#i look 12 so i can get away with this dumb shit

[genericpuff]

I know LO has been over for a while but something that's always confused me is the 10 year punishment thing. (I dropped the comic before the judgment so correct me if im wrong)

apparently Persephone was sentenced to 10 years in the mortal realm. Yet she complains that Zeus keeps extending her punishment but the timeskip only ends up being 10 years? (From 20 yrs old to 30). that makes it sound like she had a shorter sentence that was extended to 10 yrs (what a fuckin slap on the wrist if it was).

Either her punishment was 10 yrs and Perse was just banking on early parole release or she always had a short sentence which ended up being a measly 10 yrs anyway.

But then that would mean Demeter's punishment period was either tied directly to Persephone's or (for some reason) she had a full 10 yr sentence while Persephone got an initial shorter period

If it's not either of those then shouldn't her punishment be longer? 11, 12, 15, 20 yrs instead? Would make more sense that she was mad if she had to serve at least twice as long as she was told to

Ah so actually she wasn't sentenced to 10 years, she was basically sentenced to a perpetual punishment until Zeus felt certain conditions were met, such as her filling all of the responsibilities of Demeter and turning Minthe back to normal.

So the reason it wound up being 10 years was because Zeus kept finding reasons to extend the sentencing, clearly in an attempt to keep her away from Apollo as he was already suspecting that he might use Persephone's fertility goddess powers to overthrow him.

(joke's on Zeus though, he was overthrown with a poison cupcake lmaooo)

That said, Persephone was... really dumb when she failed her 10th inspection. Primarily because she broke one of the rules Zeus put in place for her before he did the inspection-

Like it's really funny in hindsight to read this scene because at the time the narrative was definitely trying to make us believe that Zeus was the bad guy here, and to a point he's definitely fucking around and not actually planning on letting her out of confinement while also doing jack shit to get to the bottom of his own suspicions regarding his son... but also girl, if your plan was to prove to Zeus that you had filled your end of the bargain, then why try and give him the letter prior to your once-a-year inspection? Either you're failed again over some arbitrary made-up bullshit reason so you can use the guilt-trip method after he's already screwed you over, or best case, you pass and you can deliver the letter to Hades yourself! It was a really dumb move on her part to immediately jump to asking him to bend the rules he made for her when she should know Zeus isn't gonna feel obligated to 'owe' her anything, and is completely contrary to her being as "smart and cunning" as the narrative tries to make us believe (remember when she hustled Hades at chess and lied to him about having a driver's license? where's that Persephone?)

And yeah Zeus really isn't wrong when it comes to how Persephone herself is such a "uwu look at me I'm a smol widdle baby girl, please break the terms of my punishment for me because I asked with tented eyebrows bats eyelashes" , this is honestly why so many people like Zeus as a character in LO contrary to how much the narrative tries to make us hate him, because while he's absolutely an asshole who deserves to be knocked down a peg, at least the narrative doesn't try to gaslight us into thinking he's a good person like it does with H x P. Zeus is a shithead but unapologetically authentic; Persephone and Hades both pretend like they're saints on earth (and the narrative tries to sell them to us as such) meanwhile they're constantly picking on lower class people and using their power and influence to get their way even when they haven't earned it.

But also yeah, it's funny how the fans will say "age doesn't matter when you're a god, time doesn't mean anything when you're immortal" to dismiss the massive age gap between Hades and Persephone, but then cry foul over Zeus keeping her in confinement for 10 years which is a pretty bare ass minimum sentence when you really think about it. Like, if the passage of time really is that inconsequential to a god, then how is 10 years even a punishment? It's only suddenly seen as a massively unfair punishment when it's Persephone who's suffering it.

[algea]

Ghoul School

prompt: you, Lucky, Phoebe, Trevor, and Lars go to investigate a spirit infested school, but ends badly for you.

Ummm basically enemies to lovers?? idrk tbh LOL

warnings: idk scary stuff? cussing! sexual tension! um you smoke 1 cigarette and thats it. GORE!!!!!!!

a/n: I’ve been thinking of this since I saw the movie…

*THIS IS A SUPER LONG STORY!!!*

“A school? Are you serious, Lars?” You mutter, running a hand down your face and sighing.

“I wish. What’s your grudge against a school anyway?” Lars said, cocking an eyebrow at you as he turned to look at you.

“Well I don’t know, maybe it’s the fact that kids still go there. It makes me sick how they have to experience that while being in an environment where it’s supposed to be safe and welcoming.” You explain, tapping your fingers nervously on your desk. Behind you, Lars sighed,

“Well that’s why we’re going innit? So stop worrying about it so much.” You snapped your head when heard the door open. In trudged a slime covered Trevor, Lucky, and Phoebe.

“Lars, I need your help with something!” Lucky called. Lars stood and strode to her, his eyes lingered on you for a little longer than they should’ve. Trevor had a proton pack on his back, which was slightly smoking from the interior.

"Piece of shit only fizzed when we tried to turn it on, know a way to fix it?" Trevor asked, gazing up at Lars. Lars' face was stone cold, probably because he had to deal with the dumb shit Trevor stirred up.

"First off, it's not a piece of shit. Second off, did you even try to figure it out?" Lars scoffed, eyebrows drawn together in a scowl.

"Give it to me, I'll see what I can do." He sighed, obviously not wanting to deal with him anymore. Trevor basically shoved the proton pack into Lars’ arms, which didn't waiver when he received it. Hot. You thought. Lars trudged to his station and set the proton pack down. He removed the protective covering, and coughed when smoke blasted in his face. You snickered, which earned an unimpressed glare from him. Lucky appeared beside you, ready to talk about what else you've come up with her to test.

"What is it?" She asked, tinkering with the item on the desk.

"You know how there's buckshot for a shotgun? I've figured out how to compress protons into little pellets and create a buckshot-type stream." You explained, showing her how it would work on a sheet of paper. You heard Lars muttering about something, though you brushed it off. You handed Lucky a few pellets, which contained about 12 rounds of buckshot each. She eagerly shot off into the test room, excited to try it out. With nothing else to do, you shuffled behind Lars, peering over his shoulder to watch his hands work efficiently. Lars really didn't know you were there, truly he didn't. So when he turned around to go get something from his desk, he jumped back.

"Good Christ you scared the shit out of me!" Lars exclaimed, putting a hand on his chest and letting out a big sigh. He shoved his glasses back up his face and ran a hand through his hair.

"I'm sorry! I just wanted to watch you work..." You trailed off, staring at the ground in embarrassment.

"Well maybe next time maybe fucking keep to yourself." He snapped, brushing past you, his hand grazing yours. You just stood there, hands clenched and cheeks burning in embarrassment. Phoebe stood next to you, putting a hand on your arm and whispering,

"It's ok, really, he doesn't mean it."

You couldn't help the tear that slithered down your cheek. Blinking away the rest of the tears, you muttered an 'excuse me' and walked outside of the lab. Taking a left, you headed through the doors to the cool breeze outside. Stuffing your hand in you pocket, your hand found purchase on the cig case you had. Sliding one out of it and grabbing your lighter, you lit the cig up and shoved the lighter back into your left pocket. You sat against the wall and pulled your knees to your chest. Hearing the doors open, you see Trevor walk out. He spots you and slides down the wall, sitting next to you.

"It's not your fault. It really isn't." Trevor offered, watching you let out a sigh, smoke going with it. You laugh, dragging a hand down your face.

"Listen, don't ever fall in love, man. Shit sucks." You sighed, resting your head against the cool brick. Trevor started to say something but the rest of the three burst through the doors. Lars was wearing his red jacket, walking towards the car. Lucky was carrying yours in her arm, right on the heels of Lars. He spotted you and Trevor sitting down against the wall. Trevor hopped up, offering you a kind hand. You took it, cigarette still in hand.

"Put that shit out." Lars commanded, crossing his arms. You glared at him before taking a long drag and blowing the smoke out. You dropped the rest on the ground, twisting your foot against it which successfully put it out.

"Happy?" You huffed, throwing your arms out in surrender. He just stared at you before pushing past you to get to the car. 'Bitch' You mutter under your breath. God he’s insufferable. Following them, you hopped into the passage seat. Lucky handed you your red jacket, which you put on before you buckled up. You zipped it up all the way burying your face in the collar. Lars watched you from his peripheral, drumming his fingers on the wheel.

“Are gonna stare or drive the goddamn car?” You snapped, turning to gaze at him. His hand tightened on the wheel and started to drive.

To say that Lars was a good driver was a pretty big overstatement. You were even lucky you made it to the school alive, much less in once piece.

“You are never ever driving again, Lars.” You said, stumbling out of the car as a wave of nausea hits you.

“Stuff it.” He replied, pushing up his broken glasses. You turned your gaze to the school, which stood ominously in the distance. You shivered, which didn’t go unnoticed by Lars. He took a small step closer to you, his hand ghosting the small of your back. You jumped slightly at his feather touch, but relished it. Lars flicked on your switch, making your proton pack hum with the familiar ‘whirring’ sound. You walked to the front steps, pushing open the two massive double wooden doors. You were blasted by a cold air, which you stumbled back from.

“S-shit.” You muttered, hands shaking ever so slightly. You reached for your flashlight, but froze when you saw a shadow figure dart through the darkness.

“Lars.” You whispered, a lump forming in your throat. Lars was off busy helping the others get their packs on, which meant you were the only one at the front. You felt something tugging you forward. You stumbled back into the school following the tugging sensation to a room downstairs.

Lars looked up, about to ask you something, when he noticed you were gone.

“Where the bloody hell did Y/N go?” He asked, looking around. His question was answered when he heard your frantic screams coming from inside of the building. They all looked at each other, then bolted to the building.

The building was absolutely freezing. That you were certain of. The frigid temperature fucked a little with your head, at least that’s what you can conclude. You found that being able to see in the dark was not your forte, which caused you to fall down a flight of stairs.

“OH FUCKING SHIT—!” You screech, tumbling down the stairs. You landed with your head cracking against the cold floor. Groaning, you tried to lift your head, but you felt like you were spinning like a top. You eventually stood, swaying slightly after. You blinked a few times, holding your head in your hands. In the corner of your eye, you could see another shadow figure. It was tall, tall enough to reach the ceiling. It started to approach you, but you let out a scream, starting to run back up the stairs. You felt a push, then you tumbled back down the stairs, smashing your head into the pavement again. You landed on your knee, successfully snapping the bone in your shin. You let out another bloodcurdling scream, spitting out blood in the process.

You felt lightheaded as blood spilled from your shin and lips, dribbling down your chin and neck. You were in too much pain to cry as you crumpled to the floor again. You heard all three of them yelling your name, but you couldn’t yell back. Instead, you pulled yourself across the floor, leaving a long streak of blood as you went. With as much effort as you could muster, you pulled yourself to the steps. It took everything for you to scream,

“LARS!!!”

Footsteps could be heard, which sounded like heavy boots clomping towards you. You clawed at the steps, trying to grip anything that you could to pull yourself up. The blond man appeared in the doorway, shining a flashlight down the stairwell. Lars hair was tousled, eyes wide. You make out how he was panting, as well as a horrified look painted across his face.

“oh my god.” Was all he said. He rushed down the stairwell to get you. You couldn’t make out much of anything, you kept fading in and out of consciousness. His hands, his strong and elegant hands held your face as he tried to keep you awake. Your breaths became labored again as you felt extreme pain rippling through your limbs. You let out another scream, which was muffled by Lars chest as he picked you up and started to rush you outside. One of his hands found purchase in your hair, gently stroking it with his thumb as he ran to the car.

Lars felt like it took years to make it to the hospital. His red jacket was drenched in your blood, but he couldn’t care less about what he looked like as he rushed you into the ER. Immediately after, you were rushed into a room, where you would reside for God knows how long. Lars sat next to Lucky, his face grim. He didn’t care how long he had to wait to see you again, just as long as he could see you. Lars stayed there all night, into the morning to be able to see you. When they told him that he could see you, he ran to your room as fast as he could. There you laid, eyes closed, face peaceful. When you heard the footsteps, you opened your eyes and found the blond man standing in your doorway.

“Bloody hell, I thought I’d never see you again.” Lars breathed as he approached your right side. Your hand lay limp on the top of the bedsheet. He brought up a chair and sat, taking your hand and lacing his fingers with yours.

“I was so scared that you were going to die, I couldn’t bear to see it.” He further explained. You smiled weakly and croaked,

“Are you being nice right now? That’s so unlike you Lars.”

Before you said anything else, Lars pressed a kiss to your lips. It wasn’t your ideal first kiss with him, but you relished the feeling.

“I didn’t save you because I thought it was the good thing to do, I saved you because I love you.” Lars whispered, his nose brushing yours.

“God I love you too, Lars.” You whispered back.

[stevierogersbabygirl]

Forbidden love

(Stepfather!Steve Rogers x Reader AU)

Run-through: Your mother just passed away and your stepfather, Steve fills in the hole he has in his sex life, with you.

Themes: angst, smut, age gap

A/N : READER IS 22

A month ago, devastating news arrived.

Your mother passed away from a long battle with breast cancer, leaving you alone with your step-father, Steve Rogers.

Your mom gave birth to you as a teen, and divorced your abusive biological father when you were 12, and since then you have cut contact with him.

8 years later, your mother meets Steve, and gets married to him only a year later, and he becomes the man in your life that you've never had.

You've always had a small internal crush on the man. He is handsome, tall, muscular, and has beautiful blue eyes, and you knew all your girlfriends had some sort of jealousy about your father-daughter relationship with him. All of those physical traits would not come into value if it wasn't for his beautiful personality. Never have you ever heard him have horrible fights with your mother, he was just perfect. Wait.. no this is totally wrong.

You should not be crushing on your father figure and mom's new husband like this, so you've never acted out on these feelings, but no matter how much you convince yourself it's wrong, you always feel the same way about him. So incredibly hot.

You could not wrap your head around the fact that it's happened, that she's gone, and you'd never see her again. It's been really tough for you and Steve.

A month has went past and you notice Steve has started behaving oddly, he was trying to get closer to you in a way that was unusual.

It started with walking around the house shirtless to 'accidentally' walking into you showering, all just to see your reaction, which was an uncomfortable frown on your face.

Today you've decided to finally confront him.

It was around midnight, and the reason it took you until midnight was to gather up courage to confront the guy. You were scared if he would react negatively, as that man is generally intimidating, but finally you've gained all the courage.

You stormed down the hall to the master bedroom with heavy footsteps, and knocked on the door. After a few seconds, Steve opened the door and casually asked with that warm smile on his face "What's up?"

You replied, trying to calm down your angriness, "Can I talk to you?"

"Sure, come in." He said, gesturing you to come inside the room.

You'd stand by the door while you faced him, and you started with, "What's up with all of that shit you do?"

He'd smile wider, looking more innocent, "What shit?" oh you wanted to punch that dumb, innocent smile.

"Walking around the house shirtless, confiscating my sex toys, walking into me showering, why? What do you want?" You'd ask, sounding angrier, crossing your arms, which he thought was cute.

"Doll," He'd say, moving to the front of his bed to sit down, patting the space next to him which gestured you to sit next to him.

You subconsciously followed as instructed.

"Y/N, I've observed how you look at attractive men about my age. I've observed how you talk about my attractiveness to your friends, and I've noticed you staring whenever I got shirtless." He'd say shamelessly, with that same smile on his face.

You'd look at him speechless.

"I know you want me, and I want you too." He said, his smirk widening, as he tucked a hair strand behind your ear.

You'd have that same look at him, out of words.

It all made sense now. Ever since his wife passed away, there was a big hole in his sex life, and the only one who can truly fill it, is you.

"Say something, doll." He said softly, in contrast to his words seconds ago.

"Steve.. but my mom.." You said quietly, stuttering a bit.

"Don't worry about her, sweetheart. Enjoy the moment." He said, gently placing his hand on your thigh and moving it upwards and downwards.

You had felt like Steve betrayed your mother by acting out on his sexual urges towards you, but you've also wanted this for a long time.

Your breathing would fasten, as you turned to look into his eyes as he looked back at yours.

"Are you up for this, Y/N?" Asked Steve, as a tent began to rise in his boxers.

You nodded, your underwear getting increasingly wet.

Steve smirked devilishly, pushed you back-first onto the bed, pulled down your underwear slightly and placed a finger on your folds, making you jump a little. He'd massage your folds slowly, and would go faster, using his thumb to massage your clit.

