#Brian does stupid shit

[loveinhawkins]

i’ve recently become aware of this starcourt mall commercial & i’m dying at the thought of Eddie seeing it, bored out of his mind, until Steve appears on screen with that stupid sailor’s hat and the world’s most awkward, “Ahoy!”, and, oh, Eddie’s grin is evil.

“Why did you tape over Dallas?” Wayne asks that night.

“Wayne,” Eddie says solemnly, “I needed to record the best moment of my life.”

Of course, Steve finds the tape later, because the universe likes to laugh at Eddie, apparently.

Spring Break of ‘86 is a few weeks away—thanks to one distracted moment, Eddie unknowingly puts the wrong tape in the case before returning a rental to Family Video, then speeding off to band practice.

Steve doesn’t notice the mixup until a few hours later, when he routinely opens the VHS cases to check that the tapes have been rewound. When he sees the tape devoid of any movie sticker, he can’t resist watching it; his shift is dragging by.

He gets 20 minutes into Dallas before it cuts off, and the commercial plays.

His jaw drops, and he groans in embarrassment, but he’s laughing when he calls for Robin in the back room, and then they’re watching it together, cracking up. They both remember filming it, remember looking at each other and swearing to never speak of it again, but they’d never actually seen it, and well… it is pretty funny.

Steve gets an evil grin of his own when he sees that the rental account is in Eddie’s name.

When he calls, he gets Mr. Munson on the phone, and because Steve can also be a meddling little shit when the conditions are right, he makes up some story about the store having new forms, that he just needs Eddie to sign one quickly.

The next day, Eddie strolls in, and Steve looks him right in the eye.

“Ahoy, Munson,” he says, deadpan.

Eddie freezes in place. He briefly considers turning around and walking into traffic.

“Harrington,” he says stiffly.

“Hey, man,” Steve says, relentlessly chipper, “so we’re kinda down on one copy of—” He glances over to the computer. “—Life of Brian, and up one copy of, uh…” He lifts Eddie’s tape off the counter, smirks. “I guess, half of Dallas.”

Eddie stalks over. “It was… for school,” he blurts out unconvincingly. “Recording Hawkins history. Nothing personal, King Steve.”

Steve lets the venom in the nickname bounce off him. “Starcourt was pretty, uh, historic,” he says mildly, fighting another smirk.

“Whatever,” Eddie snaps, losing what little patience he has left—despite all of his performances to the contrary, the thought of people laughing at him still makes his skin crawl. “Let me get out of your massive hair, Harrington, and I’ll bring your fucking video back.”

Steve raises one hand, palm out. “Woah, chill,” he says, and as Eddie’s nostrils flare, he feels a little twinge of guilt; he didn’t actually mean for all of this to come across as mean-spirited or anything. “Sorry, man. I’m not trying to be a dick, I swear.”

Eddie rolls his eyes. “Could’ve fooled me.” But he looks a little calmer, raises an eyebrow. Well?

“Here,” Steve says, handing over the tape, and he doesn’t react when Eddie snatches it back. “Oh, and I extended the rental on your movie.” He shrugs. “Saves you a double trip, y’know?”

“Thanks,” Eddie says, after a pause.

“No biggie.” And when Eddie makes to leave, Steve calls, “Hey, Munson?”

Eddie turns at the door, no longer quite as cagey. “What?”

Steve shrugs again. “Thanks for the mixup, I guess?”

“You’re kidding,” Eddie says flatly.

“No, I mean it, dude. Like, once I got over the, well, embarrassment of, um, everything, it was actually kinda… nice to see it.” He nods to Robin in one of the aisles, guiding a customer over to a movie. “Me and Robin, we—it was nice to have something about Starcourt that we could laugh at.”

Eddie considers him. “Were you in the fire?”

Steve smiles, and if Eddie didn’t know any better, he’d say there’s more than straightforward sadness on his face. “Yeah, got caught up in it.”

Eddie slowly, thoughtfully, opens the door but doesn’t leave, leans against it. He looks Steve up and down. “Damn shame you don’t have a hat in your get-up here, Harrington.”

Steve mock scowls, ruffles his hair. “I’m not suffering through that again.”

Eddie finds himself smiling without meaning to. “You poor thing. I guess once is enough.”

And Steve rolls his eyes this time. “Yeah, yeah, once. You’ve goddamn immortalised it, Munson.”

Eddie snorts. “Oh, but I had to,” he says, tucking the tape under his arm, “for posterity. In a hundred years, there’ll be sonnets written about your sailor outfit, Steve Harrington.”

And, whoops, that wasn’t planned, Eddie thinks. Laying it on a bit thick there.

Steve laughs, but not at him; Eddie can tell now. “Go enjoy your Saturday, Munson.”

Eddie gives a lazy salute. “Ahoy.”

And as Eddie leaves, he spots a note on the counter, next to the usual Be kind, rewind reminders. It’s handwritten, with a cartoony winking face: And check what’s inside!

[yummymitzy]

No one noticed

Summary: You loved undercover missions, they were a breeze, but what you encounter afterwards definitely switched up your mood. What happens when that encounter sends you back into an old habit?

WC: 5,205

A/N: Slightly inspired by the song, but I didn’t know how to go about it😞 ANGSTY?

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x Pyrokinesis! Reader

————♡————

Receiving the chance to be an Avenger was incredibly shocking, not expecting such an offer for somebody like you. Not like you were poor or anything, you had a crap ton of money, but you didn’t necessarily have a clean record.

You partook in street racing, that was definitely one thing that didn’t make your record any cleaner. Having also helped your friend, Brian O’Connor, while he was on the run from law enforcement. You both raced together, the two of you were reckless, inseparable, always feeling the need to do dumb shit.

You weren’t so sure what he’d gotten himself into that led him to evading law enforcement, where he used to work. But later on, you assumed that the situation was brushed aside as he was recruited into the FBI. You were proud of him. 

You always admired Brian, he was always so focused on the task at hand but always left enough time to do stupid things with you.  You eventually started assisting him with his tasks assigned by his peers, the both of you catching fugitives as you raced.

You told him everything, there wasn’t any filter between the two of you. He even knew about the fact you were enhanced, and yet his attitude towards you never changed one bit. As a kid, you were transferred from multiple foster parents, which lead you in the hands of one couple.

They looked nice and sweet, pretty old, but once they knew got a good impression with you, they started experimenting on you. They even started sending you to their other scientist friends to use you as a lab rat. 

One day, one of the tests pushed you so far, you don’t remember much from that day. You heard screams, your screams specifically, but then you went unconscious. Once you woke up, the room was charred, the scientists nowhere to be found other than their black fragmented lab coats.  

You insanely thankful for that part of your life being over, especially to the couple that took you in right after. The couple that you now call your parents, they helped you thick and thin and always understood you.

Since you were always traded around throughout foster homes, you taught yourself to be more behaved in an attempt to stay in that home. Not like those cases where you say “you don’t cry,” because you do, everybody does, you just were more silent. 

You always shut down whenever you had a lot of shit going on, long periods of silence as your mind raced. The couple were the ones that you found solace in when you first discovered your powers. 

They were panicked at the first glimpse, but immediately consoled you, soon calming down the once bright flames that cascaded up your arms. They helped you stay on the low, it practically made you tear up with how kind they stayed with you.

But after college was when you really got into street racing, you met Brian. But there was one specific race that didn’t go well, there was this one irritating drug lord that you decided to track down with Brian. 

Trying to reason with the drug lord really didn’t end out well for you two because a fight broke out. The fight was nasty and blood was shed, the drug lord brung out guns that you or Brian didn’t even expect he’d have in his grasp.

You were shocked to say the least when he pointed the barrel of his gun towards Brian, but that quickly wore off. And like the brawn you were, bright flames flared up your arm, your eyes a golden hue as you lunged at the man. 

It was as if the fire was dancing as it burst away from your arm, traveling to the other men in the room, engulfing them in the fire while you rushed towards Brian. 

That was the first time you had ever killed someone, hell even a gang. It was dreadful, the memories clouded in your mind the next few weeks after the incident. But you knew one thing, you’d do it all again if it was for Brian.

————♡————

All of that brought you to where you stood today, an Avenger and street racer. A lot has changed once you got settled in the hero life, you even more proud to say that Natasha Romanoff took an interest to you.

It was embarrassing to admit that you admired Natasha ever since you joined the Avengers. She was incredibly wary of you the first few weeks, but quickly warmed up to you. In her words, you were like a “golden retriever puppy,” you weren’t honestly sure if it was a compliment or not.

That friendship that you built with Natasha blossomed to be more, and soon enough, you found yourself to be at her doorstep. A bouquet of flowers grasped tightly in your hold as your other hand held a neatly wrapped gift bag with her favorite perfume.

You were so glad Natasha took an interest in you, because that first date turned into three, soon with you two becoming official. You two obviously wanted to take it slow and learn the grasps of a relationship together.

That was three months ago, you and Natasha are still together happily. You were proud to say that you loved her, she knew stuff about you that you would never dare to tell a soul. Same with her, she confided in you about her past in the redroom, especially with her nightmares.

Natasha was the sweetest soul you could have ever came across, she has a hard exterior, similar to a rock. But have the right tools and it will crumble into pebbles, that’s what you loved about Natasha.

Were you rambling too much? Hah, maybe.. You were sent out on a solo mission just a few hours ago, the details of the mission in your lap as you read through them. Don’t worry, the jets on autopilot, why would they send you on a mission if you’d crash the quinjet?

The objective wasn’t difficult for you to complete, it was a simple undercover mission, you could probably do it with a blindfold on. You were supposed to get a hit on a man named John Adams.

His files could be written as a book with the amount of felonies he had under his name. You couldn’t really care less, who were you to let your emotions get in the way of your objective? 

The files stated that he would be attending an auction, buying off a very illegal weapon. Statements show from his recorded phone calls that he had specific plans to enhance the weapon, making it more “deadly.”  

Well that was a very lovely file, wasn’t it? Setting down the folder, you stood up, grabbing your duffel bag as you walked over to the medical bed. You unpacked a very revealing yet elegant dress, it was your favorite color. 

Well actually your favorite color to wear, not actually your favorite color, you get it? Yeah. You stepped out of your skin tight suit once you had unzipped it, the freezing air of the jet causing goosebumps to form on your arms. 

The moment you got the dress on, you took a few steps in front the mirror, actually taking a closer look at the dress. It had a deep V cut as the slit of the dress was incredibly high on your upper thigh. 

You squirmed of the thought of having to be all over the man with this revealing dress on, but you really did have no choice, plus you didn’t pack any other dresses. Rolling your shoulders, you head back towards your duffel bag, pulling out a small makeup bag and setting it down near the mirror as you unzipped it. 

Doing your makeup was like a fun hobby for you, you didn’t know how to describe it. You just really like doing it when you’re bored, but this is different since it’s for a mission. 

You don’t know how long you took on your makeup before your phone dings, the familiar ring echoing the jet as you rushed over to your phone. 

Flipping over your phone, the time immediately greets you. 6:45, the party starts at 7, but you need to be early in order to spot John. Skimming through the notifications on your lockscreen, one in particular catches your eye.

Natty🤍:”Goodluck on the mission, detka.” 

The first one said, it was sent a few minutes after you boarded the quinjet a few hours ago.

Natty🤍:”I miss you already. I’ll be waiting when you get back. :)” 

Your eyes drift toward when the message was delivered, an hour after her first message.

Awe. Her smiley faces were so cute. You quickly unlocked your phone and darted to Nat’s messages with you, your fingers flying over the keyboard as you typed up a quick message. 

Y/n/n🔥: “Miss you too, baby. Movie night when I get back?” 

Your attention quickly caught when you felt the quinjet land, you instantly shoved your phone in an extra holster you had on your thigh. 

What? It’s a perfect fit. Plus you’re wearing a dress with no purse, and you were practically forced to keep your phone on you. Fury always made sure to text everybody ominously.  

You rush over to the other side of the jet, where the weapons were held. You pause briefly to browse through the weapons before your hands instantly grab what you wanted.

Yeah, you had powers, so why would you need a weapon? Well the short answer to that would be incase he was aware that you would be attending, even more aware about your powers. So you weren’t going to take any chances.

The weapon that was held gently in your grasp was a ridiculously sharp sword, it was your favorite. If you had the chance, you would be rambling on and on about this exact sword. 

It was retractable, easy to conceal if you were undercover, but your favorite part was that it didn’t melt from your flames. But, that wasn’t the only thing it could do, it isn’t a one trick pony. 

Since the blade doesn’t melt from your flames, it bursts into flames, as if it were another part of your body. You found it fascinating because it truly was. It takes you back to when Bruce called it boring, you quite vividly remember telling him to fuck off. He did have it coming, didn’t he?

You retracted the blade and gently placed it into your other holster as you walk back over to the medical bed, slipping on your heels as you spritz generous amounts of perfume on your neck. 

Swiftly pulling out your phone, you check the time, 6:50. Damn, only five minutes passed by, you assumed it had been ten. Shoving your phone back into its holster, you check yourself once more as the ramp starts to lower.

Walking out the quinjet, you look over your shoulder once more and watch the jet conceal itself. You’ll honestly never get over that.

It took you a quick minute to find the fire escape stairs but soon enough you found yourself in the alleyway next to where the auction was supposed to be held. 

You straightened your dress again as you began to strut towards the very obvious entryway of the auction. This looks like it would be a very easy mission.

You huff to yourself as your gaze meets the bouncer, his gaze scanning you as he crosses his arms over his chest as his posture straightens up.

“Danielle Jones.” The fake name flowing out of your mouth with a silky tone as you show him your fake id. Your other hand lands on his bicep, slowly rubbing it as he immediately handed you back your id, his face flushed a deep red. 

Your fingertips trail up to his shoulder before pulling away as you stepped behind him and into the auction. The place was alive, there was a ton of people dressed beautifully, some clad in masquerade masks. 

