#I’m a grown ass adult and what I do with my money is none of your damn business

[lesbiansanemi]

It is officially time to set up a new bank account!

[bikerblah]

God bless the soldiers! And airmen, sailors. I am a product of the United States Department of Defense, my father was a soldier, my mother was a hippie, I have a little brother, and nobody cares !!! I have learned lol, but the advantage of growing up moving around a lot, is the culture you can absorb and life’s moral lessons are always on a faster grading curve …

There’s a town outside of Ft Sill , Oklahoma known as Lawton . As I recall the only notable thing about the town , other than the military base was a Goodyear plant , soooo just sniff on that for a sec . I’m trying to place the year in time and the only thing I got is when the raiders and redskins went to the superbowl My little brother had the raiders rain poncho and I was rocking the redskins , my brother was so popular walking around the Taft elementary school yard during recess, I digress , It was the first time I remember that my dad had decided to live off base , even that’s not really important but at this time in my life I would first come to understand the “have’s” and “have not’s”.

I guess it’s common to progress as a child on two wheels into BMX racing but what I have learned is that it is not common, is what everyone refers to as a natural . In fact it takes a lot time , money , and practice to get good at two wheels (no matter what discipline) … now all I saw was the neighbor kid that was my age riding around on a cool looking huffy, and before I know it , he and his parents are inviting dad and I to the local BMX race track.

Why am I typing this ? Cause I have to start at the beginning, None of the clicks or or sub cultures are going to make sense if the “beginning” is skipped, however I can summarize, I didn’t have a proper track bike when I went , my father also didn’t understand why the helmet and pads he bought at the post exchange on base were frowned upon , this would be my first experience with American civilian citizens and the very pervasive judgement and ridicule one will endure when your poor.

… I had to be about 9 years of age , the track was located in an area near “medicine park” just outside of the Indian reservation, I remember buffalo/bison grazing near the road as we drove to the track, I also remember the emotional roller coaster of excitement turning to fear as you see the track and riders, my dad had to help me pull my huffy out of the trunk , the older boys were catching so much air off the jumps, the only thing that stopped my legs from shaking was pedaling the bike to registration. My dad barley had the 10 bucks to participate, at the end of the night I would have wrecked twice , bent my front rim , would learn how to take insults from grown adults and also experience another competitor donating a rim and showing me how to change the inter tube, I would place 5th in my first BMX attempt and although it’s nothing to brag about, it was enough to come back the next weekend and race without having to pay another registration fee, something my dad liked a lot , there was a half dozen races and the best I did was a 3rd place finish, a blue ribbon, no trophies in the early 80’s . I also took with me a fundamental dislike for American civilians and the status they assigned to wealth, don’t get me wrong the best riders on the track were not poorly equipped but you could see that the best riders, the more successful riders had good gear and equipment, they were also the ones that helped out the most .

I’ve carried this memory with me for close to 40 years now , and in my youth I was relentless to call out “posers” , “glamour boys”, “wannabes” , “cheerleaders”, and “fakers of funk” … I would take a permanent maker and write “I am a slow ass pussy” on your rear tire near your chicken strip , then stand there making fun of your squeaky new leather jacket , trying to get you to swing on me, I have been in many dust ups , and if I’m honest, I’ve lost more fist fights then I have won … if I’m going to be honest…. As I do an inventory on this behavior, it’s just jealousy, I have always believed that you shouldn’t be able to buy your way into this culture , at least not “hard core biker” culture .

The economic downturn of 08/09 , taught me a big lesson in economics, hindsight is always clear but , I have learned that it’s the rich or the more affluent motorcyclists that keep the culture funded, when Freddy Mack and Fannie mae went bust, Sons of Anarchy finished, Billy Lane killed a man drunk driving… again … all the bike build shows left cable , it was hard for a biker , no one was buying bikes, no one was building, bike shops and dealerships just went away , it was a bubble and I was there , I remember living in a urban city of Nashville and could only get parts off of eBay … crickets, I still hear people say I used to ride , like it’s a pass to come and scrutinize my sled , I just nod , sometimes I’ll ask why did you stop ? Did you wreck? Have kids ? The answers vary but I usually can pick up that it just wasn’t a “cool” “popular” thing to do any longer , again the Population that is the American pop culture had decided, so what is the being a “biker” … is it a fad?? Is it a culture? Is it a lifestyle? Or is it simply an affordable form of transportation?? What is this thing of ours ??

Till the next blah 🤘… ride safe , ride sober 😎

[mypoisonedvine]

The Wrong Idea | Lee Bodecker x reader

summary: you weren’t exactly a rebel in the eyes of the law, but that didn’t mean you cared for the corrupt, alcoholic town sheriff.  and that certainly didn’t mean you would care at all for him marrying your mother.  if only you’d known how much worse it could get...

word count: 4.5k

warnings: smut!! (heavy dubcon/noncon), age gap (reader is 19), stepcest, loss of virginity, pain kink, creampie kink, infidelity, degradation, oral (m and f receiving), spanking, choking, slapping, daddy kink, authority kink, subtle ddlg themes?, reader’s mom being toxic af

You’d never cared for the Sheriff.  Even you, being generally a well-behaved young woman, thought he was a little too intense and a little too corrupt.  Up until now, you’d assumed your mother agreed with you on that, because she never protested to your complaints about Sheriff Bodecker and his ‘fascist reign of terror’ as you called it.  Apparently that was a poor assumption, though.

“You… what?!”

“I never told you we were seein’ each other because I knew you had your childish rebellion against him and his police force,” your mother explained with a demeaning eyeroll.  “But now that we’re engaged, I can’t hide it anymore.”

“How long has this been going on?” you asked quietly, still in shock at what you were hearing— and unable to take your eyes off of the sparkling diamond wrapped around her finger.

“Oh, I’d say… about two months now,” she decided.

“Two—” you stopped and started over, so bewildered that you couldn’t finish your original sentence.  “You’re engaged after two months?”

“Don’t make that face at me, you look so ugly when you scowl like that,” she frowned.  Of course, she could never miss an opportunity to nag you.  “He’s a respectable man, and he treats me well.  The wedding is in three weeks— and he’s generous enough to let you live with us after that.  Says there’s a spare bedroom for you in his house.”

“His… his house…” you slurred, suddenly feeling light-headed.  “I’m… we’re moving…?”

“Yes, honey, and with your work ethic it’ll take you the whole three weeks to pack up, so you should start now,” she informed you with that cruel, fake smile of hers.

She walked away as you sat down on the couch, staring off into space, trying to comprehend what you just heard.  It’s not like you thought your mother was flawless or anything, or that you and her had a perfect relationship, but you thought she would’ve been a little more… gentle about all this.  She could do better than him anyways!  But she didn’t care about that, only money and status.  You could almost laugh at her small-mindedness to think the Sheriff of a nothing-town like Knockemstiff was actually plentiful in either of those things, but right now you couldn’t laugh.  You couldn’t even cry as you packed your things and said goodbye to the home you’d known your whole life.  You were just numb.

//

You couldn’t look him in the eye when you arrived at his house, duffel bags in hand and shoes stained with the dry red dirt of summer.  It was nicer than your old place, and if it were anyone else’s you’d say it had charm, but everything was tainted because you knew it was his.  You could sort of tell that this had been his bachelor pad for a while, but it had a half-assed attempt at hominess with the rug in the living room and a centerpiece on the kitchen table.  He even had a TV, presumably funded by bribes and all his other nefarious dealings— meaning you wouldn’t be able to bring yourself to watch it.

“Nice to meet ya, properly,” Lee greeted, though his monotone didn’t come across as particularly impassioned.

“Thank you, Sheriff,” you mumbled quickly, hoping to get this conversation over with.

“You don’t have to call me Sheriff anymore, you know.  Not in the house, at least.”

You nodded but said nothing, following him as he motioned for you and moved into the hallway.  You trailed behind him, noticing the eerie lack of any personal effects on the walls (no family photos, apparently, and not much of a family to photograph in the first place from what you’d heard), and stopped when he reached the door at the end.

“This is your room,” Lee informed you stiffly.  Opening the door, you were horrified by the assault on your eyes of pink.  Pink everything: pink wallpaper, a pink fuzzy quilt, pink bedframe.  There were even assorted stuffed animals on the bed, disturbingly enough.

“When my mother told you she had a daughter, did she not mention that I was grown?”

“You may be nineteen, honey, but you’re nowhere near grown,” he scowled.  “She didn’t tell me she had a daughter until two days before the weddin’.  This is what I managed to... improvise, since then.”

You almost had sympathy for him, just in that you two were both victims of your mother’s eccentricity.  Almost.  

“Must’ve inherited your expensive taste from your ma,” he frowned.  “Sorry, princess—” the nickname made his lips curl like the word itself tasted sour— “but this’ll have to do.”

“Oh, I’m nothing like her,” you sneered back, “cause I wouldn’t touch you with a ten foot pole.”

“What are you two chatting about?” your mother’s voice called from the kitchen.

Both of you answered at the same time: “Nothing!” 

With a grimace, you dragged your bag into the room and shut the door in his face.  It was those little acts of rebellion that had to tide you over.  You weren’t audacious enough to do anything actually cruel, or illegal, but you weren’t going to make this any easier for him.

At first it was just refusing to leave your room.  That worked for a week, until you realized you were going to starve to death.  So then the only times you saw him were at the dinner table, which you made into a protest by pretending he didn’t exist and refusing to answer his questions.  You occasionally relented when he asked you to pass something from your side of the table, but you never looked at him while you did it.  

He didn’t seem angry or sad about your determination to avoid him, if anything it seemed like he was happy to pretend you weren’t there either.  And that should’ve made it easier, but for some reason it bothered you even more.  You realized that maybe his attention did matter to you, even though it was negative attention that you were hoping to inspire, but you knew that was ridiculous and you tried to fight it.  Still, for all your plans to never see him, you sure did think about him a lot.  You thought about where he might be, so you could be somewhere else.  You thought about what he must be doing at work, and how he was probably continuing to be a nasty mean drunk as frequently as possible.  You wondered if he and your mother were making love just across the house, although you were lucky enough to never hear anything.  Just knowing that could be happening made you feel sick, even though you realized it was none of your business.  

You sometimes found yourself listening for it at night, just in case.

//

Your mother had decided to spend her new husband’s money on a trip, but the man himself couldn’t tag along— too much work to do, apparently.  The prospect of being left alone with him was nightmare fuel, but you didn’t even try to ask her to stay… you knew she wouldn’t listen.  She’d been totally absorbed in her own world since the wedding, seeming to be very fulfilled by the social role of ‘Sheriff’s wife’ to the point that she had lost all interest in her former position as ‘your mom’.  

There was a balance to the silence with her gone, though.  You avoided him, he avoided you; it was a tense truce, but a survivable one.  At least without her, nobody was going to try to make you two get along.  Friday night was different, though.  This time when he came home from work, you knew you were stuck with him until Monday morning.  That thought made you realize that you needed to get out and you didn’t care if you weren’t dressed for it.  It was hot, and it was just a walk so nobody was going to see you in this miniskirt anyway, right?

Too bad Lee was sitting on the couch, still in his uniform, not giving you any mind but likely to harass you before you could make it outside.  You figured if you just walked casually enough, he wouldn’t even notice, so you made your way towards the door.

“You’re not going out like that,” he announced suddenly, seemingly without even looking up from his newspaper.

“Says who?” you deflected quickly with a raised brow.  It wasn’t that you wanted to pick a fight, but you just couldn’t understand why he would even care what you were wearing.

“Says the guy who doesn’t want you to give all the neighborhood boys the wrong idea.”

“What idea?!” you asked, crossing your arms.  He shot you a look, quickly raking in your body and outfit which made you feel more observed than you cared for.

“The idea that you’re a slut,” he explained coldly.

You gulped at his words but tried to keep a poker face.  You didn’t let it get this far just to give up.  You were so sick of his shit; what made him think he could boss you around when he’d never even tried to get to know you?

“What makes you assume that’s the wrong idea?” you shot back, fighting the nervousness in your voice.

You hadn’t expected him to stand up instantly, the coffee table wobbling a bit when his knee bumped into it.

“The fuck did you say?” he hissed.

With his teeth bared at you he looked like a predator, and you felt like small, helpless prey.  You tried to muster some of your former confidence, but everything came out shaky and weak.  “I— I said that maybe it’s not the wrong ide—”

He pounced, crossing the room and slamming you back against the wall, a hand at each shoulder; you instantly cowered, shrinking back and turning your face away from him as far as you could.  You never thought he’d put his hands on you like this.  Your heart was pounding so loudly that you were surprised you could hear his hoarse whisper.

“Watch your tone with me.  I’m not kidding around.”

“I’m an adult,” you weakly fought back, “I can do what I want.”

“Not in my fuckin’ house you can’t!” he bellowed.

For some reason, it all hit you at once.  All the emotions you’d been suppressing since your mother had gotten engaged— all the anger and fear and betrayal and indignation, they came bubbling up before you could stop them.  

“I don’t even want to be in your ugly fucking house!” you cried in response.  “I don’t wanna be anywhere near you!  You’re a fascist and a tyrant and a pig!”

You expected him to get more aggressive but he suddenly stilled.  It was the scariest anger, that outwardly-calm type that made your blood go cold.

“Go to your room.”

You didn’t question it, turning to walk away (any excuse to get away from him, right?), but you didn’t expect him to follow you in and shut the door behind the both of you.

You were paralyzed with fear as he stepped past you and sat on your bed.  It was sort of strange as you realized you’d never seen him in your room before.  He stood out against the somewhat childish decorations, but you were in no mood to appreciate the humor of the situation as he patted his knee.

“Lay across my lap.  Don’t make me tell you twice.”

He couldn’t possibly be doing what I think he’s doing, could he? you wondered to yourself, but did as he asked.  You realized you’d never been so close to him before, the warmth of his body radiating through his clothes.  He smelled like cologne and booze, although you didn’t think he’d actually had much to drink yet today— at least compared to his normal habits.  It was almost worse to think that he wasn’t acting on drunkenness now.

“It’s prob’ly too late for it, but you are in serious need of discipline, young lady.”

You had no idea what he was talking about, but your body reacted to it differently than you expected.

His fingers slipped between the top of your skirt and your skin, having to pull pretty hard to get it down due to how tight it was.  You bit your lip and hoped he wouldn’t notice your arousal, but as your pussy was exposed, you could feel the breeze from the ceiling fan and you knew you were undeniably wet.  You didn’t know why, but you were.

“Count them for me,” he instructed coldly and before you could ask what you were counting, he brought his hand down firmly.  You felt his wedding ring in the slap and it made you feel a little sick.

“O-one,” you stammered.

He delivered four more, alternating cheeks, and you tried not to react with visible pain.  But as the intensity increased, you realized that not reacting might’ve actually been making it worse.  Either way, you couldn’t stop yourself from crying out when the eighth made your whole body lurch forward from the force.

“Eight!” you squealed, but both of you noticed the way you pushed your hips forward.  Unintentional as it may have been, you were trying to rub yourself on his thigh, desperate to be touched where it felt like all the energy of your body had focused.  You were sure you’d never been so horny before, and now your clit was nearly throbbing.  What the fuck is wrong with me?!

He quickly delivered the final two slaps before grabbing your neck, hoisting you up until you were on your knees before him.  He examined your face closely and you tried to keep your lip from shaking.

“You’re worse than I thought,” he hissed.  “You are in dire need of a punishment.  You should thank me for going so easy on you so far.”

You realized when his grip on your jaw tightened that he was being literal.  “Thank you, for going easy on me…”

“Where’d that fire go, huh?  Guess you’re all talk,” he laughed.  

He roughly shoved his fingers into your mouth, moaning lowly as your tongue rubbed against the pads of his fingers.  “This fuckin’ mouth.  You just don’t know when to keep it shut, do you?  Come on baby, open up.  I’ve got a better use for it than your fuckin’ disrespectful attitude.”

He used his free hand to work on his belt right in front of your face, and your eyes went wide.

“Don’t act so surprised sweetheart,” he said with a hint of irritation, “this is exactly what you’re asking for.”

You gasped a bit when his cock was freed from his trousers, springing up and already red at the tip.  You’d never seen one this close before and it was intimidating in every way.

“Like what you see?  You’re so wet for it,” he purred.  You tried to speak but words abandoned you. 

It was all a blur as he held your mouth open and shoved his cock inside— it tasted like skin and salt, and the size made your chapped lips crack until you worried they would bleed.  His moans were deep and gravelly, making your skin break out into goosebumps as he pumped smoothly into your pliant mouth.  He slapped your face a few times, not quite hard but plenty strong enough to make it sting.  You winced with each impact, the tears which had welled from your gagging finally falling down and dripping from your chin.

“Suck on it, princess, like a popsicle… fuck yeah, like that,” he groaned, and your mind resisted obeying him but your body was completely at his mercy.  “Aw baby, ya look so good chokin’ on my cock.  Is that what you were gonna go do in this slutty little outfit you’ve got on?”

You tried to shake your head but he was holding you down, not even giving you a chance to breathe.  His protruding stomach rubbed against your forehead when his cock was this deep in your throat, and the disgust and fear somehow made your arousal stronger.

He let you go, finally, and you pulled back with a gasp and a cough.  You weren’t given much reprieve, though, as he started to tug at your blouse as well.

“No, wait,” you whimpered, weakly trying to bat his hands away.

“Wait?  I think I’ve been waiting long enough,” he growled.  “Your ma’s a fuckin’ tease, hasn’t touched me since I got her that ugly fuckin’ ring.  Let’s hope you learn from her mistakes.”

Your blouse was torn open and tossed aside, leaving you only in the pulled-up skirt and your bra.  Reaching up to cover yourself, you were discouraged by the shockingly-gentle brush of his hands. 

“Don’t cover yourself, sweetheart, you’re gorgeous,” he murmured.  His gaze made you feel hot all over, and it wasn’t just because of the summer weather outside.  “Nobody ever looked at ya before?”

You shook your head, looking down at the floor.  A finger under your chin guided you to look up at him.  

“Nobody ever touched ya before?” he pressed, his stare boring into you.  You shook your head again.  “Fuck,” he whispered, but then he started to smile proudly.  “Knew you were a good girl, princess, you just didn’t wanna act like one for some reason.  You gonna be good for me now?” 

You nodded weakly, swallowing as you tried to comprehend what was happening.  

“Then I’ll be good to you, too,” he promised darkly, a shimmer in his eyes that made you throb between your thighs.  “Come get on the bed, pretty girl.”

You almost resisted, but it was your need driving you now, not your mind.  You had been waiting too long to let a boy touch you, and now that a man had touched you, you felt all kinds of wrong and yet craved more.  Before you had even finished sitting down beside him, he was slipping off your bra and pushing you back onto the quilt.

“Sheriff!” you yelped instinctively, a little disoriented as he started to climb on top of you.

He chuckled, clearly amused by your unexpected appeal to authority.  “Wanna know a secret, sweetheart?  Wanna know the real reason I said you didn’t have to call me that anymore?”  He leaned down, his breath hot and moist against your neck when he spoke: “Because it made me so fuckin’ hard when you said it.”

He pressed his cock, still wet with your spit, against your thigh; maybe just for emphasis, a reminder that he was still hard and wasn’t anywhere near done with you.

“What are you gonna do to me…?” you asked weakly, your voice so wavering and broken that you cringed just hearing it.  

“Just gonna make you feel good, princess,” he smiled, and before you could ask what that would entail, he was groping your tits in his large, calloused hands.  A low groan echoed in his chest, and you tried not to squirm as he teased your nipples between his fingers.  They were already hardening from the moment he’d touched you, but somehow it was getting even worse when he played with them, watching your face and surely seeing the shame you wore there.

His hands trailed lower, rubbing your waist, your thighs… you found yourself anticipating that he’d remove your panties, so much so that when he did, you quickly lifted your hips to help him slide them off.  You couldn’t believe how easily you were letting him do this to you.

“I can tell how much you want it,” he taunted lowly as the fabric slid down your legs and was tossed to the floor.  “I can smell how much you want it.”  He growled a little before diving in, licking a thick stripe through your folds and taking a moment right at the end to tickle your clit with his tongue.  “So fuckin’ sweet, princess; I knew you would be,” he praised.  You were forced to wonder how long he’d been thinking about this.

The noises were beyond obscene and you felt your face burning— but there was a burning in your gut, too, and shooting down your legs.  You’d never felt like this before (being a very good girl who never even touched herself), but you knew that if he didn’t stop, you would come.  And you really, really wanted to come.

Everytime he put pressure on your clit, your leg quivered involuntarily.  It was nearly too much, the sensation so powerful it almost hurt, but he pushed you right to the edge without knocking you off.

“Please,” you found yourself begging before you could stop it, “please, Sheriff—”

“I’m not your Sheriff anymore, sweetheart,” he informed you gruffly, popping up from between your legs with the entire bottom half of his face covered in your arousal, “I���m your daddy now.  Go on and beg your daddy to fuck you.”

Eyes shot wide open, you stared back at him in bewilderment.  Rage flashed in his eyes, and he snarled as his hand suddenly wrapped around your neck, tightening and choking you. 

“You heard me,” he groaned through his teeth.  “Beg me.  To fuck you.”

“Daddy,” you stammered, hoarsely fighting to speak through the pressure on your throat, “fuck me, please.”

He slammed his cock into you and you nearly screamed.  It burned and you instinctively tried to crawl away but, of course, his weight on top of you made it impossible.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groaned.  He laid down on top of you entirely then, slipping his arms under your torso and holding you tightly.

Each thrust made you feel like you had reached your limits, as if you couldn’t be stretched further which was probably true.  And yet, in spite of it (or worse, because of it), you found yourself moaning and writhing under him, even arching your back to make his movements smoother.  He laughed a little as he bit at the shell of your ear.

“You love it, baby,” he moaned, “you love my cock.”

You couldn’t respond, just sob as you clutched at the shirt still on his back, your jaw tight as you tried to bear the pain.  

“It’s not always gonna hurt like this,” he promised between heavy breaths, “s’gonna feel good soon.  Gonna make you feel so fuckin’ good, pretty girl.”

Truthfully, you weren’t sure if that meant that this would happen again or not.  At the moment, you were incapable of thinking that far ahead, too focused on the way the sting of the stretch was melting away and morphing into such powerful pleasure that you couldn’t even see straight.

He kissed you, and only then did the weight of it hit you.  Who he was, what he was doing, what you were doing… it had been distant and vague before, but something about his tongue inside your mouth made you remember that the metal digging into your back was his ring; that the lips on yours were sworn to somebody else— and at that, the one exact person that made this so fundamentally wrong.

Tears welled in your eyes, gentle sobs shaking your chest.

