#wasn’t the garbage truck guy

[spikeyjo]

Almost got plowed down by a garbage truck 😂

[navybrat817]

The Day After

Pairing: Roommate's Brother!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Your new roommate introduces you to her brother, but you met him last night.

Word Count: Over 2.3k

Warnings: Implied explicit sexual content, mention of hooking up, tension, humor, flirting, slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes being a menace (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: Calling this AU About Last Night. No one asked for it. Hope you enjoy it anyway! @targaryenvampireslayer @tavners @starlightcrystalline he's such a menace! ❤️ Thanks to the lovely @whisperlullaby for prereading and assuring me it isn't garbage. Any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You groaned as you saw the time and wiped down the coffee table again. Rebecca Barnes, your new roommate, would be there any minute. You weren’t sure why you were so nervous. She seemed like a sweetheart and was down to earth, the perfect person to take the other bedroom and help with rent. Plus, she had already seen the place and seemed excited to be roommates.

She was doing you a favor by moving in. Your last roommate got engaged and moved in with her fiancé. While you were thrilled for her, keeping a place in this part of town was costly. You had debated downsizing, but there was nothing available. Giving up the place would’ve been tough as well since you did love your apartment and it was close to work.

“It’ll be great,” you said, taking a wipe to the table once more.

Maybe you were on a cleaning spree so your mind wouldn’t keep going back to the guy from last night. The one at the bar with the piercing blue eyes and charming smile. And the beefy frame and soft chestnut hair that framed his face. The same hair you pulled when he laid you down on his bed and kissed down your body and-

You jumped at the knock on your door. Now wasn’t the time to think about the guy who blew your back out. “Just a sec!” You called out, putting the cleaning supplies away before you straightened up your top. With a deep breath, you opened the door with a smile. “Becca, hi!”

Rebecca’s smile was enough to light up the whole place, her brown hair swept back to showcase her beautiful face. You imagined guys, and maybe girls, flocked to her, but she told you she was single and happy that way. You were single, too, minus whatever last night was. “Hi,” she said, balancing a box in her hand before you held your hands out to take it. “How are you?”

“Good. How are you?”

“Good, but I’ll be better once I get everything inside. I didn’t realize I had so many boxes,” she teased.

“I’m happy to help with whatever you need,” you promised, setting the box down by her bedroom door. “Is your car outside?”

“Actually, one of my brother’s friends let us use his truck to haul most of my stuff here,” she said, a worried look crossing her face as she looked your way. “It’s okay that they help move the stuff in, right? I’m so sorry. I don’t think I asked. The furniture is just a bit heavy.”

“It’s fine. You have nothing to apologize for. This is your place now, too,” you assured her. You remembered her saying she had an older brother. Was his name James? “And you shouldn’t have to lug up an entire bedroom by yourself.”

She breathed a sigh of relief. “Thanks. My last roommate would’ve flipped,” she smiled, heading back to the door to stick her head out. “This way, guys!”

The first man that walked in was thick with broad shoulders and a smile as golden as his hair. If you had to imagine an all-American man in the flesh, this guy was it. But the guy that followed inside after him, he was the one who made your heart stop. The one who made your knees buckle. Because you knew those blue eyes.

And as his eyes bore into yours, he smirked.

Fuck…

“This is Steve, one of my brother’s best friends and pretty much like another brother,” Rebecca said, pointing to the blonde as you blinked. “And that’s my brother, James. Everyone calls him Bucky.”

You were very much aware that people called him Bucky. It was the name he made you cry out when he was balls deep inside you the night before. There was still an ache between your legs that reminded you just how thoroughly he fucked you. It was a miracle you were able to walk by the time he was done with you.

Not only did you manage to walk out of his room, you left his place before he woke up.

To be fair, it wasn’t your plan to ditch him after he took you in just about every position you could imagine. You just had to get home, shower, and clean up a bit before Rebecca showed up. And you did leave your number for him.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Steve said as Bucky continued to stare.

The room suddenly felt very hot.

“James, could you not gawk at my new roommate like that, please?” his sister asked, waving a hand dismissively when he continued to stare at you. Thank god she spoke because your words were stuck in your throat. “I’m sorry. He does this weird staring thing sometimes, but he doesn’t mean anything by it.”

“It’s okay,” you said, clearing your throat as Bucky raised an eyebrow. Why wasn’t he saying anything? You didn’t know what to say. “It’s nice to meet you guys, too.”

Bucky’s pretty eyes darkened a shade as he continued to stare you down. You shifted slightly on your feet. Was he upset that you left or that you just pretended not to know him, like last night hadn’t happened? But if you said you knew him, how would you explain it to his sister? You could’ve just said you met at a bar and left it at that. Or blurted out everything.

But how the hell were you to know Bucky was her brother? It wasn’t like the two of you had exchanged last names. Oh, Jesus, what was wrong with you?

The corner of Bucky’s lip tugged in a smile as he said your name. How did he manage to make it sound like honey and something sinful? “Becca was telling us all about you on the drive over. Said you’re very welcoming.”

Blood rushed to your cheeks as he gauged your reaction. “That was nice of her to say,” you said, tearing your gaze away because you didn’t know what else to do. “Becca, I can go to the truck and-”

“Actually, could you show me where the bathroom is?” Bucky casually cut you off, jerking his head toward the door. “Steve, Becca, if you wanna grab a couple more boxes, I’ll be right down.”

“Sure,” Steve nodded as Rebecca narrowed her eyes.

“Don’t bother my roommate,” she warned before she left with Steve.

The brunette swung his head back toward you, a wolfish grin on his face as you gulped. “I won’t be a bother, will I?”

“Bathroom’s this way!” You said much louder than you needed to, your heart racing as you went down the hall. He was right on your tail and you wondered if he would figure out which bedroom was yours and drag you into it. The hall seemed more narrow with him in it. The wonderful smell of him took up the space, too. “Right there,” you said, not looking him in the eye as you pointed to the bathroom door.

He put an arm up to block your exit. “Nice to meet me, huh?” He asked, tsking as he shook his head. “Did I fuck you so good that you lost your memory?”

You inhaled, your cheeks hot. “Bucky!” You hissed, looking over his shoulder to make sure his sister and friend weren’t back yet.

“So, you do remember my name,” he said. The smirk that followed almost had you dropping to your knees. What sorcery did this man have over you and how could you get it to stop? “I mean, you should remember it. I did have you screaming it.”

You stuck a finger in his face as you stepped closer. “Shut the fuck up! If your sister hears, she might get upset and back out of the lease. And I don’t want her to leave. She’s nice and I can’t afford this place without a roommate.”

He gripped your wrist and maintained eye contact as he swirled his tongue around the tip of your finger. An unashamed whimper slipped past your lips that you couldn’t smother, yet you didn’t make a move to stop him. “My sister won't back out of the lease, so don’t worry about that.”

“O-Okay,” you said, trying not to let him distract you as he repeated the motion. Your nipples hardened under your top anyway. Damn him. “But if she stays, how am I supposed to explain that we…”

“Fucked until the sun came up then fucked again? Yeah, you're right. It might be really hard.” He tilted his head as his gaze went lower. Was he trying to kill you? “About as hard as when I had my cock in your sweet, wet-”

You covered his mouth to smother the rest of the statement, but you felt the vibration from the word “pussy” against your skin. He chuckled at your expression. The man was going to drive you crazy.

“Yes, yes. We fucked. Best fuck of my life, okay?” You admitted in a huff.

A genuine smile touched his lips as he lowered your hand. Not a smirk or smug smile, but something lighter like when the two of you chatted over a drink. A smile that made your knees weak. “I was the best fuck of your life?”

You shook your head. You shouldn’t have said that. “That isn’t the point, but I do want to point out that I don’t make it a habit of hooking up with random guys,” you said, hoping that would be the end of it.

Amusement filled his eyes. “I know. You told me that when I brought you home and I believed you,” he reminded you, your breath hitching when he leaned in close. “But you still begged me to fuck you raw. Or did you ‘forget’ that, too?”

Electricity crackled between the two of you slowly exhaled. “I didn’t forget,” you breathed, your tongue darting out to touch your lip. It almost touched his.

How could you ever forget how right it felt when he filled you up?

“Yeah? Then were you embarrassed that you went home with me?” He asked, his voice quieter than before as he took your hand in his. His thumb moved over your skin as your pulse quickened again. “Is that why you left this morning? Or acted like we hadn’t met?”

Your gaze softened. God, did you hurt his feelings? You hadn’t meant to. “No, I’m not embarrassed that I went home with you. Not at all,” you promised. Bucky was like a god and you were a mere mortal that he somehow chose to bless with his presence. “I’m sorry I left. I only did that because I had to get back here.”

“I could’ve given you a ride. Well, another ride,” he said, brushing his fingers along your cheek, his voice still not back to normal yet. “I’m a gentleman like that.”

“I didn’t want to wake you, but I did leave my number,” you said, hoping that would at least soothe the unintended wound. “And I’m not at all pointing fingers, but you didn’t exactly jump to tell your sister we had met either when you walked in.”

He shrugged and looked over his shoulder. “She’ll be back any minute. Let’s tell her.”

“Tell her what?” You asked. The two of you hooked up. There was no label or relationship yet. “We did a lot of things that I don't think she needs to hear about.”

The smile morphed back to the smirk that was getting under your skin in the best way. “Then come to my place so she can't hear the things we’ll do to each other. You know I have a great bed.”

You smiled and considered it for a moment. The handsome menace was single and so were you. Would it be so bad to go with him again? Yes. You couldn’t ditch your new roommate to hop into her brother’s bed, especially on the day she was moving in.

With a shake of your head, you backed away. “You’re unbelievable,” you replied, almost giving in when he pouted. That look probably got him whatever he wanted with most people. “And I’m not going back to your place today.”

“Why not? Like you said, you left me your number,” he said, making a show of holding up his phone. “You obviously wanted to, at the very least, talk to me again.”

“Look, Bucky, can we talk about this later? Please? Your sister’s moving in today. Let’s focus on that.”

His shoulders slumped, but he recovered in the blink of an eye. “Okay, you’re right. But you promise we’ll talk? Because I haven’t stopped thinking about last night.”

You bit your lip. Yeah, you wanted to talk to him again and it warmed your heart that he seemed interested in talking to you, too. “I haven’t stopped thinking about it either,” you told him. But you couldn’t dwell on that when you heard footsteps approaching. “I promise we’ll talk later and figure out whatever this is.”

That appeased him for now since he dropped his arm. “Later then.”

“James! Are you done going to the bathroom? I thought you were going to help?” Rebecca’s voice rang out. “Oh, God, you’re bothering her, aren’t you?”

You giggled as you ducked past him. “He isn’t bothering me.”

“But I am offering to order dinner for all of us if she doesn’t mind the company after we bring the rest of the stuff up. Maybe we can all watch a movie, too,” Bucky said from behind you, smiling when you looked over your shoulder with an exasperated gaze. “What do you say?”

You had to smile back because you knew you’d say “yes” before Steve brought the next box in.

And things were about to get a lot more interesting in your life since Bucky Barnes seemed determined to continue whatever had transpired the night before.

Neighbor!Bucky level of being a menace. 😂 I also like to imagine this is a version of Stud and Smartie in another world had she lived with his sister instead. ❤️‍🔥 How long before Becca finds out? What shenanigans will these two get up to? Do you lovelies want to see the night before? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[toovaeloe]

bus stop 𝝑𝝔 “If I was your boyfriend, you sure as hell wouldn’t be waiting at a bus stop.”

suguru geto x genderneutral reader

no curse au

You’ve used the “I have a boyfriend” excuse and you may have just manifested one. Or a gorgeous man, at the very least

☁️🚏☁️

This was the worst, you think. Had to be punishment for something you did in a past life.

For starters, you were late for work. Was it your fault for staying up so late, giggling and doom-scrolling through mounds of mind numbing media? Yeah, maybe…

Let’s blame it on the weather. Your alarm didn’t wake you up after you silenced it. The neighbor’s dog wouldn’t stop barking through the night. But it’s not like you could tell your boss any off that.

So that’s why you raced out the door, haphazardly juggling your belongings in your arms. Wallet. Keys. Phone. Something else you couldn’t quite remember at the moment. Did you have everything? Probably; no time to check now. Only to find when you stomped on the brake and turned the key in the ignition…your car wouldn’t start.

Sputter…sputter…and then nothing.

Great.

There’s your late-to-work-excuse.

Maybe you shouldn’t have ignored the “maintenance needed” symbols that have been lighting up your dash like they want their own holiday. To be fair, time and money just weren’t things that came in abundance.

In any case, as you were sitting in that local garage enduring the mechanic babbling on about vehicle expertise junk you just couldn’t begin to understand, zoning out and nodding every few minutes with a halfhearted “hmm,” so it at least looked like you were absorbing information…you made note to at least revisit the idea of changing your smoke alarm’s batteries before it decided to turn on you, too.

But that was last week.

7-9 business days.

That’s how long until your car would be up and running again. Apparently, according to the mechanic, you were lucky it was even that. Apparently. Which meant you needed some other means of transportation to and from work and such.

Lucky you had the local bus service, right?

WRONG.

They were always late, but you still felt the need to get to the stops on time, lest you have a repeat of 5 days ago. (You showed up only 2 minutes late and were left behind at the store. Had to wait for an hour for your friend to get off her shift and come pick you up.) You highly doubted it, but what with the way the world was shitting on you right now, it wasn’t out of the question. And the city’s money obviously wasn’t going towards public transportation— they could qualify as garbage trucks if they really needed them with how trashed they were. Mystery sticky patches on the seat, gum underneath. The inconsolable children whining their heads off. That was kind of cute at first, but now it made you want to throw yourself out the window. The whole thing was just the experience that you could expect from a free public transportation system.

And why was it so rainy this month??? Ugh.

But what could you do but make do with what you had? Complaining definitely wasn’t making your shoes any less waterlogged. Be grateful, or some shit like that.

That evening, however, as you were waiting twenty minutes past the time the bus was supposed to arrive at the stop after an exhausting work day…you were just so fed up with everything. With the puddle water soaking through your shoes, with the way you had to stand because the benches were damp…with this rando-guy who had walked up next to you that you were half sure kept looking at you. To say the least, it only served to annoy you in your already sour mood.

You were willing to just ignore it. Until he stepped closer.

“Hey I’m uh…I’m pretty sure I’ve seen you around.”

Oooohh boy.

“Yeah, yeah, it is you. I’ been taking the bus sometimes. Usually I’m riding my motorcycle but uh, not today.”

Did you ask?

“Thought I’d drop by.”