You walked straight over to the bar, yeah, it was bad drinking on the job. But you desperately needed to blend in, and it wouldn’t make your case any better if the target saw you just wandering.

As you were scanning the area, your eyes snap to a familiar figure slumped at the bar nursing a drink. Dirty blond, curly hair, well you’ll be damned. 

You huff out a laugh as you approach, your hand gently resting upon his shoulder as you called out to the bartender for a whiskey.

“Hiya, Brian. What’cha doing here?” You smile at the bartender as a thanks once he handed your drink before turning. Your back leaning against the counter as you sipped your whiskey, your eyes trained on Brian.

“Meeting a friend.” His blue eyes travel from his glass towards you, meeting your stare. 

“Cut the shit, Brian. You’re here for the auction, aren’t you?” You raise an eyebrow at him, a smile tugging on your lips as you took another sip of your whiskey, setting it down on the counter behind you.

“You aren’t? The cars they got are practically calling our names.” He smirks as he leaned back in his seat, running a hand through his curls. 

You roll your eyes as you leaned back further into the counter, before your eyes snap towards him once more, a smile played on your lips.

“What’d you say for another task?”

“I’m listening.”

“John Adams, drug lord, wants to do stupid shit with one of the weapons being sold here.” You mumble under your breath, your eyebrow raising in question to confirm that he heard. 

Seeing his slight nod while he processes the information, your eyes trail away from him, spotting the target across the room from you two. The sight making you nudge your knee against Brian’s.

Brians eyes shoot up towards yours, before he slowly turns around to look in the direction you’re looking in. You assume he got the memo as he downs the last of his drink, his fingers slightly grazing the gun on his belt to make sure it’s in place before he gave a subtle nod to you.

Your gaze doesn’t break from John as you made your way across the room, rounding through the tables that stood in your way. As the distance closes between you and John, you whisper underneath your breath, enough for Brian to hear.

“Wait for me at the door of the bathroom, have your gun ready.” Before he could respond, you were already off towards John, your hips swaying slightly as the golden hues hit you.

The moment you passed by John, you heard a gruff voice call out to you. You smirk slightly before turning around, John was turned around in his chair as his arm was outstretched towards you slightly.

“Hey! You! Yeah you, come ‘ere, darling.” Your nose crinkles slightly at the pet name, you didn’t mind it. But you definitely didn’t like it when it came out of his mouth.

You walked towards the chubby man, your hips swaying more noticeably. Once you were stood right in front of him, his hands shot up to rest on your hips. The action made you clench your jaw in disgust.

“You’re such a pretty ‘lil thing. Did you come here with anybody?” His words came out slurred as you could practically smell the stench of beer flowing out of his mouth.

“No, I came alone.” 

“What’s your name, pretty girl?” His grin grow by the second as you feel his hands traveling from your hips to your waist.

“Danielle.” You husk out, the disgust washing over you, but you brush it aside. It’s for the mission. You repeated in your mind over and over.

You move forward a step from where you stood, your hands resting on the armrests that resided on either side of the man. You feel John’s hands slowly tracing down your waist before harshly groping your ass, making you gasp.

“Well, Danielle. What’d you think about coming back to mine?” He purred, his hands now massaging the flesh of your ass, your face contorting into a subtle wince.

“I can’t just go home with you. I don’t even know your name.” You husk, your face turning into a slight pout, one of your hands raising to trace his sternum.

“John, John Adams.” You felt one of his hands trailing up towards your lower back, attempting to push you down onto his lap. 

You grab his hand before tugging him up from his seat, leading him towards the bathroom. You can feel the harsh stare he has on your ass while the two of you walk there.

Once the bathrooms come into view, it took you a second you to Brian hiding in the room across the bathroom, the door slightly ajar. 

The two of you finally reached the door of the bathroom as you wrapped your arms around the mans neck in a hug. As you felt one of John’s hands holding you back, the other fiddling with the door, your eyes met with Brians.

Brian got the hint and you soon saw the barrel of his gun poke out slightly through the gap of the door. A muffled shot rung out at the same your flames burst out your hands, burning the flesh of his neck. You felt John’s body slump against yours, his hands falling down to his sides. 

You grunt as you shove him off of you, rolling your eyes and smiling as you saw Brian pop his head out before he opened the door fully and stepping out.

“That was quick.”

“Wish it was quicker, he was irritating.” You hold the bathroom door open as Brian swiftly kicks John’s body into the bathroom. As soon as you two quickly clean up the area, the two of you find yourselves back into the alleyway, making your way to the quinjet.

“Anyways, what’re you thinking for a snack. Shawarma?” 

————♡————

You and Brian were approaching the door that lead to the living room, where FRIDAY told you Natasha was. You didn’t plan on texting Natasha about your arrival, deciding that it was better as a surprise. 

The two of you hushed each other once you were finally stood right in front of the living room door with Shawarma takeout in your hold. But a precious sight graced itself the moment you both opened it. 

Another presence FRIDAY forgot to mention was Bruce. Your shoulders slump slightly as your arms tense at your sides. From the corner of your eye, you could see Brian’s jaw tightly clenched.

Brian was very fond of Bruce Banner, he really had it out for the scientist, even if Bruce wasn’t aware of that fact. During one apparently small mission, Bruce happened to be in the same place as Brian.

And you could practically guess what happened, Bruce turned green. You don’t know what the hell pissed him off but you didn’t give a shit. Hulk was destroying building after building in a tantrum, soon enough he reached the streets where Brian, you, and the rest of your friends were. 

Like expected, he demolished your cars, he was honestly so lucky he didn’t hurt your friends or you would have honestly blasted his brains out. But that wouldn’t change the fact that every single one of your cars were crushed, nothing to preserve.

To this very day, Brian still has a terrible grudge against Bruce, and you understood. Because not only did those cars that he crushed help you get money, they costed a crap ton to even own.

But this sight of him perched on the couch with Natasha was not pretty, at all. What made the scene even uglier was what you noticed to be Natasha’s hand on his chest, leaning her whole body into his side, practically cuddling into him.

You didn’t notice your flames flaring up the length of your arms before you felt Brian nudge you, the action making you glance at him. He sent you a subtle shake of his head, mouthing the words “It’s not worth it.”

As your eyes were trained on Brian, you heard a familiar giggle echo throughout the room, the both of your heads snapping to the origin of the sound. 

Natasha’s other arm was now wrapped around his neck, the both of her arms now encasing Bruce in a hug. Your eyes trail down towards her phone, next to the arm of the couch, discarded. From your place at the door, you could see your last message on her lock screen. 

That’s why she didn’t reply to your message. Damn. She could have at least read it, or hearted it. Your heart ached, yearning for comfort, comfort from the person that was sat a few feet from you.

Your eyes glance towards Brian once more, his eyes now hardened, before he nods to you, giving you the affirmative. 

Taking quiet steps behind the couch, you were now stood behind the two cuddled individuals. Your eyes gleaming a dangerous gold as the veins in your forearm shone a deep red, sparks threatening to blow.

“Uht. Uht. What the fuck is this?”Your eyes narrowing as the two individuals before you jumped from their place, scrambling away from each other once they saw the golden hue within your eyes.

“It’s not what it looks like, milaya.” Natasha struggled to get up as her knees buckled from beneath her, before she shot up, rounding the couch with her arms outstretched to you.

“Cut the bullshit, I’m not dumb. Cuddled up with Banner while you couldn’t even think to text me back?” You hissed, the glow in your eyes intensifying as you can hear the springs of the couch springing back into place as Bruce attempted to stand up.

From your peripheral, you could see Brian unholstering his gun from his waistband, immediately holding the barrel to Bruce’s forehead in warning.

“Everybody else was called on a mission, we were just passing time until you got back.” She pleaded as her hands reached out to cup your face, to which you immediately recoil and drop the takeout.

“You’re funny. You call that passing time? Might as well fuck if you were just “passing time.” You laughed as you leaned back on your heels, your face hardening once more, arms crossing over your figure. An attempt to cover up the fact that tears were slightly welling up in your eyes.

“Listen, I’m not up to hearing your excuses, especially when I just got back from a mission. Just...” You sigh, your knuckles popping as your hands formed into tight fists, crescent moon shaped marks taking shape on your palm with how tight your grip was.

“Just..Make up your damn mind, alright? Come back to me when you do.” You take a deep breath, the glow in your veins dispersing once you composed yourself.

“But I choose you! Y/n, it’s you..” She pleaded once more, her voice hushing into a whisper as she takes in the reality of the situation.

“So all we’re doing is just telling jokes today, huh? If it really was me, then you’d still be waiting for the movie night, and not be on the couch with Slimer from fucking Ghostbusters.”

“I promise you-“ “Don’t. You wanna tell jokes? I got one for you. How about…Hm.. That green booger almost fucking ruined my career that me and Brian spent so long trying to build. How’s that for a joke?”

Your nose crinkles as your hands stretches out to point towards Bruce. Sighing, you run a hand down your face, rolling your eyes in annoyance. You take one last deep breath as you straighten yourself up.

“I want you to really think this through.” You deadpan, before your gaze meets Brians, your eyes giving him the memo that this altercation was done as he holsters his gun.

The two of you slowly walk back to the door where you walked in from, you looked behind your shoulder once more, analyzing the room before it slowly meets Natasha’s.

Natasha held a pleading look as tears welled up in the corner of her eyes, her nose beginning to turn a light shade of pink. The sight made you turn your head away from her, you could practically feel the intensifying cracks in your heart. 

Once the door finally shut behind the two of you, the silence rattled Natasha, her shoulders shaking in quiet sobs. The tears falling down her cheeks as she cried, unsure whether it was stress or the loss of you.

♡ 

You don’t know how either of you found yourselves here, it was a closed off track near the ocean, and somehow the two of you thought it was perfect to race against each other.

At first you brushed off the idea, deeming it stupid at a time lime this. But the more you thought about it, you loved night races, the view was always beautiful. 

Soon enough, you gave in to Brian, shuffling the keys out of your pocket as you both head to the garage with your treasured cars. You ended up picking a random car, it wasn’t too shabby. 

It was a car that Suki gifted to you, you happened to be good friends with her alongside Brian. To be frank, you forgot all the context to why she gave you the car.

The car was cute though, it was your favorite color, the interior of the car had LEDS you assumed and it also lit up your favorite color. You wondered why you never used this car more often.

Once you notice that Brian finally picked out his car, the two of you drove to the start of the track, smirks played on your faces.

“Don’t get dusted, bullet”

“Now you know damn well.”

The two of you laugh before you rev your engines, your eyes locking onto the track ahead of you as you leaned back into your chair slightly.

1.

2.

…3

And you two were off, you both drifted your way through the track. Taking a quick glance to your left, you see Brian with a cocky smirk on his face, the sight making you roll your eyes before you floor it.

The distance between you and Brian starts to increase little by little. Once you start to approach the corner, you drift into it, effectively dusting Brian as your view of him disappears, smoke filling the air and blocking it .

Quicker than you expected, the two of you were approaching the end of the track, and stood there was a figure not too far from the track. The minute you got closer, the striking red hair was the first thing your eyes saw.

You immediately brake once you reached the end, slouching in your seat slightly as you waited for Brian to catch up, which didn’t take long. Stepping out the car, your nose slightly scrunches up at the smell of smoke but you shake it off.

You met Brian half way and shook his hand, his eyes holding a playful look as he shoves you lightly, you roll your eyes at his action.

“Warned you about being dusted, gotta deal with the repercussions.” 

“You cheated.”

“Cheated where?”

The both of you close your mouths at the sound of someone clearing their throat. Taking a deep breath, you turn your body to face Natasha, a confused expression plastered on your face as she stood there with her arms crossed.

“Can I talk to Y/n? Alone?” She gestured towards Brian, making him turn his head to look towards you with a concerned look. To which you nod with a soft smile gracing your lips. 

“Wait in the car, I’ll meet you there, bullet.” Brian hesitated for a moment before patting your shoulder, walking off in the direction of his car. 

Once he was out of earshot, your gaze falls onto her, a questioning look in your eyes as you mimic her movements by crossing your arms.

“Okay look. Y/n, I’m sorry. I..” She lets out a deep sigh, her hands rubbing over her biceps in a form of comfort as she musters the words to speak.

“I wasn’t sober. I was in the kitchen at first, had a glass of wine, but then he came and conjured a conversation while slowly urging me to drink more.” The words practically left you shellshocked, but you knew better than to believe so quickly.

“That’s when we ended up on the couch, originally there was space between us, but he pulled me towards him.” 

“But that doesn’t explain why you didn’t pull away, you stayed like that until I walked in and said something.”

“Because I wasn’t sober! Y/n. You’ve seen me reject him so many fucking times so why can’t you believe me on this?” 

“Because it’s so easy to lie with words, Natasha. But actions never lie, they never do.” 

“I promise you, detka. I’m not lying. He made moves onto me while I was drunk. Please believe me.” She practically begged as she stepped closer and closer to you until she was directly in front of you.

“It’s so hard to believe you, Natasha.. You never answered my text, hell your phone was across the damn couch. You were giggling at every single word that he said.” 

“I-.” “See that’s my point, Nat.”

“Baby, he took my phone.” 

“We playin jokes again?” Your eyebrows furrow as your eyes narrow at Natasha, either it was true or it’s some wack ass excuse.

“No! No. Babe. I promise. It was at the table. I was gonna text you after my first glass of wine but he snatched it, threw it to god knows where. That’s why I had no choice but to talk to him.”

You sigh, shutting your eyes as you raised your hand to run through your hair while you were deep in thought, your eyes flickering beneath your eyelids. There was a few minutes of silence between you two as you pondered.

Your eyes shoot open as you slowly check the time on your phone, it was midnight. You zone out for a minute before blinking back into reality, your eyes shifting towards Natasha’s pleading ones.

