#someone even set off firecrackers

[casualavocados]

caught some (upside-down) reflections of the ring of fire eclipse in my camera, including a moment of totality!

[scoops-aboy86]

I just saw a post about a sugar daddy/sugar baby relationship but with the ages switched, so the one with money is in his twenties and the financially struggling one is in his forties. And I thought, wouldn't that be GREAT as a Steddie fic. 

Like, heir to the Harrington fortune Steve is just itching to dump his parents’ money down the drain on something. Or someone, because. You know. His parents tried to buy his love without ever being around to deserve it and that worked out Great, might as well continue the Harrington tradition (he thinks, while rolling his eyes). 

Enter Eddie Munson, walking disaster. Who sells weed for a living but spends most of his time planning and running dnd campaigns for underprivileged kids. Who is still trying to make it with his band, but meanwhile he’s the only member who can’t get a decent steady job because of bullshit murder charges when he was 19. (Which didn’t even stick, but it’s a small town… or maybe his dad just pissed off that many people.)

Eddie has the muscle tone of a slim jim and the hair of a tormented barbie doll, but the one physical feature he’s incredibly proud of are his tattoos. They’re all obviously home done, but when Steve realizes they’re all Eddie’s own work he’s (a) grudgingly impressed and (b) now has TWO great ideas for pissing off his parents. 

So Steve gets a tramp stamp in an apartment that he pays for but has Eddie’s name on the lease, and a grungy older boyfriend to parade around whenever he feels his parents need keeping in check. And maybe Eddie kind of makes it his unofficial job/personal undertaking to look into Harrington family dealings (he has his sources; his dad also schmoozed a lot of people and everyone knows his uncle is a stand-up guy) and alert Steve to things they’re being assholes about that Steve, more through fault of his upbringing than his own, wouldn’t have noticed. 

Like, maybe they own some medical buildings and are thinking of raising the rent on a pediatrician practice that offers sliding scale to low income families. At first, Steve is a little dismissive…

Steve: What’s the big deal? There are other pediatricians in town.

Eddie: Yes, but not everyone can afford to take their kids to them. 

Steve: Oh come on. 

Eddie: No, seriously. 

Steve: But… What if the kid gets really sick or hurt? 

Eddie: Sometimes they die, Steve.

Steve: ………………………. Okay yeah no that’s not happening. 

The next week, that practice has their rent lowered and a new lease locked in to keep the space (maybe even expand it into the plastic surgeon’s place next door) pretty much indefinitely and there’s an elite charity event that Steve and Eddie pointedly do not go to. 

(He can’t always get away with not going. Sometimes he plays the cards he’s dealt and goes with some pretty girl on his arm, but he has her home by midnight and he’s riding his boyfriend into the mattress by 1am.)

Eddie’s bandmates are dubious, but Eddie keeps swearing up and down that Steve isn’t a bad dude, he just has a lot of blind spots that he’s working on. Some harder than others, sure, but overall his cause seems to be just. Ish. A lot of what Steve does is motivated by petty revenge, but his parents are kind of shitty people so it tends to work out. “Plus,” Eddie adds brightly, “he’s a firecracker in the sack.” And is pelted with things for the crime of rubbing his sex life with a catch almost half his age in their faces. 

At some point they meet Steve, who has been specifically coached by Eddie to NOT buy out an entire restaurant or bar for the night just for the occasion. They come away with the general impression of, “He’s a little confused, but he’s got the spirit.���

Maybe they met in the first place because Dustin is one of the underprivileged kids Eddie was running campaigns for, and Steve has always had a soft spot for Dustin (and by extension all of Dustin’s friends and their families) since Mrs. Henderson was one of his nicer nannies growing up. Maybe Steve sets up a whole community center and tries to put Eddie in charge of it, but Eddie doesn’t really want to be anyone’s boss; he just wants to help kids excel at a game he loves because its one of the things that really helped keep him steady through his rough childhood and adolescence. But he does work there, because that way he can keep playing dnd AND teach guitar lessons. 

(Steve offered to help get the band signed to a label but Eddie was adamant, if they were going to make it they’d do it on merit, not money, or not at all. It’s really become more of a hobby for the other guys anyway.)

So Eddie is finally OKAY. He has a good income, a decent amount saved up from while Steve was covering all the bills he can now pay himself, and his Uncle Wayne hasn’t been more proud of him since the day he finally graduated high school on the third try (which was pretty good, for a Munson). 

And Steve… isn’t sure what to do with himself now that Eddie doesn’t need him anymore. He can’t think of anything he’s good for other than money—though his best friend Robin tells him that’s just because he’s a dingus, there are PLENTY of things. (They’ve been best friends since college, and there’s a story there but someone else is gonna have to fill in that blank because I’m getting sleepy.) Dustin chimes in that yeah, he can totally tell that Eddie has been sneaking Steve into campaigns as an npc (which he has to explain to Steve, again, even though they’ve been over this many times) for ages and is clearly so in love with him it’s ridiculous, has been for a while. 

Maybe Steve panics and does something dumb after that, but not so boneheaded that they can’t work it out dramatically in the rain after a brief period apart. Like in one of those romance movies that they both pretend they think are silly but genuinely get them choked up sometimes because they’re both kind of saps underneath it all. 

Eddie goes on to become a well respected tattoo artist, while still pitching in at the community center a few days a week. Steve continues his philanthropy work with the guidance of Eddie, Robin, his ex and investigative journalist Nancy, etc., and his own shaky-as-a-baby-giraffe-that-landed-on-its-head-straight-out-of-the-womb-but-getting-steadier instincts. They get married while skydiving (because Eddie joked about it and Steve held him to it), build the found family of Steve’s dreams, and live happily ever after. 

… Anyway, if someone could write all that out in actual prose I would love to read it. But with the sex dialed up to eleven because that’s important but I think I only actually mentioned it twice, a travesty.

[bradshawssugarbaby]

Urban Cowboy - Jake Seresin x Reader

pairing: Jake Seresin x f! reader

warnings/content: smut, unprotected p in v, mildly mean!dom Jake, teasing, jealous Jake

word count: 3.2k

The sounds of some 80s pop song echoed throughout the Hard Deck, a cheap colourful strobe light flashed around the room, its rainbow coloured beams striking random bargoers as they began to dance along to whatever was playing. It was new idea your aunt had come up with - doing theme nights at the bar once a month as a way to freshen things up and breathe new life into the military bar scene. 

Since you moved here four months ago, you’d gotten familiar with the regulars - there was Bradley Bradshaw, a man far older than he looked, with a penchant for comandeering the piano if the bar needed livening up, Natasha Trace, who had a fiery personality and often kept the other guys in their place, especially when the beers were flowing and they started flirting with unsuspecting patrons, Robert Floyd, the shy backseater who was always polite, tipped well and seemed to be the permanent designated driver on nights out, Reuben Fitch, who stood about a foot taller than you, and always had a witty comeback on hand, just in case, Mickey Garcia, who was sweet, but could talk anyone’s ear off about Star Trek, and Javy Machado, resident score keeper and pool table champion. 

Leading the group, was your Aunt Penny’s boyfriend, Pete “Maverick” Mitchell. He often would come in, finding a table at the back of the room for his squad before abandoning them to spend the evening at the bar, chatting your aunt up and offering up any excuse to come behind the bar and sneak a hand to her hip or steal a squeeze of her rear. It was sweet the way your aunt and Pete were loved up, like a couple of teenagers who couldn’t keep their hands off each other. 

This afternoon, Pete came in at four o’clock sharp, just as he promised to help set up. As he hung a couple of decorations you and your aunt had managed to find online, he turned to you and smiled, watching as you prepped the theme night’s cocktail menu.

“I forgot to tell you, another one of my guys is going to be here tonight. He’s been off training at a different base for the last few months, just landed in this morning. You’ll like him. He’s a firecracker.”

“Isn’t that your way of saying he’s a cocky asshole?”

“I wouldn’t say asshole. He’s just very…confident. I think you’ll like him though.”

“Are you talking about Jake?” Penny piped up as she looked at Pete, watching as he climbed up the step ladder to hang another decoration from the ceiling.

“Yeah, don’t you think they’d hit it off?”

“I think she might hit him.”

“What? No way. Jake’s not that bad.”

Penny scoffed and shook her head, laughing. Holding her hands up in surrender, she walked away, retreating back to the bar to begin making sure all the key ingredients to your drink menu were where they needed to be. You continued to stuff the evening’s special menus into their plastic protective sleeves, shaking your head at Pete’s attempts to try and set you up with someone from his squad. It wasn’t the first time, you’d been on a date with Bradley once before, but found the age gap was too great between the two of you, with Bradley in complete agreement that you were much better suited as friends than lovers, and on a date with Reuben, who, despite efforts between the two of you, there was no chemistry shared there. 

As five o’clock approached, you hurried into the back stockroom to change into your themed outfit for the night, pulling your hair out of the velcro rollers that Penny had helped you wrap your hair up into, creating the perfect 80s voluminous curl that would make even Christie Brinkley jealous. Your tight fitting Daisy Duke style shorts accentuated your curves, hugging your thighs and hips in all the right places, your crisp white button down shirt tied just under your bra, showing off your tanned, soft midsection. A pair of mid-sized silver hoop earrings hung from your earlobes to complete the look. Your aunt’s stash of Aqua-Net hairspray was all you needed to finish it off, stepping out the back door to shake your curls out and spray them with enough hairspray to ensure they wouldn’t budge for the night. 

You reentered the bar to find Pete’s friends piling in, the other regular patrons all trickling in and getting comfortable as they came through, turning the bar into a sea of cheesy fake mustaches and 80s style Hawaiian shirts, brightly coloured polos and coordinating Bermuda shorts, wigs and legwarmers. The evening was quickly livening up, and you got to work behind the bar with your aunt, pulling pints and mixing drinks, firing off orders left right and center as the bar filled with partygoers. 

An hour into the night, Bradley approached the bar, his aviator sunglasses perched atop his chocolate coloured curls, his loud, brightly coloured Hawaiian print shirt buttoned just enough to allow a few sparing curls of chest hair to peek out from the top. He leaned against the bar, smiling at you, his mustache neatly combed to closer resemble a style from the 80s. If you didn’t know any better, you’d swear he was trying to emulate Tom Selleck. You’d seen pictures of Bradley’s dad and Pete from back in the 80s, and recognized the shirt anywhere. It was clear Bradley was dressed identically to his father, and you had to admire the dedication he had to the theme. 

“What can I get you, Bradshaw?”

“Hi dollface, I’ll take a Budweiser. And a chance to take you for a spin later?”

“We’ve done this before, Bradley,” you laughed as you cracked the top off the beer bottle and slid it across the counter to him. Bradley shook his head as he sipped the frothy liquid, grinning as he set the bottle down on the counter.

“I didn’t mean you. I’m practicing. I can’t be dressed like this and not use some kind of weird 80s shit to impress a girl, right? I’m just…using you for practice. Did it work?”

