#chris destroyer

[buckgasms]

I love films with a makeover scene 😍

Sebastian Stan in Destroyer (2018)

[lihiominaa]

𝅘𝅥𝅯 Happiness hit her like a bullet in the back 𝅘𝅥𝅯

Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 3 2023, dir. James Gunn

[vunblr]

Masterlist

Thanks for stopping by! Enjoy the journey through these stories as much as I enjoyed writing them.

Bucky Barnes

World of Warcraft! Bucky AU

Lumberjack! Bucky AU

Destroyer!Chris

Dividers by: @/cafekitsune

[reallyunluckyrunaway]

[i-is-v-tired]

“So how was the new Guardians of the Galaxy movie?”

Me:

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Know Your Place 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, power dynamic, age gap, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Walter Marshall, destroyer!Chris [for the purposes of this AU, I will give him the last name Jackson] (Professor AU)

Summary: after a life time of home schooling, you finally get to experience the real world in college. (petite reader)

Part of the Bad Professors AU

Note: Please leave some feedback and reblog <3 As always, I love to chat with you all. 

The noise all around has you reeling. You’re not used to so many people. So many voices and smells and sights. The frantic action of it all reminds you of a mid-00s movie about a high school. The coeds are like animals milling about in groups with the odd single body rushing between with a mission stitched between their brows. 

You sit with your thermos of tea and try to focus on your schedule. You have a campus map from the Student Support Centre next to it, trying to map out your route for each day. Momma said you should try to get ahead, figure out where you’re going. She’s always right. 

You have two classes that day. As you find the buildings on the map, planting a finger on each, you find that they are on completely different ends of the campus. Of course. Well, momma didn’t know that where they would be, did she? She said you have to balance your load; if you’re going to be an English major, make sure you take some math and science for your electives. 

You circle the two buildings and put lets beside them denoting which day you need to be there, numbering them in the order the classes occur. A burst of laughter breaks your concentration and you look around, trying to find the source. You almost miss the calm isolation of your childhood living room. 

No, you’re grown now and you begged Momma to let you go to college. Not online, but in person. You even worked all summer at the deli so you could live in a dorm. She was proud but worried. She’s never been good at letting go. She’s already called three times today and it’s not even noon. 

As the crowd blurs around you, a sudden gust blows over the table as someone sits across from you. You stare back at them with a gasp. They must’ve mistaken you for someone else. You blink as the man tugs on the front of his letterman jacket and smiles. He doesn’t seem mistaken. 

“Hey,” he leans forward on an elbow, “you waitin’ for someone? Got some cute girlfriends on their way?” 

He’s so forward, he has your brows as high as they can go and your cheeks are on fire. It’s not much of an introduction. 

“Excuse me?” You eke out. 

“Ah, I’m sorry, hon, I’m getting ahead of myself,” he smirks as he crosses both his arms on the table. “I’m Colin. You looked lonely.” 

“Oh, uh, I’m just... figuring out my schedule,” you utter dumbly. Yor brain isn’t clicking. Why is he talking to you? 

Your ears tweak and you notice a group in similar jackets, sitting just across the dining area, gabbing loudly, snickering. You wonder why he isn’t over there with them. You wiggle your pen anxiously. 

“Ah, you’re not gonna give me a name for that pretty face?” He says. 

“Huh?” Your brows drop, “what?” 

Your momma’s voice echoes in your head. ‘Be careful of those college boys. They only want one thing.’ You didn’t believe her. They don’t want that from you. You were sure once you saw the other girls in their tight leggings and short tops. 

“Your name, baby? Gotta be something sweet, huh?” 

Your face ripples as you wade through surprise, confusion, then something else. You’re almost giddy. This man, with his mussed blond hair and bright blue eyes, and his chiseled features, is asking you your name. It’s flattering. 

“Mauve,” you can’t help but smile as you answer. 

“Oh, yeah? That’s pretty, well, Mauve,” he takes out his phone, “me and my buddies are having a party tonight and we’re supposed to find a hottie to bring with us. I’m having no luck but if I show up alone, well... I might not get to stay in the frat. You get it?” 

You stare at him. You're confused. You don’t really understand frats and whatnot. They just seem like clubs people join so they can drink. 

“You wanna do me a favour? Come with me?” He asks. 

He’s bold. Bolder than any one you’ve ever met. You sputter but can’t come up with any words. 

“Please,” he pouts, “promise, I won’t try anything, I just gotta get these guys off my back.” 