The public bus stop. (???)

“What’s yer name, toots?”

Yeah no. Go back to the 1950’s and maybe that’d work there. You’d rather lick the mystery sticky shit off the bus seat. You could pick up a date 10x better without opposable thumbs.

All of the above is what you would’ve liked to say. Alas, you were tired. You didn’t want trouble that would take more energy than it was worth. So before he could go any further, you just coined the foolproof line.

“I have a boyfriend.”

Lie. You didn’t, but it was the first thing that came to mind. And if that didn’t make him lose interest, then he must really be a pathetic asswipe.

Sadly, he was. In terms of getting the hint to shut up, the guy looked barely deterred; offended even, as he prattled on.

“Well why were you acting so into me then, huh?” You definitely didn’t. You don’t even know this dude.

“I wasn’t even going for you.” He definitely was.

“You’re—“ X, Y, and Z. Just because his game is trifling?? You felt a headache coming on. And maybe a bout of anxiety. People are crazy, and the last thing you wanted was for this needless situation to escalate into something dangerous.

The entire mess was occurring just as Suguru was making the commute to work on the same street. But he found himself slowing nearly to a stop when he caught sight of you.

How could a person look so exhausted; hair extra frizzy, floccose from the humid rain, clothes soaked, droplets of the downpour dribbling onto your cheeks and blinked away from your lashes…and still so breathtaking? Or perhaps that was part of your beauty in this moment. You looked every bit done with the day, but who knew when- if— he’d ever see you again? He’d be stupid, a fool to not at least try to strike up a conversation with you. He’d be…

…Probably like that idiot.

A sulky moue twisted at his expression as he witnessed the disgraceful way this loser was fumbling. Oh dear. His approach lacked so much grace, so much respect…it was really just distasteful. You didn’t deserve that. And frankly, he didn’t think he deserved to watch you be treated like that when he knew he could do so much better.

“Sorry to keep you waiting!”

A merry sounding tone directed your way had your head sharply whipping to the source. A tall dark haired man you’ve never seen before; layered in a gray colored quarter zip and dark slacks, you think. His approach was casual and relaxed, a subtly jovial yet inherently guileful grin tugging at his lips. He even waved to you like an old friend. His entire facade was so convincing you considered for a moment if you had known him from somewhere and simply forgotten.

No, you really wouldn’t have forgotten a face like that. Eyes like those. A presence so contrasting of itself and yet so cohesive in its own way, if you had to try and describe it. Just a damn beautiful man. With eyebrows that were beginning to crease on his forehead.

Ooh, you were staring.

More than that, he was giving you a pointed look that you didn’t notice while drooling over the poor guy. Unfortunately for you, slo-mo’s only happened in movies, and in reality you just looked like an ogling dork. But you didn’t have time to dwell on your embarrassment when he was quite obviously urging you to play along with this illusion he was creating.

And so you did.

“Oh- hi! No worries,” You insisted in an awkward attempt to adapt to this new charade.

“‘Hasn’t been that long,” though your reaction to his presence wasn’t as well-articulated, it was convincing enough.

The other dude looked to be at least somewhat suspicious, and might’ve spoken on it if wasn’t for Geto’s scrutinizing gaze and a simple raise of his brow.

“Can I help you?” And just for good measure, he’d wrap his arm around you, sliding his hand into your coat pocket as if he’s done it a million times before to pull you closer against him. Whatever glare this ravenette man was glowering down the length of his nose at this guy with must’ve been scarring, because he murmured some half-assed excuse before scampering away.

You idly wondered how’d he get wherever he was going without the bus.

Or maybe you’d have more time to think about it if your brain wasn’t short-circuiting, acutely aware of the unworldly attractive man’s hand resting just over your hip.

“Sorry,” Geto spoke after a few beats, languidly retracting his arm from your coat and back to his side. “You looked like you were about to burst a blood vessel entertaining him. I hope I didn’t overstep. Y’know, with your boyfriend and all.” He had to have overheard you earlier.

But the way he spoke made it sound as if he doubted that fact, glancing to either side of you as if to say That is nowhere in sight..? without being so overtly rude. Or maybe he just wasn’t all that apologetic.

“That-! Yeah,” You pepped with a nervous pitter of laughter, “yeah…it’s not a problem, thanks.”

Your hand gravitated to the zipper of your jacket, absentmindedly fiddling with it as you frantically thought up an at least half decent explanation. One that wouldn’t make you sound more clumsy than you already felt.

“He’s not real, so he won’t mind.”

Yeah, real smooth. What was that you said; about being able to pick up a date without opposable thumbs? You’d need at least ten pairs of hands.

But Suguru didn’t seem to mind. In fact, his grin widened into something toothy and almost boyish, his eyes crinkling at the corners in a way that added an innocent charm to his otherwise elegant features. He found it endearing.

“Perfect,” His response was coupled with a discreet chuckle.

“Don’t feel obligated,” He’d continue as he reached to the side of you. So close to brushing your shoulder, it made your breath hitch. Though truly he was reaching around you, sharply tearing a flier from the side of the bus stop and pulling a pen from one of his pockets. If you were paying more attention you’d have noticed the glint of impish amusement in his umber eyes that led one to believe that action was more deliberate than he let on.

Still, he’d make quick work of jotting down a phone number and the address of a nice restaurant he’s been meaning to try with Satoru— but plans change. “but I’d like to take you out. I was on my way over to ask you, anyhow.”

He offered the page to you; his handwriting as sumptuous and calligraphic as you would’ve expected his penmanship to be; in the margins of some tacky ad for a lawn mowing service. As you went to accept the paper, however, he rescinded it from reach. All whilst drawing closer so that his piercing dark amber eyes held your gaze with an unwavering intensity. The kind that made your stomach do flips and stole your breath away.

“And for the record,” He spoke quietly but poised; a conspiratorial whisper for only you, him, and the rain to witness. “if I was your boyfriend, you sure as hell wouldn’t be waiting at a bus stop.”

There wasn’t time to react; he was already slipping the page into your pocket, withdrawing to a comfortable proximity all the while waving you off and wishing you well with a kind smile, disappearing someplace else.

You didn’t even catch his name.

At least your bus was here.

a/n: I had something to say but I totally forgot 😭

OH but I did add an upcoming section to my masterlist so you can see my works in the works if you’d like! 🤍 always open to ideas too

Dear god I crave geto with that loose low bun that’s barely a bun kind of hairstyle. Ykwim???

ty for reading 🤍🤍🤍 love you have a lovely lovely day or night

edit: OMG THATS WHAT I WAS GONNA SAY. I kept accidentally writing bust stop instead of bus stop as I wrote this. So, sorry if you bust

☁️☁️☁️

[the-soliloquies-of-sadists]

#391

“What? You think you are done faggot?  Get back into place.  I said, ‘Faggot, get back into place.’  No, no, no, you ain’t Kevin no more, not after I saw four men take turns spit roasting you.  You are Faggot from this point on.  Now it’s my turn to bust my nut….

“This changes everything between us.  About time it does.  I’m tired of hearing about Jesus.  When my right-wing cousin asked me to take the 20-year-old son of a friend of hers along with me to see if he would like truck driving, I was reluctant.  She told me you were a quiet boy who needed to come out of a shell.  I filled out all the paperwork with the company so you could ride with me. 

“Bend over the picnic table with your cunt pointing at that garbage can.

“When we met, I knew you were a faggot right away.  You followed me into the men’s room.  I started to get a boner right there.  I saw you glancing at my dick at the urinals.  I knew it was going to be a great two weeks together.  But not ten minutes in my cab, I was hearing how much you love Jesus, and I knew this was not going to be good.  And we hadn’t even started rolling.

“Now pull apart your cunt lips and push some jiz out. 

“So before we left, I called my cousin.  She told me that you are the son of her Baptist preacher and it would be a great favor to her to take you out and show you real America.  Now my cousin doesn’t know that I’m a total fag fucker.  So instead, I called two of my fellow drivers, Barry and Jimmy.  You just met them; Barry was the first and Jimmy was the third guy to spit roast you.  We drive for the same company on the same route on the same day.  As you are Barry’s type, he wanted you ASAP.  That’s why we are here at this rest area.  That and this spot has this picnic table out back away from the eyes of the casual traveler.

“Push some more out.  I want a good glob on my cock head.  Damn, this cunt has been used before.  And I’m not even talking about just today.  It’s obvious that you also have experience in servicing and serving men.  Your second fucker was this trucker that followed you and Barry back here.  And he was slapping your face when Barry was plowing your cunt.  And it wasn’t a love tap; it was a man properly using and abusing a faggot.  He even used a fistful of you your hair as a handle.  You seemed to take that roughness like it was nothing.

“So, I can reach over and pull you off the picnic table and push you on your knees….  Like that.  Faggot, this is natural for you, isn’t it?...  Where did you learn that you need to be treated like shit?... 

“…You met older men from those kink sites?...  …So I have a faggot to use as my personal cunt for the next few weeks?

“That face slap is for not addressing me with respect.  That’s ‘Yes Master.’  You refer to all men as ‘Sir.’  You got that faggot?...  I’m really going to like smacking you around. 

“See that glob of driver cum on my dick head?  Using only the tip of your tongue, scoop it in your mouth, but don’t swallow it.

“Now say, ‘I am a faggot whore whose only existence is to be abused by real men.  I live for cock and cum….’  …Say it again…. …Again…

“You got me leaking.  Turn your head to face the garbage can.  I want to wipe my pre-cum on your cheek.  Swallow that spunk and keep saying it.

“That’s good.  Mmmm.  Now say that you want to be abused without mercy….  And say that you don’t want to have a safe word….  So you do not want to have any say of what I plan on doing to you, and that your pleas to stop must be ignored….  Don’t look back at me; say it to the garbage can, cause that’s what you are, garbage.

“…Good that’s done.  Now suck on my dick.

“Listen up faggot.  I was talking with that second driver—the one that roughed you up while Barry was plowing your cunt.  He left back here and made a bee line to his cab.  When he came out, he looked pissed.  He had a belt already doubled up, and he was heading back here to beat the shit out of you. 

“I stopped him.  He was pissed at you.  He recognized you.  He showed me his phone.  It had a news article with a pic of you standing next to your father as your preacher father was going into the state’s senate to fights against gays.  Now I tend to stay out of politics, but even I know of your dad’s name. 

“I told him that you were being fucked by Jimmy and that random fourth guy that came out of nowhere.  He wondered how I knew the details of what was going on as this area isn’t seen from the parking lot….

“I told him to look at my phone.  Faggot, pull off my cock and look up.  Damn, you are one hungry cunt.  You don’t care about anything I have to say.  That would explain why you don’t seem interested in how I knew about everything and every guy you were doing back here.

“If you look at my phone you will see a faggot kneeling in front of a man, both next to a picnic table.  That faggot is you….  Yes, I have been watching you through my phone.  The camera is located inside the opening to the garbage can there.

“Now it’s hitting you.  Yeah, I told Barry to come up here and set it up.  He has a lot of cameras in his truck.  He streams his fuck sessions in his cab and makes a shit load of money on-line.  By default, he has a copy of the video and so do I.  So going after my phone won’t do you no good.  So get back on your knees.

“It’s interesting, I did this to blackmail you into being my total bitch the seventeen days you are with me and to get you to stop with the religious shit.  Barry was definitely game, as likes young fags like you.  Jimmy just likes to fuck.  This here was going to be a simple picnic table fuck.

“That all changed when Chuck—that would be the second driver—showed me his phone….

“…Don’t fucking say another word.  I will smack you again.  You are in a shitty spot here.  First, you are naked as a rest stop, loaded up by four men, soon to be five with mine.  Don’t bother looking for your clothes.  Barry picked up your shit and put it in his cab; you were oblivious being spit roasted. 

“When you leave this area, you will walk back to a row of semis buck naked.  After my fat hog fucks you, your gape will be more pronounced, so you will have jiz running down your legs like some goddamned whore.  Next, you were filmed doing and saying nasty things, things your Papa wouldn’t approve.  So doing something stupid like running away is not going to go well for you, as that video can be edited to hide us but showcase your talents.  Videos are easy to disseminate.  You are kinda stuck in this situation, subject to whatever sexual whims that should come to mind.

“You are going to be filmed doing nasty shit going forward, but doing one video will have the same as ten.  You understand your predicament?...  Good.  Good.

“Now get up and lean over the picnic table.  I need to drop my seed.

“…Fuck, you are sloppy back here.  The guys stretched you out enough, so you aren’t strangling my dick.  And cum lube is the best….  Oh yeah, clamp down like that.  We need to be very quick.  There’s a timetable that needs to be met.  We all are meeting up at a particular spot up ahead for our 10-hour DOT rest. 

“The things that are planned for you...,  I’m getting close just thinking about it.  You are going to be used by so many men these next two weeks.

“Damn your hair was made to be used as a handle.  Arch your back.  Try almost to stand. 

“Fuck that feels good.  You ready for my load?  Of course you are.  You are cum dump faggot who lives to take load after load.  You don’t give a shit who is fucking you, just as long as they breed you.  You fucking slut.  You whore.

“I’m gonna cum.  I’m going to flood your guts with more cum.  When I am done, you are to clean me off like a good faggot.

“Get ready.  Here it cums!  Here it cums!  Here it fucking cums!  Ahhhh Ahhhhh Ahh!... Fuck!  Goddamn, your cunt is just what I needed.

“…Atta boy.  Tastes nasty hunh?  That’s the flavor of four men’s loads.  Yeah you are a fucking pig.  I knew it. 

“…Let’s head on out.  Hold on.  Let me get that camera from the garbage can.  …OK, let’s go.

“No. No.  You are walking in front of me.  I want whoever is in the parking lot to see a naked cum whore faggot.  Walk slowly.  Better yet.  I got a fistful of your hair.  I’ll control the pacing.

“Damn.  Everyone’s gone except for me and Chuck.  Barry split and he has your clothes… and probably your phone too.  Don’t worry, you’ll get it back tonight.

“Let’s go over to Chuck’s cab. 

“Hey Chuck!...  I got the faggot here for ya!  Naked and loaded up!  Are they going to be there?...  Fucking awesome!

“OK faggot get on up.  You are riding with Chuck for the rest of today….  Awww shut the fuck up.  I don’t care what you have to say.  Chuck has arranged to have a gay biker gang join us tonight.  His condition for arranging this was he gets you tied up in his cab for the day.  Seems like a fair exchange….

“…I said for you to shut up.  Keep insisting you have something important to say, and I’ll do a lot more than slam your faggot face against his cab. 