“Bradley, why don’t you, I don’t know, just, be yourself?” 

“Because tonight I’m not myself. I’m some single 39 year old in the 80s trying to get a date, apparently.”

“Well then, gag me with a spoon, that was gnarly. Try a different line. One that doesn’t begin with “dollface”?”

“Got it, thanks!”

You watched as Bradley sauntered away to go try his luck with a pretty blonde over by the jukebox. You smirked to yourself as you heard Bradley start singing along to Madonna, carrying the tune with an impressive baritone that you weren’t expecting. You knew he could sing, but singing Madonna was a whole new side to him. Turning your back for a moment, you began fixing a drink for yourself, mixing together the ingredients for a Shirley Temple. You looked up to see a tall, broad-shouldered blonde man approach the bar counter, his hair slicked back, and a blonde mustache that made poor Bradley’s look unimpressive rested on his upper lip. The most stunning pair of bright green eyes looked at you, and a set of perfectly straight, whitened teeth fresh out of a Colgate commercial flashed a smile at you.

“Hi Darlin’, I’ll take whatever’s on tap.”

“Sure thing,” You nodded, trying hard not to audibly gulp at the adonis of a man standing in front of you. 

“Are you new ‘round here?” he drawled, “I’d remember a pretty face like yours.”

“Uh, within the last four months, yeah.” you nodded as you finished pulling a pint of draught for him, the frothy head of the beer perfectly resting in the glass. 

“Oh! That’ll explain it. Lieutenant Jake Seresin, at your service, m’am.” He winked, and you felt yourself melt a little at the sight of this human embodiment of a Ken doll flirting with you. 

“You’re Jake?”

“Depends who’s askin’, Honey.” His accent was thick and heavy, something straight out of those reruns of The Andy Griffiths Show that your mom made you watch when you were a child.

“I’m Penny’s niece,” you nodded, giving him your name and laughing softly as your cheeks blushed, “I moved down here to help her out with things around here while I try to figure some life things out.”

“I see,” he smirked, sipping his beer, the foam brushing against his mustache as he set the glass down. “And does that list of things you’re figuring out include finding a strong, charming, handsome Southern boy?”

“It might, do you know any?” You quipped, raising an eyebrow as you sipped your own drink, pretending to feign disinterest in the handsome stranger before you.

“As a matter of fact, I do.”

“That so, hun? Who? Do I know him?”

“Not yet, but I think he sure would like to know you, Darlin’.”

You shook your head, your curls bouncing as you started to laugh, unable to control yourself. Jake was as bold as he was handsome, and you were suddenly realizing what Pete was referring to when he said that Jake was confident. He practically exuded a cocksure confidence from every pore in his body. And while that would normally repulse you and send you heading for the hills, with Jake, it felt different. You couldn’t help but feel drawn to him, his magnetic charms and graces pulling you in, and your inhibitions wearing down. However, you also knew how to deal with men like this - he was in need of an ego check, and you were just the person for the job. 

“Is that right? Well, you tell your little Southern-fried wannabe cowboy of a friend that if he’s interested, he’s going to have to stick around the bar all night. I promised Aunt Penny I’d help her make sure this night went smoothly, and I don’t need a knockoff Dukes of Hazzard cast member distracting me.” 

“Wannabe cowboy?” Jake gasped in feigned offence, clutching his chest dramatically as he slipped into an even thicker accent than earlier, “Now Darlin’, I don’t know if you know this, but you’re breakin’ my heart over here. One thing I ain’t is a wannabe cowboy. You know, I used to ride in rodeos as a kid? Was one of the best there was for under 15 year olds, ‘til I decided to join the Navy instead.”

“Oh, so you’re like, a real cowboy then,” you teased, your voice dripping with sarcasm. 

“S’pose you could say that. Only one real way to find out, ain’t there?”

“Take you to a farm and watch you wrangle cattle on horseback?” you retorted sarcastically.

“You’re funny, I like that.”

“I bet you do.” 

Jake leaned in across the bar, a smirk forming on his lips as he looked at you, his bright green eyes fixated on your lips as you spoke. His long eyelashes fluttered at you as he eyed you up, practically undressing you with his imagination. You grinned as you gestured to the sign behind you, reading that if you disrespect a lady, you owe everyone a round. 

“Watch it, Lieutenant. If you’re not careful, I’ll go ring that bell and you’ll learn a very expensive lesson.”

“Oh, Darlin’, I can guarantee, I ain’t gonna learn anything from it. I’m just dumb enough to do it again. Can’t help myself around a pretty girl like yourself.”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes, shaking your head as you laughed at his relentless attempt. You knew the only reason he persisted was because you were teasing him, but at the same time, you didn’t mind the attention he was giving you. He wasn’t as tall as Bradley, or as broad shouldered, but he was built like a linebacker, with a solid frame and the accent alone was enough to drive you crazy.

It was almost 11 when Jake stopped you again, this time, outside of the stockroom when you’d disappeared back there for more maraschino cherries and pineapple juice. He leaned against the wall, his arms folded across his chest, causing his pastel-coloured polo shirt to bulge around his biceps. His lips curled up in that annoyingly perfect smile once again as he stood in your path.

“Hey, Honey, need a hand with that?”

“I’m fine, thanks,” you shrugged it off, shaking your head as you smirked at him, “You often follow girls into storage rooms?”

“Only the ones worth following.”

“Wow, Lieutenant, with a response like that, it’s a wonder you don’t have a trail of broken hearts following you around.”

“What is your issue, anyway? You got a thing against blondes? Pilots?”

“Please,” you smirked, shaking your head, “I went on a date with Rooster. He’s a pilot.”

“Is it ‘cause I’m from Texas?”

“No, it’s because you’re probably the most arrogant prick I’ve ever had the displeasure of coming across, actually. God, it’s like you think all you have to do is flash that stupid handsome smile and I’ll throw myself at you.”

Jake’s face fell slightly as he raised an eyebrow at you. You could tell he wasn’t used to having a girl put him in his place like this, but his crestfallen gaze was quickly replaced by that shit-eating grin he seemed to never go without sporting. 

“Honey, you’re real pretty when you get mean like that.”

“You’re impossible,” you sighed in exasperation.

“But you love it, don’t you?” 

Jake closed the gap between the two of you as he spoke, taking a couple steps closer to you. You bit your lip as you hesitated, thinking about the consequences that might follow if you acted on your desires. 

Fuck it. 

Your hands gripped the fabric of his polo shirt, pulling him down to your height as you crashed your lips into his passionately. You kissed a slow, hot trail up to his ear, a breathy moan escaping your lips as he put his hands on your hips to bring you in as close as possible, his body heat radiating on to you. 

“You gonna show me just how good you are, Cowboy?”

“Yes, m’am. I reckon I could show you a better time than any other man in here.”

Jake’s hand slipped down your curves, reaching around to cup your ass cheeks as he hoisted you up effortlessly, wrapping your legs around your waist. You quickly discarded the cherries and juice that were in your hands, wrapping your arms around his neck to steady yourself. Jake’s lips worked their way along your neck, wet, fervent kisses that made your body squirm with pleasure, your arousal growing and burning in your stomach with each second. 

“Back door?” He murmured against your neck, his hands keeping a firm hold of your ass.

“Two steps behind me, to the left,” you panted, nodding your head as he sucked on your skin. 

It was unseasonably warm for May, the humidity hanging in the air as you left the air conditioned building. Jake pushed you up against the wall, using it as leverage as he quickly reached down to undo your shorts and wiggled them out of the way. He ran two of his thick fingers along the outside of your lace underwear, stroking the dampened fabric as he smirked to himself.

“Someone’s eager, aren’t ya, Darlin’?”

“Just shut up and fuck me, ok?”

“Now, that any way to ask for it?”

A wicked grin appeared on his face as he slipped his fingers beneath the fabric, stroking at your clit with a feather light touch, just enough to make you whine for more. 

“Jake, I swear to fuck, if you don’t take me right now.”

“Shhh, Sugar, don’t want anyone to hear, do ya? Unless you get off on getting caught,” He purred as he coaxed his fingertips inside of your dripping entrance, pumping them into you with precision.

You tossed your head backwards as Jake thrusted his fingers further into you, each movement harder and faster than before. The determined look in his eye alone was almost enough to send you over the edge. This man was hell-bent on making you orgasm, and he was on the right track to get you there within a matter of seconds.

“Fuck, s-so close, Jake,” you keened, your fingers gripping his thick blonde hair as he brought you to your climax.

“That’s it, Sugar. Look at you, you’re a mess and I ain’t even started on you yet.”

“J-Jake, please,” you whimpered, coming undone as he fucked his fingers into you at a breakneck pace.

“Speak up, sweetheart, can’t hear ya.”

Your head started to spin as he pulled his fingers out of you, causing you to whine at the loss of contact. Just as you opened your mouth to speak, he slammed his hips forwards, shoving his thick cock inside of you, causing you to cry out in ecstasy at the sudden fullness. Trying to be quiet, you secretly thanked your lucky stars that the sounds of Your Love by The Outfield blared throughout the club. Just as the chorus picked up, Jake rocked his hips forwards again, fucking himself into you with enough force to make you feel as though he might blow your back out right then and there.

“That’s it, Sugar, takin’ me so well,” Jake smirked, “What was that you said about bein’ a wannabe cowboy? Bet those other boys can’t fuck you like this, now can they?”

You were practically rendered speechless by Jake’s precise, rhythmic thrusts into your cunt, his masculine grunting and teasing proving enough to throw you back over the edge once again. Your legs began to shake and shudder while he bucked his hips up into you, his eyes full of lust and hunger as he brought you to your second orgasm of the night. Your walls clenched around him tightly, eliciting a low, pornographic moan out of Jake. 

Raking your fingers through his hair, tugging on it as you threw your head back, you screamed out his name, louder than you intended. You lost your ability to hold yourself together as Jake’s thrusts became sloppier, his own orgasm following close behind yours. 

“Fuck, am I good?” He groaned, his eyes pleading for permission.

“On the pill, you’re good,” you panted, nodding quickly as Jake let himself go inside of you, your name falling from his lips like a sacred prayer as he repeated it over and over, praising you.

“Now, how ‘bout letting a strong, handsome Southern boy take you out on a date so he don’t feel so bad about fucking you until you can’t walk a couple hours after meetin’ ya?” He grinned as he readjusted himself and pulled his clothes back up. 

“I think I can fit you into my schedule, on one condition.”

“Mhmm? What’s that?”

“Next time, you come wearing a cowboy hat.”

“Deal, Sugar, I’ll even let you wear it.” 

[amourdyke]

𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐁𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 ✷ 𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐄 𝐋𝐀 𝐑𝐔𝐄

pjo fanfiction 𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞 𝐥𝐚 𝐫𝐮𝐞 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 ✷ your father wouldn’t approve of how my mother raised me but i do i think i do, and you’re an all-american girl i guess i couldn’t help trying to be your best american girl ✷ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ooc clarisse, aphrodite’s daughter reader, fake dating, angst and pining

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄

The words escaped her mouth before she could fully comprehend what was happening. Big bad Clarisse La Rue with a temper to mimic boiling water and the fight skills to ward off teasing has finally been a victim to it irredeemably as lies slipped past her lips spontaneously, unthinking.