“Don’t cry, baby,” he whispered, pulling back and kissing your tears away, “feels good, don’t it?  Feels good when daddy fucks you?”

You knew speaking would only make you cry more, so you only nodded your head shamefully.

“That’s my good girl,” he moaned as he fucked you deeper, harder, rougher.  Your fingers held onto the back of his neck, running through his hair and pulling him closer.  He kept mumbling praises but they fell on deaf ears, pleasure clouding your mind and making every hair on your body stand upright.  He didn’t stop as he reached down between your bodies and laid his hand over your stomach, growling with satisfaction at what he found there.

“I can feel me inside ya,” he grinned.  “Feel that, sweetheart?  Feel how deep I am in your wet little cunt?”

When you didn’t answer, you got a quick slap to the face.  “Yes,” you replied quickly, “yes, I— I feel it.”

He buried his face into the crook of your neck, biting you there until you nearly screamed.  You couldn’t figure out why something so objectively painful only pushed you closer to your peak, making every spot inside you more sensitive, but somehow it did.

“Gonna come, pretty girl?  Want daddy to fill you up?” he groaned against your ear, pushing down on your stomach even harder.

“Yes, daddy!” you sobbed.  “Please!”

“Fuck, you’re squeezin’ me,” he hissed, “don’t fuckin’ stop.  Keep milkin’ my cock and m’gonna fill ya up so good, princess…”

You couldn’t stop even if you tried— your orgasm hit you in powerful waves, your head falling back as your walls clenched involuntarily (as did your fingers and toes, so hard that your nail tore the sheets a little bit, which you wouldn’t notice until the next day).  He grunted as he came, pumping into you with each thrust until you felt more full than you ever had before, in a way you could never describe.

The two of you stayed like that for a moment, him catching his breath and you losing yours as his weight threatened to crush you.  “Fuck,” he groaned as he sat up and pulled out.  He grabbed your legs and held them up for you, staring at your abused pussy and making you feel uncomfortably observed.

“Push it out for me, wanna see my come leak outta ya,” he purred, moaning a little when you did as he asked.  It felt even hotter as it gushed out of you, and you mindlessly bit your lip.  He tucked his softening cock back into his trousers, rezipping them and buckling his belt.  “We’d better get ya cleaned up, huh princess?” 

The bathroom wasn’t far, so he carried you, setting you down to stand on your own as he started to draw a bath.  You watched him, although you weren’t really watching him so much as staring into the void of space that happened to be in his general direction.  You were so out of it that you didn’t even register when he turned around and smiled at you with an air of pride.

“You look so good like this.”  

It pulled you out of your trance, though you had to ask him to repeat himself with a mumbled “huh?”

“I said you look good like this,” he explained, stepping closer.  “Fucked out, braindead, just my empty-headed fucktoy.”

“I… I don’t…” you began to disagree.

He used your jaw to turn your face to the mirror, and you gasped when you saw yourself: your hair was a mess; your whole face was red, especially your eyes and nose from crying, but plenty on your cheeks where he’d slapped you; your lips were swollen and slick; bruises were already forming on your arms where he’d grabbed you, and along your neck and shoulders where he had bitten you.

His form dwarfed yours as he stood behind you, looking at your reflection with a smile.

“Look at us,” he announced wistfully, “one big happy family, huh?”

[trollprincess]

Let me explain to you all why this is the greatest fucking day of my life.

First, I’ll explain what that doll is, for anyone too young to know what it is. That is a Cabbage Patch Doll. It’s not like a regular baby Cabbage Patch Doll, it’s some special sort of Cabbage Patch Doll that really doesn’t matter. What matters is who had it all this time. Cabbage Patch Dolls were *incredibly* popular around 1983-1986 or so, to the point where if you go on YT and search for them, you can very easily find news footage of adults going bugfuck in stores trying to get one of these for their kids.

The important thing is not what it is, or even what type it is. It’s WHO had it.

So I was about six or seven when these got big. I had a cousin Erica a year younger, and another cousin Danielle a year younger than that. And naturally we ALL wanted Cabbage Patch Dolls. At the very least, I know I eventually got one. And I did what every kid did with theirs. I loved it into the fucking ground. I played with it, I got it dirty, my grandma made it little outfits. I’m sure my cousins got theirs as well, since our grandma spoiled us all and they were only children, so either our grandma or their parents more than likely got them one.

BUT.

Aunt Phyllis was our great-aunt. She wasn’t married, she had no kids, so we were used to Aunt Phyllis giving us whatever we wanted. And we weren’t bad kids or greedy kids, we didn’t ask for anything extravagant. Aunt Phyllis took us for car rides and played old novelty songs like “The Streak” and “My Ding-a-Ling” and bought us ice cream. She was fun.

But she has always been one of those people who gets caught up in “this collectible will be worth something someday.” Beanie Babies, DVDs, etc. She didn’t have a lot of money, but she’d always find some to spend on those sorts of things. At one point in recent years, she had several iPads because she would buy the newest version but keep the old one, and then use one for email and another for Facebook and another for games and another for Kindle.

Anyway, when you’re six, you don’t understand “this collectible will be worth something in the future.” You understand Aunt Phyllis loves you, and always gets you stuff, and never says no.

So one day I go over to her house for a sleepover (we would stay in the twin beds in her room and we’d watch “Misfits of Science”) and I see THEM. *Six* Cabbage Patch Dolls. SIX. Two newborns and four regular Cabbage Patch Dolls, all set up and displayed on a table at the top of the stairs. (In front of a large window where they’d get a lot of sun and fade and depreciate, but I didn’t even think about that until years later.) Six Cabbage Patch Dolls, at a time when so many people could hardly get ONE.

I looked up at my great-aunt who gave me anything and asked in awe, “Can I have one?”

And my aunt looked back and said, “No.”

She also told me I couldn’t touch them. In fact, none of us could touch them. We were just supposed to ignore them. And I mean … I was six. Erica was five, Danielle was four. Are you serious? I can’t even look at them?

And, like, part of it was they sold these things as babies. They were *real*. They came with birth certificates and everything. So leaving them sitting there in the box all alone with no one to play with them … it made me sad. It made me sad for YEARS. I would occasionally be reminded of Cabbage Patch Dolls, and every time I did I thought of those lonely dolls sitting in Aunt Phyllis’s house and I’d get sad.

I’m sure eventually she gave them away or sold them or something, but having one of *Aunt Phyllis’s* dolls was the dream. I do think part of it was so rarely being told no as a kid, but also that taunt of “you can’t touch them or have them or look at them, they’re just THERE.” That was the holy grail of my childhood.

Cut to now, forty years later. I am a grown-ass woman. My Aunt Phyllis is in her eighties and has been having some health issues, so my parents and cousins are helping her move into senior living apartments in town. This means cleaning out her house, which understandably has a mountain of stuff in it. (It’s not on “Hoarders” levels, but it’s cluttered.)

My mom texts me and says, “Your aunt can’t take a lot of this stuff with her when she moves. Is there anything you’d like?” I said there are two things I’d be open to taking - books (another thing my aunt used to collect), and a Cabbage Patch Doll, if she had any of them left.

Last week, my mom goes, “Come up the house, I have something for you.”

AND THERE SHE WAS.

She is out of the box. I’m not putting her back in. She’s been in a closet for *forty years*. I am going to take this doll and love it until it *falls the fuck apart*. I’m going to get it dirty. I’m going to let the dog play with it. I’m going to make up for four decades of this poor thing not having a little girl to love it by being the big girl who loves it.

And I’m changing her name to something awesome. Like Carrie Fucking Fisher.

[mystic-faraday]

UTIL Plays Phoenix Wright: Justice For All (Case: Turnabout Bigtop... *sighs*)

(We had a drinking game going on while playing this case, if you would like to play your own version of the Turnabout Big Top drinking game, you can find it HERE )

- “Time for the worst case”

- “Breaking news: spirit channeling is a STEM FIELD! NOT magic.”

- Phoenix VA:  “Alright pearl you’re gonna learn about gay people” Pearl VA:  “I hope you have a good night and learn about gay people like me” Franziska VA: “Oh I think he already knows sweetie”

- Pearl “I wanna be gay when I grow up” Fey

- Max :“you’ve got to be pulling my magic wand” Everyone in call collectively: NOPE,NO NO NON O

- “Are those homestuck horns on his desk?”  “It’s a moustache!”  *unanimous chanting* “Model magic moustache!” 

- Miles VA: “I like knitting” Franziska VA: “And I like coins” Together: “We did not come out of the same loins”

-"cotton eyed m--" "HOW BOUT COTTON EYE NO?????"

-Gumshoe VA:  "Maybe I did wanna be a magician, maybe I didn't. what are you, a cop?"

-”Why does Moe have a set of suspenders that have such a defined butt?” “THOSE PANTS IMPLY MOE HAS A DUMPTRUCK ASS”

- Moe: Appears for the first time and tells his first joke Entire VC: silent as everyone takes a drink

- Maya: “Phoenix Laugh!” Phoenix VA:“Har, Har, Har, Har, Har *opens flask* har har **takes sip*”

- “We all have a metaphorical carrot in front of our faces…or something”

- “Guys, does Moe Fuck??? “OBJECTION: no one wants to hear the answer to that” “Well he’s got that Dumptruck Ass” “Moe the clown more like Hoe the clown”

- “What if we kissed under the carrot mistletoe and we were both clowns”

-We uncovered the collective truth that Manfred von Karma, like every single other person in the ace attorney series, is transgender, and therefore did not need to sleep with anyone to create Franziska 

- “The straightest character in this series is Trilo ‘cause he’s made of wood”

- Everyone refusing to read any lines of dialogue relating to the marriage / relationship between a child and a grown adult &  Casually just skipping entire sections of dialogue because none of us have the emotional willpower to voice act them.

- Trilo Voice: nipples!

- “WE CANT SAY # GIRL IN THIS COURTROOM!”

- “Bitter love tria” *cuts off mid-sentence due to psychic damage*

- “ I cant believe I dodged a fucking bullet by voicing the clown”

- “How do you respond to this?” *Someone’s bottle making a swish noise as everyone takes a drink* “The Foley of it all”

- Franziska Voice: he’s my poor little meow meow

- “I’m never forgiving this game for west clownadelphia”

-“Have you met my proctologist? Dr. Seymour Butts!!’ “OH MY GOD LARRY’S DAD?!” “Everything is circling back to Moe’s ass...”

- Miles VA: This is why I left the country Franziska VA: IM SORRY FOR EVERYTHING WE DID IN OUR CHILDHOOD PLEASE PICK ME UP IM SCARED

- Mii Sports ‘Nice Shot’ plays every time Franziska whips someone

- Moe: Trauma dumps in a court of law 2 seperate people: Sir this is a wendys

- “I’ll talk as long as you want!” UTIL greek chorus: ~Please Don’t~\

- “my poor little honk honk”

- “Something is toying with this court and it’s not me”  “IT’S THE GODDAMN PUPPET”

- “I don’t know why (im so tired)- actually i do. it’s because we’re playing bigtop”

- Actively replacing the word ‘sweetie’ with any word starting with the letter S

-*long pause of silence* “I think his nipples are the roses”

- “Max has a big... bust?” “We get it Phoenix, you’re a tits man!”

-”(Max’s Bust) Went missing 5 days ago” “HE HAD TOP SURGERY 5 DAYS AGO?!” “Teetus Deleteus”

- *Call dead silent except for the voice actors during the ‘Prosecutor Edgeworth chooses Death’ discussion* *The moment the scene ends* “WHY THE FUCK WAS THIS IN TURNABOUT BIGTOP?!

- “Miles Edgeworth chooses Bed”

-“Ooh ooh ah ah come here my little pogchamp”  Money: Instantly starts attacking Phoenix “ I guess he didn't like being called pogchamp”

- “I want to get to the end so i can get a shirt or pin saying ‘I survived the big top’” (Note: Everyone who made it to the end got a server role called ‘I survived Turnabout Big Top)

-“Moe is Regina’s uncle because he was dating the ringmaster” “The ringmaster is his rebound from his breakup with Manfred” “Terrible work everyone”

- “~Because it’s turnabout big top and life is a Fucking Nightmare~!”

- Entire VC, entering HOUR 6 of this case: “This is the case that never ends! It goes on and on my friends”

-‘Nothing can interrupt me expect death itself” *very quietly in the distance* ‘nice shot’

-Leon: *Bites Bat* “WAS THAT THE BITE OF’ 87?!”

-Phoenix: Deep, deep down I know you want to do good Franziska and Edgeworth: *hissing*

-Acro: *Starts Crying* *in the distance* nice shot\

-Edgeworth: *Appears at the ending scene* Franziska VA: THATS MY BROTHER

“Turnabout Bigtop, The End” Entire VC: *ERUPTS IN CELEBRATORY SCREAMS*

BONUS ROUND: Alternative Names for Turnabout Big Top: Turnabout Please Stop Turnabout Big Top: It Only Gets Worse Turnabout Nice Shot

VIDEO VERSION: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hhpeReADAoM

[confused-stars]

Kurogiri’s Nanny Service - Part Three: Monoma

(part one) (part two)

It's a comfortable rainy afternoon, and three kids are huddled over a pile of wallets, watches and jewelry on the floorboards of Kurogiri's bar.

Keigo's small wings are puffed up in pride as Himiko admires a bracelet, rhinestones shining in the dim light when she turns it this way and that.

Tomura seems more invested in the wallets, going over the business cards and such with interest, and piling off the money and credit cards separately from the rest of the treasures.

He pauses to stuff a bill into his pocket, and Takami, who is sprawled out in a nearby booth, pries one eye open. "If you wanna have sticky fingers, you gotta be more subtle about it, brat."

How he noticed is beyond Kurogiri entirely. But it's been a point of contention how terrible Tomura really is at stealing. Or any kind of subtlety. He was never trained for that, with his sensei always telling him to just take what he wants by force, but he gets frustrated that Takami seems to catch him every time.

Keigo pouts, even as Tomura puts the money back. "C'mon, To, that's my hard earned haul! You don't even need money."

Tomura rolls his eyes. "Neither do you, beakface. Kurogiri would take care of your stuff, too, if you asked him."

Keigo's hand flies up to his nose and he makes an affronted noise.

"Not how that works, baby bunny," Takami interjects, "Villains don't wanna owe debts. Even to their friends." He gives Kurogiri a glance. " 'specially to their friends."

Kurogiri meets his gaze evenly. "Does that mean I can expect you to pay your tab today?"

Takami throws his head back and laughs as if that was the funniest joke he ever heard.

The children giggle, too.

Traitors, all of them. How is he ever going to make honest villains out of them like this?

Kurogiri decides not to complain about it, because he's the adult here and he'll act like one.

His phone vibrates in his pocket. He knows better than to ignore it, so he glances at the text he's received. It's just coordinates. That's nothing unusual. In fact, it's more common than getting sent actual words as instructions.

"I have to go," he says, already creating a portal in the air.

The children don't even react beyond small noises of acknowledgement. They're already more than used to this, too.

It's only Takami's eyes that bore into the side of Kurogiri's head as he steps through the portal, sharp and predatory. He's been asking questions about the man in charge of Kurogiri and Tomura recently. He's suspicious.

Kurogiri is not allowed to tell him more than necessary, but he understands the concern. Takami is bringing his child here, after all.

And the concern might not be unfounded - Keigo is passionate and clever, already skilled at pickpocketing, and his quirk is incredibly useful and versatile. If he weren't considered a possible future asset, Kurogiri doubts that All for One would be allowing this to continue. He's always been strictly against Tomura socializing with other children his age, or anyone at all. And now he's allowing both Keigo and Himiko. Not to mention the fully grown, dangerous villain. Tomura has never been happier, never been more stable. There has to be some kind of plan at work here that Kurogiri can't see yet. Some kind of additional angle.

The portal vanishes behind Kurogiri; that strange tension of using his quirk, of stretching it out like a well-trained muscle, dissipating at once.

He's standing in a nondescript room that he's been to many times to pick up objects to transport, or have a meeting with All for One outside of his main base of operations. Sometimes they keep prisoners in here.

This time, though, it's empty save for All for One and a small child.

Kurogiri immediately feels part of him soften, even as his guard goes up.

The boy looks to be maybe Himiko's age, six or seven, with neatly combed, blond hair and startlingly grey eyes that look awfully familiar.

"Introduce yourself," All for One says in that gentle tone he usually reserves for Tomura alone.

The child bows politely. "Hello. I'm Monoma Neito, it's nice to meet you." His words and tone are carefully formal, but there's a slight clumsiness in the way he speaks. It's, frankly, adorable. And nothing Kurogiri is used to. None of his children have manners.

"I am called Kurogiri," he replies, "It is a pleasure to meet you as well."

"Are you made of that stuff?" Neito asks pretty much immediately once the very basic niceties are done with. He waves his arms at Kurogiri's form to indicate what he means.

It's a good thing Kurogiri is used to Himiko. And the other children's bluntness, too, to some degree.

"... for the most part," he replies, and then gives All for One a questioning look.

"Neito is my grandson," his master explains, and Kurogiri can't find it in him to be shocked. They do look similar enough. "His parents are out of town on most weekends," All for One continues, "So I offered your services."

Kurogiri wants to sigh. He's not actually a nanny. Is he? If even All for One is treating him like one, he might as well put up a sign. (Tomura hardly counts, Tomura is his boy.)

"Of course." He bows his head. Neito seems well-behaved anyway, it shouldn't be much trouble.

___

Fifteen minutes later, there's a small boy hanging off of Takami's wing by his teeth, and Kurogiri has very little recollection of how they got here.

"I hate your job," Takami laments, shaking his wing with very little gentleness in an attempt to make Neito let go.

Kurogiri reaches out to hold his wing in place, and Takami freezes.

"I... apologize. I was under the impression he was a little better behaved than this." He gently nudges Takami to sit down, his wing spread out, and Neito ends up finally letting go once his only other option is to end up sprawled on the floor.

"You can't just bite people!" Himiko chides, "Even if it'll feel nice, it won't be nice for them."

Neito breathes, then shakes himself. "Your quirk is weird!" he complains.

Kurogiri nods in sudden understanding. All for One told him about this, before he left them to their own devices.

"Neito, you should not copy someone's quirk without knowing what effects it will have on you. Or at the very least you should test it in a safe environment."

Neito crosses his arms. "This is safe."

Kurogiri sighs. "Yes, it is, but you still didn't give a warning. The adults that are taking care of you need to know when you're experimenting, so we can keep you from getting hurt," he explains.

"Or ourselves," Takami grumbles.

Neito huffs. "Fine." He doesn't apologize. Kurogiri doesn't make him. He somehow doubts All for One would approve of that - he never apologizes for anything, after all.

The wing Kurogiri is still holding onto pushes against his hand.

Kurogiri glances at Takami, curious, but the thief is very pointedly avoiding his gaze.

He always tells Keigo he's 'too trusting' when he lets the other kids touch his wings, and Kurogiri has never dared to. Much less touch Takami's. It just happened on instinct this time.

The wing pushes against Kurogiri's hand again. The upper edge of it feels strong and warmer than Kurogiri expected. The feathers here aren't particularly soft when Kurogiri runs his hand along them. Not as soft as he imagines the down feathers to be, anyway.

Not that he's going to try to find out. That would be wholly inappropriate.

"You're cold as fuck," Takami complains, but he's not at all pulling away, and Kurogiri continues, trailing his hand down lower to the longer secondaries that make up most of the actual wing.

"My apologies. It's my quirk." Must be. His quirk is highly complicated and has more layers to it than he can count. Sometimes he gets strangely upset that he's not able to give Tomura warm hugs. Not that Tomura enjoys physical contact much, anyway, but Kurogiri feels like he should be able to give him some warmth, and his body under the ever-wavering vapor is cold as a corpse's.

"Your quirk sounds like a pain in the ass," Takami murmurs, "But at least it looks cool."

Kurogiri chuckles. "I'm flattered you think so."

"You got a real face under there somewhere?" Takami cranes his head back to eye Kurogiri skeptically. "Your hands feel solid enough."

Kurogiri gives a half-shrug in answer. "There's... something underneath. But I don't know what it looks like. The mist never fades."

"Mysterious... hey, can you pull out that crooked feather over there? 's itchy as all hell."

The preening thing is another family activity that Kurogiri has avoided so much as commenting on in the past. Now, he carefully tugs at the feather that's standing out from the rest of them, until it comes loose and Takami sighs in relief.

"Yeah, fuck, that's better."

"You said fuck," says Neito, behind them, and Kurogiri nearly jumps. He hadn't thought the children were paying any attention to them right now.

"Twenty minutes to corrupt a child, you're beating your own records," he says dryly to Takami, who cackles and reaches out out ruffle Neito's hair, but the boy steps back and frowns at him.

Neito is very well-kept, and Takami is kind of... well, grimy. And scary-looking. Kurogiri doesn't blame him.

"Aye, and I'll say worse words, so you better get used to it, li'l chompers."

Neito's nose crinkles when his frown deepens.

"Don't tease the child," Kurogiri scolds, feeling not for the first time like he shouldn't have to take responsibility for Takami, the thirty year old adult.

Then again, he somehow doubts that anyone taught Takami manners during his own childhood.

"Hey, why can't I be chompers?" Himiko complains, tugging at Takami's other wing like there's nothing to it. Her hands are probably sticky with something, as usual, but Takami doesn't move away.

Maybe he's not that terrible with children.

"Ah, 'cause you wanna be. It's no fun when you like the nickname," Takami explains, picking her up and plopping her down into his lap.

"I actually really like mine!" Tomura says from atop the bar.

Takami snorts. "Once we teach you decent thievin', next point of order is makin' you not be a shit liar."

Tomura huffs, crossing his arms. "I don't need to know how to lie. Sensei never lies."

That gives Takami pause. His eyes meet Kurogiri's, and he pulls his wing away, folding both neatly against his back.

"Yeah, I'm sure he doesn't."

[the-goddess-of-mischief-writing]

New York High Rise {1}

Chapter summary; During all your years as the most successful mob boss of New York, no-one have ever dared to seriously battle for the crown with you. Up until now. Steven Grant Rogers, son of the infamous mob boss Joseph Rogers, has suddenly chosen you as his rival. Who will be winning in the end?

Pairing: Steve x reader  

Rating: Mature

CHAPTER NO/ONESHOT: Chapter 1/5

Word; 5.9k

Warnings; swearing is standard in my works, mentions of canon-type violence 

Author; @the-goddess-of-mischief-writing

A/N: I actually started this series on a whim and all of a sudden ended up having four chapters. I really love it for some reason, maybe because it such a powerplay and I’m a hoe for that trope, especially when it’s a enemies to lovers story. Anyhow, enough of my rambling, I hope you guys enjoy this little mid week update! PSA: If you want to be tagged in the series, jus send me an ask!