“Listen here shithead.  I don’t give a shit about you, or what happens to you.  I don’t give a fuck about my right-wing nutjob cousin.  And I don’t have any sympathy for your father and his evil fucked up ministry.

“I control what happens to you.  And you are going in the cab of a fellow fag fucking driver, a man I just met, a man that has bondage equipment installed inside, a man that knows a biker gang.  And I’m fine with all of it.

“Chuck, get down here.  The faggot needs convincing getting up into your cab.  Bring your belt.  I can stick around to help you turn this sissy girl black and blue….

“Change your mind?  Good.  Get up there.

“He’s all yours Chuck.

“I hope to catch you later faggot…  “…Oh faggot!  I forgot to say, ‘Praise Jesus!’”

This story continues in Story #396.

[nakedwilbur]

The two of them had been in a constant prank ware for the last couple of months, and when he saw his flat mate out on the balcony enjoying his morning coffee “au naturelle” the temptation was too big to ignore. Silently he closed and locked the door before rushing off to work, leaving the poor guy trapped outside stark naked. It wasn’t until around lunch he got an angry message from his friend cursing him for the prank and swearing revenge. Without his phone he had no way to ask for help until a neighbor had finally spotted him and sent the janitor to let him back in.

There was a bitt of a tension between them the first couple of days and he braced himself for what to come. But after a couple of weeks nothing had happened, and he started to put his guard down and thought that maybe his friend had let it all go. That was until one late night at the gym. He was all alone and knew something was up when he stepped out of the shower and his towel were gone. But the real shock came when he got to his empty locker. The only thing left was his phone, and on it he saw a message from his flat mate. It contained one image of his empty wardrobe and one of several garbage bags with his clothes outside their apartment building. “Revenge time,” the message began. “If you want to see your clothes again you better hurry up. The garbage truck should be here in about thirty minutes. I have my contacts and if I hear or see you using as much as a handkerchief to cover up, you can wave your clothes goodbye. Oh, and I have taken your car back to the apartment. Best of luck and hurry up!” And so the prank war went on.

[tikosblogg]

Come Undone

Summary: Best Friend Noah🥰

Warning: Fist fight, cussing, unprotected piv (plz don’t do that), mention of drug use.

A/N: Yall I have had writers block so bad…I’m so sorry if this is garbage. I really tired 😭💜

I stood by the bonfire, my heart pounding in time with the crackling flames. The glow illuminated the faces of my friends—Noah, Nicholas, Folio, and Jolly—each one lost in the bliss of the moment. I couldn’t help but steal glances at Noah.

He was tall, lean, adorned with tattoos that coiled like vines up his neck and across his arms. In the dim light, he seemed to radiate strength. Noah. My best friend, my secret crush, oblivious to the feelings that swirled within me. I ignored them, pushed them down for so long…but it’s useless.

Folio and Jolly were perched on the tailgate of Folio's truck, while Noah and Nicholas loomed nearby, their laughter blending with the music drifting from speakers hidden in the crowd. With every chuckle, my heart fluttered. I wanted to tell Noah how I felt, to lay bare the secrets of my heart. Yet, every time I opened my mouth to speak, the words shriveled into silence. What if I ruined our friendship? What if he didn’t feel the same?

As I shook off my doubts, that’s when she arrived. Jordan. The name sent icy tendrils down my spine, conjuring memories of high school torment. There she was—strutting towards us like she owned the night, her shimmering hair catching the glow of the fire. She was the embodiment of the girl who made my life a living hell, and tonight she had chosen to swoop into my world once more.

"Hey, Noah!" she smiled, leaning against the side of Folio's truck with a flirtatious smile, as she playfully tugged at the hem of his hoodie, that instantly soured my stomach. "What’s a guy like you doing with a bunch of misfits?"

Laughter erupted in the group, but all I could focus on was the heat creeping up my neck. I could pretend I didn’t feel the flames of jealousy licking at my insides; I could act like I wasn’t feeling small and insignificant next to the Amazonian figure of Jordan. My fingers clenched and unclenched at my sides, desperate for release.

Noah chuckled awkwardly, side-eyeing me for a moment. "Just enjoying a bonfire. Nice to see you, Jordan." He nodded, taking a step back from her.

She leaned closer, her voice dripping with malice. "You could have a lot more fun with me" Then she turned her gaze to me, a wicked smile blooming on her lips. "What’s Roxy doing hanging out with all the boys? Shouldn't she be off somewhere shooting up with her mommy?”

Everyone was silent. Eyes widened in shock. The reaction was instantaneous, the alcohol coursing through my veins igniting a fire of courage I didn’t know I had. The scars from high school throbbed, and before I even registered what I was doing, I was stepping forward. “Say it again,” I demanded, my voice steady in its resolve. A quiet “oh shit” coming from somewhere behind me.

Jordan laughed, a sound that was anything but genuine. “What? You didn’t hear me?” She gave a fake pout, which only infuriated me further. "I said, 'Shouldn't you be off shooting up with your mother? Or maybe picking her up from another crackhouse?”

In less than a heartbeat, I charged, adrenaline coiling tightly in my chest. I lunged at her, and the shock in the crowd reverberated around me like an electric shock. I swept her legs from under her, and in a heartbeat, she was on the ground with a hard thud. “Fuck you!” I came down on her, my fists raining with a furious energy I didn’t know I possessed.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I heard gasps and murmurs ripple through the crowd, but they were drowned out by the pounding of my heart. Each punch was cathartic, breaking through years of pent-up anger, old wounds that had never fully healed.

But just as quickly as it had started, it ended. Noah’s arms were around me, pulling me away with a force that startled me back to reality. “Roxy! Stop!” His grip was firm, and his chest was solid against my back. I felt my fists clench and unclench, ready for more, but I made no more attempts. Breathing heavily, I turned to face him.

His large hands cupped my heated cheeks. “Are you okay?” His voice was low, concerned, but there was something else simmering beneath the surface—as if the situation sparked a fierce intensity within him.

Breathless, I nodded, though I could feel the remnants of adrenaline coursing through my veins. As the crowd began to murmur and disperse, Noah led me away from the fire, his arm around my waist, gently guiding me toward the makeshift parking lot in the gigantic field we were in. His grip was warm, sending sparks of something undeniable running through me.

Once we reached nicholas’s suv, he opened the door and sat me down in the passenger seat, standing between my thighs like an ever-looming wall of safety. “Where the hell did that come from?” he asked, his brows knitted together in concern, mixing with a hint of admiration that almost made my heart skip.

“I don’t know, Noah. I just…I can’t stand her. She used to do that shit to me in high school. She brought up my mom an—”

“Hey,” he interrupted softly, his expression shifting. “You shouldn’t let her get to you, she’s a fucking basic bitch that peaked in high school.”

I looked up at him, feeling the warmth of the evening wrap around us. “But she…I just wanted her to know I’m not the same girl she used to pick on anymore.” My breath hitched, the truth of it spilling out, sparking all sorts of feelings I hadn’t yet embraced.

“That much is clear, and I’m proud of you. I won’t lie, That was pretty bad ass.” he said, a slight smile breaking through. “And if I were her, I’d think twice before messing with you again.”

Noah’s words wrapped around me like an embrace, and for a moment, I felt invincible. “She wants you, and it makes me sick. She can’t take you away from me Noah..” I whispered, looking down as the weight of my emotions pressed on my chest.

He stepped even closer, the warmth of his body surrounded me, while his eyes searched mine. “You won’t lose me. You’re my best friend, Roxy. Always.”

“I’m sorry..” I sighed heavily dropping my head in embarrassment. He shook his head, his hand reaching out to stroke my cheek. "Don't apologize.” His touch sent a shiver down my spine, a sensation I had often felt around him but never wanted to acknowledge. I turned my face towards his hand, pressing a soft kiss on his palm.

"Thank you for always being there for me," I murmured, my eyes finally meeting with his.

In that moment, something shifted between us. The air crackled with unspoken feelings. He leaned in, his lips brushing mine softly, sending a jolt of electricity through your body. The kiss was soft and sweet, ending way too soon for my liking.

"I've wanted to do that for so long" he smiled, his smooth voice making me crazy. "I've always felt this way, but I didn't want to ruin our friendship." He eyed me almost nervously. Like he was waiting for my rejection.

I lifted my hand, lightly running it up his abdomen feeling every muscle beneath his shirt. I reached his neck, finally cupping his soft cheek in my hand. “Ive always wanted you Noah.” I whisper lightly, a small smile tracing my lips.

He smiled, a mix of relief and anticipation lighting up his handsome face. “You have me.” He whispered, running his big hands up my thighs.

Without waiting for a response, he leaned in again, this time not holding back. His lips were firm and demanding, yet tender, exploring every inch of my mouth as if memorizing the taste of me. I moaned softly, opening my mouth wider, inviting him in. His tongue slid against mine, a sensual battle for dominance that left mine breathless.

My hands roamed over his body, desperate to feel every inch of him. I tugged at his shirt, and he quickly obliged, shrugging it off, revealing his tatted up chest and abs. I couldn't resist running my hands over his skin, feeling the heat radiating from his body.

"Wait, not out here" Noah panted, breaking the kiss. "Scoot back"

I needed no further encouragement. I scrambled farther into the back seat, my heart pounding with anticipation. He followed, his eyes dark with lust, slamming the door closed behind him. He wasted no time, capturing my lips again as he pulled me onto his lap, my legs straddling his hips.

My fingers fumbled with his belt, eager to release the growing bulge in his jeans. He groaned as I freed his straining cock, stroking it gently, relishing the feel of his hardness in my hand.

"Fuck, baby," he breathed, his head falling back. "You have no idea how bad I’ve wanted this"

I smiled, trailing light kisses over his jaw. "Show me, then.”

With that, he grabbed the hem of my jeans. He slid them down and off, before finally guiding his cock to my already soaking pussy, slowly lowering me onto him, taking him inch by inch. I gasped as he filled me, stretching me deliciously. His hands gripped my hips, guiding my movements as I began to ride him, my wetness clinging to his shaft.

"You feel so fucking good," he grunted, his eyes rolling back in pleasure. "Your pussy so fucking tight. So perfect." He groaned, pulling my shirt off throwing somewhere in the car.

His words only served to heighten my arousal. I leaned forward, my breasts brushing against his chest as I quickened my pace. His hands roamed over my body, squeezing my breasts. A breathy moan escaped as he pinched my nipple, taking the other into his warm mouth sucking softly sending waves of pleasure through me.

"Fuck I'm so close," I whimpered, my voice breathless. "I'm gonna cum, Noah please."

He bucked his hips, driving himself deeper into me, at a fast pace. His lips released my nipple with a soft pop, as he groaned against my hot skin "Cum for me, baby. Let me feel it."

As if on cue, my orgasm crashed over me, ripples of pleasure radiating from my core. I cried out, my body trembling as he continued fucking me through it. Soon after he followed suit, his cock throbbing inside me as he came, filling me up.

Breathless and satisfied, I collapsed onto his chest, our hearts pounding in unison. He kissed the top of my head, his arms wrapped tightly around me. “Are you okay?” He whispered as his long fingers ran through my hair.

I lifted my head, cupping his cheeks with shaky hands. I kissed his lips softly, a huge smile falling over my lips. “I’m perfect.” He smiled, pecking my lips one last time before reaching for our clothes. We got dressed, and he turned toward me with his perfect smile. “You ready to go back out there?”

I sat quietly for a minute before giving him an answer. “Actually…can we go back home?” He smiled, nodding his head before leaving to round up the rest of the guys. My heart happy that the man I wanted, wanted me back.

[sundew199]

Random Reiner HCs (sfw)

A/n: a mix of relationship and non-relationship, some are modern day. Again these are just my headcanons, and just for fun :)

Will sing girly pop songs with you in the car, does not care.

Cannot sit on the couch for longer than 5 minutes or he’ll fall asleep and stay asleep for the rest of the day, you better hope and pray y’all don’t have plans

Has a HORRENDOUS farmers tan 💀, looks like he’s still wearing a shirt when he takes his off

Will only play videos games if Gabi and Falco ask him too, other than that he doesn’t play that often, but does like to watch you play your games. It’s like having your own narrator/commentator :)

Sets at least 10 alarms to get up for work in the morning but doesn’t wake up to any of them, you have to wake him up after the nth alarm by practically shoving him off the bed

Garbage disposal, will eat anything you cook without hesitation and don’t even think about buying snacks because they’ll barely last a day

Physical touch is one of his love languages 100%. If you don’t feel like cuddling in bed he’ll still find a way, like making sure his foot is touching yours 😭

He’s Bob the builders long lost brother, you’ll mention wanting a piece of furniture vaguely and he’s already putting together a mental list of the materials he needs to build it for you

Naturally fit, doesn’t need to go to the gym often to maintain his physique

Bisexual. (And I will not be elaborating)

Doesn’t mind doing skincare with you or letting you use him as a makeup canvas you just gotta convince him first,

Ironically isn’t that great with money, not extremely irresponsible but you have to hold onto his wallet or he’ll buy the entire store if he feels like it

Played sports in school, but never got that into them. He was naturally good and coaches loved him but couldn’t find the passion

Old man trapped in a younger body, swears he feels 50 when he’s only in his early twenties

He snores but SWEARS he doesn’t

Lowkey really bad at texting people back, prefers to call. And if he does call, clear your schedule cause it’s not going to be a quick one (you don’t mind hehehe)

He can be sooooooo dramatic if he wants to be. Over little inconveniences mostly he just wants to be babied, baby him >:(

Drives a truck and I mean like a 90s model Chevy pickup that he’s had since high school that he’s fully restored and is insanely proud of. Has not even considered getting a newer truck because he just can’t let go his older one (first big purchase he made, so it’s sentimental, leave him alone)

Very rarely has a filter, and not in that kinda way, he just sometimes says what he thinks out loud and you have to pretend you didn’t hear him and move on 😭

Is so blind to flirting, like total blindness. You had to finally spell it out to him that you LIKED him and not as a friend for him to realize what you were doing. It’s gotten worse since you and him have been together because he still doesn’t realize when other people flirt or throw themselves at him (he can be such a himbo, I love him)

Cat person

Very in tune with his emotions. Wasn’t always like that since he had a rough childhood but after going to therapy after high school he doesn’t conceal his emotions anymore and can be upfront at times

Does NOT play about you. Reiner is a very sweet caring person but the second he notices you’re uncomfortable around a guy/girl a flip switches and he turns into the intimidating beefy dude that no one wants to fuck with. (It’s lowkey so hot)

Worships you, (obviously) by buying flowers at least every week or two so that way they never die. Date nights, weekend trips, the whole nine yards. He loves spending time with you and showing you how much you mean to him

Grew up catholic, doesn’t practice anymore due to the conformity pushed onto him. Isn’t really religious in general but does believe in a high power.

