#New York City street gang

[k-i-l-l-e-r-b-e-e-6-9]

The Warriors (1979)  directed by Walter Hill

[mote-historie]

Bruce Davidson, New York City, from the series Brooklyn Gang, 1959.

Magnum Photos

[maramahan]

Realizing my niche as a ttrpg character-player is “Guy local to (and considered ordinary by) the primary setting/culture who serves as guide and/or handler to the rest of the party”

I just. really enjoy having deep roots within a fantasy world and making sure we get to engage with the fun stuff that’s unique to whatever setting :)

[ulkaralakbarova]

A gangster, Nino, is in the Cash Money Brothers, making a million dollars every week selling crack. A cop, Scotty, discovers that the only way to infiltrate the gang is to become a dealer himself. Credits: TheMovieDb. Film Cast: Nino Brown: Wesley Snipes Scotty Appleton: Ice-T Garald “Gee Money” Welles: Allen Payne Pookie: Chris Rock Stone: Mario Van Peebles Selina: Michael Michele Duh Duh Duh Man: Bill Nunn Park: Russell Wong Old Man: Bill Cobbs Kareem Akbar: Christopher Williams Nick Peretti: Judd Nelson Keisha: Vanessa Williams Uniqua: Tracy Camilla Johns Frankie Needles: Anthony DeSando Reverend Oates: Nick Ashford Prosecuting Attorney Hawkins: Phyllis Yvonne Stickney Police Commissioner: Thalmus Rasulala Don Armeteo: John Aprea Master of Ceremonies: Fab 5 Freddy D.J.: Flavor Flav Frazier: Clebert Ford Prom Queen: Laverne Hart Fat Smitty: Eek-A-Mouse Biff: Gregg Smrz Teacher: Erica McFarquhar Singer at Wedding: Keith Sweat Gigantor: Max Rabinowitz Woman in Hallway: Marcella Lowery Judge: Manuel E. Santiago Prosecuting Attorney: Ben Gotlieb Reporter: Thelma Louise Carter Reporter: Linda Froehlich Bailiff: Christopher Michael Recovering Addict: Kelly Jo Minter Recovering Addict: Tina Lifford Recovering Addict: Erik Kilpatrick Assistant DA: Ron Millkie Kid on Stoop: Harold Baines Kid on Stoop: Sekou Campbell Kid on Stoop: Garvin Holder New Year’s Eve Band – (Guy): Teddy Riley New Year’s Eve Band – (Guy): Aaron Hall New Year’s Eve Band – (Guy): Damion Hall Singers – Spring – (Troop): Rodney Benford Singers – Spring – (Troop): John Harrell Singers – Winter – (Levert): Gerald Levert Singers – Winter – (Levert): Sean Levert Butchie The Doorman: Jimmy Cummings Courtroom Spectator (uncredited): Akosua Busia Prostitute in The Pool (uncredited): Lia Chang Gangster Standing at Bar (uncredited): Jake LaMotta Barber (uncredited): Larry M. Cherry Brides Maid (uncredited): Cynthia Elane Girl in the Window (uncredited): Toni Ann Johnson Connie The Waitress (uncredited): Candece Tarpley C.M.B. Member (uncredited): Chris Thornton Film Crew: Director: Mario Van Peebles Story: Thomas Lee Wright Music Supervisor: Doug McHenry Screenplay: Barry Michael Cooper Casting: Pat Golden Production Design: Charles C. Bennett Director of Photography: Francis Kenny Casting: John McCabe Editor: Steven Kemper Unit Production Manager: Preston L. Holmes Costume Design: Bernard Johnson Original Music Composer: Michel Colombier Music Supervisor: George Jackson Associate Producer: Fab 5 Freddy Associate Producer: Suzanne Broderick Associate Producer: James Bigwood First Assistant Director: Dwight Williams Stunt Coordinator: Jery Hewitt Stunts: Danny Aiello III Stunts: G. A. Aguilar Second Assistant Director: Joseph Ray Production Supervisor: Brent Owens First Assistant Editor: Kevin Stitt Camera Operator: John Newby First Assistant Camera: Gregory Irwin Second Assistant Camera: Myra-Lee Cohen Additional Camera: Ed Hershberger Steadicam Operator: Ted Churchill Production Sound Mixer: Frank Stettner Boom Operator: Keith Gardner Cableman: Rosa Howell-Thornhill Art Direction: Barbra Matis Art Direction: Laura Brock Art Department Coordinator: Roberta J. Holinko Set Decoration: Elaine O’Donnell Script Supervisor: Cornelia ‘Nini’ Rogan Makeup Artist: Diane Hammond Assistant Makeup Artist: Ellie Winslow Hairstylist: Larry M. Cherry Hairstylist: Aaron F. Quarles Wardrobe Supervisor: Barbara Hause Wardrobe Supervisor: Jane E. Myers Wardrobe Assistant: Jill E. Anderson Gaffer: Charles Houston Rigging Gaffer: Martin Andrews Best Boy Electric: Val DeSalvo Key Grip: Robert M. Andres Best Boy Grip: Paul Wachter Dolly Grip: Tom Kudlek Property Master: Octavio Molina Assistant Property Master: Laura Jean West Assistant Property Master: Kevin Ladson Charge Scenic Artist: Jeffrey L. Glave Construction Coordinator: Raymond M. Samitz Special Effects Supervisor: Steven Kirshoff Special Effects Coordinator: Wilfred Caban Second Unit Director: Jeff Lengyel Second Unit Director of Photography: Jacek Laskus Second Unit First Assistant D...

[chungkong-nl]

Director: Walter Hill Stars: Michael Beck, James Remar, Dorsey Wright

Bring your walls to life. 💌 Visit the webshop chungkong.nl today!

Quote: “Warriors… come out to play!” Year: 1979

[asha-mage]

🌶️

The MCU's Spiderman is not a poor execution of Peter Parker's character concept. He's not even poor execution of Miles Morales's character concept.

He is a poor execution of Terry McGinnis's character concept.

Peter Parker and Miles Morales both have so many fundamental pieces to their characters that are just missing for the MCU's Spiderman. Familiar names are floating around him- Aunt May, Mary Jane, Ganke Lee- but the fundamental ideas that make up Peter or Miles arcs just are not there. Themes like Miles's family expectations, Peter's constant money struggles, and the balancing act of doing good vs trying to live your own life are all absent. Even the idea of power and responsibility isn't properly introduced until the THIRD MOVIE when that really should been the central theme from the beginning.

Rather the MCU Spiderman has way more parallels with Terry McGinnis. Both are young hot shot teenagers who end up being taken under the wing of established and experienced hero who is on their way out. Both have complex relationships with their mentor which in a lot of ways serves as the driving force of their character arcs. Both gain high tech suits which enable their heroism. Both are viewed (or at least supposed to be viewed in MCU Peter's case) as heirs to the legacy of this hero.

It falls apart when you get into how they are different. While Uncle Ben is implied to have existed and be dead by the time MCU Peter is introduced in Civil War it's never actually confirmed and never properly comes up. Meanwhile the death of Terry's father is essentially the inciting incident of Batman Beyond: it's what motivates and drives Terry and the murder and it's fallout are the main focus of the first two episodes of Batman Beyond.

