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nysrage · 2 months

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Rollin’ To Love, Onyankapon.

synopsis: you and your friends scheduled a girls night at cascade for valentines & love seemed to roll your way.

content: romance, fluff, hard to get reader, & barely suggestive themes.

ny’s notes: so while taking a short break to reflect & improve my writing i came up with this new au inspired by @kaegetsmewetter. i advise listening to the songs i linked during their little moment to really immerse yourselves & hope you enjoy! happy love day babies! 🏹🩷

“I-I’m going to fall!”

You didn’t think your valentine’s would be going this way but it was debatable that it was better than how you’d normally spend it. This same recycled day had been the same for as long as you could remember. Just you alone in your room eating ice cream and watching your favorite movie— love jones. The few romances you had never made it past this societies ‘talking stage’ or either ended up as one of those emotionally draining situationships. It was as if love and romance never truly worked for you and only brought trouble.

Slowly you’d come to accept it, until there was a ring of your doorbell. Opening the door to your friends holding balloons, roses and some valentines cookies, “HAPPY VALENTINES BOO!” brushing past you and welcoming themselves into your home. The sight putting a smile on your face, it’d been so long that someone had done something so special for you beside your parents. “Awe y’all really didn’t have to do this..” engulfing them into a group hug and holding them tight, grateful for such attentive friends.

“Girl you deserve to feel loved on this special day too! That’s why we decided to spend the night with you.” kyndall reassured, popping one of the pink candies in her mouth.

“So go get dressed loser, we’re going to cascade!” Dallas giggled, pushing you towards your room. Whirling around in her hold with a questioning brow. “Really cascade..?”

“What.? I’m tired of the club scene and we could use some good fun like when we were teens!” Dallas shrugged, with that soft glint of excitement in her eyes. “C’mon it’ll be fun..” kyndall coaxed, fluttering those volume lashes until you gave in. surrendering your hands in the air and walking towards your room.

“Okay, okay! No promises i’m getting in that rink tho!”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Oh my god, i’m never letting yall convince me into coming here againn!” you whined, gripping onto your bestfriend’s jacket for dear life. Legs wobbling from the rolling skates gliding across the smooth floor not seeking to stop anytime soon, especially not with the crowd of people blocking your way to get to that safety wall you could hold onto.

Saturdays were still apparently the hottest for cascade, everyone seeking for fun outlet for the night. The flashing multicolored lights dancing around the walls and floors, as you and your friends entered. A upbeat set of early 2000’s song blasting over the speakers, as you waited in line to secure a pair of skates. “girl, girl girl. the niggas is out, look!” her constant tapping in of your arm made you finally look up. the group of skaters in particular that caught kyndall’s eye, vibing along to ray j’s ‘sex can i’ with their routines. the front two standing out from the rest, one with a colored buzz cut and street wear fashion. The other a fine chocolate man with a white fitted polo tee that hugged his slim-muscular build, and head full of soft deep waves. Beautiful smile still white and flashing even beneath the hues that illuminated the floor.

“Yeah, we got to get to that floor. Now.” kyndall swooned, grabbing her skates and footing towards the nearest bench to get them on.

“Damn bitch. wait for us!” Dallas laughed, the two of you following behind your eager friend.

Leading you right to this moment, settled into an uneasy stance and terrified of the little control you had over your legs right now. Skates clunking against one another as you tried your best to glide smoothly across the floor. “you got it, glide one foot after the other..” Dallas instructed, but it just seemed as if your uncoordinated body just couldn’t get with it. Wobbling above the laminated floor. Hands wrapped tightly around hers as a effort to keep yourself steady and upright, praying that you wouldn’t eat up the floor.

“Okay, m’gonna let go.” Dallas nodded, eyes on yours as she slowly released your hand. “Don’t overthink it boo.” Your body wobbling a little before it steadied as you continued to roll slowly. “I-I think i got it..” you breathed out, hand cautiously out in front of you.

“Think you’ll be good while i take a few quick laps?” She questioned and you nodded, waving her off trying to concentrate on keeping yourself steady. Counting your steps to yourself as you try not to fall on your ass in front of the big ass crowd of people. Smiling to yourself at the slightest improvement and increase in speed until another skater brushed past you, bumping into your side with a scoff. “Girl move your non-skating ass out the rink, tryna be seen n’ shit..”

Tripping over your skates and stumbling forward when suddenly a quick hand caught your arm. One strong hand resting on your waist and steadying your body before your feet could’ve swept up off the ground. “woah, you good ma?” A shaky breath left your lips as you brush your crimped hair from out of your face, “Yea, i-i’m just gonna—” refusing to look up, rolling away with a face full of embarrassment. Strong hand still holding onto your arm until you sat firmly along the bench. “Don’t trip, it’s a lot of people showing out for the crowd.”

“Slow sets the best to roll to.”

If it was even possible you became more embarrassed once your eyes met the person talking to you, The man being one of the smooth skaters that led one of the groups from earlier. Now that he was up close you could take him in fully, from his perfectly sculpted jawline to his tattoo covered arms. Those pearly white canines covered with custom open faced grills on display as he expressed his love for slow sets. barely even realizing you’d been staring awkwardly as you looked him over, but he paid it no mind just properly introducing himself to you. “Shit my bad I’m onyankapon, most just call me ony tho.”

“y/n.” briefly introducing yourself, “i can’t see how y’all do all this without falling on your ass..” you huffed, frustrated from the short time you spent out in the rink.

Ony laughed at your cute little pout, taking a seat next to you. He couldn’t lie you caught his eyes from the moment he saw you. Pretty skin glowing beneath the illuminated lights as you cautiously rolled within the crowd of people, lip tucked behind your pretty teeth with focus in your eyes. “Been doing this since grade school, plenty of practice.”

“but you just feel and move with the beat” he further explained, pointing out the many people that demonstrated his words. “Don’t think just let your body do all the work and it’ll come to you..”

The dj mixed into a slow set, the lights dimming into soft romantic hues as the ‘unthinkable’ remix by alicia keys and drake began blasting through the speakers. Mood quickly setting in as the skaters eased into the tempo, dj extending the intro as he shares his quick sentiment over the mic. “This for all my single people that hadn’t quite found that one, or even haven’t found the right words to say your ready for more. but ima help you get to ‘em tonight!”

Unbeknownst it was a song the both of you found yourselves listening to quite often these days. Not knowing when that right person would come into your life and changing that lonely destiny you found yourself believing more and more. Mindlessly swaying to the beat, ony gave you a quick glance before standing with his hand held out for you. Your eyes widening in panic when he suddenly ask you to skate with him but he wouldn’t take no for an answer, not when this had been that meant to be feeling this exact song had spoken of. Not waiting for him to finally get his one on one time with you eventually while he was in his element, and if he had to take the lead then he’d do exactly that.

“oh, no, no, no.” reaching back for a seat that was no longer in your grasp, ony shooting that same charming smile that caught your sights earlier as he pulled you onto the floor against your will. “i got you pretty, you trust me..?”

A small look of uncertainty occupying your face as you look over the crowd of skaters that vanished as you look back into his sincere eyes, giving in and uneasily skating forward to get closer to his towering form. Ony met you halfway and suavely spun your body into his, arms snaking around your waist as you took a slow unsteady breath as his hands rest just above your inner thighs. Heart thumping wildly in your chest as your body grows warm from those minuscule touches. Mind filled with nothing but him in that moment, that intoxicating jimmy choo cologne took over your senses as his protective arms tightened around you. Body turning to putty as you practically melting into his arms, nothing but a soft whisper leaving your lips.

“ony..”

“just focus on me…” warm breath fanning against your skin as his lip brushed the shell of your ear, keeping you pressed flush against him. Helping guide your movement to the slow rhythmic beat of the song, your small soft hands resting atop of his comfortably. Body submissively relaxing into his as you following his lead, swaying in sync as the two of you lose yourselves in a sensual stroll “there you go, feel the beat.” tapping softly to the beat against your thigh.

Maintaining a steady speed as if there were no one else in the building but the two of you. Strolling together for the rest of the night until the dj came to a satisfied close, happy with the outcome his slow sensual set had for the day of love. The two of you walking out the building together as the muffled music leaking through the doors. “Thank you for tonight.” you smiled, nervously pushing a loose crimp behind your ear. “Your a really good instructor.”

“Well I had a good partner.” he chuckled, that charm of his now in full swing “If you ever wanted to learn some more moves, I could give you my number..”

“Maybe even make into a little weekly date.”

“Maybe..” you hummed, looking him over as you backed away towards your friends. “same day and time next week?”

“bet, I never got your number tho.” reaching for his phone, as you giggled in the distance. Testing his patience on how much time and effort he’d really put into getting to know you, Opening the passenger door with a small smirk. “I know, see you next week ony..”

Leaving ony nothing but the memory of you and a mental note to be here waiting for you the next week.