Wants a big family. At least two kids, maybe more if you’re willing. Doesn’t like the idea of his child not having siblings like him and also just loves family orientation in general. Definitely a big family guy. 

Good with kids 😈

If you use any lingo around him like say: girl, girly, pookie, bae, dawg, homie, bro, etc. he will eventually start to use it unironically until he can’t stop. (I may be projecting but it’s funny so idc.)

[embodyingchaos]

Haii

I was wondering is you could do a Rodrick Heffley x reader with female pronouns where she is a singer and maybe they meet at the battle of the bands or something and fall for each other

pleas and thank you , your amazing 🫶💗

❥ hi there, sweetie! of course i can!! hope you like this!

potential pairing: rodrick heffley x fem!reader genre: fluff, strangers to lovers warnings: rodrick is a goofball, y/n's band is named velvet ecstasy(dont ask), the band plays garbage truck from scott pilgrim vs the world mUAHAHH word count: 1.3k

tapping her foot on the pavement, her patience was running thin. y/n was waiting for the rest of her band to arrive, they were late and they had less than ten minutes to check in. “when i get my hands on those fuckers, they’re so dead.” she whispered under her breath, talking to nobody but herself.

“well, i wouldn’t wanna be one of those fuckers.” a voice from beside her says, “you look like you can punch.” she looked next to her and saw a boy that was about the same age as her. he was cute with his shaggy hair and m-1965 field jacket, especially with his black, emo eyeliner. “i’m rodrick.” he introduced himself, trying to lean on the wall before missing it and hitting his face on the surface. he recovered pretty quickly, leading y/n to assume that this wasn’t the first time he’d done that.

she eyed him up and down before smirking, “y/n.” she said her name, making rodrick’s heart beat faster. “you performing or watching?” rodrick flipped his hair away from his face, “performing. i’m a drummer.” he said, “i’m, uh, pretty good too. pretty bomb.” the boy boasted before turning away for a moment and questioning himself on why he just said ‘bomb’. y/n grinned at that. 

“sure you are, bub.” she giggled and rodrick could feel himself ascending to heaven. “hey, y/n!” a voice called out and they turned to the road. a cherry red car had just pulled up with four other people in it; y/n’s band. “took you guys long enough! i aged like five years waiting for you bozos!” she yelled, half-jokingly. y/n turned back to rodrick, “i’ll see you inside, rodrick. can’t wait to see your ‘bomb’ drumming skills.” she gave him a charming smile before heading towards her band members, giving each of them a slap to the back of their head.

rodrick stared at her until she entered the building, admiring her face, her smile, her laugh. “rod!” ben was waving his hand in front of rodrick’s face, “we gotta go! they’re already starting to perform!” he urged him but rodrick only sighed dreamily as he thought of her, “right.” he simply said, not listening to his friend. ben let out an ‘ugh’ before dragging the boy into the building and backstage.

“marty, what are you doing?” y/n asked the boy as he tied up his dreads, “tying up my hair?” “no- i know that! where’s your guitar?!” she asked frantically, marty looked at her weirdly. “next to you?” he pointed beside her and there was his sleek, black electric guitar in its stand. a pink tint coloured y/n’s cheeks, “oh.” she said sheepishly, a nervous laugh coming out of her mouth. their drummer, jules, wrapped an arm around the girl. “you gotta chill, girlie. we’re all prepared and ready, and we weren’t even that late.” jules assured, rubbing y/n’s shoulder as she sighed. “plus, you weren’t alone when we got here. seemed like somebody had company.” jules said in a teasing-sing-songy way, y/n shoved her lightly.

“shut up, he was just one of the drummers from another band-” “gasp! fraternising with the enemy?! how could you, n/n?!” jules joked, an offended expression on her face. y/n giggled before pushing her away, “shut up!” she exclaimed, their bassist, pearl, placed her hand on jules. “stop it, babe. you’ll make her cry or something.” she told her girlfriend who began laughing even harder. 

y/n puffed up her cheeks, “that was one time!” she yelled while they cackled away, “are we talking about that one time y/n started crying when we teased her so much about her crush on that substitute teacher?” their keyboardist, george, asked out of nowhere, y/n glared at him as marty only smiled.

“god, i can’t get one break with you people.” the girl huffed, crossing her arms and walking away towards the side so she could watch the next band perform. “now, everybody get ready!” the mc announced as rodrick’s band got up on stage. “get ready to be blown away by- löded diper?” the mc seemed confused on how to pronounce it, “it’s- it’s löded diper (loaded diaper)!” rodrick shouted at him, “whatever!” yeah, the mc did not care.

when they started playing, y/n couldn’t take her eyes of rodrick. he wasn’t the best drummer, but he had the right attitude and enthusiasm for it. he looked like he was having the time of his life.

“that your new boyfriend?” george joked from behind her, “can you not?” y/n hissed, snapping at him. george held his hands up and chuckled, “alright.” he said, smiling. “you should ask him out, you guys looked good together just now.” she tilted her head to the side, “maybe i will.” she muttered, staring at the boy who was going ham on the drum set.

after their performance, rodrick exited the stage using  the side that y/n was at. “impressed?” he asked slyly, she smiled. “yeah. pretty ‘bomb’.” the girl joked and rodrick’s face turned red out of embarrassment. just as he was about to say something, pearl approached them. “i’m sorry to interrupt this adorable exchange but we’re going on now, n/n.” she told her band member, “right.” y/n nodded as the rest of the band got ready on stage, “wish me luck, pretty boy.” she poked his shoulder before making her way to her band.

“this is a band that’s entirely new! it’s their first time performing so be gentle, give it up for velvet ecstasy!” the crowd cheered as y/n walked up to the center of the stage, “are you ready?!” she asked only to receive loud and encouraging replies from the audience. y/n turned around to jules to give her the signal. “we are velvet ecstasy! one, two, three, four!” jules shouted before starting off their song with her drums as pearl and marty accompanied with their strings.

when y/n started to sing, rodrick could not believe his ears or eyes. she wasn’t the best singer, but her charisma and tiny little moves were something you could not take your eyes off of. “i’ll take you for a ride, on my garbage truck.” she held onto the mic and the stand as she sang, tapping her foot and swaying her hips, tossing her hair. rodrick was mesmerised to say the least. “they’re way too good.” ben commented, worried about whether they’re going to win or not. rodrick did not care.

as their performance came to an end, the crowd was more than hyped up. “god, that was exhilarating!” pearl exclaimed, “wow, i have never seen her this excited before. says a lot.” marty commented as he watched her punch the air, “let’s fucking go!” jules screamed, wrapping her arms around her girlfriend and spinning her around. george and y/n laughed as they watched, feeling high off of performing.

“hey.” rodrick called out and the entire band turned around. “ooo! y-” “no.” pearl cut jules off, dragging her away. “we’ll see you later, n/n!” “don’t go making out somewhere.” the boys joked, receiving a glare from the girl.

“hi, there.” she greeted rodrick back, suddenly feeling shy. “you were amazing out there.” he gushed, “i could say the same thing about you and your band.” she softly chuckled, looking down at the ground. rodrick didn’t say anything, which cause her to look back up at him. it was very silent. “would you want to go out some time?” “would you want to go out some time?” they asked in unison and their eyes widened before they burst out laughing.

when they calmed down, y/n smirked. “alright, then. let me give you my number.” rodrick scrambled to get out his flip phone and hand it to her. when y/n finished typing out her number, she returned his phone to him. “call me.” she simply said before giving him a kiss on the cheek, walking away to find her friends.

rodrick could not believe what just happened. when he looked down at his phone and saw that her contact was named ‘potential girlfriend’, he squealed so hard. it was easy to say, he was definitely, already infatuated.

[teecupangel]

So, we've had Desmond in the P5 universe. What if he landed earlier during the events of P3/FES/Reload? I think he would have a deep connection/bond to the protagonist considering both died to save the world. How would things play out in your headcanon?

The Persona 5 with Desmond idea for those curious.

I haven’t played P3R yet but I did play the OG P3, FES and Portable when it came out so we’ll be focusing on the og one for this.

Or maybe we’ll focus on the idea that P3R is a stealth ‘sequel’ and set it up first with Desmond waking up and talking a young boy with dark blue hair, asking him to sign in.

Desmond thought that he was in the afterlife and, sure, it looked like an average looking homey hotel but fine, he’d seen weirder shit in his life thanks to the Isus and the Animus so he just signed in.

He wakes up in a small apartment and a Japanese guy looking over him, telling him that he found Desmond where garbage bags were placed for the garbage truck to get them (Monday, Wednesday and Friday, Monday and Wednesday for burnable, Friday for not. He found Desmond on a Tuesday)

The man introduces himself as Edogawa and lets Desmond stay as he feels weak for some reason. By the time Desmond is strong enough to check his surrounding…

He finds out he’s in Japan, a city called Tatsumi Port Island.

And…

It’s the year 2009.

His phone isn’t working at all. No matter how much he tried to turn it on. When he borrowed Edogawa’s computer, there is no mention of Abstergo in the internet at all.

And the email he remembered his team had and the emergency email that Erudito gave him bounced back.

It took a few days before Desmond finally agreed that he wasn’t kicked into the past.

This was another world.

A world where the Assassins and the Templars didn’t exist.

Things turned weirder because the first time Desmond stays late at night, the city transforms and he is attacked by strange creatures…

He manages to take care of them thanks to his hidden blade and the knife he still had on his bag but their battle only ‘invited’ more creatures that tried to attack Desmond.

So he runs. He turns the corner…

And finds himself in a bar mostly painted in blue velvet.

And on the counter stands a woman who calls herself “Elizabeth”.

She welcomes him as a ‘unexpected guest’ and tells her about the Dark Hour and the Shadows.

She opens her book and shows him the page of the Fool Arcana, explaining to him that he signed the contract and is now able to serve as an ‘authorized representative’. Elizabeth will serve as the host of his Velvet Room.

She requests him to defeat the Shadows and challenge the Avatar of the Fall.

… and…

To change the ending.

Unorganized Notes:

I kinda like the idea of this being FeMC instead of the og MC of P3 but you decide XD

We are going to use a lot of FeMC’s alternate scenes (mainly because I want Shinjiro to live)

He becomes the bartender in Club Escapade and meets the MC during his first visit there. He keeps an eye on the MC because the MC likes to ‘pay’ the fortune teller there to check his fortune or something.

Desmond actually appears to the SEES members during the High Priestess boss fight. He can’t believe that kids are fighting the Shadows. He recognized the MC and also Junpei who has also visited the club before.

Desmond is more or less ‘recruited’ by the Kirijo group and Desmond agreed because they’re kids, he can’t just let them do this on their own. Desmond transfers to the dorm as a… ‘caretaker’

… which he actually does. He cooks them food (thank you, Ratonhnhaké:ton’s bleed) and cleans. He also walks Koromaru whenever he does grocery. By that point, he quits his job in the club.

SEES members think of him more like an older brother. He gets roped with Fuuka’s cooking and jogs with Akihiko at times. He helps out Junpei with his English assignments. He makes Ken coffee and is even roped by Ken to teach him how to make coffee the way he does. He also more than once slips inside the school because Yukari asked him to help her with her archery for some reason. His favorite is Mitsuru though because she tells him he can borrow her motorcycle any time he wants.

Aegis is wary of him which is fair and she’s always confused to why she always feels the need to have him in her sight. It becomes a running joke how Aegis has imprinted on both Desmond and the MC.

We never talked about Desmond’s Persona, right?

That’s because he doesn’t have one.

The first Persona he summons is a Pixie and the book that Elizabeth has is already filled completely. He can summon the Personas there as long as he pays the price and he can fuse them.

But he cannot overwrite the Personas in the book.

Desmond is the Avatar of the Fool.

… specifically… he is the Avatar of the original messiah that became a door to halt the end from happening.

The young boy who asked him to sign?

That wasn’t Pharos.

It was the male main character’s child form. To be more exact, how he looked when he lost his parents. He connected with Desmond so Desmond could become his avatar and changed the ending of this ‘repeat’ (aka Reload) that Elizabeth managed to create. He appears in Desmond’s dream as a glowing figure (and the red herring is making us think he’s the Reader but he’s not). The book Elizabeth is using to support Desmond is his compendium.

So yeah…

This is actually a fix it fic idea for Persona 3.

[fnaflucasverse]

Bad Taste In Music

i Cannot believe we get perry and tiger before the guy this au is named after. but that's what happens when you go insane over tiger liking r&b ig! apologies if it's kind of a nothing story and if tigers kind of ooc but i liked writing it. is this canon to lucasverse? idk! is it me having fun with my two fav guys? ya <3 but oh i should not have stayed up this late to finish this.....

Tiger belongs to @fivenightsatfreddysfanfiction

A little while into her training, somewhere above the drum-pounding rhythm of her fists against the punching bag, Peregrine began to hear music.

And it wasn't the good shit she sometimes heard on the truck radio, with crunchy electric guitars and crashing cymbals—it was that sappy, soulful, piano ballad garbage that always made her switch stations. With a groan, Peregrine sped up her jabs, hoping to drown out the din… but like the worst kind of bug, the music wormed its way into her ear, into her brain, and twisted like a knife.

She punched faster, hit harder, felt the pain shockwave from her knuckles up her arm. Even still, Peregrine heard the song.

She grit her teeth against it; the singer's words were indistinct, but the tune carried all the damn same. The more the song grated on, the more fleeting thoughts shot through Peregrine's mind: a kind, smiling face, singing a tender lullaby to a restless toddler and her brother, the feeling of being warm, safe, and—

She couldn’t fucking train to this shit.

With a roar, Peregrine's fist slammed square into her target. The punching bag flew into the air, viciously pulled back to earth by its chain. It swung at Peregrine with a vengeance—but she had already left the gym, stalking through the hallway for her next victim.

The hallway opened up into the living room, where a TV sputtered static at peeling leather armchairs and mismatched chairs gathered around the makeshift dining table. In the center sat the source of the noise: a record player, still crooning away. And sitting in front of it, slumped shoulders shielding Peregrine from the culprit…

Peregrine's lips drew out into a thin line.

Her old man was getting drunk again.

She'd be less surprised if she could see beer cans anywhere, anything to say he’d been drinking the cheap beer he made her restock every other fucking day—but he was staring, gaze empty and distant, at the whiskey bottle strangled in his grip. And if it was whiskey he was drinking—as if the music wasn't a giveaway—he was thinking about her mother.

And he'd promised the Boss he'd stopped.

