#bb queue

open to: male tops scenario: atlas, and a handful of other heroes, were invited by the city to take part in a press conference where they would be given an honorary key to the city as a way to thank them, and their teams, for all their work protecting them... but Atlas never made it to the stage. Y/M intercepted him in the facilities bathroom and has him otherwise occupied; could be a fan, another super, a villain out of costume, a security guard for the event, reporter, etc.

They should have sent Mimic, he was better with press in general and everyone seemed to love him, but no the city wanted either Atlas or Armory because of their established history as heroes; because they were well seasoned; veterans. None of that really mattered now, though, because Atlas could hear the crowd's roaring applause outside; the event carrying on without him.

Still wearing the mask over his eyes, and his tactical vest, Atlas looked like a parody of himself; his pants, and boots, long abandoned on the bathroom floor as he was folded over one the toilets; his knees pushed towards his chest as his massive broad shoulders and thick, tree-trunk like arms struggled to fit within the thin walls of the stall as the man with him remained in place between his legs; looking down at Atlas with an almost smug grin as he pushed into the older hero.

"Fuck," Atlas groaned, the sound heavy under his breath, "B-better than an autograph, right?"

Thanks to my darling @seeking-moonscapes for tagging me! I was a little unsure of what wip to share sentences from so it took me forever to decide. Have seven sentences from the “nowhere else to go” wip that @prany and @lovelypattranite requested FOREVER ago (that I’m still working on).

(This was put in my queue on shuffle, so it’s definitely no longer Sunday LOL)

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He’s got bruises blooming on his face and he’s leaning heavily against the door frame, holding his side. A quick glance to his hands and Pran is sucking in a breath through his teeth. His fists are bloodied, cut, and bruised as well. He looks awful. He also appears to be seconds away from keeling over. 

Pran swears under his breath and reaches out as Pat tips forward, winding his arms around his waist. He resolutely ignores the voice screaming in his head of warm, warm, warm.

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(〃＾▽＾〃)

You're not stopping The Engine.

59 days until Phoenix Mercury's Home Opener (if the wnba gets it together and pays the players)