What's more MCU Peter's relationship to Tony is grounded in the fact that Tony just shows up one day and essentially taps him to join the Avengers. Bruce by contrast initially tosses Terry out on his ear, and when Terry turns up seeking justice for his father Bruce can't offer him anything but 'go ask the cops for help', and when that goes exactly as poorly as Terry said it would, Terry breaks into the manor steals the Batsuit and goes to stop Powers himself. Terry has active agency in his own choice to be a hero, which helps define his relationship with Bruce and to heroism. While MCU Peter was doing his own superheroics prior to Tony showing up in Civil War (not that he ever does much of that in future movies) his relationship to Tony is defined by Peter's dependence on him and his quest for Tony(/the Avengers)'s approval. And because they don't even bother name drop Uncle Ben or flashback to him, we're left with the impression that the main thing driving MCU Peter is that quest for approval. His motivations are never more complexly explored, and we don't even really see him just running around Queens stopping muggings or car crashes or anything that hints he enjoys or feels the need to actually help people.

And I think that gets into the final and most important difference between the two. Gotham not only needs Batman, it visibly and obviously and terribly needs Batman. Batman Beyond leans into this because decades without a Batman have left Gotham a cyperbunk dystopian hellscape. The city needs someone to stand up to the darkness, to be a symbol of hope, to be aspirational. Terry taking up that mantel means fighting supervillains, yes- but mostly it means doing what the original Batman did. Solving murders, stopping muggings, rescuing people from burning buildings or fighting off street gangs like the Jokerz.

But even in the earliest MCU movies, New York only needs superheroes when the current world ending threat shows up. Otherwise the city is all bright shinny clean streets filled with haplessly content citizens. This is the only reason that Vision's position of 'Our very strength invites challenge' in Civil War makes any sense- because the only purpose of these Superheroes is usually to fight a threat they where somehow responsible for creating. And this problem hits 'friendly neighborhood Spiderman' the hardest because he only has a responsibility to use his great power to solve problems, if their are problems in need of solving. Most of Peter Parker's (and Miles Morales's, Gwen Stacy's, or any other Spiderperson's) day is not fighting alien armies or netherworld gods. It's stopping break ins, rescuing people from car crashes, or dealing with other small scale local threats, that none the less benefit from someone with his abilities to make them better. Either New York in the MCU is an ideal utopian city where the police have everything handled apparently (which ha!) or Peter is apparently not interested in stopping bad things from happening. He spends so much of the first movie basically begging Tony to give him superhero things to do, not realizing that he could go outside and find people that need help on his own.

In conclusion MCU Peter Parker isn't 'regular Peter Parker but not an underdog', or even 'Miles Morales but white'. He's 'Terry McGinnis but without any agency in his own heroism'.

[natsaffection]

heyy this is my first time making a request and idk if it's okay but what if reader is like an anti-hero or villian and when reader gets hurt she shoves up to Natasha's apartment thinking she would maybe help her? idk if it works but I've been thinking about something like this and it would be great if you actually write itt😭😭😭

Lines crossed. | N.R

Avenger!Natasha x AntiHero!Reader

Warnings: Blood, Gore and injurys

Word Count: 2,6k

A/N: These are the stories I like the most. 🙏🏻 And I feel honored, that I can write your first ever request! 🏆

The city of New York was no stranger to chaos, but in recent months, a new shadow had begun to loom over its streets. This shadow was not the kind of evil the Avengers were used to dealing with..This was different. And this, was you, a name whispered in fear among the criminal underworld, a vigilante with a taste for vengeance and a history stained with blood.

You had risen to the top of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s most wanted list, a place usually reserved for supervillains and global threats. Your methods were brutal and unyielding, your sense of justice unwavering. To some, you were a hero. To others, a menace. But to the Avengers, you were a problem that needed solving.

“Another one,” Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow, murmured as she stood over the lifeless body of a notorious gang leader, his blood pooling around him in a grotesque halo. “It’s her again.”

Clint joined her, shaking his head. “She’s getting bolder. This is the third one this week.” Natasha's eyes scanned the scene, taking in the familiar hallmarks of your handiwork. The precision, the brutality, the unmistakable sense of finality. "She’s not hiding anymore. She wants us to know it’s her."

Nick Fury appeared behind them, his expression unreadable as ever. "We need to bring her in. She's crossed too many lines, and now the media's starting to pick up on it. The last thing we need is a vigilante making us look incompetent."

Natasha nodded, her mind already running through the many encounters she’d had with you. Each one had been a battle of wills, fists, and wits. You were good, damn good. But Natasha was determined to be better.

You wiped the blood from your hands, your breathing steadying as you looked at the man you'd just eliminated. He had been a monster, a predator preying on the weak and innocent. You felt no remorse. In your eyes, justice had been served.

You knew the Avengers were close. You could feel their presence like a storm on the horizon. Especially Natasha. Your fights had become a dance of sorts, each trying to outmaneuver the other, each knowing that one day it would come down to a final, decisive confrontation.

Your phone buzzed, pulling you from your thoughts. You glanced at the message: another target, another mission. Your work was never done.

Back at the Avengers' headquarters, the team gathered around a holographic display of the city, pinpointing the locations of your recent activities. "We need to be strategic," Steve said, his voice calm but firm. "She’s not just any criminal. She’s trained, skilled, and she's got a mission."

Natasha’s eyes never left the display. She knew you better than most. She understood your motivations, your drive. And she knew that stopping you would require more than just brute force.

"It’s personal for her," Natasha said quietly. "And if we’re going to bring her in, we need to understand why she’s doing this." The team nodded, each member resolving to bring an end to your bloody crusade. But for Natasha, it was more than just another mission. It was a challenge, a test of her skills and resolve.

You moved through the city like a ghost, your mind focused on the task at hand. You knew the Avengers were watching, waiting. You relished the challenge. Each encounter with Natasha had pushed you to be better, sharper.

But you also knew that the game couldn’t go on forever. One day, it would come to an end. One way or another.As you prepared for your next mission, you couldn't help but wonder: when that day came, who would be the one standing? You or Natasha?

The city was alive with the sounds of sirens and distant traffic, but your focus was razor-sharp. You moved through the shadows, your target's location clear in your mind. You knew the Avengers were closing in, but you thrived on the edge, where danger and adrenaline fused into one intoxicating rush.

It didn’t take long for you to reach your target, a corrupt businessman with ties to multiple criminal organizations. You slipped past his security with ease, your movements precise and silent. As you stood over him, your eyes cold and unyielding, you knew this would send another message to the underworld and the Avengers alike.

Just as you were about to strike, the window shattered, and Natash swung in, landing gracefully on her feet, guns drawn. "Y/n, this ends now," Natasha said, her voice a mix of resolve and urgency. You smirked, stepping back to assess the new threat. "You always know how to make an entrance, Romanoff."

The two of you circled each other, the tension thick in the air. You made the first move, lunging forward with a series of rapid strikes. Natasha countered, your fists and feet a blur of motion. Each move was calculated, each strike intended to find a weakness.

The fight spilled into the hall, your movements fluid and fierce. You were relentless, your skills honed by years of training and combat. But Natasha was no less formidable, her experience and agility a match for your raw power.

In a desperate bid to escape, you knocked over a set of shelves, creating a momentary barrier. You dashed down the corridor, but your path was blocked by Steve. "Going somewhere?" Steve asked, raising his shield.

You didn’t hesitate. You launched yourself at him, your attacks relentless. Steve defended himself with his shield, but your sheer ferocity pushed him back. You knew you had to move fast. Every second counted.

A blast of energy struck the ground near you, and you turned to see Tony Stark hovering in his Iron Man suit. "You’re surrounded. Give it up."

With a quick glance, you calculated your options. You grabbed a nearby fire extinguisher, using it to create a cloud of smoke. In the confusion, you darted through a side door, your escape route planned to the last detail.