He'd then insert a finger and slowly move it in and out of your walls, making you have faster breathing and moan in pleasure as your hands grabbed the bedsheets tighter. Then he inserted a second finger and went faster, making your breathing a lot faster as you grasped on the bedsheets tighter.

Steve then leaned down to have a deep kiss with you as he fingered you faster, and finally you felt your walls tighten as you came violently around his fingers.

You'd pant a lot, face reddened, as you decided to look at Steve to see him undressing.

In no time his cock was infront of your mound, as he dragged it up and down your folds.

"I want you to beg, doll." He'd say, still dragging his cock up and down your folds, and you'd reply with "Please Steve I'll be a good girl I promise."

"I want you to call me daddy." He'd say, staring deep into your eyes with his sea blue eyes. So you begged with that nickname multiple times, until he decided it was enough and pushed his cock slowly into you as he stretched you out, making both of you moan simultaneously.

He'd first fuck you slowly, occasionally leaning down to give you kisses, but in no time he'd be fucking you faster and rougher, sometimes even choking your neck and spitting into your mouth.

"Are you close baby?" He'd ask between thrusts. You'd reply with a yes and beg even more, which made him fuck you even harder until you came. He came right after, coating your womb with his cum.

He slowly pulled out and enjoyed the little view of his semen trailing out of your pussy. Both of you were panting hard.

You thought at that moment, damn, this will change everything forever.

[ladykailitha]

Well Met By Moonlight Part 12

Long time no see on this one. Sorry about that. I was trying really hard to balance everything out, but it didn't work. Hopefully this makes up for it.

I would absolutely go back and read part 11 considering how long it's been.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11

In this we find out where the blood came from, Billy gets a gift and a shock, and Eddie proves he's smarter than people give him credit for.

****

Robin sprayed Steve down with a hose and washed away all the blood. Then he shifted. Tommy climbed on his back and dug his hands in the thick fur by his ruff.

He let Tommy steer him to where he needed to go, behind them he could sense both Nancy and Hopper in wolf form running on either side. Neither of them carried any scent of blood, so they weren’t one of his pack who had woken up covered.

Now that he was back in wolf form he could smell that the blood on him wasn’t human. Thank god, but it was still a problem because the scent didn’t smell like any animal he’d ever hunted before.

Patrick was literally on the Coven’s doorstep when Steve arrived. He was surrounded by Billy, Heather, Chrissy, and Keith. Patrick was barely breathing and it looked as though he had been mauled by something. Something big.

Bigger than even Steve.

He nudged Tommy for him to get off which the keeper did quickly. Steve shifted back into his human form.

“Why didn’t you heal him?” he snapped at Billy.

Billy laughed. “Because I figured it was a present to me.”

Steve’s head snapped up. “But you weren’t the one attacked, I was.”

Billy stepped over Patrick’s body as if he was trash. He leaned into Steve’s space. “And you’re weak. Everyone knows it. This was the supernatural community coming to me and telling me that it’s time to dispense of the...” he paused for dramatic affect. “Pleasantries.”

Steve growled and snapped in his face, causing everyone present to gasp.

“I dare you to try, Billy,” he snarled. “You won’t do shit. Everyone knows you’re actual coward, hiding behind the veneer of the Dominus rank. I know about your little spy. I even know who it is.”

Billy was forced to take a step back.

“You don’t know shit, Harrington,” he sneered, trying to gain back the footing he had so clearly lost. “But go on then, come get him if you really think you’re strong enough to take me on.”

Steve scoffed and knelt at Patrick’s side. “I don’t have to take him, Hargrove. I can just do this.”

He picked up Patrick’s wrist. “I can save you,” he murmured. “But you have to consent.”

“Saved me,” Patrick rasped. “Can’t save me–”

“I can,” Steve insisted. “Just give the word and I’ll do it.”

Patrick nodded.

Steve looked up at Chrissy and Keith. “You both saw him nod, yes.”

Keith nodded and Chrissy said, “Yes. I attest that he nodded.”

Steve lowered his mouth onto Patrick’s wrist. Billy whirled around to try to stop him but both Heather and Chrissy leaped to grab his arms to hold him back.

Nancy and Hopper looked on in stunned silence as Patrick’s wounds receded. The boy’s body shook and he howled in pain. Then he laid still.

Everyone watched on.

“Now we see if he has the potential.” Steve got to his feet. He was still naked as he turned to face Billy head on.

“Why would you do that?” Billy snarled. “He tried to kill you. Now if he survives he’ll be able to finish the job. God, Harrington I thought you were dumb but this takes whole new levels.”

Steve scoffed and got right into Billy’s face. They were standing toe to toe and even though Billy was taller and broader than Steve when his blue eyes met Steve’s hazel, Billy ducked his head.

“You didn’t listen, as always,” Steve growled. “He said that I had already saved him. Which means the blood I found when I woke up this morning was that of whatever attacked Patrick.”

Just then Wayne and Eddie landed on the ground behind them, fully transformed. Wayne’s wings were grey to Eddie’s midnight black, but the were longer, heavier, darker in a way that had nothing to do with color but from the aura that surrounded the older vampire.

As none of the current coven were over the age of fifty, most of them born vampires and young, Billy had to bow to Wayne’s age and experience. Wayne hissed and Billy stopped struggling against Keith and Chrissy. He went boneless in their arms as he sank to his knees.

“It’s done,” Wayne said solemnly.

Everyone turned to looked at Patrick.

The boy’s breathing had evened out and his wounds were healed. His clothes were still tattered and torn, covered in the patina of his attack. Steve could hear his heart beat and it too had evened out.

“Take him back to the compound,” he said fiercely. Hopper and Tommy helped Patrick to get on the back of Nancy and Tommy climbed on to help keep him from sliding off. Then Nancy was off like a shot, tearing off toward home.

Steve knelt on the ground and sniffed the blood that remained. It had the taint of something feral and dark. Not werewolf. Not vampire. Some other supernatural being.

“Christ!” Wayne hissed. “What the fuck is a cat sìth doing on this side of the Atlantic?”

Billy scoffed. “There’s no such thing. Not ever legend is real otherwise we’d be fending off at least a thousand demons from Japanese folk lore alone.”

Wayne glowered at him. “Be that as it may, boy. The fae are not only real, but deadly as hell. It’s only because the cat sìth wished it so that he lasted as long as he did.”

Steve rubbed his jaw. There was something off. Something that didn’t make sense.

He shook his head. “A cat sìth was involved, no doubt. But I don’t think that’s who attacked Patrick.”

Every head turned to Steve.

“What do you mean, Stevie?” Eddie asked.

“I’m a good fighter,” Steve explained. “But there is no way that I would have been able to fight one off not if Patrick was the target.”

Billy licked his lips. “Because Patrick wasn’t the target.”

Steve nodded. “The cat sìth was on hand to feast on the real target to make sure there was nothing left.”

“So who was the target?” Hopper growled.

“Considering that Patrick was dumped on Billy’s doorstep?” Chrissy said, “It’s a sure bet it was probably him.”

“But why?” Keith asked.

“Holy fucking shit!” Eddie hissed. “I know exactly what the plan was.”

Billy scoffed. “Like a bitten could figure it out before a bred. Go back to your trailer, trash.”

Wayne leveled Billy a glare that Dominus met head on. Neither man flinched first.

“What have you got, Eddie?” Chrissy asked, breaking the tension.

Eddie puffed out his chest and preened a little at the attention. The alpha in Steve woke with a possessive growl that caught in his throat.

“Patrick was poisoned.”

Every head turned to Steve in concern. Well all but Hopper.

“He’ll be fine,” the gruff former alpha informed the crowd. “Part of the perks of being a werewolf. We can’t be poisoned. It doesn’t stick.”

Steve grinned wolfishly at the vampires. Wayne rolled his eyes.

“Wait,” Chrissy said. “If that’s the case, then they were banking on Billy turning Patrick into a vampire, weren’t they?”

Eddie nodded. “They assumed that Billy would want one of Steve’s assailants as a vampire kind. Adding a valuable ally to the Coven.”

Wayne nodded. “That’s a good thought, boy.” He ruffled Eddie’s hair fondly. “But they didn’t account for one thing.”

Billy grinned this time, finally having caught on. “That I wouldn’t allow a bitten in my coven.”

Steve’s eyes went wide. “So what about the cat sìth?”

“That’s where their plan gets ingenius,” Eddie said. “Billy turns Patrick, Billy dies from the poison, the cat sìth eats or at least mangles Billy’s body, and it looks like a turned vampire killed the Dominus, turning the whole coven against Wayne and me.”

Wayne rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I’m strong and so is Ed, but there is no way that we’d be able to take on an entire coven on our own.”

“Thereby removing the town’s fiercest protector from the board,” Billy finished. “Whoever this person is who’s calling all the shots, I’d like to meet so I can rip off his head.”

Steve winced. “There’s still the problem of what attacked Patrick if it wasn’t the cat sìth.”

Wayne crouched over the spot that the young man had lain and touched the quickly drying blood with all four of his fingers.

He shook his head. “I can’t tell what it was. It’s no beastie I’ve ever run across.”

“Which means that it wasn’t anyone from the community,” Billy said, his relief palpable.

As much as Steve hated to admit it, he agreed with Billy on this one. If Wayne didn’t know the type of supernatural being this was, that meant that it wasn’t someone from Hawkins.

Unfortunately that meant research and Steve wasn’t very good at it. Nancy was, but he wasn’t sure she would tell him what she found, alpha or not.

Eddie seemed to pick up on what he was feeling because Wayne and he shared a glance. Eddie nodded.

“I’ve got you, babe,” he murmured, low in Steve’s ear.

The alpha relaxed.

“As much as I would love to stand around and chat,” Billy said with a sneer. “But the sun is up and I have no intention of frying out here.” He signaled for Chrissy and Keith to follow him and they all went back inside the large manor house that served as the coven headquarters.

That left only Steve and Hopper with Eddie and Wayne.

Steve turned to Hopper. “Get the pack together so I can explain. And you will not speak of what happened here until I arrive. And I forbid Nancy and Tommy from doing the same,” he said slipping into his alpha voice, not trusting Hopper to do as he was told otherwise.

Hopper bristled but shifted back into his wolf form. He took off in a dead heat back toward the Harrington Compound.

Steve sighed. “I don’t know what to do with him now that he’s back. It’s caused such upheaval in the pack that I’m fighting even the ones that backed me in the alpha challenge.”

“It’s certainly not how things are normally done,” Wayne said, nodding. “I will speak with him and see if I can’t get him to be more understanding.”

The alpha nodded. “Thank you.”

Eddie pulled off a backpack that Steve hadn’t noticed in the hubbub of Patrick’s attack and started pulling out large, billowy clothes. He handed the top set to Wayne, who quickly got to work covering every inch of his skin.

As Eddie did the same, he grinned at Steve’s confused expression. “We knew there was a chance that it would be full light by the time we cleared this up and packed accordingly.”

Eddie’s clothes were black to Wayne’s white, but they both included a large brimmed hat, gloves, and bindings to seal their sleeves and pant legs to their limbs.

Steve thought they looked a little ridiculous, but smiled as he waved them off.

He looked up at the manor, once dubbed the Creel House, named after a man who had built it right in vampire territory and paid the ultimate price for his impertinence.

Whatever was brewing in town there was an undercurrent that seemed to stem from the very under belly of the supernatural community and if Steve didn’t figure it out soon, the town was going to rip itself to shreds.

He shifted and ran at full speed back to the compound. He just wasn’t sure if he was running from danger or towards it.

And that frightened him.

****

Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20

Tag List: @mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @emly03

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[noacfapologyst]

birthday wish - matty healy

(the birthday party; day one)

summary: matty, as his very best, has one of the best birthdays of his life and receives one of the warmest surprises he has ever had, with all the people he loves.

warnings: flufly stuff, sickness mentions. nothing more than this, is tender as well.

a/n: thank to @abiiors and @the1975attheirverybest for organize this incredible project! both are such an angels. the dates do not coincide in reality, so do not expect truthfulness in it, 'cause the tour continues in this universe and there are no haircuts, and also the english is not my first language.

wordcounter: 5,1k

Matty wants you to be with him at the exact time when the clock strikes midnight. It doesn't matter if you're an ocean away, just wait to hear you sing her happy birthday.

He knows that even if he wants you to, you can't come out the door. This shouldn't make him sad because it's something he's been facing for years.

You work for the UK's most influential finance company, and while the insistence on doing the work outside has been almost unbearable, Matty knows that you love being in your office or doing the work in the house where you both live together. God, that sounds good.

Officially he's a year older, and without wanting to touch sentimentality, he just feels tired when he rests his head on the white pillow in the hotel room. He doesn't look at his phone screen for a long time, just think about how you're going through the flu that kept you from coming with him to New York.

In the meantime, you have other plans that doesn't involve fever, soup, and phlegm.

You look at your phone screen, you know it's past 12 in New York, so Matty is oficially 35 years old.

It's four in the morning in England, and once again you confirm how much you hate such an abysmal difference in schedules. You could call him now and tell him you still have the flu, but he'd end up figuring out the trick.

Maybe when it's six o'clock in the morning you can greet him with more credibility.

For now, you finish arranging the house and the final touches before taking the suitcase as you sigh out of the house.

--

"Honeeeeeeeeey" Matty literally jumps into bed making them both jump. You rub your forehead and he gives you an innocent smile. It's not an argument at all, but he's gone dumb. "Come on, fly with me to York.

"Matty, I can't." You straighten up on the mattress, giving it room to rest its head on your trunk. "I would love to go, but it's impossible." You wrap your fingers around her hair and massage it into circles. You hear him purr like he's been waiting for him all day. "I have a lot of work, we have like fifty new clients or something like that. I can't apart myself from the company, i really sorry."

"I'm not saying you get apart, you still can work through your computer." He turns to see you with a pretty sad look in his features. "I don't want to be annoying, it's just…it will be my birthday. The first with you as my girlfriend."

"Hey, i can't even say how much i'm sorry, but i really do." You grab his right hand and squeeze his, on your way to kiss his head a desperate fit of coughing interrupts you. "Shit, I'm ill."

It doesn't sound so convincing, but if all goes well, an idea begins to form in your head that might consecrate you as bride of the year.

"But hey, babe, I'm going to reward you when you return. I promise." You see him unravel at your touch, watching him as he indulges in sleep. While he is awake closing his eyes, you whisper into his ear. "You're going to have an incredible birthday, Matty."

- - -

Even though spring has been running through London for over a month, the dawn suddenly turns cold. Not only because you got sick in the course of two days, (even if you did it on purpose and forced yourself to sneeze around the corners), but also because everything feels a little tense in your room. Matty's not mad, obviously he knows he can't get you out of the country in the middle of a flu outbreak let alone by force, but he's pretty sad about getting used to the idea of spending his birthday away from you. It's satirical to him, they've officially been together for nine months, but you've spent more birthdays near him than it looks. By chance or fate, they were always in the same bars or pubs where they celebrated their years of life.

What's ironic, too, is that they met after a financial argument. It was 2017, you were relatively new to the company and Dirty Hit needed a safe backing, betting on the company you still work for. At first there were no complaints, until a money leak was triggered and backing the company you basically went to the studio to talk to Jamie in pretty strong terms.

In the end, there were no dead to bury, everything worked out. What you did bury was your washing soap shirt, thanks to Matty literally spilled his coffee machine on you when you were about to leave. It wasn't a good day for anyone, your folders just fell off and picking them up you bumped into Matty, in a semi-sleeping state with coffee running over your skin and a cheap apology as he opened his eyes surprised enough. Then it just happened for some reason, they both found fun in the same places. It was too many years of seeing each other at nightclubs maybe four times a year, saying hello from afar and going on, until a year and a few months ago they needed an insurance upgrade, which gave you another visit to Dirty Hit, no spilled coffee this time.

Matty asked for your number, then he bought you a drink, and here they are, saying goodbye to each other.

"Hey listen, call my mom if you feel bad or if you need something. At least promise me this." Kiss your head as they both walk towards the front door, you wrapped in a blanket and him between bags and suitcases.

"I'll do." You reassure him with a broad smile. "Stay safe, love you."

"See you soon, love." You and him kiss quickly as he presses his thumb on your cheek. "Love you, too."

"Matty."