“You had a girlfriend this whole time and none of us knew? Yeah, right, Clarisse, you’re full of shit”

“She used to date a Hephaestus chick, alright? Didn’t want anyone pointing out the whole history repeating itself trope of Aphrodite and Ares” A part of her is proud of her trope, a child of Apollo worthy storyline invented last minute, it seemed to not occur to her the way specifics would bite her in the ass until her sibling’s eyes sparkled mischievously, pointing towards the other end of the bonfire at a female figure she had not seen before, though apparently the only one who seemed to match characteristics.

“You mean to say you’re dating angel face over there?”

Your eyes caught hers for the first time in that moment, setting ablaze something at the pit of her stomach that had seemed to lay dormant far too long, hence the beginning of the relentless conversation she found herself in in the first place. “Yeah, that’s her, my girl” she concurs, taking a sip of her drink and staring off into your figure like a predator.

You first met Tori before you were claimed. She would sneak into the Hermes cabin to give you midnight kisses and hide freshly made jewellery she forged instead of armour under your pillow for surprises, adorning your neck in both purple bruises and metal chains, her own special claim on you. Until your mother showed face. It burned you to remember how she spoke, as though not knowing you, like Aphrodite you must be your mother’s daughter. A cheater, she meant. You still dreamed that your only claim was Tori’s kisses and necklaces on days like these where you watched her by the bonfire avoid your every glimpse.

And then someone’s grip is on your arm.

“I wonder what could the most infamous child of Ares possibly want with me” She raises her eyebrows at the nickname from you, someone she had not acknowledged nor recognized before today though the opposite could clearly not be said, the beginning of a smirk ghosting over her features.

“Is that what I am?”

“Don’t play dumb, Clarisse, it’s not your best look, you know exactly what you are, it’s your charm, that is if you’re into the whole bully chic thing”

“I need a favour from you” She wastes no time and you scoff in response, your eyes still seeking out Tori, anxiously hoping she does not see any of this interaction as to not play out scenarios in her head. Clarisse takes none of it. She grabs you by the chin, in a firm yet surprisingly careful hold and forces you to face her, wide brown eyes with a beauty you hadn’t quite recollected before seeing its warm specks up close like firecrackers trapped behind her irises. You shake off the thought and cross your arms.

“Why would I do you any favours? I bet you don’t even know my name, hell, I bet you don’t even know who I am in general–”

“You’re my girlfriend”

“I beg your pardon?” You nearly choke and Clarisse laughs.

“I’ve been watching you. You’ve been staring at that raven haired Hephaestus girl for the last forty minutes uninterrupted while I can quite easily point out at least six girls who have been drooling to get your attention in the last sixty and you haven’t even spared them a pity glance, so I’m going to guess that’s your ex?”

“What does that have to do with anything besides the fact you’re apparently a fucking stalker?”

“Feisty, angel face” She snarks “I need a girlfriend to get some people off my back for awhile and you apparently want your ex back, so why don’t you use that tiny love focused brain of yours and think for two seconds what makes someone temporarily lose their senses and say, get back together with their ex?”

“You want me to use you to make Tori jealous?”

“Do you really have anything to lose?”

You watch her train, that’s your first date, and it starts off as uninteresting as you guessed it would be. Until she’s flexing a little too much, and you’re catching on, of course, but it’s working, because you’re suddenly focused, mouth agape as she lifts up her shirt exposing her perfectly sculpted abdomen to clean sweat off her forehead with the orange cloth.

“Having fun gawking?” She teases.

“Isn’t that what you brought me here for?”

Clarisse twists her spear around in the air and finally settles it behind her flexed arms, moving towards you as she looks around the training grounds for something, eyes sparkling at the sight of a similar weapon to hers “You know how to fight, angel face?”

“I’m a demigod, Clarisse” She feigns fright at your words before rolling her eyes and moves to throw the spare spear towards you, which you take in hands overwhelmed. She steps back and motions you forward which for whatever reason you comply, before you know it her breath is hot on your neck, a whisper: “Your little ex is watching”

She wasn’t entirely truthful. Tori was there, but she barely spared you a glance. Clarisse’s siblings however watched her every move, and she was preparing a spectacle. Positioning herself behind you, hands on your waist as to fix your stance, she dismissed the way her fingers seemed to physically burn at the sensation of your skin desperately seeking out to touch you more and focused on pointing your aim at the dummy before you. It strikes him right in the heart first try and falls backwards on itself. You’re beaming. Clarisse’s chest squeezes. She forgets to let go of your love handles until you turn around.

“You look pretty when you’re deadly” She casually lets out, a sigh.

“Did Tori see your hands on me?” You look around, an attempt at casually catching your exes eye. You miss the way Clarisse frowns when she agrees nonchalantly. One of her siblings winks, she thinks to herself this was too much trouble.

“Okay I think that’s enough performing for a day”

“You’ll hurt me this way, princess. Can’t stand me that much? I don’t get it, did I dunk one of your friends on the toilet or something?”

“I don’t understand”

“Playing dumb isn’t your look either” Clarisse mimics your first encounter as she stares daggers at you. She looks like she could see right through your soul and it sends shivers down your spine.

“You really don’t remember me, huh?” You scoff, and Clarisse is furrowing her brows and attempting to dive into her memory but you’re quicker to refresh it “My first year here I was like a lost and kicked puppy. And you were the girl who killed the monster who nearly killed me and actually killed my satyr protector. I guess it was just another day for you but it was my worst nightmare and you were a fucking knight in shining armor, I thought so anyways. I followed you around for months, and what does it say that you didn’t even know my name until two days ago? You are probably the one most self centered person I have ever met and I was a stupid little girl with a crush who thought you could save me while you actively terrorised everyone who was nice to you. Including me. And you don’t even remember taunting me, because it was just another fucking wednesday. So maybe I’m not enthusiastic about playing your girlfriend for longer than I have to”

It suddenly dawns on her, the memory of you. You looked different now, she guessed those were some perks of growing up as an Aphrodite kid but staring at your face, hurt expression, made the resemblance uncanny. To the one person she regretted hurting. She had just lost a fight and you had ran after her for comfort, but Ares had seen it. So there was nothing you could say. She wanted someone to hurt like she was hurting as though it would take her own pain away. She lost the fucking fight because she looked for you in the audience as she was winning. Affection made her weak. She made you pay for it.

“You called me a stupid girl who doesn’t know when to leave people alone and that’s why no one could stand me. Ring a bell?” You turned around to leave when Clarisse was silent. She surprised herself when she spoke up.

“Well let me teach you to hate me less!” She called out, running her hand through her curls frantically “We can’t do this if you don’t stand the sight of me, my siblings won’t buy it, your ex girlfriend who knows you certainly won’t either. Let’s go out and talk and maybe you’ll like something about me, I don’t know”

“Why does it matter so much to you that you have a girlfriend? Why do your siblings care? Answer me this and I might go with you”

“Fucking Gods, you’re insufferable” She mutters “Because I’m tired of being the one with no life, okay? All I have is training, and everyone knows that and I hate when they start worrying so I need anything to ward it off and I guess relationship maybe screams reason to live and not dying to be a war martyr so this is what I got, okay? It’s stupid, but it’s what I got”

“Alright”

“Alright?”

“I’ll try to like you, Clarisse”

She leads you to the forest in the middle of the night as to not alert anyone. The moon is full and it lights up her face in a way that softens her usually rough features. It is strange how your hands meet eachothers halfway in a hold until you reach your destination, a lake surrounded by flowers. You’re taking off your clothes, stripping into underwear before Clarisse could even fully process it, her eyes widening at the sight of your unbuttoning jeans reaching your calves, then the floor.

“Aren’t you coming?” You say as you stumble into the water. She watches you, the same way she had at the bonfire, and feels guilt pool at her throat for the way she gazed at your body. Clarisse wants to put a word to her feeling and all that comes to mind is hungry. She feels hungry. Like she could bite into your skin and tarnish its softness, like she needs to.

She takes off her clothes as well, skin still hot despite the cold air embracing her suddenly. You watch her too, she notices. Though she can’t pinpoint the look in your eye as she walks into the lake and heads towards you, stopping until your chests barely touch. There’s unusual heavy breathing from the both of you, hypnotised. You’re sure you won’t speak of it tomorrow.

“What’s your favourite colour?”

“Are you serious?”

“I’m trying to find things to like about you, work with me here”

“I like red. Like blood”

“Like love” Clarisse doesn’t bother to reply to your argument, but it makes a part of her shake. War and romance unfortunately have too many things in common, she notes to herself.

“My turn. Why do you want your ex back?”

“Because she was good to me. She was kind and soft and she liked me. I miss feeling like someone cares like that”

“Aren’t you Aphrodite’s daughter? Doesn’t that sound a little like the bare minimum? She’s good to you? She’s kind? Didn’t she stop being those things when it ended?”

“You don’t know anything about relationships, Clarisse, you’ve never had one. I’m difficult, I’m a cheater’s kid, I’m–”

“You’re beautiful. Breathtaking, like your mom. Maybe that’s the only thing you got from her. You can aim. You’re strong. You’re apparently vengeful at least towards me which in my books is an attractive quality, you’re witty and you get little crinkles around your eyes when you laugh. I’m going to guess you didn’t cheat on that ex of yours so you’re not an asshole, for sure not a cheater. You give people chances when they don’t deserve it. I’m not quite following what could be so damn difficult about you”

You stay silent for awhile. Thinking. She hates herself for not knowing what it is that you think, and regrets saying so many things in your quietness. Then you whisper something she doesn’t catch and she asks you to say it again and in clear noise it sounds as shocking as it did when she first thought to have tricked her ears: “You never had a relationship, have you ever been kissed?”

Clarisse shakes her head no.

“Can I kiss you?” You correct yourself as you lean in, placing a curl behind her ear “Just in case we need to do this in front of your siblings or Tori, so we’re ready”

“Right” Clarisse mumbles as her hands snake her way around your waist pulling your body closer to fully press against hers “Just in case” she finishes whispering before her lips finds yours. There’s more desire than you both thought there would be. It’s desperate. Messy. Tongues clashing and chests heaving. She wants to taste you forever. She thinks she’s screwed.

[cainsau]

Just Between Us || The Boys Imagine

(Platonic) Hughie Campbell x GN!Reader (Platonic) Kimiko Miyashiro x GN!Reader

Summary: Set in S4E4. Hughie and Kimiko arrives at the office thinking it would be empty. But there you are, wondering where they've been and whose blood are on their clothes.

Warning: Spoilers for S4E4, ankle injury

Ever since you became a part of The Boys, you find yourself watching news on the TV more often. The people they put on the screen are not reliable most of the time. The information they share differ from what truly happened, but that's what makes it entertaining, the fact that you know they're blatantly lying through their teeth.