In the aftermath, the Avengers regrouped, frustration evident in their expressions. "She’s good," Clint said, rubbing his bruised arm. "We almost had her."

"Almost isn’t good enough," Tony replied, scanning the area for any sign of you. "She’s always one step ahead." Natasha looked at the ground, her mind replaying the fight. She admired your tenacity and skill, but she also knew that each encounter brought them closer to a dangerous tipping point.

"We need to change our approach," Natasha said. "She’s playing a game of survival. We need to make her see that we’re not the enemy." Steve nodded. "Agreed. We need to understand her motivations. If we can reach her, maybe we can end this without more bloodshed."

Weeks turned into months, and the chase between you and Natasha became legendary among the Avengers. Your reputation as a formidable adversary was solidified, but so was Natasha's determination to bring you in. Every encounter became a game of wits and skill, a deadly dance with an undercurrent of something more.

One night, Natasha found herself on a stakeout at a high-end nightclub. Her sources had tipped her off about a major criminal deal going down. She knew you would be there, drawn to the opportunity like a moth to a flame. Natasha blended into the crowd, her eyes scanning for any sign of her elusive target.

Suddenly, she felt a presence behind her. "Looking for someone?" your familiar, flirty voice whispered in her ear. Natasha spun around to find you, dressed to kill and wearing a mischievous grin.

"Yes, you." Natasha said, her voice steady despite the surprise. "You're getting bold." You chuckled, your eyes sparkling with mischief. "And you're getting predictable, Romanoff. I knew you'd be here."

Natasha moved closer, lowering her voice. "This ends tonight. You're coming with me." You raised an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at your lips. "Are you asking me out on a date, or is this another one of your attempts to arrest me?"

Natasha couldn't help but smirk. "Depends on how you look at it." Before Natasha could react, you leaned in, your lips brushing Natasha's ear as you whispered, "Catch me if you can." Then, with a swift movement, you disappeared into the crowd.

Natasha's heart raced as she pursued you through the crowded club. The thrill of the chase was intoxicating, and she couldn't deny the electric connection between you. You were always one step ahead, leaving clues and taunts that kept Natasha on her toes.

The chase led them to the club's rooftop, the city lights sprawling beneath them. You stood at the edge, the wind whipping through your hair. Natasha approached slowly, her eyes locked on you.

"You can't keep running forever.“ Natasha said, her voice a mix of determination and something softer. You turned to face her, your expression unreadable. "I'm not running, Natasha. I'm fighting. Just like you."

Natasha took a step closer, her heart pounding. "We don't have to be enemies, Y/n.. Let us help you." Your gaze softened, and for a moment, Natasha saw the vulnerability beneath the tough exterior. "You don't understand. I've crossed too many lines. There's no going back for me."

Natasha reached out, her hand brushing your arm. "It's never too late to make a different choice. You can Trust me.“ You looked at Natasha, your eyes searching for something. Then, with a sigh, you pulled away. "Maybe in another life, Romanoff."

Before Natasha could react, you leaped off the rooftop, landing gracefully on a fire escape below. Natasha rushed to the edge, but you were already disappearing into the night.

—

One fateful evening, you found yourself cornered by a gang of criminals. You fought valiantly, but the numbers were overwhelming. By the time the dust settled, you were grievously wounded. Blood soaked your clothes, and every step sent waves of agony through your body.

Desperation set in as you stumbled through the dark alleys. You knew going to a hospital was out of the question. The police would arrest you on sight, and SHIELD agents were everywhere. You tried to treat your wounds in an abandoned building, using whatever you could find. With shaking hands, you attempted to stitch a deep gash on your side, but the pain was too intense and your vision blurred.

Realizing the severity of your injuries and your inability to treat them alone, you remembered, „You can Trust me.“ You had placed a small tracking device on Natasha’s shoe during one of your fights, anticipating you might need to find her someday.

The rain pelted the city in relentless sheets, washing away the grime of the day. You stood in front of Natasha's apartment door, your breath coming in shallow gasps. You leaned heavily against the frame, your vision swimming. Despite the pain, you forced a playful smile onto your lips. You had to get inside. You had to see Natasha.

With a trembling hand, you knocked on the door. It felt like an eternity before it finally swung open. Natasha stood there, her expression a mix of surprise and annoyance.

"How did you find me?" Natasha asked, her voice cold. You tried to straighten up, wincing as you did. "Miss me already, Romanoff?" you said, your voice weak but carrying a hint of flirtation. "Couldn't stay away.."

Natasha's eyes narrowed. "You've got a lot of nerve showing up here. Why are you here?" Ignoring the question, you leaned against the doorframe, your legs barely holding you up. "Thought I'd drop by... see your lovely face," you managed, your vision beginning to darken around the edges.

Natasha's patience snapped. She grabbed her phone, her fingers quickly dialing S.H.I.E.L.D.'s number. "Enough with the games. I'm done with this."

Your heart sank, your body swaying. You tried to take a step forward but stumbled, your strength failing. You collapsed into Natasha, who caught you out of reflex. As your full weight pressed against her, Natasha's eyes widened in horror. Blood soaked through your clothes, warm and sticky, covering Natasha's hands.

"Oh my God.." Natasha whispered, her phone slipping from her fingers as she cradled your limp body. "Y/n, what happened??" Your head lolled to the side, your eyes struggling to stay open. "Guess I... pushed it too far this time..“ you murmured, your voice barely audible.

Natasha quickly assessed the situation, her mind racing. "We need to get you inside.“ she said, her tone urgent. She half-carried, half-dragged you into the apartment, laying you on the couch. Blood pooled on the floor, and Natasha's hands shook as she grabbed her first aid kit.

"Stay with me, Y/n," Natasha urged, tearing open your shirt to reveal a deep, gaping wound along your side. The sight of old scars crisscrossing your chest made Natasha's heart clench. "God, what did you do?!“

She worked quickly, her training kicking in. She poured antiseptic over the wound, her hands moving with practiced precision. Your body trembled with pain, your fingers digging into the couch. "God, that burns," you whimpered, tears streaming down your face. "F-Fuck, Natasha, it h-hurts..“

"I know it does," Natasha said, her voice softening. "But I need you to stay with me. I don't have any narcotics, so this is going to be rough."

Your eyes were glazed with pain, your breathing shallow. "Just do it…" you managed to say. Natasha threaded a needle, her fingers slick with blood. She began to stitch the largest wound, her focus intense. Your body shook with each stitch, your teeth clenched to hold back screams. The raw pain was almost unbearable, and low moans of agony escaped your lips despite your best efforts.

"You're doing great," Natasha said, her own voice trembling. "Just a few more." Your fingers clawed at the couch, your knuckles white. "Natasha... please, hurry," you gasped, your voice barely a whisper.

Natasha's heart ached at the sight of your suffering. "I'm almost done," she said, her tone soothing. "Just hold on a little longer."

Your eyes fluttered, your strength fading fast. "Sorry... for your couch...and for everything," you whispered, tears mixing with the blood on your face. "I never wanted it to be like this.."

Natasha's eyes were full with understanding. "We'll talk about it tomorrow. Right now, I need you to hold on." She finished the stitches, then bandaged the wounds as best she could. Your body relaxed slightly, your breathing still labored but more steady.

"It's done," Natasha said, sitting back and wiping her forehead. "You're going to be okay." Your eyes closed, exhaustion overtaking you. Natasha grabbed a blanket and covered you, then sat beside you, holding your hand gently. "I'm here," Natasha whispered. "You're safe now. Rest and we’re sorting everything tomorrow out, okay?"

