#my man with a dumb stache | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

the-iceni-bitch · 3 years

Text

I Long to Be

Pairing: Mr Freezy x hit woman!reader (kitten), Officer Bill x hit woman!reader (PG only for now)

Words: ~2.1k

Summary: Your new dynamic has Bobby ready to explode.

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content (fingering, over the pants hand job, dry humping, mentions of oral and penetrative sex), emotional manipulation, reader is a massive bitch, slightly subby Bobby (what?!?!), cheating adjacent, domestic violence as foreplay, inappropriate behavior at a funeral, gossipy neighbors, SMUT!!!! 18+ ONLY!!!

A/N: This is mostly just setting the stage for the next arc I’m gonna do with our murderers but whoo boy are you sluts in for a treat! Sorry for inflicting the stache on you, but I’m just gonna lean into it.

I am no longer doing taglists so if you want to stay up to date on all the latest filth, follow my sideblog @the-iceni-library and turn on notifications!!!

You moaned softly when Bobby pulled you back against his chest, the hand that wasn’t digging into your tit buried knuckle deep in your cunt from behind as he stroked your walls slowly.

“No marks.” You ordered when you felt his teeth scrape over your pulse, ignoring the snarl he shot you through the mirror before settling for licking a thick stripe up the side of your neck. “Don’t fucking pout at me, pretty sure even those dumb fucks out there would notice if I walked out there with a hickey. Control yourself.”

“You need to quit being a fucking bitch.” He growled when you squeezed his cock before starting to stroke it through his slacks again. “It’s been five days, if I don’t feel that warm snatch wrapped around me soon, I’m gonna fucking kill someone.”

“Then you’ll just have to wait even longer, Bobby. I told you, we’re gonna drill some fucking self control into you.” You rolled your hips into his hand when his palm ground into your clit, dropping your head back against his shoulder and purring when you felt his cock throbbing under your palm. “Plus, I’m still pissed at you for the unbelievable pile of bull shit I had to dig you out of.”

“But… fuck, kitten.” He buried his face in your hair to cover his groan when you squeezed him again, bucking his hips into your grip and tugging softly at your nipple as you brought him towards his peak. “I fucking need it. You can just suck on the tip a little, just tide me over, I’m fucking dying.”

“You’re fucking dramatic, I’m still letting you come, so quit being a bitch.” You felt warmth bloom under your hand and smirked at him, your pussy sucking on his fingers as he started fucking them into you harder until you came with a broken sob.

“You goddamn cunt.” He looked furious when you pulled away from him, growling when you wrenched out of his grip to straighten your dress out. “I swear to god, you keep fucking holding out on me and I’m gonna split you in half in front of those cunts until you’re bleeding and begging me to stop.”

“No you’re not.” You shoved your tits back into your dress and did up the buttons. “You’re gonna play the grieving husband and father for as long as I tell you, and once I feel like the fucking heat has died down enough, maybe then you can get your dick wet. But until that happens, you’ll just have to settle for hands and dry humping. Now shut up and try to look wrecked.”

He didn’t have to try, he was wrecked. Dealing with your constant teasing without being able to actually fuck you had him feeling like his nerves were frayed to the limit, and topping that off with having to play the tormented widower was testing the self control you were adamant he exercise. There hadn’t even been any jobs for him to redirect his pent up rage, so he was stuck settling for furiously jerking himself every night as he longed for your perfect, warm cunt.

You gave him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder before opening the door and heading back out to the wake, not bothering to fix your face as it fit the narrative that Bobby had been comforting you while you cried yourself out. With how haggard he was, your stupid cunt neighbors had no problem accepting when you told them that you and Bobby had been supporting each other through this tough time.

Bobby’s jaw was clenched tight as he stood at the edge of his living room, barely paying attention to the twats who kept coming up to him to tell him how sorry they were for his loss while he watched you act like the perfect grieving friend. You shot him a glare when he tried to move closer to you, hiding your smirk behind your drink and leaning against the wall when he accepted another unwanted embrace like a good little widower.

“Hi, Suzy?” You had to act quick to school your face when you turned and found the fucking cop who had flirted with you at the damn crime scene standing there, you had not expected to see him again.

“Officer Bill!” You caught Bobby start out of the corner of your eye, shooting him a glance to settle him before turning back to your surprising visitor. “Robert’s just over there, did you need to talk to him about something? I thought everything was closed.”

“It is, and please just call me Bill.” He gave you a nervous smile and stepped a little closer to you, fidgeting with his hands as he struggled with what to say to you. “I just… I couldn’t stop thinking about you and I know these things tend to put all the focus on the family but I wanted to make sure you were ok? Since she was your best friend, I’m sure things are hard.”

Oh shit. Your flirting had worked a little too well, this boy was sweet on you. It took some doing for you to fight the pleased smile that tried to spread across your face, especially when you caught Bobby glaring at you over the cop’s shoulder when the man reached and gave your arm a reassuring squeeze.

“It’s been so hard.” You gave a small sob and could have laughed when he drew you into his chest, burying your face in the warm planes of muscle as he did his best to comfort you. “I feel so alone now. I’d usually talk to Mary about this, but now I have no one. Maybe I could talk to Robert but he’s suffering so much worse than me, I don’t want to burden him any more.”

“God, you’re so sweet, honey.” You managed to disguise your snort as another sob, pressing your body close to his and trying not to grin when he settled his hands at the small of your back, “You can talk to me, Suzy.”

“Bill, you just met me.” This was working out great for you; a dumb cop who was already wrapped around your finger and a new way to piss off Bobby, what could be better? “I don’t want to take advantage of you.”

“Baby, no, never.” He gave you a soft smile when you lifted your head to meet his gaze, cupping your face in one massive palm and gently brushing his thumb over the curve of your cheek in an effort to soothe you. “I just wanna help, but we don’t have to do anything you don’t want, ok?”

“Okay.” You leaned into his cheek and sighed softly as you batted your eyelashes at him, it had been a while since you had played this game, but seems like you were still a fucking pro. “Thank you.”

“It’s my pleasure, darlin’.” You let him give your waist a squeeze before stepping back, your eyes finding Bobby’s and narrowing at the look of unbridled rage you found there until he was cowed. “There’s a little bakery near here if you wanna have some privacy.”

He nodded towards the gaggle of housewives that was watching you with interest while the rest of your neighbors started filtering home and you sighed, accepting his hand and letting him lead you towards the front door while you gave Bobby one more warning glance to keep him from doing something stupid. As soon as the door closed behind you the busybodies went crazy, whisper shouting at each other as they tried to keep some semblance of decorum while they packed up all the leftovers and helped Bobby clean up, or rather, did all the cleaning while Bobby started downing scorch like it was his job.

Thirty minutes later and he was finally alone, exhausted from all the unwanted hugs and sympathies he had to endure and wanting nothing more than to lose himself in you. But he couldn’t because you were still out with that fucking cop. He sulked in the chair at the front window, watching your house as he slowly drained the bottle of scotch and tried to keep himself from imagining what you might be doing with that fucker.

By the time the bastard’s car finally pulled up in front of your house an hour later, the bottle was empty, Bobby wallowing in a pool of self pity that he never would have admitted to and growling when he watched the officer help you out of the car and lead you to your front door with an arm around your waist. When he watched him give you a peck on the cheek he almost lost it, dropping the bottle and cursing when he heard it smash against the floor. At least you didn’t invite him inside, sending him on his way with a little wave before strolling into your house without a second glance.

Bobby waited a few minutes after the cocksucker pulled away before storming over to your place, barely keeping himself together until he was able to knock on your front door.

“Hey there, Bobby.” You gave him a wicked grin when you opened the door, stepping aside and letting him in.

“The fucking cop?” He was itching to slap you, or maybe choke you, he was absolutely furious.

“Bobby, Bobby, Bobby.” You shoved him a little and snorted when he stumbled slightly. “Drunk again. What the fuck am I gonna do with you?”

“Fuck me.” He was so drunk he didn’t even care anymore, grabbing you by the back of your neck and dragging your face to his until his lips were devouring yours.

“Jesus, did I fucking break you, Bobby?” You chuckled when he growled in response and shoved you against the wall, grinding his hardened cock into your hip as he tried to wrap his hands around your throat. “No fucking marks! God, still haven’t learned, have you?”

Your slap sent him reeling, the only thing that kept him upright being your tight grip on his collar as you watched him with mock concern. He tried to snarl at you when you gripped his jaw in one hand, shaking his head with a demeaning tut before leaning forward to bite at his lips.

“You need to dump that fucking cop, kitten.” He purred into your mouth when you wound one leg around his hip and dragged him into you, letting him rock against you slowly with a low moan as his dick twitched in his pants.

“And you still need to fucking control yourself, instead of charging over to your single neighbor’s house like a bat out of hell right after your wife’s funeral when you know every fucking busybody in the neighborhood is gonna be watching us like a bunch of hawks.” You let him lift your other leg to wrap around him, pressing you into the wall and moaning into your neck as he ground right against your clit. “I’ll make you a deal Bobby; you manage to keep that temper of yours reined in and the neighbors off our backs for a whole month while I make that sweet, dumb cop fall in love with me, and I’ll let you do whatever he does to me, so you don’t combust.”

“You’re such a bitch.” His breath against your neck was desperate, the rhythm of his hips writhing against you growing frantic as you both neared your ends. “You let him fuck you and I don’t care, kitten, I’ll fucking kill him.”

“Aww, don’t worry baby, it’ll just be the tip.” You laughed when he snarled into your throat, forcing himself to pull back before he sank his teeth into you so you didn’t decide to torture him even more. “Look at you being so good, and I didn’t even mention your reward.”

“What is it?” Christ, you were just whipping men left and right today.

“Once I get that moron to give me his whole heart, I’ll let you help me break it.” He hit you at the perfect angle and you shuddered with bliss, your release soaking the front of his slacks as his own filled his briefs. “But in a way that keeps him wrapped around my little finger so we can use him if we need to.”

“Ugh, fuck. Fine.” He sighed defeatedly into your neck. “But if I haven’t had my dick sucked once by this time in two weeks, I’m getting a fucking toy.”

326 notes · View notes

sweetsbfreex · 3 years

Text

my baby, my baby

brought to u by me watching IW for the millionth time

Summary: You ask Steve for one thing before the fight against Thanos (IW), but for the first time in however long he denies you of fulfilling this wish.

Warnings: language?

Pairing: Nomad, Bf!Steve x thanos daughter!reader

He was manning the quinjet, not all the way true. Sam was flying the jet to Wakanda, Steve slumped in his seat beside Sam, in deep thought. His chin is set into his palm, his arm sitting up on the armrest, and his palm covering half of his mouth. Looking further down his leg was jittering steadily.

What would happen next was a pretty big deal, none of you on the jet knew what could go wrong. So obviously tensions were at an all time high in this cooped up jet.

You rise up from your seat between Wanda and Nat. Walking yourself behind Steve’s chair. Your pointer finger taps his embellished shoulder, separating him from his apprehensive thoughts. He looks up at you and the creases that were once prominent in his forehead evaporated.

You don’t utter anything, only nudging your head behind you.

Follow me to the back.

Is what’s reciprocated when he too gets up from his seat, letting Sam know he’ll be up front in a second. Once you turn, he follows you down the small aisle to the side “room” away from all the prying ears.

Finally.

You step into the room first. You weren't going to lie, your heart was beating with so much force and it only grew as he walked past you into the room. You close the door behind you, turning, so you're facing Steve's attentive figure.

You only smile at him to some extent, prompted to show there were no ill intentions to asking him back here. When you see how nervous he looks, as you take his hand seating the both of you to a bench against the wall.