"¿Yes"

"You're forgetting something, dude." You unlock your chain with a small white stone hanging, to lock it around her neck later. "Now it's okay." You steal a hug and when they finally part, the taxi comes to the door. "Bye."

"Bye." He greets you with hishand and throws the first accessory he has at hand, his bracelet.

You hate to say goodbye to him when he goes to the airport, and even though you'll see him in two days, you still hate him. You're so used to waking up with him, having its scent all over the house, that when that bubble disappears, you hate what it's created at some point. It hasn't been five minutes and you miss him like you haven't seen him in months.

You squeeze his bracelet. It's their little tradition. Every time one goes on a journey, both exchange accessories in a way to show the other that they are still there even at a distance. You don't remember when it started, but you like the sentimentality of the issue.

Now, of course Matty's right: you'll call Denise. You already have, actually. She's aware of all the deception and she's the one who's most excited about it. He talked to Tom and Louis while you talked to Adam, because he's the least likely to reveal it to your boyfriend. It's not that you don't trust others, it's just that he's wiser for this.

- - -

You touch your head down because actually if you feel sick, maybe you've been too extreme, but you hope it's worth it. Denise calls on your portal with the car horn pulling you out of the trance, you get in the car and when you want to say something else you just fall asleep in the backseat.

Half an hour later, she wakes you up gently rocking you. She's so much like Matty you could cry, you love everything her family is and how you've been treated from the first day you walked through that door. Even if she's your mother-in-law, they get along incredibly well considering how fast they've connected.

"Are you sure about this?" She asks, handing over the car keys and lowering the suitcases from the trunk. "I mean, you look really tired."

"I know, I know. I spend the day thinking if i had everything, and thinking about the gift, and trying to organize the things with Adam, meanwhile i tried to not being colapsed by the numbers." The two laugh, she looks at you with a more relaxed expression and just lets her walls fall down.

"Matty is so lucky to have you." She murmurs with bright eyes and genuine happiness. "I don't know if I've ever met someone capable of getting sick just for surpise his boyfriend in his birthday…on the other side of the world." You think she's about to get emocional when her eyes start stinging, and she notices it. "I get a bit emotional but you know, my son is growing up next to someone who truly loves him, and as a mother you don't know how important it is to know that."

Well, now you'll cry.

"Oh god, I love you Denise." You drop your bags and embrace her with the greatest affection you've ever had. "I'll might cry."

She laughs tenderly. "Keep the tears for the show, darling."

----

The belief that it would be a seven-hour flight (plus the check-in hours, obviously) that would be somewhat exhausting and that it would take time to pass becomes part lie and part truth. You actually have a lot of fun with Denise telling you anecdotes of her life in the span of waiting time to board, you can't lie, but then on the plane you start to get bored after a few hours: you've seen a movie, you've slept, you've saturated your Spotify and you only think about how Matty will be. You feel guilty about the birthday message because you know he'll be worried thinking that something is up, but later you'll ask for forgiveness.

Happy birthdayy Matty. I love you so much, i hope you ́ll always be happy.

This is too short, but i feel totally sick. I'll send you a large text later.

Matty tosses and turns in bed heavily after waking up with that message as his first course. He sighs as he goes to the bathroom, looks at himself in the mirror running a hand through his hair. It feels terrible.

Well, you haven't forgotten his birthday, but he feels that you have. Maybe it's not that.

He knows you don't like him smoking too much, but you're not here and it's the only thing keeping him sane so he doesn't yell at you if he's done something wrong. He opens the window and collapses on the balcony floor, a cigarette between his lips. He exhales, he can't believe he's spending the time like that on his birthday.

He feels like he has a dagger stuck somewhere in his body, he feels tense and knows he's not in the bliss mode that someone should have on their birthday. But God, he hates to blame himself and blame you for things.

You've been weird for days, and yes, maybe you're sick, but in the months you´ve been with him you've never been this weird. Overthinking things isn't something he likes or does too much, but now he's debating whether something has happened and you don't want to tell him. He exhales again and relapses into the state of his cuticles, but as a cumpulsive reflex he bites them. Has he done something wrong? Has he crossed any limits? Did you get angry about something he didn't do? Did he forgot your birthday? No, he hasn't forgotten that.

Trata de no permitirse pensar en la pregunta más dolorosa para él: ¿Hay alguien más? ¿Estás cansado de él y de su vida de poca estabilidad? Bueno, en cualquier caso te merecerías algo mejor.

Adam knocks on the door as an answer to problems. He knows he has to take care of him until you make your appearance, but everyone is aware that he may not be in his best mood.

"Hey, birthday boy, how did you wake up?" When Matty opens the door, he hugs him and Adam knows his best friend needs him. "Matty, tell me."

"It's just…No, it's a silly thing." He regrets it fluttering his eyes, but collapses on the bed tiredly. "I'm tired, that's all."

"No, it's not. Something is affecting you, so definitely there is something more than being tired. You dońt have to fake it with me, you know." Adam knows the reason why he is like this, and although he wants to tell him that she's really on her way, he can't.

"It's her, Adam. She ́s been in a distant mode for days, acting strange." He shrugs, Adam sits on the other end of the mattress, sinking it. "Her greeting was a bit cold, or too generic. It's not typycal for her.

Adam feels really bad lying to his friend, he feels like a traitor, and he really struggles to find the right words. "Didn't you tell me she was sick?" He asks, and Matty sighs, nodding. "Should be this."

"yes, but.."

"Listen to me, really." Adam cuts him off and thinks about how much he can take this like this, he can't allow his partner to collapse before the show, much less the surprise. "She loves you, i d on't know the reason for his behavior and I would love to know so I can tell you, but unfortunately I don't know." Guilty, liar. "Despite that, you just turned 35, it's too early for the midlife crisis for a congratulation. The day is not over yet

Matty slurps as he swallows without the strength to continue the conversation, not in this tone at least. He doesn't have any argument to play in his favor and that makes him a little angry.

"You have a birthday show tonight, it will be nice."

- - -

Madison Square Garden will never cease to amaze you and seem practically huge. You do not manage to make the connection between the measures of the venue, it seems much bigger than it is. You have entered more than once, both as a spectator of shows or as you are now, as an accompanist of the band that presents on the day, and still it leaves you breathless how massive it is. Not in your best dreams would you imagine having the chance to tour it.

But, what makes you more sensitive is to hear so many people divided into the branches and sections of the seats and the standing field cheering, shouting and even crying with a euphoric amount of adrenaline in the body by the celestial and pink lights that illuminate the stage, decorated in its scenography representing a house with all the rooms. It's still hard for you to believe that you're dating the lead singer of a band that has mobilized so many people around the world for years. They have come to see the four of them, they have come to hear what is the story they have to tell and to show them their affection and loyalty as they identify themselves in tears in the four chords of their best songs.

In a way you think that's everything a singer expects, and that by the same token, it's the most sincere reason for the fans in front of Matty's birthday. Because even though you don't spend too much time on the floor, you manage to see posters related to her birthday.

The whole Healy family, followed by you, take refuge in George and Adam's dressing rooms, because even if you came out of a cake in Matty's dressing room when the delivery changes, you'd lose the idea you planned. Now, you just hope Matty doesn't find it weird enough that they switched The Birthday Party to Act 3, and Guys is almost after. I wouldn't have to do that, in fact, since it's a pretty emotional and pretty setlist to play on your birthday.

When Matty's nightmare act ends and he descends from the second stage you try to make as little noise as possible next to his dressing room, mainly because you're going to scare him. The one you're scaring is George, but he's covering it up by saying there was a spider in his dressing room. Then with a thumb sign him shows that everything is ready for the next step. When the act of Still at their very best (the last of the show) begins with If you ́re too shy, you get ready, two songs later you have to get the whole audience to see you, but not Matty.

Then, It ́s not living reaches the middle with a consecrated closure between the drums and the guitar. Cheers fill the place. The action then begins when all the screens change focus and signs appear saying that, in front of the people you will see now, keep quiet because it is a surprise for both Matty and the fans. There are confused looks, intertwined, nobody understands anything but they keep singing so as not to show that the screens have changed again.

The crowd wants to go crazy, and some screams escape when it's you who's seen go behind the scenes. For the sake of greater care, you go behind George's drums and ask everyone with your fingers to be silent on the subject. You sit behind the biggest drum and you see it over your head.

There he is, dressed up in his black pants, his white shirt and previously the suit jacket with the pants. His tie's almost untied, and it makes you laugh, you don't think he knows he tied it wrong. The curls fall in front of him out of control due to tiredness and sweat, but you think he's never looked better in years.

"Thanks for coming to see the greatest band in the world, the 1975!" The sticks resonate on the drum, the play of grey lights makes everything a little psychedelic. The crowd bursts into cheers without differentiating the why. "And today it's my birthday, so thank you for coming here. I love you guys."

There's a mixture of exasperated emotions all over the compound. Even you have glassy eyes to see him smile in such a pure way, his place has always been and always will be the stage in front of the fans, when he is freer than ever and where he feels comfortable. This particular show is not just important because of this event, but because in fact, it's the end of the tour. It's emotionally sad, the melancholy is reciprocal in the stadium because nobody knows when there will be a new tour of them.

"Yeah, I know, this is sad. It ́s ironic that my birthday will be the last show of the tour." He grins and laughs showing his teeth to the audience. "But, thanks for being here, is my biggest gift."

So, Matty freaks out when he hears a noise behind him.

"And it's not over yet, friend of mine." Absolutely everyone is surprised to hear George through the microphone resonating in the stadium, Matty doesn't understand what's going on either. "Ladies and gentleman, please everybody look at the screen."

What happens next is the best and the worst that Matty has had in front of him, cataloging it as the worst because when pictures of him appear when he was little with his mother and father, playing guitar or just being a kid, it makes him wiggle and feel like he could really die right there from the excitement. Without looking away, dazzled and uncertain but motivated to keep seeing him, he sits on the edge of the stage.

The atmosphere is automatically warm, but even the noise does not break it. The screen now changes, and begins with a greeting from George, pointing to a picture of when they were 13, how they have grown up so far and how you can't imagine a life without him, then closes Charly telling how much she enjoys talking to him, and how much fun he is in any situation. Then comes Adam, along with Carly, telling how he is the youngest of the group, but how important he is for both of them in their lives. Finally there is Ross, who talks about how fortunate he is to have him as a friend, how proud he is of everything he has accomplished and how much he appreciates his friendship.

Screen in black. Matty takes care of the tears because he suspects it doesn't end there, but his eyes turn to candy, all his factions calm down and he refrains from leaping into the arms of his friends.

You can't tell how many, but suddenly fans appear in the video, talking about how they've saved their lives through the band, the refuge it's for them and how much the band has done in terms of connecting them with their closest friends, and giving them a reason to keep fighting. Everyone laughs when they hear the reactions of the fans appearing in the video, realizing it.

Now yes, everything seems to indicate that it's over. Matty tries to stand up, but something stops him.

Her mother. On the screen.

Satirically, her greeting begins by asking if she thought they had forgotten about her, but without giving any room to react, Louis and Tom appear on the screen, their entire family in one place.

Really, Matty feels like the luckiest person in the world to have so much affection around him, he doesn't know if he deserves it, but he accepts it and feels like the feeling of familiarity and brotherhood envelops his body as his brother and his parents talk about how he's changed everyone's lives, the support he's been in his brother's life, and how the little boy who played the guitar off-tune at four o'clock in the afternoon has become a man made and upright, able to love and defend his people, with a exemplary talent.

Matty blinks, doesn't know how to go on now. He simply knows that he cannot ask for anything else for his life, he is loved by those he loves, and is reciprocated.

The screen lights up for the last time. You and Mayhem.

You look the at George, who cries just like you. He notices your gaze but responds only with a quick smile.

"Hey, honey, this will be short because I hope you know how happy I am to have you in my life." Matty stops controlling the tears, bathes in them, his shirt is full of water right now. So he remembers your message today, and he knows that you were behind all this, no one else would have done it this way otherwise. He sees his dog move his front legs and really misses him: "Happy birthday, I love you more than my words can prove. Thank you for being the most amazing, sweetest human being I've ever met. You're an angel and I love to agree with you." The greeting ends when you send a kiss to the camera, followed by Mayhem's osico in the foreground with a heart, with an M drawn.

The legend of The End stands on top. Everyone has cried, the makeup has gone off but this is the most intimate thing that everyone has experienced today. Everybody's grateful for coming to celebrate Matty.

"Could you please close your eyes?" Adam asks, and Matty is not the one who could say no.

Matty continues sitting, not moving. He can't process everything his head is telling him miles per second. He knows that he can't speak well enough after crying and will only say silly phrases, But it has to. Ross comes to his rescue and has a hand to lift him up. They hug with Matty crying on his shoulder while continuing to repeat that she loves him. Ross pats him on the back and points to Adam on the microphone.

He smells something as smoke, and he's right. Behind the scenes of the three entrances appear his mother, his father and Louis beside him with a rectangular cake with porcelain figures of the little house, and the four figures of the band, with a 35 as a candle.

Ross lets Matty go, and when the distance is unbearable, you're the one who runs to grab his hands when everyone screams to open his eyes. He opens them and finds you embraced to his body more tightly than ever. By inertia, he tightens the grip on your waist without ceasing to hug you. Now neither of us knows who to blame for the water running down the Briton's white shirt.

"I love you. I love you. I love you." You whisper incessantly, as he stabilizes in front of you, trying to get out of the surprise and accepting that you're actually in front of him, it's not a dream, he looks at the cake and cries again. He watches the audience feeling their heart pouring out into their hands. "Happy everything, my love."

He pulls you away from the grip when the birthday song rings out and has the cake in front of him without realizing it, but holds your hand in his fist. He coins it, and he protects it inside him. His smile is sadly short, but he has never had a greater look of genuine love on him than now. His wet eyelids, his face full of dry tears and his eyes glowing like never before. All thanks to you. He looks back at the cake and makes a face of utter surprise when he sees his figure made of porcelain sitting on the piano.

"Hey, that's me!" He's chirping like he's a kid who just ate a paddle he's seen in the store. Its essence is discovered there, that immeasurable happiness that creeps through all present.

He couldn't even think about how much he loves you because everything happens too fast, but he knows that after this he could never leave you. He doesn't know it yet, but this is the moment when Matty would close everything else. After this he would decide that you would be the woman of his life, that he would marry you and that they would have a family. You just kind of signed a sentence saying that he would never let anything happen to you and that if he had to lay down his life for you, he would.

George, Adam and Ross approach Matty as well, along with Polly, John and the rest of the band, all standing in a semicircle in front of the stage. The fire lights up Matty's face who has refused to block the touch of you two. You literally have to whisper his name in his face with a silly smile so he'll let you go and be the only one in the middle of the round.

The flashes of the phones illuminate the scene, there is the same chorus symphony composed of dozens of voices that work at the same time without prior coordination. No, it's not a movie and it's not a dream that someone's going to wake up from, it's really happening.

The fire dissipates, again the sound of clashing palms comforts the place. Denise leaves the cake on the piano and hurls herself at her son. She loves him so much, and is so happy that he can be really happy being who he is. The sequence is quite fast, his family hugs him, then the four hug and the difference in height is noticeable between the four males. Then goes Polly, Jhon and everyone else who's there. The show is delayed for the same reason, but nobody really cares about sacrificing a song to be part of this moment.

He opens his arms towards you and makes you fly through the air for a second before giving you his best Chesire Cat smile. Seize the moment to steal a quick kiss leaving behind the expanse of euphoria that surrounds them. For Matty there really is nothing else right now than him and you on the whole ethereal plane he's met at the age of 35. Fans disappear, the band and their parents too, as long as it merges into you in touch can only feel how they function the same way, being really a single soul trapped between two bodies. God, he's lovesick of the love he has for you, and he could throw it up right now, but surely all he could do is throw up his heart.

The contact ends, and finally he approaches the microphone.

"I really have the greatest persons and the greatest fans in the world. I ́m incredibly glad about it." He runs his hand through his hair and laughs, shedding his last tears. "Saying thanks it wouln ́t be enough, and I could never finish thanking you for all this, but i love each and every one of you, honestly."

Matty grabs his acoustic guitar almost the second he says that. The chords of The birthday party are heard. Everything is extremely special about this song and it is something narrow and deep, there is a truth to count on the song at this moment so charged with sentimentality.