The TV lights up the office with its flashing, but dim colors. You don't even bother turning on the lamps, because you don't plan to stay there long.

As the presenter moves on to talk about a recent incident with Firecracker and Starlight, the door to the office opens.

Kimiko and Hughie enters, their arms supporting each other up. Kimiko's shirt is ripped off, and Hughie has a makeshift cast on his ankle. Both of them have blood on their faces and clothes, looking like they just got hit by a car or something.

You immediately get up from your seat, hurrying to help them. "What the hell happened to you two?"

As you help Hughie to a chair, Kimiko sits down and takes out her phone to type. 'We met A-Train, then got attacked by Shining Light.'

"A-Train? Are you serious? What were you guys doing with him?"

Kimiko glances frustratingly at Hughie, who is sitting on the chair next to her. He's oddly quiet. Then, she types on her phone again, 'He made a deal with him.'

"What deal?" You ask him, but he looks away.

Instead, Kimiko types, 'Getting a compound v.'

"I just-" He finally speaks, "It's the only way i can save my dad, okay?"

You let out a sigh, unable to argue. If you could save someone you love by turning them into a supe, you totally would too. At this moment though, you can't really say that out loud, so you decide to just get a medkit and patch them up.

'Treat him first. He can't heal like i do.'

"Alright." So you grab a chair and place it near him. Sitting down, you open the medkit, then gesture to him, "Give me your injured foot."

He puts his foot up, resting it on your lap, while Kimiko cleans herself beside you.

"Did you do this?" You ask Kimiko about the splint. She nods with a small smile. You return the smile, "Nice."

Carefully, you start cutting the tape of his DIY splint, then takes off his shoe and sock, revealing his bruised ankle. It's blue and a bit swollen. You take out the elastic bandage from the medkit and ask him, "Do you know how to properly wrap a bandage around your ankle?"

"No, uh, i don't..."

"Alright." You assure him, "I'll teach you right here so you can do it yourself later. Pay attention, yeah?"

He nods, and watches as you start with the bridge of his foot, around the bottom, then to his achilles tendon, and back to the bridge, which then you repeat until the roll is out. Lastly, you put the two clips on, and ensure they don't fall off.

"It feels so much better now, thanks a lot." He says, "How did you learn to do that though?"

You shrug, "I've sprained my foot before. Couldn't walk properly for a few weeks."

"You're telling me, i won't be able to walk for a few weeks?"

"Not really. You could walk a bit, earlier, right? So i'm guessing your injury is not as bad as mine. Just don't put your weight on it, and also, it would be better if you position it above your heart to let the blood flow."

He let out a breath, "Alright." Then moves the foot to a desk.

Kimiko pokes your shoulder to get your attention, then turns around, pointing to a spot on her back that has blood on it.

"You want me to help clean it?" You ask, to which she nods. "Of course."

The injury on that spot has already healed, but not completely. From the shape, you guess it was a gunshot. You shake your head. Sure, she's a supe who can regenerate, but it must've been painful to experience all that.

"You said you were attacked by Shining Light people," you say as you use a wet cotton on her injury, "What were they doing over there? I thought you were just making a deal with A-Train?"

She picks up her phone, and types, 'I killed a bunch of them, and they came for me.'

"Wait, you killed them? When?"

'A while ago.'

"You mean, that time when you left with Frenchie?"

She nods.

"I see."

You finish cleaning her injury, then tidy up the medical tools as Hughie also finished patching up a cut on his thigh by himself.

He then speaks up, "I'd really appreciate it if you don't tell the others about today."

"To be honest, they'll probably know sooner or later." You reply, which causes Hughie to look down in guilt. Then, you continue with a reassuring smile, "But yeah, don't worry, i'll keep this whole thing just between us."

[johnwickb1tsch]

Sympathy for the Devil ~ Part 6

A Donaka Mark x housekeeper!Reader fic, based on @discoscoob 's concept & bot! Warnings: Donaka Mark is a bad man with a soft spot for you. dark romance, possessive behavior, nonconsensual voyeurism, red flag red flag girl!🔺, psychological games, power imbalance, eventual dubcon/nsfw.

one. two. three. four. five.

Six. 六

Your dark mood lasts for days. You do not shirk your duties, but you definitely brood, hating everything, most of all yourself. A part of you hopes that Donaka decides you’re not worth the trouble after a glimpse of this other side of you. He does not prod you further, seemingly steering clear of you. He had his fun taking you down a peg–what more could he want with you? Surely he has better things to do… The more time goes on, the more certain you are that his proposition was mostly in your head.

Amusingly, it’s little Mrs. Wong who gets you out of your funk, yelling at you in Cantonese and smacking you with a wooden spoon when (maybe?) you didn’t move out of her way fast enough in the kitchen. You are determined that someday she’s going to let you call her Auntie, but apparently you still have some distance to cover. Her temper is like a firecracker, loud but shortlived. She’s adorable and terrifying, and it’s all so ridiculous that you cannot stop laughing as you flee, and the shroud of your depression lifts again like the sun penetrating through the clouds.

The absurdity of life has always saved you in times like this. What do you have to be sad about, anyway? You are healthy, you are housed, and you are fed in this beautiful place. You are having an adventure. So what, if your diabolically handsome employer does not approve of you? You’re just here to clean his floors, for fuck’s sake. 

Maybe Donaka Mark is rich, but that doesn’t mean he has all the answers to the mysteries of life. You find your mental state improves, when it seems like he’s ignoring you. 

Flirting with the cute gardener’s assistant doesn’t hurt your state of mind either. His name is Jun, he has an infectious laugh, and he offers to show you around the city on your next day off. Thinking some down time with someone your age will do you good, you are set to meet him at the bus stop down the hill from Mr. Mark’s house. 

However, he never shows. You try not to take it too hard, but it still bums you out. 

He does not return with the gardener the next week either, and then you start to worry. The kind old man who tends Donaka Mark’s plants just shrugged at your inquiry and said, “He quit.” 

It seems odd, but you brush it off. You suppose you’ll just have to explore the city on your own. You ask for the day off for your birthday, wanting to go do the touristy things, like ride the historic ferry and take the tram up to Victoria Peak. Maybe visit a temple, do some shopping at the Night Market, and definitely indulge in some local eats. Something about living in Hong Kong has you dreaming about noodles. It’s an affliction. You want to try them all. 

On your day there is a little carved wooden box on the table where you usually partake your breakfast in the common area of the servants’ quarters. You’re not sure why your heart falls to your feet with something like dread, but somehow you just know that Mr. Mark has not forgotten about you after all. 

With a forbidden thrill you flip the lid carefully, finding a domed-link silver filigree and enamel bracelet set with dreamy jade cabochons. The little details are exquisite, and you’re instantly enchanted. When you look carefully at the bauble, you realize the stylized blue designs aren’t flowers–they’re bats.

He remembered that conversation you’d had, that very first day. It warms you to your toes, and maybe scares you too. He's good to the staff, but you don't think he usually buys them jewelry.

Goddammit.

You just know, deep down, that you shouldn’t accept it. You even set it back down in the box again, just looking at it with hands on your hips. 

But therein lies the crux of temptation: you want it. It’s pretty and well made, not cheap tourist junk, and…he’d put thought into this gift for you. 

This bait for you, you remind yourself. It’s still hard for you to believe that he’s propositioning you, if for anything, because a man like him could have a supermodel on each arm if he wanted. What the fuck would he want with a girl like you?

Maybe…it’s just an apology?

Not likely, but surely he’s not going to expect you to sleep with him for a silver bracelet??

You have a problem, and possibly, a screw loose. You know this is a flame you should not play with. You are toeing the line, dangerously close to falling in.

What if…you just wear it today, then give it back? It’s not like he’ll know. You doubt you’ll even see him today.

It feels like a guilty secret, as you pick it up again, clasp it on your wrist, and set out for your big day. You like the weight of the heavy silver on your skin–worse yet, you like knowing that Mr. Mark selected this bauble just for you. It feels…like a badge of honor, and you know it’s stupid, to feel proud of yourself for catching the attention of a man like him–but you can’t help it.

You are smart, but sometimes? Your heart is really really stupid.

You do not return to the house until well past after dusk, nearly midnight. You made a day of it, actually able to enjoy the city since Mr. Mark pays so well. You will remember the hand pulled noodles with beef you had for dinner in the Night Market for the rest of your life, they were so delicious. Watching the chef stretch them out from a lump of dough was like a religious experience. 

Having your fortune told in the Night Market was memorable too, but maybe a little unsettling. Squatted on a stool in the older woman’s stall, you paid 100HK dollars for her to look at your right hand and frown. She told you that money would never be a problem for you, but the men in your life would always cause you difficulty. Looking at your relationship with your father and every man after that, you reckon she was probably right. You know you should take it with a grain of salt, but you can’t quite shake the hum of unease in the back of your mind.

On tired feet you walk through the garden, around to the entrance to the servant’s quarters. 

"Did you have a nice day?" asks a voice from the shadows. You start, then realize Mr. Mark is sitting on the carved stone bench, on the path to the servants' wing of the house, tucked back in the manicured trees. 

Fuck.

Immediately you tuck your wrist behind your back.

“Mr. Mark?”

“Come here.”

His voice is deliberately neutral–you can’t quite gauge his mood as you approach, feeling like a teenager caught staying out past her curfew. You have no way of knowing he has been waiting for hours, growing more and more annoyed that you are away from him, not under his watchful gaze, where you belong.

He knows where you were, if not exactly what you did. Unbeknownst to you, there is a tiny tracker inserted in your new bracelet you wear with such foolish avarice. 

“Well?”

“Yes, I had a wonderful day,” you confirm, coming to stand before him, committed now even if you are walking into the lion’s den. You find it odd he’s waiting up for you, but it is a beautiful night to be out in the garden. A cool breeze is coming off the water, lifting your hair.

“Let’s see it then.” He points at your hand so casually held behind you, and you know you are caught out.

Almost guiltily, you extend your arm to show off your new acquisition in situ. 

He props your hand with just the tips of his fingers, his touch maddeningly light on your sensitive palm as he turns your wrist to inspect the bracelet, sending a thrill down your arm. He likes seeing the gift that he selected upon you.

“It suits you,” he finally assesses, though you still can’t tell if he’s displeased. “Do you like it?”

“Yes,” you answer, barely above a whisper, feeling as though you are sealing something between you as you admit it. 

“Well, that’s convincing.”

Your heart feels like a sea urchin lodging in your throat. You’re not sure what it is about this man that makes you want to please him–and tell him to fuck off–all in the same breath. 

Then he gets to the fun part–for him. “You shouldn’t have stayed out so late alone,” he scolds you. 

You cant your head and press your lips, holding in the smart remark that burns on your tongue as his coal-black eyes bore into you, settling for, "I didn't mean to worry you…but it is my day off. I think I'm free to do what I want." You just can't stop yourself from adding the last bit, and you wonder from his darkening expression if it will be your undoing.