Your knees tenderly touch. He clears his throat coercing you to go on, raising an eyebrow in confusion.

“You alright doll?” he asks you, in a gentle manner. Taking the already linked palms shifting it from your lap to his. His other hand blanketing your combined hands.

“I’m okay. Are you?” you ask the question hesitantly, raising your spare hand to move aside the hair that fell over and veiled his eyes. You desperately wanted to make sure you got a good look at his face. You loved his face.

His cheeks go plump in a charming smile, and his hand squeezes yours back.

His hair was long. Longer than you would’ve ever imagined Steve would let it be. Either way you loved every inch of the gold locks. Yet, everytime you told him how much you loved it, despite his insecurity and slight annoyance with it. He'd always fall into a rampage down memory lane. Telling you how his late mother would've hounded him about the upkeep of his hair.

You adored that about him too. Loved, that he loved so hard and so full. He’d never forget the ones he loved no matter what.

“I’m swell, you don’t need to worry about me” he tells you.

You didn’t believe him one bit and you weren’t going to push him about it. You knew how he was...stubborn as ever. But, it was also ,by and large, your job to worry about him–– after loving him of course. Contrary to what he would say (Which was vice-versa.)

“We’re gonna be okay...okay? But I have something to ask you. And you can’t get mad.”

“I’m not promising that, but we won’t shout. We’ll talk it out–– whatever it is”

It was the best you were going to get from him and time was closing in on you guys being able to be like this, anway.

“I know how you are, but this is a really critical thing we're fighting for here. So, unless I'm in some type of grave danger. I don’t want you worrying about me on the field. No matter what...Make sure he doesn’t get that stone.” Your voice lets you down towards the end, starting to get scratchy and low.

He stands up in no time. His hands going to his belt, then to his hips, he finally raises one hand to run against his beard.

His facial hair, another thing in the endless things you loved about Steve Rogers.

When the stubble he usually shaves away kept growing into a full beard, it surprised you both. You in a hot kind of way, he became more adoring by day when decided to stop shaving.

You walked in on him one day. He was facing the scratched up mirror in a bathroom in a dingy hotel room. Running his fingers against his face, the other clutching onto the edge of the counter. Tilting his head back and to, eyes shifting as he looked over his face. It was another part of the effect of the serum he didn’t expect would happen.

Telling you a story as he wandered down memory lane again. How he had problems growing stubble as a sickly kid–– so behind on puberty. He even watched Bucky grow his first “stache” at sixteen, but that came to an abrupt stop when Bucky’s mother made him shave it off.

Steve thought It was weird to think that he could now also.

You were still sitting on the bench. Swiveling your body so you were facing your boyfriend, looking up at his fidgeting build with care.

Feeling like a child waiting for their parents to dispute whatever impending punishment they would grant.

“Why would you ask me that?” he finally, finally disrupts his silence. Scoffing at the offensive question.

He doesn’t look at you with anything negative, only confusion.

“Because. I don’t want you jumping in front of whatever it is in front of me...I know him, he’s my dad. He’ll do anything to get what he wants, even if it means I die.”

When Steve told you that it was actually Bruce calling and told you what he said. He looked at you baffled when the shirt you were about to put on dropped from your grasp.

Once you told him you had knowledge of Thanos and how you knew him, there was a pregnant silence in the air.

If anything it filled the rage towards Thanos in Steve even more, by the time you finished.

“Are you listening to yourself?” he questions you in disbelief, lips stuck in a sneer.

“Please. Just please, angel.” you maintain.

You don’t answer either of his questions and he truly hates that. He stays silent for a bit watching your seated figure, looking up at him with the saddest eyes you’ve ever given him. His puzzled eyes shift down to your bobbing leg and your hands wringing together with so much speed and anguish.

He could probably throw up right now.

And when he shifts his eyes up again, you keep that same look on your face waiting for him to say anything.

He sighs dejectedly, dropping his hands to his side, and walking himself back over to you. He sits closer to you than before. Extending a gloved hand to caress your cheek before fixing the flyaways from your sleek ponytail.

“I can’t. You’ll always be my priority, and I won’t promise something like that sweetheart” he tells you this languidly. His thumb starts to rub circles against your cheekbone, to calm you down, when he catches the way your eyes widen at his admission.

“Steve!” your voice breaks. So shocked, you can’t hold back the tears that build up and fall slowly over your face.

You couldn’t believe this. He’s supposed to love you. Time and time again he’d always remind you how much he loves you and how he’d do anything for you–– too hard to say no to you, his words. Thinking this over you pull your face away from his hold, looking down at your taut hands. This wasn’t a silly death wish. You had to make sure your father didn’t get what he desired, no matter what.

He hates having to watch you cry, but he doesn’t have much of a choice now. He needs to stand his ground, there was no way he would be arguing about this. And he does this, grabbing your face with a light hand, so you were face to face again.

"I love you so much. And if I have to choose between letting you die and Thanos losing. Or you living and watching the universe crumble, you know exactly what I'm gonna choose. I'm not losing you, not if I have anything to do with it"

Albeit how dumb it sounded, there is no notable instance in his life where’d let you perish over him.

“You’re not thinking this through” you hiccup.

“It’s you, isn’t it? There’s not much to think about” he smiles at you and as you look at him you can see his eyes glazing over.

His statement only causes you to cry more. You feel nothing but the pain in your heart and the repositioning of your body. It takes you a moment to realize you’re settled on his thighs sideways. His well built arm warmly wraps around your shoulder, your temple rests against his shoulder, and his lips are placing light kisses to the crown of your head.

You incline your head, “I love you too much” you say in an awed whisper, raising a hand to twirl in the strands at the back of his collar. Following that, you let your hand spread across the back of his neck pulling him down for a kiss.

“After this we’re done okay? We have our pardon and are going to buy whatever house you want to get. I’m gonna buy you the prettiest engagement ring money can buy, Gonna get whatever animals you want,” you chuckle at that part.

If there was one thing Steve learned while living incognito with you is that you’d save any animal if you were able to. Always stopping whenever you passed by any animal in need in the drary streets. Looking up at Steve, who’d always have to remind you that neither of you could give it the life it deserves right now. Opting to only go to the nearest convenience store to buy whatever safe animal food in sight.

His hand immediately clutches your face to wipe away the tears that fell without pattern. His smile grows fonder when you do the same. “‘Can paint the house whatever we decide...maybe even get a house big enough to fit the kids we’ll have?” he tells you the last part in such a timid manner, bearing one of his hands to clutch yours. His thumb running over your knuckles at full tilt.

The only thing you were able to give him was a stunned look. So shocked you were unable to react like a normal person.

You squeeze his hand tight only being able to stutter a “really?”

“Of course. I want to have a bunch of small Rogers with you, wreaking havoc around our house” he admits this to you, carrying out such strong eye contact. If his hand didn’t slither down your back, supporting you up and grounding you, you’d jump in glee.

Fuck. Neither of you had talked about this, but you were glad that you both were on the same page about his. You felt terrified but in a good way, wanting to wholly get this over with and start this dream life with Steve.

“And this is all gonna happen, because everything is going to go well. We’re gonna win, I don’t want you thinking like that or asking me something like that ever again. Thanos will never be on our list of priorities ever again.”

“I’m sorry, baby. I can’t wait to start that life with you” you respond, winding your arms around his neck, crashing your lips to his with force.

He pulls away without notice to place hasty kisses to your cheek, loving the giggles you emitted. Even so, the energy in the room shifts too soon when Sam knocks on the door. Steve allows him entrance.

“Sorry to interrupt, but we’re about to land Cap”

Steve responds by nodding his head once, stiffly. Letting him know he’d be out in a second.

You get off of his thighs, so the both of you were standing chest to chest. He claps your worried face. Pulling you into him with little force, so his lips could fall to your forehead, nose, and lips.

“Remember what I said and be safe, I love you”

“I love you” you recite, bringing his hand down to kiss his covered palm.

With that he envelops you in his arm, his cheek resting against the top of your head. Both of you breathing each other in. Your shoulders relaxing at his loving touch.

He’d do whatever needed to keep you safe and if it ended in his death, then so be it. You’d do the same for him in a heartbeat, there was no point in either of you arguing this one out.

––––

Everyone was tired, it seemed like this fight only dragged on with the never-ending monsters. But, with the help of Thor (of course) it seemed like things were only getting positive from there. With the way he rendered lightning, destroying things into dust, you were ready to end this once and for all.

And when a cloud of grey smoke appeared out of thin air, and a large titanian appeared. You knew this would either be the ending or the beginning of all these troubles.

“That’s him” you falter, turning to Steve. You give him a quick once over, nothing the way he eyed your father. A menacing, scary look on his face and the furrow of his eyebrows only grow.

“We have eyes on Thanos” he says into the intercom.

It’s like time stands still for a few seconds, no one moves a muscle. You haven't seen this man in years. You feel as if he doesn't recognize who you are as he glances over everyone, like they're roaches in his kitchen.

Yet, in a blur, everyone takes their chance on Thanos. Trying their hardest to somehow, someway take this Titanian down. Bruce gets thrown with a shout, Branches entwine Nat, and Sam drops from the air smoothly.

At some point you hear the grunt of Steve, who somehow gets some punches in, his hands clutching the gauntlet. He shouts from the hefty weight and in a swift motion is stock-still on the ground from the punch he endures.

“Steve!”

Without a choice you run towards Thanos, your adrenaline kicking in. Kicking in punching only to use your hands to grasp around the metal. You knew towards the end; you were no match for him.

“Please! Please don’t do this. Dad please I’m begging you” you plead profusely, but he only looks down at you emotionless. “Please, please, please” you cry, your head hangs low for a bit before you raise it up again. “This won’t fix anything! You–– you…JUST TAKE IT OFF” you scream, knuckles colliding with the gold.

You try so hard to think of anything to turn his mind, but he only looks at you like a stranger. Not the little girl he recruited and used to look at with some kind of affection. His type of affection, if you could even title it that, affection.

Sure, he raised you to be a ruthless killer and thief, but you’d do anything in this key moment to change his crooked mind.

“You don’t get to call me that again. You chose your path...I always knew you’d be the one to let me down the most” he says all this with so much venom.

You cry as you're lifted in the air, by his gauntlet hand, and thrown against the bark of a tree.

You're in a daze. The only things securing you back is the hand against your cheek and a booming, choked up "no". Hearing it a distance away.

You open your eyes to see Steve in front of you, your name on his lips almost incessantly. But when you open them, your eyes quickly move to Thor. Who’s a few feet away from the two of you, shocked and angry. The remnant of smoke in the air. You knew he did it.

“We lost?” you ask Steve, tears already forming in your eyes, as he carefully lifts you to his feet.

He doesn’t get the chance to answer you, though.

“Steve…?” It’s Bucky, You both look towards him to see him fall slowly, disappearing into a brown dust.

You both look on, shocked all while Steve tries to drag himself and your weak body to Bucky. But it’s already too late.

“Buck?!” Steve calls out, but there’s no answer.

You watch on in disorder, stomach plummeting with every second that pasts. Your eyes catch Wanda looking onto Vision's body in sorrow and as you do, she turns into brown dust. It was frightening and you were speechless. So much happening around you, you weren’t sure where to look. You weren’t who was going away.

The hand against your spine, holding you up, starts to feel faint and a headache you had suffered from earlier comes back, but ten times stronger.

“My head hurts” you tell him, your words come out slowly as your mouth starts to feel numb. You drop your head to his shoulder. “Stevie...I can’t feel your hands” you blubber, chest heaving as your breathing picks up. Everything was happening so, so fast.