Matty has spent years of his lost life without having a reason to keep him going, floating around while surviving, or trying to. He has come and gone as far as anyone could imagine, has suffered perhaps too much to expose his vulnerability. Indeed, he felt lost in hell during the most unbearably difficult years of his life. He's driven so many people away by his personality and by neglecting so many ties, but now he knows.

He has alienated so many people by his personality and by neglecting so many ties, but now he knows that although he may be late for some, he has enough with him. All your friends are here, in the same scene, no matter what that means.

The following of Guys in a much calmer tone makes everyone end up crying, their most personal song as a band. Matty feels the same as before, his friends have been the best thing that's ever happened to him, and they've saved his life thousands and thousands of times. He could not get used to the idea of lose them, because he would crumble without them in his life.

Just like he would do without you.

In the end, Matty makes fun of himself for being so bitter all day. He really had the best birthday of his entire life.

in my head this is a tender idea of ​​how much I would give way to see matty happy, so I hope that was achieved. also, happy birthday weekend matty you are the best.

let me know what you think, also let me know if you want to be on my tag list <3

[steifel]

Ok so i've been thinking about the what ifs from the outsiders and the biggest one i've been thinking about (that i haven't seen very many people talk about) is what if the kid was Soda's?....

So anyways here are some head canons about that.

First off you cannot convince me this boy was not secretly a little stoked

I mean obviously he was scared since its quite literally the worst time possible, him and Sandy are only 16, him and Darry are already struggling to make ends meet, etc, etc, etc

However he wants like 12 kids so he is super excited

Soda is definitely terrified to tell Darry

He tries and falls to tell him multiple times

"Hay Darel can i talk to you for a second i got something i really need to tell you" Darry looks up "yeah im all ears go ahead" Soda runs away screaming "nevermind its not important" *insert Darry rolling his eyes and going back to whatever he was doing"

When he finally does get the balls to tell Darry he cant stand to look is brother in the eyes

"Sandy's pregnant" soda finally got the words out looking up at his big brother whos strong hands grabbed his shoulder. "Soda this isn't funny don't joke like that" a silent tear fell down Soda's face as he saw the look on Darry's "I an't joking Darry... Im being serious" more tears start coming from both of the boys as Darry pulls his brother into a tight hug "its gonna be ok Soda im still here it's gonna be ok"

Once they all got used to the idea the whole gang was super supportive

Two bit would be so stoked to be an uncle

"Wont it be great ill be uncle Keith" the whole gang stops and dally stairs into Twobits soul "fuck you mean uncle Keith? Your gonna be goddamn uncle Twobit"

The first thing Soda wants to do when he finds out is tell Ponyboy

This makes the week the boys were gone even harder

When he did finally get the chance to tell Ponyboy he was legitimately so excited

Like imagine them sitting in the hospital pony laying on Sodas lap

"Hay Pony i know you got a hell of a lot on your mind but i got something to tell you" "hmm" the younger boy hummed the only clue that he was still awake "your gonna be an uncle" Ponyboy shot up almost hitting Soda in the face "you mean..." Soda nodded "sandys pregnant im gonna be a dad" Ponyboy pulled Soda into an exited hug "can i name him?" Pony looked at his confused brother "its only fair seeing how you named me when you were 3 fucking years old" Darry started laughing louder than he had in weeks "come on Soda its only fair"

He never got the chance to tell Johnny and that fact will haunt him for the rest of his life

Once he finally feels like Pony is gonna be ok he spends every waking moment with Sandy

Hand on the belly 100% of the time

He is definitely the type of guy to talk to his kid in udero

Random shit too

"So anyway the wendsheald wiper was not coming off so Steve stepped on the hood of the car and put his whole weight into it and..." Sandy looked down at him smiling "you know most dads to be talk to their kids about how much they love them and your telling your future kid about some dumb shit you and Steve got up too" Soda scoffed faking offence " yeah its a funny story besides this kid needs to know what he's getting himself into being born into my gang"

He for sure tried to sneak a peak when Sandy was giving birth and he definitely passed out

Soda is CONVINCED its gonna be a boy

When the doctor announces"its a girl" he is legitimately confused

"What do you mean its a girl? Like he doesn't have a dick?"

Once he gets used to the fact that he has a daughter he is so Goddamn proud of her

He cries the first time he holds his daughter

Its literally adorable he'll be sitting there talking to her

"Hi little lady im your dad Sodapop and i love you so so so so much"

When he gets to show her off to the gang his smile is a mile wide

"Hi guys i want you to meet the newest member of the Curtis family" Soda said smiling as he showed his new daughter to all of his friends "she looks like a babydoll" Steve said softly as he reached for her little hand "hay thats a damn good name Babydoll" pony exclaims as he reaches out to hold his niece

AN: thanks for reading and allowing me to share some thoughts from the craziness that is my brain. As always i am so sorry for any spelling or grammar mistakes i am just hella dislexic

[midnight-talescape]

𝒫𝓇𝑜𝓉𝑒𝒸𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃 (𝐵𝑜𝒹𝓎𝑔𝓊𝒶𝓇𝒹 𝑀𝒾𝑔𝓊𝑒𝓁 𝒪’𝒽𝒶𝓇𝒶 𝓍 𝑅𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇)

Kinktober Day 12: Somnophilia

I don't believe in bottom Miguel but I'm ready to pay money to hear the man whimper. I want him to beg

Warning: somnophillia, noncon? age gap, reader is at least 18 tho, it's just Miguel is old, a little gaslighting etc, etc you get the point not for kid

Genre: filthy filthy smut

Word Count: 2609

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It was his mission to protect you.

To get close to you and your family, so he can gather evidence and take them down.

He shouldn't be attached to you, you were just a target after all.

You were only supposed to be a target.

But he couldn't stop himself from being attracted to you.

You were just so…beautiful

When he took the mission he fully expected you to be a brat, and don't get him wrong, you are.

You refuse to wake up in the morning, is a lazy fuck who refuses to do anything unless he forces you, you don't eat unless he cooks, and you practically refuse to walk unless you need to.

Sometimes Miguel wonders if he came to be your bodyguard or your maid.

But you also go out of your way to make sure he takes care of himself, dragging him along on all your dumb little adventures.

He tried to push down his feelings for you.

He really did.

He reminded himself that you were the child of his enemy, the sole heir of the largest mafia in the city. That you guys can never be together and after his mission is over you will despise him.

Even if you weren’t his target and he was a regular bodyguard, he was still too old for you. Why will someone like you like a guy who’s so much older than you? Cough dilf cough

But he couldn't.

Not when you trust him so full-heartedly and look up at him with your beautiful eyes.

Not when you ask him to dance at the party, and when you guys kiss each other for a dare.

You were his secret desire, something he couldn't have.

But god help him, if he sees anyone near you, if he can't have you, no one else should either.

Which is why you're currently holding onto his arm, trying to stop him from beating the living shit out of the guy who dares get touchy with you.

“Miguel! Stop it!” you yell as you hold onto his arm trying to pull him back,

Miguel looks back at you snarling, his eyes maniacal and filled with rage,

“No! He insulted you! I'm not stopping until he regrets it!”

“I’m sure he’s regretting it right now, please stop you’re scaring me, Miguel!”

Hearing your words Miguel turned towards you, before leaning down and breathing heavily,

“I-im sorry, I lost control there. Are you okay, (Y/N)?”

“Yes, I'm okay! Are you alright?” You ask as you wipe away some of the blood on his face,

Miguel chuckled as you said that. You completely ignored the fact that he was the one who was beating up the other guy, solely focused on his safety.

He shouldn't feel delighted to see your cruelty showing, but as the target of your worries and affection, he couldn't help but feel satisfied.

“Me? Of course, I'm alright, princesa.”

“Are you sure?” you ask worriedly while circling him trying to make sure there’s no injury on him,

Miguel wrapped his arm around your waist tightly and buried his face in the crook of your neck,

“Yes, there's no need to worry about me…” Miguel holds back the desire to moan into your neck as he breathes in your scent,

I'm a bastard, I'm a sick fucking bastard…

You leaned into his arm and closed your eyes in content, you do enjoy hugs despite not giving them out often.

His arm was large and firm, kinda like a warm pillow. It makes you feel safe like he can protect you from anything in the world. As you wrapped your arm around his waist, you thought,

I swear this is the only reason I ask Father for him to be my bodyguard.

Miguel lifted you into his arm, carrying you bridal style, as though you were his entire world.

And in a way… you are.

As you wrapped your arm around his neck, sighing in contentment, Miguel looked down at you with a warm smile.

“You look cute when you’re leaning into my arm, Cariño. I should do this more often…” Miguel said jokingly but his eyes were deadly serious, he wish he could cuddle you more often,

You yawned as you made an order on your phone to take care of the man in the alley as Miguel began to take you back home,

“We should, you are very comfortable, Miguel,”

Miguel blushed at your statement, he didn't expect you to agree with him, feeling a little bolder he said,

“I'm glad you think so, maybe next time I can be your mattress?”

What am I doing?! She will hate me!!! What kind of creep says that?! What the fuck is wrong with me?!

“Can you do that? Is that a part of your job description?”

He nearly choked when you said that. He didn't expect you to be so down with this, and so excited

“Of course, anything to make you happy, proncesa,” he said as he placed a kiss on your forehead, his voice having an undertone of excitement,

You snuggled deeper into his chest, allowing your face to rest on the soft muscle,

“I'm so glad I picked you to be my bodyguard, Miguel. I knew picking people based on how pretty I find them was a good baseline!”

A faint blush appeared on Miguel's face as he held you tighter to him,

“I'm glad you find me pretty enough to be your bodyguard…”

He might have said something else and you might have answered back, but he was too distracted by what you said, while you were too distracted by his pecs.

When you guys finally reached your mansion he finally calmed down a little and began placing you on your bed.

Just as he was about to leave you stopped him,

“I thought you promised to be my mattress, Miguel? Come sleep with meeeeeee, you look warm and comfortable, please.” You said making grabby hands toward him,

Miguel sighed as he looked at you, trying his best to hide how flustered he is

“You’re a brat sometime you know?”

“Pleeeeeease, Miguel?” You ask again doing your best puppy eyes,

“Fine, I will go change first,” Miguel said, not being able to say no to your puppy eyes,

A part of him wants to sleep next to you, to hold your body in his arms, even if it’s just for a single night.

By the time he came back you were already changed and waiting for him. As soon as he got on your bed, you almost immediately snuggled onto him.

“Good night, Miguel” you mumbled as you closed your eyes sleepily,

Miguel lowered his eyes and placed a kiss on your cheek before whispering hoarsely,

“Sleep tight, princesa…”

As your breathing slowed and you fell into a deep sleep, Miguel closed his eyes as well, desperately trying to sleep and ignoring your warm body so close to his.

Your body felt so tiny in his arms.

Miguel thought about all the things he wanted to do to you. Things that no bodyguard should ever think of doing to their client.

Miguel's eyes stayed shut as he tried to sleep, but his imagination filled with possibilities of what he could do to you.

He was pretty successful until he felt your mouth on his chest, nibbling it softly in your sleep.

What are you dreaming of? You breastfeeding me, I mean what?

“Mmmh~”

Miguel let out a soft moan as he felt you bite down on his pecs, shuddering as he clenched his hand into a fist.

His brain is filled with vulgar thoughts of what he wants to do to you.

I-i should leave, go do some exercise, and blow off some steam. This isn't right, she's a target, I shouldn't feel this way.

Just as he was about to leave, you tighten your arm around his waist whining,

“D-dont leave…”

Well fuck

Miguel was frozen in place, he wanted to leave but he couldn't move an inch because of you.

"Okay, Okay, Fine I won't leave,”

He whispered as he tried to ignore the way you were clinging onto him, the way his body reacted to you and the way his mind was going feral with lust.

As you buried your face in his chest again, leaving behind little bite marks in your dream, Miguel couldn't take it anymore.

In a moment of weakness, he tilted your face up toward him and pressed his lip against yours.

You moaned softly in your sleep, the taste of your mouth on his caused Miguel to freeze as he felt his cock harden.

This is wrong, this is so wrong, you were asleep for fuck sake

But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't stop himself from wanting you.

Even as an undercover cop that's meant to take down your family, somehow being your bodyguard and keeping you with him is more important to him now.

He pressed a soft kiss against your neck, his tongue slowly tracing the curves there as his cock throbbed painfully in his pants.

Miguel knew this was wrong, and yet he couldn't stop himself.

You writhed in your sleep, a soft whimper escaping your lips as Miguel's hand traced the curves of your back and slid down to your ass.

The thoughts running through his mind were disturbing, considering his profession as your bodyguard and yet the desire seemed to consume him.

His fingers traced over the small bruises and cuts on your body, he saw proof of how dangerous your life was. He should focus on how to protect you, to keep you safe, or at the very least gather more evidence against your family, and yet, all he could think about was how to claim you as his.

Miguel's hand slipped under your shirt and lifted it up, revealing your breast. He took a hardened nipple into his mouth, biting it gently as his other hand slipped between your legs.

You let out a moan in your sleep as you tried to close your leg, catching Miguel’s hand between your soft thigh.

As he watched your body twist and writhe under him, he realized he didn't care about the fact that you were his target and he was your bodyguard.

He held his hand near your panties and he could feel the wetness that was seeping through. He was getting you aroused in your sleep.

Miguel couldn't help but feel the thrill and wrongness of it all mixing together in his mind.

His mouth continues to lick and bite your breast, gently holding your nipple between his teeth and grinding it slowly like he was savoring it.

You whimpered in your sleep, weakly trying to push away the intruder that was causing you discomfort in your sleep.

He moved your panties to the side, exposing your wet cunt. His finger gently circled your clit before he slipped a finger inside you, your body trembled in your sleep as you let out a small gasp. Your eyes begin to flutter as you feel the discomfort in your body.

Noticing this Miguel stopped fingering you momentarily to place a kiss on your forehead, using his free to stroke your back gently as he whispered,

“It's okay, princesa. Go back to sleep, I will take care of you…”

Hearing his words you slowly fell back into a deeper sleep, before letting out a louder moan as Miguel started thrusting his finger into you faster.

As his fingers moved inside you, he felt your walls contracting and clenching around his finger. He could hear your soft groan as he hit your sensitive spot and the tear that threatened to fall from under your closed eyelids.

A few minutes later with a shuddering cry, you orgasm onto his finger, drenching the sheet under you and his hand wet.

Miguel grinned as he felt the warm fluid on his fingers, without hesitation he slipped another finger inside you, holding your body tightly as your back arched.

You let out a sob as you felt your body being stretched open in your sleep, a soft whimper escaping your lips as Miguel's warm hands moved across your bare body.

Miguel couldn't stop himself, he wanted you too much. To hold you and fuck you senseless, making you cry out his name as you beg for him to stop.

Letting go of your breast he slowly kissed his way up your neck again. As he groaned into your neck, one by one he slipped his fingers inside you, forcing your body to stay still as he stretched you open.

Taking in a sick satisfaction as he forced you to come on his hand over and over again. Your cry and whimper getting more and more desperate as your was overstimulated.

Finally pulling his finger out, he licked the juice off his finger before lowering his head to your thigh.

As you let out a mewl in your sleep, Miguel couldn't resist taking your clit into his mouth, hungrily sucking on it like his life depends on it.

"You taste so sweet, princesa," Miguel mumbled into your cunt, his nose buried deep inside you, smelling your tantalizing scent as he thrust his tongue inside you,

Every moment, he felt guilt clawing at his conscience, reminding him of his duties as your undercover bodyguard. He wasn't supposed to want you, let alone touch you.

As his tongue danced around your clit, Miguel couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt. It was wrong to want you. As his consciousness yelled at him to stop, he slid a finger back inside you, finding your g-spot before thrusting into you with his tongue.

You cried out in your sleep, the sound getting louder and louder as Miguel continued to thrust into you. Your body clamped down on his fingers, as your body began to shake violently. Your eyes fluttering rapidly seemingly ready to wake up at any moment.

With a final suck, you squirted onto Miguel's face, as your eyes flew open your breathing heavy as you woke up confused and your face covered in tears.

“W-what is happening?” You ask dazed and very confused,

Miguel wiped off his face before holding your face in his hand and whispered,

“You’re dreaming, princesa… go back to sleep…”

“A-am i? You ask sleepily, your body feels sore and sticky,

“Of course, Princesa… your dreams are always weird when you’re tired. Just close your eyes, carino… I will take care of you…”

You tried to question what was happening more, but you were so tired.