He imagines in that moment what it would be like to reach out and put you over his knee. Instead, he stands abruptly, startling you into taking a step backwards. 

He likes that. 

It irks him, that you dare defy him, like he doesn’t know what’s best for you. If you insist on acting so tough, he’s tempted to throw you over his shoulder and show you just how little it would take to actually break you. 

"Were you drinking?" he asks darkly, hating the thought of you out in a bar, with other men, enjoying yourself. Laughing, like you were with the young gardener not so long ago. The moment he saw that on his camera feed that he constantly watches of you, Donaka saw red. You should not give your joy to others so freely. You sprinkle it around everywhere you go, and he covets it all for himself.

That boy had to go.

"No," you defend, and you’re telling the truth. "I just...walked around." There was plenty to see in Kowloon district. 

Donaka takes another step closer, his body almost pressing against yours, the heat of it warming you. He watches your reaction as he speaks, his voice low and firm. “You should have let me arrange a driver for you.”

This again. It feels as though he wants to cloister you away from experiencing the world, by shoving you in a car. "Donaka..." you sigh, slipping into using his first name for the first time ever, because you’re tired, and your feet hurt, and he is standing very close, talking to you like he has a say in what you do…

It’s maddening and arousing all at once, rubbing with a velvet touch against some long long cavewoman instinct in your brain, and if you’re not careful this just might be the night he outmaneuvers you. 

Donaka’s eyes narrow at hearing you dare to be so familiar with him, even if deep down he secretly loves it. He takes another step into you, crowding you against the stone wall, caging you in with an arm. He’s blocking your path to a quick exit into the servants’ quarters, you can’t help but notice. Your heart pounds in your ears–but you’re not half as afraid as you should be of this man. 

“Hong Kong is pretty safe, as it goes…” you continue to protest around the sound of your heart drumming in your ears, earning a scoff. 

“You have no idea, the sorts of things that could happen to a girl like you in this city.”

You can’t help but think you’re not sure if you feel safe here at home now. 

“If something happened…I would have called you,” you offer up, appealing to his ego as protector, the role he’s apparently decided to take on for himself without asking you. 

However, he sees right through you, rolling those beautiful dark eyes. “You should have let me take you out,” he suggests in a low tone that curls your toes in your sandals. He says it like it had been some option on your menu that you’d rejected. Never in a million years would it have even occurred to you to ask. 

You find yourself doing your best impression of a fish out of water, like the ones you’d seen stacked like cord wood in the market. His other hand lifts to touch your chin lightly, closing your mouth. “Would you have liked that?” 

You honestly don't know the answer to that. 

This man fascinates you and repulses you. He's handsome and commanding and oh so forbidding. He scares you, but he draws you like a moth to a flame. Having these little flirtatious interactions around the house are one thing. Going out with him would be...something else entirely. The thought of what it could mean to socialize with a man like him, where you are so far from being equals, makes you uneasy. It's much safer to just...write about what might have been in your journal, later. 

"I'm not sure that would be appropriate," you finally answer breathily.

His smile for you is nothing less than the wolf baring its teeth. “Why not?”

"You're my boss..." you try to defend. You scare the shit out of me is the real answer you don't dare say aloud.

Donaka can’t help the dark laugh that falls from his lips at your answer, the way you flounder as you grasp for a defense, utterly drowning. A part of him wants to claim you right here and now, for being such a sweet, soft, naive little thing in his claws. 

He leans down closer to you, his head dipping down to your ear, his breath hot against your skin. “Is that the best excuse you’ve got?”

For a moment, you think your soul might evacuate from your body. 

"Pretty sure it's a good one," you barely manage to reply above a whisper.

“You still don’t understand what I’m offering you, do you?” he asks, his voice deceptively gentle, a dagger clothed in velvet.

You love it how he makes you out to be the obtuse one, when he is the one who has spoken so cryptically.

“I…might,” you answer. You’re not a complete innocent, or a total philistine.

What would a VIP experience on the arm of Donaka Mark be like? Although he can be charming when he wants to be, it makes you feel more anxious than intrigued. You imagine a dinner at some high-end restaurant you could never afford. Somewhere people go to be seen, more than to eat, though the food would undoubtedly be amazing. Somewhere you would feel incredibly out of place. Then what? A ride in one of his ugly but wicked fast sports cars? A night of hedonism at some exclusive club for millionaires only? And what would he expect as payment for all this? You can’t even say you wouldn’t be willing to give it. You want this man with a voracity that is–frankly–terrifying to you. 

You’ve never felt anything like it. 

What you wouldn’t like is the inevitable aftermath of later: he's offering you the opportunity to give yourself up–then get thrown away, with the enjoyment of some perks in between. You could repeat your mother’s history all over again, a thing you always swore up, down, and sideways you would never do.

Donaka watches all these thoughts play across your face, without a word aloud to accompany them. You just stare, unable to speak, and he narrows his eyes at you.

“Say one sentence of the novel you just wrote in your head out loud,” he challenges.

You open your mouth to try, but nothing comes out. All you can do is look up at him with what you are sure is a pathetic expression on your face, paralyzed. He is so close, and your eyes fixate for a long, damning moment on his mouth. In the end you have to close your eyes against that laser-like stare, shaking your head.

“You know something I find interesting about you,” he goes on. You open your eyes, though your tongue is still tied. “I think if I made you choose between an Hermès purse or that cheap bauble on your wrist this morning, you still would have chosen the bracelet, wouldn't you?”

“Yes,” you answer immediately, maybe not to your advantage. Then you feel a little relieved, glad it didn’t cost a fortune.

“Comparatively cheap,” he clarifies, as though he doesn't want you to feel too at ease. How did he know? 

You narrow your eyes, lifting your wrist towards him. “Maybe…you should take it back.”

You think you might die of a heart attack, when he folds your smaller hand in his, and kisses your knuckles lightly. “It’s too late for that.”

You’re not sure what that means, but as he strokes your thumb lightly with his, you start to tremble.

“Sir…” 

He pins you with his stare, looming over you, but makes no move, waiting. 

“It’s getting late���and I have to work tomorrow.”

He lifts an eyebrow, smirking down at you. “And whose fault is that?”

“Mine…though it’s starting to be yours.”

He snorts. “Then ask me for the day off again,” he dares you. When you answer him with yet more paralyzed silence he gets frustrated, tilting your face up with his huge hand engulfing your jaw. For a man who works in tech…his fingers are calloused, and strong, and your legs just might go out from underneath you.  “Ask me. Say it out loud, y/n. Tell me what’s going on, behind those big eyes.”

You, however, just shake your head against his masterful grip. “You don’t want to know.” 

“I like secrets, y/n. I want to know everything.” You suppose that is his bread and butter, with his security business and all his cameras…you don’t know why it never occurred to you before now, that it could be a personal obsession, as much as professional. 

You’re tempted. God, are you tempted, with this beast of a man looming over you, touching you, looking through you with those piercing dark eyes. Like he wants to eat you as much as he wants to fuck you… 

Somehow you know if you dare go down that path…there will be no turning back. 

You choose the coward’s road.

“Please…I think…it would be best…to call it a night.”

He weighs you with a heavy gaze for so long that you start to doubt he will let you go–in the darkest dungeon of your heart, you know that a part of you doesn’t want him to. It would be convenient, if he would make the choice for you. Let you taste the forbidden fruit with none of the blame…

You are losing your goddamned mind over this man. You need to stop.  

You never really know why in the end he releases you, pushing back from the wall to give you space. You side-step towards the door of the servant’s quarters, afraid for the predatory look he’s paying you, that he might change his mind.

 "Good night, Mr. Mark," you say quietly, before disappearing into the little building where you sleep. A rush of frustration flares inside him as you scamper away–again. He narrowly resists the urge to kick down your door and show you who you belong to.

“Good night,” he answers back through gritted teeth, only the crickets left to hear him. He’ll have your secrets, one way or another. He can genuinely say he tried–a first, in so long he can’t remember when. For what happens next…you will only have yourself to blame.

[theirishwolfhound]

I do love the idea of an unhinged reader. Not like brutally unhinged but... like the kind that is harmlessly annoying and is just a brat to Task Force 141.

Like the mother fuckers nickname is Menace and they're somehow still alive after everything so they make it everyone's problem.

They're great at what they do, amazing even— but no team wants menaces like Menace, not even the heavens nor the hells want the damn person.

This is the same Menace who wears a devilish half-mask, but only above their mouth so people can see their shit-eating grin (think similar to the ghoul mask above) as they leave small firecrackers under the lids of toilet seats, or so people notice the way their lips curl up in mock disgust when someone is talking.

Menace who only goes through with the SAS training to one up another soldier they despised, enough to have sicked a pack of squirrels on that they personally hand fed a few days after— they even bonded enough with the little fuckers that when they were finally transferred out to be someone else's problem, the squirrels would steal the remaining soldiers foods.

Laswell, whose grand idea of knocking the boys down a peg since she's tired of their shenanigans includes getting this Menace of a person to join 141 with faint threats of blackmail— to which Coporal Menace respects, leading Kate to being the only one who is not subjected to the dumpster fire that is about to happen, but is only encouraged by her wife.

Price, who in his right mind, nearly rejects the idea of this misfit joining because of their turnover rate but gives in when Laswell tells him it would be worth it— that her wife likes them and they're an excellent solider after all.

Immediately upon arrival, Menace lives up to their name— pissing on the side of the building as if to mark their new territory before deciding it would be a good idea to rile up the behemoth of a man by asking Price: "Didn't anyone tell the poor bastard that Halloween was four fuckin' months ago? Look at 'em he looks emo."

It wasn't until then that the poor Captain realized how much of an untamed brat his new corporal was— only to be further set in after the first two weeks on base.

Sure Menace got along with Soap, but they were far too alike for Menace's likings and Gaz, sweet sweet Gaz, gave them a few too man odd glances and playfully snide remarks for their liking— meanwhile Ghost had made them scrub the bathroom from top to bottom with a small sponge, and well they could already see the forming regret in Price's eyes.

So Menace did what they did best.

It started out simple: silently attaching balloons on strings to the back of their clothes without them noticing, flipping all of the furniture upside down during the middle of the night, purposefully mocking every single move of one of the operators for a full day, sugar in the salt shaker or salt in the sugar dish, you name it they did it.

Glitterbomb the captain? Oh yeah, and there's still glitter in his mustache.

Tied the two sergeants' doors together so that neither could open it? Done and done, they were locked in their rooms for a good hour until someone cut the rope.

Move the lieutenant’s furniture two inches to the right so that he would constantly stub his toe? Yeah, you can practically see him fuming after every trip to his office.

And what irked the lads the most? Menace kept getting away without being caught— managing to even out sneak Ghost, which the only reason for it is: Menace knowing they don't know what they look like without that mask. So obviously they take it off and blend in with the many other people on base.

They made a fool of their sergeants, their lieutenant, and their captain and it was time to get back at the cunning prankster— but Menace grew suspicious. Usually they would have been booted out by a normal team by then, but what Menace came to realize a bit too late was that Task Force 141 was not normal.