“I believe you. We’ll talk more about it tomorrow once we’re rested, but you’ve got a lot of making up to do.” Your voice drops to a soft yet stern tone, trying to soothe Natasha before she actually cried. 

“Thank you, malyshka. I love you.” She mumbles before pulling you into a tight hug, wrapping her arms around your shoulders. You froze for a moment, not sure if you should forgive her that fast. 

But you gave in, your arms wrapping around her midsection as they gently rubbed her spine. You were going to have a long talk with Bruce before you could forgive Natasha, but it was best to at least assure her that you don’t hate her.

“I love you too, baby.” You mumble into her hair. Bruce was definitely going to hear from you, maybe you might let Brian get some words in. You weren’t sure. That was all a plan for tomorrow.

[d0g0r0t]

can I pls have yandere Toby??? pretty please

Yandera Toby

TW:GROSS SHIT!!! Obsession, stalking, violence, sh

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEKKKKK!!!!!!!

He's low-key so pathetic

Seeing how pretty and kind you are he couldn't help but fall... well become obsessed

Your his!.... who the fuck are they? Why aren't you with him your supposed to be with him not them!

Yea no. He's all over the place when it comes to you

He'll sneak into your house, stealing things that smell like you or remind him of you

Stealing your perfume and using that shit like Febreze. He can barely breath in his own room anymore cause he used the whole bottle, reeking the room with your smell

He steals your deodorant, shampoo, conditioner, bodywash. Just to feel a little closer to you

He takes your underwear every now and then. Over time you'll find it on your door step all... sticky and.. what the fuck is that smell?

It's gross.

He takes your worn out shirts ALOT. You always looking threw your closet trying to find that one band tee the just suddenly disappeared

He'll give them back once he has you <3

Leaving you with little hickeys and red bruises on your neck when you sleep

He loves seeing you wake up in the morning confused on why you have these marks on your throat knowing damn well you didn't go out that night

He really does like you. He sees his obsession as a simple crush when it really isnt

He's never had someone he can see romantically so it was weird when he found out he DID love you

He gets emotional. Seeing you with someone else or not by his side

It feels like your betraying him even tho you don't know he exists

He talks about you SO.MUCH

It's like that stupid "hey masky" thing but instead it's "y/n" over and over again

Tim AND Brian have both rocked his shit because he wouldn't shut up

He has so many pictures of you on his walls. Some of you sleep, some of you eating, working, brushing your teeth, bathing. It's insane how many his got of you

He stalks your socials with his victims phones, getting BEN to figure your locations and you WHOLE life story

He knows a little to much about you

"Oh! Y/n order pizza last night at 7:46pm!"

"How... how the fuck do you know that?.."

He knows all of your accounts on and social. He wants to like your stuff but he doesn't want you to know him just yet

He screenshots your stuff and favoring all your videos to the phone

His wallpaper his your face and his password his you name or birthday

His tics slowly started to form around you as well. Him randomly stuttering out your name or something about you

The moment he actually kidnaps you is when he killed everyone you know and love

He's the only one you should love and think about. Just like him!

He holds you in his bed, ropes around you wrists and ankles

He would never put you in some nasty basement your to pretty for something like that

He stares at you for hours. Watching you struggle and squirm as desperate tears stream down your face. His head and arms rested up on the bed as he just watches you

He only keeps you tied you to his bed for a little while

He may be crazy but he's not abusive and wants you to be comfortable... kinda

He never hurts you, or tries not to

The only time he'll hurt you is if you try to leave him

But let's just hope you don't do that

He keeps you locked in his room for God who knows how long

He brings you your favorite goods and drinks and overall treats you well

He knows you won't love him right away but he doesn't want you to hate him

He asks if he can touch you or do certain things

If you say yes he's praising you and thanking you. But if you say no he begs for a bit but understand after a moment

He doesn't want to hurt you, he really doesn't

The idea of you being in pain from his hands reminds him of his father and the way Lyra looked after every beating broke him

He doesn't want to see you like that

He literally BEGS you if he can kiss you. On his hands and knees "PLEASEEEEEEE"

When you do he's shaky and doesn't know where to put his hands. He gets so needy for your lips and becomes a bit aggressive

Biting your lips, shoving his tounge in your mouth. It's wild

He bites at his fingers so much just thinking about you to where he starts bleeding.

Or scratching at his skin at the thought of you with someone else

Sad

NSFW

GROSS SHIT!!!_______________________________________

Jerks off to your pictures every night no questions asked

Uses your underwear as a cum rag hints why it's so gross and sticky

He's moaning your name softly as he cums, whimpering and gripping at the sheets just thinking about how gorgeous you are

CAN NOT control himself around you

He has so little sex life he's like a 14 boy who just hit puberty and can't look at a girl in the eyes

He's tenting so bad it looks actually painful

When you catch him staring at your body he turns in a mess apologizing that he was looking at the he didn't mean it like that. And covering his boner...

The thought of YOU and HIM was like a dream that he knew would never happen.

Feeling your soft gummy walls around him is all he thought about

When ever he touches you he gets needy and wanting to touch you even more

If you two are ACTUALLY involved don't be surprised when randomly you get groped aggressively

He loves seeing you squirming and trembling under him. Soft tears streaming down your pink face as he bucks himself balls deep. Heavenly

SORRY ONCE AGAIN SHIT IS TAKING SO LONGGG

Also ik u didn't ask for NSFW I just had to 💀

[ivoryisking]

tim wright headcanons

The Operator’s effects on him are strong

He’s always popping pills to fight them

He plays the leader, but will always follow Brian’s advice

He’s a tank- more brawn than brain

For the most part, he’s not multi-faceted; behind the mask, he’s pretty much the same

However, that really is him blacking out, and being unresponsive to Reader is not him ignoring cries, he is unable to break out of the state on his own

The Operator has to release him, he’s mentally weak compared to the entity

He does still follow you to work and home, but mostly for security measures, and he does not take pictures and send them to you.

He’s emotionally unintelligent/constipated

That sideburn hasn’t been shaved since the beginning of time

Dadbod 24/7

He’s not stupid, he’s just not EJ and Brian smart

Gruff as hell, but not as truly icy as Brian

He loves his sarcasm though

He’s a walking cigarette

Takes his coffee black

No fucking cheesecake, you psychopath fanons. That was a jibe at calling his actor fat. 

Thinks he’s the hot shit 

Pretends he doesn’t care if people like him or not, but it bothers him on the inside

Reader has to knock his ass down a few notches

He’s triumphant as hell when he finds out Reader likes him

But then he doesn’t know how to proceed

First kiss with him will leave him lying on the floor like an idiot

Shows he cares by existing in the same room

He handles physical contact okay, he just prefers his personal bubble

He kind of sucks at comfort, but tries and succeeds most of the time, albeit awkwardly

The actor played guitar, but Tim should like it too. He wears flannel. That speaks for itself.

He’ll play angsty or angry music if he’s mad at Reader

If not, he’ll play anything and everything they request if he can

He’s a teddy bear in an grumpy old man body

the drabble that comes with it can be found on any of the platforms i use; ao3, quotev, and wattpad- linktree in my bio if you find my works anywhere else, please let me know!

[xstarkillerx]

okay but can we talk about brian and letty and you??? like maybe brian's driving and letty's got you on her lap and you're riding her thigh and she's got that fucking smirk on her face and brian is like white knuckling the gear shift because he can't and it's just too much and you're begging letty to move but shes just guiding your hips soooo slowly???

or maybe letty's driving and brian's got you in the backseat just edging tf out of you and you're basically crying bc you just want him to let you finish but letty is watching through the rearview and she's telling brian he better not let you come or else...

i need a fucking drink holy shit

Oh my darling, darling anon if you haven't seen Crash 1996, I think there's a scene you'd absolutely love, it's almost this exactly... unless you're sending this because you HAVE watched crash, well then in that case...

I don't have much to add to this but I honestly love it so much, the Brian and Letty dynamic has so much potential because I honest to god think that with her personality in that first movie that she'd love meandomming him. Look at that clueless blond pretty fuck who follows Dom everywhere and wandered his stupid ass onto their team by losing a race, can't even finger a girl properly without a little help. So the thought of her in that front seat telling him how to touch you, listening to all your pretty noises while you fruitlessly whine at her to tell Brian to go faster, deeper, more, please, is so fucking hot. She'd laugh that cocky laugh when you get particulary pitchy and pathetic, and utter the occasional "Jesus Christ O'Conner," when the squelch his thick fingers sliding in and out of your dripping pussy gets too much. I see your "she's telling brian he better not let you come or else" and I raise you a: she's driving his car, so she says to cum all you fucking want, squirt all the the interior for all she fucking cares, because Brian's a gross fuck who likes when his car smells like sex and sweat and squirt, it's the only thing that keeps those "skanks" at the meet off his scent. Maybe he does like it, maybe he doesn't, what matters is Letty said it and that makes it true for him, he's easy. And besides, Letty likes you all messy and tired out anyway when it's her turn; covered in your own cum and worn out from Brian's fingers, she probably makes him jerk himself until he cums all over your pussy so she can eat you in the back seat.

[m1ssunderstanding]

Get Back Rewatch 55 Years On: Day 21: The Concert

Every time they're not on camera I simultaneously feel so relieved for them and so upset that I don't get to watch. Messed up of me, but hey. Remember that slightly disturbing quote where Paul said he actually does believe he's kind of public property and he's fine with that?

He looks so determined. Like the fairy tale prince staring down the dragon or Enjolras about to hijack a funeral (Literally my baby was conceived after I watched this in IMAX so if that tells you anything about my feelings . . . I'm going to be annoying I'm sorry I can't help it)

Her legs look so good in those tights! I love that Mo came not because her boyfriend needs his mommy but because she wants to see them perform! Kissing her on the mouth right now.

Danger boy Paul!

Fun fact, I was this John for Halloween in 2021 to a college party. My hair was already like that, and I had dirty white keds and black jeans, so I just did fake sideburns, fake glasses, and a fake fur coat. I tried to get my best friend to be Paul. She wanted to be a hooker, and I was like “It’s the same thing!”

See, look at him and his whorish ways!

John’s little lip-bit smile. He’s so happy with himself nailing that solo. Cutie. 

Cocky boys. As they should be. I love when they’re proud of their work together. Get Back is 95% just Looks between John and Paul, isn’t it?

John and Paul instantly jump into their little “humble working class entertainers” act. You know what just occurred to me? You know how they talked about the “rattle your jewelry” comment backstage and Paul dared John to say it? I wonder if they talked about the “audition” comment too.

It really is a beautiful thing they’re doing. It’s lovely, watching everyon leave their desk jobs and their shopping and whatever else to sit in their fire escapes and congregate in the street and huddle together on rooftops. It really is just like the happy end in a sixties zeitgeist movie. 

All the girls nervous to be too enthusiastic after years of being made fun of themselves and watching others like them being mocked on TV. Let girls like things, damnit!

Mo jamming! I’m in love.

John mouthing Paul’s lyrics.

“Paul McCartney singing that. What a voice.” Literally me if time travel existed. 

“And if SOMEBODY loved me like she does,” Well, it is good manners to look at the person you’re talking to, I guess. But you do have an audience, John. And a mic and a camera. 

“Absolutely disrupt all the business in this area.” Yes! Get those blue meanies, boys!

“No lay rishi gahd blay bloojaygoo” should replace all the stupid quotes the Lennon estate puts on everything they sell. Then I’d actually want their shit. Paul trying to magic the words from his head into John’s there. Successfully, though.

That “Pleeeeeheeeeease” is one of the prettiest beatles vocal moments. I love it with all my heart. And clearly, so does Paul. Doing that thing he does, inappropriately thrusting into his bass. 

Oh my gosh it’s the song Paul and John do together on tour right now!

That “Yyyyyeeeeeah, yeaaaaaah!” (I mean the whole song, the whole concert, but especially that) does things to me. 

John’s extremely blurry, because he turned his head quick enough to give him whiplash there, sorry everyone. But look! They’re having the time of their lives! They just love performing together so much!

Everyone goes to check on their accumulating audience. (except Paul. Wonder what that’s about.)Ringo’s little pleasantly surprised smile is so so sweet!

It must be so fun for them to be performing One after 909 again after all these years. Bitter sweet with everything that’s changed since then. 

LMAO Kevin thank you for your service!

He’s a silly cutie.

The mic in the street asking that girl if she’d like them to come back every lunchtime. Imagine if they did? How cute would that be? Like back to their cavern lunchtime shows. Maybe that could’ve saved them.

Them playing God Save the Queen reminds me of that story where Brian was like, “This bigger manager wants to buy your contract from me, and I just wanted to be straight with you. They could probably get better deals for you.” and they were like, “If you sell us to him we’re only playing God Save the Queen from that moment on.” It’s probably a fake story, but that’s what it made me think of. 

I always think that quote of Paul’s is so strange, where he was like “I never got the chance to watch John while we were playing.” Like. What are you talking about, baby?

Literally “Uh. Yeah. Uh. Yeah.” Fucking his bass. Staring at John. Okay? And I’m not supposed to take that and run with it? I’m not supposed to assume from that that you want to fuck your songwriting partner?

I think he genuinely wants to get arrested. I really do. I think he wants them all to get arrested so they can finally be alone in a room together. A lovely cell for four. Just shimmying at them. And Billy looking at him like, Bro. What the fuck is wrong with you?

Paul’s “woo” and shimmy :: John’s “woo” and weird little kick move. And Paul looks so fond, of course. 

God bless Mal for stalling those little fucks as long as humanly possible. And Debbie! “Don’t actually go on the roof because it’s overweight.” Gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss!

Absolutely LOVE John and George turning their amps back on. That’s right. You guys are what’s keeping the country going at this point, so if you want to play on your roof they better let you play on your roof and say thank you.