As you fell asleep again, Miguel knew he was off the hook. You never remember anything that happened when you're half asleep.

But he needs to stop, he can only gaslight you so many times. You’re dense, not stupid.

With a groan, he pulled out his thick erection that had been painfully hard in the last few hours.

With a few quick strokes, he placed his cock between your thigh, smearing his precum onto your thigh.

With a few grunts, he begins thrusting his cock between your thigh, ignoring your sleepy cry and whining.

Eventually, he climaxed onto you, spilling white cum across your chest and legs. Miguel panted as he watched your body tainted by his seed he finally regained his clarity.

He should feel sick for what he did to you in your sleep, but he doesn't.

Only a sick sense of satisfaction.

Getting up, he went to get a towel to clean you up.

He will never let you know what he did to you…

[samson-the-whale]

So ... I made a self insert fore WIR ....ya

:]

Name: Scrapper/scrap

Gender: male (this mf bisexual)

Age: in his game like 20s to 30s if we go with his game age like 30s or 40s 

Game: Scrapper's scrape up

(its like punch out game mechanics game play wies)

Character interactions:

 Hc he gets pumped up easily and likes to push people in the shoulder lightly but really fast when he needs to let out that excitement (t can be like a charging up a special move in his game) and might accidentally leave a bruise 

When he does it to Ralph it tickles 

When he punches Felix he says ow but then hammers his arm and it heals

When he did it to Calhoun for the first time she hit him across the room because she thought he was picking fights and fucking K.Od him with that bitch slap

Then was kind of apologetic after Felix explained and yelled "oh shoot sorry" then Scrap still laying in the floor gives a thumbs up and a strained "I'm ok...it's ok"

 Also if he did the punching thing with Vanelopie she would just pixilate a bit and his punches would almost go through her shoulder kinda I think much like Ralph it would also just tickle 

Ralph:

Before the whole plot of the movie I like to think Ralph liked him but was kind of bitter "he has huge fists and smashes stuff why am "I" the villain?" XD

Ok ok 

So he and Ralph actually get along surprisingly well for you know one being the main character of his game and supposed "heroes" of the game  and the other is well the bad guy. They both like punching stuff and hav a give each other a high five or fist bump while walking by each other so like buddys

Felix:

Him and Felix are more like 

Felix: look at this cool thin-

Scrap: HOLLY CARP CHECK THAT OUT

Like literally one of the doodle sketches was Scrapper leapfrogging over felix to look at a new plugged in game 

So he kinda is an annoying brat towards felix but always makes it in good fun like he's messing around with him with never an intent to hurt his feelings (even when he goes too far and accidentally does)

Vanelopie:

So now we got Vanelopie

There's actually this running joke sorta where scrapper really likes bright colors becus how I imagine his game has a very limited color palette except him for aesthetically pleasing reasons

So he'd actually stay away from brightly colored areas out of comfort before becoming more enthralled in other colors hens his fixation with casualty visiting sugar rush when he's bored 

You may think oh then he must have met Vanellope while visiting 

Well actually no he bye dumb luck he never met her until after the events of the first movie 

So there knowing each other isn't really that strong yet 

But because of him and ralph eventually becoming friends he grew a liking to the spunky little girl calling her shortstack all the time (despite him being a similar height) and or squirt

In response Vanellope calls him oled man

Calhoun:

 Calhoun thinks he's like 12

He is not he's like 30-40 Like lectures him on his fighting form Thinks he's like inexperienced Finds him endearing if a little overbearing Finds his high energy useful in certain situations but exhausting at other times Is unsure...which fighting game he originates from Then bonding through duty or honor or avenging a loved one.

Sour bill (because I want more interactions and im hiperfixsaiting):

Scraper:Yoooooo a fellow rubber ball

Sour bill:what?

 Ima say this shit now they would drink tea together because yes Scrapper doesn't like coffee he drinks tea

Sonic (because I can):

Mf cameos in scrappers game in later levels for no reason just because funny

It's like the meme

Scrapper: sonic? What are you doing here?

Sonic in scrapper's game: waiting for them to play Gangdemstyle 

Ok so I forgot to put this in I was ryly hoped to post this but thanks to my friend @im-not-important fore spell correcting and helping come up with ideas(also did some of the Blu doodles in the Wight board drawings)

[sparklingmineraltequila]

American Wasteland

Note: I don't think Rust is a big fan of getting head cause I think that it's much more aligned to Marty's character. However, I think it fits all too well with Crash era Rust so this is me trying to reconcile the two. I also don't think my Philosophy teacher would be too overjoyed knowing I'm using what she taught me to write foreplay but at least it stuck.

Warnings: 18+, violence, drugs, alcohol, reference to sex work, implied past abuse, rough sex both past and present

There are a lot of ways that you can get fucked up by a liquor bottle. Rust knows this. But mainly, there are two ways. The first is the classic act of getting drunk out of your mind: the type of drunk that can only end in violence. Rust doesn't always need to gulp down a bottle of Jameson, straight and hard, to feel the acrid burn of repulsion and vomit in his stomach. Sometimes, the slow sipping of a 12 pack of Bud or Lone Star is preferred on days where he's more lucid, has more of that sickening desire to punish himself with Sofia's face and blood and gurgling cough. Tearing that beer can and slicing at his skin might be a more effective, visceral act of punishment, but it's too quick. No, he brought her into this meat grinder of a world, he should feel that same machinery gnashing away at his being before he is allowed to slide into the stagnation that the piss warm beer allows him. Then, you have the far more crude way to fuck someone up; the jagged edge of smashed glass will do that just fine. Quick, cuts easy into the supple flesh of the cheek and makes a hell of a show. As he glances over the bottles of whiskey, Cassandra lets out a low whistle,

'Johnnie Walker Blue Label. This was the shit my dad used to blow rent on. You'd think for such a piece of shit loser, the man would've had cheaper taste,' and Rust can see a faint lacquer in her eyes, the impenetrable kind making her relive those scenes of her slurring daddy with a heavy set jaw and even heavier hands, the musk of her own fetid sweat mixed with talcum powder on her t-shirt in a pathetic, 8 year old's attempt to get the smell out, the hum of a refrigerator while a little girl cries at the kitchen table cause she doesn't get to feel safe around daddy. Hard to reconcile that image with the 20 year old in a white cotton sundress that ends too soon and is cut too low; the blueish lighting giving her skin a cool sheen. Cassandra puts the bottle back and walks over to where Rust is slotting his usual Jameson under his arm as he picks up a second bottle. From his crouching position, he can see the delicate purple hue on her thighs, arranged in the pattern of his fingerprints. A sickening sense of pride settles itself next to the self-disgust in Rust's gut at the marks and the satisfaction with which Cassandra is looking at them.

'Roughed you up pretty good, huh?' Rust says, gruffly. Cassandra glances over a delicate shoulder from where she's inspecting the Bourbon shelf,

'They hurt.'

'Bullshit, baby. You think I didn't see you were tracin' 'em in the truck, on the way here.'

'Doesn't mean they don't hurt.'

'True,' Rust stands to his full height, 'but d'you know what it does mean?'

'What?' she turns to face him.

He walks over to her, giving her cheek a couple, little pats his fingers, 'That you liked it.' Cassandra gives a derisive scoff but not one that can hide that glint in her eye: relief. Not just that Rust has indulged her infatuation, fucking her into the mattress until she forgot how to say 'Crash', but the protection that those bruises afford; the bruises of a young girl turned woman, bruises who's shade of blue show that the man who gave them is a tough son of a bitch.

'I hate it when you do that,' Cassandra states, somewhat petulantly.

'Do what? Point out that you can't do one over me?'

'No,' she says, narrowing her eyes, 'When you slap me around like that. I feel dumb.'

'That ain't slappin' around, trust me. And you ain't dumb, that's for sure, Cass,' Rust huffs, looping the plastic casing of a Lone Star six-pack through his fingers, 'But you shouldn't look to me to affirm that for you.'

'I don't need you to affirm shit for me.'

'Good, cause I ain't got the fuckin' time or will for that, too. Pick up your head, Cassandra. Stop fuckin' poutin',' Rust's tone is sharp. Cassandra rolls her eyes but she struts behind him, following him to the cashier. As Rust waits in line behind some trucker, Cassandra scuffs her boots against the floor, pulling her gum taught over her tongue until to snaps.

'You snap your gum,' Rust states. Cassandra looks up at him from where she was analysing the snake skin on the point of her boot,

'Huh?'

'You don't blow bubbles, you snap your gum.'

'I ain't gonna give the men 'round here the whole school girl routine. Fuck that,' she scowls. The corner of Rust's mouth twitches slightly at her sharpness; that guile about her never fails to dump buckets of ice cold water over his perception. His smart, smart girl, knowing that a quick, hard fix of money isn't shit next to the promise of survival that grit can give. Leave the milk boxes and cotton socks to the little girls, you're a woman now. It takes a certain intelligence to be sexy, to bear the soft, supple skin of ass, tits and thigh in a delicate veil of lace, and to still keep the wolves at an arm's length. Give them the scent of your blood, hot and throbbing, let them believe that the practiced gasps and rolling neck are just for them, but don't let them tear your skin. The wolves are ravenous in this wasteland, they get a taste for blood and they will gut you from the inside out.

Rust pays, ignoring the cashier's mild look of disapproval or envy at how Cassandra comes to stand next to him. She watches as the bottles get bagged up and Rust turns to leave. She gestures to him as they walk out, her boots clacking on the baked asphalt like one of those old, clunking clocks,

'Let me carry one.'

Rust barely spares her a glance, 'You're underaged. Shouldn't be drinking.' That almost makes her laugh,

'You're fucking kidding, right? I'm a stripper. You remember that, Crash?'

'You're also in college. Need to stay sharp, baby.'

'It's a Friday,' her tone dry, 'Plus, you're always offering me beers.'

'No,' Rust corrects, 'You take my beers and I let you get away with it.'

Cassandra rolls her eyes as they climb into their respective sides of his truck and Rust would be lying if he didn't feel the twist in his stomach at the practiced ease of the act, the facility of their place in the other's space. Rust starts the ignition,

'Stop rollin' those eyes at me.'

'Fuck off, Crash,' she retorts, only slightly annoyed and Rust just hums,

'You're real fuckin' cocky for someone who's in my hands about how many times they get to come, tonight.'

Cassandra almost opens her mouth before clamping it shut, making a big show out of rolling down the window. Smart move, baby, Rust thinks. A sentiment that holds up, after he bends her over the sink, bunching her dress over her hips; gripping her hair, forcing her to look at herself in the mirror as she takes him deep and hard. What Cassandra doesn't know is that the mirror is almost more for Rust's reflection than it is for hers. Forcing himself to look into his own glacial blue eyes, this way he can't indulge in the complete bliss of Cassandra's wet, tightness. No, if he's going to allow himself this then he's going to be fucking straight about it: he's a coked up, undercover narco currently using some vulnerable 20 year old girl who has no clue who he actually is. Rust wishes that the reason he's fucking her so hard, scraping his nails on her scalp, is that he hates her, sees her like one of the hookers that the Iron Crusaders systematically violate; it would make this shit a lot easier. But he doesn't and it's not. Rust is past indulging delusions for the sake of comfort. It was Nietzsche's idea, if he can remember correctly: embrace the pure fucking horror of eternal return, this ontological prison we're all stuck in, and you might finally find some enlightenment amongst the squalor.

'Put your leg up. Let me see those bruises,' he grits out, hand clamping onto her thigh in an attempt to lift to up.

'No-fuck-I won't be able to hold it up,' Cassandra stammers out, knuckles white as a scar on the ceramic rim of the sink out of exertion of holding herself in place when Rust shoves her forward with a particularly brutal thrust of his hips.

'Tsk, wrong answer, baby,' Rust says, shoving her leg up and bending it at the knee so that it rests in the sink bowl. The new position opens her up, not only showing the patterns of bruising on her inner thighs but the glistening wetness of her seam as he pushes into her again. The mixture of the two is a lurid depiction of what sex is around here; its inextricable connection to violence. Like meat and salt. The drop of thin, clear arousal now running down Cassandra's leg, the cracked scabs on his knuckles from a bar fight, the clunking rumble of the AC boxes outside the trailer: blood, sex and heat. Rust reaches a hand down and gathers the drop of wetness on his fingers, he brings it to his mouth and tastes it. Cassandra looks like she wants to cry as he catches her eye in the mirror.

'What's that face for, baby? Ain't never had a man taste you before?' Rust's voice thick from exertion and desire, her tartness covering his tongue.

'That's a really fucking intimate thing to do,' she says and poor baby sounds like she might either sob or come.

'No, it ain't, Rust lands a heavy slap on the bruises, as if to reprimand her for the implication, 'It's how a man fucks a woman.'

'So, I'm a woman to you now?'

'I don't fuck little girls, so yeah,' Rust says, his hand in her hair coming down to grip her throat. That's the one small mercy of innocence, Rust thinks, it can only be corrupted once. He yanks her head up by the chin,

'Look at yourself real good, Cass. This what you want? Some doped up biker with a load on, fucking you, leaving you all roughed up-Look at me, Cassandra,' he snarls, his tone harsh to conceal the begging behind it,

'Yes! Fuck, yes I do!,' she cries out, her adamance mixed with the first tremors of her impending orgasm. Rust lets out a growl, something deep and atavistic, as he yanks up her knee to bend her leg around his hips, now obscenely deep. Cassandra is now halfway slumped against the skin, the cold metal of the tap pressing into her sternum. This shit is good, too good, like the cool bliss of the moment the heroin hits your bloodstream and everything feels fucking pure. He pulls out as her feels her begin to pulsate around him and she cries out. Good, Rust thinks, wanting to punish her for being so goddamn complacent, Get used to crying if you want to fuck around with this shit, baby. He manhandles her to her knees as the muscle in his jaw twitches at what he's about to say to her,

'You want it that bad? Show me,' Rust deadpans, hand twisting into the dark mass of Cassandra's hair. She looks up at him and has the fucking audacity to arch her eyebrow at him before she takes him into her mouth, gagging slightly. Rust has never really seen the appeal of getting head, once he moved past the initial adolescent fascination. It makes him feel out of control, undisciplined, subject to his body's pure evolutionary need to procreate. It's one of the most self-serving, vapid states you can be in, mouth wide open, dumbstruck by ecstasy, unable to form of coherent thought except to mindlessly shove yourself further into the other person who probably isn't enjoying it anywhere near as much as you. Yeah, that's what Rust hates about the whole act, the mindlessness of it. But, fuck, his body isn't even his anymore, belonging to some fucking DEA's office to dope up and regurgitate whatever information they need to peddle their case further, without ever getting their hands dirty or doing some real fucking work. So, he may as well abandon himself to the weakness of his innate biological need.

Cassandra tries to give herself some respite by licking a long stripe up his length but Rust is having none of it: he presses her down so that her nose flattens against his pubic bone making her gag again and harder, shoulders convulsing too.

'Come on, baby,' Rust croons cruelly, using his spare hand to light a cigarette, 'Thought you said you could take it.' Cassandra briefly takes her hand off of the back of his thigh to give him the middle finger, quickly reinstating it as Rust presses as hand to the back of her skull and thrusts harder,

'Keep that shit up and I'll make you gag on your own finger, next.'

A few more chokes and constrictions of Cassandra's throat, and Rust is coming hot and heavy down it. He doesn't let her catch her breath,

'Get up,' he says, fastening his belt with his cigarette still hanging from his mouth. Cassandra just slumps against the bathroom floor, held up half by a trembling arm and half by leaning against Rust's leg. She glances up, hearing the clink of his belt,

'You're getting dressed?' a slight desperation to her voice.

'No points for deduction, Cass.'

'No, no, wait-,' she says, clambering up, or at least trying to, on shaky legs, 'Crash, Crash, I didn't come. Please-'

'What did I tell you about you bein' grown? Grown women fix their own messes,' Rust says, face and tone stoic as he casts to the slick that has dripped down from the apex of Cassandra's thighs onto the floor just under her, her smeared lip gloss, her nipples hard and visible through the thin cotton of her dress. He gives her hair a harsh ruffle before walking out the bathroom. As he grabs the Jameson bottles and beer, he stops in front of the trailer's door calling out behind him,

'Get to work, Cassandra.'