SERIES MASTERLIST

Golden chains and champagne. Fancy watches and whiskey on the rocks. Whatever related to the word expensive you were associated with. Although, unlike many others in your business, you hadn't grown up in this world of luxury, nor had you inherited the empire you now were the boss of, enabling you to live the extravagance life you did. No, you were one of the few who'd worked their ass off to earn every last thing you owned.

By most, your efforts looked like a great business mind and some luck. How else could you've become a multi-millionaire on investing in stocks? But to others, those knowing the flipside of the coin, they knew your success in capitals was nothing but a cover for your stealthy work in the shadows. It was a dance, one with feline grace, that you'd performed to reach your position. A status meaning you were one of the most famous mob bosses in New York City.

When hearing mafia, most would think of the old Italian image of people smoking cigars in fedoras, with some moustache that looked similar to pencil lines on their upper lip. Those who owned cities and the whole country knew of it but could do nothing about it.

Perhaps some of these stereotypes suited the older godfathers of New York, who sat proudly on their pedestals and watched the world pass by. But you were different from them. You didn't just watch the world continue and progress by itself. You moved along with it.

You were the new generation.

Compared to the godfathers, who every last person in New York and the bordering states knew off, you had two faces. One you showed the public and one you ruled the underworld with. To society, you were spotless, a name associated with nothing but a sharp mind and benevolence to the public. But you were at the top in the underworld syndicate, the biggest of the biggest. Yet, you didn't rule with fear, simply that of uttermost respect and earned trust. In other words, your reputation or connections weren't bought. They were deserved.

Thus, compared to the older generations, your face could be recognised by a civilian or someone from the underworld, none thinking about calling the police or betraying your trust. You owned the city without it even knowing it.

It was from the way you'd reached this top in stunning silence, together with the grace you played everyone with, that you and your empire earned the alias felines. Like a tiger cub who grew into an adult, your empire was once the smallest but now the biggest. Like a lion, you evoke respect and awe no matter where you went. Like a cat no one cared about, you could cross the streets without an issue in public.

Some of the elders, at least those who were your allies, had expressed their concern of your brassiness. 'Why play cat and mouse with fate?' they often said. But you always answered the same 'I am the cat'. And it was true. Despite some of those opposed to your methods, or just you in general, took the chances they could at picking you off the map. No one ever succeeded. Solely for one reason.

Now, you deemed agreeing to one of your first ever business deals the best choice you ever made. Although it meant you financed some of the worlds leading underground tech corporation with quite some substantial coin, the panthers were nowadays always watching over you. They lingered in the shadows, disarming every try at putting a bullet through your skull.

Albeit not as famous as yourself or the organisation you ran, the Black Panther Operation the sibling pair T'Challa and Shuri operated was, in no shape or form, not impressive. They'd established themselves as the leading organisation, even if not known by half of the people in New York, in the tech area. Not only were they invaluable to the numerous politicians wanting them to work under the radar to get the upper hand on sovereign states, but they also were to you.

They hadn't only supplied you with their physical protection of their elite bodyguards, the Dora Milaje or in common-tongue known as the shadow panthers, but their tech as well. Although, compared to anyone who would've been in your position and chosen the weapons or impenetrable bodysuit that Shuri, ever the genius she was, had invented, you'd chosen one of the other assets. The cloud, the internet.

Hackers were the way forwards compared to warriors. They were the weapon of keeping you one step ahead of anyone by supplying you with the information needed to be able to hold someone's life in your hands.

It was only to look back at the countless occasions anyone tried to persuade you into a business deal you would do nothing but lose at. Thanks to Shuri having dug out the facts that could bring any of your rivals down in the dumps, you'd walked victorious away anyways.

You were certain any of the other godfathers would've killed someone for even thinking, no less trying, to propose a disreputable arrangement with them in the first place. Yet, you knew how much one ever could make a death look like a self-caused accident, that in the end, people would start to wonder why it happened to people of the same background, connected to one and the same empire. However, the former generations didn't really care about bad publicity anyway, so why would they care about lining the street with dead bodies? But the difference was you weren't them.

By all means, some would say your ways was far more torturous than a bullet between the eyes. You wouldn't agree or disagree, only say it was just. Involving a legal and judicial battle was the new way of handling conflicts, after all. It was more efficient than having to wash the blood of your name all the time, according to you. Not only that, you gained a lot more than just a dead body.

You were in somewhat of partnership with most bosses around the city. Those you weren't, rather those you'd only settled a deal with that said "as long as you kept to each of your own territory nothing would happen", did try to bend the rules and use the terror tacit. Either they targeted you personally or something equally as important in your part of the city. It could be anything that would get to you, really. But, no matter what they did, they tried to not do it themselves. Instead, hire a hitman or someone equally as bad. The problem with this was that these people's records were far from innocent, something you used to your advantage.

If you tasked Shuri to find anything and everything these people had done, it was easy to find a person they'd wronged and who sought revenge or justification. The only thing you did was play your hand well, usually meaning you pulled some strings and supply the money. While T'Challa, as the expert he was on it, handed out the information his sister had gathered to reliable sources. Your collaboration made the person you hunted sit opposite someone from their past in a courtroom. Most of the times, they also lost the case.

Choosing to do this rather than go rampage and fire your gun aimlessly meant you settled as a second, or sometimes even third or four-hand source to what went down. So not only did your name remain clear despite answering a rivals offence, your involvement was nearly impossible to track as well. Thus, you could take down five of a rivals' men while they only took one of yours.

Despite one could call you out on hypocrisy, saying that the shadow panthers protecting you didn't own the same benevolence and were quick and silent in their killing, there was one reason you didn't care about the fact. Currently, they may be under a shared command, but their never-ending allegiance was always towards the founders of the Black Panther Operation. If either Shuri or T'Challa said stand back or decided to cut their deal with you, the shadow panther's protection would disappear. The same went if you chose to rip the contract.

However, it was a slim chance that either of the siblings or you would terminate your arrangement. Seeing how now, years later, you still were the sole person working a continuous agreement with them. That was why nowadays, your and theirs organisations were nearly associated as the same by most in the underworld.

Your style of ruling New York and living such different lives in the light and dark made others in your profession joke you were the sole one with an ordinary life. That you were no traditional mafia, simply a highly functioning business-orientated company that invested in stocks. However, both you and everyone around you knew that wasn't true. The reason? You weren't afraid to use every last of your assets to remain in control of your empire. Whatever it took.

And that was a promise someone the last months had put up to the test.

You don't know what set it off, perhaps the old saying of cats and dogs never working well together. Or that because you were at the top drew enough confidence out of someone to try and knock you down. For whatever reason, someone decided to start a ruckus with you.

It had begun small enough you had no idea that someone was behind it. Connections or deals with companies connected to your empire backing out of contracts in the last seconds, saying they got a better offer. The word secrecy, frequently used for ones own safety in the world you lived in, was a term you'd heard enough times by now to grow tired of. It was no significant agreements, seeing how you were well enough to not care about money, but it was plenty bothersome for your pride.

The next step in the escalation had been dealings slightly more important than a question of money, which was your territory and thereby also safety. You still had some meetings with a few godfathers, had fore some time actually. It was mostly those who once had opposed you in the days you weren't a threat or those who just tried to live secludedly enough that they died by natural causes rather than in a cell or from rivalry.

Each of those conferences had been about securing your grip on Manhattan. Primarily to obtain some neighbourhoods closest to Harlem Park and the northern part of the Inwood neighbourhood. Both of which currently was in some sort of grey zone. Meaning neither owned by them nor you. Although those areas were still not written as yours, concerning how those old bosses abruptly didn't seem to want to seal any deals that they weeks ago had agreed on.

Then you'd entered the third stage. The one that made you understand all these cancellations wasn't merely coincidence, but somebody working against you. People from both your closest crew and the Black Panther section had been disappearing. It wasn't uncommon. Your business was nothing but personal feelings and wants most of the times. However, concerning how few men and women you'd lost under your watch, this sudden increase was off-putting.

Closer to the truth was something like this had never happened to this extent before. You hadn't had people close to you or anyone associated with you abducted. However, the worst thing was that the bodies of those disappearing were never not found bloody or in a morgue.

Money or failing to persuade old godfathers wasn't something you took personal, but when people started dropping like flies around you, that you took personally. Hence, you, Shuri and T'Challa worked endlessly on finding who was behind it.

Almost every time, you found the culprit of the act, but not the big boss behind it all. Disabling you from taking more than one person out of play. That your jaw hadn't broken for how much you'd clenched it in frustration, or your teeth shattered from the amount you gritted them was a mystery. You hunted the person ordering these things, yet with no success.

Although one day, when one of the subordinates in your very own team had been missing for a week returned, barely clinging to their consciousness, you'd gotten to know who this new rival of yours was.

Steven Grant Rogers.

The canines, an alias for the Rogers family, were equally known as any of the old US President in the underworld in New York. If one hadn't heard of them in your profession, it was more likely that you already were dead or not in it all because they were notorious.

They'd ruled Brooklyn with an iron fist and was probably the crown specimen of the reputation that accompanied the word mafia. There was a grace in their affairs and killing. But compared to your work, which was performed in shadows and silence, they flaunted it, not scared of running from the police because they already knew they never would be caught.

From what you knew, they'd fallen off somewhat after Joseph Rogers, the head of the Canine Empire, died in one of the rivalries between mobs. His death had been years before you were even born, close to an age it was as high of a chance he could've passed from natural causes. Still, the commotion and continuous dispute following his disappearance and the unclear leadership had served as a fall for the Canine Empire. There was no doubt your rise to the same amount of power as the former union possessed would've been as easy if you'd had them as your opponents.

However, now, it seemed like the past would haunt you down in the form of Joseph Rogers son.

Albeit you never met the new boss of the Canines, there was no doubt you considered, for the first time, to personally put a bullet through someone's head. Steven Grant Rogers was as ruthless as stories told his father had been. He'd even been labelled the golden boy of Brooklyn, rumoured to restore the brutal power of the Canine Empire. Yet, the spot he was reaching for with old alliances regrouping to boost him to the top was a position you currently occupied.

This is where the difference between if you'd had a regular business organisation and the domain you now did, settled in. You went on total offense.

You contacted T'Challa and Shuri, calling them in for a meeting. Even though the pair knew of what had happened so far, they were your partners and thus, you would discuss the actions you would take with them, even if your deal said nothing of that sort. But you knew, compared to your rival, it seemed, how important it was to hold onto your closest allies with other methods than fear and the threat of death. And thus, you also received the help of a friend rather than a business partner.

It must've been the bloodiest month in the last decade from the rivalry that blossomed up between the Felines and Canines the second you started to answer the new top dog's advances. You got reports that the shadow panthers watching your back had cleared more people putting you up as a target than in a long time. As well, did more of the people under your name end up red in back allies.

Then it shifted. As soon as you started getting trails of more people than just the executioners, you were suddenly able to take out divisions of his minions. And while the killing went on, you started winning the big battles. In other words, while Steven continued to play it hard, you started to play smart.

You cut off deals he could do in Brooklyn, much harsher and unforgiving than his initials ones on your side of the East River. It was everything from supplies, to money, to the extra set of eyes. Everything to limit him to sources you knew he wouldn't be happy with having to resort to. While handling this, with the help from Shuri, you also broadened your search to find every little dirty-worker under the mob boss's command. Thanks to those now operating for you on the Brooklyn side, you helped people who'd had a past with Steven's men tip police of and capture them.

Pawn by pawn, you lessened the number of ways the Canine boss could run in taking down your empire. You had him cornered, already several moves ahead of him whatever he chose to do. Only, it was one step you thought he never would do that, in the end, made everything come to a skidding halt.

He'd requested a parley.

"Y'know I don't really like the idea of you meeting him", you didn't look up from the papers you currently were reading to look at Shuri where she lounged on your office's couch.

Though it felt like you should examine the folder that rested in your handbag     -the one containing the event plans for the charity event you would host for the many high society individuals and governors, or anyone with money really, in two weeks- those documents weren't the ones you were looking through now.

It was five days ago since Steven had asked for the parlay. Ever since then, you'd worked on the deal you would offer him. You had no desire to sign whatever he would hand to you. And you knew he would propose something. The Canine boss was the challenger, after all. Even more so, the one requesting a meeting from the start. Thus, he, for one, would offer something to cease your continuous confrontations and two, he would try to drag you down while elevating himself. That you couldn't have.

"I know", you finally responded when having read the side you were on in the contract you had put together for your rival. "Still, I want to hear what the man has to say so I can stop losing resources, time and people", you turned to the next page as you said this.

There came no response immediately despite that you felt Shuri was looking at you. You'd gotten good at noticing this, someone observing you. Hence, even though the best of the panthers always were safeguarding you somewhere in the crowds, it never hurt to not solely depend on others for your own safety. Because that was what your constantly high attentiveness was for anyways. To always be keen on your surroundings and try to detect someone's move before they did it.

"It's almost interesting to see someone challenge you for the position of being the big boss, Lekati", it wasn't only at the reserved nickname Shuri used that caught your attention. The rest of what she'd said also made you pause mid-turn of the last page, eyes automatically shifting to her.

Now, instead of sprawling across the piece of furniture the women occupied, she sat upright with a smile ghosting her lips. Your eyes narrowed as you noted this.

"Oh, stop imagining using your sharp claws on me".

"I wasn't".

"You're a bad liar when you want to be", the tech mogul pointed out with a finger directed towards you. Your features stayed indifferent despite the fact that her remark had been correct.

"When will your brother be back?" The dark-haired women cocked a brow at your sudden change of topic.

"Any minute, I suppose, why?"

"He's more pleasant to have around while I try to work, less chatty", an incredulous snort left Shuri as she crossed her arms, leaning back against the couch's backside. Her reaction made your stoic facade drop somewhat, causing the side of your mouth to tug upwards. It was an act she caught and couldn't help but shake her head at.

"I never get tired of not knowing whether you're about to send half of the city after me or simply are in a playing mood", your repressed smile bloomed into a fully-fledged one, amused by Shuri's comment.

"Opt for the latter for as long as those couple of hundred thousand dollars are rolling into your account". Averting your eyes from the women you were speaking to, you once again inspected the bunch of papers before you. 

Having worked on them for days and ever since this morning re-reading the contract, you knew it was worded to perfection. There were no loopholes nor any unnecessary losses for either part. So, for as long as Steven didn't belong to the old saying of 'it’s hard to learn an old dog to sit', you knew his signature would decorate the last page. 

"However, you should worry about the day when the money is missing", you hummed while stacking the papers orderly, putting them back into the same folder they'd been stored since you'd gotten the paper copies of the transcript.

"Would that be my sign to start running?" You looked up again, instantly meeting Shuri's humoured look.

"It would probably be too late", you shrugged nonchalantly, placing the folder you would have to the meeting in your handbag in a swift motion while swivelling your chair to face her, rather than your desk as you'd done previously. As a chuckle was heard from the dark-haired woman, you crossed one leg over the other and leaned back in your seat.

"It's good that I'm your ally and not your foe".

"Good to hear you view yourself as a friend. Was fearing you would switch sides to my challenger's", you mused, arms coming to prop up against your armrest to support your head when you tilted it.

"I never would, even if I knew he had a chance to win", even though feeling somewhat relieved - because this world and one's alliances could change fast, no matter current contracts or friendships- when Shuri said this, you wouldn't show it. Therefore, instead of smiling at her belief that Steven had no chance of beating you at a game you had been the best player at for years, you simply kept observing the woman as she stood from the couch.

The young tech mogul started to make her way closer to you, a slight sheerness in her step that impersonated the glint in her eye. And you understood why for when she opened her mouth to speak.

"But you can't deny it's interesting someone is seriously trying to take you down", you rolled your eyes while you let your hand fall to tap against your thigh.

"Seems like you're more excited about it than me", you started, spinning your chair slowly to follow Shuri as she settled partly on the empty edge of your desk. She looked expectantly at you, waiting for an answer despite your deflection of it initially. For once, purely because of the topic, you complied. "But no, I definitely do not find it interesting", you sighed out.

"Oh, come on, Lekati...".

"Stop with the nickname", you cut her off with a roll of your eyes. However, instead of earning the quick nod of confirmation to follow your exasperated order, the dark-haired women grinned. Perhaps if it was anyone else than Shuri, you would've been irritated and sent them out of your office, but concerning you viewed her more as a friend than a simple job partner, you did neither when her teasing continued.

"Has the dog really gotten that much under your skin?" She chuckled. "Must be the first one... ever. Or correct me if I'm wrong?" You simply dropped your head and shook it. The young women were right and she knew she was. Steven was the sole one able to make you nearly lose your footing ever since claiming the crown of the underworld.

"Why couldn't he just stay put?" You mumbled under your breath, thumb smoothing out the wrinkles having settled between your brows. "We'd never heard of him before. Why decide to make himself known now all of a sudden? After years of silence?"

"Some men seek the satisfaction of bringing entities down, especially if they ruled it before and now it's overtaken by a woman", you looked up at Shuri. But instead of meeting her gaze, your eyes fell to the piece of paper she held up. Evidently, she'd plucked your Cartier pen and a sticky note from the stack always resting on your desk and written three letters on the piece of paper while you spoke. You, it stood on it.

"Thank you for the flattery", you replied, reaching forward to snatch the note from her. "But I would've prefered if Rogers hadn't, would spare me the task of crushing his ego", the brown-eyed women chuckled at that.

"Maybe he needs to take yours down a step or two too", you stood from your chair as she said this, dropping the slightly crumpled note you'd taken from her into the bin under your desk, then starting to head towards the mirror you had in your office.

"I don't have an ego. I simply know my self-worth".

"Sounds a lot like you're bordering on narcissism", she said in a sing-song voice. "Maybe you and his pride can go on a date. I bet they would rule New York happily ever after", you couldn't suppress a chuckle at Shuri's words, whether you wanted to show how absolutely hilariously unbelievable it was or not.

"Can't your brother come and save me from your antics?" You muttered, spotting the smile the genius behind you sported in the mirror. It was meant for her to hear, so you weren't shocked when she responded to the banter.

"I actually prefer his absence. The two of you together nearly drown me in the seriousness", Shuri complained dramatically. You amusedly rolled your eyes before settling to look at your chosen attire.

Compared to how far away you stood from tradition in the godfather's senses, it was one custom you fulfilled like the rest of them. You believed that the clothes made the man. And, for a meeting like the one you soon would go to, you didn't hesitate to strive for that effect.

You knew Steven was old fashioned. Everything he did cried it. So, of course, you would try to throw him off at every point you could. The skirt and dress were switched out for a suit, midnight black. It was a loose fit and probably matched the high-end fashion more than traditional meeting standards, but you didn't genuinely worry. You were here to show you are the new generation and wouldn't budge because you were the sole women in New York running a syndicate. Doing the best job at it as well.

However, if the man you would meet would frown upon women in a suit, the lace bodysuit, black as well, you wore instead of a dress shirt would probably give him a heart attack. It covered enough but were in no way domesticated and left the upper part of your chest bare. It was a great way to show off the two thin chains of gold decorating your neck.

For some reason, your eyes lingered on the golden metal shining from the light trickling into your office. You started to fiddle with the necklace then, concentrating on how they weren't cold but rather heated up from your body temperature.

You became lost in your own world, fingers splaying over the hollow in your throat to absentmindedly play with the chains there while you thought about the meeting that was rapidly coming closer.

The action, together with the far-away look you stared at your movement in the mirror, was something that caught Shuri's attention.

"Relax", instantly your eyes flickered up to watch her in the mirror's reflective surface as if snapped from a daze. She'd shifted, so she now sat on the front of your desk, head turned in your direction. "It'll go good".

"Wasn't it you who said that you didn't want me to meet him in the first place?" You began to challenge her words of reassurance, hand falling from your skin to instead hang by your side. Not until you'd turned and cocked your brow at her did you continue. "That must insinuate you don't think it will go good", she simply shrugged when you said this.

"I did say I don't like his sudden call for a conference and that you accepted it in the first place", she began, crossing her feet at the ankle and looking down at the movement momentarily before her gaze found yours once more. "But that doesn't mean I don't think it will go good. I know it will. You're good at your job", you smiled at that. You already knew that you worked great under pressure, or else you wouldn't be standing on top of the empire you ruled. Although, it was always comforting to hear it from someone else.

Fittingly, in the next second, a knock on your door echoed in the room, effectively putting an end to your previous conversation with the women perched on your desk.

"Enter", you called without hesitating, as soon as both your and Shuri's attention also turned to the entrance. The guard stationed outside of your room didn't need to inform you of who'd wanted to enter. You already knew it was T'Challa. And as the guard opened the heavy door to your office and held it open for whoever had requested it, indeed it was Shuri's brother stepping through the doorway.

You didn't more than slightly tip your head to acknowledge the guard's nod of respect your way before he closed the door. Primarily because you spotted the slate grey folder the older of the children of T'Chaka held. It was the call about the seemingly insignificant object being completed that had interrupted the earlier discussion you, Shuri and T'Challa had. Your assemblage hadn't been much more than some minor last discussions and to wait for the folder the man now walking through the room held. Thus the portfolio contained a report, the ultimate attempt of finding anything that could aid you in the meeting with Steven.

"Anything good?" You skipped the unnecessary greetings as you gestured to the portfolio in T'Challa's hand while walking closer to your desk, which also was where he was heading.

"Look for yourself", when he said this, the brown-eyed mad held out the folder for you to take. You did but didn't open it until you'd rounded the counter and sat down in your chair again.

You didn't know what you'd expected to meet you, but a photo and a single sheet of paper weren't it.

For a moment, you stared at the picture resting on top of the report underneath it. Presumably, it should've been a photo of Steven sitting in some club. Although it was blurry and had no great exposure, which made it impossible to tell much about his appearance. Still, you knew it was him or else the picture wouldn't be here. However, it did nothing to help you paint a picture of the man which name so far seemed to be faceless.

Putting the picture to the side, you quickly started to eye the document. You scanned it, finding it contained random facts citing what properties the Canine boss had invested in, even owned. Apparently, Steven managed several clubs, which would explain why his first suggestion of a meeting place had been just that. Other than that, he owned some other businesses that wasn't much to cheer for. All infected by alcohol and drugs by the looks and names. Classical.

"This all?" You finally questioned after turning the sheet over, finding the backside blank. When glancing up, you saw T'Challa nodding. You clenched your jaw and looked back down at the paper.