All the times when they just simultaneously turn to each other. Like, yes, this is our que to stare hungrily into each other’s eyes. 

My stomach just dropped at those words across the screen. “This was the Beatles’ last public performance.” We know, Peter Jackson. You don’t have to remind us. Jeez. 

John and Paul’s two very different but equally important leadership roles in the band at work here at the end of the concert. John delivers his iconic line, makes everyone laugh, and seals the band’s last performance with a very tight bow. Meanwhile, Paul’s climbing the gate to bypass the crowd and schmooze the police out of arresting Mal. 

THIS is sooo cute. Heads buried together and John’s very sweet, “‘s’matter? Hmm?” 

George is so cute here in the control room afterward. No wonder they don’t listen to his not wanting to do things, honestly, if he acts like this after. “What’s the law say why you can’t do that? Well how disturbing the peace? Yeah, I’m for taking over London. And every rock group in the world all on different buildings, playing the same tune.” Adorable.

Poor John. It breaks my heart that he doesn’t think his little lyric flub is funny. He’s disappointed in himself. I wish he could see that that’s one of the things everyone loves about him. George was grinning ear to ear about it. For fuck’s sake, that’s one of the reasons Paul fell in love with you in the first place. If only John could see himself the way we see him, you know? 

This little moment cracks me up. John always has to be mommy’s naughty little boy, and Yoko does a very sweet job of playing her part here. 

Linda and Paul are so touchy and clingy and it’s very romantic and I love that Ringo joins in and makes fun of them.   

The whole after-show glow for everyone was just so palpable and fantastic. I wish they could've gone on performing together. Clearly it made all of them very happy.

[homestuckreplay]

dave's gonna be pissed!!

(page 339-343)

I love when a story introduces a few separate and seemingly unrelated elements, and then gathers them all together in a neat conclusion that's even more satisfying because it's kind of unexpected. Homestuck does this on a really small scale - for example, the Sassacre book crushing the smoke pellets on p.96 bringing together John's sylladex accidents, the father-son prankster's gambit, and the two previous mentions of the Sassacre book's ability to crush things. But this is my favorite example yet.

A pattern is established with John and Rose that each character gets a command formatted as [strange noise/action] like a [creature] and [bodily function] on your [furniture]. Neither of these are relevant.

Dave's command is 'Bleat like a goat and piss on your turntable'. (p.315) but Dave 'would never consider allowing any fluid even remotely resembling urine to touch your beloved TURNTABLES.'

John gets a Little Monsters movie poster for his birthday and messages Dave about his favorite scene, where a monster pees in a kid's juice.

Later in the story, we see Dave find the bottle of apple juice in his closet that he found at the same moment that he was inspired to message John.

The Sburb Beta discs are established early on as a coveted item in the world of Homestuck, its importance increasing until it becomes the only item that can save the world.

Dave, who had a copy of this game before its true importance was established, reveals that he has lost it, and that 'its a stupid story and id rather not talk about it shit be embarrassing yo' (p.294)

All this comes together very delightfully when Dave finds himself unable to drink his unopened bottle of apple juice, unsettled by John's suggestion that a monster could reseal the bottle after pissing in it. He puts the juice back in his sylladex and immediately picks up another item, which forcefully ejects the juice, explaining the story of how Dave's game discs got damaged and fulfilling the prophecy of allowing a fluid resembling urine to touch his turntables.

This comic is basically engineered in a lab to be like one of those photo galleries of tiles that perfectly interlock and candy that's arranged in a perfect color gradient, it scratches the same itch. It's a storytelling technique that has infinite potential, but only works if it's spot on.

The Dave characterization here is really striking. Little Monsters is a movie where monsters under kids' beds are 100% real supernatural entities that make use of weird spatial/dimensional rules to play mean pranks on kids. Despite his obvious coolness and mastery of irony, and how dismissive he is of John's movie based interests. Dave can't shake the part of his brain that's like 'but what if monsters are real, what if there's one under my bed too'. I think he's like Rose in terms of meticulously constructing a personality that feels more 'adult', but their more childish aspects still slipping through the cracks (and nothing shows this better than their conversation on p.333 where they sound like they're rehearsing dialogue for the stage).

I've been thinking about John embodying characters from all his favorite movies, but maybe Dave is actually the Brian Stevenson parallel, right down to the sunglasses.

[j0eyj0rdis0n]

would u possibly do a nsfw alphabet for Brian 🫣🫣 I love ur writing thank you !!

Of course love! I have to do one for everyone right? 🥰

BRIAN/HOODIE NSFW ALPHABET

A - Aftercare (what they're like after sex)

I don’t feel like there’s much aftercare with Brian, honestly y’all probably just doze off since the sex was so damn demanding. If there was aftercare it would probably be something like cleaning you up if you’re super messy and getting you something to drink before you two fell asleep

B - Body Part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partners)

boobz. He loves your fucking tits it’s crazy. Please let him rest his head 🙏🏻

On him though it’s probably his chest/abs. He’s TONED, not like super buff but definitely one of the most muscular looking creeps. And he’s damn proud of it. As he should be of course! So run your hands down his chest and his abs and he’ll be one happy man

C - Cum (anything to do with cum)

Literally anywhere you want him to, he will. Prefers in your mouth or on your face, but your boobs are just as good. But if neither of those are an option with you, just let him know and he’ll be flexible

D - Dirty Secret (dirty secret of theirs)

Tapes you even when he says he won’t. This man’s got secret cameras and you’d be stupid to think he doesn’t. Records every fuck when it’s in his room. He has HOURS of recordings

E - Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they're doing?)

He’s experienced for sure, he went to college so he’s definitely got a good amount of bodies. I feel like he’s a player too so that certainly doesn’t help 💀

F - Favorite Position

Missionary honestly. He’s boring like that but he makes it GOOD. Loves seeing your expressions when he’s fucking you just the right way.

G - Goofy (are they more serious in the moment or are they humorous etc?)

He’ll crack some jokes and tease a little but nothing super goofy you know? It’s all just to make you comfortable! If that’s not your thing then he’ll totally adjust too

H - Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes?)

So well groomed it’s crazy. He actually likes taking care of himself so it’s almost like a priority. Can definitely shave his hair into shapes n shit

I - Intimacy (how are they during the moment?)

He loves you and it shows. More than not he has his mask half on but you can still tell that he treats you with the most care in the world. He’s sweet and loves to praise if that’s what you’re into

J- Jack Off (how often do they?)

He’s casual about it, it’s more of like a morning wood kind of thing. He thinks it’s the best way to start your day. So you can usually find him slowly jerking it in the morning after he wakes up. He likes to take his time with it too. Groans your name as he does

K - Kink (one or more of their kinks)

He loves filming. That’s no surprise obviously but I mean he has a fucking tripod and probably multiple cameras so he can get multiple angles. He’ll go back and watch those when he jerks off too

L - Location (favorite places to do it)

His bed 100%. It’s the most comfortable for him and it just feels right. If he’s really feeling it he might fuck you against a wall somewhere or on the kitchen counter but not much more than that

M - Motivation (what gets them going?)

He’s kinda the same way as Masky, he likes it when you’re kind to others since it’s so contrasting to everyone else. But he especially loves it when you’re doing domestic things. Cooking, cleaning, you know the works. Would love it if you dressed up like a housewife too

N - NO (something they won't do)

Honestly there’s not anything he won’t do… 😬

O - Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Receiving of course. He’d love it if you woke him up with head. But if he’s going down on you he’s damn good with it. All that experience adds up you know ;]

P - Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual?)

Always depends on how he’s feeling. Some days it’s fast and rough while some it’s slow and gentle. You’ll usually be able to tell what kind of mood he’s in so you know what you’re getting yourself into.

Q - Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Not his thing. He never lets himself get that horny where he just needs to have you no matter where you are. But if you’re absolutely invested in a quickie, it’s hard for him to say no to you.

R - Risk (are they game to experiment, take risks, etc.)

Not a risky guy when it comes to location but every other risk he’s down for. Weapon play, breeding, any of it he’ll do.

S - Stamina (how many rounds can they go for?)

Probably around 5-7. He has a pretty high stamina but obviously he can’t last forever.

T - Toys (do they own toys? use them on themselves or their partner?)

Maybe a vibrator for you and some nipple clamps but nothing else. They’re strictly for you too. Don’t think about using them on him, he’s not a sub at all

U - Unfair (how much do they like to tease)

Not much when it comes to like orgasm denial, but verbally? Oh he loves it. He loves the way his southern drawl only adds to the effect it has on you, the way it noticeably makes your pussy wetter.

V - Volume (how loud are they? what noises do they make?)

Soft moaner if you’re super lucky but for the most part he’s a deep groaner/ heavy breather. Not loud at all but it’s loud enough to hit you right in your core

W - Wild Card (random headcannon)

Loves gunplay. Like I mean loves. The way your tears just stream down your face when he holds it to your temple, or when he slaps your pussy with the cold metal? It’s absolutely addicting to him. Sometimes it’s actually loaded and sometimes it’s not, you get to guess every time

X - XRay (lets see what's going on inside those pants)

Probably 6.5 - 7 ish inches, it’s veiny too! Not super girthy like Tim but he’s got some meat to it 😉

Y - Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Pretty high, he enjoys getting off and using sex as an outlet.

Z - ZZZ... (how quickly they fall asleep after)

Super quickly! But he’ll force himself awake if you’re not sleeping. His eyes will be wide open until you’re peacefully sleeping beside him.

[dcrkfics]

Saved by your stepdad

summary: Your stepfather saves you from going to prision but at what cost? 

warnings: smut, non con intercourse, stepdad trope, penetration, choking, infidelity, begging, and more. 18+ MINORS DNI!

a/n : I absolutely love fast and the furious and especially Brian so Imma start writing him more

word count | 1.3k

pairings | Step Father!Brian O Conner x stepdaughter!Reader.

“I can explain!” You yelled as your moms husband practically dragged you through the door.

“I literally caught you helping your boyfriend flush tons of cocaine down the toilet in your apartment. There isn’t any reasonable explanation for that.” Brian slammed the door. You stepped towards the living room. “Did you also help him murder that guy too?” He asked. “No Brian listen Mark is innocent I am innocent. Mark told me he was forced to carry the drugs with him he didn’t want to!” You explained. “You know that piece of shit was lying to you. Its what hes been doing for the past two years!” Brian yelled.

“Your lucky I was the one who walked in. The one who saw you because if I didn’t you’d be rotting away in a prison cell by now.” Brian exclaimed as he walked towards you. “I'm sorry” you mumbled.

Brian sighed and took off his jacket. Still contemplating what he was gonna do about you. “So what's gonna happen to Mark is he going…” “You're still thinking about that stupid boy after everything he did to you?” Brian asked. “Well…” “Don't even answer that” Brian yelled. You jumped when he yelled all the emotions you experienced tonight we're making you jittery and seeing Brian mad at you made you even more nervous.

Brian barely married your mother last year. You decided to move out with your boyfriend because you didn’t want to be a burden to your mom and her husband. Brain has always been respectful and kind towards you. Always welcoming you. You never saw him this angry then again you gave him all the reason to be.

“Is mom here?” You asked. You hadn’t heard her footsteps but her car was in the driveway. “My god you don’t even know?” He scoffed, shaking his head. His fingers grazed his chin looking at you.

“What kind of daughter are you? One thing is not answering your moms calls but not even reading her text messages? Grandma is sick and your mom went to visit her for a couple of weeks.” Brian shook his head. Your stomach churn. You had been so caught up in your boyfriend's mess that you didn’t even make time to call your mom back. You hated yourself right now you felt the tears forming and you couldn’t control them as they raced down your face.

“You were the most well behaved and sweetest girl when I first met you.” Brian walked towards you. His fingers collected the tears that spilled from your eyes. “All of sudden you ignore your mothers text, you dont visit her anymore, you are doing drugs now or worse dealing them?” He said as his hands stroked the side of cheek. “Either your incredibly in love with that son of a bitch or he fucks you so good your a cock dumb whore that does whatever he says” Brian hand was now around your neck choking you as you struggled to breathe. “Please Brian” You gasped as you grabbed onto his arm trying to move his hand but it was no use he was stronger.

“Not to mention your so fucking ungrateful.” Brian’s hands gripped your throat tighter as you tried to gasp for more air. “The first thing you do when we get here is ask about him. Fine you want to be with him we can take you to the station.” Brian's hand moves to your hair pulling it to drag you out the door.

“No Brian please! I'm sorry thank you thank you please don't take me I’ll be good I'm done with him please” you begged. Brian let go of your hair, smirked at how easy it was to get you to beg.

“You want to thank me? Then get on your knees.” Brian practically pushed your head down forcing you to get on your knees. “Brian please not this I’ll do anything else I’ll pay you money… or something else but not this please what will mom say?” You cried looking up at him through your lashes.

A dark chuckled escaped him as he unbuckled his pants. “All of sudden you care about her opinion” Brian taunted. “If you really care about what your mom thought you wouldn’t have even interacted with Mark. Why dont you be a good girl and open your mouth.” He said as he pulled down his boxers to free his springing erection.

You did as he said and opened your mouth wide enough to try and accommodate his size. You cringed at the fact that you would be sucking off moms husban. You closed your eyes as you took him in. Your tongue licking the precum. Although you were freaking out you had to control your breathing as you slowly wrapped your mouth around him. Tired of your slow pace Brian grabbed your hair and began to fuck your throat at a faster pace. You gagged repeatedly as he continued with no remorse for your throat. Your eyes filled with tears while drool seeped out of your mouth. You silently curse your body’s reaction as you felt yourself growing wet. You weren’t enjoying this but rather it was a reflex your body had everytime you sucked someone off it usually led to sex you were hoping this wasn’t one of those times. Brian's breathing labored. You felt him shake as he came inside your mouth, some of it drooling out. Brian removed his dick from your mouth as his finger guided whatever fluids had escaped from your mouth back into it. He didn’t even tell you to swallow you just did. “Already becoming such a good girl for your daddy…” He smirked at you as you looked up at him.