He lifts your head, “Hey, you’re alright sweetheart, you took a hard hit. Just a bit banged up, gotta stay awake in case it’s a concussion” he reassures you.

You don’t believe him and when you look down at your right hand to see it crumbling away little by little. You lift your wrist up, hand gone. You look down to see the brown dust below your view.

You didn’t want to go. You had merely planned your dream future with him. It wasn’t fair your father would be the one to rip that away from you.

“No. No, you’re alright, stop that” he condemns, bringing your other hand to his bruised lips imperatively. Watching as it climbs up and up, half of your shoulder already gone.

“I’m scared. I love you so much Steve”

“I love you so much doll, feel like we’ve been saying it all day” he tries to joke, eyes roaming all over your face. He had to make sure he had your face recognized to a t, even if it was in a manner of pain.

And you do the same. You weren’t sure where you were going. Were you even dying?! You couldn’t tell, all you knew was Steve and some of your friends wouldn’t be where you were going.

You laugh despondently, low, and mirthlessly knowing how much he needed that laugh at the moment.

“No. I’m gonna––” you start, but never get to finish, because at that moment. In a flash, he’s left with the sight of the soot falling in a sway, like leaves tumbling to the ground. Staring at him gloved palms to see nothing of you there any longer.

He does nothing but stand there for a few minutes, recollecting the exchange. Not only was his best friend gone, but so was his best girl.

He had one fucking job. Keep you safe at all times. Not only did he let the whole universe down, he let you down. You were gone. He can only think about the moment you both had on the jet, telling you, you had nothing to worry about. Because you guys were going to win and now she is gone. He let you down in the worst possible way imaginable. You were gone…

He repeats this to himself, losing hope each time that you would be back in just a second.

He turns around to see his friends observing him and once he notices that Sam is no longer among the group it only increases his agony.

“Cap?” Nat mumbles.

“FUCK!” he breaks. Ripping the gloves off his hand before he sets himself against the ground–– his body feeling heavy. His head is in his hand, body heaving roughly as he cries quietly.

Everyone is stunned and takes a step back to give his face, not remembering the last time they’ve seen him this broken or the last he’s had an outburst resulting in a curse word.

He isn’t sure how he’s supposed to live with this guilt or without you by his side. In spite of that, there was no way in hell he wasn’t going to try and find a way to bring you back.

– – – –

realized while writing thing i am not creative...this (beginning) was literally a scene

if you enjoyed pls don’t forget to reblog or give feedback if ur up to it <3

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #avengers fanfiction #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x fem!reader #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers angst #steve rogers x you #chris evans x reader #marvel fanfiction #captain america x reader #captain america #captain america fanfiction #steve rogers oneshot #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x avenger reader

400 notes · View notes

into-september · 3 years

Text

ROCKETEAR

- This incidental revival of dinos is very Disney Ducks comics-esque

- BOB ROTH HAS BLESSED THIS EPISODE IT WILL BE GOOD FOR SURE

- Least furtive camo ever

- In a weird piece of characterisation being drawn here, Alya’s mindless excitement about Rena Rouge’s presence very much mirrors her earlier eagerness to reveal Ladybug’s true identity. It says a lot about the character writing here that THIS is the most specific this show has gotten about Alya’s personality beyond “excuberant BFF”

- and once again: the storyline which took Chloé five episodes was given to Alya in one. The storyline which took Marinette some three our four seems set to be resolved in one with Alya. The second one: Marinette is the protagonist and of course her stories should take up more space than Alya’s. The first one? Is the reason the dumb Chloé stans exist.

- Alya too is a bad liar and Nino was not hard to convince and Adrien is clearly much too used to turning down girls he’s disappointing in love oh my god this is brilliant

- I hereby decree that all fanart of future!Nino now has him with a ‘stache

- the film noir homages happening here are A+ and all but like kiiiiiind of creepy in context like. Talk to the girl don’t stake her out, jeez, but then we wouldn’t have an episode, would we

- poor Adrien asked for none of this

- oh nino NO

- jail for Nino for One Thousands Years!!!

- Like I GUESS he’s just a simple man (give a hoot if you know what I’m referring) but oh my god of all the dumb reasons to be revealing the knowledge that can lead the resident magical terrorist into possession of tools for reshaping reality. THIS was Su-Han was on about, wasn’t it

- oh my god the things going through Adrien’s head RN and they’ll pretty clearly be leading into some further Syren-esque sulks. But mate, wasn’t it kind of a hint that they know each other IRL when they went on and on during Hero’s Day? Oh adrien

- and oh my god their body language during this entire exchange

- have we ever seen Adrien do the sad tranformation before?

- No Chloé in the art room today and I sure have my priorities in order

- Repeat of the NYC special here, huh

- way to have your dirty laundry aired all over the metropole

- I am having feelings about this suddenly seemingly inherent ability to reject akumas because of being reasoned with and let is just suffice to say that if that was weird with Alya it is downright cheap with Nino. Though admittedly Hawkie doesn’t seem to have been trying very hard either - with Alya he was obviously in pain as it happened, yet here he just shrugs and does the until next time Ladybug bad guy laugh

- And here, then, is the question of just how this is going to mean something: Three people have rejected akumas out of their trust in someone else. They were the ones with the superpowers set in the middle of the Order’s miraculous box: The fox, the turtle, and the bee. Is Zoé going to get this storyline too, or is Chloé’s now rotting love of Ladybug going to resurface in some way in the future?

- Okay but if Nino still needs a magical charm, does that mean Alya got one too?

- oh my god but what if Nino goes “oh btw Ladybug, I told Adrien Agreste my identity” and Marinette just INSTANTLY EXPECTS CAT BLANC 2.0 TO HAPPEN because as far as she knows, the inciting accident of that was “Adrien Agreste knows and he couldn’t shut up about it”

- ooooh new Adrien ad

- There’s this saying that what two people know is a secret and what three people know is all over town and with the way secret identities are being spilled left and right this episode, well

#let's watch cartoons #miraculous ladybug #ml spoilers #mlb spoilers

30 notes · View notes

deniigi · 3 years

Note

Jack and the other folks at the gym; how they met, what their relationships are like, how they are with Matt etc.

For you, anon. I have an old fic that answers all of these questions.

It’s written from the perspective of Jack’s best friend and sparring partner Rudy DeLuca.

Title: Tape

Summary: There were two generations of devils at Fogwell’s Gym

Warnings: child abuse, physical abuse, references to drug use and suicide/suicide attempts, and foster care

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

There was a famed baby at the gym at the moment and Rudy was scheming how to get it into his arms when the old man caught him leaning on the front desk and told him that he had two whole grandbabies waitin’ for him at home.

Matty took that moment to fly in from the back room where he’d been harrassing the shit out of the new ‘clerk’ (as Fogwell called him) to ask if Tina had finally popped.

Rudy was caught off guard by the image of Tina beating the shit out of Matt for that and then by the wave of nostalgia that the kid’s sudden enthusiasm bought.

“Well, look who’s here?” he drawled instead, slowly turning around towards the beast. “Where you been, neighbor?”

Matt beamed at him.

He looked good.

Happy.

Far, far too happy.

Rudy squinted.

Matt waited a beat, then scrambled back into staff entrance and knocked shit over on the desk back there in his haste to go hide behind Fogwell.

Uh-huh.

Yeah.

That’s right, troublemaker, go hide behind Grandpa. He’ll protect you, you little shit.

The new gym baby was a full two months old. He was fat and grumpy and his papa’s pride and joy already. Rudy managed to snag an opportunity to get the thing into his arms when Bert and Kenny came in, signaling for the youths that the senior citizen shift had begun.

Fogwell was the most distinguished of the senior citizens, but, of course, he would wait his turn until the rest of them had finished lavishing attention upon his fiftieth great-grandbaby.

Baby’s papa was proud as a peacock.

“His name’s Henry,” he told Rudy, while Henry wrinkled his nose and eyes up at him.

Henry.

Ehn.

Terrible name.

“He looks like a John,” Rudy said.

Papa, who Rudy had forgotten the name of at least six times since he’d joined the gym, laughed.

“I thought about callin’ him Jack,” he said. “But my girl drew the line there.”

Ah.

Right.

This was that kid.

Kenny had gathered everyone into a group huddle in the changing room the other week to explain seriously how they all needed to avoid the fuck out of this guy. He’d said in a whisper that the guy was one of them people into vintage shit.

A hipster, he meant.

A fuckin’ hipster in their midst.

God, there were more and more of them in the gym every day.

Rudy lifted an eyebrow at baby Henry.

He didn’t deserve to be called Henry. He really did look more like a John. But, for the sake of the dead, Rudy decided that he’d squint for as hard and long as it took for him to become a Henry.

---

Fogwell’s had been legendary back in the day for producing pro boxers out of good-for-nothin’, trouble-makin’ guys with no other prospects.

Fogwell was that general from Mulan who made men out of boys (and the occasional girl. And the most recent kid who said that they weren’t a guy or a gal and if anyone wanted to throw down about it, they were posting their number on the cork board by the front desk).

Back in Rudy’s youth, that had been appealing as hell. And so he’d had a swagger on into the place, thinking that maybe he would pop his guns a bit in Fogwell’s direction and get the polishing he needed to make enough money to buy his girl a ring.

On the upside, Fogwell had, in fact, noticed him. But the downside was that Rudy had had no fucking clue what that actually meant, and so three years later, he’d found himself smoking only twice a week instead of every day, drinking goddamn protein shakes, and doing a daily fuckin’ jog like a military brat.

Fogwell had no time for dumb shit. He didn’t care if you wanted to kill yourself slowly with whatever vice you picked from the basket, but if you walked into the ring with his name on your back, then you would disgrace that name on pain of divine retribution.

It was way easier just to get one step ahead of the guy’s nit-picking than to suffer his judgemental silence.

That had been Fogwell back in the day, and that was still Fogwell in the now.

But as with any force of nature, even if the old man had planted his feet and announced his intention to rest there in that place for the next two millenia, the world around him still carried on spinning around.

Fogwell’s wasn’t just a facility for churning out pros these days. It wasn’t just legendary, now.

It was a fuckin’ institution.

God help them.

They were a tourist destination. Ghost hunters, folks on buses, sports fans, teen girls with a mighty need for a vintage-lookin’ selfie. You name it. They pressed their noses up against the yellowed glass to watch the people inside break their bodies down to build them up into something money-making.

It wasn’t an unwarranted curiosity, to be fair.

Fogwell had produced twenty pro boxers in the last several decades who’d really made it. Like, really, really made it.

Bert was one of them—to literally every one of the senior citizens’ surprise.

Bert had been a empty-headed wise-guy with a porn-stache at best way back when. And like, don’t get Rudy wrong, he was still an empty-headed wise-guy. He was just an empty-headed wise guy with a head like a helmet and a whole lot of money now.

Not that you’d have known it from lookin’ at him.

Bless him.

He was paying college tuition for all his kids and he was helping the older ones vet kindergartens with tuition or what the fuck ever, doing all that he could so that those babies didn’t have to live life out of Kraft Mac ‘n Cheese boxes like him.

Bert had made it. That was the dream.

The dream was just that, though. A shot in the dark. A drop in a bucket. Kenny had done alright, just like Rudy had done alright. They’d had their ten minutes of time in the spotlight. Had made enough to get by. Had made enough to be comfortable in Hell’s Kitchen. To retire and become personal trainers or sports commentators or whatever the fuck opportunity jumped up in their faces.

A lot of fellas hadn’t made it, though. And then there were the Almosts.

Jackie had been an Almost, god rest his soul.