#nysrage works ✭#black writers #onyankopon x reader #rollerskater!ony au #ony #aot onyankopon #aot x black!reader #aot x chubby reader #onyankapon #aot onyankopon x black y/n #aot onyankopon x black!reader #onyankopon x chubby reader #onyankopon x black y/n #onyankopon x black!reader #onyankopon x black reader smut #onyankopon smut #onyankopon x black reader #onyankopon #ony x black reader

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wyniepooh · 1 year

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Want

stuck in a dark, crowded bar, stuck against aaron hotchner. you want him to give in, he just wants you.

oh my GOD EXTREME tension. in fact the only plot point can be summed up in one word: TENSION. mentions of alcohol and tipsiness. bau!reader struggling with a particular case, hotch comforts… and does a little more 😊

the music was blaring entirely too loud.

your second drink was starting to become watered down as the light buzz you craved swarmed your head from your first. when you touched the cold glass, water wet your warm fingertips. a strong breeze enabled you to shiver and look towards the entrance, where a large group of young college students swarmed into the already stuffed and cramped room.

your ears had began to ring, and the flickering lights were making your eyes heavy with pain. you thought about walking out, getting some night air, and feeling the moonlight shine on your face. but when you finally decided to try and get up, there was barely any space left for you to even lift your arms up. you sighed, sitting back down on the beat up stool, elbows resting on the bar table.

“you okay?” the familiarly deep voice asked. you turned your head to reveal aaron behind you, still wearing what he had on this morning in the bau headquarters— his usual, perfectly tight suit with a scarily neat tie. the only noticeable difference in his appearance was that his usually gelled hair was, god forbid, messy. a couple stands of dark hair fell in front of his forehead.

you flashed him a brief smile, “yeah, fine.” you fiddled with the flashy umbrella toothpick in your glass.

he raised his brows, saying nothing because he knew the look in his eyes said it all. he knew how you really felt, but he also knew you would never admit you were anything but fine.

“still thinking about the case, aren’t you?”

you scoffed, “how could i not?” as you took another sip of your drink, images of the various children that were rescued from an abandoned truck flashed through your mind. they were alive, yes. but how could they possibly live life like they used to before? do they even remember what it was like? the sound of a screaming girl filled your brain.

you ran both your hands through your hair, letting out a loud sigh. “god, i hate when kids are involved.”

“i know. me too.”

“they just..” you gulped back a stone in your throat, “they’re so innocent. or, they were once. but now… it’s all gone. i hate that they won’t ever chase butterflies or play in the sand box again, or play in the snow or get ice cream on the beach. all those memories are ruined for them now.”

aaron let out a sigh. a beat passed, and you knew he was thinking of what to say. after a moment, the silence was interrupted by his hushed voice. “agent. they may not have their childhood anymore, but they’ll continue to have their teenagehood, their adulthood, maybe their motherhood or fatherhood. and it’s all because of the work you’ve done. the work we’ve all done. focus on the good. instead of thinking about what they were, think about what they will be.”

you lowered your head slightly, your hair falling to cover you face. you smiled to yourself over his words. fuck, he always knew what to say. why did he always have to know what to say?

a comfortable silence fell upon the two of you as he settled on the stool beside you. he declined the bartender for a drink with a firm extend of his hand, turning his whole body towards you instead. you opened your mouth, then closed it. you wanted to thank him, or at least say something. but no words could be heard coming from your mouth.

aaron, as usual, noticed your discomfort. he tilted his head towards the door with a soft grin and said,

“let’s get out of here.”

you chuckled gratefully, nodding and pushing back your stool to allow yourself to try and get up once again. but before you could turn around, a sudden push pressed your stomach harshly against the bar table.

you exclaimed quietly before looking back at the crowd and rolling your eyes as a sigh came over you. you were completely trapped between the bar table and a group of drunk, dancing, college guys singing annoyingly off-key. seeing your position, hotch comes over and wedges himself between you and a drunk guy who was letting his hands fall a little too close to your tight jeans.

with his chest to your back, he rested a light hand on your arm, leaning down to whisper, “are you okay?”

your face flushed at the close proximity, his hand placement, and the way his words tingled your ears. you were suddenly thankful the room was so dark and swarming with strobe lights, as it was hopefully concealing your ragged breaths and red cheeks. you cleared your throat before responding.

“yeah, fine. just…” you wiggled and attempted to turn, “…totally stuck,” you chuckled.

another push came from behind, both his arms coming down to grip the bar table in front of you.

“just stay like this for a while. we’ll sneak out once this song ends and they stop singing like maniacs and spread out a little more.”

you nodded in response, your head down in embarrassment as you notice just how tight you two are pressed together, and how big his hands look resting on the table compared to yours. people on the dance floor began to move to the beat of the music, the waves of pushes like currents in the sea during a stormy night. another push. and another. one after the other.

whenever you turned your head or adjusted your position, you felt a rush of warm air kiss your ears, making your arms feel like jelly. you were glad the stool aided you in holding you up, as clearly, your arms couldn’t do the job any longer.

it certainly wasn’t the first time you’ve felt so nervous and electrified around aaron, but each time you did, you manage to surprise yourself with just how tender you get.

ever since you walked into the bau building, you knew you were screwed. just up laying eyes on aaron hotchner, you knew your days would suddenly start to feel longer. aaron with his neatly ironed suits, aaron with his gucci ties. aaron with his soothing, dark, voice, neat hair, and clean cologne. aaron who always, always checked up on everyone, aaron who would lightly touch your arm or caress the side of your face. aaron who says “atta girl”, and taps his hand on your back when he hugs. aaron who gave you soft smiles when other weren’t looking and aaron who only occasionally laughed at your lame jokes.

it was no surprise, really, that you had begun to look forward to getting up every morning to go to work.

a particularly harsh bump pushed aaron firmly against you, and a grunt make it’s way past his lips. it was hard to tell with all your senses on alert and tingling, but you heard him mumble something incoherently under his breath. you inhaled sharply, shaking your head quickly to get rid of the butterflies in your stomach.

you told yourself maybe it was the alcohol speaking. maybe the strobe lights were making you hallucinate, or maybe the music was making you think of other things. all of it was responsible for making you imagine the quickening of aaron’s heartbeat against your back, his ragged breaths, the way his hands tightened it’s grip on the table.

but really, in that moment, the music zoned out. your eyes no longer hurt from the flashing lights and everyone disappeared from view. it was just you, and him.

you finally found the courage to turn your head and look back at him, his forehead a little sweaty and his lips pursued. you looked down quickly. the both of you were so close, yet so far. he was holding back. his need, his desire. a fated push caused aaron’s nose to rub roughly against yours, and your broken breaths synced. you leaned forward, your nose still on his. you opened your mouth as if to say something, but you said nothing. you didn’t need to.

you eyes moved up to try and find his, but he was already looking at you. one of his hands came down to rest on your stomach, inching you even deeper against him. he leaned down, his lips barely brushing yours. it was completely silent for a moment. then, he breathed,

“do you want this?”

a/n: consent is sexy everyone 😇

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mousysims · 1 year

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mousy save; hold onto your hats

i started with my go-to simlicy save, so most of the residential lots and many of the community lots are by simlicy. i agonized over lot placement and number of each type of lot; i only ever play one family so it makes sense for me to have fewer residential lots and tons of community lots. i'm missing a lot of packs so this is pretty carefully curated to fit with what i do have (i'm used to replacing wallpaper and some furniture for most gallery builds but if it's missing much more than that I try a different lot). i love community lots that a) have things for sims to do and b) look pretty. all of these fit and i highly recommend every single one!!

willow creek

strip mall by simlicy

blue velvet by simlicy

rosado lounge by bottsbotts (it's turned the wrong way in the screenshot lmfao i've since turned it the right way)

summer lane vinyl by pixelddump (cc required)

umbrage manor by simlicy

sushi bar by therealpraline

acadia springs park by silrosse

honeydew coffee shop by ratboysims

oasis springs

thriftea mirage by ratboysims

rock n roller diner by amy_alston93

calico community pool by silrosse

house of mango by silrosse

desert bloom by wafl

llama lanes by simlicy

magnolia promenade

l'heure de the by e-aplouf

magnolia complex by simlicy

simazon bookstore by irrelephant7

ice cream shop by anadius

newcrest

newcrest mall by plasma-janes (cc required)

greasy goods by littledica (cc required)

monsun noodles by ratboysims

rollin park by ratboysims

george's brewpub by silrosse

solcaf by silrosse

rise and grind cafe by littledica (cc required)

industrial plant cafe by therealpraline

the forgotten by bottsbotts

les boules du lhama by e-aplouf

kids center by anadius

health and fitness center by jessiejessan

planete popemiel by e-aplouf

bamboo wok by silrosse

windenberg

plant shop by simlicy

island bluffs by wafl

thriftea by kateemerald

old quad restaurant by simlicy

old town bridal by simlicy

old town center by simlicy

the new old quarter inn by simlicy

bathe de rill by simlicy

ocean crown by ratboysims

discotheque pan europa by moonbearsim

patisserie by stjernesky

san myshuno

planet honey pop! by allisas

culpepper heights by bottsbotts

the naked gnome by bottsbotts

casbah gallery by pictureamoebae (cc required)

stargazer lounge by ratboysims

skye gym by ratboysims (converted to a library in my save)