God-fucking-damnit.

Peregrine stomped up and yanked the needle away from the record with a satisfying screech.

Tiger spun around, hand instinctively reaching for a pistol that wasn’t there. Peregrine crossed her arms, watching him recognize her, freeze, and sink back into the chair, shaking his head. “Jesus, Lee, you don’t just…" Alcohol coated his breath. “You’re done early.”

“I’m taking a break." Peregrine jerked her chin towards the record player. “Where the hell did you get that?"

Tiger's head swiveled towards it like he'd forgotten it was there. "That's just… something I found in the old stash." He set the bottle down, rubbing the back of his head like a kid caught with his hand in Dad's wallet. "Just thought I'd fix it up, see if it still works… Could sell it, you know; people collect this sort of—sort of thing and…"

He trailed off as Peregrine picked up the record to frown at the label. Who the hell was Whitney Houston? "Uh-huh. And you found this with it, too?" Perry tried twirling the record on her finger—

Her father snatched it faster than she could blink. "Lee, you don't play with things you could break," he scolded.

Peregrine rolled her eyes. He'd never stopped telling her off and never would until he dropped dead, and even then he'd probably return as a ghost to tell her off even more. She swiped his whiskey and hopped up on the table, resting her bored chin in her palm as he watched him hunt for the sleeve to return his record to. Bottle was half-empty. Peregrine watched Tiger carefully slide the record back into place, spying the tracklist on the back. Ugh. 'Love' this, 'Love' that. It made her want to throw up.

“You actually like this kind of shit, old man?" she snorted, only half in disbelief.

“She’s a very talented singer,” Tiger defended, closing the record player with a click. His eyes clouded. "Anyway, it was—it… belonged to your mother."

Peregrine shut up. Tiger took it as an invitation to continue whatever 'when we were all younger but especially you' spiel he had ready to vent. “You know, Lee…,” he began, clearing his throat, an uncomfortable phlegmy sound.

Peregrine's eyes drifted to the ceiling. Better to let him talk. He'd get it all out of his system, and she'd go dump whatever whiskey was left down the drain.

"You know… your mother used to sing these songs to you, get you to sleep easier. I don't think you remember any of it—you would've been five or so—but…" A nostalgic, weary smile crossed her father's face, always a little alarming to see nowadays. "God, there were days when you would just not go to sleep! Neither could we. You used to be scared of every little thing, just crying and crying—"

"That's gotta be bullshit," Peregrine grumbled.

"—We were really worried about you, Lee," he continued. "But then Jaq figured out you liked being sung to—especially this one song—what was it—'The Greatest Love Of All?' But that was the year…" The smile melted from Tiger's face, turning into a familiar frown. "Anyway, that's when Ms. Houston herself helped out," he said, giving the record player a firm pat.

Peregrine felt cool, smooth glass in her hands, the swirling weight of the whiskey, the gnawing of memories as they scratched at her skull.

The smiling face. The gentle voice. The feeling of warmth and safety and…

And love.

There was a strange knot in her throat.

"Yeah, yeah," Peregrine abruptly snapped, rocketing to her feet, "and when Panther gets back, he'll want to know why the hell you lied to his face. So just gimme that—" she grabbed the record and bundled the player under her arm— "I'll get rid of it." She glared at Tiger, his expression flashing through bitterness, guilt, resignation… "Drink some water. And take a fucking nap; you're being pathetic," she cut into him, whiskey bottle hanging from her fingers.

He didn't meet her eyes.

"'Night, old man," Peregrine muttered, and strode away.

She didn't head back to the gym.

She didn't get rid of her contraband.

She headed straight to her room, shoved them both under her bed, poured the bottle's contents out the window, and curled up on her mattress, letting second by second tick agonizingly by. And when, and only when the world was nothing but darkness, Peregrine retrieved the record player, cranked the volume as quiet as it could go, and, as Whitney's voice crackled softly, she let her eyes slip shut.

[theunholyrogue]

a bad day (bayv! Donnie x GN reader) part 1

don angst just doesn’t exist unless it’s completely revolving around april… so here’s one that isn’t just about april! i know don isn’t a big part in this but he will be in part 2

tw: angst, 18+ nsfw, cursing, fighting (physically and verbally), alcohol and cigarette mentions, brief forced intimacy + sa mentions, abuse (ties in with the fighting)

read part two here

“You’ve gotta be kiddin’ me,” you muttered, staring down at your plastered guardian, lying comfortably in their recliner with old reruns playing softly on the television beside you.

“Guess you are TOO hammered to come to my match tonight,” you continued to mumble quietly to yourself, dropping your duffle bag to the ground and grabbing the remote from the coffee table, clicking the TV off. “No, it’s FINE. It’s not like I want you a part of my life or nothin’.”

Your eyes glared daggers at them, resentment having been building up for years. You wished that they would act like the guardian they claim to be, to have some parental role in your life, but you weren’t destined to have that, were you?

After cleaning up some of the stray beer cans and cigarette butts, you grabbed your duffle bag and walked back to the front door to your run-down apartment. You thought about announcing your whereabouts, but that would only be a waste of breath.

It wasn’t a hard decision on where you would end up, having already decided on hearing down to the lair to see your boyfriend and his brothers. You had a lot on your mind and figured that Donatello might be able to distract you with some science experiment or new tech thing he may be working on.

It was still afternoon, so you figured that the guys wouldn’t be on patrol just yet, and had your suspicions confirmed whenever you entered the lair after a 15 minute walk and saw Leonardo and Raphael sparring.

The two brothers hadn’t noticed you, or if they did they were too in tune with their match to speak, so you left them alone to finish their spar and would say your ‘hello’s’ later in the evening. You couldn’t pinpoint Michaelangelo, and honestly couldn’t think about the possibility of his whereabouts at any given time other than with pizza or comic books. That left one terrapin, who was sitting in front of the Shell-Raiser, presumably doing repairs to the outer shell.

“Hey,” you stated, setting your bag down and walking up next to the turtle.

“Hey, love,” Donatello replied, giving you a brief look before returning to the garbage truck. “What are you up to?” He asked, marking points on the shell for future screws.

“Um, just coming over here before my match tonight,” You replied, taking a seat next to the turtle and grabbing the tools that laid in your now seating spot. “Are you going to be there?”

“I’m not sure,” Donatello replied, taking a step back to turn his attention to you. “It’s just that I have this to finish up and-,”

You cut the terrapin off, “No, no, it’s fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“I mean, yeah, I’ll have-,” you stated before being cut off by the sound of Donnie’s T-Phone going off. You furrowed your eyebrows as he answered, watching him talk to -who you could come to the conclusion of being- April.

“Oh, yeah, I’m on my way,” He said as he hung up, standing from his spot. You followed suit, your extremities starting to feel the sense of a familiar, anxiety-related jitteriness that you often experienced.

“What’s wrong?” You asked.

“Vern’s camera is doing some weird, glitchy thing from what April said, she needs me to fix it so that she can do her report,” Donatello responded, gathering his supplies.

You felt your heart drop.

“Yeah, they also work for Channel 6 News, who can get them a new camera,” you retorted, but he didn’t stop in his tracks. “Did they even try calling their boss?”

“No, I guess not, but I need to go.”

You reached out and grabbed him by the wrist, finally getting the turtle to stop and look at you.

“What’s wrong?” Donatello asked, a sigh escaping his lips afterwards.

You widened your eyes, “You can’t be serious,” you stated, but the terrapin looked impatient. “You just told me that you couldn’t come to my match tonight because you had things to do but the moment April calls, you suddenly have the time to run to her aid?”

“This is for her job,” Donatello stated, your name flowing off his tongue afterwards like unsatisfying candy.

“A job that can provide her and her cameraman with another camera. Is that seriously more important than watching your own partner’s last match of the season?”

“You just said there would more-,”

“Yeah- practice matches! That’s not even the issue here,” You asked, your grip tightening on his wrist.

Donatello pulled his arm away from your grip, “April is already walking on a thin rope, she can’t lose her job again. I’m sorry, I really need to help a friend out,” He spoke softly before leaving the lair.

You stood there in his lab for what felt like hours, stunned at how the turtle just left you. A tear slipped down your face before you quickly wiped it away, walking back over to your bag, grabbing it, and swiftly exiting the lair without saying goodbye.

——

April had brought the camera to the rooftop to protect the terrapin’s identity. Blissfully unaware of the precious events that had occurred between you and the turtle, she asked about the two of you and how you were doing.

“Well,” Don started to explain as he pulled the camera apart, pulling away to click his headlamp as the sun began to set behind the two. “They are probably mad at me now.”

“Why?” April asked, leaning against the side of the ledge with her arms crossed, awaiting his explanation. The turtle told the female what had gone down between the two of you, and April furrowed her eyebrows.

“Donatello! No sir! You can’t treat your partner like that! They should always come first to you and vice versa. Vern could have easily called and got another camera.”

Donatello gulped, remembering the exact same words that you had already said about the situation. He really treated you like shit.

“You need to apologize and make it up to them immediately, that is unacceptable,” April scolded, walking over and taking the camera pieces back from the turtle. “Don’t lose the good thing you have because you think other things are more important. Nothing should be more important than them. Now go, buh bye!” She stated before waving him off.

——

You were early arriving at the boxing gym. You thought for a moment that you were the only person there until a familiar face turned the corner from the locker rooms. You started to head for the other set of locker rooms before the person caught your full attention.

“You good?” Eric asked, stopping to look at you. You paused, gazing at him and nodding in response, barely catching what he had asked.

“Yea-Yeah, I’m good. Ready for tonight?” You asked, him nodding in response.

“Yeah. Too bad we don’t get to fight each other anymore this season. You’re one of the best,” Eric winked.

You smiled. “Thanks, I practice hard for it.”

You felt the air become tense and awkward between the two of you. When had he gotten so close? You were about to step away from the male and excuse yourself to the locker room before he glared at you, aggressively pressing you against the concrete wall and pressing his lips to yours.

You felt your fight or fight kick in, immediately pushing the male away from you. “Back off! There’s not a chance in hell that you would have a shot!” You exclaimed, shocked.

Eric furrowed his eyebrows before lunging at you, “Then I guess I’ll just make you,” he muttered.

You thrusted against him, maneuvering yourself so that you could knee yourself to freedom. Eric feel the floor, wincing and groaning in pain as you quickly moved away and into the locker room, locking the door behind you until it was closer to match time.

You were shaking as you felt the adrenaline coursing through your veins, sliding down the back of the door and tucking your head between your legs in order to calm yourself down. You couldn’t believe what just happened, or what had almost happened, what would have happened had you not been strong enough to get away on your own.

And unbeknownst to you, your boyfriend had witnessed the entire event through a glass window engraved into the roof of the building, and he was sick.

——

You stood there, looking out at the crowd as sweat beads trickled down your forehead before dripping off of your eyelashes. Your arm being held up by the referee as your name is announced to the audience as the winner for the 10th time this season. You had won every single match and had had a happy coach to show for it.

But something about the current situation made your stomach turn, you hadn’t felt this way at any of your previous matches. Andy before you could put your finger on what it was, you felt your hands being dropped and the silhouette of a male sliding in underneath the ropes of the ring. You didn’t have enough time to react before his fist collided with your nose, sending you backwards and onto the mat.

You could hear the uproar around you from the crowd, some believing that this was a skit like WWE, some concerned for your wellbeing, and other comments, but you had to focus on the male that was walking towards you and Ray to finish you off.

You were too focused on protecting yourself to catch his identity at the moment, as he went to take another swing, you raised your left arm to cover your face and used your right arm to attack. You overcorrected, sending the back of the bent wrist into the cheekbone of whoever stood above you. With your force, you caused them to stumble backwards, giving you time to stand up and defend yourself, correcting yourself with your next move, an uppercut, that sent your attacker to the floor. You backed away like you finally heard your coach yelling at you to do, and noticed that Eric was the one who attacked you.

You thought about continuing the fight, but stepped out of the rink before you could act on your instincts. You immediately started to walk to the locker room, glancing into the mirror to notice your nose was bleeding.

“Mother fucker,” you muttered, changing into your old clothes and having a handful of tissues, wiping your nose and sneaking out of the back door to the building to head home. You needed to get home before something else happened to you.

——

Once you got home, you tried to head for you room immediately, until you heard your name being called from the living room. You held the napkin to your nose and peeked into the room to your guardian half awake and drunkenly looking for you.

“What?”

“Go grab me a beer.”

“Get it yourself,” You mumbled.

“What?” They asked, raising their voice.

You dropped your bag before looking at them. “Go get it yourself, you lazy piece of shit!”

“The fuck you just say,” they exclaimed, standing up and walking over to you and standing over you.

“I didn’t stutter,” You mouthed.

You felt a sudden sting on your cheek. “You got real nerve actin’ Like that! I work hard to keep us here!”

“Oh yeah, you’re late on rent, maybe chill on the alcohol addiction and try keeping a suitable living place for your kid,” you stated.

“You mind your own got damn business, you little shit!”

“Then act like I’m your business! You have a problem,” You stated before turning and going to your room.

At least, before you heard the sound of a grunt and glass breaking, and a hard knock to the back of your head before everything went black.

[fearhims3lf]

TIMING: Morning After Pretenders

PARTIES: @loftylockjaw @fearhims3lf

SUMMARY: Mateo picks Wyatt up, and the two have a heartfelt conversation on the way home.

WARNINGS: None

Wyatt hadn’t slept well, of course, and his body still ached from the beating it’d taken from those demonic, feathered fuckers. The night with Caleb had been a gentle reminder of all the things they still needed to talk about, and the anxiety that stemmed from having that conversation looming on the horizon had kept him up better than any threats of nightmares could have. Caleb didn’t sleep, just like Mateo, so they’d just spent the night talking about anything other than what had happened, filling the silence between conversations with whatever was on the television. It’d been nice, in its way, even if he was exhausted. And come morning, he’d excused himself to go deal with his disaster of a life — there was no way he was fighting tonight, so he’d need to see if Agnes or someone else could move things around. 

Wandering through the streets of Deersprings and stopping at the first coffee house he passed, Wyatt texted Mateo to let him know where he could find him. He looked tired when the mare arrived, despite the finished coffee he tossed in the garbage bin on the sidewalk before climbing into the passenger’s side seat. Huffing out a weary breath, he leaned his head back against the headrest and closed his eyes, brows furrowed. 

“Fuck,” he muttered for no reason in particular other than how shitty he felt. But he wasn’t the only one feeling like crap, so he did roll his head to the side to look at Mateo, flashing him a brief, weak smile before reaching across the console between them to put a hand on his thigh. “Hey.” He felt compelled to apologize, which was stupid — they’d both gone through last night together, and were both hurting in similar ways. There was nothing to apologize for. So he didn’t, instead just giving the man’s leg a squeeze.“Good to see you.”