You whimpered softly, your body shaking from the pain and the cold. Natasha gently brushed a strand of hair from your face, her expression tender. "I never thought I'd see you like this," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Your eyes fluttered open, focusing on Natasha with difficulty. "Guess... I can't always be the strong one.“ you murmured, a weak smile playing on your lips.

Natasha's heart tightened. "You don't have to be strong all the time," she said softly. "It's okay to let someone help you." You nodded weakly, your eyes drifting closed again. "Thank you, Natasha.“ you whispered.

Natasha squeezed your hand gently, "You're going to be alright," she said, her voice filled with determination. "I won't let anything happen to you."

As she sat there, watching over you, Natasha knew that this was a turning point. You had come to her for help, and that meant there was still hope. She would find a way to bring you back from the edge, no matter what it took.

Part 2

[kaytheday]

Things that were a Culture Shock for Dallas Winston from New York to Tulsa

Being able to see the stars for the first time. He is so surprised about how full the sky is, not that he would ever tell anybody that.

No public transportation (there is no way baby Dally ever learned how to drive and no way that he has a drivers lisence now) Buck probably taught him to drive.

He probably misses the subway and hates the bus system that Tulsa operates under (which is why he’s stealing Bucks car all the time).

Lowkey the rats. He is probably overestimating quite how much vermin there is.

The first time Darry caught him stuffing a towel in the sink drain at like 10:00 pm before they go to a drag race he was very confused.

"Why are you doing that Dal?"

"I’m planning on sleeping here tonight and if you don't keep these things plugged up when you go to bed you're gonna have a full rat invasion on your hands. They can get through pipes smaller than these you know Darrel.”

"Ratvasion up in here!"

"Shut up Two-Bit!"

Streets with nobody on them and less crowded spaces in general. Dallas is constantly asking where all the people are. Everyone else just keeps telling him that this is a normal amount of people?

Another thing that I think about is how Dallas was probably on high alert right after he moved. He was constantly used to the noise and the fighting and he was pretty paranoid about people following him and things like that because of the crime he was involved with in the city.

He was jumpy and always ready for a fight. He also thought that most of the neighborhoods in Tulsa were run by gangs. They are not (if anything they are loosely run)

The prices of things? In New York things are just more expensive. This is why he is always treating Johnny and Ponyboy because he sees that paying for three people in Tulsa is as much as paying for himself in New York.

Also the first time he got paid for barrel racing by Buck he thought he was getting gypped because it didn't seem like a lot compared to what he was getting in New York. He literally almost punched Buck's teeth out on the spot.

The accent. He would always get annoyed with how slow people talked.

"Come on! Spit it out and get to the point! I don't got all day!" He's done this on many occasions to store cashiers, people at the bar, and so many others. He gets so sick of waiting for them to say their bit.

Also the southern manners piss him off as well. He hates responding to ‘how are you?’ Or the stupid ‘have a nice day’. He’s complained more than once on the unnecessary small talk and manners.

This could also be why he comes off as rude and cold to Ponyboy especially and many others. He is blunt and says what’s on his mind and he hates small talk and unnecessary interactions. (as most New Yorkers do!) He will almost always cut an interaction short doing anything he can to get out of it. This is often what differentiates him from other southern hoods.

New Yorkers talk fast and they use a lot of complicated slang that the rest of the United States doesn't use. A lot of people get confused when he's talking to them and we know how Dallas is easily frustrated.

"I've been schleppin' your stuff around all day Buck, it's brick out 'ere and I come home to this Schlock? I gotta go lie down!" (love you and your New Yorker accent Dallas 🥰)

Let me know if you guys have any more. I love this concept.

This is inspired by some tags left on a post by @damthosefandoms

[caplanbuckybarnes]

Empire Ashes (mobster steve rogers)

Summary: the pair of you watch as his empire burns to the ground, vowing to destroy the enemy.

WC: 73

Warnings: mafia au,angst, smoking

Read on Ao3!

--

The city lights flickered through the haze of cigarette smoke and street fog, casting an eerie glow on the world below. It was after midnight, but the streets of New York never truly slept. Not the way you knew them. Not the way Steve Rogers knew them. The underbelly of the city was alive and thriving, pulsing with the dangerous energy of gangs, crime lords, and power grabs.

You stood beside Steve on the rooftop of one of the tallest buildings downtown, looking out at the kingdom of corruption that sprawled beneath you. His jaw was clenched tight, his blue eyes cold and calculating as he surveyed the world he had fought to control for years. It was his city now—his empire—but the crown felt heavier by the day.

"I told you this would happen," you said, lighting a cigarette and taking a slow drag. "The Starks... they won’t stop until they tear us apart from the inside."

Steve didn’t respond right away. He was too focused, too consumed by the storm brewing within him. His hands were buried deep in the pockets of his tailored black coat, but you could sense the tension in his body, the barely-contained rage that simmered just below the surface.

He’d been different since the Stark family had made their move. They’d hit one of his warehouses and killed men who had sworn loyalty to him. It wasn’t just a power play—it was a declaration of war.

Finally, he spoke, his voice low and dangerous. "They think they can take this from me." He laughed, a humorless, bitter sound. "They think they can burn it all down."

You stepped closer to him, flicking the cigarette away and folding your arms across your chest. "So what’s the plan, Rogers? You going to let them bleed you dry, or are you going to do something about it?"

Steve turned to you then, his expression hard, but there was a flicker of something else—something darker, something more feral. "I didn’t build this empire just to watch it crumble. I gave everything for this city." His voice dropped lower, more menacing. "If they want a war, I’ll give them one."

A thrill ran through you at his words. You had seen Steve Rogers at his most ruthless, his most unforgiving, but there was something about him now, something that felt different. This wasn’t just a retaliation—it was a declaration of dominance. The man who had risen from nothing was ready to tear it all down just to prove that no one could take from him what he had earned.

"Let’s burn this city to the ground," you whispered, the words filled with a dark excitement that mirrored his own.

Steve’s gaze snapped to yours, and for a moment, everything else fell away. The weight of the city, the war on the streets, the blood on his hands—it all seemed distant as he focused on you, the one person who had been by his side through it all.

A slow, dangerous smile spread across his lips. "You’re not scared of what happens next?" he asked, his voice low, a challenge in his tone.

You shook your head, stepping closer, your eyes never leaving his. "I’m not scared of anything as long as I’m with you."

There was a silence between you, the tension thick in the air. You’d been drawn to Steve’s darkness from the moment you met him, and now, standing beside him at the brink of a full-scale war, you knew you’d follow him anywhere.

Steve reached out, pulling you close, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, "Then let’s show them who really owns this city."

The next few hours were a blur of action. Orders were given, calls made, alliances tested. Steve moved like a man possessed, every step calculated, every decision ruthless. He wasn’t just playing defense anymore—he was going on the attack.

And you were right there beside him, his shadow, his partner in crime, watching as the city began to buckle under the weight of his wrath.

As the first explosion rocked the city in the distance, a fiery glow lighting up the skyline, you couldn’t help the smile that crept across your face.

"You weren’t kidding," you said, your voice barely audible over the chaos.

Steve smirked, his eyes reflecting the flames that began to engulf the city. "I never do."