myshuno meadows by simlicy

brindleton bay

pupperstone park by thaisvolpe

vet clinic by simlicy

yacht club by simlicy

grimalkin kitchen and tap by quiecence90

cat cafe by therealpraline

bedlington boathouse by simlicy

deadgrass discoveries by simlicy

del sol valley

hotel by simlicy

studio pbp by roxxysims

ward park and cafe by pinneaple8904

orchid a go go by whyeverr

newcrest cinema and arcade by silrossse (renovated to fit into del valley in my save)

starbucks and gym by simlicy

pride music festival by kriint (i placed on a bigger lot and expanded on the existing one)

sulani

laguna mermaid beach by feliciabrenning

sapphire shores by kwizz66

sulani juice bar by simcubeez

ohan'ali beach by simlicy

hang loose hangout by vulpeculai

evergreen harbor

quarry building by marie-lennie-joe

utopia cafe by silrosse

warehouse nightclub by simlicy

the waterfront by luckyheather

sprucewood pool by ratboysims

mt. komorebi

matsu no yu by tamo-sim

komorebi onsen by tksims__0oy

senbamachi market by diviniityx

hanamigawa koen by kaledz

izakaya ippai x2 by mariakarita

restaurant and karaoke bar by bottsbotts

henford-on-bagley

romantic woodland wedding by riemunen

granite lake by wafl (renovated to fit into henford-on-bagley in my save)

finchwick village hall by thesimline

the gnome's arms by yuliana_fib

copperdale

high school by aharris00britney

auditorium by luzy_lou_77

thriftea by luzy_lou_77

lakeview park by tinynezumi

mt komorebi cafe by pchrseen

teddy’s pizza and arcade by ratboysims

#sims 4 #ts4 #ts4 gallery finds #ts4 lot finds

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lavenderpanic · 2 months

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NEW FIC

Okay I've been messing around with this idea for like months and i only have like 3k words written and I wanted to test the waters to see if this is something you guys are interested in reading.

Brief synopsis: Bucky, a 23 year old college dropout, lives with his fiancé Brock Rumlow by the small New England college Brock is a professor at. Between his OCD and his anxiety and the gender dysphoria his fiancé assures him is all in his head, he struggles to find purpose and happiness. That is, until his fiancé's graduate student, Steve Rogers, moves into town and disrupts everything Bucky thought he knew.

Excerpt below cut, TW: OCD, DV, intentional midgendering/deadnaming, SH behaviors, coercion

Bucky peeks his head into the living room. There are only three men besides his fiancé, but the conversation is already too loud. Brock always says Bucky is just especially sensitive, that he has a naturally nervous predisposition, that’s why he’s best suited to staying home most of the time. He’s right, Bucky is sensitive, to noises and lights and crowds. Brock is so kind to not force him to go out. When he was a kid, his parents always thought he was faking it for attention, so they’d make him go to church and school and the grocery store even when he was overwhelmed. Brock never makes him leave if he doesn’t want to. And sometimes, even if he does want to, Brock knows it’s better for him to stay inside.

“Jamie, why don’t you bring out the drinks?” Brock calls.

Bucky’s back stiffens and he takes a slow breath. The men probably won’t even want to talk to him, they rarely do, beyond simple pleasantries. He just needs to smile and look nice. He grabs the silver tray of gin and tonics and walks into the living room with a timid little smile. He recognizes two of the men, other professors from the university, Rollins and Sitwell, he actually took a course with Rollins before he dropped out, but he doesn’t recognize the third. He looks barely older than Bucky himself, with his sandy hair and round, blue eyes, like perfectly ripe blueberries.

He doesn’t dress like the other men, either. During their classes, sure, they may dress nicely, in suits or button-ups with pressed slacks, but when they get together outside of that, they nearly always wear jeans, maybe a nice shirt or a sweater if they care enough that night. But the younger man, the blond, he’s dressed up like a vaguely homosexual humanities major from a nineties movie about a college in New England. Sweater vest, pants in a cinnamon-y kind of brown, a cream-white shirt rolled up to his elbows.

Brock pecks Bucky’s cheek as he places the tray down on the coffee table, next to the platters of carefully-selected crackers and nuts and cheeses that Bucky has spent the last two years learning how to curate. Brock’s real particular about shit like that. “Thanks, babe,” Brock says gently.

“Dinner should be ready soon,” Bucky whispers, sidling up close to him and glancing at the other men. “Like… half an hour more, I think? The potatoes just need a bit longer.”

“Of course, babydoll,” Brock murmurs, then kisses Bucky’s cheek again. “Go on, you don’t have to stay in here.”

Bucky smiles thankfully and disappears back into the kitchen. It’s a gorgeous kitchen, Brock wanted to gut it and rebuild it all marble and sleek, but Bucky begged him to keep it the way it is. It has beautiful hand painted tiles and dark-stained wooden cabinets and the most perfectly-worn brass fixtures. Brock finally agreed to keep it the way he bought it, if only because Bucky’s the one who spends so much time in the kitchen.

The kitchen smells glorious, the whole apartment does, really. Like thyme and garlic and the orange-cranberry cake he baked this afternoon. The potatoes in the oven are a soft golden-brown, encrusted with herbs, and the steak is resting on the counter. He did a good job. Brock will be happy with him. He didn’t mess up like last time.

He decides to start on the icing for the cake, a simple powdered sugar icing, perhaps with a squeeze or two of orange juice. He plucks the leftover orange from the ceramic fruit bowl and places it down on the counter before going to the cupboard and reaching for the paper bag of icing sugar. He has to stand on his tiptoes and lean against the counter and he’s still barely tall enough to brush his fingers against the bottom of the bag. He gets a loose grip on it when–

“Oh, hey, do you need help with that?”

Bucky whirls around in surprise, sending the bag tumbling to the ground. Nearly half of it flies out in a sugary cloud, painting the antique tiles an ashy grey. On the other side of the cloud stands the blond, the young man who Bucky still hasn’t been introduced to.

“Oh, shit, I’m sorry,” he says with wide eyes.

“No, no, my fault,” Bucky whispers. Brock is going to be so mad with him for making such a bad mess. He’ll need to really mop it, maybe twice or even three times, fine sugar is almost impossible to clean properly. “Sorry.”

“No, nonsense, do you have a broom or something, I could–”

Bucky shakes his head quickly and gestures for Steve to return to the men before he finds his voice. “‘S not your fault, I can clean it. Do you… you need something?”

“Yeah, I’m sorry, Rumlow just said there would be seltzer or soda or something in here. I’m not much of a drinker,” he laughs apologetically.

“Oh, yeah, of course,” Bucky nods. He opens the fridge to reveal shelves upon shelves of perfectly organized food, labeled tupperwares, straight lines of soda cans. “Any flavor you prefer?” Bucky asks quietly.

“Yeah, lemon would be great, thanks.” Bucky hands him a silvery can with a little lemon slice embossed into its front, careful not to slip into the mess of sugar. “Oh, I’m Steve, by the way. I’m a PhD candidate, I just moved here. I’m, um, TA-ing for one of Rumlow’s courses, and I’m teaching one myself.”

“Ooh, that sounds interesting,” Bucky hums. He struggles to think of an intelligent-sounding thing to say next. “What are you, like… getting your PhD in?”

Steve starts to say something, he nearly launches into what must be a very rehearsed recitation of his field of study, but Brock appears in the doorway next to him a moment later, places a hand on his far shoulder like they’re pals. Brock’s easy smile falls from his face when he sees the pile of sugar in the very center of the kitchen. Bucky instinctively takes a step back at the displeasure written into every line of his face. “What’s taking so long?” Brock chuckles, but there isn’t any humor in it.

“I’m really sorry, man,” Steve chuckles, ducking his head in faux-embarrassment. “I knocked over the sugar when I went to open the fridge, stupid mistake.”

Brock’s posture softens a bit, his shoulders drop and he stops glaring at Bucky quite so menacingly. “Yeah, she can clean it up, don’t worry about it.”

Bucky shoots Steve a little thankful grin as the two men walk out of the kitchen. He manages to salvage the sugar that didn’t fall out of the bag and does his best to brush as much of the mess on the floor into a trash bag as he can. He’ll clean the rest tonight, once everyone leaves and he can really scrub at the tile.

He doesn’t get the chance to make the icing before he has to plate up dinner, but that’s fine, the men usually like to drink and talk a bit in between dinner and dessert, so he should have plenty of time to ice the cake in between. He sets five plates full of potatoes and steak and grilled asparagus on the table and calls in for the men. He sits at Brock’s side. He doesn’t have steak, he doesn’t really like to eat meat, it feels weird against his teeth, but he does love potatoes and asparagus. He manages to finish off his plate, which earns him a small nod of approval from his fiancé.

“So, Jamie, what do you do?” Steve asks, once there’s a lull in conversation.

Bucky takes a shaky breath and glances to Brock before answering. “I really just take care of the home, I don’t… work or anything.”

The focus is quickly drawn away from him, and he doesn’t mind. He really doesn’t have anything interesting to add to any conversation. Not unless the topic is baked goods or bookshelves or something. He isn’t good at small talk, but it’s okay, because people don’t usually want to talk to him anyway.

He clears the table while the men chat in the living room. He notices Steve glancing at him through the doorway that connects the living room to the dining room, which makes him a bit uneasy, but people who meet him through Brock usually are a bit surprised to realize he’s so young. There’s only a seventeen year gap, but Bucky knows he’s still quite young. Most people don’t expect a forty-year-old professor to have a twenty-three-year-old fiancée at home. Bucky doesn’t mind. Brock doesn’t, so why should he?