—

The old truck's engine rumbled and revved under the pressure of the mare's foot. He could smell the small hint of exhaust while he was stopped at a light. The window was down and he could feel the breeze dance on his skin as his arm dangled out the window. Mateo didn't know what to make of everything, but he at least found some comfort in the way Wyatt squeezed his leg and muttered a reassurance. He needed that more than he'd ever admit, though he was sure they way he slid his hand into Wyatt's said it all. 

“Fuck, indeed. You look like shit.” The mare said blatantly, with a hint of humor in his tone. “Still nice to see you too, though.” He offered a languid smile in return, shifting gears as they went up a small hill. They weren't too far from Mateo's place, but the drive felt much longer than it needed to. All the mare wanted to do was get in bed and forget how pathetic he'd been in the last fourteen hours as he moped around his apartment with Angel pacing right behind him. 

He wasn't sure why he'd been so jealous, why Wyatt wouldn't just let him pick him up or visit. Did that Caleb guy matter more? Was…Ah, shit, Mateo thought. He was being pathetic again. It needed to stop, he knew that. But before he could hold his tongue, he asked, “You dating that Caleb guy?”

—

Scoffing at Mateo’s astute observation, Wyatt closed his eyes again and settled in for the ride. The question that broke the silence was one he should have expected, but it made his throat close up all the same. There was no good reason for it — Mateo knew Wyatt had been at least messing around with people outside of their throuple situation, and had expressed to him that it was fine, and yet… well, maybe it was mostly just the guilt of not having had this conversation with Caleb yet. Caleb never really thought they were dating, but then Wyatt used the b-word. Caleb had said more than once now that he wanted to be in Wyatt’s life, no matter what that looked like, but Wyatt still hadn’t been forthcoming with those details. He wanted to, it just seemed like there was never a good fucking time for it. Which was maybe an excuse, but he knew he had to get it over with. He was just afraid that it would be too much for Caleb, which was why he hadn’t wanted Mateo to pop over with hardly any kind of explanation or formal introduction. 

“I… think so,” he answered honestly. “There’s still a lot of things to talk about, you know? Uh. We didn’t really… start off on the most honest footin’. Met about this time last year. Didn’t tell him ‘bout my night job. Didn’t tell ‘im ‘bout the nightmares, when they started. Separated for a while, when he…” Well, that wasn’t exactly Wyatt’s story to tell, at least not without Caleb’s permission. “Anyway. Weren’t his fault. I went off the deep end, n’ we only just reconnected ‘bout a month ago.” The lamia shifted himself in his seat, lifting his head away from the headrest and staring at the road in front of them. “I care ‘bout him, though. A lot. He’s got baggage, same as you n’ me, but he’s a good person.” Probably too good for me, even with that baggage, Wyatt thought. But he didn’t want to insinuate that Mateo was any different by leaving him out of the statement, so it remained in his head. 

—

Mateo gripped the steering wheel tighter, and he chided himself internally for it. He had no right to be jealous, but there was something that felt uncomfortable about not being told about Caleb. Because it likely meant Wyatt hadn't mentioned Mateo either. The very thought made his stomach sink, and he squeezed the steering wheel even harder. 

Why would Wyatt want to mention the mare anyway? All the money in the world couldn't hide the fact that Mateo wasn't good to keep around. He was a lost cause to a life he wasn't even supposed to be living. He was foolish to think he would ever be worthy of long lasting connections. Xóchitl was the first to realize, and it was only a matter of time before Wyatt did too. Mateo figured it would be in his best interest to just rip off the bandaid sooner rather than later, but he was too selfish and weak to do so. 

“That's…nice. Good for you.” He spoke flatly, a bit dejected but he tried his best to sound a little more himself as he continued. “You just can't help yourself, can you, slut?”

—

Wyatt didn’t miss the tone of Mateo’s voice, or… lack thereof. It made his skin prickle uncomfortably and he shifted in his seat, drawing his arms back to himself to scrub his palms over his face, groaning as he leaned forward in his seat. “No, I can’t,” he answered Mateo, though his own inflection wasn’t quite as carefree as he would’ve liked. “... I don’t know what I’m doin’, man. I feel like I gotta fight fuckin’ tooth and nail to get people to stay. And when things seem good, I… I don’t wanna do nothin’ that’ll disrupt that.” But that wasn’t an excuse, and it didn’t mean he could keep Mateo a secret. Not that he was trying to keep him secret, necessarily, but that was a big conversation, and… “I ain’t good with words, in case you hadn’t noticed. Even worse with… everythin’ else. Actions speak louder, or whatever, and I keep screwin’ the pooch.” And to add injury to insult, the world seemed out to target him specifically. First it was the legs, then the beak, and now the birdlike monsters that had attacked them last night. His greatest fears were manifesting outside his nightmares and trying to rip him apart, and it made him jump at every shadow, tense at every squawk and screech and chirp he heard. It made him worry that he might start seeing his mother next, and if something as innocuous as birds had become such a pain point for him, he couldn’t imagine being confronted with some twisted version of his mother that was trying to rip his throat out. That might send him to a place he wouldn’t be able to come back from. 

“Anyway. Gonna talk to him about it. All of it. All of…” Wyatt gestured at Mateo, keeping his tired eyes facing forward. “Maybe when I ain’t bangin’ down death’s door, though.”

—

Whatever was going through Wyatt's head had to be hard for him, and it wasn't fair to him that Mateo was acting like a clingy asshole. The mare couldn't get people to stay either, but there was a good reason for that. Whatever Mateo wanted in life, when he practiced an ounce of selfishness, it always cost him. Always led to tons of regret and disapproval. Not that Wyatt disapproved, but Mateo had experienced that elsewhere. He could hear his father right then. 

You have responsibilities, Mateo. Family is family. People don't love selfish men. 

Filipe wasn't a selfish man, and look at him. A loving wife and five children that respected him and adored him. Sometimes even feared him. But that was a secret Mateo kept to himself. It felt ridiculous to be scared of a man that he could thrust terror onto, and he wasn't going to subject himself to that sort of joke. He'd had enough of that growing up, but it looked like he was a joke again anyway, and the punchline was his own doing. 

“You're doing fine.” Mateo finally managed to say, only just realizing tears were starting to muddy his vision. He quickly blinked them away, ensuring to keep his gaze forward so Wyatt couldn't see. It was probably time to set the man free from deadweight. Mateo knew that's all he was now. Had been for about five years. “Nothing practice can't help, y'know?” He paused for a moment, adding, “And you don't have to say anything. If you wanna be done, be done. I'd get it. Really.” With a languid shrug, Mateo turned at a corner and watched his apartment building grow closer with each roll of his truck’s tires.

—

Well that wasn’t what he’d been expecting to hear. Wyatt lifted his gaze, sitting up straighter as he stared over at Mateo. Be done? “That’s the last thing I want,” he choked out. “No, Mateo — I’m gonna tell him. And if he doesn’t like it, well, then that’s… that’s it, you know?” The truck rolled to a stop at the curb, and the two men sat quietly while the engine still rumbled and filled the silence between them. Only for a few seconds, though, before Wyatt was speaking again. “I can’t go back to… I’d just hurt him eventually, if he ain’t okay with it. That’s all I been doin’ all my life — hurtin’ people. I can’t do that no more. You… you were the first to…” 

He swallowed hard, dropping his gaze to his lap. “You showed me that it’s okay to be the way that I am. That it can work. That’s… that’s huge. I know it probably don’t seem like much to you, but I…” I might not have been this lonely for this long if I’d known I could just lead with that, and find people who were like me. Like us. “Whatever happens with Xó, or with Caleb, I don’t wanna lose you too. You’re important to me. You matter.” He shook his head, glancing back up at Mateo. “Don’t ask me to be done.”

—

It was all so unexpected, the way Wyatt fought for the man next to him. He'd always been expendable, easily tossed aside if he wasn't any use. On days that he felt too tired to function on the farm, Junior was once again the favorite, or Estela skidded into first, or really any one of the Lara children could steal the spot. It wasn't enough to just be for Mateo or his siblings to be. Work gave him value, and if he couldn't provide that, what use was there for him to be around? What use was there in putting in the effort to love him?

You were born for one thing and if you can't do that, what's the point? You're an asshole and you have no right to be. I gave you this life. I sacrificed to get you here. Where is your effort?

Mateo shut his eyes tightly and clung firmly onto the steering wheel, hoping to hold onto some fragment of composure. Because he never needed anyone to be more than they were. No one ever needed to work for his love. He was dumbfounded to find that someone wanted to provide that for him too. “I…I…” Mateo trailed off with a sniffled, croaking, “I love you the way you are. Don't be done. I need you to not be done.” Keeping his eyes shut, he felt his tears trail down his cheeks, sharp and cold. “It does seem like much to me. It's like…everything to me. You and Xó have been everything to me for a while.”

— “Hey. Hey,” he muttered, leaning over the console between them and reaching for Mateo, one hand landing on his neck while the other turned the mare’s head toward him. “I’m not done. I’m here.” His gaze jumped between Mateo’s eyes, thumb wiping away part of the streak of tears on his face. “I’m here. And I love you the way you are, okay? So cut the crap. Stop tellin’ me you ain’t enough. You are.” Wyatt’s lips were pressed into a thin frown as he struggled to keep his own composure, the emotions from the last couple of days feeling absolutely overwhelming in that moment. “Whoever’s been tellin’ you the opposite is a fuckin’ liar and a moron.” His neck felt hot and his vision seemed oddly blurred, making him blink hard a few times as he looked at Mateo, refusing to move away just yet. “You’re enough, and you’re not gettin’ rid of me so easy,” he reiterated with a shaky voice, nodding definitively. And, as if to seal the affirming statement, Wyatt then leaned even closer, his injuries shouting in protest at the strain from this awkward angle, catching Mateo in a careful kiss.

[faterpresources]

Mʏ Aᴅᴠᴇɴᴛᴜʀᴇs ᴡɪᴛʜ Sᴜᴘᴇʀᴍᴀɴ - Sᴇᴀsᴏɴ 1 Eᴘɪsᴏᴅᴇ 1

A collection of random lines compiled from the first episode of My Adventures with Superman Feel free to change the pronouns in order to better suit the parts involved.

❝ Pew-pew! ❞

❝ You nervous? ❞

❝ I can do this. ❞

❝ It gets better. ❞

❝ Ha! I am pumped. ❞

❝ Time for Plan B. ❞

❝ Goodbye forever. ❞

❝ This is precious. ❞

❝ Don't touch that. ❞

❝ We have no buyer. ❞

❝ We're stuck here. ❞

❝ It's not gorillas. ❞

❝ How am I doing this? ❞

❝ Oh, that's not good. ❞

❝ What are we going to do? ❞

❝ I've already got a lead. ❞

❝ Hi, there. After... you. ❞

❝ Do what I tell you to do. ❞

❝ Hey, you gotta slow down! ❞

❝ No. ___, you're an intern. ❞

❝ Do not crush his/her hand. ❞

❝ These are the new interns. ❞

❝ She/He's gotta be an alien. ❞

❝ I can't believe we're late. ❞

❝ Okay. I think we lost them. ❞

❝ Come on, ___. We're a team. ❞

❝ We're not a team. ❞

❝ What took you so long, ____? ❞

❝ Oh! I can't believe him/her. ❞

❝ Well, I didn't plan for this. ❞

❝ I know what I'm talking about. ❞

❝ You didn't give us the chance. ❞

❝ ___, this is your last chance. ❞

❝ The crew was getting restless. ❞

❝ People need to know about this. ❞

❝ There's a big pothole up there. ❞

❝ No, don't do that to your boss. ❞

❝ See you in there, big guy/girl. ❞

❝ Wait, were they garbage trucks? ❞

❝ Uh, they came from an army base. ❞

❝ It could be the sewer dinosaurs. ❞

❝ We've hit a snag in the operation. ❞

❝ What we need to do is keep moving. ❞

❝ New interns, out. Old intern, stay. ❞

❝ You didn't give us the chance. ❞

❝ Really? He/she seemed pretty upset. ❞

❝ Nah, that's just his/her face. ❞

❝ Our fence wasn't at the drop point. ❞

❝ Fine. I don't need your help anyway. ❞

❝ And then he says I'm the selfish one. ❞

❝ We call ourselves the Newskid Legion. ❞

❝ Why do you think that keeps happening? ❞

❝ Look around. There has to be something. ❞

❝ They're moving the robots to the docks. ❞

❝ And I saw a weird pigeon. It was gross. ❞

❝ Which one of you messed with the robot? ❞

❝ Do what I say and we can still get paid. ❞

❝ Like the fact that aliens walk among us. ❞

❝ Uh, sorry. I'll fix the front door later! ❞

❝ Ready for me to bust the story wide open? ❞

❝ There's only so many places to hide them. ❞

❝ Then what are we waiting around here for? ❞

❝ We don't even know what half this stuff is. ❞

❝ I got him/her fired from his/her dream job. ❞

❝ I can't believe our alarm clock exploded again. ❞

❝ This isn't about the city, ___ , it's about you. ❞

❝ Uh, wait. ___, this is starting to feel dangerous. ❞

❝ You're, like, twice my size. You can definitely... ❞

❝ We don't have to go through the window, or whisper. ❞

❝ Okay, I had to save the cat. I had to save the cat. ❞

❝ PM could be initials, like...Paranormal Meta-sapiens! ❞

❝ Just take a risk. What's the worst that could happen? ❞

❝ The only reason I called you in today was to meet them. ❞

❝ I'll tell our boss all of this the instant we meet him. ❞

❝ So, I'm, uh, just gonna leave before this gets any worse. ❞

❝ You do not report the news. You do not leave this building. ❞

❝ Uh... Well, it's... Today's my first day of work and I'm... ❞

❝ And with my keen eye for observation, huh, I'll get the proof. ❞

❝ This is it. This is the story that'll make you a real reporter. ❞

❝ I'm a normal man/woman/person having a normal day, starting now. ❞

❝ We're meeting my important and very serious journalistic source. ❞

❝ What is wrong with your dumb, beautiful, coward of a best friend?  ❞

❝ Wait, did you say "beautiful"? ❞

❝ It's bad business to hand out freebies. I need something in return. ❞

❝ I mean, yes, I lied.But he/she wouldn't have helped me unless I had. ❞

❝ Aliens, Loch Ness, Bigfoot...that one psychic starfish from Germany. ❞

❝ Your job is to teach the interns how to scan things and make coffee. ❞

❝ For the good of me, you need to stop coming in with these wild ideas. ❞

❝ I trusted you, and you used me and ___ just so you could get your story. ❞

❝ It's the term for the super-intelligent gorillas France has been hiding. ❞

❝ Ooh, and I have the three dozen donutsy ou wanted to eat all ready to go. ❞

❝ We're just two dummies who listened to you because we didn't know any better. ❞

❝ I mean, technically, yes, but you wouldn't have helped me if I told the truth. ❞

❝ Oh, have you considered that these robots might have come from beyond the stars? ❞

❝ I was being selfish, and you just left us. But you came back, and...And I'm sorry. ❞

❝ Why don't we panic real loud in front of the thieves and killers we hired for this job? ❞

❝ Ugh. I know. He/She did lie, but would I have helped him/her if he/she told me the truth? ❞

❝ He/She kept me behind because he/she wants you to help me follow up on my stolen robot story. ❞

❝ Hmm. If I had to transport stolen goods through the city...I'd find a way to do it in plain sight. ❞

❝ And because they see everything during their routes, they always know what's happening in the city. ❞

❝ ____ , we can't just sit in a warehouse full of freaky stolen science weapons till the cops show up. ❞

[autumnwoodsdreamer]

Write a Different Chapter for Us

Chapter Seven: The Distract and Conquer Strategy

.....