He looks over his shoulder at the table of rowdy guys. You squirm in your seat, uncertain. You’ve never been to a party. Wow. 

“Here, I’ll get your number,” he taps on his phone screen, “I’ll send you the details--” 

“Leave her alone,” a grizzly voice undercuts the frat across from you. 

A thick man stands behind him. He has a cardboard cup in his hand as he glares down at the coed. His burly figure is swathed in a dark green sweater and grey slacks. He’s older and his dark curls are threaded with subtle twinkles of silver. 

“Huh? Who the hell are you?” 

“Why don’t you show her those pictures you were snapping of her? The ones you and your pals were laughing about?” The other man growls.  

You frown. What? You don’t understand what’s going on. You look from one to the other. The younger man sat across from your sighs and rolls his eyes. 

“Fuck it. Whatever. Lots of pigs to go around,” he shakes his head and stands, facing the other man. “You know, bro, just cause you’re too old to get with any ass around here, doesn’t mean you gotta ruin it for others.” 

“Get out of here,” the thicker man snarls. The other winces just slightly before puffing up his chest and stomping away. 

You remain as you are, aghast and lost. The man with the dark curls looks at you. You shrug at him. 

“I’m sorry, sir, did I do something wrong?” You ask. 

The harsh angles of his scowl ease and he lets out a long breath, “uh, no, not you. That boy, you know, any one that wears one of those jackets, they’re no good. Just some advice.” 

“Oh, right,” you look over at that guy, Colin, “sorry, I didn’t know. He just started talking to me. I was being polite.” 

“Seem like a nice girl. Just tryna look out for you.” 

“Yeah, thanks,” you chew your lip and sniff. “Are you... are you teacher?” 

“I’m a professor,” he confirms as he holds his cup close to his chest. He's one of the biggest men you’ve ever seen. And his eyes are as blue as the ocean. “Professor Marshall but unless you’re a psych student, you can call me Walter.” 

“Walter? My neighbour is Walter. At home. He’s eighty-one and he collects baseball cards,” you let yourself smile. You always felt more comfortable around older people. You never had many friends your own age. 

“Don’t mind some baseball myself,” he dips his chin. “Well, you look out for yourself and avoid the Greeks.” 

“Greeks?” You make a face. 

“Fraternities,” he says. “And sororities, if you can help it.” 

“Oh, okay. Thank you, sir,” you feel a little better. You think he’s right and he is a professor. He would know. “I’ll do that.” 

“Sir? It’s Walter,” he corrects you. 

“Oh, sorry, Walter,” you smile. “I’m Mauve.” 

He nods and shifts his cup, “Mauve,” he repeats, “well, nice to meet you.” 

“You too, sir, er, Walter. Thank you,” you say. 

He hesitates then steps back on his heel, “yeah, no problem.” 

He slowly retreats and you watch him, your heart playing like a drum. You did it. You spoke to strangers and you didn’t melt. Things are getting easier. If you could get through that, you’re sure you’ll make lots of friends in your classes. 

[beyondthefold]

SEBASTIAN STAN as CHRIS Destroyer (2018) | dir. Karyn Kusama

[darkmasterlistyouneveraskedfor]

The Backwoods AU

A Special Sort of Craving (Lloyd Hansen, The Gray Man)

The Detour (Thor, MCU)

The Stranger (Chris, Destroyer)

Forget-Me-Not (Loki, MCU)

The Farmer’s Daughter (Walter Marshall, Night Hunter)

The Rebound (Curtis Everett, Snowpiercer)

Second Best (Lee Bodecker, The Devil All the Time)

Crossed Wires (Andy Barber, Defending Jacob & Cole Turner, Ghosted)

Daddy Lesson (Rafe Cameron, OBX, Outer Banks)

All Things End (Arvin Russell, The Devil All the Time)

THTH (Ransom Drysdale, Knives Out)

Called To Duty (Captain Syverson, Sand Castle)

Unmanageable (Pete Brenner, Pain Hustlers)

A Place in the Sun (Nick Fowler, The 355)

[sweetiebarnes]

THE ERAS (SEBASTIAN‘S VERSION)

[theknightgeek]

Guardians of the Galaxy trilogy by Matt Ferguson

[navybrat817]

For valentines ficlets: eyes locking across a room with Chris? He’s so precious hehe.🥺🥺

Syd, I love this man!

Across the Room

Pairing: Destroyer!Chris x Female Reader

Summary: You didn't really want to go to the party, but you were glad you did.