He makes the icing once the table is re-set with clean dessert dishes, a simple icing, vanilla and powdered sugar and milk and a bit of orange juice. He drizzles it neatly onto the bundt cake and places it on the table proudly and waits in the kitchen until the men decide they’re hungry again. Steve sits next to Bucky this time. Brock on one side, Steve on the other.

“Shit, this is good,” Steve curses under his breath. The other men are too busy talking about something Bucky doesn’t understand to compliment him, but he doesn’t mind, he doesn’t need to be thanked for doing what’s expected of him. “Is this from, like, scratch?”

“Yeah,” Bucky whispers, grinning a bit. “It’s a recipe I developed. I have a lot of time. I made a lot of lemon blueberry cake this summer and I thought I could adapt it for autumn.”

“Are you gonna eat some? Seriously, this is like… better than bakery quality.”

“Oh, I’m not hungry,” Bucky lies. He’s on a diet. Not a strict one, but he absolutely couldn’t fit a whole slice of cake into his daily calorie allotment. Maybe if he doesn’t eat breakfast or lunch tomorrow, he could have a leftover slice after dinner.

He busies himself in the kitchen, packing up leftovers and wiping down the counters, while the men say their goodbyes. As expected, moments after the door shuts, Brock appears in the kitchen. “You need to clean the floor,” He says, as if that hasn’t been the only thing on Bucky’s mind all evening.

“I will,” Bucky promises earnestly. “Did I do good tonight?”

“Well, darling,” Brock corrects with a little chuckle. “Yes, you did very well. Such a lovely hostess,” he teases, which makes Bucky’s cheeks go a bit pink, he never does like when Brock makes such a point of calling him a woman, but he knows he meant it as a compliment so he doesn’t protest.

“Thank you,” Bucky grins.

“Come to the bedroom once this is all cleaned up, alright?”

“Alright,” Bucky parrots nervously. He’ll have to hurry up his cleaning, Brock gets mad when he thinks Bucky is procrastinating sex. Bucky doesn’t want to be punished tonight. Having to see so many people already exhausted him, and he narrowly escaped a punishment for dropping the sugar all over the kitchen floor.

But still, he presses a polite smile onto his face and nods and Brock leaves him alone to clean. After two passes with a mop, there are only a few sticky streaks left behind. He’ll really scrub it clean tomorrow, but Brock probably won’t notice in the interim.

Bucky reluctantly shuffles up the stairs to the bedroom. Brock is laying down on the bed, laptop balanced on his thighs. Bucky resists the urge to remind him not to wear outside clothes on the fresh comforter, just barely, Brock gets annoyed when he gets all obsessive about that kind of stuff. Bucky perches delicately on the end of the bed and waits for Brock to finish whatever he’s typing up. He rushes Brock, sometimes, because he’s selfish with Brock’s time. He’s trying to get better, though.

Finally, Brock closes his computer and places it on the side table. He looks at Bucky for several tense breaths. Bucky fidgets anxiously. Is something wrong? Is he doing something wrong? He glances down unsurely at what he’s wearing. “I noticed you were doing it again,” Brock finally states.

“Doing what?” Bucky whispers.

“Scratching your arms.”

“I haven’t been,” Bucky defends quickly. His hands immediately go to circle his forearms, he crosses them over his chest protectively.

“I saw you doing it tonight,” Brock says slowly. “Take off your sweater, Jamie. And roll up those sleeves, too.”

Bucky pulls his knit sweater over his head, then bunches up the long sleeves of his dress to his elbows so his forearms are visible. All along his arms, blanketed by a sheer layer of iridescent scars, soft violet bruises blossom alongside irritated-looking scratches, some newer than others. He looks away, embarrassed. He truly didn’t notice he was doing it, it’s been a habit for so long that he rarely registers it. Brock coos with mock-sympathy and sits up a bit, gesturing for Bucky to scoot closer. He does.

“Baby, you need to stop doing that, look how ugly they are. You’re just making it harder for the scars to heal.”

“‘M sorry,” Bucky mumbles. Brock takes him by the wrists, turns his mottled arms this way and that. After a few moments of inspection, Brock drops his arms again and reaches his hands for his belt. “No, please, I’m sorry,” Bucky whispers desperately, shrinking away from his fiancé as discreetly as he can manage.

“Hands out.”

Bucky lifts his hands up, facing the palms toward Brock. They’re trembling, but he knows better than to refuse. Brock carefully folds his belt in half and strikes Bucky’s palms, ten times, in close succession. Bucky flinches, but he never takes his hands away. Brock is right to discipline him. He’s right, he needs to break this habit. It is ugly. He’s ugly. Brock deserves better than that. “Thank you,” he says quickly, as Brock tosses the belt to the side and leans back against the headboard.

“I’m just trying to help you, darling, you know that.”

“I do,” Bucky nods, rubbing his hands up and down his arms. Brock always keeps the house so freezing. Bucky usually doesn’t mind, but he always feels so shaky when Brock makes him get undressed. His fingertips turn all blue.

Brock undoes his pants, spreads his legs to either side of Bucky so he can crawl forward and situate himself on his stomach. He takes Brock’s dick out of his pants and strokes at it a couple times, but it’s already erect. He takes it into his mouth and sucks gently at the head, he wants to prolong this part to hopefully avoid having Brock fuck into the back of his throat for too long. He hates that. One time he got sick, and Brock got so mad, even though Bucky kind of felt, deep down, like it was Brock’s fault. Since then, every time Brock starts gripping onto his hair and thrusting down his throat, he feels panic tugging at his lungs and nausea pooling low in his stomach.

Thankfully, he leaves Bucky in control for most of the blowjob, he lets him wrap his hands around the length left out of his mouth and stroke at it, which keeps him mollified, even if Bucky should try a bit harder to deepthroat him. Before he can come, he lifts Bucky off of his dick. Bucky blinks and sniffles unsurely as oxygen floods into his lungs. He didn’t–

Bucky flinches as a string of come lands over his eye. Another one, in his hair. He breathes shakily and retches shallowly and waits for Brock to be done. Thankfully, Brock isn’t very chatty after sex. He just throws a few tissues at him and starts scrolling through his phone, dick still hanging out of his undone fly. Bucky used to crave intimacy and conversation afterwards but nowadays he’s just so excited to run off to the shower and have a few minutes to himself.

He starts running the shower in the conjoined bathroom before he even starts undressing. He usually likes to let the mirror steam up so he doesn’t have to look at himself more than necessary. It’s not that the dresses and lipstick and frilly blouses don’t make him dysphoric, and he can still see the contours of his body, his chest, his waist, even through the thin layer of steam collected on the mirror, but it makes his evenings just a bit easier.

Sometimes he dares to use Brock’s body wash, the one that smells like, according to the bottle, a volcano, which makes Bucky giggle a bit. Brock rarely notices when he does, and Bucky can usually pass it off rather easily, oh, we’re almost out of mine, if he mentions it. But tonight he doesn’t. Tonight, he scrubs himself down with his apricot-sweet gel and lathers his hair until it’s sleek and shiny with coconut shampoo and conditioner. Sometimes, he tries to buy nice girly things, scents that make him happy, in some lame attempt to convince himself that he can be happy as a woman. That he can embrace it, embrace the delicate femininity Brock so desperately wants him to embody. So far, he hasn’t had much luck.

#bucky barnes #stucky #steve rogers #stevebucky #fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #captain america #bucky barnes fanfiction #catws #winterbones #fanfic #winterbones fanfiction #brock rumlow #bucky x steve #bucky x brock #marvel #marvel fanfic

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kayyybenson · 1 year

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Sick - Nick Amaro

I stood closely behind Nick as he interrogated the suspect. He wanted me to stay behind him, just in case he tries to attack us. He was a step up from the shitty partner I had in Atlanta, and I loved it, Amanda always teased me claiming I had a 'crush' on him. But that's just what twins do to each other, we're not identical appearance-wise, but personality-wise we're practically the same.

"You know we found your DNA on the victim right?" Nick dropped his voice to seem threatening.

"I didn't rape her. I promise."

"Then why did we find your semen in her!?" I yelled.

"I don't know!" I suddenly felt nauseous. I'm assuming I went pale because Nick turned to me, concerned.

"Y/N?" Nick slowly approached me, but I scooted to a corner to throw up the lunch that cost me $20. "Yikes, you good?"

"I don't know." I gasped. He led me out of the room. Amanda and Carisi took our place.

He handed me the trash can that was next to his desk. "Maybe you should go home, you are clearly under the weather."

"No-" I threw up again. "I'm fine."

"Girl, if you don't go home I am personally going to sedate you and drop you off in the middle of nowhere." Fin cut in.

"Jesus Fin," I mumbled, head still in the trashcan.

"Take the rest of the day off Rollins," Liv gave me a concerned look.

"Which one?" She did not like that joke, I groaned and grabbed the keys to Amanda's car, we carpooled today, something we usually don't do. "Tell Mandy I'm taking the car."

"You are not driving when you can't keep your food in your stomach." Nick protested grabbing the keys from me.