Summary: Tony’s not-so-successful meeting with the board

Words: 3391

Rating: Teen

Characters: Tony Stark, Natasha Romanov, Pepper Potts

Relationships: Tony Stark/Natasha Romanov, Tony Stark & Pepper Potts

Tags: established relationship, family, pregnancy, conversations, PTSD, hurt/comfort

Note: Excuse my terrible math. Seven chapters, not six. Sorry. Carry on.

“The stock is going to be a major talking point.”

“Uh-huh.”

New York didn’t feel the same, but Tony couldn’t figure out what had changed.

“And that very public tussle with Whiplash is going to come up. It has a lot of investors nervous. Hence the stock drops.”

“Right. Got it.”

Everything was more or less right the way he had left it. There were some newly bent streetlights and a few obviously filled-in craters littering the sidewalks (apparently the X-Men and the Brotherhood had had another... tiff). But, other than that, it was the same city, teeming with the same hustle and bustle.

“But if we pull their focus to the latest advancements in our medical tech departments, we may be able to keep them happy... or distracted, at the very least.”

“Yeah? Good. That’s good.”

Actually, scratch that. The hustle and bustle was different. The people were... it was summer—summer vacation. There were more families out and about.

“We just have to be careful not to get through the business side of business too soon or we’ll back ourselves into a corner.”

“Of course.”

A young boy sat on his father’s shoulders, clearly thrilled by his new perspective of the world. His mother walked alongside; she looked like she was enjoying the sunny morning and whatever they had planned, but she still kept a careful eye on her son.

“Oh, and Galactus called. He’d like to replace our CFO.”

“Okay.”

Tony didn’t know the family, but he found himself hoping they had a good day, hoping nothing bad happened to them. Bad things happened way too often, especially these days—

He jerked backwards. Blinking rapidly, he pulled his gaze away from the window and rushed to orient himself. Car, backseat, Pepper, board meeting, stocks... Galactus? “Wait, what?”

Her glare, shot sideways, was about as subtle as his spacing out. “Are you with me now?”

He pried his fingers off the door handle, his knuckles aching from the death-grip. “Yeah. Sorry. Just... making sure New York’s still in one piece.”

“It’s all there and I can assure you it will still be there after this meeting.”

“I know.”

“Tony, I really need you to focus on—”

“So. Classic distract and conquer strategy?”

The sharp turn back to the matter at hand did little to convince Pepper he was fully on board, but she didn’t work with him for more than a decade and not learn the meaning of “futile” so she let it go with a terse sigh. “Basically, we just need to show them you aren’t dead and remind them that, even if you were, the company is standing on its own two feet and moving ahead.”

Tony grimaced. “Did the stock really drop that bad?”

She passed him her tablet, dropping it in his lap before he could track the movement. He stamped down the instinct to jolt backwards and forced himself to hold it, forced his focus to hone in on the colourful graphs and charts on the screen, forced himself to ignore the sudden flare of heat in his chest.

“You got attacked by a guy who sliced a garbage truck in half like it was a block of butter and then you made no verifiable appearance for almost a month. Yes, the stock suffered. Haven’t you seen the news?”

“Uh... no. Not really. Been a bit busy... recovering, you know?”

Something adjusted in her expression at that; he never did learn the right word to describe it—he knew it wasn’t quite sympathy, but it wasn’t totally devoid of care, either. With or without a name, he had come to understand it as her way of saying-without-saying: “Your life is ridiculous and I’m surprised you aren’t dead or dismembered yet... but I am glad you’re well.”

“Look,” she said, her critical tone easing, “I’ll run point on this. Just back my play and do what you do best.”

“Put on a show?”

That got a smile. “Yes, but no fireworks.”

“How about sparklers?”

“Nothing flammable.”

“Buzz-kill.”

“Fine. You can have glow-sticks.”

“Thanks, boss.”

. . . . .

Business mode took over, enabling Tony to project his most presentable version of himself: not dead, not in pain, totally on the ball and not thinking about anything that didn’t pertain to the company and its interests.

He sold the image well—Obadiah used to say he could sell water to a drowning man—but that was all it was: an image, i.e. no substance.

The pretty picture started fading as the meeting ran overtime. It was just a few small things: he couldn’t quite sit up straight, his replies came short and clipped, and he was just too aware of the knot of his tie touching his throat.

No one noticed; no one that wasn’t Pepper, anyway.

From all the way on the other side of the room, she caught him sliding two fingers between his tie and collar, not-so-subtly trying to tug it loose. She gave him a look; not exactly the glare he earned earlier in the car, but it was nearly there.

He corrected the action, turning it into a subconscious attire assessment. It couldn’t fool her but it didn’t have to.

They only just reached the finance affairs as the clock struck noon. Tony excused himself to the bathroom; he didn’t have to, but he mentioned the curry—it bought a few knowing chuckles and an eye-roll from Pepper which was always worth it.

After washing up, he didn’t hurry to return. He pulled out his phone and commandeered a spot on the floor near the sinks—Stark Tower’s restrooms were cleaner than operating theatres and his germophobia came and went as it pleased, so as long as he didn’t think about it, he was okay.

He wasn’t surprised to see no messages waiting for him; Pepper used to insist he keep his personal phone off while handling SI business but Iron Man, SHIELD liaising, and then the Avengers corroded that rule—now she just asked he keep it on silent.

No messages didn’t necessarily mean no problems. A tight, invisible band remained fixed around his chest as he typed and sent off a simple “Everything alright?” message.

Natasha replied within seconds. “All fine.”

Tony told himself he had to believe that. “Might be home an hour late,” he told her.

She sent a low resolution picture of a kitten with big, sad eyes.

He huffed a laugh, the small sound echoing in the confined space. The fact he married the World’s Most Dangerous Women never for a moment escaped him, but it certainly made her brand of texting that much more amusing.

“Want me to get you anything?”

“No. Had lunch ;)”

“Ok. Stay safe. Love you.”

He signed off with a heart emoji because that was another thing he did now (Peter once told him it was inaccurate and he should use the blue circle instead).

He checked the news, then checked his message bank again. No calls to assemble, no giant robots attacking the city, no aliens threatening invasion. He checked the time, reminded himself he had to get back. He checked the weather... and then the news again, just to be sure.

Nothing was happening in the world—nothing he could fix, anyway. It should’ve been a relief, but it wasn’t.

Giving the phone a rest, he shut his eyes and tilted his head back against the cold, tiled wall. Silence asserted itself, but between the constant ringing in his ears and the white noise of his thoughts, he hardly noticed.

Hiding in the bathroom wasn’t exactly professional; he knew he should pick himself up off the floor, get back, and give this his best, as was expected... but motivation eluded him.

In a bid to compromise, he allotted five minutes of peace and sternly told himself he couldn’t have more than that. When his five minutes were up, he got to his feet and headed out before he could argue.

Somewhere along the way back to the conference room, he decided to ditch the tie altogether, rolling it up and stowing it in his pocket.

The mood had shifted in his absence; judging by the stiff set of Pepper’s shoulders, it wasn’t good...

. . . . .

It was close to two in the afternoon by the time Tony got back to the Compound.

Sam, testing his new wings by flying circuits overhead, saw him arrive and waved from the sky; Tony responded with a mock salute.

On his way to the residential block, he caught sight of Steve and Daisy jogging around the lake; they were far enough away that he couldn’t exactly hear what they were saying to each other, but he still heard Daisy’s laugh—full and bright and real.

Beyond them, he just managed to glimpse some coloured blurs zipping about amongst the trees bordering the far side of the lake. Red and blue, white and black and teal, and—only now and then—a black and red blur: Peter, Gwen, and Miles. They liked to call their races and convoluted games of tag “training” in the hopes of appearing serious; Tony really didn’t care what they called it, he was just glad they were all enjoying their summer vacation.

Tracing his way through the lobby, heading for the elevator, a thought occurred to him: if someone had told him just six years ago that this was where Iron Man would take him, that he’d make a home filled with such crazy, colourful, incredible people, he wouldn’t have imagined anything like this; here on the other side of it, he couldn’t believe his life had once been so bland.

He wasn’t holding himself so stiffly when he finally reached his apartment, but hours of playing businessman had strained his still healing muscles. A dull but deep ache radiated from his core and seemed to settle in his bones; with effort, he could continue ignoring it, but experience warned him it would be worse the next day.

It didn’t escape Natasha’s trained sight. The second he walked in, her head snapped up and her gaze flicked from the hefty folder in her lap to him. After just a mere glimpse, her lips quirked and “I told you so” lit up in brilliant neon in her eyes.

He pointed an exaggeratedly stern finger at her. “Don’t say it!”

She tilted her head and batted her eyelashes. “Okay. Then you say it.”

“No.”

“Then I’m gonna say it.”

“Don’t you d—”

“You should’ve worn the brace.”

He rolled his eyes but a smile ruined the effect. “For the record, you didn’t tell me to wear it today.”

She shrugged and returned her attention to... whatever she was doing. “I’ve said it like a million times already; just pull up a memory and stamp today’s date on it.”

“Nag.”

“You love me.”

“Yeah. I do.” He kicked off his shoes and draped his wrinkled suit jacket over the arm of the couch.

Without looking, Natasha gathered some of the papers splayed out on the couch cushions and patted the now free space.

Tony accepted the invitation, collapsing bonelessly beside her. He took advantage of the respite and tried to relax; he didn’t mean for his eyes to slip closed, but he really wasn’t up to fighting it.

As nice as it was to be back in his own space, with Natasha safe and sound beside him, he got the sense this day wasn’t over just yet. “I’m a little scared to ask: but what is all...” he gestured halfheartedly, his hand hardly rising off the couch, “this?”

“Our next mission. Fury dropped it off just after you left this morning.” She nudged him softly in the side with her elbow before sliding the folder from her lap to his.

With a frown, Tony opened his eyes. “Natasha, I don’t know if you should—“

“I told him.”

“Oh.” He blinked and smoothed out the frown; it came back half-strength. “And... what did he say?”

“That he’ll take care of the heavy lifting.” She tapped the folder. “This looks like it’s more about research and connect-the-dots than chasing bad guys anyway.”

“Yeah, they always start that way.” Reluctantly, he pulled himself out of his slouch and began flipping through the papers. Reports, he supposed; he wasn’t making himself read anything. The thick blocks of words upon words soon gave way to photographs and he slowed down—maybe he could piece it together with just pictures for now.

The first few didn’t immediately connect to any relevant information: shards of metal, charred and jagged; bits of broken glass scattered over asphalt; cars with gashes and slashes and crumpled hoods.

Everything rushed into focus when he came to a photograph of a long, coiled tail of razors—segmented for flexibility and serrated for brutality.

“This is about Whiplash,” he said, his voice somehow quieter than he meant it to be.

“Fury’s been looking into it. He doesn’t think the Maggia was involved.”

“Okay... so who is?”

“He doesn’t know. Our best lead right now is whoever supplied Scarlotti’s new tech.” Natasha picked out a leaf of papers from the spread by her hip. “Here,” she said as she placed it in his grasp, covering the photographs. “This is the report from SHIELD’s engineers. They’ve been examining it and this is what they have so far.”

“I didn’t know he left anything behind.”

“Well, I doubt he meant to; he was just in a hurry to get away.”

“Yeah, Hulk has that effect on people.”

Tony skimmed through the specs, curiosity buying his concentration. With just a glance, he could tell it wasn’t AIM’s handiwork, as he (and everyone else) had initially assumed. The design wasn’t simple, but it was straightforward, not encumbered with all the unnecessary frills AIM loved to add just because they could.

Also, it relied more on hardware than software. It was designed to shred and tear and slash, to make a mess: AIM liked weapons of devastion, such as blasters and bombs, but they thought too highly of their technological prowess to resort to tricking out medieval torture implements.

He scoured the information, the mechanic in him taking over, dismantling and reconstructing, fitting all the bits into place, seeing all the ways to improve it. Some parts struck him as just too familiar, stoking a weatherbeaten sense of indignation as he recognized components of his own invention mingled in with the otherwise unique design.

The report ended too quickly. Turning the last page, expecting to find more, the photograph of the whip lying inert on the road caught him off guard.

Huh.

He hadn’t noticed all that blood before... Was it all his? Had to be. Must’ve been from when it—

He closed the folder; he did it too fast and some papers folded funny and others just fell out altogether. “I’d like to have a look at the tech myself,” he said.

Natasha hummed. “I thought you might.”

“SHIELD engineers are good but... there’s, um... there’s things that they... they miss things.”

“Yeah, I know.” With the grace of her namesake, she moved the folder off his lap and placed it on the coffee table. With slow, purposeful movements, she tended to the papers, neatening and straightening, replacing and reordering, clearing the couch and the table. “How’s Pepper?” she asked, her tone light, even, steadying.

Tony rubbed at his eyes, tried to shift gears and follow along. “She’s... she’s good.”

“And Happy? Still enjoying the security business?”

He attempted a laugh; it sounded strangled. “Must be. HR is flooded with complaints. I didn’t see him today, though.”

“Too busy?”

“No. Pepper said he had a cold.”

“Again?”

“I think he’s just allergic to Socrates.”