Word Count: Over 730

Warnings: Love and lust at first sight, tension, slight feels, Destroyer!Chris (he's a warning, okay?)

A/N: Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @saradika-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

The party was in full swing when you arrived, music pounding through the speakers as you made your way to the basement bar. Grabbing yourself a drink, you felt the lively energy flow through you when you looked around. A few people were dancing, and others were scattered in small pairs and groups, laughter and chatter spilling over. You recognized just about everyone, and you didn’t plan to stay long, but it would’ve upset your best friend if you didn’t make an appearance.

“There you are!” Shauna yelled, nearly knocking the drink out of your hand when she went in for a hug.

“Here I am,” you smiled. You could smell the liquor on her breath, and she’d probably make you do at least one shot to catch up a little. “Sorry I’m late.”

“Hey, you showed. All that matters,” she said over the music.

You sighed inwardly. Parties like this used to be so much. Drinks flowed, excitement felt contagious, and nights felt endless. Something changed along the way. The more parties that ended with you going home by yourself made you realize how lonely you were. There was no one to wake up beside you in the morning, and no one came home to you at night. It hurt.

One thing you refused to do was settle. You wouldn’t just drive yourself into the arms of someone you knew you shouldn’t be with just to take away the loneliness for a night. You just wondered when things would turn around.

As if by some divine voice who heard your heart crying, you turned and locked eyes with a man across the room. They were the bluest eyes you had ever seen and they pulled you in. If you drowned, your dying words would’ve been to thank him. Everything made sense, and nothing made sense at all when he softly smiled.

“Who is that?” you asked, still tangled up in his stare.

“Oh, that’s Chris. He’s new to the area,” Shauna replied, giving you a gentle shove forward and making some of your drink spill over this time. “He’s totally checking you out, so go.”

He kept smiling when you glided across the room. No one seemed to touch you or block your path, almost like they knew not to interfere. And as luck would have it, there was an open spot right beside Chris. You expected half the party to be vying for his attention, but maybe they were put off by him being an outsider or his dangerous aura.

It drew you in like a moth to a flame.

“Hey,” you breathed.

“Hey,” he smirked.

His eyes were somehow brighter up close. Your fingers itched to reach up and trace his goatee. Glancing down, you spotted a few rings on fingers and wondered what they would feel like grazing or digging into your flesh. You managed to give him your name and hoped he was sticking around, but he had his jacket on like he wasn’t planning to stay long either.

“I’m Chris,” he said, clinking his bottle against yours in lieu of a handshake.

“Nice to meet you.” Taking a swig, his eyes went to your lips when you licked a drop away. “You’re new around here.”

“I am,” he confirmed, your stomach twisting in a delightful knot as his eyes swept over you. “Not a bad place, but I don’t know my way around just yet. Wouldn’t mind showing me sometime, would you?”

It thrilled you that he asked, but you didn’t want to appear too eager. “I may be able to do that.”

“May?” He raised an eyebrow. “How can I turn that into a ‘yes’?”

“Step outside with me so we can talk away from the noise and I’m sure you can find a way to convince me,” you smiled, knowing full well you’d show him all the best spots and hidden gems.

He smirked and took a swig of his own beer. “Lead the way.”

Slipping your hand in his, you winked at Shauna watching across the room. The voice in the back of your head said not to rush into his arms just because you felt an instant connection, but you had a good feeling about him. Even if you didn’t take him home tonight, there was always tomorrow.

And for the first time in a long time, you were glad you went to a party.

Love and thanks for participating! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[heatherlucky29]

If the shot of Adam reaching for Peter looked familiar, it's because it was a reference to Michelangelo's Creation of Adam painting (1512):

In addition to Adam's hand position being a fun nod to his status as a "god among men" (he takes the place of God in the original work) the reference implies that Adam's decision to save Peter's life- arguably one of the first choices he has truly made for himself- was a moment of creation... the one in which Adam used his Groot-given second chance to become the person (the hero) he always had the capacity to be💛

[vunblr]

Bucky Barnes Masterlist

The Weight of Choices (Slight angst. Smut.) Oneshot.

Summary: Torn between his instinct to protect his family and his desire to be a part of their lives, Bucky tries to deal with the reality of his ex-wife going on a date while he stays home caring for their son.

An Unfinished Goodbye (Slight Angst. Story before The Weight of Choices events, it would still be good to read that one first.) Oneshot

Summary: Bucky tells himself he’s only watching over his ex-wife and son for their safety. But when someone threatens to alter the status quo, his quiet vigilance falters.