--

tags

EVERYTHING PERM: @nekoannie-chan @kjs-s @notyourtypicalrose @mistressofallthingsgeeky

MARVEL PERM: @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @late-to-the-party-81 @capsthot @endlesstwanted @kenzieam @dis-plus-fanfic-reblog-writes

STEVE ROGERS: @nicoline1998enilocin @amelia-song-pond @hallecarey1 @libbymouse @fandom-princess-forevermore @animal-feather @saiilorstars

[k-i-l-l-e-r-b-e-e-6-9]

The Warriors (1979)  directed by Walter Hill

[screamforyani]

warnings: noncon, knife play, choking

wc. 1.9k

friday nights were reserved for the gang, because after a hellish week of academics, you were itching for a break. the eight of you were at chad and ethan’s dorm this time, splurging whatever alcohol they had on deck. you weren’t at all surprised to find that they had barely anything edible in the kitchen other than beer and that was specifically why you ordered a pizza on your way over. multiple boxes. chad ate like a bear. 

with the ghostface killings resurfacing, things had been drastically different in town lately, which was why the eight of you decided to stick together (like you didn’t already do that). even with the wickedness surrounding you in such close proximity, you were glad your friends proved to be a great distraction from the fact that bodies were probably dropping as you spoke.

“i’m just saying,” you started, throwing a pizza crust at chad’s head for a stupid remark he had made. “anika and mindy are self-explanatory, chad is a textbook fratboy, quinn calls herself sex positive, and even tara could get some if sam wasn’t so far up her ass.”

“thanks a lot,” sam replied, deadpan.

“my point is,” you continued. “ethan is the token virgin of the group and he just might die un-deflowered.”

mindy laughed at ethan’s expense, which he clearly wasn’t particularly happy about, but he didn’t say anything.

chad threw his arm over ethan’s shoulder and came to his roomie’s defense, “not too much on my boy now. come on, he’s got the looks. hey, man, show us that smile.”

rather than smiling himself, chad forced ethan’s lip’s into a grin with his fingers. 

“see,” chad said. “he’s a lady killer. look at that smile.”

“i’m swooning,” tara joked.

you snickered.

that was the beginning of the end.

you didn’t think much of your jokes. you were just poking fun at ethan, that was all. you weren’t trying to be malicious. they were just jokes. mildly mean jokes.

the clocked ticked past midnight and eventually you all started to disperse. with a killer on the loose, you guys traveled at a minimum of pairs at night, so quinn volunteered to walk you home and stay the night.

there was something in the air that night, other than the little nip and the dark, scattered clouds hanging above you. something inexplicably dark, though that was could probably be reasonably explained by your paranoia, since there was at least one killer on the hunt for victims in new york city. you didn’t want to be one of them, though considering you were friends with the woodsboro survivors, it went without saying you were a likely target.

“quinn,” called out some dude you hardly recognized on the street. 

quinn glanced his way, waving. 

“got a sec?” he asked. 

you wanted to roll your eyes at this point. probably one of her hook-ups, because she was so ‘sex positive,’ as she kindly called it.

“uh,” quinn drawled, making a face. she glanced back at you. “i kind of don’t.”

you shook your head, giving her a pat. “it’s fine. go. the building is right up the block, we’ll be okay.���

“are you sure?”

“mm-hm,” you hummed. “the door’ll be locked, but i’ll wait up.”

“be safe,” quinn whispered, giving you a thumbs up. 

you waved her off. “you, too.”

then, you started walking towards your place. it was fine; somewhat chilly, but fine. you rubbed your arms, wishing you would have layered up a little more. you were definitely going to steal one of chad’s hoodies the next time you were over, not that he had to know.

out of nowhere, you heard a noise by an alleyway. you froze in place, stiffening. that was very, very strange. it’s okay, you reassured yourself, scanning the dim alleyway. there was nobody, as far as you were concerned. no one’s there. besides, it wasn’t like a killer was going to abruptly snatch you into an alleyway.

except that was exactly what happened.

you screamed, loud enough for someone to hear, that was if there was anybody nearby. unfortunately for you, it was just you and whoever the hell was in this ghostface outfit whose mask eyes you were staring into. he had you against a wall, struggling, because like hell you would go down without a fight.

that was until he pointed that goddamn knife at you and said in that ghost face voice, “stay still or i’ll slice your throat for all your friends to find.”

you stilled instantly, tears forming in your eyes, though you fought them with everything you had. you were stronger than this. “what do you want?” you croaked.

he dragged the knife down your chest, making you hold your breath, and ripped your shirt open. “you.”

you sucked in a breath.

“if you’re good, i’ll let you go. and if you’re not…,” he trailed off, bringing the knife back up and applying just enough pressure at your throat to scare you, but not cut you. “i’ll gut you like a fish.”

the look of terror on your face made him laugh and you just swallowed, trying to damp your dry throat. but it was no use. not when he was flipping up your skirt and cutting off your panties. you wanted to fight back, but you were too scared of what would happen if you failed to flee. besides, according to quinn’s dad, the killer was probably somebody already in your lives, which meant even if you escaped now, they could come back and kill you whenever they got ready. essentially, it was a lose-lose situation.

“are you going to be a good girl?”

you bobbed your head. 

the killer lifted your chin up with the side of the knife. “i want to hear you say it.”

“i’ll be… i’ll be a good girl,” you whispered.

that seemed to please him, because he moved the knife and lifted you against the wall just before sliding into you without warning. you made a noise, caught off guard, but you doubted he really cared to warn you. or prepare you, for that matter. he went deeper with every thrust, slowly but surely filling you to the hilt, and a single tear dropped down your cheek.

you were rendered absolutely helpless. he still had that knife on him and you knew he wasn’t afraid of butchering you if that was what it a look, plus his fingers were digging into your hips as he hissed in ecstacy, wallowing in the heat of you.

“you feel so good,” he groaned. “how’s it feel to know all you’ll ever amount to in life is being a little slut?”

“i’m not…,”

“you are,” he snarled, menacing. “hooking up with random guys knowing there’s a killer waiting to spill your guts out at any given moment? if you wanted to die a whore so badly, all you had to do was ask.”

die a whore, you thought, baffled. it reminded you of earlier tonight, when you said ethan might die a virgin. of course, you didn’t make that connection. ethan, a killer? pfft. he could barely look you in the eyes for too long. 

it was maddening that you kind of liked the feeling of his cock dragging against your walls, whoever he was in the first place. you were fighting the moans of pleasure, but the more degrading words spilled from his mouth, the more you were tightening around his size. not to mention that he filled you perfectly.

most of what you heard, trapped between his chest and an alleyway wall, was his uncontrollable groans of pleasure, though altered because of the stupid voice device attached to his outfit. which made him completely undistinguishable and it was impossible to identify him.

all you could do was quite literally watch him take you, whether you wanted it or not. it was brutal how he fucked you up against the wall, giving you nowhere to run or hide. you put your hands against his chest idly, just to have someplace to keep them.

when a moan slipped out, you covered your mouth with one of your palms, much to the killer’s amusement. “not so fast,” he said, moving your hand and taunting you with that damn knife again. “i want to hear you. if you weren’t a whore, you wouldn’t like my cock so much.”

you whimpered, “i… i don’t…”

“lying will get you chopped up,” he interjected. 

you swallowed.

“can’t wait to cream this tight pussy. maybe i should i knock you up so that you’ll always remember this occasion,” ghostface mused aloud, making you instantly panic. 

you writhed, trying to escape his hold. “no, no, please. please don’t. i’ll do anything - i’ll do whatever you want.”