This new hipster kid at the gym with his baby had latched onto Jack’s image, found in old magazines and grainy footage, and had decided that that whole vibe fit the image that he wanted to live in.

It made Rudy sick. It made Kenny angry—hence the group huddle.

There were about seven of them left who’d both known Jackie and who still used the gym on the regular. Eight if you included Fogwell.

Nine if you included Matty.

Jesus fuckin’ help them.

This dumbass hipster kid didn’t even know who Matty was. Most of the newcomers didn’t. He was just some bright, perky blind guy to them. He was Center-Left-Second-Back bag. That was his bag.

And he was good.

He was a curiosity to the newcomers and the people pressed against glass—one of a handful of middle-weights in a sea of heavyweights. He didn’t look like everyone else. He wasn’t packing muscle like everyone else. He was lithe and coiled and looked, honestly, a little out of place to folks who didn’t know the gym as Home #2.

He was interesting to the newcomers mostly because he was 100% Fogwell’s favorite. Fogwell doted on him by ribbing him and bullying him viciously, by bumping into him and throwing him off mark left and right, and all the while, Matty just beamed.

The newbies thought he got preferential treatment because he was blind. But that wasn’t it. Matty got treated that way because that was how his grandpa told him he loved him.

---

Before Jake and Carlos and Omar and Matty, Jack had been Fogwell’s favorite up-and-coming rookie.

It had been no secret. Well. To most people.

Jack had been horrified when he’d found out.

No one wanted to be Fogwell’s favorite. That’s how you went pro whether you liked it or fucking not.

Jack had pleaded with Kenny for hours to take his place, but there was nothing that could be done. Jackie was the youngest and Jackie had come from a shit home life and Jackie would do anything and everything Fogwell told him to do because he was just that kind of sweet and respectful.

Fogwell could smell Jack’s lack of a father-figure on him like Chanelle No. 5.

He could smell it miles away.

Jack had actually been at the gym before Rudy had joined up. He’d been around since he was about seventeen. He’d come in on the heels of his big brother who wanted to go pro.

It quickly became apparent to Fogwell that Tom Murdock didn’t have what it took to be a boxer. He was just a bully. But that little brother of his, Tom’s punching bag, now he had some talent. He had the diligence and respect that the game, in Fogwell’s opinion, was severely lacking.

So Fogwell did what he did best and drove a wedge slowly between Tom and baby Jackie, separating the two of them so that he could get his mitts on Jackie and do something with him before Tom and his junkie sister took Jackie down with them.

Rudy had met Jack soon after Jack’s eldest brother had been arrested for murdering his wife and stepdaughter.

The kid was a wreck. He’d just turned 18.

He didn’t talk. He just fought and fought and fought until he cried and cried and cried. All on his own, from 5pm to 1am, at Center-Left-Second-Back.

Fogwell let him.

Fogwell came over to put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed when he finally dropped from exhaustion.

It was hard to watch.

The older guard at the time had bared their teeth and clenched their jaws as Jackie had pummeled his heart out against that bag.

No one could help him.

Everyone but Rudy, at that time, had seen the man he’d walked into the gym with. They’d seen this coming a mile away. And over a few days of that, it become clear to Rudy that Jack didn’t have a home to go back to that didn’t scream at him from morning until night. At that time, the gym for him was Home #1.

---

It took about a year, but Rudy eventually got to know this weeping, heartbroken boy from the worst side of the Kitchen.

Rudy learned from the others about the Murdocks.

They were sinners and drunkards and addicts, word had it. The police were always in and out of their rooms, taking one of the five kids or one of the parents to jail for some damn reason or another. Neighbors wasted their hard-earned money on phone calls to the police for domestic disputes and violence and so on and so on. Everyone on the streets said to be careful of the Murdocks, especially them boys.

They got the devil in ‘em.

But not Jackie, Rudy learned.

He was shy, bless him. He wasn’t suited to those others’ kind of life.

Rudy actually had felt, for the second time in his life, strong brotherly feelings around this kid. He and his own sister didn’t get on until someone threatened the other. Then it was no-holds-barred, bear-like feelings. Just them against the world.

But Jack was different. He had puppy eyes with a constant black one and perpetually chapped lips. It had never occurred to him that he could spend a buck buying chapstick. It had never occurred to him that he could have friends that he didn’t have to smile at until his face hurt.

He didn’t really get what it meant to have relationships with other people and for the first six months of their acquaintance, Jack refused to meet Rudy’s eye, much less say more than five words to him.

He was more than respectful.

He was skittish.

The other guys, who were happy to haze Rudy, warned him that he if so much as looked at that kid, Fogwell would break his bones and his career would be over before it even started.

It had definitely turned into a kind of spite thing.

Rudy had absolutely been that kind of shithead back then.

He’d started by offering to hold Jack’s bag while he worked out his aggression. That had been a mistake.

He’d caught Fogwell snickering at him about ten minutes into it, after trying and failing that whole time to find a way to plant his feet that would let him actually hold onto the bag.

Jack had noticed.

Jack had gotten flustered and freaked out bad enough that Rudy had been forced to leave him be or else he’d hyperventilate or go hide in the backroom in a cupboard or something in self-flagellation.

It took some practice and some muscle, but they got there in the end.

Jack was a great sparring partner because he did not fucking go down. It was like trying to fight a pine tree sometimes. He would, could, and did take hit after hit without batting an eye.

And when it was his turn for offense?

Rudy was well aware that he’d signed up to be a human punching bag, but this? This was a lot.

Fogwell critiqued the fuck out of Jack’s everything.

His form.

His posture.

His aim.

His drive.

His commitment.

His tape.

His fucking hair.

Jack thought he was like that with everyone.

Rudy loved that kid like a brother, but he wasn’t the brightest crayon in the box. Not by far.

That had become more clear when Kenny joined their mottley crew and, aggravatingly sharp, had taken to teasing Jack. That was more frustrating for Kenny than anyone else because Jackie didn’t get a single joke or jibe.

No, Jack didn’t know Seinfield. Or Friends. Or Charlie’s Angels. No, he didn’t know anything about cars. No, he didn’t know about physics or chemistry or math. What the fuck was English lit? Wait, what’s the difference between books and literature?

God.

Bless.

That.

Kid.

He wasn’t unintelligent, he just wasn’t academic.

He was sweet about it, though. The youngest of five, he had no choice but to be sweet because all his siblings called him hopeless and useless and stupid, so he had to be something and so pretty it was.

Rudy had never met someone who performed so well under pressure and around two years into their friendship and, suddenly privy to the full extent of Jack’s honestly horrific, borderline surreal upbringing, he finally got it.

But then along came Grace.

The Lord’s agent herself.

Jack was a good Catholic boy who saw a nun and dropped his eyes, but for some reason, this novice caught his gaze and he was gone.

He got dopey and dreamy the night after she and some friends had snuck out in their novice habits to see a load of guys in desperate need of the Lord hitting on each other.

It was tooth-decaying the way Jack swooned for that girl.

Her name was Margaret, she told him saucily at the church one street over from the one he’d grown up attending, but he could call her ‘Grace.’

Jack banged his melon on a locker a week later at the gym and the jolt make him realize that he was in love with her.

He cracked his head a second time with everyone watching him in a mix of pity, exhaustion, and indulgence and then scurried off to the bathroom to hyperventilate over a urinal.

“Someone go keep Baby M from drowning in a sink,” Horace Whalin, a professional beast at the start of his career, had sighed.

Everyone had looked right at Rudy.

---

Grace was the worst thing that could ever have happened to Jack.

Everyone at the gym knew it. Fogwell hated that girl with a cold passion.

She made Jack stupider than usual. Bolder than ever.

She made him think and made him question things and like, that was probably a good thing in terms of Jack’s life experience and mental health, but in terms of boxing?

Not good.

Fogwell was openly dreaming up schemes to break them up the day Jack came tearing into the gym and announced that he was getting married.

It took everything in Rudy not to start cackling right then and there. The entire gym’s necklines bulged with the effort not to fucking laugh. Fogwell went silent and blank.

He’d waved Jack in close and and when he came—because he would always come to Fogwell, no matter what—the old man set a hand on Jack’s shoulder and told him that if he brought that woman into the gym he’d kill him.

Jack stared up at him and said that they were getting married in a church, Coach. Why would he bring her to the gym?

At that point, it would have taken a saint not to laugh and the gym was full of only sinners.

---

Grace was the worst thing that had ever happened to Jack, but Matty was by far, the best thing.

Fogwell, after being vindicated upon Jack and Grace’s abrupt and tragic separation, found that Matt could be used as a motivator for his up-and-comer.

Matty, of course, played the part beautifully.

He was unfairly cute with those delicate, whispy red locks and them big hazel eyes. He was bubbly and chatty. An unrelenting troublemaker. Just a barrel of laughs.

Fogwell took to letting Jack put Matty’s carrier on a bench next to the ring or on one of the metal bleachers around the mats in the weights and sparring room. He found that if Matty started whining or crying, that Jack got twice as motivated to finish whatever task was at hand with maximum efficiency.

Matt was the best thing to ever happen to Jack’s boxing career, truly.

He also immediately became the gym’s darling because all the veterans there at that point were dads. Rudy himself had had his first girl Tina the year before, but unlike Jack, the rest of them had childcare arrangements and the money to maintain them.

---

It was just natural for people to gravitate towards the baby. Out of paternal instincts, yeah, but also because Matty was a source of constant entertainment.

He called everyone uncle until he was seven and he needed to be negotiated with to leave Fogwell be until he was nine. Fogwell didn’t mind him. Fogwell had unwittingly adopted him.

Matty didn’t meet his own uncles and grandpa. Jack couldn’t bear that. He took Matty to meet Bill, Jack’s eldest brother—the one who’d killed his wife—in jail and afterwards had been heart-broken and anxious for days.

Grace did not approve, it turned out.

Grace, who went by Maggie at that point, and who had given up her rights to be the mother of Jack’s child, remained one of Jack’s closest and dearest friends.

They still loved each other, and in Fogwell’s very correct opinion, that was nothing but trouble. He snatched Matty at every opportunity and informed him softly but firmly that he was not going to fall in love with a nun when he was big or there would be consequences.

Matt seemed to have come to understand this rule over time, but he never seemed to put together pieces as to why Fogwell was so insistent about it.

---

When Jack turned up murdered, everyone at the gym decided that it was their fault.

It was surreal.

Unbelieveable.

He’d been right there, just fine, laughing and smiling the day before. Rudy had held his bag and Jack had told him to tell the girls and Mel that he missed them.

And, in a moment of crushing realization back then, Rudy had understood the implications of those words and then remembered how good Jack had always been about smiling at people.

He knew how to make himself seem okay and unimportant. He knew how to fade into the background.

Fogwell took it hard.

He blamed himself for not recognizing how bad things had gotten at home for Jack and Matty. He blamed himself for not booking him for more jobs, for pushing him harder and harder on his form lately.

Matty was taken away by social services and his absence from the table at the gym the next day finally brought out the tears that Rudy hadn’t been able to let fall.

He tried.

He tried, he did.

Over the years, Matty had become a brother to Tina, Angie, and Penelope. He fit right in that two-year gap between Tina and Angie. Rudy had him over when Jack worked and Jack had the girls when Mel needed a break from the screaming and crying. And really, by then, everyone’s kids were everyone’s at the gym.

It wasn’t a matter of who belonged to who, it was more of a matter of when someone belonged to someone.