What If?... (Fluff. Smut) Oneshot

Summary: Bucky navigates his insecurities and guilt from his past as he grows closer to his new neighbor, a nurse.

The Memory Remains (Fluff. Smut.) Oneshot

Summary: An unexpected encounter brings Bucky face-to-face with someone from his past, stirring memories he thought were long buried.

Wounds and Walls (Slight angst. Smut.) Oneshot

Summary: Bucky starts to walk into his new civilian life but struggles with his painful past, while slowly building a connection with someone who sees through his walls. As the relationship deepens, he must decide if he’s ready for something more, or if he’ll hide and push it all away.

Crumbs of Connection (Fluff.) Oneshot

Summary: When Bucky wanders into a quirky late-night bakery, he doesn’t expect the warmhearted owner to challenge his defenses.

A Heart in Hiding (Angst-Hurt/Comfort) Oneshot

Summary: Caught between the shadows of his past and an unexpected connection, Bucky wrestles with his demons and his growing feelings for a new Avenger.

To Mend a Soldier (Slight angst. Comfort. Fluff.) Oneshot

Summary: Pressed by a worried Sam, Bucky reluctantly agrees to try an alternative -and, if you ask him, weird- therapy program: rent-a-mom. What starts as an obligation soon turns into something far more meaningful than he ever expected.

Toy Soldier (Angst. Hurt/Comfort. Smut) Ended.

Summary: She had been the tool Hydra used to keep him operational; he, the weapon manipulated by their tendrils to execute their ambitions. Years after breaking free, fate Sam Wilson brings them together once more. Now, they must navigate the challenges of forging a connection beyond the twisted dynamic that once bound them in the past.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7

The Price of Silence (Blue-collar Bucky #1)

Summary: Porn with a little plot. I'll think for a propper summary later.

Discipline (Blue-collar Bucky #2)

Summary: Bucky made the rules, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t break them. And when he does, she’s more than ready to make him pay for it.

The Aftermatch (Blue-collar Bucky #2.5)

Summary: The taser's effects dissapear.

Retribution (Blue-collar Bucky #3)

Summary: Bucky crossed the line first, and she pushed back harder. Now, payback comes with fogged-up windows in a rocking van.

A Hand in the Dark (Angst. Hurt/Comfort.) Ongoing

Summary: In a brief moment of lucidity, Soldat makes a choice. And some choices echo across time, shaping the future in ways no one could predict.

Foundations (Slight Angst. Fluff) Ongoing

Summary: Bucky is doing his best to build a stable life for his newfound son, rescued from the guts of a Hydra facility. As he struggles with unexpected fatherhood and his own circumstances, he meets someone who slowly becomes part of their lives, establishing a connection he never saw coming.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

Lumberjack AU Masterlist

Dividers by: @/cafekitsune

[mischievous-thunder]

Flashback scenes? More like a cry your heart out session

[sashaisready]

Feel The Burn - Masterlist (in progress)

Lance Tucker x Reader | Destroyer!Chris x Reader

Your casual situationship with notorious flirt Lance Tucker comes to a shocking head at a party, fortunately the mysterious stranger you meet that same night is more than happy to help take your mind off it.

Warnings for: Smut, angst

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Bad Guy 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, power dynamics, cheating, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: The men your mother brings home rarely stick around, but her latest catch can't seem to unhook himself from your life.

Characters: Destroyer!Chris

Note: I'm going to a physio today for the first time.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The house is quiet as you come out of your room. The single floor is just enough room for you and your mom. You’ve never needed much else and all your life, you’ve made do with what you have. It’s just the way it is.

You stretch your arms and arch your spine as you stop in the doorway of the kitchen. You yawn. You fell asleep reading outdated discussions about your most recent syndicated obsession. You should know better by now, that thorn in your neck is only driving deeper. 

You bend at the elbows to rub your neck and drag your feet over the cold tile. Your nipple poke rigidly against your cropped tank top and goosebumps raze up your bare thighs. You open the fridge and pull out the bottle of orange juice, your panties riding up with your movement.  

Before you can stand straight, a sharp strikes snaps against your ass and radiates through your flesh. You yipe and grip the bottle by the neck as you jump and turn to face the culprit. The strange man stares back, his brows twitching. 

“Mm, you’re not Gail,” he mutters. 

“No, I’m not,” you press the juice to your chest, overly aware of your barely covered body.  

You don’t ask who he is. You stopped doing that in middle school. She’s another one of her ‘callers’. You don’t usually see them more than once, if at all. Most leave before you’re awake. 