"Wha-hey!" I yelled trying to get them back, I guess I moved too fast because I retreated back to my chair and threw up once again.

"Amanda will be taking you home," Liv said. "You both can go, just stop puking in my squad room." I let out a long groan and let Amanda drag me by the arm. Once we got to our apartments she opened my door and led me to the couch.

"I told you the eggs were bad." she chuckled, I groaned and threw a pillow at her. Our apartments were conjointed so she unlocked the middle door and Franny ran in jumping onto me.

"Hey, girl! Oh, I missed you! Hi, baby." I hugged her and rubbed her fur. Eventually, I went to the kitchen and grabbed a Gatorade from the fridge, hoping to get rid of the nausea. When I just felt sicker I stared at the open fridge "Screw it." I grabbed a bottle of wine, not even bothering to pour it into a cup before drinking some, and falling to the couch.

-------------------------

"Hey Y/N."

"Hey, Mandy." She dropped a bag onto my counter. "What's that?"

"I went shopping, Nick is coming in with some bags too. He wanted to check on you." She smirked at me before leaving for her apartment, Franny following close behind. Nick walked in soon after, carrying two more bags.

"You know you shouldn't drink wine when you're sick." I flipped him off and he smiled. "Amanda said you liked (Flavor) ice cream and (Favorite Candy), so we got some of that. And this. He pulled out a huge stuffed animal.

"What is that?"

"A get well soon teddy bear." I covered my mouth and chuckled. "What?"

"Nicky, it's just food poisoning." He pushed the stuffed animal towards me anyway.

"Take it, Amanda said you have a stuffie collection." My face got hot and I avoided eye contact.

"What-I-I have no idea-" I ran to the bathroom and puked again.

"Just food poisoning my ass." He stood behind me, pulling my hair into a ponytail. Once I was done he led me to my bedroom and pushed all my stuffed animals off to the side. I laid down and he tucked me in, setting some water on the nightstand. He went to walk off but I grabbed his hand.

"No, stay. Please,"

"Y/N, there are stuffed animals everywhere, there's nowhere for me to go." I kicked them all off my bed and pat the empty space. He gave me a look and laid next to me.

"You smell expensive," He chuckled and pulled me close to his body, he was warm, and his breathing was calming. "Nick?"

"Yeah Y/N?"

"Why do you care so much?"

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me."

"Well, there's a lot of reasons."

"Go on."

"After hearing about how shitty your old partner was I guess I wanted to make sure you have a good experience at SVU, but somewhere in there..... I fell in love."

"With who?" I felt nauseous again and bolted to the bathroom. "Ah, shit!" I yelled when I stubbed my toe.

"I fell in love with you. Look at you, you're gorgeous, I'm glad you and Amanda aren't identical, one is enough." I couldn't hold my laugh in and ended up rolling on the bathroom floor.

"I love you too Nick," I said once I stopped laughing, he leaned in for a kiss but I stopped him. "Nah-uh. Still sick."

#nick amaro imagine #nick amaro x you #nick amaro #law and order svu #svu #amanda rollins #olivia benson #fin tutuola #nick amaro x reader

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anxresi · 10 months

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Brace yourselves, folks… We’re about to enter the dark, dreary and sometimes disturbing world which is Thomas Astruc on Twitter. 😧

Those possessed of a weak disposition, prone to nausea or an complete intolerance to utter bullshit may want to turn back now. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. (but still leave me a ‘like’, if you’re feeling generous 🙏)

Anyway, what ‘delights’ has this stand-up guy, this pioneer of mediocre cartooning, this dude on the cusp of arguing with little kids on Twitter been sharing with us, the great unwashed, at this present time? Let’s run through a brief checklist of the ‘highlights’, shall we?

*Telling people the upcoming Miraculous movie is what the fans ‘want’ but the show is what we ‘need’ (whatever THAT means, typically modest reaction from the epitome of humbleness himself).

*Saying that anyone who DARES criticise the show should ‘keep it to themselves’ or they’ll be ‘blocked for spreading negativity about the artists’ (dude thinks he can police Twitter… good luck with that!)

*Informing fanfiction writers that their work is ‘pointless’ and the only people who know what they’re doing are him and his team (If you mean ‘How To Destroy A Franchise In Five Easy Seasons… I guess he’s right)

But his favorite topic (seriously, check out his replies… we’re talking more than 50% here) concerns a fictional teenage girl he constantly decries but can’t seem to get enough of moaning about. It is of course… oh let’s face it. You know the answer to that one already. ROLL THE TWEETS!!

Yep, you guessed it. Apart from the OP being uncommonly accurate in their opinion, now apparently ‘Chloe’ has become The Not-So-Great Bearded One’s new insult of choice for anyone who dislikes what’s been done to the show. Poor ‘Karen’ never stood a chance… 😢

What a mature, grown-up type chap he is! I have no idea why he’s no longer referred to as ‘Hawk Daddy’ in polite circles, and instead called ‘Man Baby’. Just look at him, REALLY giving it a bunch of teens on Twitter who DARE imply his show is nothing but da best! You go, Thomas! Go change your dirty diaper, that is. 🤢

So, abandoning all her subtleties and nuance , reducing her to a shrieking monster and choosing to actively give characters who have arguably done FAR WORSE throughout the series much better endings means they ‘wrote it well’? Gosh, maybe getting an F in English stands for ‘Fabulous’ after all!

Guess in Thomas’s somewhat warped worldview, everyone who doesn’t like 💯 of his show from top to bottom should be placed on a plane with their main abuser to be forcibly deported and probably tortured for the rest of their sorry lives. That’ll teach them!

And who cares about stupid stuff like ‘build-up’ or ‘character-development’ if they genuinely were preparing Chloe for… what was that thing he described it as again… a ‘damnation’ arc? Let’s just flip a switch at the end of S3 to turn her into a pathetic caricature of her worst excesses without explanation, then introduce a ‘perfect’ sister out of nowhere to throw all those undesirable traits into sharp relief! And that’s not even getting into that detestable retconning flashback episode… What an absolutely fantastic idea to make everyone hate her as much as Thomas does!

No-one will notice the sudden incongruity here… after all, the average age of their audience is 5-8 so if they just throw excrement like crazed baboons about Chloe at the young audience time and time again caveman-style CHLOE: BAD. EVERYONE ELSE: GOOD the kids will chow it up like cheap chocolate ice cream! The older ones that do kick up a fuss? Who gives a ****. They don’t buy the merchandise, and where would all those hard-working producers if it wasn’t for all that cheap plastic crap?

With considerably less cars, swimming pools and exotic holidays to hard-to-pronounce destinations, that’s where! Let’s keep that bandwagon of shit a-rollin’… 🤑

Ah, now I believe this is that classic tactic otherwise known as ‘gaslighting’. When you say something as a fact over and over again, when the opposite is clearly true. Those of lesser willpower may start to accept it as reality while others (mostly those with functioning eyes, ears and brains)… won’t.

You know who was also good at that gaslighting thing, don’t you? A few clues… A Former (thank God) President? Very orange? Initials DT? Yep, that guy.

…And coincidentally, someone Thomas has been known to compare Chloe (14 year old girl, let’s not forget) to regularly. I mean, with THAT kind of accolade hanging over her head from the guy who created her, how could she ever fail?

See? What a great influence he is on the young too! Now he’s got his own handpicked gang of sycophants out of the street labelling anyone with the slightest complaint from a)pointing out the animation was slightly better last season or b)saying they miss the old transformation sequences as a ‘Chloe’. I think we’ve found his new favorite insult, and it’s the worst word he can possibly think of. Figures.

I bet he’s putting together a petition as we speak, for an official entry into the dictionary. Fortunately, there’s already one for ‘Thomas’, as in ‘Doubting Thomas’… someone who talks so much nonsense you should disbelieve anything they say. Or Thomas The Tank Engine, because whenever you mention a certain Blonde’s name in his presence, he tends to blow steam, look very heated and… you get the picture. 😆

On top of everything else, now he’s issuing threats. I have to hand it to him though… that’s a pretty good one. NO PLEASE TAKE MY MONEY MY LIFE I’LL EVEN GIVE YOU A FOOT RUB A BACK RUB AND LEARN TO LOVE ZOE ANYTHING BUT THAT NNNNNNOOOOOO….

Seriously guys, we need an immediate intervention. THIS CANNOT BE ALLOWED TO HAPPEN. I’m about to book an emergency flight to France, to barricade him in his office until he promises to never again even entertain the notion of… this. Who’s with me?

(And incidentally while I’m there, does anyone want me to pick them a souvenir? A beret? Frog legs soup? One of those miniature replicas of the Eiffel Tower? Let me know by tomorrow at the latest, and I’ll see what I can do) 😊🇫🇷

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous #ladybug #chloe bourgeois #ml salt #disney #ml #zag #ml leaks #thomas astruc #aah that felt good

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hainethehero · 5 months

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Fluffy hair, plush pink lips, a permanent pout, gorgeous tits and a peachy ass...

AND YALL THINK THIS MAN IS AN ALPHA?

A TOP?!

The first time he topped, he cried and made Bucky promise never to do it again!

He likes soft, cosy blankets, hot cocoa and snuggles dammit!

He likes when Bucky sings him to sleep!