And reality came to a head when Menace was called to Price's office to collect something— only for that something to be a bucket of ice cold water falling onto their head and for the captain to tell their now soaking wet and cold Coporal: "Game's on, brat."

PT 1 | PT 2

[partycatty]

i’m cranking these out like it’s a full time job

can we get some fluff w johnny where we steal his shirt and he just finds it’s the cutest thing how we practically drown in it

love youuu 💙💙

hehe i wuv him sm

johnny cage > rain

notes: i may not be a skinny queen but swimming in one of his shirts would actually cure me of all ailments forever,.,.., WHY ISNT HE REAL!!!!!!!!! @spacepl4ant

[ masterlist ]

• you and johnny had grown attached since meeting at wu shi academy. sure, you knew about his existence because he's a celebrity, but you had gotten to know johnny as a person as well as his screen persona... not that there was much of a difference.

• regardless, tuesdays were "train til you drop" days, oftentimes fighting or practicing routines for literal hours until you couldn't feel your limbs. everyone dreaded it but knew deep down it was necessary. this particular tuesday just so happened to be raining like crazy.

• you and the boys sparred and swung attacks at each other until the sun set, everyone drenched in sweat and rainwater. you all sat underneath a dense tree. kung lao shook the water from his hair, raiden was wringing out his shirt, kenshi didn't seem to mind too much and johnny was... well, using the rainwater as some kind of strange gel as he slicked his hair back.

• "talk about training your ass off," he groans, stretching his arms. "i can't feel a single part of me." you jab his side, making him whine and swat at you.

• "you complain too much," you wring your hair out onto the grass. "that being said, i'm cold and hungry and tired and i wanna go back to the dorms so i can change."

• "i like your thinking," johnny waves off the group and the two of you skip down the gravel path to the students' sleeping quarters, where your separated but loosely divided rooms held what little items you were allowed to bring with you. it was a common practice to walk around campus together, sometimes even arm in arm as you playfully waltzed down the paths. the other boys gave you a lot of trouble for it, whining about the married couple you pretend to be. neither of you stood up to defend yourselves. if anything, johnny found it a nice idea.

• in truth, you drove him wild. he just split from his ex-wife, someone that wanted to place roots down and slow down in life. but you, you were spontaneous, fun loving, and an absolute firecracker. you set his heart going, and he couldn't help but harbor a little crush on you. he couldn't tell you that, not now anyway, with the tournament coming up he knew better than to put an extra weight on you.

• "earth to superstar—" you groan, waving your hand in his face and shaking him of his thoughts. he hadn't even noticed the two of you were already at your sleeping place, and how you're now half dressed in your undershirt and shorts. "just checked my stuff. i don't have anything clean or decent. guess i'll just be soggy for dinner."

• johnny can't seem to focus when you're in a damp tank top. "bummer."

• you frown. "this is when you offer one of yours."

• his eyes are distant. "my what?"

• "jesus, cage, what's gotten into you?" you playfully punch at his chest, which does little to affect his stance, and slide the door open to his own bed arrangement. bending over and shuffling through his obnoxiously nice luggage bags, you find one of his dress shirts. it's a fiery red with small flame patterns.

• "i didn't say you could go through my stuff," he warns you in a teasing tone, head hovering over your shoulder. "you might find something you won't like in there."

• "please," you puff as you flick the shirt of its wrinkles. "i've seen a few rose toys in my day." he chuckled, turning away for a moment.

• he gives you the decency to change by staring into the corner, shamefully dreaming of what you may look like without anything on. he shakes the thought violently as you let out a sigh of contention with the shirt.

• "i get that you're a big guy, but lord," you mutter, tugging and shifting the shirt on your body. "you're bigger than i thought."

• "that's what sh—" johnny turns around with a smirk that quickly drops to the floor. you were wiggling about trying to make the shirt look like your own, but johnny was just so pleased with how it sat on you as it was. his shoulders were broader, leaving the shirt to swim around your own and expose a good deal of your collarbone. his waist was small, giving you some grace by hugging your hips almost as if it was your own top. in that split moment, johnny ponders if the "you're so hot i got a nosebleed" trope was real, wiping the bottom of his nose.

• "suits you," he pulls himself together abruptly with his award-winning grin, patting your shoulder and careful to avoid making contact with your skin, as badly as he wanted to feel your warmth. "after all this, come by my place and i'll get your own wardrobe after my style, how's that?"

• you scoff with your hands on your hips, shifting your weight to one leg. johnny fights the physical stutter at your chest creeping out of the top. "mister playboy here giving out charities to us poor folk. you don't have to do that, really."

• his voice is deadly serious. "i want to."

• "you're an odd one," you point a finger, sitting onto his bed with crossed legs. you fall silent observing his thousand yard stare, how glassy his gaze seems to be when it falls on you. "why do you look at me like that?"

• "like what?" his mouth is dry, eyes fixated on yours.

• "like you wanna kiss me all the damn time," your answer is teasing, not entirely serious but you don't miss the twitch in his lip at your statement.

• "and if i do?" he's testing the waters, something about you in his clothes is making him more bold than he swore to be.

• his answer makes your heart flutter, not expecting a direct comment like that. it changed the air of the room, and you suddenly feel a little more suffocated and insecure under his analytical stare. "why don't you?"

• "because i'm worried i'll want more. you look great in my clothes, by the way."

[sayyourprayers]

Mike not apologising is NOT Will's fault. No matter how many mental gymnastics moves you perform. Neither is Will calling El a stupid girl WRONG, when followed by an overgrown deathcap mushroom screaming homophobic rhetoric in Will's face. Stupid girl is as offhanded a comment as "girls have cooties". It was said to MIKE about him being with a girl (any really) over his friends (his best friend) (after all the shit that happened in S2 and apparently has been happening all summer) (enough for others - Lucas - also coupled - noticing and making a remark) Use BODMAS to solve.

Will does have flaws. Not kissing Mileven's ass isn't one of them. He is NOT a people pleaser. (Like at all, where in the show do we see that?) The word you're looking for is selfless. I think you even looked at it. Two VERY different things. And not causing more harm than good. Is El putting herself in danger causing more harm than good? Or is it necessary? And then others come up to say hey - you really don't have to go that far. There's a few steps between not doing anything and killing yourself. (Referring to closegate)

Let's also not forget his kidnapper/assailant is STILL inside him in a way. He feels him and doesn't just see him when he decides to look. There's no on/off switch. At least it's not in his control.

A mop misreading the status of his friendship with him isn't him setting up the relationship dynamics as such. Sounds like victim blaming. Looks like victim blaming. Would probably answer to being called victim blaming. A paisa for my thought : who builds the dynamic of a relationship? The one wielding some extra power (no matter the fact that the person isn't evil) or the one that's the pushover? Does Will get mistreated cuz he allows himself to be mistreated or because people mistreat him? Seeing as him standing up for himself is seeing as blowing up - and him expressing himself without blowing up is dismissed callously (d&d).

A perpetrator does not need time to heal btw. If I slap someone, I don't need time or opportunity to heal myself before apologising to the person I slapped. S/he's the one hurt. I'm the one that hurt them. Lucas understands this. He even apologises successfully and Will accepts it while not making a show of it. (All the scenes that follow - including firecracker stuff) Mike on the other hand never apologises and the peace they have is tentative in the aftermath of all that transpired at hawkins mall. It's not resolved just pushed back (as seen with Mike's reaction to Will giving away his D&D stuff and Will having to clarify that he will ofc play with the party - something that would never have been doubted has season 3 events not transpired cuz of Mike and then Lucas)

Freeze response is a flaw when he can't save someone ELse from getting bullied? (Victim blaming's identical twin called some more victim blaming) If the result of the response makes it a flaw or not, so far it's been a mixed bag on the show with all kinds of responses then. Freeze/Flight/Fight responses are not flaws. They're close to involuntary responses and calling them a flaw would imply premeditation on Will's part. That's just completely WRONG. No need to elaborate anything there at all.

Character traits aren't just a SWOT analysis. They are what they are and a character functions according to those. This pretty much gives final boss gunslinger Will is where his flaws will be addressed. His canonical bravery against his supernatural assailant means nothing if he isn't pummeling people to the ground, being a noisy whiny asshole or helping his sister-friend not get bullied?

What is the need and basis for this flawnalysis (analysis of flaws or flawed analysis, both work) when it's isolated from what came before and after the coconut tree of life? His freeze response is exactly that - a RESPONSE cultivated as a result of continued experience of bullying and abuse from a very young age. Whether it be on his person or something he witnessed closely around him. How is it a flaw if that is what saves him and keeps the situation from escalating? So far he's the one that's not punched someone and gotten arrested or near arrested for it, disintegrated, caused the death of unwitting people (he is one of them actually). Should that happen for him to erase that flaw?

Will internalising his feelings and then blowing up when things get right upto here is absolutely what can be considered a flaw/ negative character trait. It causes him pain and also creates discord even if temporary. It is NOT a flaw when he's keeping SOME things close to his heart though. Again, all of his responses aren't because of his flaws but some are because of things that happened previously on Stranger Things.

I absolutely look at this resurgence in finding Will's flaws an exercise taken up to find evidence for what's been ordained as truth instead of finding the said flaws in search of textual truth. A way to prop other characters or devalue Will's idk. Overlooking the tone of the show and how heavy handed the characters' designated roles in the story are to instead bestow a seriousness and prestige to the show that it does not at all, at any point in time, seek or strive for, renders the entire analysis (omg it's coming) FLAWED.

[eddiebabygirldiaz]

tease tidbit tuesday

tagged by @transboybuckley @freewayshark @rewritetheending @devirnis

thank ya darlins! yalls work is just !!!!!!!! so good!

here's a snip from my sort of secret project :) (and sorry it's long, im just excited)

Eddie offers Maddie his hand, palm up, no trace of a fist in sight, and her brown eyes flicker with something that could be relief, that smile fading away beneath the weight of grief clouded breath as she takes Eddie’s hand, clasping onto him like he’s the only support she has, like maybe if she holds his hand hard enough then Buck will feel it too.

“Do you need anything?” he winds up asking, unsure of what else he can do but needing to do something for someone other than himself.

Maddie shakes her head. Stops. Shrugs her shoulders. Laughs a little at herself. “I guess saying my brother would be a bit too pathetic, wouldn’t it?”

“No,” Eddie answers truthfully. “No. Not at all. I–” he sighs and lets the rest of that sentence fade away.

I need him too isn’t what she needs to hear right now and it’s not like saying that would do anything anyway.

It wouldn’t alleviate the sickly crush of his bones or the despair hardening his heart or the death that’s more alive in his veins than anything else.

Maddie squeezes his hand as if she understands and maybe she does.

It makes Eddie ache for his own sisters, for their energy and comfort. It makes him ache for a way to heal the hurt splintering across them both. It makes him ache for a time when he and her worked together to bandage up a wounded Buck while he smiled a bloody smile.

The two of them were always enough then. Not so much now.