“i already have everything i want right here,” ghostface said, cutting up your bra and tossing it into oblivion to never be seen again. you stiffened when you felt the cold blade against your bare, naked breasts. the message was subtle, but clear, and you immediately froze.

the cool air was throttling you alive, thanks to your exposed skin, but you could hardly feel it against the feeling of warmth inside you, spreading to your head and thighs from between your legs.

you were so close, that you knew. you could feel it building against your will. though you wanted to fight it, it was impossible with how he was hitting you in all the right spots. you might have hated it, but your body knew what it wanted and you couldn’t tell it anything different.

your sounds pitched louder, which was a weakness to the ghostface, because you sounded like heaven itself and he couldn’t shake the urge to fill you to the brim even if he wanted. and you knew not cumming inside you was probably the very last thing on his mind. if anything, a guy of this nature would do it solely because it was the opposite of what you wanted.

the last thing you remembered hearing for a couple of minutes was the sound of the knife dropping against the cold, hard ground before he wrapped his fingers around your throat, effectively choking you out. you climaxed at one point, but it was all a blur, and by the time you could think normally again all you could feel was his load dripping out of your cunt, spilling down your legs. you felt dirty.

“you were very, very good,” ghostface said, setting you back down. your knees wobbled and you groped the wall to anchor yourself.

what you were least prepared for, however, was the moment when he threw off his mask and revealed his true self. 

you gawked, betrayal stirring in your chest. “fucking ethan?”

he smiled wickedly. “surprise.”

you felt a number of things, but fear was your primary emotion. “you’re not… the killer, are you?” 

“of course not, silly,” ethan replied. “i just wanted to scare you a little. think of it as revenge.”

you silently narrowed your eyes at him. you weren’t sure if you believed him or not, because you didn’t know what to believe right now. you were in shock. 

ethan tilted his head, creeping a little closer to you. still smiling. “you don’t believe me.”

you were just trying to make sense of it. squinting, you asked, “why go this far, then?” 

“because you have to learn,” he said, this sinister look to him that you’d never seen before. usually, he was just cute and dorky. but he was unrecognizable right now.

for a long second, you just stared into his eyes, before darting to the ground to pick up the knife. only, he was a step ahead of you, swiping it up and pointing it at you until your back met the wall again. “you’re a smart girl, but ignorance is bliss,” he hissed. “now if i were you, i wouln’t mention a word of this to anyone.”

you gulped.

[agirlnamedbone]

from Morris Huberland's "Girl Gang" series // 1940s/50s // New York City

[thegirlfromblackwater]

If the Van der Linde Gang lived in Modern Times (Modern Au)

Life gives you funny ideas...and I'm going to write them down

Arthur

Would live on a ranch in Montana or Wyoming as a rancher

Offers services like trail rides, lessons, and boarding

Has a herd of cattle

Spends every Sunday watching Rodeos on TV

Watches while sitting in his favorite worn-out armchair

Always has a cold beer and a snack or his dinner while watching

Has a pickup truck that's a bit filthy on the inside. Addresses his car as a "she."

Treats it like a horse: calls it a "good gurl."

Has a mounted Trout and some taxidermy on the walls

The Wifi at the ranch is spotty..doesnt understand why guests need it when they're surrounded by nature

Network Name: MorganRanch Password: Ynnel123

Tried to fix the router once but not exactly tech savvy. Ended up punching it

Texts Albert Mason sometimes

Dutch

Definitely lives in a city either Los Angeles or New York City

Lives in a Snazzy Penthouse in the clouds with a skyline

Works as a motivational speaker

Wears a lot of bling

Has a bar in at his place

Molly always tries to find a way in

Calls Hosea a lot

Has a weird fetish for black, red and white furniture.

Still loves reading books by Evelyn Miller despite that the writer is a nobody living in Idaho

John, Abigail & Jack

They probably live out west on a farm (very much like Beechers Hope)

John works on the ranch and also has side multiple side jobs (thanks to Abigail)

Jack spends his time in the school library

Abigail is obsessed with this one bakery

Molly

Lives in whatever city Dutch lives in

Tries to make herself at home in the penthouse

Famous on social media for her makeup tutorials

The neighbors can usually hear Molly & Dutch fighting

Dutch: "Not now Miss O'shea" Molly: "Pig!"

Bill

Lives somewhere in the Midwest

Works as a truck driver for Walmart

spends a lot of his life on the road

Has a bit of road rage

likes rest stops

when he's not working, he is a part of a biker gang

has a tattoo sleeve and wears a white wife beater

one of those bikers that wears a bandana with the American flag on it

Marybeth

Probably lives in a quaint town on the east coast

Works in a bookstore during the day and is a freelance writer in her free time

Lives in a cute townhouse with a small garden in the front full of flowers.

Her house is cozy

has a seating area with big windows that look out over the street

spends her time writing and reading there

likes to sit at cafes and drink coffee

Lenny

Is a full-time university student by day and bartender by night

Lives in Chicago or Atlanta

Probably double majoring in Business and literature (if that combination even exists)

Lives his single life to the fullest

Mostly an A student who goes full ham on the weekends when partying

Micah

Lives in Las Vegas

Sells illegal drugs

Has no money because he gambled too much

Stays in different hotels

Owns a pawn shop

Everything for sale there was smuggled across the border

Has dealings with the cartels & other shady characters

Hosea

Lives a quiet life out west

Goes to his lake house on the weekends to go fly fishing

Reads a lot of books

Also likes to go hunting

Is a part time English teacher who teaches children to read

Talks to Dutch by phone

Sometimes visits Arthur and stays at his Ranch

Uncle

Lives in a trailer park in Florida where the weather is always warm and the cold won't bother his illness

Sits on a folding chair outside his mobile home

Plays the Banjo

Drinks a beer

Is a complete mess inside

Doesn't own much furniture

Can't work because of the Lumbago

Sweats a lot

Naps and snores too loud

Lives next to a swamp

Javier

Lives in Arizona

Lives in the desert

Grows cactuses

Owns a Music shop

Travels around playing at local bars

Works part time as a music teacher at the local high school

Has a YouTube where he shows off his music

Sadie

Probably lives in a city like Dallas or Denver

Works as a cop

Likes to catch people for speeding and sits on the side of the highway

eats Chick-fil-A while waiting

Watches Dateline

Carries a Taser

Always looks sexy in her uniform

Charles

Definitely lives in a cabin out west

works as a conservationist

Likes National Parks

Goes fishing with Arthur

supports and donates to the Bison Sanctuary (if one even exists)

Likes Camping

Trelawny

Lives a wealthy life in Charleston, South Carolina

Lives in a large southern mansion

Wears a robe to sleep

Has a whole walk-in closet full of clothes and accessories

Has a sauna in the basement where he relaxes

Owns a bunch of fancy cars: He loves his Bentley

Reverend Swanson

Probably lives in Philadelphia

Still works part-time at the church

Mostly spends his time helping people with addictions

Hosts an AA meeting three times a week

Rescues crackheads from the street

Mostly sober

Wrote a memoir on his journey to recovery

Sean

Lives in Boston

Likes the university/young people vibe

works at a pub

Everyone's favorite Bartender

Makes customers laugh

goes back to Ireland once a year

Takes Karen with him sometimes

Karen

Lives in Portland, Oregon

Works at a bar as a bartender and a stripper

Good Pole Dancer

Her large tits are popular amongst the men

Puts on shows in the evening

Talks to Sean a lot

Gets Hammered

Strauss

Works in Finance in New York City

Is a Workaholic

Has no friends

Goes back to Austria every few years

Boring to talk to

Always on a work call

Listens to Classical Music

Tilly

Lives in Nashville, Tennessee

Visits Marybeth a lot

Wants to be a Nurse

Likes taking care of people

Wants to travel around the world

Pearson

Lives somewhere in New England

Owns a restaurant and catering business

The restaurant is interestingly enough called "Pearsons"

Probably has a wife and some kids

Loves Maine Lobster one of those people that wears a bib when eating it because he's messy

Is a good Butcher

Susan Grimshaw

Lives in Florida

Is a housekeeper

Cleans uncles' mobile home once a week

Tries to control Tilly and Marybeth from miles away

disgruntled

[gooeseyleo]

Tell me a bit more about your Alopex please

Ah, Alopex is not a part of the Gooseyleo AU (maybe I could do a cameo sometime!) but I shall share! buckle up boys, I got a lot to cover!