“Was takin’ a piss, heard you skittering around, thought...” he trails off into a shrug. 

He’s shirtless too. He only wears a pair of briefs as he stands shameless before you. A dark tattoo covers half his chest and extends around his shoulder and down his arm. It’s the typical snake and skull aesthetic sported by men like him. 

“Nope,” you reach for the fridge door and step to the side as you close it.  

He doesn’t move. You go to dip around him and he moves with you. 

“Taking all that with you?” He points at the bottle. You look down and sigh. You push it towards him. “Here.” 

He puts his hand under it and you let go. You skirt around his other side and squeeze through the door behind him. You don’t look back as you flee to your room. You resist the urge to reach back and cover the bottom of your ass, not wanting to draw attention to it if he is watching. 

You shut your bedroom door and cringe. Great. You can’t really complain. Your mother hasn’t kicked you out. Yet. Not like half your friends’ parents. She just asks for half the rent and you can manage that. With the rent around here, you’d be on the street otherwise. 

You cross the room and flop on the bed. You pull out your phone and go back to scrolling the old discussion boards. It’s funny. The more recent posts are totally contrary to the ones when the show aired. You’re not sure who you agree with. 

You roll onto your back and drop your phone to the mattress. You have to work at noon. So much for a relaxing morning. You’ll just be hiding in your room until that man leaves. 

A knock jerks you up and you roll your eyes. You search the floor and pull on the wrinkly pajama bottoms. You go to the door and crack it open an inch. It’s him. 

“Uh, hi?” You utter dully. 

“Got you a glass,” he offers one of the cups in his hands. You squint at it then look him in the face. 

“Thanks?” You go to take it but he doesn’t let go as you wrap your fingers around the cold glass.  

“There a problem?” He asks. 

“Uh, no,” you scrunch your nose. “I said thanks.” 

“I don’t like your tone.” 

You let go of the glass and retract your hand. His eyes flick down and yours do too. The white tank does little for your modesty. You cross your arms. 

“Okay? Well, never mind,” you go to close the door and he steps forward, digging his elbow into the wood as he blocks you with his body. 

“Your mom said you’re a nice girl,” he looks you up and down again. “Coulda fooled me walking around like that.” 

You frown. It’s your house. Why should you worry about what you’re wearing? Besides, if you knew he was there, then you wouldn’t wander around in your panties. 

“Thanks for the orange juice but you should just give it to my mom. That’s why you’re here,” you shrug. 

He scoffs. “Got a smart mouth.” 

“No, I—I didn’t do anything.” 

“There you go again. Disrespectful.” 

“Huh?” You shake your head in confusion. 

“That way you talk. Low and flat, like you don’t give a fuck. Maybe you don’t. Would explain why you’re grown living in your mommy’s house,” he mockingly pouts. 

You blink, “you don’t know me.” 

“I know girls like you. Pretending like they don’t care. You care. We both know you do.” He moves a glass closer, “say thank you. Like you mean it.” 

“I don’t want it,” you insist. 

“Don’t want to waste it. Was it you or mommy who paid for the bottle?” He taunts. 

You grit your teeth. What is his problem? Why won’t he just leave you alone? 

You deflate. You really just want him to go. You look at the ceiling then back to him. He’s the kind of man you would avoid on the street. His blue eyes are as cold as ice and his hair is shaved, but a little longer on top, and he sports a goatee amid the short stubble on his jaw and cheeks. 

“Thank you,” you reach for the glass again. 

“Thank you, sir,” his voice grizzles as he corrects you. 

You steel yourself and your lips slant. You really just want him to tell him to fuck off but like you always do, you don’t say what you think. You keep it inside. Put on that face that keeps you safe. 

“Thank you, sir,” you repeat after him. 

“Now smile,” he demands. 

You flinch and look away. You take a breath. That’s you’re least favourite, when they tell you to smile. It happens often at your job and it always sours your day. 

You force a smile. 

“Come on, you can do better,” he snickers. 

Your cheeks tremble and your smile falls. You tuck your chin down. 

“Can you please just leave me alone?” You mumble. 

“Excuse me, girl? I can’t hear you.” 

“I said...” your throat locks up and your eyes singe. God! When you get angry, you don’t get bold, you just get teary. You hate it. “I said ‘thank you, sir’.” 

You grab the glass so abruptly that it sloshes over the side. You don’t stop, you just spin and throw your weight against the door. He lets it close and it slams. You spill most of the juice down your front. 