“Remember the time Buck busted his nose while skateboarding?” Maddie asks and it sounds a bit like she’s talking more to herself than to Eddie but he listens as she continues, the image of a young Buck with curly hair a few shades lighter than it is now hanging in his eyes and coated in the blood smeared across his face so vivid in Eddie’s mind he could touch it.

“He was on the sidewalk trying to race alongside the cars that drove past, waving and smiling like an idiot to anyone that looked at him.” She huffs, laughter clearly not something she is fully capable of at the moment, amusement not strong enough to burst fully out of her.

“Idiot,” Eddie agrees, forcing himself to say it, the word falling out alongside a weak exhalation that was meant to be an answering smile or laugh.

What he really wants to do is beg her not to do this. It sounds too much like the things people kept saying to Eddie after Shannon’s funeral.

Remember when Shannon set firecrackers off during that one football game? Remember how she used to laugh so hard she’d snort? Remember the time she thought she could fix the car by herself even though she knew absolutely nothing about cars? Remember how beautiful she looked when y'all got married?

Everyone was desperate to hand off their memories of her, remind him of who she was as if he had forgotten. Perhaps he had at some point. But each memory felt like a knife slipping beneath his skin, slick and edged with a sharp sting.

It took everything he had not to shout back, Remember how she used to love me? Remember when she left me? When she left our son? Remember the way she used to always want to be around me and how quickly everything changed until she couldn’t stand being in my presence? She was leaving again, did you know? She knew I wasn’t enough, did you know?

Eddie doesn’t want to talk about Buck like he’s already gone. He doesn’t want another love to leave him behind again. He doesn’t want to even consider the possibility that these memories are one day all he will have left, that when he speaks of Buck it will always start with Remember and a story that couldn’t even come close to encapsulating everything Buck is.

tagging @shitouttabuck @elvensorceress @try-set-me-on-fire @lemonzestywrites @spotsandsocks @daffi-990 @exhuastedpigeon @queerdiazs @jeeyuns @spagheddiediaz @queerdiaz @bigfootsmom @honestlydarkprincess @shyaudacity @heterosexistly @hippolotamus @dr-shortsighted-owl @lonelychicago @monsterrae1 @bi-buckrights @sibylsleaves @wikiangela @jesuisici33 and anyone else who wants to share!

[ghoul-slime]

Mushy May Day 8 - Sex Turning Into Making Love (Aether/Dew)

Made it to day 8! I'll be out of town for next the two weekends in a row, so my entries will probably slow down from now on, but I'm happy I made it this far! Was especially (unsurprisingly) looking forward to today's prompt. Thank you again to @forlorn-crows for organizing Mushy May this year and to @ghuleh-recs for the awesome dividers!

Day 8 - Sex turning into making love (Aether/Dew), rated E, 1102 words

Dew’s on him the second he sets foot off the bus, crashing into him so hard Aether stumbles back with a loud oof. The little ghoul barrels into him with such ferocity his cell phone goes flying, landing all the way in the dirt next to the driveway. The other ghouls watch in stunned silence as Dew wraps his legs around Aether and practically climbs him, threading his hands into his hair and showering his face in kisses. All Aether can do is hold on to the fire ghoul for dear life while Dew attacks his face and neck with wild lips and fangs, all right there in the driveway in front of the other ghouls and Papa. Even their tour bus driver, normally used to the ghouls’ antics, seems taken aback by the sudden display.

Swiss breaks everyone’s stupor with a wolf whistle aimed at the two ghouls. “Lucifer below, firecracker, let him up for air eventually, will you?” he teases. “He ain’t going anywhere.”

Dew growls into Aether's mouth and flips Swiss off, never breaking the kiss, hoisting himself higher into the bigger ghoul’s arms, seemingly trying his best to devour Aether’s face.

Eventually Aether does have to come up for air, and when he does, Dew lets out an irritated little hiss.

“Phantom, take my shit inside for me.” Dew barks at the younger ghoul, not once taking his eyes off of Aether’s flushed face.

Swiss steps in, opens his mouth to say something, but Phantom presses a hand to his chest.

“Yeah, sure thing Dew,” he agrees. “But in exchange, you have to do my chores for a week, yeah?”

Dew answers with a thumbs up aimed in Phantom’s general direction, face once again buried back in the juncture of the older quintessence ghoul’s neck and shoulder.

Phantom turns back to beam at Swiss triumphantly.

Aether gathers the squirming little ghoul in his arms, hoisting him up by the ass and turns to make their way towards the entrance of the abbey in an attempt to spare their audience of Dew’s increasingly desperate motions.

Someone calls after them. “Aether, your phone…?” It’s Mountain.

“Keep it safe for me, yeah Mount?” Aether answers back, already halfway inside. He doesn’t wait around for an answer.

By the time Aether kicks their bedroom door shut behind him, Dew’s already got his own shirt off, tossed unceremoniously to the floor somewhere along the way to the room. He’s got Aether’s unbuttoned and half hanging off one of his arms and is working his mouth, hot and wet, down Aether’s neck, licking across his clavicle before sinking desperate fangs into the meat of his pectoral.

Aether deposits Dew onto the bed with a hiss, and the fire ghoul takes the opportunity to shuck his pants and underwear before reaching out to yank Aether, now struggling his way out of his own pants, down by the arm. 

“Dew…!” Aether stumbles onto the bed and lands atop the fire ghoul. He attempts to get a word in, but he’s cut off when Dew wraps his legs around him and pulls him in for a sloppy kiss, biting at his lips and licking into his mouth.

Dew grinds his hips up insistently, dragging his hard cock across Aether’s belly with a groan.

“Aeth, gotta fuck me. You gotta fuck me right now, Aether.” He’s babbling, writhing below him. Eyes squeezed shut and desperate. Aether feels sharp claws scratching across his back, attempting to pull him even closer. “You gotta fuck me right now, I dunno, I… Ah, I can’t… Aether you gotta...”

Dew’s actions are increasingly frantic as he works himself into a frenzy. Hands scrambling to touch Aether anywhere he can, claws flexing and teeth gnashing at Aether between words that are rapidly becoming more incoherent. Aether knows he gets this way, worked up and frustrated with pent up emotions. The last six months had been incredibly hard on the both of them, and Dew’s current state is no doubt a result of all those emotions coming to a head.

Aether presses his forehead to Dew’s and cradles his face in his hands in an attempt to bring the little ghoul back down to earth. He breathes, a slow and even pace, in and out, until Dew’s breath starts to match his. Until the rapid rise and fall of his skinny little chest is replaced by deep, even breaths. 

“Come back to me, baby,” Aether whispers and dips down for a kiss, kisses him steady and sweet until Dew stops writhing and babbling. When Aether looks down at him, his golden eyes are bright and focused again. Grounded.

“Sorry, Aeth,” Dew apologizes between kisses. “Just, it’s been so long. Been waiting so long for this…”

Aether kisses him again, shakes his head and tells him not to apologize. Tells him that he wants this just as bad, missed him so much he thought he might not make it. Aether lets his weight press Dew into the mattress, a way to reassure him that he is here, right here with him. That he’s not going anywhere.

Aether gets Dew spread out on the sheets, takes his time opening him up with his fingers, reveling in the soft heat of the smaller ghoul’s body. A warmth he missed so, so much. 

“Watch me, Dew,” he instructs.

And Dew does, pushes himself up on his elbows to peer down, to watch as Aether takes himself in his hand and lines up. Dew’s jaw goes slack as he watches Aether push himself inside, feeling every inch of him slide into his body, filling him up just how he wants. Giving him everything he’d waited so patiently for.

Aether fucks him, deep and steady, and Dew watches in awe at how perfectly they fit together. He pulls Aether in for another kiss, wrapping his arms around the quintessence ghoul’s neck and holding him close, pressing their bodies together as tightly as possible.

When Aether warns that he’s close, Dew takes his face in his hands, looks up at him with such adoration in his eyes Aether thinks he might pass out.

“Love you, Aether,” Dew whispers, saying the words directly against Aether’s lips as they both lay pressed together, catching their breath. “Love you so fucking much.”

Aether looks down at his little ghoul and his heart swells, he’s never loved anything on earth or in hell as much as he loves Dew. He’d wait for him for a thousand years if he had to. He is everything to him. 

Aether wraps his arms around Dew and tells him so.

[gh0st-t0wn3]

Lmk ss edits + headcanons, Part 5 (Porty MK, Artist MK, Delivery MK)

- He/They

- Gay

- Calls Redson either Wildfire or Firecracker

- Whenever something goes wrong he says "called it." (He did not, in fact, call it)

- Calls everyone "Dude"

- Once took Redson out to the Anti-gravity Arcade and got mad when he passed out after almost 32 hours of non-stop dancing and playing arcade games

- Tells MK that he has no fashion sense but will wear the most atrocious combination of colours and patterns himself

- Has multiple ear piercings as well as a bellybutton and tongue piercing

-  Once threw a party that got busted by the police and dispelled himself to avoid getting caught

- Has so much energy, if he's not at a party he's constantly walking around the apartment, if his legs start hurting he'll sit down for like 8 seconds before getting up and walking around again because he still has so much energy left

- Makes the dirtiest jokes known to man kind

- Makes the others do karaoke night with him. every. week.

- Will sometimes put on lipstick and kiss all over Redsons face and neck to make og MK jealous (trust me guys, please🙏)

- Absolutely HATES dark chocolate, it's too bitter for him

- Despises the claw machine games at the arcade, if he gets something and then it falls out of the claw he'll literally break the glass and just take it

- Lives on energy drinks

- Will refuse to drink any soft drinks when they run out of bubbles

- Loves those cringey alpha wolf memes

- Laughs at those firemen saving people in reverse videos and always sends them to Redson, who also laughs at them (yes it does concern MK and the others)

- Smells like sweat and cotton candy (its from flavoured vape smoke)

- Love language is Quality time (and by quality time I mean partying)

- Has a whole box of glowsticks

- "Hey, hey, hey guys, watch this!!" *fails at trick*

- Loves candy, especially hard candies

- Scams kids out of their tickets at the arcade

- Paints his nails a different colour every week, and almost always uses glow in the dark nail polish

- Tried to make his own firework show once and set three houses on fire

- Would rearrange someone's whole room just to mess with them

- Has a monkey form just like og MK, he uses his tail to take prizes from the claw machines without having to actually play them

- He/They

- Gay

- Calls Redson his Muse

- Would probably collect bones. It freaks the fuck out of MK and the other clones

- Will destroy any and every art piece if it doesn't turn out exactly how he envisioned it in his head

- Writes fanfiction

- Constantly covered in paint splatters, charcoal, glue, etc

- Hates baths, lives off dry shampoo

- He acts like a cat whenever he gets wet

- Takes great care of all his art supplies and will flip out if something is out of place

- Agreed to help Sandy paint his boat again the second time he was summoned but only if Sandy stopped changing what colour he wanted it to be after every new coat of paint (Sandy learnt his lesson the first time art MK was summoned)

- His advice is always "just kill them"