Rudy tried to get custody or at least foster rights. Mel gave herself an ulcer over it, trying to think of how to arrange things to make their home safe for Matt. Trying to think of how to make space for him. He could share a room with Tina. They were still young. They probably wouldn’t mind after some growing pains. But social services said that that wasn’t possible. Matt was too high-risk for them. They didn’t have enough experience with ‘his type of child.’

Which was bullshit.

Matt wasn’t high-risk, Matty was traumatized and scared and with people he didn’t know, who didn’t know him.

That was what made him high-risk.

He knew Rudy and Mel’s house. He knew their girls. He knew their neighborhood.

Still, nothing.

Fogwell himself tried. Shocked the shit out of everyone at the gym, but Social services sadly shook their heads.

By then, Matt had been placed out already.

---

Matt disappeared for five years. Just vanished completely. There was no sight of him until one day, Tina came home and said that ‘oh yeah, I saw Matty today’ while playing with her food at the dinner table.

Rudy and Mel had set down their forks.

Tina sighed and said that he was taller now, but he didn’t look good.

He looked sick, she said. With dark rings around his eyes and broken sunglasses. He’d been sleeping, leaning against the side of some stairs out in his school uniform at the Catholic highschool a few blocks away.

She’d poked at her chicken and then set down her fork and excused herself.

Rudy stroked her hair that night as she cried into her pillow for her lost brother.

---

Matt was, by fifteen, a troubled kid.

Rudy heard shouting one day from Clinton Church and stepped out to see what was happening. He was shocked to see that familiar ginger mop struggling in the arms of two cops, swearing that if these people took him back to wherever he’d come from, that he’d kill himself. He’d do it. Don’t try him.

The priest was called.

Matt was forced down to the ground and handcuffed, still fighting.

It was--it was a whole lot to see. Kenny swore softly behind him and Bert left them to go back inside. He went to the bathroom and didn’t join them out on the mats for a while.

---

Fogwell decided around then that enough was enough.

He went to the church and asked if he could borrow Matt for a while. He needed some help getting his accounts together and he knew Matt was a bright kid. Giving him a little work experience in a familiar and disciplined setting would be good for him.

But Matt wasn’t there.

---

The hospital didn’t allow anyone to visit Matt. He apparently hadn’t earned the privilege of visitors from anyone who wasn’t on his care team.

Rudy felt numb at the front desk.

Jack’s boy had tried to kill himself. He’d warned them all that he would do it.

He’d apparently screamed himself hoarse that he wanted to be with his dad in the ground.

He was still screaming.

This wasn’t the first time he’d done any of this, Rudy came to learn through a few whispered conversations with some nuns from St. Agnes.

Grace had found him after the three attempts the nuns knew of. This last one was just bad enough that she couldn’t bring him back from the edge.

Grace’s eldest younger sister had committed suicide. Grace had found her and then left home immediately become a novice. To find her own son as she’d once found her sister was cosmic and divine cruelty—enough that even Fogwell shook his head and said it just wasn’t right.

---

The first time Rudy saw Matty after the whole situation, he looked exactly as Tina said he did. Tired. With dark circles. Thin. His clothes threatened to fall off of him. They were threadbare and had holes in them here and there.

Matty didn’t talk.

He moved his head around a lot and jerked when anyone spoke to him or brushed against him, and he scrambled back and tripped sometimes if he was touched directly.

It was like looking at a smaller, thinner version of Jack all those years ago—this time with tightly bound wrists and a hospital bracelet that looked like it had been stretched and torn and chewed on.

Fogwell asked Matt if he thought he could do something with the accounts.

Matt said nothing.

Fogwell gave him a box of receipts and bits and bobs of payment cards and IOUs and Matt had frowned and put his hand into the box to touch its feathery contents. He’d lifted his face up in Fogwell’s direction and sneered.

“You can’t seriously live like this,” he’d said in a voice that almost brought tears to Rudy’s eyes. He’d heard Kenny clear his throat behind him.

---

Matty was the smartest person Rudy had ever met.

He set Fogwell’s accounts into order in an afternoon and then he fucked off for a few days, only to come back and digitize the whole thing after making the Big Man himself sit with him and read everything out individually to him as punishment for his nasty, twentieth-century ways.

Matt was disgusted with Grandpa’s living conditions.

He banged into every object in the backroom and swore like a sailor, loud enough that the folks hitting shit in the front room could hear him.

It was hard not to laugh.

“WHY?” Matt finally raged at Grandpa. “WHY. WHY. WHY?”

Grandpa shrugged.

Matt flailed at him in agitation at the lack of verbal answer and told him to get into the fartherest corner of the room and to get a pen, they were going to organize.

Matt was the reason that Fogwell’s Gym had survived for long enough to become a tourist trap.

Matt put every document in that place in order, ready for an audit. He made computer systems for payments and receipts and direct debits. He singlehandedly bullied Fogwell into the new century and made him get a card machine.

He bitched and moaned and belly-ached until Fogwell had interviewed a handful of tax people with actual, non-criminal reputations and picked one and once he was done with all that, Matt harrassed him to invest in a deep clean for the place and to make it accessible by ADA guidelines—the whole nine yards.

Matt, at fifteen, breathed new life into Fogwell’s Gym and it was kind of amazing how the place went from barely hanging on to a decent business once more.

---

After that, Matt seemed to be doing a lot better.

He didn’t have any more foster home placements. He didn’t try to hurt himself again. He decided, instead, that he was going to graduate highschool. He’d failed a fuckload of classes, though. Rudy found him despairing in the backroom over these and settled in across from him and asked to see the reports.

They weren’t good.

Matty’s teachers wrote constantly that Matt was extremely bright, but failed to participate in class or turn pretty much anything in for a grade. He slept in class. He seemed dazed. He didn’t ask for help or give any indication that he needed it.

His assigned para said that she found him challenging to work with. He was resistant to questions and seemed to be angry or, at best, uninterested in her speaking to him.

He was way behind.

Rudy had tapped the reports against the table back there and had taken a deep breath.

“It’s okay,” he told Matt. “We’ve got two years. We can make this work.”

And Matty’s head had jerked up from the table.

“We?” he’d asked in a small voice.

---

Matt really, really struggled with high school. Not because he wasn’t smart enough, but because his experience was so wildly different from other kids. He didn’t go home like they did. He went to St. Agnes’s. He didn’t play video games, he read books. He didn’t smoke cigarettes or joints. He didn’t drink. He was under constant surveillance.

He was bullied. Relentlessly.

Fogwell was quietly furious when Matt came in a few times a week to type away at the desk, inputting receipts for the new secretary to deal with later. Matt was always hurt. Always fighting.

He got his classwork done out of spite, seemingly, but then went home to the orphanage and got harrassed the whole way.

He fought his peers like the devil himself.

It was…

There was…

Something not quite right with him.

---

Bert pointed out when Matt was seventeen that he didn’t always use his stick like other blind folks. He forgot it sometimes and wandered around the gym like anyone else.

He didn’t trip over anything or keep fingers touching the wall like he usually did in other places.

They all chocked it up to him having grown up in the place.

Matt asked Fogwell to let him train.

Center-left-second-back.

That was Jack’s bag.

That was his son’s bag.

The veteran boxers all cycled through teaching Matt how to box. He knew—they all knew Matt already knew how, but there was always shit to learn.

Except that sometimes there wasn’t?

Matt seemed to already know everything that they taught him, including the nit-picky, little things. He listened to their descriptions, let them manipulate his hands and arms and hips, and then did what they asked immediately and with perfect form.

It was eerie.

It just wasn’t right. There was just something about it that wasn’t right. Rudy couldn’t put his finger on it.

---

Matt graduated highschool the year after Tina and it was only when Rudy saw the draft of the commencement program slip out of his bag on one of the benches that Rudy realized that Matty hadn’t mentioned it to anyone.

He picked up the program while Matt was attacking his bag and considered it, then did what was done in the gym and handed the program off to Fogwell who, in a booming voice, told Baby M to get the fuck over there, front and center.

Matt clung to his bag in terror at the sound. He, unlike his daddy, had the good sense to be reluctant to follow Fogwell’s orders. Eventually, with his tail between his legs, he skulked over and had his nose shoved in the program.

He pawed at it when Fogwell made him acknowledge it and mumbled something about not going.

Which was absurd.

“It’s not a big deal,” Matt said. “I’m not valedictorian or anything. It’s just highschool. And no one’s got time to go anyways, so what’s the point if it’s just me?”

God, this kid.

---

Matt’s graduation was very Catholic. Far more Catholic than Tina’s had been, but when Rudy looked over his shoulder, he was pretty sure that even a school this Catholic hadn’t been prepared for the influx of nuns hurrying down from Clinton’s church, all bustling and excited about young Matthew actually getting his diploma.

Between those four (aw, Grace. Look at you trying to play it smooth) and the seven boxing families who’d shown up, Matt was embarrassed to the point of tears. He’d hidden behind his mortarboard for the thirty minutes it took for people started calling folks up on stage.

He didn’t want to come out to take any pictures afterwards, but Tina wasn’t letting that happen. Her sisters leapt on board with the program and Rudy had managed at least one picture of the four of them smiling. Even better, he had one of Matt trying desperately to keep a smile while Fogwell stood stiffly next to him in stone-faced approval.

---

Matty was the first in the gym’s kid’s generation to graduate college, and then he was the only one to go on to law school.

It was only at that big graduation that Rudy finally saw Matt beaming like a loon—like he had up at Jack as a baby, but this time at the long-haired, chubby guy next to him.

This, legend had it, was the Roommate.

The one Matt refused to speak about to anyone at the gym.

Period.

At all.

There was no discussion.

That is, until he was forced by Fogwell standing menacingly over him in silent demand for a hug, to introduce them all to Foggy.

Foggy Nelson.

And then, just like that. It was exactly Jack all over again.

Veins bulging as everyone tried desperately not to laugh at Fogwell’s face at the realization that Matty had gone out and found a better, nicer Fog-person to be friends with.

---

Foggy Nelson—Edward Nelson from the hardware store’s son—was not fucking good enough for Matty, Fogwell decided. He’d begun a stoic campaign to introduce Matt to every available boxer’s son and daughter in the city in the hopes that a little nudge would get Matty away from all them conniving lawyer-folk. That was all fine and well with Matt because Matt, they’d all learned after a few years in his company again, was a horrendous flirt.

God, this boy.

Incorrigible.

He flirted with Tina and Angie and Penelope and got slapped every time.

He flirted with Bert’s daughter Becka.

He flirted with Becka’s husband.

He flirted with Kenny’s son’s best friend at the son’s wedding.

He flirted with the new secretary’s sister-in-law.

He was completely unstoppable.

Kenny approved.

But Kenny also asked Matt pointedly if he and his roommate had worked things out yet and that sent Matt scowling and shuffling off to go hide behind Fogwell, wherever he was, for emotional support.

---

Matt was Daredevil.

He had to be.

Everyone in the gym suspected this.

He was too good at fighting. To flexible. Too sturdy and relentless and angry to be anyone else. They all recogized his shoulders in those little blips of videos people posted online. They recognized how close he got to people from the way he get up in his bag’s imagined face.

He had some kind of superpower—some kind of 360 degree awareness was the best Rudy could describe it.

He felt like he remembered Jack freaking out about something like this a million years ago. Nattering on about super-senses in the aftermath of the accident.

Fogwell was the one who’d brought it up again after he’d noticed that Matt liked to come in at night and spar on his own.

One time, just once, he’d left one of the security cameras on, concerned that Matty might get mugged in the night on his own there.

But Matty wasn’t getting mugged anytime soon.

No, for real.

Matt was…maybe something a little beyond them.