He knew what she was doing. It was a trick, in the same way saving someone from drowning by luring them back to land after they’ve unwittingly drifted too far out to sea is a trick. It worked: he was back in the shallows. He wasn’t on the shore yet but at least he could stand.

He appreciated the distract and conquer strategy—really, he did—but...

Leaning forward, he got the weight off his chest so he could take a full breath. He held it, counted, then let it go in a sigh. “I’m sorry, Tasha, it’s just...”

“It’s alright. It’s always a little bumpy getting back into things.”

“But it shouldn’t be. I should be better than this.”

She moved. He braced, expecting a hand on his back or shoulder, but none came; instead, she uncrossed her legs and tucked them underneath her, moving so as to press up against his side. “It came up in the meeting today, didn’t it?” she ventured.

He nodded.

“Let me guess: the stocks dipped.”

“A bit, but the board was more concerned with...” He gestured, stiffly, aimlessly, but it didn’t help him find the words.

“With... how it looked?” Natasha supplied.

An empty laugh slipped out; he instantly wished he could take it back. “You know, it’s funny: when Iron Man takes on alien invasions or monsters that popped right out of fairytales, he looks like a hero; but when he gets into a wrestling match with a mobster who leaves him looking like a soda can someone stepped on, he’s just... reckless.”

In all fairness, it wasn’t an unanimous view; most of the directors and shareholders either liked Iron Man or were indifferent to Tony’s extracurricular activities, comfortable to let him do whatever he wanted so long as he kept it separate from the company. But there were others: ones who didn’t hate Iron Man, per se, but weren’t exactly thrilled with his existence.

Keith Laurel, one of the few board members who had worked with both Howard and Obadiah, had been the most vocal today. “We’re a multi-national tech conglomerate on the forefront of innovation, and we’re picking street fights with a local crime family now? Do you have any idea how that looks?”

Tony had had to physically bite his tongue at that remark. For one thing, calling the Maggia a local crime family was tantamount to calling McDonald’s a family-run diner. And while he couldn’t figure out what he’d done recently to tick them off, he definitely didn’t go and pick that fight.

Pepper had stepped in then and pointed out that Iron Man’s activities didn’t necessarily reflect on Stark Industries because, technically, he didn’t work for them. She addressed it, then, in the very next breath, directed attention to the medical labs in South America and their recent breakthroughs in prosthetic limbs, but Laurel wasn’t having it.

He had fixed his gaze on Tony. “You’re not CEO anymore. That’s a fact. But you still own this company—the company your father left you. The things you do affect his legacy. What would he think?”

It wasn’t a new sentiment. If he had a dollar for every time someone played the “What would your father say?” card on him, his fortune would double. He had heard it so many times throughout his life, parroted and reiterated to the point that, honestly, he’d grown numb to it.

None of it was new: stock drops, unhappy board members, legacies upheld or profaned, attacks on Iron Man, attacks on Tony Stark—he was used to it.

He was used to it, but this time... it didn’t feel the same.

“You aren’t reckless,” Natasha said, cutting through the storm brewing in his head. “I didn’t marry a reckless man, and I swear I would never have a child with one.”

Tony scoffed before he could censor himself. “I didn’t get attacked for no reason. I must’ve done something, I just... I can’t figure it out.”

She brought her hand into his field of vision before touching his chin and coaxing him to turn his head and look at her; the intensity in her eyes was strangely calming. “I don’t know why Whiplash attacked you, but I know you didn’t invite it.”

When her gaze became too much, he closed his eyes, but he didn’t pull away. He bowed his head so that his forehead met hers. It hurt, twisting and leaning to the side like that, but he didn’t care. “I’ll fix this, I promise.”

Her hand moved to cup the back of his head, anchoring him. “We’ll fix it together.”

. . . . .

<<< Previous Chapter

🍁 Thanks for reading! 🍁

[theoddcatlady]

I was hired to transport an exotic pet to its buyer

“Come on, man, it’s an easy three grand. We just gotta drive through the night.”

I stared at Tucker, my best and stupidest friend. “And it’s not drugs? We aren’t transporting coke or something?” I asked.

“No, dude, it’s not illegal,” He rolled his eyes, “and it’s not drugs or people. I asked.”

I chewed on my inner lip as I considered the drawbacks to joining Tucker on another of his poor life decisions. “What is it then?” I asked.

Tucker shrugged. “All the guy said was come by tonight with a friend.”

God, this was a mistake. I even knew at the time it was a mistake. But I was out of work, like a lot of other people right now. I just needed a little money to hold me over until I could get another job.

So two weeks ago, I went with Tucker to meet with a Mr. Ezra Mack.   

Ezra is a portly, short dude with an oversized mustached and droopy eyes. We met with him at a vacant lot just outside of town where the summer fair usually set up, of course, that wasn’t really a thing this year so it was just an empty field with a few pieces of garbage fluttering about. After giving me a once over, Ezra just nodded and said, “You’ll do. Come on, boys.”

We followed Ezra to the other side of the lot, where a U-Haul truck quietly idled away. “Get this to the customer by mornin’, I’ll have three thousand for the each of you, and probably a few more jobs waiting.”

I glanced at Tucker, who was clearly just seeing dollar signs, but I was a little more skeptical. “What’s in it?” I asked.

Ezra chuckled before gesturing forward. “Take a peek son, just keep your distance,” He said.  

Somewhat relieved that he didn’t seem all that concerned by me seeing what was inside, I went up to the truck and opened up the back.  

All I could make out in the darkness was a cage. Then I saw a pair of eyes looking back and I heard a beastly snarl.

I yelped and fell back on my ass. Ezra laughed it up some more and he shut the door before I could get a better look. “Exotic pets, people pay an arm and a leg for somethin’ that can gobble them and their kids up,” He said.

“Is it a tiger?” Now Tucker looked disappointed he didn’t get a better look.

“Sure, if that makes you feel better.” Ezra helped me back to my feet and patted my shoulder. “Clock’s tickin’, so get a move on. I suggest you don’t think too hard about it and don’t take too many stops until you reach the customer. And stay out of the fuckin’ back. He’s caged for now, but I don’t want either of you pissin’ him off, I’m not payin’ for your hospital bill.”  

I nodded. I didn’t need to be told twice. You know, I was actually relieved it was ‘just’ a tiger, considering the other less favorable options like drug or human trafficking.

After Tucker and I played a round of rock paper scissors, it turned out I was going to be driving for the first leg. We only stopped for a bit to get a six pack of Pepsi and a few bags of Lay Chips before we were on the road.

“So how big was it?” Tucker asked after we really got going.

“I couldn’t see, probably huge. Hope it’s not a man eater,” I joked.  

Tucker elbowed me before he began tossing potato chips in his mouth. “Tigers were always my favorite as a kid,” He said between crunches. “But I don’t think they make good pets.”

“It’s legal in this state… I think. It’s like Tiger King.” 

“Have you even fucking seen that show yet?”

“My ex changed the Netflix pass before I could.”  

Tucker began to loudly cackle before an exceptionally loud snarl jerked us both back into reality- even if it was in a cage, there was a very dangerous animal in the back of our truck, only the bars of its cage and the thin siding of the truck keeping it from ripping our heads off if it so pleased. Tucker laughed nervously before stuffing more chips in his mouth.

I don’t really mind driving, not even at night. It’s kinda relaxing, usually the roads are pretty empty and I can just daydream away. Of course, usually I don’t have to hear quiet growling coming behind me every few minutes. It wasn’t constant, just every now and then I’d start to relax and then I’d hear the growling. Definitely kept me on alert.

Honestly, if we hadn’t gotten pulled over, we would’ve made it to the customer with no problems and I never would’ve thought twice about it.

But when I saw those red and blue lights in my side view mirror, my stomach practically dropped into my feet. Tucker had been pretty chipper until that point as well, I swear his dark face went a few shades paler as I pulled over. “What do we do?” He asked.

“Bullshit him until he leaves us the fuck alone,” I hissed back.  

The cop strode up to the truck a minute or so later, flashing his light in. I could tell off the bat this was not going to be pleasant. I won’t pretend that I know every cop in the world, but every cop I’ve met has been an insufferable jackass. Especially when they think I’m up to something, which other than that night, I really haven’t ever been.  

“License and registration, please,” He said.  

I just reminded myself he had a gun before I got my license. “Not my truck, officer, I’m doing a favor for a friend,” I said.  

“What kind of favor?” He eyed the truck.

“Moving things. We’ve been driving for like five hours already,” I said.  

The cop ‘humphed’ before glancing at my license. I prayed for it to be over.

But of course, the tiger chose that moment to start kicking up a ruckus.  

I cringed as I heard the growling and snarling kick up full force, and I knew I heard Tucker face palm.

The cop scowled before handing me back the license. “Stay there,” He ordered before he strode to the back of the truck. I didn’t bother with the ‘But you need a warrant’ bit, I knew I was screwed. My lack of knowledge about exotic pets was now coming to bite me in the ass. It probably was illegal to keep tigers in my state and I just didn’t know.  

Cop threw open the back door. There was a beat of silence. Then a ‘What the-’. Then a crash and a scream of terror.

Didn’t matter if the guy was a jerk, I immediately leaped out of the truck to go rescue him, Tucker hot on my heels. I skidded to a stop in the back of the truck, flicked on my phone’s light, and pointed it into the truck, seeing that the bars had been ripped apart like cardboard before I focused on the ‘pet’.

… Yeah, no, that definitely wasn’t a tiger.  

The humanoid creature back there was nearly big enough to reach the ceiling, his antlers made it the rest of the way. He had the cop crushed between his clawed hands, the man’s face white with shock before the creature opened its mouth and smashed down on his skull.  

Blood and gore sprayed out from what remained of the cop’s head and Tucker did the smart thing by slamming the door shut.  

We both bolted for the front of the truck, before I made it I ended up spewing out my stomach contents all over the ground. With trembling legs I climbed back into the truck, where Tucker was in the middle of a panic attack.

“What… the fuck… was that?” Tucker managed to get out as he hyperventilated.  

I shook my head, wiping a bit of puke off my lips. I now missed the growling, now replaced by crunching and a wet tearing. I glanced at the GPS, we had an hour to go.

Mechanically, I put the truck in gear and began driving off, ignoring Tucker asking what the fuck we were doing. In truth, I’m not sure what I was thinking. All I could think was ‘get this fucker to our destination and get the hell out of here’.  

The chewing became white noise, my focus mostly on the road in front of us. Our destination was thankfully tucked way back in the woods, no more interstate for us, but what was worse was when the horrifying mastication of the body finally drew to a close.

The chewing was replaced by a sound that made the hair on my neck stand on end.

Whispering. From the back of the truck I swear to god I heard whispering.  

I craned my ears in an attempt to make out any distinct words, but it was too muffled for me to make out any clear words. Tucker began reciting the Lord’s Prayer, whimpering in between each breath. I just gripped that steering wheel even tighter and watched the minutes tick down slowly on the GPS.

The house we pulled up to was pretty nice, it wasn’t like a woodland mansion or anything but I certainly couldn’t afford it. Tucker bailed from the truck before I even came to a full stop, and I wasn’t far behind him.  

I sped walk to the front door and didn’t even knock before the customer opened up.  

He looked so normal, man. Like the average dude you’d pass on the sidewalk and promptly forget in two seconds. Not like a person who was buying monsters. But he glanced back at the truck and his eyes just lit up. “Is he here?” He asked.

“Yeah,” I wiped the sweat off my forehead, “The cage is broken though. And it ate someone.”  

The man sighed and somehow had the nerve to look relieved. “Well, if he’d fed, that’ll actually make things easier. His hunger will be sated for the moment. Come on in, put your feet up for a bit. We can handle it from here,” He said.  

Tucker and I waited in the man’s kitchen, sipping flat Pepsi and doing our best not to look out the window where the man and a few other people were getting that thing out of the back of the truck. The man came in about half an hour later, told us they sprayed out the inside of the truck, handed us a few wadded up hundred dollar bills for a tip (“since you arrived almost an hour before the estimated time”, he said), and we went home.  

It was quiet in the cab on the way back. Unnervingly quiet. Tucker wasn’t cracking jokes, we kept the radio off, and we did our best not to stare at the abandoned cop car by the side of the road as we passed on by.

No one’s ever questioned us about the missing cop, even when we told Ezra what happened he seemed unbothered. He was more pissed about the cage being broken, saying his boss was going to be ticked to learn that this new cage didn’t hold up to snuff. We got paid, I went home, and I did my best to wipe the night’s events from my mind.

I hoped it would never come back to bite me either. But of course, I was wrong.

Yesterday I went grocery shopping and came home to Tucker twiddling his thumbs and a woman wearing a flannel shirt with the sleeves pushed up, revealing a nasty scar on her forearm that looked like a bite mark.

“You’re Killion?” She asked. Still too flabbergasted about there being a stranger in my living room, I just nodded. “Good. Tucker here told me how well you handled yourself with the last delivery.”  

She placed a check on my coffee table.

“I’m Beth, Ezra’s boss. I’m here offering you full time work. I promise, they won’t all be nearly as rough as that first one.”

… Like I said, I was out of a job.

[magpiepills]

Ok I'm game! Tell me about ho-ing around your errand spots. Post office guy? 😏 Kroger gal and bank girl? 😺 And LITERAL HELICOPTER PILOT?? 👀

Friend!! Ok, you have got to hear about this pilot.

So last weekend I was at this community event for kids where they can climb all over emergency vehicles- fire trucks, swat trucks, ambulances, garbage trucks, so on. I was there with my niece and nephew. Anyway, one of the things the kids could check out was a helicopter. I have been RUINED by Frankie Morales and I have a certain Pavlovian response to helicopters now so I was more than happy to wait in line to get a look inside a helicopter. I figured I could at least be delusional for a minute and that would be the end of it. HOW WRONG I WAS!!

The helicopter was an air ambulance and the pilot was a medic. He was kinda short but he had on a cap, aviators, had a scruffy greying beard, and his suit was unzipped and his chest hair was chest hairing. It was glorious. He had the sleeves rolled up and tattoos on his forearms. I flirted as best I could. It was a crowded area so I didn’t have the time to really lay it on like I like to do, but it made my week anyway.

My post office guy is an older Latino with a cute accent and a steady government job and a union. I love union men. The last time I saw him he remembered me from a month ago. He was flirty. I need to find more excuses to mail things.

My Kroger girl wasn’t my type but she would flirt back with me when I flirted with her. Good times, but now she’s gone and that’s honestly fine with me.

My bank girl was probably too young for me but she was so pretty! Wherever she went, I’m certain she’s looking gorgeous. I didn’t flirt with her much because I couldn’t tell if she was into women, and above all I try to be a respectful trollop.