Natasha holds his hands sometimes on missions when his anxiety gets too much!

Tony keeps lil Ty beanie boo plushies around Avengers tower just for Steve when he gets bored or lonely.

Bruce watches Bluey with him because he finds modern children's animation and TV MINDBLOWING!

Rumlow lets him doodle on his hand when they're being debriefed for missions at SHIELD.

Rollins lets him put his head on his lap during breaks on missions.

Thor answers all his questions about Asgard and takes him there to draw and paint!

Clint brings Steve along with his family when it's movie night!

Fury plays boardgames with him!

And Sam takes him for ice-cream and coffee and long walks in the park!

This man is soft! This man is adorable! And MCU has taken all that away from him. He is not always in charge, he does not like war, he hates the government and he just wants to be seen as a person.

Thank you for coming to my TedTalk.

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greendayauthority · 22 days

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Song messages in the deluxe version of the ¡Dos! book

See You Tonight

'We all have the best intentions... don't we?'

Fuck Time

'Ahh, fuck it! Dogs will be dogs'

Stop When the Red Lights Flash

'Red light red light bang bang bang go! Drum roll please!'

Lazy Bones

'Drunks, chumps & sugar lumps. Unite & die. The bottom is not so far away when you are already on your knees.'

Wild One

'Give me some fucking ice cream! Let's fall in love (just for an hour)'

Makeout Party

'Based on actual events that happened in an alien spaceship from an unknown planet on the lower east side of my brain.'

Stray Heart

There is no message for this song.

Ashley

'It's so good to see you. You look rested. How was your 20-year trip? I see you made it back.'

Baby Eyes

'We all grow up on the wrong side of the womb. Free guns on the house!'

Lady Cobra

'Drive up this road, hang a left, then go down down down. Blackout & take your hands off the wheel.'

Nightlife

'Take me to hell for my birthday. Bake me a cake with a file inside. Go cobras go!'

Wow! That's Loud

'Rollin' rollin' rollin' raw hide' / 'Pinch me I think I'm bleeding...'

Amy

'And all that's left is left behind... goodnight.'

#green day #uno dos tre era #uno dos tre #song meanings #lyrics #dos #see you tonight #fuck time #stop when the red lights flash #lazy bones #wild one #makeout party #stray heart #ashley #baby eyes #wow that's loud #lady cobra #nightlife #amy

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sukaridragon · 10 months

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🍦 me rollin' up when I hear the ice cream truck 🍦

------

🧵 Credit 🧵

📷 By HillbillyHyena

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outrageousmenshair · 8 months

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Or Plaited J-Roll delight?

#Themed Day #Seasons Pass #Drifting Away #Elephant Trunk #Jelly Roll #Cry Baby #It's My Party and I'll Cry Baby If I Want To #Jelly Rollin' in the Deep #Jelly Jelly Ice Cream #Daze Drift 5.2

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marveltrumpshate · 10 days

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March 2024 MTH fills

The best way to see all the fills that have been shared with us is our monthly roundups tag or our #MTH-fills channel on our Discord, but you can also view them through the following methods:

Our Tumblr tags: 2018, 2019, 2020, 2021, 2022, 2023

Our AO3 collection (only has works posted to AO3; see "subcollections" for specific auction years)

Completed works tag list

To find specific content, use our completed works tag lists above which includes instructions on how to search for a particular character, gen or romantic relationship, universe, and fanwork type.

SOLO CHARACTERS

Hobie Brown

@jacketpotatoo - Art of Hobie stitching together his Spider-Man outfit for @nostalgicatsea

Marc Spector

@newnewyorker93 - Felt beanbag Moon Knight sachet for @ruquas

GEN/PLATONIC RELATIONSHIPS

Bucky Barnes & Natasha Romanov

MedeaV/@medeafive - "Winter at the beach" (Bucky & Nat fic where Bucky has a hard time adjusting to modern swimwear) for @puzzlebean

Bucky Barnes & Natasha Romanov & Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson

@bulkyphrase - Wooden Captain America: The Winter Soldier alphabet block set for Maiasaura

Bucky Barnes & Steve Rogers & Tony Stark & Sam Wilson

swtalmnd/@amysnotdeadyet - "Feed" (Bucky & Sam & Steve & Tony gen AU fic (background Bucky/Tony) where Steve and Sam go grocery shopping and bring back what they bought to the tower) for @saganarojanaolt and newtypeshadow (MTH 2022)

Steve Rogers & Thor

happyaspie/@yes-i-am-happyaspie - Art of MCU Steve showing Thor his drawing while they have an ice cream break on the side of a road during their road trip for @marvakakittenwrites

SHIPS

Bucky Barnes/Helmut Zemo

Alistair Nightly - Podfic of "Five Alarm Neighbors," a Bucky/Zemo non-powered AU fic where Zemo wants to get the attention of firefighter neighbor Bucky by @six-demon-bag for Lady Gigi

Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers/Tony Stark

Flowering Glass/@floweringglass - A set of Bucky/Steve/Tony-themed stained glass trinket boxes that can come together into one design for @tehroserose

Juulna/@juuls - Podfic of "One Date Wonder," a Bucky/Steve/Tony non-powered AU fic about Steve and Bucky helping out Tony, who's luckless at dating for @aquatigermice

Bucky Barnes/Tony Stark

@amysnotdeadyet/swtalmnd - "Catalytic" (AU fic where Bucky and Tony make lasagna) for newtypeshadow and @saganarojanaolt (MTH 2022) - "Fuel" (AU fic where Bucky and Tony talk about cooking) for newtypeshadow and saganarojanaolt (MTH 2022)

snarkyship/@snarkyship-main - "A Marriage of Convenience" (Bucky/Tony arranged marriage and mistaken identity medieval/fantasy AU comic) (also on Tumblr) for @massivespacewren (MTH 2022)

Bucky Barnes/Loki

Lalaith Quetzalli/@lalaithquetzallicaresi - Cover/poster for "I Have a Heart," an MCU Bucky/Loki A/B/O AU fic by and for @marvakakittenwrites - Cover/poster for "Grief Stricken Souls," a Bucky/Loki A/B/O AU fic where the two meet at a bereavement support group by and for marvakakittenwrites

Clint Barton/Phil Coulson

ArielT and NickiB - "On the Grid" (MCU Clint/Coulson fic where Phil teaches Clint how to live on the grid) for @winter-angst

Jack Rollins/Brock Rumlow

@ruquas - "The burdens I took to change the ones you have" (Brock Rumlow/Jack Rollins non-powered soulmate hurt/comfort AU fic) for @kalika999 (MTH 2022)

Loki/Tony Stark

Lalaith Quetzalli/@lalaithquetzallicaresi - Header/banner for "Best Laid Plans," a Loki/Tony A/B/O AU fic by and for marvakakittenwrites

Matt Murdock/Foggy Nelson

Marvel_Kitten - "Too Late, Buddy!" (post-Daredevil S01E06 MCU Matt/Foggy fic where Foggy finds out about Matt's secret double life) for @kimmycup

@not-madder-red - "Cats And Bags" (dark Matt/Foggy AU fic where Foggy tries to prevent Matt, whom he thinks is an asshole, from dating Karen by catfishing Matt) for @missmoochy

Steve Rogers/Tony Stark

Juulna/@juuls - Podfic of "Here to Stay," a post-Endgame Steve/Tony fic where Steve stays at Tony's cabin by @avengersnewb for @ishipallthings

#monthly roundup #march 2024 #mth 2022 #mth 2023

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shyphonics · 12 days

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Salad Days Chapter 4: When Archeologists Dig This Up, They'll Either Laugh or Cry

(babypunk!Rodrick Heffley x reader)

chapter one | chapter two | chapter three

also, please take my favorite live performance of rise above by Black Flag as a companion piece

Hey!

I do not like you college brat

I do not like you and your frat

I do not like you at the shore

I do not like you drunk on coors

I do not like your average life

I hope you do not take a wife

I hope you don’t decide to breed

Cause that’s one thing I do not need

Well, they did it. They’ve got a van full of booze, and a sense of self satisfaction.

It had taken a while to fit everything in, and the guy at the pickup spot hadn’t been very nice, but they did it.

Mike seems more calm when they show up to The Strike, happy to see them, even.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you, you giraffe of a man!” He pulls Rodrick into a hug, heartily patting him on the back. Rodrick does kind of feel like a giraffe, Mike only comes up to the middle of his chest.

“Hey, if there’s anything else you need, just let us know!” Rodrick gives him a smile.

He grabs a box of bottles and heads through the back door of the bar. The guys work like ants; grab a case, march to the walk in, march back. They’re done in no time. He wonders if the delivery center is hiring, because that was easy.

Mike shoves a bundle of money into his hands, and gives him another pat on the back.

“She was right about you.”

“Huh?”

“You’ve got the spirit,” he smiles, “like a young Henry Rollins, slingin’ ice cream. See you tomorrow. Show up at 5 PM, load in here. Got it?”

“Got it,” Rodrick nods.

The spirit. He has no idea what that means, but he’s grateful for the sentiment. Especially if you’d said something nice about him… he finally has ammo to tease you back.

Mike disappears into the back of the bar, and the guys regroup to count their unexpected pay.