Ever since Steven had asked for an official meeting, between your eyes only, as his message had been clear to state, you'd requested for the siblings to find out whatever they could about him. You wanted the advantage you knew he couldn't get over you. Thus, what was publicly known of you wasn't anything to hide. And frankly, he was more than welcome to read the articles that had written things about you. Yet, every secret of yours, or anything you'd deemed unfitting for anyone to know, had been wiped. No one could ever find something about you that you didn't want on the internet. Though, it seemed you weren't the only one sitting on resources like that.

Albeit the "new mob boss" was discussed in several articles, Steven's name had no face in any of them. In general, there was no picture of him or much information to track him down by either. So, despite your best efforts, now it seemed you didn't have much more than your hunch to go on during the meeting.

"I do not think it's wise to meet him", T'Challa said, much like his sister had earlier. With a sigh, you leaned back in your chair, fingers releasing the paper you'd gripped to pinch the bridge of your nose instead.

"Neither of you wants me to meet him, do you?" At first, silence met you, which made you look up the sibling pair. They shared a glance before Shuri turned slightly to look at you and her brother crossed his arms.

"No", they said simultaneously, which made you huff.

"I may like it as little as you two, but it put a temporary pause to the conflict. And if he comes to accept my terms, maybe that will remain".

"And what if he doesn't?" T'Challa inquired, receiving a frown from his sister, while you simply tilted your head down to look at your watch. "What if he refuses to tuck tail?" He continued to push.

"He won't", you stated, rising up from your chair, handbag now in your grip. It was three minutes until your driver would be here, so you needed to start heading down to the spot he would pick you up in. Yet, you were stopped in your tracks by a hand gripping your upper arm lightly.

"But what if?"

"T'Challa!" Shuri hissed at the unrespectful way her brother insisted on having his questions answered. She'd shot up from where she up until now had remained seated but before she could drag the man staring down at you with insistent eyes away, your raised the hand of your free arm. It stopped the younger women's movement, merely making her watch you and T'Challa.

There was a reason the siblings were able to run their tech operation as smoothly as they did. They complemented each other. What one lacked, the other possessed. For example, Shuri may own the belief everything was possible, then naturally, her brother would be more cautious. As in this instance. Hence, you didn't take any great offence to the dark-haired man's action, despite that your aloof tone could imply such a thing.

"What if he doesn't accept my deal after having me listen to whatever godawful settlement he offers me? Then I've kept my promise on meeting him for the parley he requested and one, which in the end, unfortunately, didn't establish an accord. Henceforth, our war will continue", you said, instantly feeling how T'Challa's hand fell from holding you back. Yet, you didn't pursue your track to the pick up you already was late for. Not until you assured him of one last thing. 

"Let me remind you that he was the one that asked me for a meeting, not the other way around. He asked me for a temporary truce and a chance to negotiate. In the end, that shows who's the most desperate to settle an agreement, no matter the terms".

Translation:

Lekati = Kitten

[sammysdewysensitiveeyes]

Back again, with my opinions that no one asked for.  This time, it’s my takes on the animated versions of Pyro.

1. X-Men: The Animated Series Pyro

This, this is my boy right here.  Look at this dork with his terrible 70′s fluffy hair, hanging out at the bar with his not-so-hetero life-partner Avalanche.  This was my first introduction to the character (in fact, the cartoon was my first introduction to X-Men in general, and sent me down the path of reading comics). 

This version of Pyro is an established career criminal and professional lackey, usually working for Mystique but not above a bit of robbery or kidnapping on the side if he’s bored.  He and Avalanche are presented as buddies who have probably been working together for awhile.  They first show up in the episode “The Cure,” hanging out on Muir Island waiting for Mystique to give  them orders, then completely screwing up Mystique’s plans when they decide to kidnap the scientist Dr. Adler for extra cash . Apparently Mystique can’t leave them to their own devices for even a day.  

Pyro also hilariously tries to flirt with Rogue by setting a chair on fire and making a bad pun.  It goes about as well as you’d expect:

Get your hands off of her, Pyro, she is too good for you.  (The best part about this is, I don’t think he even used his powers here?  He just tried to impress Rogue as “guy with a flamethrower,” rather than “fire-controlling mutant.”  No wonder she throws his dumb ass through the wall.)

Pyro and Avalanche both show up again later, alongside Blob, creating a distraction so that Mystique can try to assassinate Senator Kelly in the animated series version of the Days of Future Past storyline.  In a much later episode, the same trio cause trouble again to lure the X-Men out so that Mystique can try to win Rogue back to their side.  That episode feels out of continuity to the rest of the series, since a flashback shows Rogue previously working with the Brotherhood (alongside Pyro and Avalanche), but none of them recognize each other when they “first meet” in “The Cure.”  I can assume that maybe Rogue lost her memories in the trauma of absorbing Ms. Marvel, but I don’t know what Pyro and Avalanche’s excuse is.  Frequent head injuries?  Maybe they’re both just really dumb? 

I am fond of TAS Pyro, and he’s probably the closest to comics Pyro out of the animated adaptations, despite being portrayed as British rather than Australian.  He looks fairly similar to his comics counterpart, and fulfills the same role of being a hired pain-in-the-ass that annoys the X-Men, mostly for money, as well as being Avalanche’s BFF.  He’s also clearly a full-grown, experienced adult who’s probably somewhere in his thirties at least, which is about the age I estimate for comics Pyro.  He’s kinda dumb, but practical.  He just wants to commit crimes with Avalanche, get paid, and run away before the X-Men can beat him up.  That’s a reasonable dream, right? 

X-Men Evolution Pyro:

Well, at least the guy loves his work.  I give him an “A” for enthusiasm.

I have mixed feelings about this Pyro.  He’s a lot of fun, but not really the Pyro I know and love from the comics.  This Pyro is one of Magneto’s Acolytes rather than a member of the Brotherhood, working alongside Gambit, Colossus and Sabretooth.  He really, REALLY enjoys setting things on fire, and doesn’t seem to care who gets hurt in the process.  Or rather, he seems to also enjoy people getting hurt, and tends to laugh maniacally while torching things, to the point of seeming really unbalanced.  I can’t tell if he’s completely detached from reality and is viewing things like a video game, without a real understanding of consequences, or if he knows exactly what he’s doing, and just likes to hurt people.  Either way, Evo Pyro seems much less stable than comic book Pyro, who can also be pretty wild and over-the-top in his fights and probably enjoys fire a little too much, but still acts an an overall rational person. 

Meanwhile, Evo Pyro repeatedly watches a video of Magneto seeming to die and laughs hysterically at it:

He is delighted when Wolverine shows up looking for a fight (because he was “bored out of his skull,”), and seems disappointed when Wolverine leaves abruptly afterwards.  It’s interesting that, after Magneto’s apparent death (not really) in Evolution, the other Acolytes all go off on their own, but Pyro hangs out alone in their base, as if he doesn’t really have a life to go back to, or any real identity outside of being “Pyro.”  When the series ends, he is shown in the future as having joined the Brotherhood (with Toad, Scarlet Witch, Quicksilver, Blob and Avalanche), apparently working for SHIELD in some kind of Freedom Force style team.  I’d like to imagine that he’s super cheerful and friendly when he first joins up, and they are all a little bit terrified of him. 

The character design is different, but looks pretty good for a re-imagining of the character.  They’ve remembered the most important aspects of Pryo, namely “scrawny,” “fire colors,” and “crazy blond hair all over the place.”  He also seems to be actually Australian, judging by him using the term “down under” at one point.  In fitting with the “teen X-Men” theme of Evolution, this Pyro looks very young.  If the Brotherhood are all in high school, Pyro looks like he’s college age, like a couple of years older at most.

Like I said, Evo Pyro is fun, and surprisingly popular (I find a lot of Evo Pyro fan-stuff when I’m looking for comics Pyro), but it kinda feels like he got shafted, story-wise.  In both this series and Wolverine and the X-Men, cartoons where the Brotherhood got a bigger role and more development, Pyro didn’t make the cut as a Brotherhood member and wound up in a minor role as an Acolyte.  He feels kind of under-developed, and is mostly there to either be menacing or comic relief. 

Wait a minute....menacing....comic-relief....under-developed.......laughs hysterically at violence......

Maybe Duggan has actually been writing Evolution Pyro in Marauders this whole time?

I don’t want to take anything away from fans of Evo Pyro, but I kinda wonder what we could have gotten if he’d been a Bayville high school student and part of the more sympathetic teen Brotherhood.  Would he have a better developed character?  Would they have made him an annoying twerp like Toad (I say that with great affection, Toad is probably my favorite Evo character) or a smug secretly-insecure hot-shot like Quicksilver?  Or anger issues like Evo Avalanche?  Would they let him keep his original name and nationality, or would he be an American teen with a cutesy on-the-nose name like Ash Embers or Flameo Hotman?    We’ll never know!

Wolverine and the X-Men Pyro:

Again an Acolyte rather than a Brotherhood member, this Pyro has even less development than Evo Pyro.  He shows up in the first episode being rescued from the Mutant Response Division (along with Boom Boom, Dust, and others).  In that scene, he’s clearly meant to be Australian (saying “mate,”), and appears to be on friendly terms with Boom Boom and Dust.  Later on Genosha, he seems to be one of Magneto’s guards/lackeys, and doesn’t appear to mind Dust being thrown in prison.  He’s either a true believer, or is mercenary and practical-minded like comics Pyro, and has decided that following Magneto is his best chance for survival,  Pyro does apologize to Nightcrawler and offer a quick “Nothing personal,” when Magneto sends the Acolytes after him, so maybe he doesn’t revel in his work the same way Evo Pyro does.  The only other notable thing he does is get in trouble for telling Lorna news about Wanda going missing (Magneto is pissed enough to throw him into a cell for that), so I assume that this Pyro is also a massive gossip.  It’s the best I can do with what very little we get of him.  The X-Men don’t seem to have any issue with Pyro (or even recognize him) when they first rescue him, so I’m guessing that he didn’t have any criminal history before joining Magneto in Genosha?  Unlike TAS series Pyro, who’s overall attitude is, “Be gay, do crimes!  And by crimes, I mean arson and kidnapping!” 

I’m not fond of this design.  It’s a nice updated look, and really more stylish than what he’s worn in the comics, but the hair is too douche-bag frat-boy for me, and I can’t get past the little soul-patch on his chin.  Shave that nonsense, Pyro, you can’t pull off facial hair.  He looks older than Evo Pyro but younger than comics Pyro - maybe mid-to-late 20′s? 

This Pyro is sadly kinda forgettable.  I’m not sure why Pyro got largely skipped over as a Brotherhood member in later X-Men cartoons, but the fact that the character was long dead in the comics by the time the cartoons aired probably had something to do with it.  Kinda sad that they wasted the potential they could have gotten out of teen Bobby vs. teen Pyro in Evolution, though. 

(Come to think of it, Gambit got similarly shafted in Evolution and Wolverine and the X-Men, since they pushed him into a minor recurring side-character role.  At least in the original X-Men TAS, Gambit actually got to be an X-Man and main character.)  

Obviously, TAS Pyro is my favorite out of these, but I don’t want to step on anyone’s toes.  Nothing wrong with being a fan of Evo Pyro or even the barely there WatXM Pyro, they’re all good!

[hoboal87]

Elastic Heart Chapter One

Elastic Heart Chapter One

Characters: Y/N Y/L/N, Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, John Winchester, OFCs

Pairing(s): None

Summary: Y/N Y/L/N sees a familiar set of eyes in the crowd, and remembers the first time she saw them and how they changed her life.

Word Count: 4300+

Warnings: Show level violence, cursing, pre-Stanford era Winchesters

Notes: Series will be mostly canon compliant, taking place during season 8/9. Also, for purposes of this fic Sam was born in '84 instead of '83.

Please give a comment or reblog and let me know what you think!

Elastic Heart Masterlist

Chapter One - Senior Year

“Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N”

I don’t hear my name being called, I’m in my own world, looking out into the crowd for a set of familiar eyes. I spot them three rows back and smile. It’s been too long since I’ve seen them, and I miss the days where I would see those eyes nearly every day.

Life as a nursing student consists of going to class, lab work, interning at a hospital, and occasionally sleeping. I’ve spent the past two years doing nothing but that. I’ve always been one to do things early, but this was the one thing that, for once, I was on par with my peers. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. From the first time I saw those eyes, they altered my life, sending me down a path that I never planned to be on. Taking longer than we had thought, but eventually, I got back on track.

Finish school and get my fresh start. That had been my goal for the past two years. Move on, with or without those eyes in my life. I wanted them, but I knew that logically, it couldn’t happen. Our lives were too different, especially now. I lost my chance of having them with me always; now, I could only cherish the holidays and long weekends that allowed us to be together.

“Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N,” the announcer’s voice contains a bit of urgency this time, drawing my attention. I step across the stage, shaking my supervisor’s hand, and receive my metaphorical diploma. I look back out into the audience and connect with those eyes again, wide and filled with joy. I take my seat and think back to the first time I saw them and how they changed my life forever.

Fall, 2002

This was it, the first day of my senior year. This is the year I will prove to everyone that I am no longer a kid. This is the year, mom and dad will see that I can act like an adult and make ‘good choices’ but, I’m determined to have just a little fun.

For the last two years, mom and dad have insisted that I take extra courses and go to summer school to ensure I graduate not only with good grades but early. I’ll graduate in the spring and be off to college in the fall. All I really want is to wait, take a year or two, experience life outside of my parents’ house.

I make the point to do as many high school activities as I can. Activities that they discouraged me from doing for the last two years; choir, volleyball, anything that will get me out of the house but still considered a school activity. I joined the decorating committee, wanting to participate in homecoming as much as possible. I know as long as I do nothing life-altering, I’m gonna be free in May.

“Be mindful of your grades, Y/N,” dad said, reading over all the consent forms, “if they slip, you will need to cut these extracurricular activities.”

“They won’t slip, dad.” I roll my eyes. “It’s my last year, let me have a bit of fun, please?”

“Your average drops below an A, and I’m pulling you out of each one of these clubs, understood?”

“Yes, sir.” I mull over telling him the other part of my plan. “I was… thinking about getting a job.” I look down, not wanting to make eye contact. “Something part-time?”

“I don’t think that’s the best idea, Y/N,” mom enters the room, “You’re going to be so busy already, tell her Rob.”

“Your mother has a point, and if they accept you to all these clubs, when will you even have time?”

“I may not even end up in the choir or the volleyball team,” I argue, “and if I don’t I’ll have a free period every day, I can talk to the counselor about making it my last class and—it’s my Senior Year, please, don’t you guys think I deserve a little more credit than this? I should get to experience a little bit of independence, don’t you think? I’m gonna be away at college in a year, I’m probably gonna have some on-campus job, I need to learn how to balance between the two.” I catch my breath, hoping that they will agree.

“Fine,” dad sighs heavily, “the same deal goes. Your grades slip, no more working. Am I making myself clear?”

“Yes!” I throw my arms around him, “Thank you!”

“Maybe you could get a job at the clinic,” mom chimes in, “get some experience in the field?”

“I don’t think anyone wants a sixteen-year-old working at the clinic, Sarah. Maybe at the drugstore, though?”

“Yeah,” I sit on the couch, “maybe.”

I discreetly start looking at apartments that could be for rent after graduation. I look on the outskirts of town and find a garage apartment that a very sweet older lady agrees to rent to me if it is still unoccupied over the summer. Finding a job gets put on the back burner as the school year moves into full swing. It turns out I can’t sing, and I suck at volleyball, but the coach offers me the position of manager, allowing me to still participate with the team at pep rallies and travel with them on away games. As the season comes to a close, and with Thanksgiving break around the corner, I decide it’s time to actively look for a job.

The trouble is finding someone willing to hire a 16-year-old high school student with no experience. I try some local retail stores, but I know that mom and dad will never go for the hours they want me to work. I walk into Joe’s Burgers, my favorite place to get some dinner and continue looking through the classifieds.

“Hey, Y/N/N,” I look over and wave to the man behind the counter.

“Hey, Dan, can I get a Bacon—"

“Your usual?” he cuts me off, smiling.

“Yes, please,” I look down sheepishly, handing him the exact amount of money without being told the total.

“Whatcha got there?” he nods towards the paper that’s now on the counter as he hands me my receipt.

“Oh, I’m just looking for a job,” I tuck the paper under my arms. “Need to earn some money so I can get outta this town after graduation.”

“What’s wrong with the town,” his face grows serious, “I’ve lived here my whole life.”

“Shit—I mean, n-nothing. Fuck."

“Y/N/N!” Dan bursts into laughter, “I’m just messing with you! You think you’re the first person who hates living here? We’re a small-ass town in the middle of nowhere.”

“You’re such a jerk,” I say, relieved, “I’ll be in my spot, okay?” He tries to contain his laughter as I walk away, making my way to my usual table. I flip through the pages, seeing nothing that would really work for me.

“You know Joe has been talking about hiring another cashier,” Dan says, bringing my food over, “and you’re practically here all the time anyway, you may as well make some money while you’re at it. You want me to talk to him?”

“Really? Do you think he’d hire me? I can’t stay late on week-nights because of school, mom and dad would kill me.”

“Yeah, we need someone to work the register, Jana can’t do it all herself. Whaddya think?”

“Oh, my god Dan, that would be amazing!” I get up and throw my arms around him to give him a hug. I watch as Dan walks to the back of the restaurant, after a few minutes he returns, giving me the thumbs-up. Before I leave, he gives me paperwork to fill out and a uniform, telling me to return the next day for training.

For three days, I train, working with Jana on the register. She is a few years older than me, with absolutely no filter. She always has me hunched over, laughing at something she has said or done. The lunches are busier than usual with the break. On Friday, she decides it’s time to leave me on my own, ‘best way to learn,’ she quips.

I’ve never been a social butterfly, and the thought of having to deal with customers on my own genuinely terrifies me for a few moments. After giving myself a small pep talk, I turn around to see three large men waiting for me.

The shortest of the three looks at me, and leans over the counter, “I’m here, what are your other two wishes?” he asks, flashing me a wink.

“I’m sorry?” I can’t believe this guy is serious.

“My brother and I were wondering,” he gestures to the tallest of the three, “if it hurt when you fell from heaven?”

“W-what?” I feel the heat pooling in my cheeks.

“Dean, knock it off, we’re here to work.” the older man behind him smacks him upside his head, and I have to stifle my laughter. He offers a sympathetic smile toward me.

“Did your mother drop you on your head when you were a baby?” I shot back; it was the only thing I could think of, albeit an awful comeback.

“It’s okay, just blink if you want me,” I stare straight into those green eyes for a solid 10 seconds before turning away.

“Dean, leave the girl alone, how old are you doll?” he asks, turning to me.

“Sixteen,” I say, watching as he rolls his eyes at the other two.

“See, are you trying to go to jail, son?” he says, looking at me apologetically “I’m sorry my sons are two walking hormones.”

“I didn’t even say anything!” the tall one huffs. Green-eyes shrugs and rubs the back of his head.

“Don’t even Sam, I heard you when we walked in.” Their dad grabs them by the shirts and drags them both to stand in front of me. I couldn’t believe my eyes, this man grabbing his two grown sons like they were pre-teens, “Now apologize to…” he looks at my name tag, “… Y/N.”

“Sorry, sweetheart, didn’t mean to offend you,” Green-eyes says insincerely.

“That’s fine, it’s part of the job, learning to deal with frat boys who love to mess with townies,” I smile back curtly.

“What the fu—” green-eyes is clearly trying to contain his anger, but his dad chuckles at the remark, and his brother can hardly control himself.

“Yeah, frat boy, don’t mess with the townie,” the younger one laughs, pushing his shaggy brown hair away from his face, revealing gleaming hazel eyes flecked with hints of green and blue surrounded by dark full lashes.

“Listen, Y/N,” green-eyes looks at my name tag again, “we ain’t no frat boys, in fact, we’re here becau—”

“All right, Dean, that’s enough.” His dad gives him a stern look that is clearly a silent conversation. “Since we’re off to such a wonderful start, let’s start over, yeah?”

I nod politely. These guys are clearly passing through and will be gone in a matter of hours or days, but Joe wants us to make all people, even the ones we’ll probably never see again, feel welcome.

“I’m John, you already know Dean,” he reaches his hand out towards the tall one, “and this is Sam. We’re actually looking into the recent animal-related deaths,” he says, producing a Fish and Wildlife Badge. I study it for a moment before handing it back. “We’re interviewing some of the local business owners and residents in the area of the attacks. Have you heard or seen anything usual, smelled anything weird, anything that comes to mind?”

“Oh.” I look at the three men; here I was being a bitch to the people trying to help. “Um, I just started working here a few days ago, animal attacks?” I look back up to John, who nods. “The only animals around here are coyotes, but even they’re pretty rare. I haven’t heard anything, but I keep to myself. Joe might know something, he’s the owner and knows everything about everyone.” I offer a smile.

“Is Joe in today?” John asks. His grey eyes hold so much pain as he looks at me.

“Um… yeah. He may have a few minutes now that we’ve slowed down. I can see if he can come talk to you?”

“That’d be great, thanks, Y/N.”

“Please, Y/N/N,” I say, blushing, covering my nametag, “No one really calls me Y/N.”

“Y/N/N,” he repeats, “I’d really like to speak with Joe if it’s not a problem.”

“Yeah, shit. Let me go get him,” I say, walking towards the back. “Hey Jana, I’m gonna go get Joe. Watch the register?”

“I got it,” she hollers back.

“Dude! She’s 16!” I hear who I assume is Sam whispering loudly. “Shut up! How was I supposed to know that?!”

“Dean, she’s obviously not 18. Stick to girls your own age,” John responds. “Sammy—.”

I can no longer hear the men as I reach the door to Joe’s office. Jana and Dan had both told me that his door usually stayed open, today it was not only closed, but it was locked as well. I knock, waiting for him to answer. He looks a little frazzled when he opens the door, but smiles at me, “Hey, Y/N/N, what’s up?”

“There’s a guy from Fish and Wildlife; he’s looking into the recent animal attacks? He’s asking about strange occurrences or something? I don’t know, but I know you pay attention to that kind of stuff, so he wants to talk to you.”

“I—shit, yeah, let him know I’ll be out in a few minutes,” he straightens his shirt and closes the door behind him.

I nod and head back to the front of the building. I watch as the boys and their father seem to be in deep discussion. Turning away when I realize Dean has caught me staring. I gather their food, and as I walk towards their table, I can hear that for some reason, I am the current topic of discussion, specifically, my age.

“Actually, I’ll be 17 in a month,” I quip, dropping their food, unsure of why I am engaging with this odd group of men.

“Huh?” Dean looks at me curiously.

“Well, for some reason the two of you are overly concerned with my age, I’ll be 17 next month.”

“Still illegal, Dean,” Sam smirks.

“Yeah, but right up your alley, Sammy,” Dean winks at him.

“Boys, stop treating this girl like she’s a piece of meat,” their father doesn’t even look up from his plate.