The video Fogwell had shown the older guys before deleting it and telling everyone to mind their own fucking business had shown Matt throwing his weight at the bag—throwing legs and fists—in complicated, almost choreographed movements that spoke of lethal intent.

He moved like a weasel. Like a predator.

Like a devil.

God knew where he’d learned those moves. The boy had lived a lot of life in those few years he’d fallen off of the gym’s radar. There was no telling who he’d met or how he’d learned to be as he was, but things made a lot more sense after that.

Jackie had had a devil in him. It only made sense that his dramatic-ass kid had one, too.

Matty had made something more of himself than his daddy. In so many other things, but in this, too.

Fogwell’s Gym was protected. It was home to a devil in disguise.

---

The hipster Jack-fan appeared with baby Henry a few more times before Bert asked him if he knew that his hero’s kid, who’d lived the life baby Henry was currently living, was actually a regular at the gym.

Hipster-kid gaped and fell over himself trying to ask Bert if he could meet the guy.

Bert smirked. And then waved across the place over to where Matt had just slithered in with absurd orange sneakers that he was very proud of. He was clearly on the hunt to go show Fogwell so that he could be disgusted.

He froze when Bert called his name.

The hipster’s jaw dropped.

“Matty, come tell this man about your daddy,” Bert said.

Matt stared.

Then made a sad, aborted gesture with his free hand that said that he had very important annoyances to make of himself, so could this maybe wait?

“You’re—you’re--?” the hipster stammered.

“Matt Murdock,” Matt said hurriedly. “Great to meet you? You’re the one with the kid, right? Congrats. Have either of you seen Fogwell?”

The hipster blinked.

“Uh?” he said. “Not today?”

Matt scowled.

“He’s not escaping these,” he said, tapping his way angrily back to the door. “I got him a matching set. No one is escaping them.”

The gym at large watched him stalk back out the door, tapping away furiously, no doubt on the way down the block to Fogwell’s house.

“That’s Matt Murdock?” the hipster asked.

“Man, I thought he’d be taller,” another newbie said.

“Kid, that is the least of your problems when it comes to Matt Murdock,” Bert laughed. “Now, all of you, back to work. This ain’t a dog and pony show. Go on.”

---

#daredevil #fic #ficlet #jack murdock

113 notes · View notes

catharrington · 3 years

Note

prompt 15 would be super cute for billy n Steve 🥺

15/ “Well, you’re coming home with me whether you like it or not.”

🖤🖤Thanks for the request anon, hope this is cute??

***

“Well, you’re coming home with me whether you like it or not!” Hopper shouted, his eyes wide and his upper lip that held that dumb stache staying wide open. He turned unblinking, serious eyes towards Billy.

And Billy huffed out an annoyed sigh. “Just take me in, pig, I don’t care to be in a cell—,”

“Are you dense, man?” Steve interrupted. “You’d really choose lock up over that? You really must have been dropped on your head—,”

His words were cut off as Billy fisted the front collar of his preppy green sweater, pulling it forward with a yank. He loved watching Steve stumble forwards where he pulled him. Those long legs fluttering keep up. Pretty hands reaching out blindly and falling along the side of Billy’s denim jacket.

Slender fingers wrap around their sides, olive skin ripped along the knuckles bloody red. Their faces just a few inches apart. Billy can already see the cut his middle finger’s ring left on Steve’s nose. And how his pretty skin is going to bruise from it.

There was a mix of anger and surprise in those big, hazel eyes. Billy licked slowly across his fat, swollen bottom lip.

“Knock it off,” Hopper grumbled from behind him. He cupped one huge hand around Steve’s shoulder and lead him backwards easily. Steve going right where the cop herded him, his doe eyes flicking up once.

Hopper pushed Steve by the shoulder against the side of his shitty sheriff’s Jeep, and it made Billy’s hot blood feel like it was boiling.

“You’ll both just come to my place, and sleep off all this liquor and fighting,” Hopper spoke toward Steve in a proposition. Looked out the side of his eyes towards Billy like a threat.

“Liquor?” Billy laughed out, “don’t know what you mean?”

Hopper nodded down once, his thick mustache pointing towards the space between the Camaro’s tires and Billy’s boots. Poking out from behind was the shaft of their shared whiskey bottle. Tipped over on its side and spilling out.

Billy rolled his eyes. Sniffed slightly, pushing a finger under his nose just to mess up the blood still dripping from it.

“Get in the car,” Hopper made final. He shoved into Steve’s shoulder once to push him towards the backseat.

Steve climbed in like the good little boy he was. Billy stayed standing mostly just to watch his ass, before he followed.

The ride was quiet, and long. Hopper didn’t even have the heart to turn on the radio even when Billy asked so nicely for it. All he did was pass back a handful of take out napkins for them to clean up with.

They both held the napkins to their noses to stop the bleeding. Tilting their heads forward to make the blood flow. As they both looked down watching their laps, their spread thighs and squished dirty denim jeans. The space of the leather seat just a couple inches between them.

Steve shifted so his right hand held the napkin, and his other rested palm up in that open space.

Billy moved his wad of bloody napkins into his left hand. His other hesitated for a second. Hovering in the air between them, his knuckles where they were split open much darker in the shadows of the Jeep’s cab. His whole hand seemed so much darker. But Steve’s hand laying palm up looked so pale.

Billy laid his hand down so just his fingers rested against Steve’s palm. Stroking the soft skin a couple times before falling still. Letting himself rest there.

Steve’s thin, pretty fingers wrapped around Billy’s own ugly ones. Gave them a dumb little squeeze.

They didn’t talk about it. And Billy watched out the window.

#harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #harringrove fic #my fic #harringrove fanfic #steve/billy #prompt fill

53 notes · View notes

neon-junkie · 4 years

Note

If requests are still open can I put in one for Javier/Bill? The scenario doesn’t matter much to me as long as it’s them 😭 us shippers are starving Queen

oh god YES. i love writing these two!!! here’s some RDR1 fluff and a sprinkle of angst :3

It's another silent night at Fort Mercer. The stars hang overhead and the crickets chirp below, and the sound of Bills men nattering away could be heard from behind him. Bill's stood on the outer wall, overlooking the dead landscape that surrounds the fort. Days ago, Marston had approached and asked for Bill to come calmly, to which Bill had ordered his men to shoot him and left him for the elements. The stain of his blood can still be seen on the ground, and Bill finds himself staring at it for the hundredth time tonight. What is he to do? Marston is finally seeking his revenge, or so Bill thinks, and for the first time in a long time, he's worried. Since that incident all those years ago, Bill's only cared about himself. He used to stretch his neck out for a group of outlaws who only mocked and ignored him, but he doesn't tolerate that bullshit anymore. Although, there's one other person that he cares about, though he doesn't always admit it, and he's cared about that man for as long as he can remember.

"Bill, there you are," said man says as he approaches from behind. "What're you doing?" Javier asks as he leans on the wall next to Bill, staring out at the landscape that Bills eyes are still fixed on. "Just thinkin'," Bill replies with a shrug. "About Marston? Still?" Javier questions, his eyes flicking over to look at Bill. Javiers never really noticed before, but he suddenly realises how old Bill has become, with his faint wrinkles and grey patch to his beard. Javier realises he's becoming old too, with a few grey hairs to his stache and his smile lines becoming more prominent. They've stood by each others side for so long that Javier had never really realised how age had changed both of them, but he does now. "Yeah," Bill replies. "I just... I ain't sure how to get outta this mess," Bill tells him, his eyes finally moving over to Javiers as he rests his elbows on the wall, hunching his back over. "John's one man, he won't be able to take on all of your men. Look what happened last time, you think John is that stupid to do it again?" Javier asks as he points to where John once lay. As much as Javier still viewed John as his brother, he still valued his life for some reason, despite his family disappearing a long time ago, though Bill still stands by his side. "Yeah, I do," Bill says with a laugh. Javier pulls a face as he realises that yeah, John is stupid enough to do it again, and to keep doing it over and over until he gets himself finally killed. "Well... we'll move away, somewhere John can't find us... Hey! Mexico! You could come over there with me. No way is John going to survive crossing that border, and if he somehow does, then he'll get himself killed in the revolution," Javier replies. "And we won't?" Bill questions. "Not if you follow my lead, and don't piss any of the locals off," Javier says with a laugh. He knows how dumb Bill can be at times, and how words slip out of his mouth before his brain has even finished its thoughts. "Is you sure? Are we just gonna hide there?" Bill asks. "Trust me, Bill. You've stuck by my side for this long, so you do trust me, don't you?" "Well, course I do!" Bill replies in a slightly mocking tone, almost insulted that Javier even had to question his loyalty. "Then we'll be fine," Javier smiles, lightly nudging Bills arm. Bill smiles at him but quickly moves his eyes back to the view. It's clear that he's still worried; as stupid as John is, Bill knows he'll find a way, he always does. Javier isn't sure what to say. Bills a stubborn man who trusts his own thoughts way more than anybody else's. So, Javier rests his weight on the wall, his shoulder softly brushing against Bills, though both of them pay no mind to the small contact. Javiers eyes focus on the view as he crosses one ankle over the other, but his eyes soon flick down to Bills hands. Javiers seen Bill throw men off these walls for looking at him funny, he's seen Bill murder and steal for so many years, always so confident in his way, executing men who won't follow his lead. But it always surprises him when Bill tenses up whenever he's held, just like now. Javiers hand moves onto Bills, lazily holding his hand, his thumb stroking over Bills worn knuckles, still lightly bruised from the man he punched last week. As always, Bill tenses up to his touch. He dips his head, eyes looking at Javiers hand over his, and then stares at the floor. Bill almost looks like he's too polite to reject Javier, but Javier knows that Bill is just an extremely touch starved man that still, even in his old age, has no idea how to react when somebody shows even the smallest bit of affection to him. "Bill?" Javier softly asks. "What?" Bill replies, eyes returning to the view as he tries to ignore that sickly feeling in his stomach. Javier isn't sure exactly what he wants to say, but he knows that Bill knows that there's an elephant in the room. "Look at me," Javier eventually tells him. "Why?" Bill asks, a little bluntly, though Javier knows by now that that's just his normal tone of voice. "Because I want you to," Javier replies. Bill ponders for a few seconds but eventually looks at Javier, though he struggles to keep eye contact. "You still tense up, even after all these years?" Javier finally questions. "I don't mean to!" Bill replies with a shrug, his voice getting defensive. "I just... well, you know what I mean." "Sure," Javier says with a light laugh. He knows exactly what Bill means, he understands that Bill's not had anybody since all those years ago when he was in the army, so it's no surprise that he's gotten used to being on his own. But it still makes Javiers heart cry that even after all the years of running together, growing old together, standing by each others side without ever questioning their loyalty and trust, that Bill still tenses up when Javier touches him. Even though they've spent countless nights 'huddled together for warmth', or pinning each other down as the taste of whiskey is shared on their lips. "You know... I just don't get it. Me? Javier, you is still pretty, you could have anybody you want. But you still stick with me and... I just don't get why," Bill admits as his eyes look away from Javiers. "Yeah, you're a dumbass and a pain in the ass, but you're mine," Javier shrugs. "And I wouldn't have it any other way," Javier adds. "Why?" "...I don't know, I just wouldn't." "Alright," Bill replies. It is alright, Javier doesn't need any explanation and Bill accepts that. Javier is stood by his side, so why does he need to question it? There's a bit of silence again before Javier lets out a frustrated whine as he turns his gaze back to Bill. "Come here," he says as he beckons him with his other hand. "What?" Bill questions as he looks at Javier. "I said come here, you idiota." Bills about to complain about the insult but his mouth is suddenly occupied as Javier leans up on tip-toes to plant a kiss on Bills lips. Bills eyes change from being widen open, a little surprised, to falling shut as he tilts his head against Javiers. Their hats bump against each other as they slip back onto the crowns of their heads, though not falling off. The kiss stays soft and light, lips gently sliding over each others, still stood side by side with their heads turned. Bills hand finally turns over so he can slide Javiers fingers between his and for once, Bill isn't tensing up. Maybe they will be alright? Maybe they can run away to Mexico and continue running south? Marston won't follow them that far, and as long as they have each other, then they'll be alright.