“Dude, he gave us a hundred dollars!” Chris says, shocked.

They recount again and again, coming to one hundred every time. They can’t believe it, and they speed away from the bar with the radio turned all the way up.

The rest of their day is spent planning. They craft the perfect setlist, they find their tightest jeans, they even find time to learn a surprise cover song. It's one he'd heard on your radio shift, and it's been stuck in his head all day.

Everything has to be perfect.

Rodrick is sure everything is gonna be perfect.

It’s only 5:30 by the time they’re done setting up, and they find themselves just standing in front of the stage, awestruck.

It’s not huge by any means, but it’s high off the ground and covered in lights. There’s a full PA system, and even a pole to hang their homemade bedsheet flag from.

The bar is empty, except for a guy in the sound booth, Jimbo by the door, and two bartenders prepping. Rodrick doesn’t see you, and immediately gets a pang of sadness.

“Hey,” he starts, leaning on the bar.

“We can’t serve yet, sorry.” A girl with tight blonde curls shuts him down.

“Oh, no, I was gonna ask… where’s the other girl that works here?”

She thinks for a moment, then makes a face of realization.

“Oh, she’s not working tonight. She’s headlining.”

Rodrick’s eyes go wide. Headlining? You? His mind is blown.

The bartender goes back to prepping without giving him a second thought. Rodrick walks back to the stage, zombie-like, deep in thought.

Now they really have to be perfect.

A few people have come in through the back, and they’re setting up portable tables along a wall.

“You guys need one?” A girl with tall, spiked hair asks.

They look at each other. Merch. Duh. They're pretty sure they have an unorganized cardboard box of t-shirts and buttons in the van. Ward had spent all his high school graduation cash on some real ones from a print shop.

Ben and Chris wedge the table out from between two vending machines, and Rodrick digs the box out of the van. It’s not a very impressive setup, but they’re pretty happy with themselves.

The doors open at 7, and it doesn’t take long for the place to fill up. Mike comes by and gives each of the guys three little paper tickets, like you’d get at an arcade.

“Beer tickets,” he says, before they can ask, “one of these gets you anything canned or bottled. Be nice to the bartenders, please.”

Ward and Ben high five and head straight to the bar, Chris heads to the bathroom, and Rodrick does a full scan of the area by the stage. Where are you? He needs to make fun of you for being nice to him, dammit.

Ward and Ben get back, looking a little shaken up.

“Rodrick, hey, do you want us to get you a beer?” Ben chuckles nervously.

“Nah, I can get it myself,” Rodrick starts to walk towards the front.

“No, no,” Ward puts a hand on his shoulder.

“You should really let us get you one!” Ben makes urgent eye contact.

“Why...?” Rodrick is starting to get freaked out.

“‘Cause we’re buddies!” Ward pats him on the shoulder.

Something is definitely up.

Rodrick pushes past Ward, walking through the tall arch that leads to the bar area. It’s absolutely packed. His heart skips a beat when he sees a flash of golden blonde hair.

Oddly familiar golden blonde hair.

The girl turns around.

No. It can’t be. There’s no way in hell that it’s-

“Heather Hills,” Rodrick whispers, grateful for the loud house music.

She’s sitting at the bar with a large group of people. Some douchebag with a double popped collar has his arm around her. They’re all laughing- the kind of laugh you do at someone. Snotty.

Any attraction he’d had to her has been completely gone for years. He feels a mix of hatred and nausea. They’re at the far end of the bar, by the door, so Rodrick blends in at the other end.

Please don’t look at me.

He gets a beer from the bartender from earlier, making sure to tip as your snarky reminder rings in his head. Also making sure to avoid Natty Light. He turns fast to get back to the stage, and right before he’s through the arch-

“Rodrick? Rodrick Heffley?”

He wheels around. She’s right fucking behind him.

“Oh, hey, what was your name again?” He rolls his eyes.

“Real mature, asshole.” She scoffs, “What are you doing here?”

“Playing a show. What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Aww, you don’t wanna play nice with me?” She drags a finger down his chest. It enrages him.

“No. And you know why?” His voice goes low. He leans down so his face is close to hers, and he’s about to let everything out. Her face is smug, and she raises her eyebrows.

Suddenly, there’s a hand on his back.

“Hey, you’re on in ten. Soundcheck time.” You peer around to see Rodrick's face. He looks pissed. You’re not sure what’s going on, but it’s none of your business. You’re just the messenger.

Rodrick’s eyes bug when he sees you, and his face relaxes a little.

“Um, excuse me, we were talking.” The blonde girl sneers at you.

“You can talk later. We gotta get this shit rollin’.” You don’t wait to see her reaction. You just turn around and head back to the stage.

If you’re honest, it's a little disappointing seeing Rodrick with, you assume, his very pretty girlfriend. It makes sense though. He's a nice looking guy. Your official assessment is toxic on-again, off-again high school sweethearts. Oh, well.

Just keep walking. Stay on schedule. Five bands, twenty minute sets, ten minutes for stage change. You repeat it in your head like a mantra.

Heather’s mouth is hanging open. Rodrick winces.

“Gotta go,”

He practically runs to the stage.

They’ve never done a real soundcheck before, and it’s kind of an intimidating process. The sound engineer is very no nonsense. Rodrick checks his drums one by one. Then bass, guitars, mics. Each adjustment is barely noticeable to them, and they end up just giving a thumbs up every time the engineer asks a question. Finally, they run through the whole chorus of a song to hear everything together. By that point, the dance floor is almost entirely full.

Rodrick takes a deep breath, scanning for Heather. He hopes she just left.

They've come a long way since their high school days, no longer unpracticed wannabes. Their sound has become pretty good, if they say so themselves. Tonight's only adjustment is to play faster.

The sound guy points at them, and Ben clears his throat.

“We… are Löded Diper!”

The chatting in the crowd subsides, and falls silent.

Rodrick hears snickering, and a voice saying oh my god, that IS him!

He panics, and right when the tension is almost too much to bear, a loud WOOOOOOOO comes from the very front. He looks and sees you, trying to rile up the crowd. It seems to be working. Other people are giving half-hearted cheers, which is something at least.

“That's more like it!” Ben yells, and they launch into their first song.

They only have a five song set, so everything has to count. Ben’s wails are powerful, he's really embodying a frontman. Chris is whipping his hair around, and Ward is the true picture of a bassist. Strong, still, and holding it all together.

Rodrick is hyper-focused on keeping the rhythm. And maybe showing off, just a little bit. He puts his whole body into hitting the drums, his mouth pulled into a tight “o”.

You have a perfect view from the front row, and what a view it is.

He's killing it. So focused and steady, but it looks like he's having fun. He leans into the mic to sing backup, and you get a flash of his sharp canines. You can see the muscles in his arms clenching, and the front of his hair is wet with sweat.

You feel your face getting hot, and you're reluctant to admit it's not just from the packed room. You’re suddenly faced with the very real possibility that you're very attracted to him.

He gives you a huge grin and a wink between songs, and it's no longer just a possibility. Fuck.

Blasts of air from his bass drum cool your face down, and you stare at him a little closer, analyzing.

You've been infantilising him a little bit, you'll admit it.

Kid. Cute. Baby boy.

Although you’re pretty sure the two of you are the same age, he just comes off like a teenager. You couldn’t help but haze him a little bit, especially after he just wandered into the bar with no plan. He’s really proving himself right now.

The crowd is going crazy. You’re holding yourself up on the edge of the stage, but behind you, a sizable pit has opened up. People are loving them.

“We have one more!” Ben shouts. People are screaming.

“We learned it just for you!” Rodrick yells. There’s something snarky about his tone. You like it.

You recognize the song immediately. Their rendition is just a little clunky, but it works. You can't help but smile, and wonder if Rodrick somehow heard your radio shift last night.

It's such a good choice for a first show. Perfect, really. It's like they're saying, we're here, fuckers.

You let the crowd swallow you up as you sing along.

Society's arms of control

(Rise above, we're gonna rise above!)

They think they're smart, can't think for themselves

(Rise above, we're gonna rise above!)

Laugh at us behind our backs

(Rise above, we're gonna rise above!)

I find satisfaction in what they lack

(Rise above, we're gonna rise above!)

We! Are Tired!

Of your! Abuse!

Try to stop us!

But it’s! No use!

The aftermath of their set is chaos. Good chaos, but chaos. They tear down their gear and load up the van. On their way back in, people are yelling and patting their shoulders as they walk by.

Hell yeah, dude!

Good set, bro!

It feels good.

A small crowd has formed at their merch table. Chris takes on the task of handling the sales, and before they know it, their box is nearly half gone. They hadn't expected that.

Another unexpected side effect of playing a good set: booze.

Once the merch crowd is gone, old rocker types materialize, holding out shot glasses and cans. One guy hands Rodrick a shot of something that burns, and puts a heavy arm around his shoulder. He starts up a conversation about drumming, which is really more like a monologue.

You were great out there, man. Who's your favorite? Like, who's your guy? It's Lars for me, bro, 100%. I saw Metallica in ‘88, bro. Busted a knee in the pit, and now I can’t play a double pedal no more. Where'd you learn to play like that? You could play like Hellhammer with those arms. Fuckin’ rock on, brother. Oh, hey, sorry, I was supposed to give you this lime to help with the tequila...