I can’t help myself, I’m usually not this brazen, but something about these outsiders coming in, I have to say it, “Well, here in the Great State of Texas the age of consent is 17, it’s not technically illegal,” and before I can stop myself I wink at Dean.

“Oh, Y/N, you are killing me here,” he says, bringing his hand to his chest. “Unfortunately, I’m gonna have to pass, but Sammy here,” Dean grabs Sam by the shoulders, “may be able to help you out.”

Sam blushes furiously; it’s actually adorable. I can feel the heat coming up in my own cheeks, and know if I stay any longer, they will see it very clearly.

“Joe’ll be out in a few minutes,” I say, turning to go back to the register. I walk away, adding a little sway in my hips as I know the younger men are watching. “Lemme know if there’s anything else I can get you,” I shoot another wink, this time in Sam’s direction.

“Thanks, Y/N/N.” John’s baritone voice carries through the restaurant.

I watch Joe take a seat with the three men, the younger boys listening and observing their father very carefully. I watch John grab something—a fork?— out of his pocket and discreetly place it in front of Joe. Why would he do such a thing? Joe and the men continue to speak for 10 minutes until the dinner rush starts, and Joe excuses himself.

The three men finish their burgers and leave the restaurant; concern etched on their faces as they have a heated conversation.

Throughout the dinner rush, I notice that Sam is stationed outside of the building. It looks as though he’s watching somebody. But every time I look up, his position has changed. After it grows dark, I can no longer see him outside; I realize I shouldn’t let him occupy my mind. Jana and I work furiously until a few hours later when we finally close.

“First day on your own,” Jana says, letting her hair down and hopping onto the counter. “You did good Y/N/N, only a couple mistakes.”

“Thanks, it’s not always gonna be like that, right?” I say, sighing, mimicking her actions with my own hair.

“Nah, I mean, the Friday and Saturdays will be, but unless it’s a school break, the nights are not usually too crazy,” she reassures me.

“Thank God,” I laugh, “what about the customers? Did you see those guys earlier? The ones talking to Joe?” I ask, hoping that she doesn’t pick up on the fact that I am blushing at the mention of the men.

“Oh, you mean the green-eyed one who was clearly hitting on you?” She smirks at me, “With the older guy and the really tall guy?”

“Yeah… you have an excellent memory…” I laugh, “he was so cheesy. ‘Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?’” I mock him. “I mean, he can’t think girls really fall for that? Even the tall one knew it was a bad line.” I blushed a little, thinking about them.

“Oh my god, you like him, green-eyes.” She gasps, “You wanna jump his bones,” she sang mockingly at me, “you love him!”

“Shut up,” I threw my apron at her playfully, “I do not want to jump his bones. Besides, I’m jailbait. He’s at least 21 or so.” Jana raises her eyebrow at me. “He basically told me he couldn’t.”

“So… you’re saying you would if he was younger?” she giggles.

“Jana! No! He’s not my type. He’s way too cocky—he probably thinks he’s God’s Gift to Women,” I mock him again.

“What about the tall one? He was gorgeous,” she offers, “And the dad? He’s hot, like I will so call him Daddy. Let him just—."

“That’s way too much information, Jana. Anyway, if green-eyes is too old, how on earth is the dad not even more wrong?”

“That’s what makes it so hot… like, the wrongness of it…” she says mock fanning herself. “Okay, so clearly, the giant is the one you’re gonna have to do. You can just climb on top—" she says, moving her whole body onto the counter, “and take him for a ride.”

“Jesus, Jana.” I try to suppress my embarrassed laughter. But I blush furiously at the thought of Sam, especially with the image that Jana just planted in my head. I cover my face with my hands as I try to compose myself.

“Oh my god, you are so red!” Jana laughs, “It’s the giant! He’s the one you lo-ove!”

“I don’t even know him! They’re just passing through. You know the type, no one actually moves here. Not for real, at least. They’ll be gone in a week.”

“Y/N/N, that’s why it’s perfect. Hook up, get all that pent-up frustration out of your system, and then you’ll go your separate ways,” she offers. “Wham-bam-thank you-ma’am.”

“I’m really not into that one-night stand stuff,” I say, “I mean, what’s the point?”

“Come on, Y/N/N, that’s the point. Sometimes you just need a release. It’s not like you’re gonna fall in love with some guy you just met and hook-up with once. I mean, you’ve hooked up with guys before, right?”

I shrug my shoulders.

“Oh, my God. Y/N/N, you’re not a virgin, are you?” she whispers so that Dan and Joe won’t hear. I nod, I didn’t have a problem with my own virginity, but other people did. I know I have plenty of time. And with how busy mom and dad keep me, I have no time for boys. “Oh, okay, there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“I know. Besides, mom and dad don’t even like the thought of me dating; they’d make the guy ask for permission. It’s not that I would ever have time for it anyway. Either way, it’ll happen whenever it happens, and it will probably not be great the first time,” I laugh, trying to break the serious look on Jana’s face. “I have very low expectations, especially if he’s never done anything either. Most boys my age don’t know what they’re doing anyway.”

“Not to be all romantic or whatever, but you know it doesn’t have to be like that. Your first time doesn’t have to suck. It can be really nice if you get the right person.”

“I figure it will either be awesome or okay,” I laugh, “hope it’s awesome, but it’s not that big of a deal.”

“Okay, I’m gonna have one more mom moment with you, and then we can leave, okay?” she grows slightly serious, and I nod my head. “Bring condoms.” I choke out a laugh. “I’m serious. Don’t count on the guy to do it. And don’t trust the ‘pull-out’ method. Dudes always think they can time it right, and half the time…” she makes a gesture I don’t quite understand, I look at her confused. “Inside. Or at least not all the way out. And I’m sure getting pregnant isn’t a part of your grand plan.” She smiles softly. “If you ever need someone to talk about this stuff with, you can come to me, okay?”

“Thank you, if and when the day ever comes, I’ll be sure to tell you.” She raises her eyebrow. “I swear. Don’t count on it being anytime soon, though.”

Jana finishes counting the tips, and I count the register. We grab our bags, say goodbye to Dan, who’s still closing down, and Joe, who’s in the office looking at receipts.

Jana and I live about a block away from each other, and close enough to the restaurant that neither of us bothered driving. Every week it’s getting colder, and I know by the first week of December it will be too cold to walk home at night. But until then, Jana and I walk together, her house off of the main road that leads to mine.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to walk you all the way home?” Jana asks as we reach her street.

“Don’t be ridiculous. Then you’ll have to walk back by yourself.”

“Yeah, but I’m prepared.” She pulls mace and a small knife that’s attached to her keychain out. “If someone or something tries to get me, stab stab.”

“Jesus, Jana,” I laugh out of shock. “No, I’ll be fine, how about tomorrow before work I get me one of those and then I’ll be prepared as well.”

“Fine, but call me when you get home,” she jots a number down and waves goodbye, “I’m serious Y/N/N, call me. If you don’t, I will call your parents.”

“I will,” I yell, turning back to head home.

I feel that I’m being followed. Paranoid, I know. I swear I can hear footsteps behind me, but every time I turn around, there’s nothing there. Freaking Jana, this is her fault. I’ve never had issues walking home at night before, but now I’m hearing things that I probably wouldn’t have noticed if she hadn’t put “I’m prepared,” in my head, now feeling like a taunt. I’m less than 5 minutes away from my house; what could possibly happen?

I hear a growling, something inhuman; it grows louder as I try to will myself to move faster. I turn the corner, and that’s when it happens, someone, something, jumps out of nowhere and starts running towards me. I try to run, but my legs won’t move, “fuck.”

I hear yelling, but I still can’t move, the creature is getting closer to me, and I get a good look at it. Claws, it has fucking claws. Its eyes are yellow, and its teeth are huge. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say it was a werewolf. But werewolves don’t exist. This must be the creature that John was looking for.

‘It’s some kind of rare species of bear,’ I tell myself, ‘a bear.’

It’s only about a foot away from me; it looks like something out of a horror movie. It’s on its hind legs, unnatural noises leave its body, and before I can even move, it's swiping at me. All I can do is close my eyes and pray it doesn't kill me. A loud bang forces my eyes open, I stand there, still unable to move. I look up to see a set of familiar eyes before me, ones I hadn’t expected to see ever again. Sam.

Chapter 2

[justsassysworld]

Five Demons And A Baby Part 4

Five Demons And A Baby Part 4

Zhuk x Fem!reader

Warnings: Nsfw, Nsft, oral sex, vaginal sex, erotic massage

Waking the next morning, you find yourself equal parts nervous and excited. Today could very easily be a huge turning point in your life. You try closing your eyes for a few more moments of peace, when they fly back open. What the hell am I going to wear? What should you wear? Panic sets in as you try to plan with no idea what to plan for.

You bolt up, rushing to the lush closet holding your clothes. Your eyes flit from piece to piece, never settling on any one thing. Just as you start to hyperventilate two very strong, very large arms wrap around your waist.

"Breathe, svezda moya," the tall Russian growls into your ear. "There is no need for such worry."

You fold your arms over his, taking comfort in his embrace. Turning, you smile up at him, really taking in his handsome face, his strong, stubbled jaw, thick brows, full lips. The way his dark hair lightens at his temples, how the green blends as it curls at his collar, it really makes you happy you sent that letter.

Not letting yourself stop to over analyze, you slowly move your arms up his defined arms to wrap around his neck, once there you apply some pressure. His smirk lets you know that he knows exactly what you're doing, and he slowly starts to bend his head, as you rise onto your tiptoes. Never in your life have you felt as delicate and petite as you do in this mans arms.

When your lips are a hairs breath from his, you both pause, seeming to seek the others approval. Looking deep into his eyes, you see a hunger and a passion that must surely match our own. Wanting, no needing, to taste his emotions, you surges through those last few centimeters.

Your lips crash into his, your longings clear in your furiousity, a fever that doesn't go unmatched. He crushes you to him as his lips begin their languid and thorough exploration. Almost immediately, you notice how different this kiss is making you feel. Where Scarabee's kiss is a hundred shot firework lighting up the night sky, this is molten magma, flowing deep and true, changing you in ways you can't possibly notice until the passion cools.

He cradles you as he starts to pull you back to the bed. Lost to the moment, you don't care about the date or the wooing, you just want this man. This man whose hands haven't strayed from your waist, but still seem to caress your very soul.

Zhuk stops moving, making you think you've reached the bed and prepare to be dragged down and ravished. That's not what happens though. He slowly pulls up, not wanting to put any more distance between you than is necessary, his forehead against yours.

"Oh, zaika moya," he groans. "You will be the death of us."

He steps away, straightening his sweater, making you realize just how firmly you had gripped it. You both struggle to catch your breath, though he does compose himself a little bit faster. Moving back towards the door, he reaches it and turns. "For this morning, wear something light and comfortable,” he says before leaving the room.

"Something light and comfortable," you mumble to yourself, inspecting your closet. Finally, you decide to just wear your favorite warm weather outfit.

You take a quick but decadent shower vowing to really enjoy the grandiose space at another time. Debating on if you should wear any makeup, and what to do with your hair, you throw on your clothes. Looking in the mirror, you finally decide to throw your hair up and to just wear a light gloss on your lips. Shoes are a much easier decision to make, since you decide to just pull on your favorite sneakers. Giving yourself a final look over, you nod, liking your final look.

No longer hesitating, you throw the door open and find a very sexy Russian waiting for you. He looks you over, dragging his gaze over your body. You feel every inch of that gaze and answer his pleased smile with one of your own. You take his offered arm.

"Ready, svezda moya?"

Biting your lip, you nod and answer, "Yes." The smile he gives you in return is truly magnificent.

He leads you down several new halls and corridors, pointing out rooms along the way, but you don't even try to remember them, far too excited to even try. After many twists and turns, he finally moves to open a door. Walking in, you stutter to a stop.

You may not know that much about cars, but you can tell just how over the top the collection before you is. There are cars in every shape, size, and color. Some look brand new, others are timeless classics, and all are absolutely pristine. Well, all but the very familiar one at the end.

"Is-is that my car?" you ask, glancing up at him. A smirk is his answer. "What the-"

He pulls you in for a quick kiss before leading you to a luxury sedan. Opening your door, he helps you into your seat. The seats are incredibly soft and so much more comfortable than you could have imagined. While he walks around and takes his place in the drivers seat, you take it all in, the sights, feels, and the smells.

The engine purrs as Zhuk fires it up. With one hand, he steers out of the garage, as the other grips one of yours. There is a comfortable silence in the cab and you watch him while the world blurs by outside. For all his apparent strength and external gruffness, you watch his face soften and relax as you get closer to where ever you're going. All while you enjoy the peace and the warmth of his hand.

He pulls to a stop in a nondescript part of town and you feel your brows pull down in confusion. Before you can question where you are, he pulls out a thin piece of what looks like silk.

"Do you trust me, zaika?"

Deciding that honesty is your best policy, you reply, "I'm not sure yet."

A sharp grin is his answer. "Good, I will always reward the truth." You reward is another toe curling kiss.

"Wow," you whisper.

"Oh, svezda moya," he chuckles against your lip. "I know trust must be built, so I am asking you to let me do this. I promise, I mean you no harm, I just want to surprise you."

Nodding slightly, you turn your body and he slips the silken material over your eyes. His hands slip down to your shoulders. Teeth nip at the sensitive skin there and you let out a shocked moan.

"How-how long until we get there?" you stutter out, hoping it won't be long.

"Not long," he chuckles.

Thankfully, he's telling the truth. In less than five minutes, you feel the car pulling to a stop.

"Wait here," he orders before you hear him climb from the car. Less than a minute later, you hear the latch release and feel a slight breeze. A hand drags across your chest, pausing over your tits before he reaches down and unbuckles you.

Taking both of your hands, Zhuk pulls you from your seat. With one hand holding yours, the other resting just above your ass, he guides you, helping you over and around unseen obstacles. Finally, he pulls you to a stop.

Pulling your body flush against his hard one, he murmurs, "Are you ready?"

Nodding, you whisper back, "Yes." One arm wrapping around your waist, the other reaching up to your blindfold.

The bright sunlight momentarily blinds you. Blinking, you wait less than patiently for your eyes to adjust. Taking a moment, when they finally focus, you turn up your face to the man standing behind you in confusion. The only thing before you is a fairly unassuming building with tall fences snaking from it.

You open your mouth, but he cuts you off, "You'll see." Pressure at your lower back has you moving up to the door. Instead of knocking, he simply opens the door and ushers you inside.

A surprised squeal catches in your throat.

The whole room is filled with people holding, feeding, swaddling, and just looking at a variety of baby animals. Some are fuzzy, some are scaly, and others are covered in down, but they all have one very important thing in common; they all are so fucking cute.

A very kind looking woman with a huge grin approaches you both, her hand outstretched to take Zhuk's. "Mr. Sloggoth? It's such a pleasure to meet you."

"Mrs. Abbernath," he returns with a nod. "The pleasure is mine. Allow me to introduce my companion." He does and then asks, "Might we start the tour?"

Hours later, you lean your head back against the car's headrest, a huge grin stretching your lips. You'd seen, and even held and fed, so many unique and amazing animals. Apparently, Zhuk is a huge supporter of animals. So huge in fact, he set up multiple foundations that are geared to help them, including the one he took you to. The whole purpose of this one being rescuing "exotic pets" from, and you quote, "Entitled asshole with more money than empathy for living things.”

There were several snakes, none a species you recognize, a hand full of young penguins, and even a baby emu and flamingo, but the ones you were really drawn to were the mammals. You saw everything from tiny, adult hedgehogs, some slightly bigger adult fennec foxes, a fairly young wolf with wolf-dog pups, and a hand full of various big cat cubs, a couple of bear cubs, and even a full grown male lion.

"Fair enough," he grunts, taking your hand and steering you out of the parking lot, in the opposite direction from where you came. You give him a suspicious look, but he just keeps his eyes on the road and tracing circles in the back of a your hand with his thumb. Hearing you open your mouth to draw in breath, he says, "No. It is a surprise," in a tone that invites no questions.

Zhuk glances your way when you snort in derision. Before he can say anything, you ask, "What kind of jackass names a male lion Nala? And don't say someone who's thumbing their nose at gender norms. Anyone who's conscientious enough to think like that isn't going to have a lion for a pet in the first place, and anyone dumb enough to buy one, is dumb enough to not at least google "Lion King" before naming them."

Pouting, you flop back in your chair, but you refuse to let go of his hand.

You try to focus on the world passing by your window, but between the excitement of the morning and the exhaustion of growing another person, you find your eyes growing heavy. You try to fight it, but the smooth ride has you dozing, a deep voice humming sees you sinking deeper.

Feeling arms wrap around you and slowly lift you from the car, you slowly wake, blinking against the light. The first thing you see is a huge, opulent room, the likes of which you've never seen in person, but had always hoped to experience when you'd saved up enough money. This is the most expensive luxury hotel in the area, and Zhuk is casually strolling through, with you in his arms, acting like he owns the place. You wiggle, trying to get him to put you down, an action that's become a bit too familiar, but he simply gives you a warm smile and keeps moving.

Instead of stopping at the reception, he breezes right on passed, seemingly headed to the bank of elevators. At the last hundred feet, he turns, making his way to what looks like a nondescript section of wall, but it's no wall. Opening a small panel, he punches in a code so long you couldn't remember the amount of numbers, let alone the actual code. Finally, there's a quiet snick and an elevator shows itself.

He carries you inside and the door slides shut, starting moving immediately. As the elevator ascends, he finally sets you down, but instead of giving you space, he backs you against the wall. His large hand cups your cheek before he leans in and places a heart meltingly sweet kiss on your lips. Never in your life have you had so much casual, meaningful affection. These men are going to do terribly amazing things for and to you. The elevator pulls to a gentle stop, but still he holds you. It's a sweet kiss, a longing kiss. A kiss to make you long for more and beg to stay. He is making you crave him, making you wonder about the rest of them.

"Oh zaika," he groans, finally pulling away. "You tempt me so, but we have an appointment that I will not let us miss."

Dragging you through the extravagant space, he doesn't give you a chance to take it in before you find yourself in a fully equipped spa wing, including a couple people waiting for you with warm smiles.

Shock has you jerking to a stop, but gentle pressure at the small of your back has you moving again. An incredibly soft robe is placed in your hands.

"Mr. Sloggoth, we have everything ready for you," the young woman informs. "Just let us know when you're ready for us.” The pair both nod before exiting the suite.

"What's going on, Zhuk?" you ask. "I know I can't do most of the spa experiences."

His gentle chuckle is a caress just as firm as those given by his hands. He takes your hand and pulls you near.

Cupping your belly, he grins. "I know svezda moya, I have taken such limitations into account. If you are agreeable, I will give you a full body message before calling on the others to give us both facials, manicures, and pedicures."

"Really?" you gasp, voice and face doing nothing to hide your excitement. "But what about you?"

"This is for you, well," he tilts his head, a knowing smirk lighting his face. "I will be getting my own pleasures."

The look in his eyes shows you exactly what his pleasure will be, though you suspect you will definitely enjoy yourself.

"That is," he adds, watching your expression. "As long as you are comfortable with that."

You bite your lip, thinking before you ask, "Will this be a 'happy ending' massage? And will I be reciprocating?"

A growl rumbles through the air and a glow lights his eyes. Taking a deep breath, he closes his eyes and calms. "As much I would love that, this is for you. We have all night and I want you to be as relaxed as possible."

He's really willing to get me off without getting any himself? All because he's trying to woo you, to get to know you, maybe to fall in love.

"Allow me to escort you." He takes your elbow, leading you to a warm, dimly lit room, with candles spread throughout and soothing music playing in the back ground. Just being here has your heart rate slowing and your breathing calming.

"I will give you some time to get ready. If you are open to an... inclusive experience, disrobe and lay under the towel. If not, there is a bikini you can put on." Before turning to leave, Zhuk drops his lips against yours.

Leaning back against the table, you bite your lip as you watch him walk outside, or more accurately, his ass. Shaking your head, you force yourself to focus on the dilemma at hand, bikini or no bikini. You think about the others, would they be upset? No, is the immediate answer that comes to mind. They all knew this was a possibility and it seems they all have their own plans for you. So really, the only thing you truly have to decide is if you want everything he's offering right now, or try for more later. Holding up the tiny pieces of cloth, you make up your mind.

A few minutes later, Zhuk finds you laying on the massage table, on your stomach. Turning your head, you smile at him. "Hi

"Hello, zaika," he replies, coming to stand next to you, sleeves rolled up. "Are you ready?"

You nod, then ask, "Is it okay for me to laying like this?"

"Yes, you are perfect."

Your eyes follow him as he moves to grab a bottle of oil off a table. Thighs clenching, you force yourself to close your eyes, too tempted by the sight of him. Startled when you feel him pull the towel down your back, you know when he realizes you aren't wearing anything beneath it. The air grows thick with your combined arousal.

A splash hits your back, and he quickly rubs it in. Next comes both arms, then he moves the towel off your legs, leaving your ass as the only thing covered and without oil. Already you feel incredibly relaxed, sinking deeper into the cushion.

His deep voice blends into the ambiance, "Can I continue?"

"I don't know," you snark, too relaxed to know better. "Can you?"

"Careful, zaika," he growls, firm hand gripping your ass with a bruising force. "I may not be able to punish you fully for the time being, but I will keep track of such things."

His threat does far more to excite you, rather than instill fear, but still, you don't want to risk doing or saying anything that might have him deciding not to continue.

Turning your head to look at him, you practically beg, "Please, Zhuk, Please."

Smiling, he grazes one of his knuckles down your cheek. "Of course, svezda moya." He teases a quick kiss against the back of your neck, before finally removing your towel completely. Before you can truly adjust to the air caressing your skin, the oil is all ready rubbed in, and the massage can truly begin.

Zhuk is incredibly thorough, starting at your hands working his way way up to your shoulders and neck. Then he went down to your feet, kneading and working way up. Moans and gasps you've never heard escape you as he releases tensions you didn't even know you hand.

Your breathing quickens as he gets closer and closer to your ass, finger digging into your inner thighs, so close to where you desperately need him. Inching your legs apart, you try to tell him what you want without having to say a word.

Unfortunately, he doesn't take your silent plea, instead, he goes back up to your shoulders. His firm fingers find knots and kinks you never realized were there. Even as you tell yourself to focus on what you're feeling, what you're feeling has you more distracted than ever. An almost constant whine is coming from your throat as you desperately fight not to grind your clit against the table. Still, your hips start to move uncontrollably.

Chuckling, he finally starts kneading your lower back, occasionally grazing the top of your cheeks, which isn't helping at all. You clench your fists, wrestling for control, when his finger starts playing at your cleft. Legs spreading even more, you hope to draw him further, but even if it doesn't work, the comparatively cool air feels so good against your heated flesh.