“I still dont feel appreciated enough… on your hands and knees.” He demanded. Your eyes widened but you were still obedient turning around and balancing on your hands and knees. Brian slowly lifted up the knee length dress you wore.

He pressed himself against your clothe core and leaned towards your ear… “Ungrateful girls get fucked on the floor… hope you can handle the rug burn.” He smirked as you tilted your head down accepting your fate.

“Fuck your soak” He commented as he inserted a finger inside you. “What do you think your mom will think if she knew you got wet just by sucking off her husband huh?” He teased. You felt him insert an extra finger and you welcomed him. You bit your lip trying to gulp down any moans. You weren’t enjoying this but your body seemed to and you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of thinking you were.

He removed his fingers expecting his cock you were surprised when instead you were met with his tongue. Brian's tongue went to work. Licking your juices and yapping at your core. Just when he believed you were ready for him he removed his tongue and aligned his cock with your entrance. 

You gasped as he forced himself inside you. Not leaving you room for your body to get used to him. He began to thrust, a hand on your hip to keep you still while the other hand was on the back of your head forcing your cheek to touch the carpet beneath you. “Fuck your clenching so hard around me.” Brain breathed as he slammed into you. “Your so quiet… its okay to enjoy this… I know you do.” Brian said. You didn’t reply, you thought it would be safer to stay quiet. “But your silence just proves that I can fuck you when your mom is around your such a good girl not making any sounds.” He talked. You tensed at that statement dreading to think that he was going to do this again. “Damn you clenched even harder. You like that idea? You want to get your brains fuck out by stepdad when your mom’s around.” You tried to shake your head no but it was useless. He continued to thrust into you before he slammed his hips one last time and let his release inside you. “You on the pill baby girl?” You shook your head no. “We’re going to have to fix that.” Brain said as he pulled out of you and placed his jeans back on. 

“Tomorrow you're moving back in here. Unless you want to spend 20 years of your life in prison you will do as I say. Understand?” He asked. But it wasn’t a question, it was a demand. You nodded your head insinuating that you understand. 

buy me a coffee <3

[fizzigigsimmer]

Back At One Part 2

Pairing: Caligator, Billy Hargrove x Gator Tillman

Fandom Fusion: Stranger Things & Fargo S5

Dom/Sub au

*Title taken from this truly sappy love song by Brian McKnight that these boys would NEVER admit was kinda okay lol.

<<<<PART I

“When is that fella of yours gonna make an honest man out of you?" Dot asks, just as Gator reaches for the pans stacked on top of the fridge, and he jerks, pulling too quickly, sending a cookie sheet clattering toward the kitchen floor - he just manages to save it. Scotty raises the cover of her book to hide her face, but his ears work just fine and he hears her snicker.

"What do you mean?" he gripes as he fumbles with the cookware. This is what he gets for trying to do something nice for his boyfriend on his birthday. "Billy's already registered as my dominant."

Which means if Gator really does burn the house down trying to make this fucking cake, Billy can have the honor of identifying his barbecued remains and save Dot the trouble.

Dot’s giving him this look though. Like she can see right through his bullshit. Let's get real. She always could read him like a book and play him like a fiddle.

“Alright, lets bake this mother fu-uuning,cake” Gator self corrects, remembering Scotty at the last minute. Shit that was close. Dot only has a few rules for when they’re together: no talking about the past when Scotty’s in earshot and no potty mouth. She literally calls it that. It’s kind of annoying though, cause the kid is like twelve right? Gator could curse in three different languages by the time he was twelve. But apparently that’s not the thing to be proud of that he thought it was when he was twelve.

“Real nice save Hon.” Dot laughs at him.

“Yeah yeah. Let’s just do this.” Gator grumbles in reply, and they do. 

Dot ties an apron around Gator's waist and hands him a mixing bowl while Scotty eagerly climbs up on a stool to read out the recipe as they work. She’s only meant to be walking him through the basics of a simple white cake with Billy’s name spelled out on it, but somehow the kitchen quickly descends into chaos. 

"Okay, first we need to cream the butter and sugar together until light and fluffy," Scotty reads.

Gator dumps an entire stick of butter and a heaping cup of sugar into the bowl. He picks up the electric mixer and jams it in after, cause that much he can figure out for himself. Only it sends a plume of sugar into the air the minute he powers it on. 

“Holy shit!”

"No, silly!" Scotty giggles. "You have to soften the butter first or it won't mix right."

Grumbling, Gator fishes the hard butter out of the bowl and tosses it into the microwave. A few seconds later, there's a loud pop - because he’s a fucking idiot and apparently it doesn’t take more than a few seconds to warm butter. One glance inside confirms the worst: the stick is now a molten mess, and butter drips down the microwave door.

"Oh honey," Dot sighs, grabbing a towel to wipe up the mess. "Just grab another stick and leave it on the counter for a bit to soften."

“Jesus. Come on. Get your head in the game!” Gator admonishes himself, trying to shake off his embarrassment and the feeling of shame welling up inside of him from fucking up something so simple. “I have cooked before. I’m just -”

What? Nervous? Fucking stupid? What else is there to say when he can’t even melt butter.

Dot lays a hand on his back. She doesn’t need to say anything, and she doesn’t as she hands him a clean bowl and Scotty reads out from Dot’s phone that it’s time to sift the dry ingredients together. He upends the bag of flour over the sifter, and thinks it might be too much. It definitely is, because he doesn’t get more than a few taps in before flour has started to overflow everywhere, dusting his hands and the arms of his black t-shirt. But hey, some of it is getting into the bowl.

Somehow with Dot's patient guidance and Scotty's enthusiastic "assistance", they manage to get the cake batter mixed and poured into pans. Gator slides them into the oven, sets the timer, and leans back against the counter with a sigh, his shirt and jeans thoroughly dusted with flour, bits of batter streaked in between.

Dot chuckles as she hands him a damp towel. "Well, that was an adventure. I think Billy will appreciate the effort you put in, even if it's not perfect."

Gator wipes his hands and grumbles. "It better turn out decent after all that. I still think I shoulda gotten him something else though. Something big, to really wow him, y'know?"

Dot studies him for a long moment, and then finally broaches the subject that has been festering like a smelly turd in the corner of the room.

"Want to talk about what happened at the store today?"

No. No he really fucking doesn’t. Gator turns to snap on the faucet, thinking that he’d like to stick his head under it and drown himself right about now. He focuses intently on scrubbing the batter caked on his nails instead.

"Nothin' happened. She was a stuck-up bitch is all. Lookin' down on me like I'm nothin' just 'cause I ain't some fancy dom in a suit."

He hears Dot murmur something quietly to Scotty about going to get her things together, and grunts in acknowledgment when the twerp says a shy goodbye before slipping from the room. He immediately feels like shit, because Dot can’t really punish him anymore - it’s not her place, and she’s got too much respect for Billy to overstep - but she can take away the one thing she knows he really wants. He wasn’t ready for them to leave, but he can’t blame Dot for not wanting her kid around him when he’s like this.

Her family is not something that Dot plays around with, and Gator might be someone she cares about, but there’s a stark line between whatever the hell they are to each other and the beautiful thing Nadine - fuck - Dot, built for herself with her own grit and guts in the aftermath of the Tillmans.

He understands. He gets it. He does. And yet he still flinches when she speaks again, body somehow unprepared for her to still be there even though he would have heard her leave if she wasn’t.

"She shouldn't have treated you that way," Dot says softly. "But Gator, how you reacted wasn’t like you. I haven’t seen you do something that rash in a long time. What’s this really about?”

Gator's jaw clenches and his hands still, suds dripping from his fingers into the sink. The air grows heavy with all the things unsaid between them.

"It’s nothin'. Alright?" he mutters unconvincingly. "I lost my cool is all. Won't happen again."

Dot sighs and leans her hip against the counter next to him, arms crossed. Her eyes are filled with gentle understanding and he hates it. Hates how much it reminds him of his mom, and all the times after, when she was gone and it was Dot standing in her place, filling the void as best she could. Hates most of all that he’s never been strong enough to resist the comfort Dot offers and the temptation to fall apart in her arms. She was his safety, even when safety was a lie and she was just a kid who couldn’t do shit to keep herself safe, let alone him.

But no matter how hard Gator had tried, he’d never stopped needing someone to lean on and take him apart and clean out his rust and dust, to put back together again good as new. That’s his curse, the sub in him, which is hard to swallow most days but Billy makes it better. No one does any of that for him like Billy Hargrove does. Even when Gator makes it hard on him, Billy always knows just which way he’s bent and how to fix it. Yeah it bugs the shit out of him, but he wouldn’t know what the hell to do with himself now without it. If Billy left he’d -

Stop that shit! He flinches away from the thoughts, and reminds himself for the umpteenth time that Billy isn’t going to leave him over some dumb shit like a lame birthday gift. He needs to just quit already. Why can’t he make the thoughts stop?

"You've been doing so well lately, Gator. Really making progress in therapy, communicating better when you’re dropping... What happened today?" Dot presses again.

Gator's throat works as he swallows hard. His hands clench the edge of the sink, knuckles going white. He doesn’t want to talk about this but maybe it will help. God he hopes it helps.

"I just... I wanted to get him somethin' special, y'know? Somethin' to show him how much he means to me." His voice cracks slightly on the last word and Dot's face softens. She reaches for him, laying a hand on his shoulder. 

"Oh honey... Billy knows how much you love him. You don't need fancy gifts to prove that."

"Don't I though?" Gator argues, a bitter edge creeping into his tone. "He does so much for me, Dot. Takes such good care of me, even when I'm a pain in the ass. And, like when am I not a pain in the ass, huh? You were gonna kick his ass and like send him to the Gulag. How am I worth that?”

Dot laughs, giving Gator's shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Listen to me. You are a pain in the ass, but only when you’re trying so hard not to be the sweet, kind, and wonderful man I know you are. You're a good boy, Gator. You always have been. And yes, at first I was worried when I found out your Saftey-Dom had a thing for you. Who wouldn’t be?”

Gator shrugs away her very good point - doms who are employed to counsel and provide subs with therapeutic care are bound by a strict code of ethics. Billy could have been in deep shit if anyone other than Dot had found out about their relationship before Billy stopped being his therapy dom.

“I kissed him Dot, and he never let it happen again while I was still just a case.” Gator laments. “That’s what I’m talking about though, all I could do was think with my dick - meanwhile I could have seriously fucked up his life. And he still took care of me!”

“He did. Which is what convinced me he’s the best thing for you.” Dot says. “It’s because he loves you for who you are, flaws and all."

Gator shakes his head, jaw tight. "You don't get it, Dot. I'm not...I'm not good like you keep saying. The shit that goes through my head sometimes…”

He trails off, shame burning hot in his gut. He can't even bring himself to say it out loud. But with Dot he doesn’t need to. 

She was there through the worst of it. She’s seen the worst of him. Shit Billy knows about, but hasn’t seen. Hasn’t really lived it, the way Dot had to live it, and maybe that’s why Gator’s been fucking everything up. 

Maybe he’s trying to see once and for all whether or not someone who isn’t trauma bonded to him will stay once they see him for what he really is.

"I know I'm fucked up, alright? I know I got a long way to go before I'm anything close to the kinda sub Billy deserves.” He tries to shrug off the admission like the words aren’t sending pain twisting inside him like a knife.

But Dot, perceptive as always, cups Gator's face, turning him back to meet her gentle gaze. "Oh honey... Is that what this is about? You want Billy to collar you?"

Gator's breath hitches. Hearing it stated so plainly sends a jolt through him, equal parts longing and terror. He jerks away from Dot's touch, arms wrapping defensively around himself.

"No! I mean... Fuck, I don't know," he stammers, the words tangling on his tongue.

Dot is quiet for a long moment, letting his confession settle heavily between them. When she speaks again, her tone is thoughtful.

"Have you talked to Billy about this? About wanting his collar?"

Gator barks out a harsh laugh. "No. No fuckin' way. He'd probably laugh in my face if I did.”

Dot's brow furrows, her eyes shadowed with concern as she clicks her tongue in admonishment. "I don’t believe you really think that for a second. That Billy would laugh at you for expressing your needs."

Gator's shoulders hunch, defensive. He keeps his gaze fixed resolutely on the mixing bowl in the sink, watching the dregs of batter slowly dissolve under the running tap. The sweet scent of vanilla and butter hangs heavy in the air, incongruously cheerful.

"I didn't say I needed it," he mutters. "I'm just sayin'... a guy like me askin' for a collar. It's funny right? Like, I’m not some needy bitch who needs a collar to keep from dropping, and I don’t need Billy thinking he gets to boss me around more than he already does. Guy’s an absolute control freak."

"Uh-huh and you love it. I've seen the two of you together. The way Billy is with you... It's special. He'd move heaven and earth to make you happy. To give you what you need." Dot says. Her voice is soft but sure.

Gator swallows thickly, his eyes stinging. He blinks rapidly, determined not to let the tears building behind his lids fall. "Sure. Why hasn’t he done it then? I’d put that shit down in two seconds, but he hasn’t even tried. Y’know?"

And the reason why is obvious. Yeah, there’s the fact that Gator doesn’t need a collar, but even if he wanted one he’s too much work, too damaged.

Dot sighs heavily, like he said the last part out loud.

"Honestly Honey, I think you should think about it from his perspective. With the way you talk about it... He may not realize how much this would mean to you. Billy does a good job, making sense of what’s going on in that squirrel head of yours but he’s not superman. Talk to him.”

Gator grunts noncommittally. Because hell no. He will not be begging his dom to collar him any time soon thanks, but he doesn’t want her to worry either. 