You hear the friction of his fingers dragging down the wood. It sends a chill through you. You slowly pull away and put the glass down, juice dripping down your arms and chest. 

He’ll be gone soon, just like the rest. 

💀

Your mom’s still asleep when you leave for work. As you sneak out of your room, you listen for any sign of life.  If the man’s there, he doesn’t make himself known. You step into your shoes and leave through the front door without looking back. 

You head down the street with your earbuds in, a podcast about an old show you watched in high school droning on, as you take the shortcut behind the house at the end of the street. It’s almost four blocks to work but you save money on bus fare. You try to only waste the change after dark. 

The ice cream shop is never very busy outside of the post-soccer game crowds. You take your vigil behind the cold counter and bob along with the radio station’s Top 10 countdown. Miley leans in the corner by the till as she chews gum and scrolls through her phone. 

You’re fidgety to do the same, but you hate just letting your eyes glaze over. You pace a bit back and forth until her shift is up. When she’s gone, you feel a little less on edge. You always prefer being alone, you don’t have to worry about performing. 

Customers come and go. You greet them with the usual ‘how can I help?’ You’ve never been very good at the customer service part but you’re not rude. You just do your job, which it to scoop ice cream and toss some sprinkles around. 

You’re entitled to one cone a shift. You rarely have it. You don’t need the extra sugar or the brain freeze. That day, as you close up, the chocolate peanut butter entices you to go outside your routine. You put the lids on all the canisters except for that flavour and do yourself up a waffle cone before you lock up. 

You lick the softening cream and turn to face the dark plaza, lit only by the overhead marquee. There’s a car idling just by the curb. You ignore it. A few neighbouring businesses close up around the same time. 

The engine revs, and it jolts forward. The horn nearly has you throwing your cone. You fall back into step and keep walking. The Trans Am continues to follow you and honks again. The window rolls down as someone whistles. Only your name stops you. 

You turn and bend to see through the window. What the heck? It’s him. The man that invaded your house and threatened you over orange juice. 

You exhale through your nose and stand up. You turn down the pavement and keep going. The bus will be there any moment. 

“Hey,” he barks, “get back here.” 

You keep going. Why is he there? Because of the orange juice? 

The car door opens and closes. You speed up as you hear him following you. 

“Your mom sent me to pick you up,” he says. 

You snort, “sure she did.” 

“Really,” he says as his footsteps echo yours. 

“She doesn’t even know when I work,” you keep going and he catches your arm, yanking you back. 

You spin to face him and yelp. Your scoop shifts precariously in the cone. You try to pull away but not too hard as you selfishly want to keep your treat intact. 

“Alright. I offered. I heard you leave. Figured you could use a lift.” He squeezes and you whimper. “I can be a nice guy.” 

Can be. 

You wince and flutter your lashes, “can you let me go... please?” 

He opens his fingers sharply and lifts his hand, showing his palm. “Since you said please...” 

You look over your shoulder then back at him. Finally, you glance at your cone. You weigh your options. You’re not a quick runner. 

“I appreciate the ride but--” 

“I appreciate the ride, sir. Like I said, I can be nice, but respect is earned, girl.” 

You swallow tightly, cheeks pinching. 

“Sir, I appreciate the ride but I have money for the bus--” 

He clucks and points over your shoulder, “that bus?” 

You turn and watch the headlights blow by the stop. You flick your eyes to the sky and face him again. “Mmhmm.”” 

“So, is that a ‘thank you, sir’ on your lips?” He challenges. 

You slant your lips back and forth. You fight back a wave of hot frustration. You’re used to feeling powerless but he is suffocating. You nod. 

“Thank you, sir,” you choke out. 

“See, not that hard to be a good girl.” 

He waits until you move. You head back towards his car, and he gets in the driver side. As you claim the passenger seat, he huffs. He looks at you as you try not to acknowledge him. 

“Don’t like food in the car. Try not to get it all over,” he snarls. 

“I can--” 

“Just be careful,” he snips. 

Just be quiet, you tell yourself. You pull the seatbelt down and stare through the windshield. You lick around the cone as the cream threatens to melt onto your fingers. The car idles and you glance over. He watches your tongue as you lap up the trickle.  

You sit back as his eyes cling to your lips. He lifts his chin and turns straight. He grips the wheel and cranks the volume on the stereo. He speeds off and you struggle to keep from doing just what he warned you not to. You’d tell him to slow down but not only will he not listen, but the sooner you’re home, the better.