"Oh god," you moan as his strong hands caress and grip your ass. His fingers dip and play, dancing over your rosette, sneaking ever closer to your increasingly desperate hole. You suck in a gasp when he ghosts over your wet pussy... and let out a disappointed scream when he immediately pulls away.

Frustration has you flipping over to glare up at him, not caring one iota that you're flashing him. Laughter is his only response. "I'm sorry, Suezda moya, but I did need you to turn over for me." But the look he's dragging down your body tells you just how sorry he is, not at all.

Still glaring, you lay back, legs splayed. You're already so incredibly horny you feel no shame. Looking right at him, your hand slides over your hip, heading straight for your mound, but just before you reach your clit, a hand grips your wrist.

Zhuk's eyes blaze as he warns, "Careful, your pleasure is mine to give. Try to steal that from me again, and I will tie you down and make you regret it." Part of you wants to test him, but you know he still has more planned for tonight, and you don't want that effort to go to waste. “Do you understand?"

Nodding, you decide to push just a little. "Yes, sir."

Growling, he pulls you into a punishing kiss. He bites and tugs at your lips, stealing your breath. Pulling back, he groans, "Volshebnitsa," against your ear.

With a glare, he takes your shoulders and pushes you back, ordering you to stay with his eyes. You bite your lip as you silently debate whether to keep your eyes open and watch him, or if you should just lay back and enjoy what you know is coming. In the end, you decide to trust and just feel.

Just as he did with your back, he starts by coating you in the lotion, only this time, instead of starting at your extremities and working inward, he moves up your arms and down your body, only avoiding the spot between your legs. In fact, your mound is the only place he truly pays no attention to.

Starting at your feet, he pushes and prods, making your toes clench and release.

As he moves up your calfs, you relish the occasional catch of calluses. Teeth catch your lower lip as you try to hold in your whimpers, not that it does much good. Firm fingers kneading your inner thighs has gasps and moans breaking free.

You so desperately want to play with your nipples or maybe stroke your clit, but you won't risk getting in trouble. Not wanting to blatantly defy him, you subtly rub your thighs together. Strong hands immediately pry them apart again.

They slip and slide up your slick skin, tips digging, nails lightly grazing. He reaches around and grips your ass before having his hands follow your hips, thumbs brushing the creases between your thighs and mound. And then he's gone.

You surge up on your elbows, making sure he sees your grumpy pout. There is no remorse in his answering smirk, only a malicious gleam that tells you he's enjoying your reaction to his teasing.

Falling back as his hand travels up your stomach, you resign yourself to having to persevere through his torture. I will not let him win, you think to yourself, deciding to hold back your reactions to keep a hold of as much control as you can. Even as he very gently massages your stomach, the rest of you clenches. Your eyes squeeze shut, you set your jaw, and tense your shoulders.

Slow, deep chuckles fill the space. "Zaika, you wish to hide your reaction from me?" he asks, obviously not expecting an answer since he adds, "Challenge accepted."

Before you can analyze what he means, his hands are on you once again upon you, but this time it's no gentle tease. He twists and pulls on your nipples, making you fight not to respond. Then, something warm and wet closes over your right nipple. Your fight is lost as you let out a strangled gasp.

His eyes glint up at you and you feel his sharp teeth nibble on your hardened nub. The other is being pinched tight.

"Oh god," you gasp, one hand weaving through his hair, the other covering his pinching one. Your reaction has you wondering what exactly is in that oil, but honestly, you're far too horny to care.

"Zhuk, please! I need you!" the voice coming from you is completely unrecognizable.

He places a gentle peck on your nipple before standing and removing his shirt. You follow him up, catching him off guard when he frees his head and finds you undoing his pants. With his help, you have him completely naked in just seconds. Kneeling in front of him, you glance up, asking with your eyes if you can touch him. He gives you a small nod, so you reach out, hands slipping up his thighs. Muscles twitch as you explore them. His fingers tangle in your hair. Your hands slide over his hips to cup his ass, which brings your face very close to his cock.

Looking up, you watch his face as you very intentionally breathe on his member. His eyes are squeezed shut and jaw is clenched, making you feel like the most powerful woman in the world. One hand plays at his hip, the other teasing between the base of his shaft and his balls.

Moving close, you treat it like an ice cream cone, alternately swirling your tongue and suckling at the head. A constant growling hum reaches your ears, with several moans and groans letting you know how he's liking it. His grip in your hair grows tighter when you start to trail your tongue up and down his shaft, following the veins.

Spitting on both of your palms, you start pumping him with both fists and playing with the tip. Your tongue dips and explores at his slit, tasting him. As a quick surprise, you take him as deep as you can, sucking hard.

A sudden roar rips through the room, and you find yourself cradled in strong arms, being rushed somewhere new. Flinging open a door, you shriek when you're suddenly flying through the air. Before your back has fully settled on the soft bed, he's there; one hand playing with a nipple, the other wrapped around a thigh, holding you down, all while his tongue starts its own exploration.

Starting at your clit, he slowly circles it, listening, feeling, learning your spots. Whimpers and whines fly from you, helping him with his studies. Once he's figured out some tricks, he moves lower, starting to thrust into you with his tongue, tasting you. While he drinks his fill, his fingers dance over your little bundle of nerves.

"Ah, Ah, Ahh!" you cry out, already so close to release.

His tongue disappears, only to be replaced by his finger while his mouth latches on to clit, sucking, sending you into orbit. The pleasure of the orgasm is so intense you try to jerk away, but he holds you tight. There is nothing you can do but lay back and experience.

Zhuk finally slows, letting the orgasm ebb. As you begin to regain control of your body, you reach down and pull him up, well, he lets you pull him up.

"Please, Zhuk,” you pant, body still craving more. "I want you."

Nodding, he positions himself over you, but still he asks, "Are you sure, svezda moya? Do you want me to wear a condom?" The concern in his voice almost makes you cry, telling how much he already cares for you.

You shake your head, "No, you can't get me any more pregnant, and if I remember right, I was told y'all can't get 'human' diseases."

He chuckles and shakes his head, before kissing you softly. "Yes, zaika."

Wrapping your arms and legs around him, you press kisses across his jaw as he lines himself up with your entrance. His lips take yours as he starts thrusting forward. Unlike so many men who start with long, deep strokes, Zhuk is more tempered. His strokes are slow and shallow, exploring with his cock what he'd explored with his fingers and tongue just minutes earlier, and it's so effective.

There are no words that can truly explain what you are feeling in this moment. It's more than just the physical, which is admittedly spectacular. It's the connection that's quickly growing between you, which ties into the feelings you've already built with Scarabee. It's the way he's already shown such care to not only you, but to the baby, and all those animals back at the rescue.

You can't say you're surprised by your new, but intense emotions you are feeling towards him, even if they have come on so fast. It may not be love right now, but you can see how easily it will be to fall for him, for all of them.  

Finally, he starts to pick up pace, still not going very deep, but consistently rubbing your g-spot. His weight shifts and there's a finger on your clit, rubbing in small circles.

"Oh god," you moan into his mouth, hips moving to match his, consistent pressure on your clit, inside you, combine with the feel of him on top of you and the way he tastes, and you cum again, muscles clamping down as you scream out in pleasure. Thrusting harder and faster, Zhuk quickly follows you over the edge, murmuring in a mix of Russian and English. Hot sperm fills you, making you shudder.

Zhuk practically collapses on top of you, rolling and pulling you on top of him. You both take a long time to relax and calm back down, sweat cooling and drying on your skin. You lie there for what feels like an eternity, probably falling asleep for at least a few minutes.

Moaning in displeasure, you clutch him, not liking him sliding out from beneath you.

"Hush, little one," he cajoles, managing to break free. "I need to get something to clean you, and I need to cancel a few reservations."

Disappointment fills you, "I'm sorry. I-"

He cuts you off with a kiss. "Do not blame yourself. I was no passive participate and I am very happy with the turn tonight took. I will call us room service and will ask you to accompany me to the shower."

You tap your finger against your lips, as if in deep thought. "I think I can accept your terms, but I do worry that I might not have the strength to make it all the way to the shower."

Laughter babbles up when he hoists you up and whisks you away, taking you to be prepped for more to come.

@janitor-boy @1-rosewiththorns @doyouhearthatsound-after-dark @dilfyjuice

[nadiaportia]

A Countess’s Masquerade

Summary: A surprising visitor makes an otherwise unpleasant party worthwhile for Nadia.

Word count: ~5.3k

Very much inspired and endorsed by @leatherandsaltybitters thanks to her July Prompt! As soon as I read it, the idea came up in my head and thus this little fic was born. It was quite fun to write and I hope it’ll be equally entertaining for everyone to read~.

“Noddy, darling! Where are you~?” Nadia flinched at her husband’s nasal voice carrying over to the private balcony. She wasn’t hiding from him, of course she wasn’t, but rather taking a break from… just everything and everyone. She liked a good party as much as the next person but this revelry? It threatened to overwhelm her, more than any party in Prakra had ever done. She had been in Vesuvia for three years now and this was her third masquerade so she felt that she should be used to this… or at least get used to it. 

Nadia leaned on the ledge, propped on her elbows and rubbed her temples. Everything was getting to her even though it was only an hour past midnight, and she was sure if she were to have another drop of cloudberry liquor, she'd have enough of it for the rest of her entire life. 

A good white wine would suit her well now and perhaps even lift her spirits to get through the night. With people such as Asra, Julian and their friends it was bound to be an entertaining evening, but besides them… the nobles cared more about getting as wasted as their livers allowed them to, some didn't even forget their agenda on a party and at least at her first masquerade she had to guide Lucio away from nobles trying to lure him into lowering their taxes or giving them money if they were to fulfill half-assed requests. But the man was a grown adult so if he fell for an obvious scam, that was none of her business. 

She took in a deep breath of the chilly night air and looked at the starry sky. The heat of the day had subsided and the gardens were full of masquerade guests. From the balcony she got a good view at those dancing, drinking and laughing, be it at the huge fountain in the middle of the garden or even the maze. 

She saw how a reveler dressed as an orange butterfly pulling another one dressed as a black cat along with them out of the maze and into the woods. Luckily if she had the need to hook up with someone, she had one of the various rooms in the Palace at her disposal, although she understood the thrill of doing so outdoors where someone could walk in at every moment.

"Nadi." She looked over her shoulder at hearing her name. "Here you are." Asra, wearing a opalescent white costume and a small mask with texture resembling snakeskin, leaned with his back next to her against the ledge and took a deep breath. Something about him… was decisively out of balance, and she could feel it wasn't just Lucio being himself or people acting up in general.

"Asra. Are you enjoying the night?"

He nodded, perhaps a tad too quickly, and put on an easy smile. "Yes, don't you worry about me." He waved a hand. "It's just… wow, the Masquerade." His eyes widened in exaggeration for emphasis. 

Nadia laughed. "Yes, truly. It's… quite the event. I don't know if I'll ever grow used to this particular flavor of revelry." She eyed her friend curiously as he brushed a white lock of hair behind his ear and unconsciously dabbed at a small collection of sweat beads with his sleeve. 

"Are you alright?" She reached out and gently touched his elbow. He gulped and nodded. 

"Oh, of course, why shouldn't I be? I think the cloudberry liquor is just so strong that it gives hallucinogens a run for their money." He laughed awkwardly, and Nadia decided to drop the matter. 

Asra could be very elusive if he wanted to, and there was never a way to coax anything out of him that he didn't give up voluntarily. In a way, he was the best secretkeeper you could ask for - he'd never tell. 

"Very well." She coughed. "How's the weather?"

Asra snorted. "Sayelle and Julian decided to hold an impromptu duet of a Galbradan folk song, it was quite impressive." 

Nadia smiled to herself. "Of course it was. They know how to work a stage."

"I'm surprised Julian didn't slur through his part."

"Noddy!" Lucio's loud voice rang over through the air, this time closer. The Countess and the magician looked at each other and simultaneously rolled their eyes. 

"Do you know why?"

"There's guests from Zadith and he wants to make a good impression - which on his own is nigh impossible already when he's sober."

"Well, at least it might be interesting to meet some new people." Nadia stood upright and straightened her dress. "It has been a while since I was in Zadith for the last time. Let's see how much things have changed."

They made their way through the groups of party-goers and entered the ballroom. Here the air was artificially kept cool and it really was a necessity considering that the majority of people were in there. 

"Oh, Asra, thank you for finding Noddy for me." A sweaty hand softly caressed her shoulder and soft lips pressed a kiss on her mask.

Asra's eyes were steely but he nodded in acknowledgement. "You're welcome, sir."

Lucio grinned and put an arm around Nadia. She smiled and touched his arm. "I heard something about a delegation from Zadith?"

"Oh, yes! Some alchemists and a bunch of nobles, small fish but we kinda need their backing because of the trade routes and all that other jazz." He made a vague hand movement. Nadia nodded slowly. "Very well… let’s see what we can do then. Nothing like negotiations during a birthday party."

Lucio let out a dramatic sigh. "So rude, I know. But let's get to it. Oh, hey, where are you going?"

Asra had turned and began walking back into the crowd. "Huh?"

"C'mon, the more the merrier."

"For 'negotiations'?"

"Hm, sure." Lucio grinned. "You're already in with the upper echelons, might as well see the inner workings." He let go off Nadia and put an arm around Asra's shoulder.

Asra's gaze met Nadia, who shrugged as a response. It couldn't do any harm, she thought. His eyes briefly wandered around the room as if he was searching for someone and then sighed.

"Alright, why not?"

They walked up the stairs and onto the upper level of the ballroom, where a group of people stood together in extravagant costumes. Lucio introduced them and Nadia was surprised that somehow he managed to come across as decently put together. The Zadithi nobles were eager to chat with her and were impressed by Lucio's military campaigns, falling easily for his charm. Nadia and Asra leaned back and she was about to suggest they'd leave to another party room, when -

"Oh, apologies, I was exploring some of the rooms in the West Wing! Whoever designed them deserves all the praise." A clear melodic voice rang over them and everyone turned their head towards the woman that approached them. Her costume could only be described with one word: pink - to be specific, the bright hot variant. The fabric was light, resembled ruffled silk and comfortably fit around her body, the dress ended halfway along her thighs but another extravagant piece of fabric continued in the back similarly to a peacock's tail without touching the floor. Her high-heeled shoes were of the exact same hue as the dress, just like the gems around her neck and her earrings. The mask she wore depicted a flamingo. On the vast majority of people, this outfit would have been considered a fashion sin and no doubt resulted in their imprisonment but somehow… it worked fantastically on her. Nadia had no idea how but it did.

The woman herself had impeccable posture as she walked towards them, shoulders low, back straightened and her head held confidently high. Her brown skin meshed well with the vibrant pink of the dress and her dark brown hair was fixed in an updo. Through the mask she saw a pair of eyes the color of dark honey and her full lips were painted a dark red, almost black. 

"Gentlepeople of the Zadithi court, I hope I am not interrupting something." She said as she inclined her head towards the delegation who apparently were her companions all along. 

"Oh, Marquesa, no, you're most welcome to enter the conversation actually." One of them, a tall man with golden skin, said and bowed to her. "We’re actually having a lovely conversation with our hosts - whom, if I recall, you haven't met as of yet!"

To Nadia's surprise, she heard Asra cough and turned to see him looking suddenly very out of it. 

"Really?" The woman made a surprised face and looked from Lucio to Nadia to Asra. "Well, we have already met, have we not, young magician?" Her eyes were on Asra for a brief moment and her eyes twinkled until she turned her attention back to the Count and the Countess. Nadia noticed that her gaze lingered on her for maybe a little too longer before she spoke next.

"Your excellencies: Lady Heloisa de Rubalcaba of Calpacia, representative of the Zaan of Cartagenth in foreign affairs." She made a curtsy and her costume rustled. "To your services, Count Lucio and Countess Nadia."

"We are very honored to have you, Lady Heloisa.” Nadia replied and nodded respectfully. The name vaguely rang a bell in her mind but she couldn’t recall precisely in what context. 

“Likewise.” Lucio added and nodded with a hand on his chest. 

Even though they were on Vesuvian soil and the local sovereigns, etiquette still demanded foreigners with a higher title were to be treated as guests of honor. She wondered what room this marquesa was given - although she did not recall invitations being sent out to the empire of Calpacia to the far West of the continent. Lucio seemed to think the same.

“Cartagenth, Calpacia… if I remember correctly, I stopped sending invitations after them being ignored for three years straight.” His tone was amicable but had an edge to it. Lady Heloisa shrugged. 

“That is very much true, Count Lucio. I was on a diplomatic mission in Zadith meeting my dear friends,”, she winked in the general direction of the Zadithi delegation, “when your invitation reached the council - and since they are allowed to bring guests and I was at the moment the guest of honor at court, here I am!”

“Especially because you mentioned never having been here, Marquesa!” A woman with a headscarf and a fennek mask claimed. 

“Yes.” The marquesa sighed. “The diplomatic relations between Cartagenth and Vesuvia are not the best, after the Vesuvians’, err, I guess one could refer to it as a “business”, in Karnassos, ancient allies of ours from back when they were the local military power.”

Nadia’s eyes went to Lucio who was busy inspecting the tips of his gauntlet. She remembered a history lesson many, many years ago in her childhood, about the nations to the west of Prakra where the kingdoms of Bizatena, Calpacia and Karnassos had joined forces to break down a merchant revolt. 

“C’mon, let’s get out of here.” Asra whispered. A single bead of sweat was rolling down his temple and Nadia raised an eyebrow. Was he that unnerved because of the marquesa?

“Give me a few minutes, Asra, then I’m with you.” She whispered back and gently touched his arm. Asra looked already more at peace and touched her hand reassuringly. 

“Mirror room.” With that, he turned and left.

“Either way, hopefully that can be water under the bridge now - who knows, maybe one day we will need to support each other.” 

“Hm, I think that Vesuvia is doing quite fine as of lately, but thank you for the offer, Lady Heloisa.” Lucio’s voice was honey but the slight curl in his lip indicated to Nadia that he was already displeased with her attitude. One corner of the marquesa’s lips turned upwards and she let out a sigh. 

“That might be true but you know - you never know. Unless you can see the future thanks to a crystal ball.” She winked at Lucio as if they were old friends planning a conspiracy together. Lucio’s cold grey eyes fixated on her warm brown ones and even though most of his face was hidden by the large peacock mask he wore, Nadia saw his ears turning beet red. The marquesa snatched a glass of rosé prosecco from the platter of a bypassing waiter.

“Which I quite frankly cannot - I possess no magical talents, unlike you.” She nodded at the members of the delegation. “For you, my friends, and the students of the alchemical academy of Zadith.” She toasted towards the Zadithi and downed the content of the flute in one go. 

“So this is all that brings you to Vesuvia, ‘diplomatic relations’? As for my husband’s military endeavors, that one has been solved after a court hearing - we paid reparations to the town of Karnassos, but of course I understand why its old allies might bear a grudge towards those who harmed the representative of their sister city.” Nadia stated curtly and tried to ignore Lucio’s questioning look that basically said ‘We paid reparations?’.

“Not exactly, it was also my own curiosity. Especially when I heard that the Countess happened to be a former Princess of Prakra.” Lady Heloisa’s eyes twinkled and her smile turned into something more genuine than the sardonic grin she had put on when talking to Lucio. “That certainly got my attention, and I am glad to know I did not come all the way here to be disappointed.” 

Was the marquesa trying to flirt with her, in front of her husband nonetheless? Bold, but… 

“Either way, thank you - I did not know that the matter had been solved, I thank you for clearing it up to me.”

“You’re more than welcome, Lady Heloisa.”

“And I mean it; your reputation precedes you, Countess Nadia; your work as a stateswoman in the service of your home country is known even to the Calpacian court and your sisters Nafizah and Navra have told me much about you when I was in Prakra two years ago. Quite a shame we did not meet earlier - you seem a most interesting character.” The last sentence was to Nadia’s surprised said in accented but very sure spoken Prakran. At the same time she remembered almost out of nowhere why exactly the name rang a bell. 

“Oh, you’re the playwright! The one who wrote The Dying Swan of Doña Astros.” Navra had raved about this play for at least a whole month and even attended a showing of it when the entourage and actors had travelled to Prakra.

Heloisa smiled and tucked a loose curl behind her ear. “Yes, the first play I ever wrote. I have a soft spot for it but Jocelyn y Templanza is the most dear to me. It’s just so much more personal.” 

“Oh, I haven’t seen either but… now that I recall it, I did read The Ballad of the Brave Knights of Crystalia. A good comedy with great social commentary.” 

“Ah, that one,”, she chuckled, “there are enough people who consider it a tragedy, partly because it’s based on real events. You certainly seem to have enough finesse and sharp wit to figure it out the right way, congratulations.” She winked and Nadia was glad for the mask on her face which hid her blush.

 “The Crystalian Knights were a real mercenary band - not one of them from Crystalia necessarily.” Lucio interjected. Nadia threw him a pointed look. Did he have to forcefully insert himself into the conversation?

“Why, thank you, I am well aware of that, your excellency.” Lady Heloisa’s mouth was a thin line. “My source is - well, was, since their era has ended - quite familiar with them; they were under her service after all.”

Lucio’s eyes widened and his lips pursed but he didn’t press the issue. 

“Reading the play could maybe give you a new insight on the events, darling.” Nadia suggested with a small smile and suppressed a chuckle when Lucio rolled his eyes. 

“Oh, don’t feel pressured to follow your wife’s recommendation, your excellency. Zero readers are better than one self-described expert.” She laughed. Nadia felt the corners of her mouth twitch. As if Lucio would ever finish a book in order to criticize it. Her husband meanwhile only stared at the marquesa who shook her head. “Pardon, I was just joking. A man of your standing, you must be quite educated and your military decorations say more than enough.”

“Oh, no offense taken, Lady Heloisa - or Marquesa? Which one is it? You are dressed like someone more important than you might actually be.” He slightly leaned forward with a grin that bared a little too much teeth.

Before Nadia could open her mouth, the marquesa answered cooly and with a steely look in her brown eyes that by now exuded no warmth whatsoever: “I am a representative of my house and since the actual marquesa is quite the busy woman, the political affairs fall to me, your excellency.” As quickly as her sharp veneer appeared, it was gone again and her tone became amicable again. “Either way… I take it you are quite busy with the delegation; the people who are actually interested in talking to you. Good day, and before I forget it: happy birthday - it is your party I am attending after all.” Lucio opened his mouth to answer, but Lady Heloisa turning on her heel cut him off before a word escaped him.

“Lucio.” Nadia hissed and leveled him with a displeased look. 