Dot says she has to get Scotty home in time to start dinner and he follows her out to the front door where Scotty is waiting with Dot's purse and her school bag. He sees them off with a wave and a promise to attend some talent show at Scotty’s school next week. Dot gives him a kiss on the cheek, urges him to talk to Billy one more time and reminds him that her mother-in-law knows the president, and really can get Billy thrown in the gulag if he really does laugh in Gator’s face.

And then he’s alone. Alone with his thoughts. Which is frankly the best way to be. Gator can think much more clearly about this now that Dot’s not here, reminding him of the past and making him feel weaker than he actually is. He can totally still salvage this situation. He’ll just make the cake really impressive. Like those 3D ones that look like real shit? Billy loves to chill with him on the weekend and watch that show where people try and guess which random item is cake or not. Gator’s usually tied up, plugged or gagged when that happens so his memories are a little hazy - but it doesn’t look that hard. It’s just cake right?

When the timer goes off Gator brings the cake out of the oven.

He whips out his phone and starts scrolling through cake decorating videos on YouTube, determined to find something suitably impressive. His eyes light up when he spots a tutorial for a realistic 3D surfboard cake, uploaded by some fruit calling himself Barry Bakes. He doesn’t really want to take advice from some dude with pink hair, a full face of makeup, wearing a sparkly crop top with the word TWINK encrusted on the front, but the cake is undeniably badass.

"Alright, let's do this," Gator mutters, cracking his knuckles. He fast forwards through the beginning of the video, impatient to get to the good stuff.

First step - carving the cakes into a surfboard shape. Easy enough. Gator grabs a serrated knife and starts hacking away at the layers, tongue poking out the corner of his mouth in concentration. Crumbs fly everywhere as he saws off uneven chunks. When he's done, he steps back to survey his work. It...sort of looks like a surfboard. If you squint. And tilt your head to the side.

Next up - the "ocean" frosting. Gator mixes a batch of blue buttercream, dumping in what is probably way too much food coloring, but whatever at least he softened the butter without blowing up the microwave this time.

Gator continues to follow along with Barry Bakes' tutorial, growing increasingly frustrated as each step seems to go awry. The blue buttercream frosting he mixed up is a garish turquoise color from the excessive food dye. It's also too thin and runny, dripping off the cake in gloopy rivulets.

He blames Barry, that fucking fruit, because if he weren’t so hell bent on turning everything into some kinda innuendo maybe Gator could actually concentrate on what he is doing!

"Shit shit shit," Gator grumbles under his breath, frantically trying to smooth the messy frosting over the lopsided surfboard shape he carved. It's a losing battle. The cake looks like a melted smurf.

Next, Barry cheerfully pipes delicate white frosting swirls and curls to create realistic seafoam on his perfectly smooth blue surfboard. Reminding the audience that big tips are better for piping, and everybody loves a good pipe.

Gator glares at the screen. His own piping bag is loaded with frosting that's somehow both too stiff and too drippy at the same time. When he tries to pipe, it comes out in sad, deflated spurts. He can only imagine what Barry would have to say about that.

"Motherf-!" Gator bites off the curse, chucking the piping bag down on the counter. This was a stupid idea. He's no baker, who was he kidding? He should've just bought Billy a damn gift card like a normal person.

Dejected, Gator slumps against the counter, hanging his head. Failure churns in his gut, sharp and nauseating. He can't give this monstrosity to Billy. He just can’t. Can’t bear to watch him try to hide his disappointment.

Frustrated and embarrassed, Gator gives up on trying to salvage the cake. In a fit of pique, he grabs a spatula and starts roughly shaping the blue frosted mess, not even bothering to smooth it out anymore. He carves angry slashes and gouges into the cake's surface with the edge of the spatula.

Before he even fully realizes what he's doing, the cake has taken on a new, crude shape under his hands - a lumpy, misshapen hand with the middle finger extended in an unmistakable gesture of "fuck you".

Gator steps back, breathing hard, and stares at his handiwork. The hand is far from anatomically correct, with uneven sausage-like fingers and a palm that curves at an odd angle. Globs of sticky frosting cling to the digits in gloopy turquoise clumps. The raised middle finger lists slightly to the side, like it's too heavy to hold itself up properly.

It's possibly the ugliest cake Gator has ever seen. So ugly it crosses the line twice and becomes perversely impressive in its sheer awfulness. A surprised, slightly unhinged laugh bubbles up from his chest as he takes it in.

This is what he has to show for his efforts. This fuck-ugly, lewd gesture of a cake, cobbled together from the dregs of his failure. It suits him.

“Yeah don’t know what the fuck else I expected.” Gator grumbles, despondent. He goes to the fridge to fetch a beer and tabs it open roughly, determined to drink thoughts of the stupid cake away. 

He’s not crying over cake like some lame ass. It’s whatever. It’ll probably still taste good, and if Billy doesn’t like it he can throw it in the trash. They’ll order a pizza or something and Gator will ride him till his dick goes numb and call it a night. Happy birthday.

Gator stomps to the bedroom he and Billy share and pulls out the trunk where he keeps his hunting gear from under the bed, because it’s been awhile since he polished his knives and that always helps lift his mood. He takes the trunk out to the living room and gets to work. Ques up his workout playlist on his phone and connects it to the TV so he can put it on blast.

It helps a little. Allows him time not to think. But the time gets away from him, because he doesn’t even hear the sound of the front door opening and closing. 

Billy's entrance is marked by the faint scrape of his boots against the hardwood floor as he turns the corner into the living room. He pauses briefly, taking in the scene before him—Gator, surrounded by an array of gleaming knives, his trunk spilling open on the coffee table, and the ear splitting rifts of heavy metal blaring from the television speakers.

A faint smile tugs at Billy's lips as the dom sets down his bag and sheds his leather jacket, revealing the broad contours of his chest hugged by a tight white T-shirt. The room is thick with the scent of metal and leather, a comforting familiarity that wraps around Billy like a second skin. He approaches Gator slowly, noiselessly, his gaze fixed not on the array of blades but on the man holding them as gently as baby chicks.

Billy casts a long shadow across the coach and Gator finally notices him. He jumps up, fumbling the knife in his hands which clatters to the floor. The music crescendos, a dramatic backdrop to the moment. Gator lowers the volume, and whips around to glare at Billy who laughs at the fright he gave him.

“Hey, Baby Gay.”

“Don’t call me that!” Gator snaps. “And don’t sneak up on me. I was like, this close to killing you!”

“Oh?” Billy arches a mocking brow. “Probably shouldn’t have dropped the knife then.”

“Haha. Very funny asshole. You’re lucky I did,” Gator grumbles in reply, bending down to pick up the fallen knife. “You know how sharp one of these babies are? With one o’ these I can cut through the shell on a coconut just like that.”

He flicks his wrist to demonstrate the ease with which he could peel Billy’s flesh off, and Billy gives him this look - like Gator is just fucking adorable - and it’s god damn condescending, is what it is. But it also makes the back of Gator’s neck tingle with awareness, and his dick try to get hard. So yeah.

It’s probably a good thing that Billy’s so distracted anyway. Because swearing at his dom is firmly against their rules on account of the fact that Gator uses it as some kinda defense mechanism to keep Billy at arms length.

Or that’s what Billy said anyway when he made the stupid rule. Gator doesn’t make the rules here, he just follows them.

“I’ll count myself lucky then. I think I’ll get a beer. You want one killer?” Billy asks, already on his way to the kitchen. 

FUCK! The Kitchen. Gator remembers too late that he forgot to clean up and do something with that awful cake and scampers after him.

Billy strides into the kitchen before Gator can stop him.

His stomach knots as Billy pauses, his gaze landing on the misshapen dessert surrounded by strewn icing bags, crumbs and powdered sugar. Slowly a grin spreads across Billy's face, and blue eyes sparkle as he turns to look at Gator, where he lingers hesitantly in the kitchen doorway.

"Is this cake trying to tell me something?" he teases, amusement rich in his voice. He leans forward slightly to inspect the cake more closely. "Is this your way of telling me you don’t want to sixty-nine later, or is it a failed science experiment? Hard to tell."

Gator feels heat rush to his face, embarrassment mixed with irritation bubbling in his chest. He knows Billy is just poking fun, yet it stings, tapping into that deep-seated insecurity instilled by years under his father's critical eye.

"Scotty was here with Dot and it gave us something to do. That’s all," Gator mumbles defensively, his words sharper than intended. Then, unable to stop the words from tumbling out recklessly, he adds, "Just thought it would be nice to share, but you don’t have to have any if you’re just going to be an asshole."

As soon as the words are out, Gator regrets them. Swearing at Billy is one thing, but lying to him breaks one of their most cardinal rules. It’s not just about respect; it’s about trust.

Billy’s expression shifts subtly; the playful light in his eyes dims as he adopts a more serious demeanor. He closes the distance between them with measured steps. "Gator," he says softly yet firmly, "That’s the second time you’ve pulled that tonight. Watch it.”

Gator snaps his mouth shut and fumes silently, hanging his head. God, Billy sounds so disappointed in him and it’s worse than he even imagined.He wants to puke.

“Did Scotty really make this?” Billy asks, and Gator can tell just from his tone that Billy already knows the answer, but he’s waiting for Gator to fess up to it. Gator shakes his head, hot tears stinging at his eyes that he blinks away as rapidly as he can.

“It’s for you.” He confesses, feeling a weight lift off his chest despite his overall misery. “I made it for your birthday, and you made fun of it.”

“I did.” Billy acknowledges too easily for Gators liking, but before he can say anything Billy goes on. “I could have handled that better. You’re right. But before we get to that, don’t you have anything to say to me?”

“No. Can’t think of anything.” Gator immediately denies, because how is it fair that he has to apologize for a little white lie when he only did it in the first place because he knew Billy was going to laugh. He knew it.

“Oh?” Billy’s face is impassive but he’s unhappy with Gators answer. It crackles in the air between them. “Do you need a reminder of the rules?"

Gator swallows hard, defiance battling with remorse inside him. He shrugs stiffly, avoiding Billy’s gaze. “Let's just forget it. I don’t need a lecture right now.”

“I’ll decide whether you do or not.” Billy’s tone is calm but carries an undeniable edge of authority—one that sends shivers down Gator’s spine and fear bolting through him all at once. “You know, I was looking forward to a nice night with my boy. Didn’t know I was coming home to a brat.”

Gator ignores the voice inside that screams for him to stop stop stop, barreling ahead in desperate angry defiance.

“Fuck you and what you want! Maybe I want a boyfriend who knows how to lighten up huh?  Sorry I’m not your perfect little bitch. Go cry about it to someone else!” 

His insides shake from the fear and lingering tension. Gator has just royally pissed off his dom. It’s in Billy’s eyes and the slow exhale of breath he takes. Punishment is inevitable. Gator longs to take it back but he can’t - can never take it back - and nothing will fix it. Or fix him. He’s all wrong inside and nothing works no matter how hard he tries.

But the thing is, Billy is safe.

Billy is angry and Gator is terrified and trembling but It’s nothing like it was before, in his father’s house. When the fear of a hand went bone deep and lived in his nightmares.

Gator loves Billy’s hands. They way they touch him. The way they hold him fast and glue him back together. They’ve never let him down those hands, which is why Gator is shaking like a leaf right now, terrified that they won’t reach for him.

He didn’t yell those things at Billy because he wants more space. It’s stupid, he knows, but he yelled them because he needs Billy to take over. He can’t stop himself running full speed ahead toward a punishment. Billy will straighten him out. He can trust Billy to know what to do even when he’s lost sense of which way he’s turned.

Gator’s dom considers him for a long moment, the silence stretching taut between them.

“Go in our room and get me a paddle.” Billy finally orders. Then, deliberately turning away, he starts rummaging through the kitchen cupboards - no doubt in his mind apparently that Gator will obey him.

Of course he does. Knees shaking, Gator stumbles out of the kitchen because now that he’s driven them to this point his skin is crawling with the need to make it right. He’s aching with the need to be good so bad his knees feel like jelly and it’s everything he can do just to follow the order. He wants to hit the floor - go to his belly and plead for his dom’s forgiveness but that’s not what Billy asked for.

He will be good. He’ll make Billy forget that mouthy idiot who talked back and clearly had shit for brains. He can be such a good boy. The best boy! Just give him a chance and he’ll come wagging his fucking tail.

It’s pathetic.

But it’s also a relief, when he returns to the kitchen a few minutes later with a paddle from their toy chest and sets it on the table and Billy acknowledges it with an approving nod.

“Good boy.” he says, and Gator’s knees buckle. He catches himself on the table, holds himself up with palms pressed firmly to the wood because Billy hasn’t told him to kneel yet. He forces himself to focus on Billy as the dom takes an empty glass vase inexplicably sitting next to a bag of rice on the table, and places it on the floor between their feet.

Gator watches warily as next, Billy grabs the open bag of rice and tilts it sending a stream of white grains cascading down onto the tile. He stops when the bag is empty and kneels briefly to stir through them gently with his fingers before straightening and meeting Gator’s eyes again.

“Pants off.” he orders, and Gator sucks in a breath. He doesn’t have to ask why, and doesn’t bother, cheeks hot with shame as he reaches for his belt and gets to work.

"On the floor," BIlly commands softly, when Gator is down to his underwear. The dom points to the pile of rice on the floor.

"Kneel."

And Gator folds like fucking cake batter, sweet sweet relief coursing through his veins. He puts himself at Billy’s feet where he belongs, where he wants to be and shudders, biting his lip to stop himself from begging for the dom’s touch. He hasn’t earned that. Doesn’t make him want it less, but he can be good for Billy and prove when he remembers how.

Billy picks up the paddle that Gator chose – sleek and dark, crafted from polished walnut. As Gator settles on his haunches, head lowered in submission.

“You picked the heavy one. My favorite.” Billy remarks. “That why you picked it, or do you just really need to feel it tonight? You can answer.”