She was purchased from a fur farm as a kit, was taken to New York to her new owner, and was mutated when the oozquitoes were first released. She fled the only home she really knew, cuz yk, they didn't jive with the whole "house pet being a senient mutant all of a sudden" thing, and winds up in the Hidden City. There she falls in with the downtrodden/rougher side of life there, with only her wits to keep her alive. She is eventually taken in by Bruce, and becomes a member of the Masters of Barbarianism. Bruce raises her alongside his birthson Kai. They hate each other. Or rather, Kai hates her for taking Bruce's attention from him. ANYWAY, that's a bit of a can of worms to get into here, but here is Kai in all his angsty glory.

When she gets older, she decides she wants to strike out on her own (Gang life is surprisingly rigid) and Bruce allows her until it is his time to step down as leader. So she starts bounty hunting to support herself. Bounty hunters are a regulated service in the Hidden City, but there is also illegal bounty hunting. Alopex does both. Which is how she ends up kidnapping Leo.

Basically, the octopus dude from Bad Hair Day becomes a serious gang leader, evil hair and all, and he wants revenge on Leo for getting him arrested (and maybe some other stuff down the line happens lol). So Alopex takes the job, and completes it flawlessly. She's off to tuck away the extra cash when a very pissed off Raph stops her on the street and demands that she return his brother. Turns out, Raph is the Hidden City's newly appointed sheriff, and it would put Alopex out of legit work for good if the Council of Heads found out that she was illegally bounty hunting for crimelords. So with that leverage, she agrees to help Raph get Leo back.

Their banter is nonstop. Alopex proposes that sometimes the law is unjust and not all criminals are bad people, just people the messed up Hidden City system failed. She also recognizes that some people are genuinely bad, but they too "have to be" to survive. Raph is a bit goody two-shoes about it, citing his own rough homelife and how it led him to want to do right for others. Alopex admires his dedication to justice, but thinks him ultimately naive of what the Hidden City is really like and how it works. etc etc Growing up with the Masters taught her the definition of "right" tends to change in favor of whoever has the upper hand.

ANYWHO they sneak in and get Leo back, but are ultimately caught. Turns out, octopus man doesn't like Alopex reneging on their deal, and after a short discussion, orders to have her thrown from the several stories tall building.

Raph catches her. He catches her attention too. With Leo's reluctant help, they all escape and return home safe and sound. Alopex is bewildered by the caring family Raph returns to. Despite her charistmatic and foxy personality, she didn't really grow up in a loving home like Raph. Complicated and difficult, but loving nonetheless.

Very long story short, she returns to bounty hunting and Raph resumes his work. Raph continues partnering with her as sheriff from time to time. They naturally grow closer, much to Leo's frustration, have a mutual attraction, and ya know

love and stuff happens :3

[finelinevogue]

take a break

summary - you and harry arrive at your nyc hotel for a little getaway

warnings: swearing? alludes to sex but nothing much, bit of kissing, just fluffy really?!

word count: +1.9k

pairing: boyfriend!harry x reader

It had been a long flight to New York City, but you’d made it.

The first getaway of the year and you’d chosen the city that never sleeps as your destination, because not a minute of this trip would be spent not immersed in the wonders of New York.

"You don't know where you're going, do you?" You asked condescendingly, as Harry walked you down a street you'd walked down twice now. 

"H, baby, you're so main character that there are about 10 million fanfics written about you with many people fantasising that they were me." You told him, hoping he would understand that you couldn't be arsed to aimlessly walk around anymore. 

"H, baby, you're so main character that there are about 10 million fanfics written about you with many people fantasising that they were me." You told him, hoping he would understand that you couldn't be arsed to aimlessly walk around anymore. 

"Ok that's weird." Harry turned to face you with a scrunch of his nose in distaste.

He hated being reminded of who he was to millions of other people that weren't you. One night he'd even told you that he was considering running away from it all - building his own island if he had to - just to spend the rest of his life loving you and embracing normality. You'd told him he was crazy, but when he asked whether you'd run away with him you had not hesitated in saying yes.

"It's true. I’ve read some." You chuckled as you remembered those that you had read. Harry as a gang leader. Harry as a painter. Harry as a tattoo artist - that one, you had to admit, had been hot.

"'Course you have," he laughed at you and pulled you a little as he prompted you to cross the road, "You just love me sooo much."

"Obviously." You rolled your eyes at how he could think anything else of you.

It was twenty minutes later that you were stepping out of the lift with all your belongings.

You were so looking forwards to room service and bed, beginning to think about what you could have to eat; toast, eggs, raspberries. It was the kind of hotel where if you ask, no matter how bizarre, you receive. 

Harry, after much persuasion, had offered to pay for a room in a luxury hotel he knew in Soho called The Dominik - more specifically the penthouse. You felt terrible for Harry to be spending so much on you, you also knew your budget wouldn't even let you stay in NYC let alone in a nice apartment in Soho. You had asked Harry what you could give him in return, which ended in you dropping to your knees and giving him something to remember. 

"After you, love." Harry used the key card to swipe the door before letting you in first, like the gentleman he is.

"Thank you." You gently replied, walking into the grand room and immediately feeling small at the top of the city.

It took no time to notice the sparkling lights of New York shining up at you through the floor-to-ceiling windows at the far end of the room. You were higher than any building around, getting the perfect view of the city as its heart beats.

You wheeled your suitcase to the foot of the neatly made bed, leaving your bag next to it and jumping onto it to be absorbed into its fabrics. You smiled, face down in the bed, at the thought of you finally being in the one city you'd forever dreamed of visiting. Work commitments and money had been cruel to you and you'd given up hope in ever being here, but alas here you were. 

Not expecting Harry to jump on top of you, you let out an ugly squeal as you felt his body flatten against yours. 

"This is nice." Harry sighed happily, finding comfort in having you so close and paying no attention to the fact your insides were soon to become your out.

"Get off, y’fucking lump." You struggled to speak against his weight, but laughed nonetheless. He didn't listen fully to your request and instead just dropped his head off your back and onto the mattress beside you. Your felt his breathe against your neck and so turned your head carefully. 

Met by the eyes that captured your heart so long ago, you smiled.

Waking up each day you had to remind yourself that he was even yours, like you were his, because it seemed so fantastical. The perfect man beside you smiled when he caught sight of yours, always saying it was his favourite feature about you.

He moved the mess of hair off your face so he could lean in to kiss you once, twice, three times. You hummed as his lips melted against yours like butter. His hand snaked around to cup your cheek and force his lips deeper onto yours, making you lightly moan against him. 

"Harry?" You whispered as you pulled away, kissing the small cross inked onto his hand just the once.

"Yes, m’love?" He didn't look into yours eyes, solely focusing on your lips and how plush they looked after him leaving his mark. He even kissed you again, not being able to resist himself. You were too divine for him to not cherish every moment. 

"Thank you for making me happy." You said, getting all mushy on him for a moment. New York felt like a good place to tell him that he was your source of happiness - something you would be forever grateful for. 