[kpop---scenarios]

12. Felix and 3 chan please i hope this is right I don’t ask a lot still new to this.

Thank you for your work truly you are truly brilliant

AGSKSGS you're gonna make me cry 😭 normally it's 1 or 2 prompts with one idol, but it's okay!! I'll do both 😘

**

"I swear to god Y/N." Felix pants. "It was just a kiss! Just one kiss...it meant nothing! I-I was so confused... about you, about me...us...she was there..." He trails off. He reaches out for you, trying to grab your hand, arm, anything, just to feel you. But you back away from him.

"Don't." You whisper. "I told you I was pregnant, and you go and kiss the one person you told me not to worry about." You cry. You couldn't control them even if you wanted to. Your body shook with the feeling of just pure betrayal and heartbreak from the one person you least expected it from. "How am I supposed to look at you... trust you after this?"

"You can trust me! It was a lapse in judgment. That's it. You can always trust me. I promise."

"No." You scoff. "I don't...I don't think I can trust you again."

**

"This is fucking it, Y/N. We're done." Chan yells, slamming his fist down on the table. You had just come home from work, and had no idea what was happening.

"What?" You ask. "Chan, what the fuck?" You ask, trying to walk towards him, but he backed away, his hands up to block you. "What is going on?"

"Don't play dumb. We both know what the fuck you did. I can't believe I fell for you. Fuck!" He yells. "Pack your shit and get out!"

Tears fall down your cheeks as you wrack your brain trying to think of what you could have possibly done for this to be happening but nothing was coming to mind.

"I'm not going anywhere. I didn't do anything! Just talk to me!" You beg.

"I'm not talking to you. Just get out." He says, leaving out the front door, slamming the door behind him.

You drop to your knees, sobbing. "I still don't understand what I did wrong."

[howlsofter]

Nextdoor ii.

John Wick moved in last year but you’re just home for the summer. He hires you to dog sit for him while he’s on business trips but it doesn’t take long til you’re pushing the limits of your “professional” relationship. Part 2, first here. John can’t keep ignoring your desperation for him, especially not after this.

Word: 2.2k

Tags/warnings: weed, drinking, smoking, voyourism, masturbation, no sex yet but def nsfw

John ignores me. Really I just think he’s busy working, he’s back on his usual schedule. I’ve heard him walk outside with daisy, talking to someone on the phone looking serious. He doesn’t ever glance my way from where I peak at him from my second story window. I wonder if he can feel my eyes. He doesn’t act like it, but John likes to play it cool.

My room is small, and it’s mostly items from before college. All my dorm stuff is packed up in boxes. My bedsheets are different and my room is more normal, since guests are the only ones who get any use of it besides me. I don’t mind, I don’t want to feel like I’m in my exact childhood bedroom.

I feel stupidly needy for his attention, getting all my shit out to go to the back porch. I don’t preroll myself one this time, bringing all my items and setting up my phone flashlight so I can see.

I don’t put on anything to drown out my thoughts, biting my lip as the metal grinder softly clinks. I dumb the herb out onto the small tray I’d brought, carefully pinching the end of my paper.

It’s not that noticeable at first, the burning smell of nicotine. It’s so out of place in our suburban neighborhood, the smell of cigarettes are saved for college. Imprinted in my mind for when I’m hazily stumbling onto the back porch of some fraternity, easily bumming a cigarette from the nearest person perched against the wall.

It’s John, I know it without checking. That empty ash tray on his porch. In all my nights out here I had never caught him smoking. I tsk to myself like he’s my kid.

I roll my joint hurriedly, scared he might finish before me. When it’s mostly done and I don’t think any crumblies will blow into the wind, I push myself up. The grass is soft underneath my socks, it makes a quiet crunching sound I try desperately to mumble. Up against our wood fence, I grab the taller metal post that stand between the wood panels. Hoisting myself up how I used to when I was young so that I could peak out into John’s yard.

Sure enough he’s sat, white button up tucked into his loose slacks. He’d ditches his belt and tie, the top mostly undone and a cigarette perched between those strong fingers.

“Smoking kills, you know,” I try not to yell, my normal talking voice carrying enough in the silent neighborhood for John to peer over to me. He looked shocked, like he’s 12 and I’m a police officer.

Once he realizes it’s me he relaxes back, flicking the ash off the tip. He reaches out to his glass in front of him, the amber liquid still just above the ice. He tries to move it from my view, turning his head away in a chuckle.

“And what are you about to do?” He throws back, I readjust my hand. It’s getting sweaty against the metal, my foot slips from the thin ledge I’m balancing on but my hold is firm.

“…it’s a different kind of smoking.” I can’t see but I feel John roll his eyes. Already caught, he takes another drag and gestures for me to join him. I lower myself from the fence, considering.

I finish up my joint and pack my shit, dumping it by our front porch before heading out the side gate into John’s.

He’s almost done with his cigarette, not bothering to sit forward when I join him at the table. He blows the smoke away from me, ashing it against into the tray in front of him and taking another small swig from his drink.

“I didn’t know you smoked,” I light mine up, watching him stare into his cup.

“On occasion. I’m not a smoker.” He says it while reaching for another. I hold the joint out for him and he pauses, shaking his head, “no I’m already… it’s fine for now.” He retrieves the second cigarette and I pass him back his lighter.

“You look like one,” I tease him carefully.

“What else do I look like?” He asks, turning his gaze up to me and tilting his head. I stare at him in silence, suddenly feeling wayyy higher than I thought I was already.

“Like, uh, hmm,” suddenly scared I’d say something insanely offensive, John blinks back to me with real expectations, “a tired business man.”

John actually laughs. He follows it with another sip, trying to shut himself up. “That I am.”

“What do I look like?” I ask him. He focuses in, I’m actually kinda intrigued. This John is different, more casual. Even looser than high John. He has to be drunk.

He seems to bite his tongue, his eyes scanning me like Sherlock deducting clues. “You look… bored, usually. Like you’re waiting for something to happen.”

I take another hit so I don’t have to explain myself. If he knows what he’s talking about he’s onto me. And what would that be, John?

“Trade me,” I hold out the joint so I don’t have to confirm his analysis. He hesitates before passing me his cigarette.

I watch him take a shallow huff and he watches me take a long drag, blowing the heavy smoke from my nose. It coats all my senses just like weed, smells utterly familiar. Maybe this was the key index to John’s scent, the ever fading smell cigarettes. Subtle nodes I wouldn’t have been able to identify prior.

He passed it back in the silence, staring off past the fence.

“I think you’re waiting for something too,” I break it, John doesn’t even throw me a glance.

“Waiting for what?” He finishes his drink finally, pushing it away from him. He answers almost bitter, like I had struck something in him.

“Tired is really just another synonym for bored,” I explain, going quieter so he could move on if he wants.

“So what do we do?” He throws it back at me.

I should kiss him now, but he won’t look my way. I carefully nudge his outstretched foot with my sock.

“Continue to wait, I guess,” I shrug, he still doesn’t move, “or do something about it.”

Now he turns, making eye contact with me in the darkness. He takes another drag of his cigarette.

“You’re so…” he begins, burying his face in his hands, “fuck.” A response is better than none, I set the roach against the corner of the tray, not moving my foot away from his.

He sits up straight, putting his cigarette out beside the joint and peering back at me. He had reset, suddenly looking like a professional in the remnants of his suit.

“So you’re just offering yourself up to me, like that?” He asks, resting his elbows against the table and I’m in the second round of interviews.

“Well- no, I was just saying.” I stammer, loosing all the courage I’d mustered up the past thirty minutes.

He leans forward slightly, my eyes dip to his lips, “really? You’re not just waiting on me?”

That’s exactly what I’ve been doing. Word for word. But hearing it come directly from him has me out of commission. I blush, turning my face away.

God himself set this moment up for me, but I’m cracking under the pressure.

“Why don’t you do something about it?” I ask weak, the words almost getting lost in my throat. John is still looking at me when I manage to turn, blinking back in thought.

He readjusts in his chair, turning to me more fully. I want to sit in his lap so badly, let him cradle me. I can tell he feels blurry, probably a little crossed. He rubs his palms against his clothes thighs, biting his lip.

“It’s not that easy,” is all he can say. I am stoned, sliding my heavy arm over to touch him where his hands had just ghosted over his thigh. He breathes in sharply, I can see him debating with himself.

“Why?” I coo, trying to lure him into me. John. John John John, I’m begging him in my mind, dragging him closer to me. He doesn’t move in his seat. He already knows where I stand, there’s no point in my shame now.

John takes my hand off him him, pulling me this time. I follow his directions promptly, pulling my chair up closer so I could kiss John with ease. He meets me halfway lazily, pressing firm lips against my soft open mouth. He tastes like whiskey and cigarettes. I hate whiskey with a passion but on John’s tongue it’s intoxicating. He lets me push up into his lap, tilting his head up and to the side as I climb there. I don’t straddle him, sitting sideways and keeping my legs up on my own chair. He wraps his long arms around my waist, holding me loosely.

I moan into the kiss, tilting my head slowly and making John chase me. We stay like that for awhile, it feels too nice to stop. I run my fingers along the line from John’s ear down his neck, he tilts to let me into the sensitive space there.

Trying to deepen it is useless, John cuts me off when I lick inside his mouth. He turns his head away, catching his breath.

He excused himself in the next one, but not before requesting I watch Daisy in a few days while he’s gone for the weekend.

I fucking hate him. His sudden coolness and casual glances to my window when he comes home from work. He sends me a thank you the day I go over to check on Daisy and I have to stop myself from sending him a Fuck you back.

I come over to check on her and let her out, keeping an eye on the camera in the living room.

I’ve reran our conversation through my mind a hundred times over, trying to figure out what I’m doing wrong. No man has ever expressed interest in me and not wanted to fuck immediately after.

Maybe I haven’t been waiting on John, but instead a challenge. Stubborn John Wick giving me enough confidence to strut in his house in my bikini, all my other items for the night tucked away in my tote bag. It’s 7pm when I decide to go settle in over there, telling my mom I love her before rushing off.

He’s not checking the cameras when I’m first there, dumping my belongings on the kitchen counter as usual.

He doesn’t check until that evening. took a quick shower and changed into my tank top and sweatpants, climbing down the stairs carefully to the living room. He’d sat in that spot on our movie night, the corner of the couch the camera had the perfect view of. I grab the remote and switch on HBO, lounging back as I try to find what to watch. I restart the Last of Us.

I try to lounge casual but sexy, which just results in me splayed out, leaning up against the arm rest. I let my hand rest in my sweatpants, pressed right up between my thighs warm and comfy. Halfway into the first episode the light of the camera flicks on.

I try not to panic, it was part of my plan, but now I’m embarrassed. I wait, frozen there, trying not to look directly at the camera, seeing if he’s going to click out.

When the light stays on for a solid few seconds I start to move. I carefully lift my hips, pushing my sweatpants down to my thighs. I expose my black underwear the the camera, looking up to see if he’s still watching. The light is unwavering.

My heart begins to race as I lean back, continuing to look through the camera to him. I run my hand along them tantalizing, pulling my lower lip between my teeth. Just the pressure feels good. I slide my middle finger passed the material, dipping into my unacknowledged heat.

The lights still on.

I slowly fuck myself with one finger, bending back against the arm of the chair. I angle up the best I can, grinding against the single digit. I peek once in awhile, reaching my other hand forward to touch my clit. Both the feelings the repetitive drum of John echoing in my brain got me close quickly. Already shaking and stuttering over myself I forget about the whole goal.

I cum hard, whining as my hips stir. I slowly pull my fingers out, wiping them off on my sweatpants and slumping back. I breathe shakily before I’m shocked awake, remembering where I am.

That stupid red fucking light flicks off the second I look back up to it.

I can excuse my insane actions with weed. To myself anyways. Maybe cumming on his couch isn’t the right path of action after feeling mildly rejected, but it sure made me feel better. I sleep in the guest room and wash the sheets in the morning before fleeing back to my own home. John venmoes me $200 for the weekend without saying else.

[wastelandlovingscenarios]

undeniable | porter gage x female! sole survivor

a/n: am i finally back on my bullshit, uploading on a random sunday night? this is different from what i usually write, but hey! im definitely writing something. im too tired to revise or edit this bc its 12 AM, so ill look it over in the morning. just thought i'd post something silly.

♡ based off a modern au where gage and the sole survivor are childhood bestfriends in another life.

For as long as Gage can remember, she’s been a burden. Being nearly five years older than her and her guardian -- or her best friend, as she likes to call him -- he’s always felt inclined to watch over her. He doesn’t know why, he knows he doesn't necessarily need to, but the thought of abandoning her feels wrong. So he tries to find reasons as to why -- was it because they both grew up in terrible conditions together and only had each other? Or was it because he knew the moment he let her dumbass go into the real world alone, she’d somehow get herself killed? 

He shakes his head. Finding a reason was nothing but a waste of time, his mind overworking itself more than it already was. He dumbs it down to simply getting used to the routine of caring for her since they were children. If he fucks up his schedule now, he’d have to go through the trouble of rearranging everything around once again and readjust to his new lifestyle. 

‘Yeah,’ he thinks to himself, unlocking his apartment door, twisting the knob, ‘It’ll be nothing but fucking trouble.’ 

Once he pushes the door open, his boots thumping against the tiled floor of his apartment, he sees her sitting on the couch, distracted by the show playing on the television. His eyes darted over to the coffee table in front of her, papers and open textbooks strewn across the poor thing, obviously untouched and just displayed prettily to mimic the idea that she was being productive. 

With a low grumble, he tosses his bag on the counter nearby and takes off his boots before grabbing the remote lying on the couch. She’s so invested in her little show that she barely even notices him walking in with a scowl and an annoyed sigh. Sole jumps when the television shuts off suddenly, a gasp leaving her lips before turning her head to the side. 

“Hey, I was watching!” she whines, already rising from the couch to pick another fight with him. He doesn’t show any reaction and instead, crosses his arms with an unimpressed expression while he holds the remote hostage. 

She tries her best to grab it from his hand but he rolls his eyes, gently pushing her back down onto the couch. 

“Quit watchin’ and start studyin’. Yer not gonna get shit done like this.” 

She huffs angrily, her eyes narrowing at him, “Gage, a little break wouldn’t hurt every once in a while.” 

“And what have you accomplished since I left for work this afternoon?” 

Sole swallows nervously, her mouth going dry at his questions as she opens and closes it, trying her best to stand her ground. He raises a brow, giving her a chance to respond and redeem herself, but he already knows. She was a fool for thinking she could get away with such a lie, knowing that Gage knew her better than anyone else.

“Thought so,” he stuffed the remote in the back of his pocket, “Now be a good girl and finish yer damn work. I’m not paying yer tuition for you to fuck around.” 

Sole groans but listens obediently, pulling the coffee table closer to her. She grabs her laptop and unlocks it, opening her notes before reaching over to snatch one of her textbooks. 

“I don’t understand why you’re on my ass about my studies so much, Gage,” she complains, highlighting something in her book a bit roughly, “You didn't even finish high school, so why does it even matter?” 

He doesn’t spare her much of an answer, walking over to the kitchen to find something to cook for them, “Exactly my point. You wanna be better than me.”  

“But you make so much money, you’re able to provide for both of us!” she throws her hands in the air, desperately trying to prove a point to her stubborn roommate, who seemed to be firm on his words.

“That’s only because I got connections. Now shut your mouth and study.” 

He doesn’t find much in the fridge nor the cabinets, silently setting a reminder in his mind to do a grocery run first thing tomorrow before work. Eventually, he decides to heat up some leftovers they had for lunch and cut up some fruit for her to snack on while she did her work. It’s shit, he knows, but it’ll do till tomorrow. 

He makes his way back to the living room, plopping on the couch next to her and setting the food on the coffee table, maintaining a good distance between their dinner and her work. The last thing he wanted was to spill anything on her laptop and notes -- it would only give her another reason not to be productive. 

He doesn’t say much, but his eyes flicker over to her for a moment, a small smile on his face at the sight of her seemingly focused on her work now, a sense of satisfaction overcoming him. Gage leans back on the couch, pulling his phone out to distract himself while he kept her company in the living room. He takes a few bites of his portion of the leftovers, glancing at Sole here and there to ensure she was still on track. 

It’s a peaceful few minutes, he can’t recall how long, as they both sit in silence, her music playing softly in the background to fill up the white noise. Suddenly, he hears a sigh, sounding a bit defeated, and his eyes set on her sulking figure. 