36 notes · View notes

surveys-at-your-service · 3 years

Text

Survey #426

“insatiable furnace, burning up our surplus / watching all essential life become another servant”

Are you a brunette? Yep. It is way past due time that I get it dyed... What is your favorite channel on TV? I don't really watch TV, but if I did, I'm pretty sure it'd probably be Discovery. Have you ever been to Chicago, IL? Yes!! It's my only experience with a truly BIG city, and though I'm not a city person, the experience was pretty magical. It was something I wasn't even remotely used to. Just so much life and business and energy to feel there. Who was your first friend? Brianna. She was the sister of my older sister's best friend. What is your favorite holiday? Christmas. :') Do you regret your last kiss? Nope. Have you ever taken a karate class? No. Who was the last person to tell you ‘I love you’? My mom. Have you ever been to the Statue of Liberty? No. Do you live on your own? Noooo. I don't think I ever could. I would have to stay VERY busy, or else the loneliness would kill me. Hell, even if I was very active in stuff, I still don't know if I could. With how bad my depression is capable of being, it doesn't sound smart at all for me to move out unless it was with somebody. Are your the oldest child? No, I'm the middle kid. How many X-rays have you had in the last 2 years? Two, maybe? One for my legs and the other for my teeth. Are you on good terms with your last ex? Yeah, we're best friends. Do you have scars you don’t like to talk about? Nah. Do you freak out if a bee/wasp flies near you? ... yes lol. What subjects in history interest you most? The Holocaust. It's just so... shocking and extreme that it's oddly fascinating, but of course horribly sad. Are you superstitious in any way? Nah. How do you get rid of anxiety? Do what? Are there any items of jewelry you never/rarely take off? Yeah, my two rings, my lip piercing, and tragus piercing. Has a song ever made you cry before? There are many. ^If so, what about it brought you to tears? Again, I said "many," so this would be a horribly long list. There are four though - "Eternally Yours" and "Another Life" by Motionless in White, "Stairway to Heaven" by Led Zeppelin, and "The Mortician's Daughter" by Black Veil Brides - that I really, really try to avoid, because I WILL cry. They're all associated with Jason for one reason or another. "Stairway to Heaven," especially, is absolutely forbidden for me to listen to. Would you consider yourself open-minded? Very, honestly. Have you ever met someone online that you wanted to meet in real life? I've met Sara! :') There are a handful of others I'd love to meet, too. Tell me about the last thing that made you laugh until it hurt. Wow, I have no idea. I don't remember the last time I laughed THAT hard. When you graduate, what color will your gown be? Ugh, it was this insufferable red. We got to vote on it, and I really wanted navy instead, as it looks more formal and not as obnoxious to me, but red won. Do you own a gun? No. My household legally can't because of my suicidal history. What color of shirt are you wearing? It's a black tank top. Do you use any acne medication? Nah, I don't really get acne anymore. Are you emotional or very stoic? I'm emotional as shit. Have you ever watched an anime series, start to finish? A few. There's Fullmetal Alchemist (as well as the Brotherhood expansion), Deadman Wonderland, and Ginga Densetsu Weed. I've seen bits of others. Which baby animal is your favorite? MEERKATS!!!!!! :') Once they reach three/four weeks, they're fucking precious. I also really like kittens. Do you like jam on your toast and biscuits? Sometimes. Have you ever reread a book? It is very, VERY rare I do this. The only cases I remember are for Because of Winn-Dixie and Meerkat Manor: Flower of the Kalahari. Do you have any religious symbols in your home? I think Mom has some religious quotes on the walls? What religion do you identify with, if any? None. What is you favorite flavor of pudding and/or yogurt? I love chocolate pudding, but I'm not very big on yogurt because of the sourness. I can sometimes eat a cookies 'n cream one, but occasionally I'm like "ew." We’re going to the best amusement park ever, first ride you choose is? One of those water rides where you go down a big slope. Did you have intense night terrors as a child? No. Know anybody who works in a tattoo parlor? No. That'd be dope. Have you ever had a piercing get infected? Ugh, yes. Worst was the first time I got my tongue pierced. It was early into infection though, thank God; I ended up having to take it out and get it re-pierced later. Have you ever shoplifted? No. Do you hate when people say, "Everything’s going to be fine,“ when it’s not? Sometimes. It can feel kinda dismissive of your extreme situation, and sometimes, things simply won't be okay. Like, you can't tell that to someone on their death bed. Do you check your fire alarms when you’re supposed to? No, oops. Are you a shorts-wearing kind of person? Absolutely not. Nobody wants to see my legs, not even me. Is your grandparents’ house obsessively tidy? My grandma's sure as hell was. She was very old-fashioned and "proper" and took cleanliness and manners very seriously. Do you know how to jumpstart a car? Nope. Would you date someone 8 years older than you? Probably. What did you do today? I WENT TO THE GYM AND DID A FULL HOUR OF EXERCISE!!!!! :') For once I am SO fucking proud of myself. I left drenched in sweat, but I also left with a feeling of great accomplishment. I'm going to be going twice a week now with a personal trainer. (: Who was the last person you fell asleep with? Sara. Have you ever punched a hole in the wall? No. People doing that shit terrifies me. Have you ever felt replaced? Sure have. Have you ever kissed someone who was high? No. If you caught your significant other cheating on you what would you do? I don't have a partner, but hypothetically, leave their ass in a blink. I don't fuck with those kind of people. Do you know who Jeffree Star is? Well, yes. I watch him on YT sometimes and (astonishingly) love his music, and I find his work ethic extremely inspiring. That man knows how to hustle. What’s your favourite alcoholic beverage? Probably sangrias. When was the last time you saw a photo of your ex? "The" ex, it's been years. I've removed all pictures I have of him, irl and digitally, because it's triggering for me. How many push-ups can you do? Probably zero. Do you play any games on your phone? There's Pokemon GO, DragonVale, and Dragons of Atlantis that I play semi-regularly. Have you ever received a compliment from a stranger? Yes. Have you ever shaved your face? Just my upper lip to avoid the lady stache, ha ha. What colour is your front door? It’s white. Do you take the stairs or the elevator? If an elevator is available, I will ALWAYS use that. I have an extreeeemely hard time getting up stairs because of having just about no leg muscle. Do you get motion sickness? No. When was the last time you went to your favourite restaurant? Oh man, it's been forever. :/ Olive Garden sounds soooo good right now. Do either of your parents have any tattoos or piercings? No. Well, Mom has her earlobes pierced once, but that's it. Are you desperate for anyone’s approval, in particular? It's funny, even though he hasn't been a part of my life for years, I still desperately crave what I think would make Jason proud. There have been many times where my mind has wondered to what he would think of me now... and I know it's not good. Are there any activities you enjoy doing, but can only do for a short amount of time before you get bored or tired of them? Reading. When was the last time you felt hopeful, and why? Today, after finishing my workout at the gym. I think, finally, that I may be taking another stride forward in life. Do you find yourself asking for the same things for your birthdays and for holidays? Ha, yup: a new tattoo, 100%. What is something someone recommended to you that you disliked/hated? Girt's recommended some music to me before. He loves sharing songs he likes with me. Of course I didn't tell him it sucked, ha ha. What’s a fact about the last person you kissed? She is very passionate about animals, reptiles in particular, and is simply amazing with them. If you had a child, would you rather have a girl or a boy? A girl for sure. Has anybody ever accused you of doing drugs? No. Have you ever fallen asleep with the last person you kissed? Yeah. Honestly, do you think that you will wanna settle down in the same town you’re currently residing in? HELL no. I hate this place. Does anyone call you darling? If so who? Sara does sometimes. Are you close to any of your cousins? No. Are you a romantic person? I think I am. What’s the coolest thing you’ve seen out the window of an airplane? Mountains. Have you ever been in the mountains when the moon and stars were up? NO BUT FUCK I WANT THAT. Just lay in a grassy spot with some s'mores or something and just ~vibe~. Do people like your hair? I get complimented on it a bit. Have you ever held birdseed and a bird came and ate out of your hand? Yeah, at a bird sanctuary. Could you ever live in Alaska? Hell yeah, I'd enjoy that. On the main page on YouTube, what’re the three recommended videos? There's one by a WoW gold maker, a song by 3TEETH, and a video of bullsnakes hatching. Do you really care how many friends you or anyone else has on Myspace/Facebook? Couldn't care less. I only "friend" people I know and care about. Does your significant other have any piercings? I'm single. Do you ever get bored of yourself? Oh, all the time. I feel like I'm extremely dull and plain and, well, boring. How many band shirts do you own? Which? Oh goodness, I have no idea. I own a lot. Do you go to shows mostly for the music, the moshing, or the merchandise? I go for the music. It's nice to buy merch, but it's SO expensive that it's dumb. Moshing, I think is just stupid. Have you ever had anything pierced that you don’t have now? Many places, actually. So many holes closed because piercings had to be taken out when I was in the psych hospital. I was so annoyed. Who were you with the first time you watched the last movie you watched? I was alone. Do you have any twins/multiples in your family? Are they identical or fraternal? No. What is the highest number of jobs you’ve had at one time? One. Is your mom a good mom? She is the actual best. Last thing you threw in the garbage? The crust of some leftover pizza I had this morning. I generally eat the crust, but this time it was WAY too hard.

#survey #surveys #random questions #lyrics: ''altaer" by 3teeth

5 notes · View notes

wormteeth2004 · 4 years

Text

my brain vomit during the pandemic special

(in order)

TAKE BUTTERS TO BUILD-A-BEAR!!!! NOW!!!!!

I bet Cartman is gonna think the virus is fake. I’m calling it.

THERE’S MUSIC??????? AHDGHSJD

Of course Cartman likes doing nothing lmfao

WHEN CARTMAN PRETENDED TO BE GLITCHING IN CLASS I COULD SEE KYLE’S LIL FACE LIKE ‘this is bullshit’ LMAO

Cartman is gonna purposely spread covid to get out of school isn’t he

I wanna hug Stan,,, he already lives far away from everyone and new he can barely even see them at school :((( stan pls open up ily

Of course Randy pulled the “do you even know anyone with covid” card

Oh. And the “from China” card as well. I hate this man I hope he gets it

Did.... did Randy fuck a bat

Ok... I wish I wasn’t right

KYLE!!! I MISSED KYLE SO MUCH!!!!!

RANDY FUCKED A PANGOLIN TOO???? CHILL MAN JESUS CHRIST

LMFAO KYLE AND ERIC FIGHTING

The fucking police officers i-

Is.. Randy going to CUM into the fucking Weed that he’s selling????? i- i---

Once again I wish I wasn’t right

THE ‘get well Jimbo!’ PHOTO OF HIM AND STAN THAT’S SO SWEET I’M EMOTIONAL AWW

GIVE BUTTERS HIS BUILD-A-BEAR PARTY FOR BEING A BIG BOY AT THE DENTIST. NOW!!!!!!!!!