"Thank you for letting me make you happy." He replied, to which you knew he was talking about those moments that he would humbly pay for things, when you couldn't, and all those moments that didn't involve money and instead, just his love. "Now shush and let me love on you a little."

He smiled and moved to lean in closer to you, but you stopped him with your hand.

"No, I want food." You said, pushing his face fully away so you could move yourself up and off the bed. You watched as he groaned in frustration, like a baby, and huffed as he flopped his back down on the bed.

"You're choosing food over me? Unbelievable." He tutted, moving his head away from you in pretend annoyance. He had been with you long enough to know it would always be food over him. No, seriously.

"Shut up you big baby," you laughed and picked up the menu, flicking through it to try and choose what you wanted, "you want anything, H?" 

"I want you, is what I want." He grunted again, making you chuckle under your breathe.

"Alright, go hungry then." You rolled your eyes at his childlike attitude, punching the numbers into the phone to order.

"I wouldn't go hungry if I were allowed you, now wouldn't I?" He smirked at his words and looked over to see you blushing red like a fresh Pink Lady's apple. He and you both knew how flustered you could become by just his words.

"I will cut off your bal- oh hello?" You were surprised as the person from reception suddenly picked up, stopping you from threatening Harry's private parts. "Yes, thank you I would just like to order some room service please? Um, can I have the loaded nachos please but can I swap the olives for extra bacon please? Thank you, yeah. And a portion of your fries? A bowl of strawberries and a jug of water please. Thank you so much, okay, yeah!"

"You ordering for the thousands, love?"

"No. I just know that you'll eat half of my stuff anyways."

Harry was notorious for claiming that he wasn't hungry, or he wasn't in the mood for food, and then would proceed to eat half of whatever everyone else was eating. You both had big appetites for food but even bigger appetites for each other.

Harry reached into his bag and pulled out his phone charger with the adapter already attached, before walking back over to the bed and plugging in his phone. 

"Can't eat too much, though." Harry told you as he pulled his t-shirt over his head, exposing his gorgeously tanned bare chest littered with pretty pictures created from black ink. 

"And why's that?" You asked, curious to see where this was going.

"Gotta save myself for you later." He was so quick in reply, shimmying off his trousers and socks and throwing them on the bed to take care of later. He grabbed a towel off the bed and it was now clear that he was getting ready to go have a shower. He walked to his phone to check his notifications as you stood there flustered red. 

Whilst he was preoccupied, you took your t-shirt off too and wriggled out of your leggings that you'd worn for comfort on the plane. You picked up a towel, walking straight past Harry and into the bathroom.

"Um, what do you think you're doing?" He asked, putting his phone back down on the bedside table and watching you walk further into the bathroom. 

"What do you think i'm doing? Room service could be up to an hour, the lady said, so i'm joining you for a shower. Problem?" You asked, frustrated beyond reason now. He looked too fine standing there, with his boxers exposing his v-lines and hairs running down his tummy. He was so hot without even trying and it made your heart pound loud against your chest you were worried next door could hear it.

Harry shut and locked the door behind him, dropping his towel, and then his boxers, onto the sink beside him. He walked over to you, watching how you were stuck to the spot.

You were waiting for him to initiate something - anything. He pushed some hair behind your ear and kissed it softly afterwards. Your head was so close to his chest that it would've been wrong not to place a kiss against it. He hummed in appreciation, before moving his hands up your arms to help remove your bra straps from your shoulders. As he was delicately removing your more intimate clothing he whispered close;

"No. No problem at all." Harry smirked, knowing he had won this game. 

[miracleoftheeast]

A NIGHT OUT

2007!Leo x Reader

Word Count: 852

—————————

Nights on patrol offered little excitement; not that Leonardo was one to chase after it.

Within the confines of a city so alive he could almost hear its labored breathing echo through the streets, Leonardo somehow found himself restricted to a routine of simple, stagnant motions.

Wake up—then train. Hang out with his brothers—train. Go on a mission—train. Talk to Master Splinter over tea—train one last time before bed. The days drifted past him like autumn leaves on a windy afternoon.

He had felt too drained for the life he was living for quite some time now, as if the heart beating inside his chest had ripened past its prime. The feeling that had coated his senses was a cloying melancholy, the nectar of rotten fruit.

And there was something else, too.

Guilt was a wild beast that ravaged within him—its bite forever a fresh wound the color of green and blue. Leonardo had to be so many things: all at once and then each one on its own.

He was the eldest son, the leader, the mediator.

He had to be serious when Mikey refused to be. Sensible when Donnie got caught up in his daydreams. Calm when Raphael let his emotions get the best of him. And, most importantly, forgiving of his brothers when Master Splinter failed to empathize with the whirlwinds of youth. All these things were so typically him; they made up the leader in blue, like glass pieces in a mosaic.

They also left little cuts all over.

But what else could he do, really?

The only alternative was the jungle; the memory of a small village tucked away in the rich forests of the Amazon, where he could be granted the lifestyle of a legend, a myth, called out to him in a siren-like song.

The thought of going back was exciting. Colorful. And yet suddenly unattractive after all these years.

He never realized just how young fifteen was until saying the number out loud was akin to recounting a memory. The joy of being a ninja was, in fact, mere marvel at a way of being still novel to him.

Not so much anymore.

——

Leonardo and his brothers had fallen into a rhythm of independence since their early twenties, each turtle assigned a specific part of New York to safeguard daily.

He was conducting a routine survey of his section of the city that night—nothing special. He slipped from roof to roof systematically, having perfected his groove over the years. Until suddenly, he halted.

The grasp of the late November wind, the crisp air ten stories up, and the ambiance of city life buried somewhere down below would normally wrap themselves around him to usher Leonardo into mindlessly doing his job; yet, there he was, distracted—distracted enough to trip.

It was brief, the fall—the kind of moment one rewinds time and time again in their head to figure out if it ever really happened. Mere minutes later, Leonardo found himself swearing as he walked the empty streets of New York with a limp.

He remembered something that had been lounging at the back of his mind for years; it was a mere drop of warmth, a glimmer of light that flickered amidst the dark, biting frost of self-restraint.

He recalled that your apartment was not too far from here.

It had been a couple of years, and you two were barely acquaintances to begin with, yet it seemed like the only place he could go right now. The only place he could think of.

—-

“Blue?”

You asked in disbelief.

You were not one to be surprised by the sight of a mutant turtle. In fact, that was probably the least exciting thing you would have witnessed all week. You were, after all, an investigative journalist entangled in the supernatural affairs of this part of the city.

But it was seeing this mutant turtle in particular that had you at a loss for words.

Your last meeting was just as brief as all your other rendezvous; you gave him a piece of paper with the address of a storage space used by a local gang for contraband.

All he gave in return was a raspy thank you.

You figured you would see him again, priding yourself on being an asset to the city’s faceless vigilantes; hope—a poisonous thorn that could so easily pierce your skin if only you dared to reach out, if you dared to get close enough.

But with time, all your expectations faded, as did the image of him, until all you could recall of the affair was a particular shade of blue.

It was on your balcony that you last saw him; it was from there that the ninja was now looking at you with an ominous glint in his eyes.

Leo gave you a silent nod as his eyes darted to the handle of the glass door that separated the two of you. The look he gave you was expectant, impatient—it infected you with a dangerous kind of anticipation.

You chose to oblige and unlock the door, curiosity once again your master and you its slave.

That always seemed to be the case with him around.

——-

Author’s note: just something very short i wrote for fun!! Hopefully i will have it in me to write a part two i am really enjoying writing for 2007!leo