“Want to feel it.” Gator licks his lips. “Want you to be happy.”

“Good boy.” Billy says, leaving Gator to wonder which he is pleased with: that Gator wants his ass beat so raw he can’t sit or Gator wanting those things because they please his dom?

“Alright Baby, are you listening? I want you to pick those up and put them in the vase. Count each one,” Billy instructs, motioning toward the scatter of grains. His voice is firm. It brooks no argument.

Gator looks down at the nearly indistinguishable mass of tiny grains and feels a rush of frustration. "All of them?" His voice is a mix of incredulity and unease. What if he can’t do it? What if he can’t be good and Billy is disappointed in him again?

“Every last one Baby boy," Billy confirms with an implacable nod. “Don’t think about it. It’s not your job right now to think. Just do what I ask you to do. Can you do that?”

Gator takes a deep breath, steadies himself on the sound of Billy’s voice and nods. He can do that. He can follow Billy’s instructions. He doesn’t have to worry about ho much rice there is or whether he can even find it all. That’s not his to worry about. Not his place. He just has to listen. 

He reaches out shakily to touch the closest grain, his voice barely audible as he starts, “One… two… three…” His fingers tremble slightly; counting each grain feels like an impossible task. But Billy never sets him up for failure - not the way his dad used to. Billy doesn’t ask him to do things he’s not capable of just to fail. He asks Gator for things he knows he can do, and if he fails anyway it’s because Billy wants to be there when he breaks. He won’t leave Gator laden with shame and misery that will eat away at his insides.

As Gator focuses on the rice, Billy steps behind him. Without warning, he brings the paddle down gently but firmly across Gator's backside. The sound cracks sharply in the air, followed by another count from Gator's lips that judders from the impact.

“Four… five…”

Billy administers each swat in time with Gator’s counting—methodical and paced.

The pain is not harsh but it accumulates with each slap—the stinging warmth spreading across Gator’s skin contrasting starkly with the coolness of the floor beneath his knees and hands. Tears prickle at Gator’s eyes as he continues—his voice breaks around “twenty-nine… thirty…” 

It’s more than just physical pain; it's a release valve for all he’s been holding inside. Every impact sends ripples through him, but it’s not just his body. It does something to his soul too that he can’t explain. Something he no longer wants to deny.

“Let it out,” Billy murmurs close to his ear between paddles—a soothing contrast to the sharp swats.

“Thirty-one… thirty-two…” The numbers start blurring together as sobs hitch in his throat. The task which seemed merely frustrating at first now feels poignant— slowly, bit by bit, Gator cleans up the mess on the floor, and swat by swat Billy cleans up the mess inside. He doesn’t hit Gator after every grain, that would be excessive. He takes breaks at interment periods, spacing them out so that it’s impossible for Gator to try and guess when he might start up again. The fresh sting whenever he does is brutal, worse in some ways than if he had just continued until Gator’s cheeks were numb.

“Two-hundred and ten…” 

Billy pauses, placing his hand gently on Gator's shoulder as he surveys his progress.

"You’re doing well," he encourages softly, and that little praise, that nothing bit of touch, is enough to break him. Gator chokes on a sob, hot tears spilling down his cheeks despite his best efforts to hold them in.

“Keep going.” Billy reminds him and Gator nods emphatically, tears dripping off his chin, because he hadn’t meant to stop. He was doing so well. Billy said so. He’ll never stop. Not until Billy tells him too.

With shaking hands Gator pinches grains of rice between his fingers and continues to count aloud between sobs and hits from the paddle—each number spoken is more than just an acknowledgement of rice grains; but of his submission to Billy. 

Billy’s little murmurs of praise and sounds of pleasure make him feel high. Like his head is floating in the clouds.

He loves subspace. Wishes it were easier for him to reach and he didn’t have to be taken down so hard. But finally he feels the familiar edges of it and the tears fall faster as he lets himself go.

Gator sinks into the feeling of weightlessness as it rises up to take him. Billy maintains a rhythm that is both firm and considerate, attuned to Gator's responses—his body language, his breathing, his blown out pupils and slurred speech. 

This is no longer about punishment. It’s a guided breakdown.

As Gator’s cries begin to subside into quiet murmurs and his ability to speak leaves him, Billy lessens the intensity of his strikes until he stops altogether. 

“That’s enough. You were beautiful Baby.” Billy halts Gator’s hands woozly still trying to lift rice and the sub sags against him. “You’re always so good for me baby boy.”

He brushes his fingertips along Gator's heated skin, tracing the raised welts along his buttocks and thighs softly, and making him shiver. Gator’s mouth stretches in a dopey lopsided smile, beaming from inside and out. He soars. Works his mouth to ask Billy to do it again - he can take more - but can’t get past the mushmouth.

The room is heavy with the scent of sweat and leather, the only sound now the quiet thud of Billy’s heart and Gator’s shaky breaths.

Hands roam over Gator’s back and legs, soft, soothing caresses that glide over his flushed skin. Billy leans close, his breath warm against the nape of Gator’s neck, whispering reassurances that float through his head like feathers.

The shift is gentle, a tender transition as Gator's breathing evens out and his trembling subsides. Billy’s hands are confident, knowing exactly where to touch to bring Gator back from the intense high of subspace. With each calculated stroke on his back and whisper against his ear, Gator feels the ground slowly come back under him, the weightlessness dissipating as reality takes hold once more.

Billy finally eases back, giving space for Gator to gather himself in the afterglow of their session. He cups Gator’s face tenderly, wiping away the trails left by tears with his thumbs. 

“Talk to me, Gator. What’s been eating at you?”

The use of his real name pulls Gator further out of his dazed state. He blinks slowly, focusing on Billy’s concerned face, grounding himself. “I... I’m scared,” he admits, voice still hoarse.

“Scared of what?” Billy probes gently, petting the long side of Gator’s hair now.

“I’m scared I’m not enough for you,” he confesses, dropping his gaze to where their fingers are entwined. He knows the words will hurt Billy. Make his dominant frown in the middle of his brow and start thinking of all the ways Neil Hargrove used to tell him he was a waste of space - too broken and wrong to ever take proper care of a sub. Nothing could be further from the truth. But if there’s one thing Gator knows it’s daddy issues and how they can haunt you.

But to his surprise Billy’s expression doesn’t change. He just nods quietly, still petting Gator’s hair. “Why would you think that?”

Gator hesitates, lips parting but no sound coming out. He swallows hard and shrugs.

“Listen to me Baby.” Billy says after a moment, fisting Gator’s hair between his fingers and tugging until he brings his eyes up. “You’re what I want. You. Even when you’re being a greasy dirtbag leaving your shit everywhere and blaring your candyass music.”

“Hey, lay off my Skyfire man.” Gator can’t help but smile, because Billy’s lips have curved up in amusement and they’ve had this argument a dozen times or more and it just makes him feel so good, that Billy pays attention to which albums he gravitates to depending on his moods. “They aren’t candy. Fractal is the best album produced since Reign In Blood.”

“Why are we talking about fucking Slayer, or Skyfire, right now when Ride the Lightning exists?” Billy growls, tugging on Gator’s hair until his scalp stings just the sweetest bit. “I should beat your ass again just for that.“

“Yeah. If you wanna.” he pants, eager, and Billy’s smiling mouth kisses him, hot and hungry. Billy licks into Gator’s mouth, possessive and sweeping, until he whimpers. The dom nips at his plump lower lip with a grin before pulling back.

“Don’t think you realize how sore you’re gonna be when you come down off this high babe.” He says. “But you heard me right? When I said I loved you? Cause I do. I wasn’t about to lose you before over shitty timing, and I’d never let anything take you from me now. Not Dot. Not him. Not anyone or anything. Okay?”

Gator shivers, but even the mention of his father can’t intrude on the blanket of safety Billy has woven around him, the sure way his gaze holds Gator and rings with truth.

“Yeah.” he sighs, breathless.

“Yeah?”

But it’s not good enough, according to Billy’s tightening grip. And fuck that feels good. Gator is suddenly aware of how hard he is in his briefs, but it’s strangely distant. Like he’d be happy to just sit here hard for another hour or more, letting Billy play with him.

“Yes Billy.”

“Good boy.” Billy's voice is soft, infused with a warmth that seeps into Gator's bones, coaxing his tight muscles to loosen.The room around them—their living room with its deep blue walls and plush gray couches— disappears momentarily, focusing all existence on their intimate bubble.

Billy lifts Gator’s chin so their eyes meet. "Nah nah, stay up for me Baby boy. I need you present." His thumbs brush under Gator’s eyes, rubbing warmth into his skin while he waits for Gator’s eyes to focus. "I think it’s time I show you something," Billy continues, when Gator’s gaze is clear once more.

"In the bedroom," Billy instructs softly, "In my sock drawer, there's a small white box. I want you to go and bring it to me."

Gator feels a jolt run through him. It shocks him rather unpleasantly back to reality, like he’s been dropped from a short height.

“Wait what?” he tries to ask, tries to think, because Billy can’t be hinting at what his muddled brain is trying to convince him he is. Can he?

“Shh. Don’t ask questions.” Billy warns. “And absolutely no peeking either. Just go get it.”

Gator’s movements are slow and automatic as he stands and makes his way down the hallway. This isn’t happening. Well obviously it is, he is on his way to their bedroom to open Billy’s drawer - which is strictly hands off unless he has permission - and get some mysterious box. But it’s probably like some new toy they can enjoy together. Maybe Billy went out and finally got those chains Gator found on that web store, the ones with the studs that dig into your wrists the more you struggle? He’s going to feel so owned wearing those. It’s gonna be great.

He’s convinced himself down off the ledge by the time he gets to the bedroom, but his heart hasn’t gotten the memo because it starts going double time in his chest as he reaches for Billy’s drawer. It slips open smoothly under his fingers which are trembling slightly. From fear or excitement, he isn't sure.

Inside lies a small white box, unassuming in its simplicity yet Gator just stands there and stares at it like it’s a bomb for a full minute before lifting it from its nest among Billy's socks. The weight of potential futures presses down upon him as he clutches the box in his hands.

He should be a good boy. He can just turn and go back into the living room and - Fuck it! Gator’s not kidding anyone. Least of all himself.

Before he knows it, Gator has torn off the ribbon and lifted the lid on the box to peek inside.

And there lies a beautiful black leather collar, its surface smooth and flawless except for the bold engraving of 'GATOR' studded across it in shining silver letters.

Gator stares at it in disbelief, eyes flooding with fresh tears. His heart trips over itself in his chest, thrumming against his ribcage like a caged bird desperate for flight.

The room is silent except for the sound of Gator's shallow, ragged breathing. Gator runs his fingers over the cool, shining letters that form his name, the studs scraping against the pads of his fingers sending tingles through him.

He lifts the collar, feeling its weight in his hands. It's heavier than it looks. He brings it closer, inhaling deeply—the leather smells rich and earthy. It’s the good shit. Supple and strong enough to take some serious pull, and yet the inside of the collar is lined with soft velvet, ensuring his comfort.

Something white resting on the blue lining of the box catches Gator’s eye. It’s a folded card, its crisp edge nearly taller than the sides of the box. Gently plucking it up, Gator flicks it open and scans, eyes widening at the one word message inside.

Peeker!

An unexpected burst of laughter escapes him as he wipes away tears. The simple word on the card speaks volumes, but so does Billy’s presence in their bedroom doorway where Gator finds him leaning when he looks up.

Billy is gazing at Gator with an intense mixture of emotions.

"Do you like it?" he asks, and there’s something like worry there. As if Gator might actually have shit for brains and do all that stupid stuff he’d told Dot he’d do back when he was scared shitless. All because he’d convinced himself that Billy wasn’t true - that he’d disappear like every other good thing has.

“Yeah.” Gator sniffs through his red nose, rubbing fiercely at his eyes. “Shit man. How long have you had this?”

“Since right after your birthday actually.” Billy confesses with an easy shrug. Like he isn’t just standing there admitting that he bought a collar for Gator and has been hanging onto it since September.

“Billy! It’s fucking March!”

“I know! I thought if I forbid you from going through my drawer eventually you would. I know what you’re like.” Billy said. Meaning of course he knows that no matter what, Gator eventually messes up.

But Billy says, “I guess I underestimated what a good boy I’ve got, huh?” with this soft look in his eye, like he’s looking at the best sight in the world and not his fuckup boyfriend standing in the middle of their bedroom in his tighty-whities.

Gator might be melting a little, which is why he has to sit down heavily on the bed before he crumples.

“Hey Billy?”

“Yeah, Babe?”

“I’m your sub…” Gator begins and Billy laughs, the sound loud and full of joy instead of mockery.

“No shit?”

“Come on, Billy please. Don’t be mean.” Gator whines, lifting the hand still holding the collar wordlessly and Billy finally takes pity on him and crosses the room to take it from him. Gator trembles, straightening up and bending his neck a little to give Billy room as he claps it on. He gasps a little, shuddering when Billy leans back and the heavy weight settles against his skin.

"You’re my sub," Billy repeats with finality."With or without this. But when you wear this, I want you to remember," he pauses for effect, letting his fingers softly caress down Gator’s neck and over the dark leather. "You’re my gift. The love you give me, makes me Gator, and I thank whatever lucky stars I’ve got that you came into my life when you did. Okay?"

A simple nod is all Gator manages in response; it’s all that’s needed. The smile that spreads across Billy's face is radiant—as if a piece has clicked into place within him too.

Carefully, lovingly, Billy cradles his chin and pulls him into a kiss.

It tastes sweet… like buttercream icing.

[sellbotvp]

i feel like people get too caught up in holly being a large knight woman and forget that she’s literally called gatekeeper.

i know. it’s hard not to. and it does make her look VERY cool. but realistically? she is a chronically online nerd that gets into arguments with other cogs over dumb stupid shit that does not matter. she thinks she’s better than brian because she uses 4can (cog 4chan) instead of creddit.