“Gage, I know that you want the best for me, but I’m nearly twenty-three and you still treat me like a kid.” he stares at her, not showing any reaction but notices how she refused to make eye contact with him, her eyes glued to the screen of her laptop. 

When she doesn’t get a response, she closes her eyes before turning her body towards him, her expression serious, but he can see right through her. She’s pleading, but not in an annoying bratty way like she usually does, so he decides to listen to her troubles. 

She scoots closer to him and he watches, his phone long forgotten in his hand, “I’m really grateful for you and all that, but you need to trust that I can do well in school and balance my time. You can’t take care of me forever.” 

Instead of getting a response like she’d hope for, she was met with the usual silence he often provided her when she tried to set her boundaries. With an irate expression, she turned back to her laptop, her face flushed in embarrassment, feeling like her words vanished into thin air. 

She should’ve known better than to talk to Gage — he was a man of few words and she didn’t know why she expected him to at least say something to show that he at least cared about her feelings one way or the other.

Before she could continue studying to hide her embarrassment and anger, she hears his voice and freezes. 

“I know.” his voice is gravelly, a bit of exhaustion mixed into it, and her head shoots to him, a bit stunned at his broken silence. Her eyes are wide, body paralyzed at the sudden response. There’s a slight flush on his face but she convinces herself it’s the lighting. 

Definitely. 

He knows she’s waiting for more than just that and he sighs, crossing his arms as he makes eye contact with her the best he can without losing his shit, “Just want you to have a good future. Want you to live a better life than what I’m giving you right now before I send you off.” 

Suddenly, she’s overcome with guilt and she immediately leans over to him, her hands finding his as she cuts him off, “No, that’s not what I meant!”

With another breath, she composes herself before speaking. 

“Gage, you’ve given me everything I’ve wanted and needed, the last thing I’ll ever do is criticize your care for me. I don’t plan on leaving your side, even when I get a better life.” 

His heart twinges and his feelings for her resurface, but he pushes it down. 

She pulls on the sleeves of his hoodie, playing with the fabric with her fingers, “I just want you to trust me more. I know I’ve been slacking a bit, but I’d never fail school, especially when I know you’re working hard to provide for both of us and paying for my tuition. I’d never do that to you.”

“Wouldn’t say I’m working hard,” he downplays it, not wanting her to fret about such a miniscule matter. 

She groans, “You work twelve hour shifts everyday. Sometimes fourteen!”

He shrugs nonchalantly and Sole pouts at his stubbornness, smacking his arm with annoyance. Gage bites back a smirk, amused by her behavior and catches her wrist midair, her eyes rolling. Instead of providing her with a response, he digs in his pocket and hands her the remote to the TV and her eyes light up, a smile forming on her pretty face. His heart aches at the sight. It was such a small action but it was more than enough to validate her feelings. 

“Thank you, you’re the best!” she jumped over, throwing her arms around his neck as she embraced him tightly. 

His face flushed heavily and tried to seem annoyed to cover it up but the stutter in his voice and the tenseness of his shoulders gave it away. Gage pushed her away with his hand as he groaned quietly, “I get it, don’t need to be so damn happy about it.” 

However, she pecked his cheek and he froze instantly, his body paralyzed and his voice raising in embarrassment, “Q-Quit it!”

She giggles and doesn’t take much offense to his words, knowing that he was nothing but a big softie for her. As she released him, she smiled at him happily once more before turning to the TV and putting her show back on. 

Gage rubbed the spot where she kissed, his face a deep red as he tried to regain his composure. Suddenly, he pushes down the real reason of why he refused to leave her side for the millionth time, reminding himself that there were several other possibilities other than that. 

‘What a damn burden,’ he thinks to himself, desperately trying to fight back his feelings for her, his eyes glued to her gleeful form next to him. 

Suddenly, her kiss lingered on his skin a little too long, the feeling of her arms around him marking his skin, and he’s left absolutely horrified, realizing that he could no longer convince himself otherwise. 

Maybe accepting it was better than constantly running and Gage thinks it over for a moment but ultimately shakes his head, wanting to do anything but that. 

‘Just a stupid thought. Some stupid fucking feelings,’ he settles for that answer but knows deep down that he’s already lost the battle, his heart hammering in his chest. 

[chickenoptyrx]

You do so right by z Broly, you understand his potential. Your au with him and Trunks is a delight

Glad we all appreciate my blatant misrepresentation of the character 😌 im partly joking but man fr, 12 year old me would hate that instead of him bein a badass edgy monster, I draw him as.. *checks notes* .. an immature loser with bad coping mechanisms uwu

Ok but in true ask tradition! :U im hijacking this ask to talk about a dumb theory thats been rolling around in my head for like 2 years now: android 16 and broly similarities:

Ok so. If you aren't aware. The android arc of dragon ball was originally going to focus on the androids 19 & 20 and trunks even names them specifically

But Toriyamas former editor, Kazuhiko Torishima, didn't like them as the main antagonists and so Toriyama changed it to focus on 17 & 18 as the bad guys and introduced 16 as a sort of mystery

Now. This gets almost completely dropped once that same former editor ALSO doesn't like these androids and cell becomes the main villian for the arc (yeah yeah, the bomb thing is technically *there*, but its so inconsequential most people forget its even a thing :T )

So. Idk exactly when movie 8 went into production, but we know Brolys LSSJ form was inspired by trunks SSJ grade3 form that appears several chapters after cell has been introduced and the androids have become power-up fodder, so im gonna argue its safe to say the decision to move away from their story had been made

(side tangent that I find absolutely hilarious btw- despite gokus commentary in the HTC, SSJ grade 3 was the strongest form of ssj we saw at this point, so its pretty appropriate to use it as the basis of the strongest scariest ssj form.... rrriiiiiiiiggght up until toriyama introduced SSJ2 on Feb 2, 1993- near exactly 1 month before the first Broly movie hit theaters. Completely undermined what, up til then, looked like a trend in stronger form = bigger and beefier right as the big beefy strongest guy ever movie came out 🤣 absolutely love it!)

So anyways. The movies overall also tend to have varying degrees of similarities with recent arcs in the show and Toriyama, while not overly involved, would give the studio designs and story notes. And. Idk. Yall can tell me im reaching if ya want, but: A guy who's made into a weapon by his father who's on a quest for revenge and has this conflicting view of his son as both someone he feels he failed to protect, someone he cares about, but also as a tool for that revenge, and someone who's destructive power hes become deeply afraid of.. now where have we seen somethin like that 🤔 may be an extra reach but I also think its neat that despite their different face shape, Toriyamas gave em the same expression

Lol they're also both just ridiculously tall bastards. Like for no gd reason. And yeah, to me atleast, it explains why hating goku specifically gets shoehorned into brolys backstory (listen I can absolutely do the mental gymnastics to make it make sense! I'm fine with it! Its fine! I actually like it! ... but it IS a dumb shoehorned plot point! Both things can be true D:< ) look just lookit these tall ass shits

Anyway. My last note is just this statement from Toriyama about 16 and Gero. The way gero is presented is really in line with how I see Paragus as this tragic failure of a father- honestly caring about his kid, but letting grief and revenge drive him into conflicting corners where he wants revenge FOR the life denied his son, but also actively shaping his son into such a terrifying weapon that ultimately hed rather his kid just never be conscious cause thats the 'only way to keep them safe'

“Dr. Gero’s son who died young a long time ago served as the visual model for Android 16. He was a high-ranking soldier for the Red Ribbon Army but was shot down by the enemy. Dr. Gero reserved special feelings for 16 as “his son,” and although he equipped 16 with immense power and a frightening destructive device, he didn’t want to see him be defeated on the battlefield and thus programmed him to have a gentle personality. 16 was consequently considered a failed creation.” The smaller caption below Toriyama’s quote reads: “Was the reason Dr. Gero didn’t want to activate 16 perhaps because of his parental love to not see him destroyed?”

[ravenmichaelisstuff]

"Better late than never" Part 12

Ghost gets a cold <3

Ghost got sent on a mission to Russia, it was supposed to be a quick job for Ghost and in theory, it was. He entered the hostile base situated on the northern side of the country, retrieved the documents Laswell needed and escaped unnoticed. The problem was that after he got to the safe “house” which most people would rather call a glorified shed in the middle of a forest, a goddamn blizzard began. 

So the chopper that was supposed to take him back to the base couldn’t land. Even Nikolai didn’t want to risk flying in that weather, so Ghost ended up stranded, freezing his ass off in that forsaken shack for three days until the storm passed and the chopper could land safely.

Not one day after he got back to base he was already feeling under the weather. The first thing Price asked him after he came back was if he wants to take a few free days. Of course, Ghost declined thinking he can power through it. Yet, he was feeling worse and worse with every passing hour and now he was miserable. He woke up with a stuffed nose, and a splitting headache while also sweating like he run a freaking marathon.

But did he go to Price to request a free day? Still no, he instead proceeded to get ready for training with Soap, ignoring the fact that he almost lost balance while putting his sweatpants on. He missed Soap even if he was gone only for a few days, especially since something shifted between them recently. He looked forward to that training and no flu was going to stop him.

He walked his way to the gym. Soap waited for him in the changing room already stretching, bending over and making his t-shirt ride up a bit. Ghost told himself that his heart beat fast only because he wasn’t feeling well.

“Lt! Ready for our workout?” Soap perked up when he noticed Ghost’s looming presence. “Although I must say, working with Gaz, Alex and Farah for those couple of days was a pleasant change.”

“What do you mean by that?” Ghost cringed at how rough his voice was, there is no way Soap didn’t hear how stuffed his nose was.

Soap’s smirk disappeared and he looked at Ghost unimpressed.

“I meant that they know their limits and don’t force themselves to do shit when they don’t feel well.” Soap crossed his arms.

“I don’t know what are you getting at, Sergeant.” He walked past Soap to the lifting bench, to avoid Johnny’s judging glare.

“You are sick, Ghost.” 

“I am fine.” He said, sniffling.

“You are already wet and you didn’t even move a muscle.”

“It’s hot here.”

“Ghost-”

“Will you spot me or do I have to ask someone else?” Completely ignoring Soap, he grabbed the bar.

The sergeant looked at the ceiling, asking whatever looked over them what did he do to deserve falling for someone as stubborn as Ghost. He went to stand behind the bench either way.

“Lik' talking tae a wall…” He muttered while focusing on Ghost’s weight lifting.

After a few lifts Ghost started to realise that it might have been a dumb decision. He had trouble breathing not only thanks to his runny nose but due to the fact that he had to breathe through his mouth, his balaclava got damp and clung to his face.

A cold shiver went through his body and he was ready to give up, and maybe go on a treadmill when he started coughing in a fit. His arms buckled under the weight and it would fall on his throat if Soap didn’t grab it in time.

When his hands were free he sat up straight still coughing.

“For fuck sake, Simon…” Soap patted Ghost’s back. 

“I am fine-” He coughs again.

“Ah kin see how fine ye are.” The Scot touched Ghost's hand, and was swatted right away. “Ye are boiling hot and nae in a good sense at the moment, ye are going to bed.”

“Johnny-”

“It’s not an argument. Ye either go to bed now or ah’m telling Price and he will put you on leave. Tae yer room- now.”

Ghost was a little taken aback at how commanding Soap got, but he also realized that he didn’t mind it at all, maybe he even liked it. Maybe. 

But Soap didn’t need to know that.

“Whatever, I have paper work to do either way.” He huffed and got up to go to his room.

“Sleep- not work, Ghost.”

Ghost only waved his hand and left.

But Soap wan now on a mission.

****

“Hi, maw! I have a wee question…” Soap called his mom, right after he left the gym.

He knew what he could do to get Simon back on his feet at a record speed. “Ah need yer soup recipe, my… friend is not feeling too good.”

“A friend huh? A special friend?.” His mother asked softly.

“A friend.”

“Och, yer something tae ca' me efter sic a lang time, ask fur hings 'n' nae even tell yer mither yer mukkers name!” 

“Mah, I called ye a week ago.”

“....”

He sighed resigned. “His name is Simon and he needs the soup, can ah get the recipe now? Please?”

“Ahh.. that’s a lovely name… Is he Scottish?”

“No…?”

“Well that's a shame… bit a'm sure he is a crakin' lad.”

“Mah.. he is not my boyfriend, don’t get any ideas.” No matter how Soap wished for it, they still were figuring out their… relationship.

“Och, bullshit ye wouldn’t cook juist fur ‘a friend’” 

“MAH!” Soap grabbed the bridge of his nose. “The soup, PLEASE.”

His mother chuckled.

“Ok, ok… let me think.”

****

Of course, the communal kitchen didn’t have all the ingredients his mother listed but he managed to make a good chicken soup non the less.

Making it took him some time, so when he entered Ghost’s room he expected the man to be asleep. It turned out to be wishful thinking, Ghost was sitting slouched at his desk, sniffling over his paperwork. His mask was nowhere to be seen as he had a handful of tissues pressed to his nose.

“First of all you were supposed to be resting, Two- aren’t you putting your balaclava on?”

“Do you want me to put it on?” He looked up at Soap.

Soap smiled softly when he saw Simon- very snooty and wet Simon, but Simon non the less.

“No.”

“Great, because it’s suffocating me.” He said relieved. “What is that?” Ghost pointed at the bowl Soap was carrying, reminding the sergeant how hot the thing is.”

“Ah, shit!” He placed it quickly on the desk, shaking his hand frantically. 

Ghost snickered at that, but it resulted in some coughing.

“Yer medicine.”

“You made that?” Ghost stirred it with the spoon.

Soap nodded.

Ghost tasted the soup and he sunk further into his chair as the stew warmed his body. It was pleasing and rich in flavour. 

“Thank you, Johnny… It’s nice.”

Soap beamed at the prize. “Ah asked my mah for help, she would make it way better. We don’t have everything on base, but I tried.”

Frow the way Ghost was devouring the soup, he didn’t mind at all.

Soap leaned on the desk.

“Will you please lie down after you eat?” Soap asked.

Ghost ran his hands over his face. “Soap, I am fine. I have been through way worse and I have work to do.” 

“Ye are a bambot! Bullets won’t kill ye, you will work yerself to death with that cold!”

“No one would care either way, Johnny.” He signed.

And that made Soap’s blood boil very quickly.

He grabbed his Simon by his shoulders and spun him in the chair so they were face to face.

“Wha-”

“Don’t ye fucking dare tae blether shit like that. Ah would care ‘n’ ah care aboot ye very much every bloody second. Not only me but our whole team, Simon.  We a' care, sae let yersel' be cared for.” Soap’s voice wasn’t leaving any room for argument, accent thickened, his eyes were set on Ghost’s- making sure that the man will understand how much he means to him. “You got it, Si?”

 Ghost looked at Johnny in awe, not able to break eye contact. He blushed not being able to understand what did he to deserve someone like Johnny in his life.

“Yes, sir.” Ghost finally whispered.

Both of them were surprised, by Ghost’s wording. Both blushing, not being able to hide behind a fake bravado or a mask. The eye contact broke.

Soap cleared his throat and stepped away.

“Then please go to bed already. Ah promise ye will feel better.”

Ghost did as he was told. He snuggled under the warm but rough military blankets. He left some space on the bed.

“Stay?” The question was hesitant- like the answer wasn’t obvious.

“Always.”

So Soap lied on top of the blankets, not yet sure how much touching Ghost wants.

He seemed content with that arrangement.

“When I was a kid, I wasn’t allowed to get sick.” The confession was unexpected, even by Simon. It just slipped out, his mind wanting to share with Johnny, explain why he acts the way he does.

Soap turned to look at Ghost. 

“What does that even mean, Si?”

Ghost fidgeted with the edge of the blanket.

“You don’t have to explain-”

“I want to.” He cut in. “Just need to collect my thoughts… When I would get sick as a kid, my father would get furious. Call me useless or weak… He would get… aggressive whenever I would say I wasn’t feeling well.” He could feel Soap shifting beside him. “So I started to just pretend I am fine whenever I felt bad, but mom would always know something was wrong. My old man wouldn’t let her take care of me, saying she is going to make me even more useless. So… yeah.”

There was a silence and Simon began to worry that maybe he had overshared, made Soap uncomfortable.

But it wasn’t the case.

“Can I hug you?” 