“C’mon, Noddy, from whichever backwater that woman is, they haven’t even invented manners over there.” 

Nadia raised an eyebrow which instantly made him shut up. “Have you ever heard of being the bigger person?”

Her husband put on a shameless grin. “Nope. Especially not on my birthday - why though, I’m already the greatest there is!” He looked down on himself and marveled at his peacock costume with a deep cut-out and tight shimmering teal pants.

Nadia sighed. “Like always it’s left to me to fix the messes you leave behind.” 

She didn’t even dignify Lucio with a response and followed the marquesa who with her hot pink costume was not only impossible to miss but also seemed to naturally draw looks to her. Nadia followed her through a crowd and before she reached her, she thought that maybe she was being ridiculous, this woman was a stranger to her but if Lucio just burnt a bridge to her and the Calpacian empire, that couldn’t be good.

“Lady Heloisa.” The marquesa turned at hearing her name. “Countess Nadia.” She said, with no little surprise in her voice. “What can I do for you? If you are here to apologize for your husband’s tactlessness: there is no need to.”

Nadia sighed. “Let me apologize regardless; I reckon you came to Vesuvia to make friends. Like any good host, I will not deny you the possibility to form good, better, bonds between Vesuvia and Calpacia.”

Lady Heloisa looked at her for a moment, then she nodded slowly. “I do not want to drag you from your own party, so feel free to deny me, but I need to breathe some fresh air - if you were to accompany me, I would be most grateful.”

“Well,” Nadia began, “I don’t have anywhere to be, by all means, and I was going to leave either way.” She remembered Asra, who most likely was waiting for her in the mirror room, that he probably left because of the same person who she was now talking to, but shook her head to chase away the thought. On the way to the balconies she saw Deirdra talking to a butterfly and a pigeon and told them as they passed by to tell Asra she wasn’t going to make it, and then the cold nightair hit her in the face. 

“Ah, much better. I thought I was going to suffocate in there.” Lady Heloisa fanned air into her face. “It's too many people in one room - as big as it might be, it is not enough.” She sighed. “Oh well. I don’t mean to be too forward but… how about the gardens? Less people, more fresh air - both sound like a good deal to me.” 

She grinned at Nadia and for a moment her eyes wandered over Nadia’s figure. “If you want to, Countess, that is. We can relax by the arbors too, as long as it’s away from all the spying little eyes. It is so hard to relax when you’re surrounded by just about everyone in existence.”

Nadia considered the offer for a moment and realized that entertaining the thought actually thrilled her. 

“The arbors sound good, you should just know that there's many people in the gardens right now, be it to catch some fresh air or… engage in risky behavior.” 

“Oh ho ho, how naughty! But oh well, it wouldn't be a party without some of that.” Lady Heloisa chuckled but then agreed to them going to the arbors. On the way there, she fell back for a moment but caught up a few seconds later, triumphantly holding a bottle of prosecco in her hand. "Not a party without some of that."

"You took it off a waiter?" Nadia raised an eyebrow but her tone was amused.

"Unless that was the last bottle in the Palace, in which case it'll be spent rather well." She said with a grin. They settled in an arbor far from any big crowds, surrounded by white rose bushes and with a block of marble in its middle. The two women sat on it, with Lady Heloisa wiping the block before doing so. 

"Stains won't show on my costume but yours… a swan should never stain her beautiful plumage." She winked and sat down cross-legged before she stripped the heels of her feet and rubbed her ankles. 

"Where did you even get it from? Considering you didn't even know the Masquerade was going to happen."

"Oh, I have an excellent and diligent tailor. I'm rather proud of what he came up with: it's very 'Me'."

Nadia straightened her long white feathered dress. "Well, it certainly is unique and quite daring, if I might say so."

Lady Heloisa laughed. "Both of us could surely go into the history books of masquerades as 'Best Dressed' of the evening if there was such a thing. No offense to any peacocks that might walk around the grounds at this very moment."

Nadia laughed.

“I apologize for making fun of your husband, I don’t mean to antagonize him.” Nadia highly doubted this, but didn’t say anything as she watched Lady Heloisa wedge the bottle between her knees and began pulling put the cork. “I’m here to mingle after all. Although I’m starting to think that you are much more amicable and approachable than him.” That easy smile was back on her but a loud plop make both of them jump and the marquesa let out a harsh curse as bubbly prosecco spilled out of the bottle.

“Oh, let me please.” Nadia quickly snatched the bottle from her fingers and put the bottle to her mouth, taking a big sip and put it down when most of the foam was gone. Lady Heloisa’s eyes didn’t leave her as she did so and went between the bottle and Nadia when she put it back on the marble block.

“I was about to lament I didn’t bring any glasses with me but… you don’t seem to mind.” She grinned and took the bottle, still stained with some of Nadia’s own lipstick, and took an equally big sip out of it. 

Nadia leaned back on her hands and curiously eyed the marquesa from head to toes. The fingers holding the bottle were long and slender; a silver band adorned her thumb and another her ring finger. Her dress had a thin but deep cut-out and was made to accentuate her long brown legs. There was a slight hint of fruity scent to her, and Nadia imagined her skin to be soft to the touch. 

As the conversation naturally progressed, she noticed that as soon as she was one-on-one and more at ease with someone, the marquesa had a shift in demeanor - her speech was less strained, less formal than when talking next to the Zadithi delegation. 

She told her about why she was in Zadith in the first place (a potential partnership and exchange program between the Guild’s First Magical Institute and the Alchemical Academy of Zadith), her journey (“I feel like a woman of the people now after sleeping on a field bed two days in a row”) and her last trip to the Star Lakes (where she did meet Nahara and Navra as it turned out and if Nadia read the signs correctly, they went on some very heavy nightly carousing) which in turn led to Nadia talking about Prakra and her life in Vesuvia. 

The marquesa hung onto every word that came out of the Countess's mouth and Nadia grew more and more confident the longer she spoke with her. It was so satisfying to talk to someone and have them actually listen to you, showing actual interest in your words and being a good audience. The only other person she had ever felt the same with after leaving Prakra was Asra; his friends were very sweet but she didn't know them that well yet, Doctor Devorak would tell his own tales in response which was fine but not always what one needed, and Lucio… everything was a competition for him and he would come up with an outrageous lie to make her feel small.

“So, how are you liking Vesuvia so far?”

“Hm.” Lady Heloisa pursed her lips. "It reminds me a bit of Bizatena, but... ,", she sighed, "less well organized. I won't lie, Countess, but there are parts of the city that look atrocious. Happy citizens are happy to be subjects, and unhappy citizens… well, I don't think I need to finish that thought. Prakra has a very high standard of life, its citizens enjoy many rights - how does it compare to Vesuvia?" 

Nadia's thoughts went to coliseum fights and the neglect of the aqueduct system. She felt blood rush to her face as she didn't reply right away, in shame of not doing enough for the city and its inhabitants.

"There isn't even a proper legal system." Why was she telling this woman about it? She had done nothing to prove herself trustworthy - in fact, Nadia thought about the look on Asra's face when he saw the marquesa, that surely had to mean something. 

Lady Heloisa shook her head. "For fuck’s sake. That… sounds horrible. My true condolences." She gave Nadia an empathetic look and reached out to touch her arm. "I hope that one day Vesuvia is ruled by the sovereign it deserves - the quicker the better."

Nadia looked at her for a moment as she processed what the marquesa had just said. Was she really implying what she thought?

"You clearly are a smart and cultured woman, Countess, there is no doubt about it. You surely have got to have some influence amongst the count's advisers or the Vesuvian council in some way, if your husband doesn't listen to you - which is a grave mistake on his part - then at least he should do so with his courtiers."

Nadia thought of the courtiers Lucio had brought to Vesuvia, those strange creatures of whom she wasn't even sure if there was a soul in their chest or not… slippery Vlastomil, mysterious Valdemar, boorish Vulgora and excessive Volta. The newest consul, a young Vesuvian named Valerius, son of a noblewoman who had faithfully served the previous Count and Countess, was the only one she felt some sort of kinship towards but even then she felt on thin ice with him. 

"I will try." She conceded with a sign. "You speak like someone who has plenty of experience with this."

The marquesa grinned and shrugged. "I don't kiss and tell, dearest Countess, all I will say is this: the Cartagense court is a lion's pit and its inhabitants are eternally starved and thus always down to rip you to shreds. I hope for your sake that the Vesuvians are nothing like that - even if I can see you surviving in a hostile environment.”

Nadia watched her as she sighed and reached up to her face to take off the flamingo mask. She didn’t know what exactly to expect behind the mask but she was anything but disappointed: the marquesa had a face that was quite easy on the eyes. Coupled with her magnetic personality, her charisma, her way with words… the woman was fascinating to put it in one word. And yet… she reminded her of those flesh-eating orchids from the jungles in Northern Prakra. 

Lady Heloisa turned the mask in her hand and scoffed. 

“I had this costume made last minute when your husband's invitation arrived in Zadith. Something that says 'I'm down for the fun!', no statement piece or whatever.” She brushed a non-existing speck of dirt off the mask. “Yours clearly positions you as the one with her head in the game, Countess: regal, gracious and with a protective, mayhaps even a little ruthless, streak.” She raised an eyebrow, her smirk confident. “Is it that what's underneath your mask? I'd love to know.”

She reached out to caress Nadia's swan mask but just as her fingers brushed it, Nadia took a hold of her wrist. The marquesa's eyes widened but she didn't protest, on the contrary, the corner of her mouth twitched upwards. Nadia's lips curved into a smile as she gently stroked with her thumb over the skin of the marquesa's inner wrist. The smell of fruity perfume intensified. 

“I don't kiss and tell either, Marquesa.”

Lady Heloisa's eyes were fixed on hers for a moment and then seemed to collect herself. “I have never been one to back down from a challenge.” Her cheeks darkened a bit and she lowered her hand a bit - Nadia let her until she stopped just shortly above her thigh covered by the white satin of her costume. 

“You certainly are daring, Lady Heloisa.” Nadia gently let go of her and in the process trailed over her delicate hand, caressing the knuckles of her long fingers. 

“Is that what you prefer?” The marquesa scooted closer to her, their legs almost touching. “Daring women?”

Nadia felt her face heat up but leaned in, tilted Lady Heloisa's chin up with her finger and replied: “Who says I am not a daring woman?”

The marquesa let out an light chuckle at that. “Countess Nadia, you do have some surprises up your sleeve. I don't know what I expected from Vesuvia but it wasn't someone like you.” She reached for the bottle and frowned. 

“Damn… guess we killed that one.” 

Nadia laughed. She stood up and gulped as she swayed slightly on the spot but held her balance. “I suppose that's the sign we should get back to the ballroom.”

“Ah, yes. I suppose you are right.” Lady Heloisa put her heels back on and when she stood there, there was little to no sway at all - impressive, given the fact the marquesa had drunk more and was also smaller. 

“Maybe,”, Nadia hooked her arm in with the marquesa's. The flamingo costume rustled and the marquesa sucked in a breath as Nadia pulled her close, “you can surprise me in return with your dance moves.”

The laugh Lady Heloisa let out was loud and so very uncharacteristic for a cultured noble woman such as her. Nadia gave her a curious look as she tried to regain her composure. Maybe they were both a bit more enthusiastic after sharing that bottle. Lady Heloisa ran her fingers along Nadia's arm; her pink nails scraped a bit on her skin.

“Oh, that I surely will.”

[justahopelessssromantic]

Runaways- A Mayans MC Fanfic

Runaways Masterlist

Part 21

A/N: I finally did it and uploaded the day I wanted to! Man I don’t know about all y’all but all my days are so mixed up I hardly even know what day it is. Saturday really snuck up on me but I still got the next part finished 💕 As always thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoy 😊

*gif not mine*

Warnings: Some angst but mostly fluff

EZ and Angel took turns keeping watch, one outside and one in the living room. Eventually a plan would need to be made but right now it was hard to even think straight. Having everyone around at least eased some of my anxieties and I’m sure everyone else’s as well.

The words from the note echoed in my head: ‘I can’t wait to see you again.’ I could hear his voice speaking to me clear as day as if he was whispering into my ear piercing straight through me. The chill that followed would not fully shake from within me but I tried my best to ignore it. I could certainly wait to see him again.

Laying on my back on the decent size queen bed that occupied my bedroom I was wedged between David and Nicky making the space feel much smaller but I didn’t mind at the moment. We hadn’t shared a bed since we were little and it brought back the nostalgia of childhood days gone by, days when we didn’t have a single worry. Days when we were just free and innocent. I hoped so desperately that my child would have that comfort, that she would always feel safe and protected. And I wanted her to know how loved she was.

Hopefully one day we would look back on this time of our lives as if it was only just a bad dream.

We laid together in the dark staring up at the popcorn ceiling above us. With a hand in each of mine we were connected in unity. It was a way for us to be there for the other even in complete silence. All our thoughts and emotions were heavy, none of us felt like talking a whole lot right now.

However I needed to break the silence, to get the last secret I was keeping from the, out and in the open before it was too late. The weight of it felt just as heavy as the past events and I felt like it might come crashing down on me, crumbling like everything else in our lives had. I wanted the moment I told them to be perfect and special but there was no time like the present I supposed. Our lives were messy and complicated and very dangerous. If I didn’t tell them now then I may never get the chance to.

“I have to tell you something,” I spoke out into the silence. I was perhaps more nervous to tell them than anyone else. I wasn’t certain how their reactions would be. It could really go any way.

David squeezed my hand tighter in encouragement as if he could feel my nervousness, “We’re listening.”

I took a deep breath exhaling slowly. Compared to everything else this should be something minor but still they were the two most terrifying words to me in this moment. “I’m pregnant.”

There was a long pause where no one uttered a single word. The moment felt like it dragged on forever doing nothing to dissipate my worries. I wondered what must be running through their minds. Were they angry or disappointed in me? Excited or happy? It was incredibly hard and frustrating to try to read someone’s emotions in the dark especially when they wouldn’t say anything. Plus I was too afraid to look either of them in the eye.

“Please say something, anything.” I couldn’t take it any longer. I had to hear them say something even if it wasn’t what I was wanting. I would take anything at this point.

“I’m gonna be an uncle?” Nicky spoke up first. I could hear the smile playing at the corner of his lips.

“Yes,” I smiled, relieved. Taking his hand I placed onto my still relatively flat stomach to emphasize my news.

“Wow,” I Nicky whispered out, his large hand warm against my shirt. I tilted my head to look at David. His face was still looking up and I could just barely make out the profile of his face as my eyes adjusted. He appeared contemplative from what I could make out.

“David?” I asked, pulling his attention to me.

He snapped out of whatever had been holding his mind captive. Turning his head to look at me he smiled and the sight alone was enough to make me feel lighter instantly. The heaviness of the day melted away and there was a pure moment of joy between us, a moment we so desperately needed.

“That’s amazing Willow,” he said, squeezing my hand even tighter, “You are going to be an amazing mother.”

“You really think so?” One of my greatest fears in this new chapter was that I wouldn’t make a good mother. I never really had one myself to look up to and she wasn’t here now to help me through everything during the pregnancy or after. I was completely on my own.

“Of course you fucking will be.” Nicky said matter of factly. Turning on his side and propping his head up under his hand he looked at me grinning.

“What do you think you’ve been doing most of your life?” David asked, adding on to Nicky’s statement. “You’ve not only been a mother to Nicky as he’s grown but you’ve been a mother to me as well Willow even though you’re younger than me." He added chuckling lightly. "You are the most nurturing and caring person we know. Your kid is really lucky to have you.” He reassured me a grin plastered across his face as well.

“And EZ’s a good guy. He clearly loves you and you him. The two of you are going to be great at it” Nicky added.

I smiled wider, my eyes filling with tears from all the love. Fucking hormones I thought as I wiped at my cheeks where the liquid spilled out.

I wasn’t truly alone in this and I had to remind myself that. Despite not having our parents I still had my two wonderful brothers, I still had EZ and his family, the club, Letty, so many wonderful people who had become part of this new big family of mine. I wasn’t alone, we weren’t alone.

“Do you know if it’s a boy or girl?” Nicky asked excitedly, distracting me from my rush of emotions, "I bet it's a boy. How much do you wanna bet David?"

I rolled my eyes. Of course Nicky would already be making bets on something like that. It was a welcome distraction however so I just rolled with it. I already knew what EZ thought and if I was betting I’d lay it all on his. Somehow I agreed with him. Deep down I felt as if she was a girl no matter how crazy that might sound to others. It was just a feeling. Or maybe EZ is just very persuasive and got into my head.

"Nah,” David shook his head, “I think it’s a girl.” Separating his hand from mine he took his turn in feeling my belly, “How far along are you? You still feel pretty flat.”

I laughed at that, “Thanks David. I’ll take that as a compliment.” I placed my hand over theirs, “I’d be about ten weeks now.”

“When did you find out?” Nicky asked.

“Just about a week ago. We wanted to tell you all together but shit with everything that’s happening I didn’t want to wait another second.” They didn’t have to know they were the last ones to find out, at least not right now. Letty would for sure brag to Nicky how she knew before him but that was fine with me. There was no need to worry about it now, it wasn’t important.

“So that’s why you’ve been so sick and crabby as shit recently.” Nicky teased earning a smack on his arm.

“Ouch!” He complained as David laughed at him knowing he deserved it for being an ass.

“Why don’t you two get back to your betting,” I suggested, “that’s enough questions for now.”

"Fine,” Nicky agreed, “As long as you promise not to hit me again.”

“As long as you are nice I won’t,” I teased sticking my tongue out at him. We were three grown ass adults but I think the children in us would always be present when we were together.

“Deal,” He agreed, kissing me on the cheek, “Sorry for being an ass.”

“Gross,” I complained playfully, wiping my cheek as if it was the worst thing ever.

“Alright back to this bet” David cut in “How much are you thinking ? Twenty? Fifty?" He turned over on his side as well now so he could face Nicky and negotiate over me.

"Why don't we make it real interesting." Nicky suggested. I was a little worried to know just what my younger brother had up his sleeves.

"I'm listening.” David replied leaning in closer. Now I just felt like I was in the way and was ready to get the fuck out of here before the terms got started.

Sitting up I patted them both on the sides, "Well while you guys are discussing terms I'm going to go check on EZ." Scooting to the edge of the bed David caught my wrist gently turning my attention to them.

"We love you, Willow." He said serisouly.

I looked between my two brothers. Giving them a half smile I replied softly with an "I love you too."

Making my way completely off the bed I listened as they continued their discussion behind me and slipped out the door closing it tightly behind me. Padding down the hallway the aroma of coffee filled my senses warming my soul. Oh how I’ve missed my dear friend coffee.

Smiling to myself I watched as EZ stood in the kitchen in front of the coffee pot. The sputtering from the machine was booth alarming and comforting. The old thing would surely die out soon but for now as long as it produced what I wanted I was just fine with using it until that day came and we would be forced to buy a new one.

Wrapping my arms around his torso he flinched slightly before easing into my embrace. My face rested against his back as I felt the rise and fall of his breathing, a steady and rhythmic pace.

“You really need to get a new machine,” EZ stated, listening to the horrendous sounds, “I’ll buy you a new one.”

“Maybe someday,” I hummed into his back, “but it works just fine right now. There’s no need to be wasting money on that.”

EZ’s chuckle vibrated through his bake shaking my head gently, “I’m not sure I’d call this working just fine.” He ran his thumb across the back of my hand before twisting around and placing one large hand on my hip. With the other he brushed the hair out of my face and behind my ear smiling when he could see my face better. "How are you doing, mi amor?"

I looked into his calming brown eyes instantly feeling at ease in his presence, "I'm doing better."

"And how's mi princesa?" His hand traveled from my hip slipping under my shirt to rest firmly against the middle of my stomach. He ran his thumb back and forth across my skin, his touch warm and loving.

"She's behaving herself for the most part," I said looking down at his hand picturing the child beneath it.

"I should have known.” He said out of nowhere looking down at his hand as well.

I looked up at him resting my hand against his face and pulling his attention to me, "Don't do that. There is no way you could have known."

"I knew I didn't like him. He gave off this bad feeling but I just never thought he could be a real threat." He said leaning into my palm, “At worst I just thought he could be some guy trying to steal my girl away.” He chuckled bitterly to himself, “I guess in a way I was right.”

"You didn't even know about him and I should have told you sooner," I rubbed my thumb back and forth against his cheek, "I'm sorry about that. You deserved to know everything a long time ago."

He shook his head grabbing my hand in his and giving it a kiss, "Doesn't matter. No more worrying about what should have happened or what was supposed to be, remember?"

I nodded glancing down at the floor before back up to those soft brown eyes of his.

"All that matters is here and now. We are going to figure this out together," leaning down he planted a kiss on my forehead before resting his against mine, "And if I ever get the chance I will kill him.”

He meant every word, I knew that. If it really came down to it EZ would kill him without a moment of hesitation, but this was my family's enemy, my family’s mess to clean up. If anyone was to kill him I strongly believed it should be one of us. I would love to do it myself but out of the three of us it should be Nicky. At the same time however I didn’t know if he could handle that.

The sputtering of the coffee machine finally ended after a particularly guttural sound came out as the last drops sprayed into the pot. EZ pulled away from me grabbing another mug from the cupboard motioning to me with it, "You want some?"

"What kind of a question even is that?" I teased,” I would love that, yes.”

Chuckling he poured some of the hot liquid into my mug before opening the fridge and topping it off with my favorite creamer. I crossed my fingers hoping our little princess would let me enjoy this one cup of coffee without tearing my stomach up. As of right now the scent wasn’t repulsive so I took that as a good sign.

Mugs in hand we made our way back into the living room settling down into the sofa. Wrapping his arm around my shoulder EZ pulled me close. I snuggled into him inhaling the scent of his leather.

"I never got the chance to ask," he murmured over his mug before taking a sip of the nearly black liquid in his mug, "How'd it go with Galindo?"

"Good," I replied simply, "I don't think he suspects anything. It seemed to be just a normal mundane lesson, no sinister intentions."

"You can't be too careful with Miguel. Remember that Willow." EZ warned. I didn’t think the two would ever be on good terms and ever though I liked Miguel, I even seemed to hit it off with him, I trusted EZ more.

"I will, I promise." Raising my mug I took a small sip savoring the sweetness on my tongue. Thinking back on my day before everything went to hell I remember those words of warning that Marcus Alvarez had given me to tell EZ. "There was one thing though." I said turning slightly so I could look at him. I pulled my legs up onto the couch with me as I resituated myself, "It was something that Alvarez said to me. A message for me to give you, really more like a warning."

EZ set his mug down on the coffee table in front of us before returning his attention back to me. His brows furrowed, "What did he say?"