[cr33p-a-z01d]

Yap the headcannons at me, please. I want to read

omg YAYYYY alright anyways

headcanons under the cut :33

Alex

ok so I feel like he is SOOO EMO like all he's plays in the car is fall out boy and everyone is SICK of it

this man is egotistical its crazy

like thought his script was so good

really good with fixing cameras and shit

literally the way him and jay met was jays camera was broke and alex offered to fix it

I feel like they all have a but of internalized homophobia but him and tim have it the worst imo

brian came out to him and he was like "don't try and flirt with me bro 🤨" and brian was like "I was not planning on it?"

bro is so bisexual its crazy

one of the main reasons he hired tim and brian was cause he thought they were cute

Brian

this one is probably gonna be one of the longest cause I have so many thoughts about him :,)

ocd (< I'm projecting)

because of said ocd this man can't drive

but when he does he drives like a fucking maniac

I feel like he just listens to whatever ppl have on in the car

so whenever you ask him to play music it's like a mix of jimmy eat world, country, and like. pop music

asks ppl out as a joke alllllll the time

cause of the yk. falling out of a window thing, his back is all fucked up

like it healed but it never really healed

he can walk and stuff but sometimes when the pain gets bad he has to use a wheelchair

how does he survive you may be asking? 1. the power of homosexuality. 2. because I said so

I also think he's gay and asexual btw

I have more but I don't want this to he TOO long :,))

Tim

diagnosed with autism at a very young age

this man cannot do eye contact to save his life

this might be a hot take but I don't think he listens to music at all

it's either country music or nothing

mostly nothing

grew up catholic so he has a lot of internalized homophobia

he figures it out tho :)

honestly hated alexs movie

he thought it was cool at first but then they actually started filming and he realized how stupid it was

him and brian talked shit about it all the time

I feel like the song alligator skin boots by mccafferty fits him SO WELL

homeschooled until he was like a freshman

Jay

also autistic

the definition of the meme "stares at you with my autistic eyes"

ok I know it doesn't line up timeline wise but I feel like he would LOVE mccafferty and the front bottoms

like look me dead in my eyeballs and tell me his favorite song isn't bottom by mccafferty 🤨

a FREAK no I will not be elaborating

I don't have any more for Jay very sorry 😔

I dont have many jay thoughts

ok thats it :33 this was actually sm fun

these are just the mh guys but honestly I have a bunch more for the regular creepypastas too sooooo

[allwormdiet]

Buzz 7.7

Nazi capes fuck off, again

Okay, cool, the Protectorate needs to have one or more Triumvirate members mobilizing for Brockton Bay fucking immediately.

I'm certain that Alexandria or one of the others will be here any second now to deal with this televised brutality that's currently going uncontested in a Protectorate city

(The BB Protectorate doesn't get shown doing a whole lot during this particular incident, and frankly I don't think that means they're doing nothing. We see one front of the Empire's offensive and we know there are others who can cause just as much damage if left alone, plus the only Protectorate members who are maybe equipped to deal with Purity are Armsmaster and Dauntless, but given her flight and sheer destructive capability I'm not sure. I'm not so dismissive as to say they're letting this all slide, whatever they're doing is likely off-screen so to speak.

But the higher-ups should have sent in someone who could actually knock Purity's head concave, and frankly I trust them even less for not doing it with this or with Bakuda's threats.)

We get more of this later, but I think this is the first real sign of where Brian and Taylor's sensibilities diverge. Taylor's given up on being a superhero, but she still wants to be a good person, and that means that when fucking Nazis are running around burning down the city she wants to stop them, not least because they're being blamed for this rampage. Brian's priorities are different: his number one priority is his people, family or team or otherwise, and everyone else is a very distant second. As long as the Empire doesn't manage to come down on anyone he cares about, he's willing to let the city take whatever they dish out in the meantime.

This difference of opinion is going to come to a head in pretty short order, but we already see the friction before that.

Who the fuck decides whether the Triumvirate gets put on a job or not? If Alexandria or one of the others is hearing about this, can anyone actually stop them from holding back if they want to come out and put an end to this? If somebody can hold them back, that someone is at best wildly incompetent. If nobody can hold them back, I automatically hold those three in deep fucking contempt. Take a day trip and beat the shit out of some fucking Nazis, how is that such a burden?

Also, "genetically pure or not." What a fucking winner we have here, no wonder there are Purity stans who want to redeem her with the power of love or whatever.

So, this is an execution on live television. Of a cameraman, who was just the unlucky son of a bitch to get chosen for this demonstration. Are there genuinely people out there who believe the idea that the Empire is "civilized" compared to the other gangs? Some kind of lesser evil? Who reads this and goes "well actually I think that Kaiser and his followers are misunderstood and quite noble" go fuck yourself

Taylor gets fucking mean when she's not keeping a lid on it, huh?

Yeah of course the only thing she gives a shit about is her stupid baby. God I hope they figure out how to take custody from her or something, nobody deserves to be raised by a maniac like that.

Thank you Coil, that's very helpful of you Coil, this does nothing to tarnish your carefully constructed image of being in total control of the situation Coil.

Yeah, so. Proof that Purity is too strong for the local Protectorate to handle.

Also glad to see that Brian can be convinced of the right course of action once someone leans on him enough. There's only so much collateral damage he can stomach, it turns out. Hopefully that means he gets his head out of his ass about Dinah.

I don't think Taylor knows Brian well enough to have a real insight into his moral stances. A month into most of my friendships over my life I couldn't tell you how they'd respond to the trolley problem or whatever, except for the one girl who considered the trolley problem to be a stupid joke of a philosophical exercise and didn't really shy away from that.

I think she just kind of assumed that the two of them being alike in other ways, and seeing him in a particularly positive and flattering light, meant that he'd be on her side with whatever moral quandaries might come up as parahumans.

I'd say it's best she get over the shock now but she's not done being shocked by her peers this arc.

Sighs

These fuckers

Taylor having strong opinions on particular power sets is pretty funny.

Current Thoughts

Taylor you really gotta stop putting the people you like up on pedestals, it's just gonna lead to hurt and disappointment

Fucking hate Purity and the rest of her merry little band of Nazi fuckwits. I hope the Endbringer kills them to a one.

This upcoming fight is interesting tbh. I don't think it's the coolest or anything, but it's a display of how someone with a hard counter to your superpower doesn't mean an automatic loss, it just means a really fucking hard-fought win.

[ivoryisking]

brian thomas headcanons

Probably the hardest of the Operator’s proxies to sway

He really is a dickbag, until one gets to know him

Amazing at acting, but that’s probably from his film student days

Acting what? Emotions, obviously

Can pretend to like a person but hate their guts in reality

or vice versa

He’s not persuaded insert likes him, he thinks they’re trying to get in his good graces

For what purpose? He doesn’t know, but he doesn’t like it

He’s not stupid. Let’s leave it at that.

He’ll let others take the lead, but he’s the mastermind of the operation.

Behind the mask, he’s not actually a whole other person. He’s just letting out his darker side.

People don’t change, fucking stop, fanon. He is manipulative. 

He tried to manipulate insert many, many times when they met, and it only stopped as he got to know them. Sort of.

Still teases and plays mind games on insert, but he has no actual malicious intent on people he cares for.

His ways of showing he cares are rather erm, questionable. He might send videos to show he’s watching over them, but in the form of stalking.

(Did not say that makes it okay.) ^ 

He died. Straight up. Releasing him from the Operator’s power will have questionable effects, so he never tried. 

Would at one point try to teach insert to shoot, and his patience has endless bounds. That is to say, insert was so shitty at first, he might have given up if he wasn’t stubborn. 

He is… kind of handsy. Not in the perverted way, he simply enjoys making physical contact. 

He might be emotionally distant, but that’s usually what happens with *trauma*.

He’s the nicest to someone’s face, but doesn’t actually give a shit what they think of him. He’s being civil. 

When insert does finally convince him they’re not fooling around, he gets very confused and goes with the flow for a second, instead of controlling the situation. 

Insert gets messed with? Brian won’t say anything, but the person who did it sure will later. If they dare. 

He’s pretty no-nonsense. 

He’s observational, though not as much so as EJ. He does comment on little things one might not normally notice, though. 

That southern accent be hitting home, though

the drabble that comes with it can be found on any of the platforms i use; ao3, quotev, and wattpad- linktree in my bio if you find my works anywhere else, please let me know!

[lakesbian]

“Look, I know you’re on his team.  Process of elimination, you have to be the bug girl.” I shook my head, as much to deny it as in exasperation.  What the hell, Brian? “He told me that he had powers, didn’t say what they were.  Since he has powers, he thinks there’s a chance I could get ’em too.  Didn’t want me to be surprised.  I figured out who he was after that, saw something about some villains robbing a casino on a night he wasn’t at home, started keeping track of times he wasn’t available and it kept matching up.  Called him on it, and he didn’t do a very good job at denying it.”

i love that brian thought he was going to get away with. telling her he has powers. and then expecting her to believe that the corporate job is real and the apartment is legitimately gained and he's just genuinely making this much money age 17. aisha is the world's nicest girl for not constantly dragging him for how ridiculous it is that he robs casinos and banks and shit and then comes home like No You May Not See A Movie With Friends. also it's fucked up and evil that she knew who regent was before actually meeting him and has noooo idea. she doesn't even know. she saw him on the news and did not even know. she has nooo idea. she does not even know. shes not aware. do you think she thought his costume looked stupid

[crushedsweets]

WWHAT WUD THE CREEPS DO 4 HALLOWEEN I MUST KNOW

anon... yes i like this. general disclaimer this is tailored to my au !! stuff under cut

toby likes it, thinks its fun and stuff. he's not the type to dress up beyond like, maybe a jacket and a mask or whatever, but he'll go and buy(steal) stupid ass halloween decorations from spirit or the dollar store. there r several mini skeletons sitting around his cabin. he treats it like elf on the shelf, but. . . skeletons... def will sit around and watch scary movies with a bag of halloween candy . totally carves pumpkins with whoever will do it with him

tim wouldnt really want to do much cuz he's just tired, but he probably would put out a small little pumpkin and bowl of candy outside his door. he's in an apartment so he doesnt really get trick or treaters. will prob buy some candy after halloween so its on sale

brians so annoying omfg(lovingly) he'd buy a fake arm, blood, and wig and stick it in his trunk so it looks like an arm is sticking out. yall know what im talking about. him and tim share an apartment so he'd prob try to actually put something simple around it, like some plastic pumpkins, but nothing really big. he is also a grown man with no kids, so he doesnt find himself going all out for these things

natalie. ok i recently made it where she's either already a tattoo artist, or learning to be a tattoo artist or whatever, but i could see her and some coworkers setting up the shop all halloweeny. she's so fucking tall that they'd just call her over for all the spider web stuff. she thinks its fun and she likes halloween a lot so it's cool. she'd get a huge kick out of doing halloween tattoos during october too. goes and hangs out with toby/nina for it

nina goes to parties . she HAS to get a whole new costume for every party. its super wasteful but she doesnt care all that matters is shes sexy. every year without fail she is a sexy gothic vampire for one of the parties. she works at hot topic, BUT she'd absofuckinglutely get a second job at spirit halloween for october. she's a creepy galll... def sets her apartment up super cutely, brings toby and nat over so they can carve pumpkins with her, tries to dress them up, etc. tons of halloween posts on her social medias too LOL shes so cute

jeff would prob also go to more like... weirder ( ?) parties with creeps and scary people roaming around just doing crazy shit. warehouse shit. prob finds someone to bring home and kill. he thinks its fun, its easier to just go about his days looking the way he does, he loves scaring the fucking shit out of people. doesnt decorate or wear costumes though, says its cringe LMFAO. hates how hyped nina is about it

jane and mary would totally decorate, but in a much more.. ? elegant ? way. like those tall skinny candles, swap out their doormat for something halloween themed, really nicely done pumpkins for some reason. jane would want to host a cute little halloween dinner for uni friends. probably just gets simple costumes, like she'd put on a witch hat and black dress and thats all, but its cute. takes sally (and ben, if sally asks him to come) trick or treating.

sally draws tons of drawings, loves disney halloween marathons, paints on pumpkins(doesnt like the smell of gutting them), etc. she'd decorate with jane cuz she lives w her. she loves it so much but she still gets scared of the animatronic things at stores and stuff LOL. begs ben to trick or treat w her. really embarrassing for ben

ben wouldnt do much besides like. he'd get worse w his internet trolling (scaring the fucking shit out of teens on the internet), start doing more actual hauntings bc nobody will believe his victims during october which means slender wont find out he's doing it. he would not want to go trick or treating..but he'd go with sally with a pillow case and he'd try to awkwardly stand further back but the ppl at the door would always b like 'aw dont be shy come here!' LOL

jack doesnt celebrate it, his family didnt really celebrate it much when he was human so he doesnt do it now. he does get kinda sad during holiday season though, cuz of obvious reasons, but halloween isnt the strongest Pain for him

liu is so fucking miserable theres no way. jk he'd set out like, some pumpkins and maybe get one of those lights that project ghosts onto his garage, but he wouldnt want to go all out or do anything to the inside of his house. jeff really liked halloween when he was younger so its kinda like ouch but he's getting overit. i guess. . .

kate doesnt..celebrate anything........ but when she does occasionally visit the cabin, maybe for food or a shower, and she sees toby decorated, she'd be happy to see it. she's kinda unsettling to be around, but she'd sit down and watch a movie with him in silence. then bring a massive bag of candy to the mine w her w/o telling toby. he just had to cope

ann and lulu dont do anything in the hospital. they dont really have any concept of time........... or the resources to decorate... and they dont get any trick or treaters... cuz theyre...stuck in an abandoned hospital in the woods . . . yeah..

ty for ask anoni like this one. very simple but very sweet