Ghost didn't know that he needed it, but now that Soap asked he really wanted that hug.

“Yhm” That was enough for Soap to give him a bone-crushing hug. Ghost grabbed Soap’s shirt and hold on to it, hiding his face in the crook of Johnny’s neck. He took a deep breath of Soap’s cologne and the smell of gunpowder. This was nice.

“I would love to skin your father alive.” Soap squeezed him harder.

It made Ghost giggle.

“Get in line.”

I had SO much fun writing Soap's mom! I hope you all enjoyed it as much as I did <3 Have a great day/night!

[blingblong55]

Match -John 'Soap' MacTavish

Based on a request:

heyyy :D I'm kind new round here but wanted to request something :3 [idk if there's rules to this u don't have to do this] could I plz request masc!reader x dom!soap fluff? like just cute stuff? light teasing but other than that they're just being cute together? idk he's my comfort character anyways love you <3 *mwah* ---- GN!Masc!Reader, fluff, dom!Soap?, established!relationship, teasing? ----

A/N: Honestly, I'll probably come back to this one and rewrite it so if its absolute shit, I'm sorry

You were the scientist on base, Soap was in charge of watching over your section. "So, what's this do?" he points to a beaker with green liquid. "Don't touch it, if dropped it will burn your skin." You said with a neutral tone. "Love, c'mon, yer think I'm that dumb?" he walks over to you. "Is my pretty scientist that worried she is dating a dumb soldier?" his arms wrapped around you. "No," you smile, giving up that neutral face you had previously. "Good, you know, bonnie, if yer were dating another smart guy, yer wouldn't have this much fun," his hands trailing down to your inner thighs.

You walk away, "I'm busy Johnny," you remind him and walk to the cabinet. "Oh, is my little nerd too busy for their boyfriend?" You look at him, "I'm not a nerd." He chuckles, "Let me fix that," he clears his throat, "Is my big dummy too busy for their boyfriend?" he smirks. "Shut up," you laugh lightly.

Your lab coat off as you begin to write on the files. He leans on the door frame, arms crossed as he gives you that teasing look. "You look so cute when you think, my little dummy" he chuckles and inspects his gun, but keeping his gaze on you. "You know why it's bad to tell a chemistry joke to a chemist?" Another joke he'd say. "Because they always react" he begins to laugh hard. You can't help but laugh with him. He walks over to you. "C'mon darling, what'da say we head back home and I teach you how to use me?" Blue puppy eyes on yours. "Johnny, don't start. I'm seriously busy," you brush him off but he can't have that.

He leans over the lab table and watches you, his calloused fingers playing with your lab's badge. "You look so cute in this picture, you'd look cuter if you had even shorter hair." He brushes your hair and smiles. "Even shorter? No way, I know where this is going. I'm not getting a mohawk," you chuckle. "Oh c'mon, imagine how cute we'd look, me with my mohawk and you with yours, we'd be the perfect couple." He smiles and winks.

"Mm, no." He chuckles, "Fine, love." His warm lips on your cheek, "At least let me get some cuddles after this. My little dummy deserves some cuddles for being so smart," he whispers by your ear. It wasn't that he wanted to pull you away from your job but he knew you'd been working on the research for over 12 hours and he knew rest was much needed. He of course had luck, with you and him walking back to your quarters and cuddling. The bed sheets are warm, his arms holding you tight as he brushes your hair.

"You think we can go and annoy the LT?" "Want to go do it now?" You suggest and he grins "I call shots in annoying him at dinner." "Only if I can tell him some terrible joke that makes him mad." "Deal." And so you both go to the common room and annoy Ghost, something that has become usual and fun for both of you. "You two are disgustingly made for each other." Ghost says as he is squished between both of you. "We know," Soap and you say at the same time, Soap giving you a soft kiss on the forehead.

A/N: Not really proud of it but I do hope you like it at least <3

Tags: @queen-ilmaree @sad1st1c-wh0re @stupendousstrangerdreamer

[homiesondaweb]

Anybody order some Jefferson and Aaron angst😁😁😁 CUS I AM DELIVERING IT HOT AND FRESH 🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️

Also give me Aaron and Jefferson background or give me death!

_______________________________

Aaron sat on his motorcycle in the private alley behind his and Jefferson’s new studio apartment since they've moved operations from Harlem to Brooklyn. Snowflakes whisk around in the swift chilly breeze, its just start to stick to the ground as sleet. Aaron's Prowler gear is hidden under his bomber jacket as he checked his messages, refreshing over and over again but the top one still remained that same.

JD: 210, grabbin beer rn. Game should be on channel 12.

Code for: Urgent, meet me at 9pm at the base.

Aaron glances at the glaring 8:57 at the top of his blackberry. Sighing as he fully parks and cloaks his bike before using the fire escape to make his way up. There he finds his older brother pacing nervously, four black and milds burned to the plastic nub, he anxiously shakes a blue can of spary-paint and some jagged design that Aaron can only describe as panic personified is on the far wall that conceals some gear.

"JD! What the hell man? Had me buggin', Cottonmouth give you some BS or something?" Aaron asks, coming over and clapping a hand on his brother's shoulder. Jefferson blows his current cloud of tobacco high out of Aaron's face before squashing the tip out and adding some flawless circles to the piece.

"I…Ri…we gotta get outta this shit bro." Jefferson bumbles for a moment and Aaron frowns a look of confusion.

"What? Fuck is you talking bout ? What about Rio?" Aaron asks and Jefferson groans and flops to the floor, letting the can roll away. He gives no care to his white hoodie as he sags against the wall of wet paint. Aaron feels creeped out by how young and dumb his brother looks at the moment. Like he's 15 and not 25. He doesn't like it at all.

Aaron squats down next to him and tries to pat out the glassy look in Jeff's eyes. His brother starts to breathe heavily, panic bubbling.

"Rio is pregnant! Like with my baby and I…."

"Damn." Aaron slides to fully sit and Jeff slumps forward and rests his head in his hands, forcing his own head between his knees and thring to steady his breathing. One of those recenter-ing tactics that Rio showed him probably.

"Jeff, if y'all need money fo-"

"She's pregnant wit my kid and Cottonmouth just had us stalk out and scare that one lady who was pregnant and what if that was Rio and-and that fucked her up. We've busted houses and collected in places with kids before what-wh- STOP!" Aaron shakes Jefferson's shoulder hard and the broader of the two of them sits up ramroad straight.

"Calm down nigga, you doin' that spiraling shit that Rio was talking about JD!" Aaron tells him loudly. He gets up and digs around in one of the drawers at the kitchen counter before pulling out a blunt then grabbing a forty of Olde English. He dumps the self medication in his brother's lap and Jeff just huffs and looks at it.

"So, Rio is pregnant. Is she too far out or something for the clinic? You know all we gotta do is call Bunky and she'd find a hanger lady for her."

"Fuck no! I'd never endanger Rio like that, fuck you nigga!" Jefferson curses as he pops the bottle and swings back the first quarter of it. Aaron holds his hands up to disengage him.

"Don't shoot the messenger for the truth bru. With the way you've been sloppy with Cottonmouth's and that new dude King's menace missions lately. I'd hate to have a vulnerability like that. We're getting to a new level in the game bro, that ain't just jacking bank trucks and doing snow drops anymore. A baby will fuck it up. And Rio will not be for this shit. Hell, she might even snitch you out when she finds out that your money from "Security" work ain't so clean."

"Rio would never snitch on me." Jeff glares and Aaron laugh around a puff of the blunt then passes it over.

"Yo girl not mine. All my pussy know what kinda life we live. Live the life we live. Work how we work. You the one who went over to the Heights and got a PR princess that's smarter than you in two languages. Rio's gonna learn the truth if y'all go through with a baby." Aaron tells him and Jeff continues a hard stare to the floor.

"... and just what should I tell her, Master Splinter, since you're so damn wise." Jefferson chuckles darkly with another deep drink. Aaron rolls his eyes.

"She's 23 and just graduated nursing school. She shouldn't fuck her life up with a baby and a bum nigga."

"I'm notta fucking bum!"

"Pretend Jefferson! Either give her the cash to get rid of it and y'all continue on. Or drive her off. She doesn't know the shit we do and we both know what it's like to be raised in the game. Hell, Cottonmouth knowing we brothers is already a slippery slope. You havin' too many folks you care about, known about? Will end up with them dead, we know this. It's why sissy stays down in Jacksonville and mind her own business. Prowler and Lurk have nothing to do with Lady Blue. Shit like that, keeps all of us alive." Aaron reminds him. Jeff growls out in frustration and drives a fist into the plaster of the wall. The blue target he painted earlier crushed within it.

"Fuck!"

"Jeff, what th-"

"What if I don't wanna do this no more."

Both brothers go quiet at the slurred confession. Jefferson gets up and finishes the bottle, Aaron sighs as Jeff rolls the wide bottle between his hands.

"JD le-"

"I don't wanna do this no more. It isn't helping anyone. It's not good for us. I-I keep seeing… keep seeing the eyes of those kids scared outta they minds because I have they daddy or mama's head bashed into the kitchen title. I'd never hurt a kid but… do they know that? What if, they saw me just on the street taking Rio out somewhere or just in the Bodega.."

"That's why we wear a mask, Jeff. Calm the fuck down."

Jeff let's the bottle roll to the floor. He goes to his closet and throws his black and red costume to the floor. The mask isn't much really. A dark red base with three horizontal black lines over his brows, nose, and mouth. Red circle lens adjusted to his prescription over the eyes.

This mask is the face of Lurk. Where Prowler dragged claws behind him to make up for his lean from. Lurk's knuckles were studded, they would beat and beat and beat fear into whoever was his assignment.

He hasn't killed anyone yet. Just destroyed lives. Scarred people. All for money.

Jeff didn't want Lurk's face over his anymore. Not when he saw the most beautiful thing in the world in the form of a gray blob on a sonogram.

"I feel like the baby is a boy, mi vida! I know we have to wait a few more months to know but…I just know!" Rio teases as Jeff snuggles her belly while they rest in her bedroom. Her belly barely has a pudge past her usual shape. She's only a month and half along in the pregnancy at this point.

A person that is half of him and half of the angel who landed in his life three years ago. Who already had a big head for 9 weeks and Jeff's heart in their hand.

"He's going to be a smart baby! I used to like reading, you know, if I had the time, then maybe. But lately, I can't seem to keep a book out of my hands, I crave them like Maduros! Isn't that funny Jeff?"

His son. Does Jeff really want to be part of a world that is already so cruel? A world made scary because of guys like him and Aaron? Is Jeff even a real man to have Rio bring his son into a life like that, just like his father had done for Jeff and his siblings.

"You're too pussy to wear this mask JD. Too weak to be Prowler. Look at your baby brother, Aaron does what needs to be done for real success. He's a real man, he can pick up the claws but you? A waste of muscle, you're gonna be a goonie all your life. At least your sister is a business woman. What the fuck are you?"

"She's 4 months along." Jeff whispers and Aaron shoots up at that.

"What! Why did you wait so long to tell me?"

"You were on a long mission. I didn't want to mess you up when you were on such a touchy mission."

"Jefferson! Be fucking forreal bro!"

"I am! Gotdamit, I am! I'm….I'm done Aaron. Rio had an appointment today and I was staring at that grainy ass black and white picture and… my son, he's beautiful already. Not even here yet I… I can't have him in this life… Miles deserve better. I deserve better… even you and Brynn. Dad was so fucking wrong for putting us into this shit. We deserve better! We need to j-"

Jeff is cut off from his ramble by Aaron punching him in the face. Jeff quickly takes him down right back, the two physically fight. Knocking into the walls, into the coffee table then to the floor. Jefferson pins Aaron under him, one of his knees painfully drives one of Aaron's shoulders to the floor while Jeff struggles to peel Aaron hand from around his throat.

"Why you always gotta prove dad right! You're fuckin weak, you ain't no damn man. You ain't logical!"

"At least I ain't playing dress up in my daddy's damn clothes! I'm tired of this goon shit!" Jeff yells before wrenching Aaron's hand off and twisting it away. He jolts when Aaron cries out as a sickening pop echoes through the room. He scrambles back at that, hands shaking, whatever highs they had somehow chased crashed in an instant.

He just hurt his brother. His damn baby brother.

"Aaron… Ronnie baby… I-"

Aaron lets it go with a strong exhale. He breathes in again and holds his wince as Jefferson carefully brings him to a sit, then leans him against the wall. Its plaster crumbles even further around them, probably asbestos.

"Just shut up Jeff. Just shut the fuck up!" Aaron yells out as he tries to breath through the pain of a shoulder twisted out of socket. He breathed deep, real deep, pulling at the sense of numbness their father had taught him how to do on his first kill missin. To stop him from shaking with pity for a human being (sympathy, empathy, he didn't want to fucking do it but his dad had never shown so much pride). Pity halts a clean kill and a big payday.

Jeff takes Aaron's swift punch to the chest, right above his heart. It winds him up a little. He lets Aaron do it again.

And again.

And-

"Dad gave us this. We're legends to the crime world."

"We are their favorite goons and that's it."

"Fuck you, Jefferson. Put my shit back in place and get out then."

"..."

Jefferson does as such. With a swift and practiced tenderness he puts Aaron's shoulder back into place. Slips it into a brace and hands his baby brother painkillers and anti-inflammatories custom from Doc Ock. Aaron drinks it down with half of the last forty in the fridge.

As Aaron simmers on the couch, Jefferson rolls up Lurk's costume and studded knuckle dusters in a bulky bundle. He sets the keys to his motorcycle on the kitchen counter along with his business only burner phone. He gets to the door and looks back at Aaron who stares coldly ahead at the 10 o'clock Breaking News broadcast. Some big name witness that would have broken a cartel case has been found dead. Thoats gouged out, nearly decapitated with clawed slashes.

"Your cut is in the trunk." Aaron says, his voice all soft, deep, and robotic. Jeff closes the door, he numbly makes it down stairs. He floats as he gets into his Cadillac and drives across Brooklyn to Jamaica Bay.

He burns Lurk to ash, the mask and embers impression in the fire before he buries it in the sand. Jeff lumbers back to the car and opens the trunk. Sure enough, there in a black duffle bag is Jeff's cut of, 75,000$. A one-third of the mission price him and Aaron did a joint job on. That was always the deal with the Davis siblings. Everyone gets one-third. Even Brynn taps a PO box twice a month with profit from her blow and information business. They send her their one-third back to her laundered through jewelry.

Jefferson throws up behind the car. Flashes of blood, crushed in faces, broken limbs, slurred pleas through broken teeth, a screaming child crying for the parent Jeff was crushing in his hands, dance through his mind at each retch.

He leans against it after a few minutes of that then rests his forehead to the cold metal of his car. Praying it cures his fever of alcohol and emotions. He can't believe how warm and flushed he feels. The snowflakes melted instantly and join the sweat on his forehead and neck.

"¡Ay bendito! Jeff! You've got to learn how to regulate yourself better, papá!" Rio would chide him for being so worked up this late at night. Or this early in the morning. It was nearly 1 am.

He closes the trunk on the money. He knows he'll need it. He got an apartment to buy, a home to stock and a nursery to make now.

Aaron wakes up sore, and aching. The TV watching him and the world is white and bright through the window. The weather lady drones about last night's blizzard. He goes through the motions of resting up, thanking God Jeff pulled all that foolishness during his down period after the mission of the night before last. He pads into the bathroom and takes the hottest shower possible, careful to clean his face and hands of dried blood.

He cringes in the mirror but applies a bandage to the cut over his cheek and rubs cooling salave over the bruises. He pauses at the grainy black and white photo of something with a big ass head tucked in the corner of the bathroom mirror.

In Rio's loopy handwriting with a white maker she's made a text bubble in the empty space next to the baby's head.

"Hey Tio' Aaron :D! I'm Miles!"

Aaron huffs, lips twitching up before he washes his face and head back to the couch to have the rest of his beer for breakfast. As he dips his head back he ponders that grainy photo, ponders a childhood of being raised to follow their fathers footstep into the legacy of mercenary work. Jeff is too fucking soft, their father handed them the skills of success on a freaking platter and he's letting a Spanish Mamí and a baby stop that?

When nephew' gets here, I'm just gonna drop some stuff off to Jeff for congratulations and then I'm bouncing to Philly for a bit. Yeah, forget New York for a while. Forget Jefferson and what he swears I deserve.