The cum weed worked I should be happy but how in the world can I be happy about CUM WEED

Have fun jerking off a million times loser

Stan pls open up to someone :(( ALSO KYLE TAKE THE HINT PLS HELP STAN OML

Mr. Garrison as Trump is so perfect. I still love the way they made that happen

idc about social distancing pls give Stan a hug already

His..... cum......... gives people....... moustaches.......... why am I barely even phased by this

No Stan we need to get YOU out of there :((

I really hope Stan actually opens up to someone instead of acting like it’s other people’s problems and he isn’t struggling from the same thing... my heart breaks for him :(

Craig and Tweek walking with each other when they’re trying to escape the school omg :)

Kenny </3 I’ve noticed we’re getting less and less Kenny content as the episodes go by. Like I get he’s supposed to die but like... maybe wait until the very end?? Or at leave have him actually do something before he dies.. come on :(

The way Kyle says “moustache”. He puts the fucking emphases on ‘stache’ it sounds so dumb im screaming

My heart breaks so much for Stan... omfg...

FINALLY KYLE SAYS SMTHN TO STAN JESUS TOOK U LONG ENOUGH UR SUPPOSED TO BE THE SMART ONE

Stan please stop making a fucking build-a-bear you are going to literally die

Cartman you slimy little twerp I am going to pummel you into a fine powder

STAN..... I LOVE U..... IM SO SAD DJHGFJD i am literally crying

There has to be some twist..??? Cartman actually was nice??? Something bad has to happen now

Ah.... there it is

Yes Randy the marijuana went to your head or whatever now move back to your old house or SO help me

23 notes · View notes

iamtheempress · 4 years

Text

Cold Blooded

A Dragon Ball Horror Fic {Part 8}

☆☆☆

The Gravity Chamber, at 500 times gravity was nothing compared to how heavy the princes heart felt. Whether he wanted to admit it or not he hurt Carlie and the fact she was UNDERSTANDING- other then alive- is nothing short of a miracle.. shes still his fiance, his mate. Vegeta was getting sloppy and keeping his mind occupied was proving to be a bigger challenge in and of itself.

"Why dont you go apologize to her already?" Bulma's voice cut through the gravity chambers speakers. Vegeta pounded his fist straight through a bot and looked to the screen on the wall. Hes quiet. "Vegeta, your so fucking dense.. shes going through trauma too. All she wants is to be comforted and if you can collect yourself and man up and speak to your *fiance* maybe you two will be stronger then ever.. just get your ass outside and see her." "Where." The prince piped up and turned off the chamber that was encased in red light. "Balcony from my room shes checking out the scenery with her new vision" she winks and turns off the display. "New vision..?" He furrows a brow and rushes out of the chamber.

He made his way to the other end of the building paying no mind to doctors and physicians who stood around scratching their heads. It seems like confusion was becoming more infectious in the walls of capsule corp then people were comfortable with..

He saw her.

Standing on the balcony with the robe that was leant to her from Bulma, he took a deep breath and made his way to the door. The wind fluttering curtains out of the building.

"Woman." He piped up, clenching his shaking fists.

Carlie turned eyes wide and tilted her head. Shes not wearing glasses. Its a new sight for the prince and certainly for her. She was so interested in seeing him she had a look of childlike wonder.

"Hey Vegeta, i was just about to come look for you, wanted to show you this." She pointed to her face, she was focused on him for the first time without glasses and Carlie simply loved it.. she welcomed him on the balcony and they stood side by side, Vegeta kept his place and stared at her gathering his thoughts and how to say it.

"Carlie. You know i didn't mean to do what i did… in any way shape or form id never lay a hand on you maliciously.. what I'm saying is that-'' she cut him off with a finger to his lips silencing the bumbling prince.

"My prince doesn't stutter over his words. That tells me your sorry and that's all i need." He sighed in relief and held her arms staring into her eyes. "No more glasses i assume?" He pushes bleached blonde locks out of her face to view her new look closer. "Nope! I have 20/20 vision now! The serum perfected it completely.. should be permanent. Like it?"

Vegeta tilted his face and hummed out a chuckle "Never mattered to me woman" he encircled his arms around her back and pulled her into a passionate hard kiss, nothing about Vegeta was soft or sweet. Let alone kissing or a rare apology. She welcomed it with a smile and running her fingers into his hair and deepening it. They were interupted by the sound of Bulma's voice. "No sex on my bed please you two." She casually asked of them making Vegeta smirk down at his woman beaming with relief. "No promises." Carlie held him close and looked at the blue haired engineer. "So i take it you both made up? Wedding still on?" "Plan never changed if im not mistaken" Vegeta grumbled and leaned back against the railing. "Good. I have food ready for everyone, Carlie go get dressed and meet us out there." She requested disrobing from the white lab coat. "Heard that. Im guessing hes not joining us again." She gulped, referring to Frieza. "No he had his fill already. Gets his food sent to his room." Bulma always had a way of making people comfortable in any bullshit situation. "Alright ill meet yall out there."

Carlie dressed in the little black dress she had as a backup in Bulmas closet. Simple and easy to slip on. Along with blue slides on so she wasn't barefoot going to the balcony. Upon closing the door she was met with the quiet halls of capsule corp she adjusted the dress and made her way down the hall only to be stopped by a familiar sight.

"Carlie!" Goku chirped coming from the direction of the lab. "Hey Goku! Long time no see. How you been?"

"Oh y’know all well and good, Vegeta told me that the serum was done so i stopped by and went into the lab to get the edible versions. Hope that’s no trouble!" He rubbed the back of his neck with a grin.

She laughed and walked in tandem with the larger saiyan to the balcony. "No no problem there. I should really come up with a name for it instead of calling it 'serum'." Goku made a thoughtful noise and tilted his head.

"Pick Me Up?" He said quite instantly. As if he already had a name for it. "Goku where the hell did you hear a phrase like that?" "Huh? Im not sure, really. Somethin i used to say with senzu beans or when I'm in a hospital bed, and believe me everyone needs a good Pick Me Up" Carlie snorted, Goku was that weird comic relief she needed in her life, some things are just too serious and then there was Goku to remind people there’s worse thing out there to be worried about then that on earth, the both of them stopped at the doorway from the balcony.

"It was strange actually, Frieza let me in the lab when i got there." Carlie raised a brow. "Really? Weird." She goes to the balcony with Goku who sees the smorgasbord of food. "Got room for one more?" "Yes Goku, we got more" Bulma says being served and points to Goku. The wait staff nods and goes back to fetch more food for the Saiyan with the biggest appetite and Carlie, who took her place beside the prince.

Something still sat heavy on her mind..

Why was Frieza in her lab?

Beneath the foundation of the corporation was Carlie’s Lab, and within that lab lay her best creation now being manufactured ten fold from enterprises, and Frieza was witnessing the young scientists' empire rise slowly. The former emperor strode around the lab and to a display with Frieza’s name scrawled across the drawn on screen. He smiled at the little things, whether it be penmanship or be it her dainty way she wrote in general there was something about her that Frieza enjoyed. Maybe it was her interest in him, maybe it was her kindness where others found reasons to hate him.

He didnt hate it. He felt the need to keep it to himself, to let it fester for his own amusement. He dipped his head forward and looked to a bag sitting erect on the floor.

Marked with the letter F. He tilted his head and picked it up, curious, he pulled out a large bottle of Merlot. “Hmm… Precious little thing remembered” He was caught off guard by the sound of someone opening the door to the lowermost part just before the labs door, he twitched upon hearing an unfamiliar voice.

He slid the wine back into the bag and placed it back to where he found it. Gliding with grace and absolute silence to the wall besides the door to listen. “Have you seen Norman anywhere?” A deep voice questioned, an older human physician.

“Havent since he sent another nude of Carlie..” “A real dime piece she is.. Too bad she still is with that weird alien.” “Ah come off it.. We have our Stache and she is none the wiser.”

Friezas fists clenched tight behind his back as he leaned against the wall, and a small knowing smile spread across his tightly lined black lips. Easy prey. He thought.

“So why are we down here, Nick?” the fat short one asked as the other fumbled with pills and some strange vial. “Easy, Bruce… were sabotaging her coffee so she can fall asleep faster, and were going to get that coding for that stimulant. Dumb bitch wouldnt know what hit her.” The door clicked open and In walked the Physicians, unbeknownst to them there untimely end would be at the hands of frieza.

At breakneck speed, Frieza apprehended both of them one by the neck with his tail and the other with his hand outstretched gripping the fat short ones neck, tight enough to hear a loud crunch before he could cry out for help.

“Tsk tsk tsk… you meddlesome little vermin were going to harm, Carlie” He lifted the one who was devising the plan into the air and tightened the appendage around his throat tighter, his fat friend gurgling almost unconscious on his own blood. His eyes flicked to the room in the back marked incinerator. Friezas devilish smile and bright vermillion eyes flickered from one physician to the other. “I do believe a swift punishment for disgusting little creatures like you are in order., wouldn't you agree, Bruce?” He walked forward with one hand anchored to his back as the door opened to him as if by will, the one being suspended in mid air was kicking and gasping, while the other was being dragged by his bottom jaw.

“This is a crude little disposal unit but it will do for now, besides trash belongs in the trash.” He tossed the fat one into the disposal pit with enough force to crack his head against the wall, the impact making a loud crunch; he gasped and twitched, spitting up blood on the ground, covered in charred remains of glass and waste.

Frieza brought the human to eye level with him and tilted his head as he stared in the face of sweet delicious fear, decadent tears and the succulent sight of sweat and blood shot eyes of the strangled doctor.

“Those pictures better be worth your utter demise. Too bad you wont be able to touch a woman as beautiful as her,” He took hold of his arms and with minimal effort popped both of his arms off his person like a doll, the dismembered doctor went wide eyed and cried before being flung head first into the same spot his partner hit.

“Now you wont have anything to touch her with….” He grinned laying the arms one over the other in the pit before clicking the incinerator activation button, sealing the two still living doctors away in a hard glass chamber door, and licks of fire erupting from the floor like hell reaching up to grab at them both. Frieza leaned against the wall marveling at the two doctors flop around like fish out of water… screaming silently for a help that will never arrive. Only to see their executioner behind the glass window beyond walls of rising fire, like the Devil himself.

“You will thank me, Carlie.” He assured sauntering from the room only to be met with a tiny floor cleaning robot that mopped up the floor of all the blood that soaked the linoleum floor. The perfect murder, and the best little cleanup crew and no one was any the wiser.

The emperor looked over at the bottle of wine left out for him then back to the screen with all the information of his physical genetic makeup, hes thoroughly impressed and with a swipe of his hand the coding goes over to the Saiyan genetic makeup with the green wording beneath it.

Perfected.

Frieza narrows his brows and hums. A tab opens with all the reasons why it is perfected. Most of these reasons are beneficial and to aid civilization as a whole. Both alien and human alike, and shes only put forth the battle stimulant. “This benevolent little woman is more creative then I expected.. Ohoho.. Your only peaking my interest further and further Carlie.”

He goes back to his own investigation and feels like hes seen enough. He’ll inspect his findings later, but for now he is in wait. The incinerator dings indicating its disposal has ended. Frieza grins maliciously. “Too bad that was much faster than anticipated…”

☆☆☆

Authors note: Thanks for waiting, works been crazy and havent had time to really get this done fast enough.

Taglist: @gallickingun @gonuclear @dragonblobz @dragonballcollector @lilfriezatyrant @mommaofthesayianguild @lizardhipsdontlie @supremeleadershitlord @thotful-writing @trans-asshole @memevember

#Cold Blooded fic #Murder tw #Gore tw #death tw #strangulation tw #Frieza x Oc #Frieza #Vegeta x oc #Vegeta #dragon ball fanfiction

19 notes · View notes