"He said to tell you to be careful," I said looking in his eyes for any indication that he knew something more about this specifically coming from the man who started it all for the club "Do you think he knows something?"

"I don't know," he admitted, "He did question me about my involvement with Emily and the agro-park project but I didn’t tell him anything. He’s smart though. He didn’t get to the top for nothing.”

“We need to be careful, there are so many secrets to keep tight.” I took his hand in mine, “One slip up and we all go down.” I said rather somberly. How anyone could keep just half the secrets we had was beyond me. They all almost consumed me causing me to snap and I couldn’t slip up like that again. There was too much at stake. At least now I had EZ to help carry to load. As long as we kept our no secrets rule between us and hopefully wouldn’t add anymore I had a little hope that we could handle ourselves, more importantly that I could handle it all.

“We will be,” he assured me cupping my face in his hand, “I’m not going to let anything happen to either of you. Our family, all of our family is going to make it out of this whole,” he looked into my eyes, his gaze serious, “I promise.”

Tagging: @themeanestlittlewitch

[screechthemighty]

FR Octane is 100% one of those characters where I can see all the building blocks of WHY he behaves the way he does, but also acknowledge that his behavior is...Bad, it’s not great. And guess what, I accidentally wrote an essay about it if anyone cares! (Listen, I paid a lot of money for an arts degree, if I can’t over-analyze everything then that money was wasted, humor me) ETA: also if you’re thinking of dragging me for this post, please read this first and consider not doing that.

 We’re going to be looking at two big aspects of his character for this analysis. One is more subtext than actual text, but since all the evidence is there (and, if how they handled Wattson’s autism is any indication, will likely never be canon regardless of all the evidence) we’re just going to treat it as canon for the sake of argument. The other one is paracanon which, to be fair, isn’t as canon as “evidence actually in the text”, but again, for the sake of argument, we’ll treat it as such.

Fact the first: Octane, most likely, has ADHD. From the way he behaves, I’m assuming it is either undiagnosed OR he was never adequately taught how to manage his symptoms. The most relevant symptoms to this discussion are his seeming overreaction to Lifeline teasing him (Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria being a common ADHD symptom), his persistent and VERY canon inability to handle boredom, and his equally persistent and canon poor impulse control (especially related to the boredom but in this case it also goes hand in hand with the previously mentioned RSD).

Fact the second: He grew up in an emotionally neglectful and dysfunctional home--his dad had multiple re-marriages (and lbr, probably was cheating on his current wife with the next wife every single time), he was raised more by an assistant who didn’t care to learn his wants and needs, so on, so forth. IMHO, this fact does explain both his larger than life personality AND manipulative behavior. If he stands out and acts out, he gets the attention he craves. If he’s manipulative, he can actually get what he wants/needs from the uncaring adults in his life. He behaves badly because of childhood trauma.

So, with all of these facts in mind, here’s the sequence of events:

Octane is relegated to a task he considers painfully boring (keeping in mind that boredom is one of the worst sensations for the ADHD brain). He is forced to stay in said task by an authority figure who doesn’t listen to his input about what he’d rather be doing or what tasks he might be better suited for.

On top of that, he is teased by someone he considers a close friend (practically family by his own admission) in a way that a) makes light of the situation he finds uncomfortable and b) compares him to an “accountant”, something that is anathema to what he wants to be. Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria kicks in; the comment becomes genuinely hurtful and not just slightly unfunny but well-meaning ribbing.

His intolerance for boredom says “no, we’re not doing that task anymore, let’s go do the fun thing.” Poor impulse control and no buffer to mitigate the effects of poor impulse control say, “the first thought to pop into my head is right, let’s get that dopamine!”

His manipulative tendencies say, “If I make a big fuss, do something stupid, and let Ajay know it’s partially because she was mean to me, then she’ll understand that she hurt me and feel bad about it.” Unresolved trauma means that he doesn’t even THINK to communicate that to her, which would be the HEALTHY thing to do but likely not a method that has ever worked for him in childhood. Instead, he leaves an emotionally manipulative letter and peaces out. 

As of right now, we don’t know what the ULTIMATE outcome is (my money is on him getting his ass kicked TBH). But the IMMEDIATE outcome is that Lifeline feels responsible for something that isn’t her fault and now she and Gibraltar are both going to be put at risk of getting hurt. Octane has also put himself in a position where he’ll probably be hurt. This isn’t going to end well, is what I’m getting at.

NOW. Here’s the thing. The two facts I listed up above are not his fault. Him having ADHD? Not his fault. Him not getting the right help he needed as a child? Not his fault. Him growing up in a dysfunctional environment that had a negative impact on his emotional and interpersonal development? DEFINITELY not his fault. Everything about his behavior based on those two facts makes sense, and I’m not gonna sit here and act like he’s a bad person for being a neurodivergent abuse victim.

But, to paraphrase the very smart Jessica “How to ADHD” McCabe, it may not be his fault, but it is his responsibility--in this case “it” being how he treats other people, which is very much within his control. I get WHY he did it, but he IS being an absolute ass to Lifeline for the second time (that we know of), and that IS wrong. He HAS to learn at some point to not be like this. It’s already temporarily lost him a friendship, and it COULD get him or someone else killed this time around. He’s a grown adult, and despite my/the fandom’s jokes, he does have all his brain cells. At some point he’ll have to realize he can’t treat people like this and adjust his behavior.

To be fair to Octane, I completely understand and acknowledge that getting help and admitting to the things clogging up your brainspace is incredibly hard. Trust me, I have firsthand experience with this one, and my problems are small potatoes in comparison to what’s going on with him. So he’s not necessarily a bad person for not having taken those steps, especially because I’m still not sure he REALIZES he has a problem. Now, if he knew that he was hurting people and continued doing so because “that’s just who I am, they’re the ones who are wrong, actually” against all evidence, then that IS him shirking his responsibilities to other people and himself and I could criticize him for that. But I don’t think he’s at that point yet. Right now he just seems oblivious, which, yeah, we’ve all been in that position where you’re oblivious to your problems even as they’re slowly burning your house down (I cringe looking back on childhood me exhibiting early anxiety symptoms that went unchecked until now, when I’m well past college age).

I also think it would be helpful if someone told him in a CONSTRUCTIVE manner that his behavior is worrying and was able to help him get to that place where he can realize that himself and get help (not saying they should bear the majority of the emotional weight, AM saying that he seems like he needs the extra help and that’s valid, all things considered). Unfortunately...pretty much everyone in Apex Legends is their own flavor of messed up and they ARE in the middle of a crisis, so they’re likely either unable to see it or unable to help because y’know, lot going on.

In conclusion: I say none of this to demonize Octane? I say it because a) I think his character is really neat, flaws and all, hence me referring to him as a “problematic icon”, and b) because I think it does a disservice to his character to ignore his flaws. I don’t want him to be turned from a complex character with a lot of neat stuff going on to an uwu tortured sad boy who’s never at fault. I haven’t seen anyone do that YET (everyone seems to love him for being a trash baby and that’s valid), but, y’know, doesn’t hurt to start the conversation preemptively.

(QUICK sidebar that I didn’t think of until I was tagging his: his privilege as a rich child from a rich family definitely is a contributing factor to his behavior and another stumbling block to him getting help for a lot of reasons? I won’t go into all my thoughts on this because that could be its own essay but tl;dr Rich People often don’t believe in consequences as it is and don’t like to admit to being wrong, and some of this definitely wore off on Octane and is exacerbating the rest of it.)

[indig0g0]

I saw a lot of third party asks stepping in but hi, ACTUAL Gabriel anon back now. No, I did not know he didn't like that nickname because all I know about him is the callout blog and the more recent callout. But that isn't the theft I am talking about. I don't care about Opal. Gabriel has been called out for tracing before. And scamming people. Why is on theft fine but another isn't? Why are you okay with giving one person the chance to change despite the fact that they have given shotty excuses

I wanted to break this ask down into pieces here because there's a lot to unpack here! Also bear in mind this is the LAST ask I will be answering on this, because again... this is about Altar, stealing with definitive, irrefutable proof, from artists in this community and others.

No, I did not know he didn't like that nickname because all I know about him is the callout blog and the more recent callout

If... this is all you know about him as a person, why are you even here?

Why are you trying to derail an entirely separate situation, which has affected 6 or more artists, 2 of whom are IN this community?

Why are you derailing a conversation about someone who has displayed clearly that he's only really ashamed for having been caught? And trying to GOTCHA me, instead of.... actually addressing the problem at hand?

are you okay anon or do you just have a one track mind and are incapable of dealing with and caring about multiple problems at once?

But that isn't the theft I am talking about. I don't care about Opal. Gabriel has been called out for tracing before.

Here's where I'm addressing this piece! Hi!

That callout blog you only know gabriel for? Doesn't present evidence, anywhere on the blog. If I had visual evidence, CONCRETE proof of Gabriel "tracing", that was made within the last 1-2 years when gabriel was an adult... and was more than just the circumstantial "he used the same design motif that i used, clearly I'm the originator of this design which i totally didn't get insp from elsewhere"

don't you think that I... someone who loudly called out someone else for stealing.... would have said something about it by now?

As a grown ass man, I'm perfectly comfortable holding my friends accountable for their bad behavior. I don't believe in enabling people. Because I'm not a yes man.

And scamming people.

So I have a lot of mixed feelings on this part in particular, because like. A lot of the criticisms of Gabriel's professionalism ARE valid criticisms! And he is working on them! With help!

Communication when you have a long wait time is EXTREMELY important!

But "taking a long time to do a commission because you have an unmedicated mental illness, and having to take more commissions anyway because you're poor and have bills to pay a family to feed" and "taking commissions and running away forever" is not the same thing.

Being poor and buying one thing that makes you happy with commission money you received after you've paid your expenses. Is not scamming.

Being poor is not the crime that blog (and many others!) make it out to be, and poor people ARE allowed to have nice things even when they're poor! It's not like he begs 200$ for rent and spends all 200$ on a new switch! Like!

Come on people!

Why is on theft fine but another isn't?

Don't put words in my mouth.

As I mentioned previously in the ask, if you can prove beyond reasonable doubt that Gabriel stole from another artist, I am ALL ears and I will happily have a long conversation with him about it!

Because I'm no one's yes man besides mine and my boyfriend's!

Why are you okay with giving one person the chance to change despite the fact that they have given shotty excuses

Again with the words in my mouth!

So here's the thing!

I'm not opposed to Altar growing from this as a person! I'm not saying we should cancel him forever! In fact, i hate cancel culture as it exists in the vacuum of the FTC because...

All of yall will conflate an actual pedophile making a comeback in the community with someone using the same design motifs and having personal beef with someone else, and act like they’re the same.

But guess what! The pedophiles and their friends are still around and no one says anything (because tragically the original person who called them out was ALSO a fucking freak so OBVIOUSLY it meant the actual proof we outside parties found that those people were lying wasn't real!), but you're all hell bent on driving Gabriel, his sole source of income, and every artist around him into the ground, because none of you wants to think critically about anyone besides someone you ALREADY hated!

BUT BACK TO ALTAR!

I want him to grow from this!

But I also want to hold him accountable for his actions, which have directly and PROVEABLY harmed other artists, in this community AND others! And frankly, his apology left a LOT to be desired!

Even in DMS (which there were many of mind you!) he circled back to how he didn't know/think about how it was wrong, and how he feels bad, but never once ACTUALLY apologized, he ONLY made excuses/“explanations” for himself on why he did what he did and how I should understand his decisions even if I don’t accept them. ):

And you know what?

I challenged him to prove his mettle, settle up with Reikii with definitive proof of the person who gave him the design so Reikii can deal with THAT person, And write an apology that actually addresses our concerns instead of sounding like wishy-washy damage control

and I’m still fucking waiting.

[socialanxietyisabitch]

I hope everyone’s been hanging in there during these times as we all have been home more so than ever and it could really take a toll on mental health. It’s been taking a toll on mine and everything that’s transpired in my life recently has been making me reflect a lot.

Society has put it in everyone’s head that if you still live at home as an adult- you must be a failure. You must be a loser with no goals. None of this is true, but it’s what a lot of people believe. Yet when I look around, a lot of people do still live home, or they have things handed to them, money handed to them, they have a decent relationship where they both live together etc. I haven’t had luck like this, so yes I am still home. I’m a grown ass adult living home. I work, go to class, pay bills, but somehow that isn’t enough.

I got into a very bad fight with my stepdad the other night over all of this. We both almost got arrested. He started making fun of my issues and telling me that I have made up my depression and anxiety and ptsd and mental issues for attention my entire life. That is completely false as he has never even attempted to try and understand any of it. My mother watched him get in my face and then provoke me and then taunt me about my dead father. He told me that him and my dad would talk about how much of a pathetic failure I am. He said I never made my dad proud and I let him down everyday that he was alive. He said it’s pathetic that I couldn’t figure out my life years ago and that I’m still home. I completely lost it and threw something at him. My mom watched all of this and did nothing but then was letting my visibly drunk stepdad call the cops on me. She was going to let me take the fall for the entire argument. I have this all I video so I showed a lot of people that I wasn’t crazy. So I left my house for the past week and I’ve just been reflecting. It’s not good for my mental health to be around toxicity. I’m not saying I’m an angel, but I did not deserve that type of mental abuse. No one does. So now all those words are just motivation to try and just really do what I have to do and leave my house. I sympathize with anyone with family members like this or no one believing your mental health issues. Your feelings are valid, and don’t let anyone question you or your issues. I feel a bit crazy right now, and I’m trying to get my mind right. I like to be open with my life and my stories on here so people can feel less alone. And don’t worry if you’re an adult like me and you still live home. Life is hard. We’re all doing the best we can. And don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. Xo

[mustardprecum]

27 for harringrove please 🥺 (it’dbe appreciated if steve’s the one that’s preggers thank you!)

[27 “I’m pregnant.”]

Steve had decided to try and get pregnant. The notion came to him shortly after El’s birthday, when Steve realized that all his kids were over twenty-one. The abrupt ache of an empty nest got the ball rolling, and after more researching and reading than he’d done during any one year of school, he made his decision.

Most of the people in his life were well meaning when he told them, but also rudely disbelieving. After all, Steve was a single omega in his mid-twenties, mostly living off a trust fund from his parents and a hefty inheritance from his great aunt. Money he was very grateful for, considering he’d never be able to afford owning a house in the new development near downtown with his sporadic part time jobs. 

(Good ol’ Aunt Phyllis would have been stoked to find out that he choosing to be a single parent.) 

The issue with the public perception of his personality was the fact that it was largely based off the person he was in his sophomore and junior year of high school. Steve had grown and changed from the flakey teenager. One could almost say he was literally an adult. 

At least Dustin supported him. Mostly. 

“Steve, you can’t be serious.” 

Dustin sat at the island in Steve’s kitchen, eating a bowl of cut up strawberries that Steve had put out for him. Old habits die hard, and Steve had been one of the few people who could get a young Dustin to eat his fruits and vegetables. “I mean of all the people in Hawkins, in the world, why him?” 

Earl grey tea was kind of gross, but Steve was trying to stop drinking coffee for his caffeine fix. He took his time stirring in a packet of stevia while he considered his answer. 

Billy Hargrove had come along in Steve’s senior year of high school and had promptly become a massive pain in the ass. Although, one thing that set him apart from all the other alpha meatheads was the fact that his taunts and jabs were purely personal for Steve, and never once did he resort to misogyny. 

God, the bar had been so low at that time. 

Over the past ten years, Billy had mellowed out slightly but noticeably. He worked at the mechanic Steve frequented for oil changes and tune ups, and lived in the periphery of Steve’s life because of his association with Max. And he still seized every opportunity to try and rile Steve up by getting in his personal space and commenting on his ‘ugly’ shirts. 

(Steve didn’t know when Billy developed a hatred of polo shirts, but it was apparently long lasting.)  

In the grand scheme of things though, none of it mattered more than one thing: Billy’s genes. He was a dick of the massive variety but goddamn if he hadn’t spent the past ten years being the most gorgeous person Steve had ever seen in his entire life. 

He smoked like a chimney and often had a beer in hand, but his skin was clear, his hair was soft, and his abs were extremely enviable. 

“I don’t want to go through a clinic,” Steve started. He quickly held up his hand before Dustin could start ranting. “I’m not going to ask someone I babysat to donate. I’m not really close with any other alphas in town, and an alpha is my best bet.” 

Dustin knew all of that. As a male omega, Steve would have fertility issues with a beta for scientific reasons he didn’t actually understand. Mike and Lucas had both been presented as options in Dustin’s argument, but the idea was too wrong. 

“Billy is…close enough, but far enough. You know?” Steve set his mug down; he honestly didn’t want to drink his tea. “If he says yes, working on inception will be pretty easy. If he says no, it’s not really a big deal. We’re not friends, so it won’t have to be awkward.” 

Privately, Steve assured himself that it had nothing to do with the crush he used to have on Billy. Therefore, it wasn’t inappropriate to ask. 

“But he’s such a tool,” Dustin said around a mouthful of strawberries. “Do you think he won’t be a tool about it?” 

“God. I know he’s going to be a tool about it. But,” Steve shrugged. “Just think of how cute my baby would be.” 

Dustin raised an eyebrow. 

“I would have a really cute baby, Dustin. And you would have a really cute little baby pseudo-sibling.” 

Poor Dustin, the only child, twenty-three and still wanting that younger sibling. He perked up, still looking skeptical but finally chewing quietly. 

“Plus, it’s all going to be in a contract. No parental or financial obligation,” Steve added to sweeten the deal. “I’ll get a positive test, pay him, and he’ll fuck off to wherever he spends his time.” 

Dustin hummed, drumming his fingers on the table. “I’m still godfather?” 

“Obviously.” 

“Okay,” Dustin bounced, smiling broadly. He was excited for a baby, and when he smiled, he looked like a cheetah cub. “Well, Max said she’d text you his number so…good luck?” 

“Thanks.” 

-

Sending the text was nerve-wracking, even though all he sent was ‘can we get lunch?’ Steve had put his phone face down and tried to distract himself with scrolling through reddit and Tumblr, but waiting for a response was even worse than sending the message. 

He’d followed up with several messages explaining who he was, once it occurred to him that Billy probably had no idea who was texting him. Eventually, Billy finally responded telling Steve to stop blowing up his fucking phone. 

Despite Steve’s fears of Billy’s attitude after that response, he was invited to a Starbucks in between their homes. Steve distantly recalled Max mentioning that she was envious of the studio apartment that Billy was renting over a storefront. How privileged was he that he couldn’t imagine having the same room functioning as the bedroom/living room/public space? 

Billy was already there when Steve arrived. He was sipping a green frappucino and staring down at his phone. 

The last time Steve had seen Billy even in passing was the month before during the Hopper family’s Fourth of July party. He was even more gorgeous than Steve remembered even looking a little grimey like he’d come straight from work. 

“Hey,” he approached the table, trying to smile when Billy’s blue eyes snapped up. “Thanks for meeting me. Mind if I grab a drink real quick?” 

“Depends, pretty boy,” Billy leaned back, smiling in that special way that gave Steve a major sexuality crisis in high school. “Why did you ask me out?” 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Steve whipped his head around as if anyone else cared about the two of them meeting up. No one was looking. He sat down heavily and sighed. “I’m…I have a favor to ask. But I kind of wanted to ease into asking.” 

“Interesting,” Billy drawled. “What could ‘King Steve’ possibly want from little ol’ me.” 

“I’m almost thirty, Billy. Please don’t call me that.” Steve looked down at his hands, maybe this was a bad idea. There was no way Billy would agree to being a donor. 

“Look Harrington, I’m leaving in five minutes so spit it out.” 

“Oh come on,” Steve whined, bouncing his leg. “It’s not the sort of thing you just spit out!” 

Billy slurped loudly at his drink. “You want me to murder someone?” 

“Obviously not. Kind of…the opposite?” Steve winced when his voice went squeaky toward the end. He cleared his throat, deciding to continue because Billy had wrinkled his nose. “Okay, so, I used to babysit a lot and I know how to take care of kids. I miss taking care of kids. And, well, I have money and time, right?” 

“Right,” Billy said blankly. 

“Right,” Steve nodded and took a deep steadying breath. “So I’ve decided that I want to start a family. With a baby. And me. Single.” 

Bringing up starting a family generally brought up the question of Steve finding someone to settle down with. The issue was that he didn’t want a partner or a romantic relationship; he didn’t feel that having a child should presuppose finding a mate.

“But I need a sperm donor and, uh, well,” Steve’s nerves were completely frayed at that point. Which was probably why he ended doing the saddest jazz hands. 

The blank look was gone and Billy’s eyes were practically sparkling, which Steve translated as trouble. He bit his lip, knee still bouncing noisily under the table. 

“A donor,” Billy practically purred. “You want me to get you pregnant.” 

When he phrased it like that, Steve couldn’t help but blush. He cleared his throat, wishing he’d just gotten a drink before bothering to speak to Billy so that he could sip it and buy some time. “Basically. You don’t have to sleep with me, the cup method works fine.” 

“And other than not-sleeping with you,” Billy sounded a little snotty. “What’s in it for me?” 

Only a little mocking was infinitely better than outright refusal. And he was getting to the part Steve was actually comfortable with. “$600 for each attempt,” he said. It was a lowball, but considering it was under the table, the supplemental income wasn’t half bad. “I’m tracking my cycle, so we’d only need to try about two days each month.” 

“And after?” 

Steve paused. “After inception I’ll give you an extra thousand.” 

“No, I mean once you’re pregnant, how does it work?” The serious look on Billy’s face was unnerving. Steve was briefly worried that he was about to say he wanted to stay in the picture. “You know how to take care of kids that don’t go home at the end of the day?” 

“Does anyone?” 

Billy’s face hardened. “You don’t just have a kid on a whim, Harrington,” he said lowly. “Can you actually take care of one for the rest of your life?” 

Living in a town like Hawkins and having a direct relationship with Max meant Steve was familiar with the Hargrove family history. How Billy’s mother abandoned him, how his father abused him, how long he’d lived in that toxic place before finally escaping and taking Max with him when it seemed Neil was turning on her as well. 

Despite how horrible that was, Steve couldn’t help the warm feeling in his chest. 

“I don’t yell, I don’t believe in corporal punishment, and I’m on book four of twenty on my parenting book reading list.” He didn’t add that they were all audiobooks because he had such a hard time reading. “I wouldn’t try to have a baby if I wasn’t ready to do everything I could to give them a good life.” 

Steve hoped his face was as open as he wanted it to be as Billy searched him. Of all the reactions he expected, this hadn’t been one. It made him feel better about Billy as a candidate. 

Finally, Billy slurped his frappucino again and grinned wolfishly. “When do we start?”

Continued on AO3