Rodrick’s head swims as the guy babbles, nodding his head like he's listening.

“Thank you,” he finally sighs out. He’s exhausted from just listening to the guy. He pops the lime in his mouth, and it does help quite a bit.

People just keep coming with shots, and beers, and stories, and the guys end up piss drunk before the second band is done setting up.

Rodrick smiles and looks around. He's having fun. They did what they came to do, and people actually liked it. The rest of the guys are making conversation with the other bands. Heather and whoever else had been laughing at him are nowhere to be seen, and he's happy.

Even happier when you appear in front of the table.

“Heyyy!” He yells, giving you a singular finger gun, his other hand occupied with a beer can.

You take one look at his half lidded eyes and lazy smile, and realize he's wasted.

“Are you drunk?” You cackle, “It's not even 8:30!”

He turns, and spits a sucked-dry lime slice into the trash can next to him.

“Shut up! You're drunk!” Rodrick points at you, smile still wide.

“Oh, man. You're gone. Your girlfriend is gonna be pissed!” You laugh.

The drunk-happy look fades from his face.

“My huh?”

“That girl you were talking to you. Girlfriend, right?”

“No fucking way!” he bursts out laughing, “She’s a rich, stuck-up asshole! She's an evil witch from hell!” He downs the rest of his beer.

“Harsh, but I believe you.”

Well, that settles that.

You wonder if Rodrick has ever been this drunk in his life. He doesn't seem like he knows how to handle it, but he seems to be having a good time, at least.

“Hey. You did really, really good. You killed it. I mean it.” You lean on the merch table and smile up at him.

Rodrick’s eyes are sparkling, and his smile is somehow bigger than before.

“You liked us?”

“I loved you guys. Everyone did. They're totally gonna have you back.”

He looks like he might cry.

"Hey, don't I get a shirt? Wasn't that part of our deal?"

Rodrick thinks hard, finally remembering.

"Oh yeah!" He shouts.

He ducks down under the table and rifles through a big box. You lean over and tell him your size. He looks deeply focused.

He finally resurfaces, and holds up the shirt, triumphantly. You take it and sling it over your arm.

"Thanks," you smile, "I'll wear it all the time."

He beams.

You hold out your hand, and he hesitates for a second before grabbing it.

“You wanna come stand with me? The next band is up.”

Rodrick’s heart soars.

You lead him to the middle of the crowd, where three other people are gathered, talking.

“This is my band: Maureen, Jessica, and Eddie.”

Rodrick is seeing double at this point, but he smiles and waves. He thinks he sees a girl with ridiculously long black hair, a girl with very short green hair, and a guy with little round glasses.

“Good set,” the guy gives him a fist bump.

Before they can talk any more, a microphone squeals. Everyone in the crowd is at attention. Rodrick blinks to try and focus in on the stage; the next band has set up a giant, inflatable palm tree and some yard flamingos. They're all dressed for the pool, it seems like. Big, bright board shorts and floaties. The singer is barefoot, and has a megaphone in hand.

“May I have your attention please, may I have your attention please,” his distorted voice comes through the megaphone, “The president of the United States is an insect! All your lives are a lie!”

The next few minutes are a blur of sound and color. Rodrick can’t process anything that’s happening in front of him. The music is weird, but good. Messy. The words don’t make any sense. His body is starting to sway uncontrollably, and he’s worried he might topple over.

His shoulder bumps yours, and you look up. He doesn’t look so good. You grab his hand again and lead him out of the crowd, all the way to the front patio, stopping to grab a water on the way.

Cool air hits Rodrick’s face, and he feels at ease. You help him into a low metal chair, and he stares up at you, helplessly.

“Are you good?” You push his hair up, away from his forehead, and hand him the cup of water.

“That was a lot,” he breathes, dazed.

“Chug that water, you’ll feel better,” you lean on the railing next to his chair, “and no more booze, big boy.”

“I thought I was baby boy,” Rodrick slurs, smirking.

“I think you’ve transcended that term,” you laugh, “unless you want to be baby boy.”

“What if I do?”

“You’re so weird,” you give his chair a little kick.

He sticks out his arm to catch your leg, and chugs the whole water in one go.

He lifts your leg a little higher, slinging it over his shoulder. You’re speechless. That’s pretty smooth.

"You said something nice about me," he slurs in a sing-song voice, "Mike told me."

"Oh yeah? What did I say?"

Rodrick thinks hard. What was it again?

"Something about... spirits? And ice cream."

"Okay, buddy." You shush him, "Just take some deep breaths."

It’s kinda nice, just sitting with him in silence. The last bit of daylight is leaving, and everything is shrouded in a faint blue.

“I think I like you,” he says quietly, not looking at you.

“I think you’re drunk. Get back to me in an hour.”

“Can I like you in an hour?” He holds your leg a little tighter.

“Go nuts,” you chuckle.

You don’t move your leg, though.

You sit together until the set ends, and people start to file out onto the patio.

“You wanna go back in? Your friends are probably worried.” You bounce your leg a little to get his attention.

“Yeah. I have to pee so bad.”

Another trans-am’s wrapped itself around a telephone pole

“I ain't drunk, officer, I just fell getting out of my car.”

Don't worry about it, son. We were that way when we were young!

You've got all the skills to make a damn good business man!

Rodrick stares at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, breathing deep. He feels a lot better after some fresh air and the longest piss of his life.

A stall door opens, and a familiar face shows up next to his.

“Heffley? Shit, that really is you.”

Bryan Kent is a bonafide asshole with a football scholarship, who'd made Rodrick’s life a living hell back home. He really doesn't feel like reconnecting right now.

“Yep. It's me.”

Rodrick turns to leave, but Bryan blocks the door.

“You're not even gonna say hi, diner dork?”

“Fuck off, Bryan. I'm not in the mood.”

Bryan pushes him, and Rodrick feels all that old rage bubbling up. He's still a little wobbly on his feet.

“Did the cops ever catch you for what you did?” Bryan takes a step towards Rodrick. He feels all the blood leave his face.

“Actually, one of my buddies from back home just passed police academy. You wanna come back to our table and put in a little confession?”

“Fuck off,” he pushes Bryan back hard, sending him right into the door.

You're waiting outside the bathroom, and starting to get just a little worried. One of Rodrick’s bandmates- Ward, you're pretty sure- is still by their merch table.

“Hey,” you smile at him, “Rodrick went into the bathroom kind of a long time ago. He was pretty wrecked, and I'm starting to get worried. Could you…?”

Ward is around the table before you can even finish your sentence.

“Don't worry, I got him.”

As Ward opens the bathroom door, another guy walks out, laughing.

“What the fuck?” Ward yells.

You come up behind him and see Rodrick, lying on the floor, face bloody. Your mouth twists into a sneer. Fucking frat boys.

You march to the front of the bar, and lean in towards Jimbo’s ear.

“Him. Out.” You point at the offender, who's still flexing his busted knuckles like a jackass. Like it's something to show off.

“Had a feeling.” Jimbo sighs, standing up.

Rodrick’s head is pounding.

He opens his eyes to see Ward, looking devastated.

“Dude, what happened? Can you get up?”

“Fucking… Bryan Kent,” he coughs out.

Ward helps him to his feet and hands him a bundle of paper towels. Rodrick dabs at his bloody nose and lip in the mirror.

Of course. Of fucking course one of those assholes would show up tonight, of all nights.

He takes a few moments to just stand there and recover.

“That was fucked up.” Ward breaks the silence.

Rodrick just nods.

They emerge from the bathroom and there's what looks to be a full on brawl at the front of the bar. Rodrick sees you walking quickly towards him, eyes wide.

“Are you okay? Jeez, look at your lip.”

You bring your hand to his face and take a closer look. It doesn't look like he needs stitches or anything, but his bottom lip is swollen, with a dark line in the middle. Blood is quickly drying up in one of his nostrils.

Rodrick jumps a little, and suddenly feels a whole lot better under your gentle touch. He gets lost for a second, just looking down at your worried face.

“I shouldn't have let you in there alone, I'm so sorry.” You murmur.

He smiles, but a yell from up front brings him back to reality.

“It’s cool, I'm fine. What's going on up there?”

“Well, we asked your... acquaintance to leave, and he didn't want to. And he's got friends.”

“Should we go up and help?” Ward clenches his fist, smiling slightly.

Rodrick’s other bandmates have joined the circle.

“I'd stay out of it, they've got it.”

You all observe as Jimbo drags Bryan out the front door by his ear. A second drunken dickhead is yelling I'm a police officer! Get off me! as a second, equally huge guy hauls him off.

Rodrick notices Heather following them out, rolling her eyes.

“Are we all good?” Someone from the stage asks into a microphone.

Oh yeah, there's still a show going on.

You all shrug, and head into the crowd together.

You take Rodrick's hand again, and give it a little squeeze. He turns to look at you, and smiles.

"Are you really okay?" You yell over the music.

"I'm really okay." He squeezes your hand back.

"Promise?"

"Promise."

#sorry if this is too long lmao #im having fun #rodrick heffley #rodrick heffley x reader #rodrick x reader #rodrick heffley fanfic #doawk rodrick #Spotify

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