- Bites ankles

- Was almost arrested for vandalism (he ran away from the cops)

- Once painted a picture of Redson, who only said "this is pretty good" (it was in fact a genuine compliment, he loved it), and Artist almost killed him

- Analyzes his dreams as if he's the prophet predicting the end of the world

- Won't let anyone use his art supplies

- Growls at people

- Perfectionist

- Smells like paint fumes

- Love language is gift giving and words of affirmation

- If he's focusing on something really hard and something startles him, he'll jump in the air like a cat

- Was drawing at a park once and a bunch of kids were being annoying so he tripped one when it ran past him

- Collects concept art books from literally anything, movies, video games, TV shows, it doesn't even matter if he's played/watched them he just likes looking at the concept art

- Insomniac who 'cures' it with an unholy amount of caffeine

- Has drank paint water before, will do it again

- Extremely passive agressive

- MK yelled at him once for getting paint all over his bed

- Has a monkey form just like og MK, he uses his tail to reach higher places when painting on walls and shit

(Had to use og MK has a base ref because the show did delivery MK dirty)

- He/They

- Gay

- Calls Redson Paprika

- Loves straws, will only ever drink something if he uses a straw (I did this as a kid)

- Is constantly listening to music while doing deliveries and has absolutely passed his destination on multiple occasions

- Surprisingly witty

- Is the only MK who knows how to cook and genuinely loves it

- Has a little bit more chub than og MK does (duplicatnation did him dirty and I will never forgive them for his design)

- Has gotten into physical fights with rude customers before and would do it again

- Absolutely HATES eating fish

-His shoe laces are never tied, the amount of orders he's ruined because he tripped on his stupid laces is insane

- If he gets bored he'll just lay on the floor and do nothing

- Has accidentally eaten dog food before

- After a long day of delivering he'll pass out for hours at a time then wake up again at like 2am

- "Not to be rude, but.." proceeds to say the most disrespectful shit you've ever heard

- Either cannot keep a secret for the life of him, or will immediately forget the secret 5 mins after being told what it is, no in-between

- Him and the other clones accidently broke into a strangers house once, and he felt really bad so he cleaned the dishes before leaving (it was on the news)

- Will @ a specific person in a group chat instead of just dming them

- Sometimes eats out of the noodles he's delivering, no one has found out yet

- Smells like noodles

- Love language is Acts of service

- If he gets into a fight with someone he is fully willing and ready to resort to biting

- Saw Monkey King eat his own hair once and almost threw up

- Sometimes if a customer is being rude while ordering over the phone he'll purposely drive slow or take a longer route so their noodles are cold when they get them (og MK has told him to stop multiple times because he's scared of Pigsy thinking he's the reason they get any bad reviews)

- Has a Spotify Playlist for every possible occasion

- Gives out really good hugs and will hug people for really long periods

- Cries when he sees sad animal videos

- Can't whistle to save his life

- Has a monkey form just like og MK, he uses his tail to hold more orders to get work done faster

[screamintoad]

Cherrycard kid-Jane Trappola

“Man, what an honor! My dads told me all about Night Raven College but actually being here…why it’s incredible!”

SHES HOLDING A BROOM

Voice claim: TBA

Character info

  Jane is a spunky girl with a fiery spirit. She tries to be humble but because of her magical prowess she can sometimes be cocky and people will take it the wrong way. She’s decided that those people just aren’t worth dealing with and sticks close to her tight knit group of friends. At lunch she usually sits with her grandpa and eats with him and they use that time to catch up. She takes pride in being in Heartslabyul. 

  She grew up in the Queendom of Roses as almost next door neighbors to the Spade family. Whenever there was a vacation break that her family could take they would either go to the Shaftlands to visit the Howl’s, Schoenheit’s, and Felmier’s or to Briar Valley to visit the Zigvolt’s, Vanrouge’s, or even the royal family. “It pays off making connections in school.” Is what her papa always tells her. Constantly learning things from new places gained her a lot of experience and knowledge that she likes putting to use. She’s definitely a mini Ace and some people would comment on it with pity to Rory but, he always snapped back at them about how he wouldn’t want her to feel like she has to hide herself in any capacity. 

Fun facts: Chronically single. Rory taught her how to play guitar. In middle school she found a puppy in an alleyway on her way home, her family still has her and she was named Calliope. Ace taught her tons of card games and tricks. She has a bad habit of relying on her magic too much, even using it for normal daily tasks. Her love for the macabre and goth has deterred some people away but if given the chance, she could talk about her likes, dislikes, hobbies, etc. for hours. 

Basic info

Age: 16

Height: 160cm, 5’2 (out of platforms)

B-day: August 28th (Virgo)

Dominant hand: Right

Family: Rory and Ace Trappola (Papa and Dad), Divus Crewel (adopted grandpa)

Nickname: Starling and Firecracker (by family)

1st year

Class A

Club: Board game club

Best subject: Alchemy

Hobbies: Exploring campus, playing with her dog at home, and playing guitar

Pet peeve: People who judge before getting to know someone

Favorite food: strawberry pastries

Least favorite food: Broccoli.

Talent: Honing her magic to manipulate it in intricate ways

Character dynamics

Alaric Vanrouge: One part of a trio. He’s definitely more soft spoken than her but they can both talk about their favorite things for ages. She sneaks out of NRC to visit him at RSA sometimes. 

Fleur Vanrouge: Older sister figure. Since Jane is an only child she thrives when hanging out with Fleur. They would take walks around the Vanrouge property and sometimes Blanche would let Jane help out at the bakery. Girl talks go hard between Jane, Fleur, and Luna. 

Luna Howl: Her, Alaric, and Jane are a trio that are menaces. Well two menaces and an Alaric. They’re all partners in crime much to their parents chagrin. These two spent hours running around the Howl family property and they continue to spend hours running around NRC. 

Joey Howl: Older brother figure. He’s the one who would tell the trio to not get too dirty or get into too much mischief. Jane took full advantage when she realized that him and Fleur liked each other and would help Luna try to set them up. Whenever Jane got into trouble at her old school she would call him before her parents to get some older brother advice before parent advice. 

Angel Spade: Neighbor and childhood friend part 1. Ginger cat and black cat dynamic. Jane is certainly the loud to his quiet. They still look out for each other though and bond over various video games. 

Diana Spade: Neighbor and childhood friend part 2. They’re also roommates at their dorm! They’re pretty different but growing up as neighbors with their dads working together made em figure out how to get along. Every weekend they’ll have movie nights. 

Lana Bucchi: New friend! Lana made a loud introduction and ever since, they’ve been quite the friends. They have the good? Bad? Habit of matching each other’s energy. Which is sometimes good, sometimes bad. 

Mika Bucchi: Alaric’s roommate that she met on accident. They haven’t interacted much but she’s heard a lot about him from Alaric. She can tell he’s really nice and she gets along with his sister. 

Mallory Draconia: Menaces in crime. Think of Malleus and Rory’s friendship but the complete opposite. They’re the gremlin duo that need separated, if one is in trouble, the other is also in trouble with them. Except Mallory will talk them out of trouble. 50/50 chance it works. 

Marven Leech: These two absolutely need separated. They roughhouse all the time and the twins make it almost a challenge to see who can throw Jane farther. She absolutely loves it though and loves having them as found brothers. When she told her dads about them they turned as pale as ghosts. 

Evelio Leech: He’s as bad as his brother. But they have calm moments where they talk about their interests and what’s going on with their schoolwork. 

Alora Leech: Again, need separated sometimes. These two are peas in a pod, they share so many common interests and hobbies. On top of being in the same club. They’ll pass around scary stories like candy. 

HOWL KIDS BELONG TO @blood-red-bumblebee SPADE’S BELONG TO @skibidibabygirl BUCCHI’S BELONG TO @twtysevapr LEECH’S BELONG TO @angelwishess AND MALLORY BELONGS TO @moonyasnow TELL ME IF I GOT ANY INFO WRONG OR YOU WANT SOMETHING CHANGED OR ADDED

and extra tags: @gimmeurmoneyagh @babyghoul138 @theolivetree123 @4necdote @midnightmah07

@justm3di0cr3 @beneathsakurashade @bunniehunn

[anisespice]

“ PARTY AT A RICH DUDE’S HOUSE ”

synopsis: after getting dumped, your friends propose you crash his house-party and completely wreck the place using the guise of the rambunctious partygoers as cover. little did you know, someone's been watching you.

warnings: mature language, mentions of violence, vandalism, suggestive undertones, MDI. tesla slander(?) hate those cars so so so much. i honestly don't know, i think this one's pretty tame :))

notes: kesha lives rent free in my head lol. also got inspired by that scene from the movie “bottoms” where they blow up the douchbag’s car >:))) not sure how i feel about it :// but it was fun to write helped with writer's block sooo hope you enjoy!!

notes ii: yall WHY WON'T WORDS WORD ANYMORE I-

It wasn’t difficult infiltrating the party. With all the commotion pouring inside and out, people taking full advantage of their host’s endless bounds of resources and bottomless pockets, blending in was a snap. Immediately, your senses were overwhelmed with the stench of sweat and bad decisions. Smoke clouded your vision as did the rumbling bass of the music, the music rattling you to where you could feel it in your bones.

An annoyance builds every time a partygoer bumped into you as you sifted through the crowds, driving you to start elbowing and shoulder-checking everyone around you. You received stank looks and slurred curses, but it merely molded with the rest of the noise surrounding you.

They were all basically there to celebrate your misery, so fuck them.

Even though you were on the prowl for the douche-nozzle himself to give him a piece of your mind, at some point you got caught up with various cups of who know's what in your hand, downing them like a fish out of water. You welcomed the delightful burn as it rolled down your esophagus, seeping into the wounds of your broken heart, and right into your stomach like a hot stone. You fought back the urge to vomit fire, body vibrating as you mentally set your mission on a different course...the garage.

“Y’know, that’d go a lot quicker if you used this.” 

You yelped. Nearly slipping off of the cyber truck you were currently jumping on you regained balance in the last second, crouching down to slap your hands on the cool metal to steady yourself. While attempting to put a dent through the aluminum foil-ass top, you failed to notice your lone audience member chilling in a corner of the 10-car garage. How long he’d been standing there, you had no idea. All you knew was you had about four seconds to either teleport or hightail it to the nearest exit before he got a good look at your face.

“Shitshitshit,” you hissed, hurriedly and clumsily sliding down off the car, ready to book it. You really wished you hadn't drank as much before attempting to do this, but in your defense, you weren't expecting to have...company. However, as soon as your feet touched the floor, the stranger coaxed out to you with a free hand raised in peace, delaying your panicked scrambling. 

“Hey, hey, relax. Believe me, if I wanted to narc on you I would’ve done so when you lit those firecrackers off in the guest bathroom. Hilarious, by the way."

Your heart sunk. An uneasy feeling formed in the pit of your stomach, not sure whether to be relieved or devastated—Question is, why didn’t he tell anyone?

Remaining vigilant you peered over your shoulder at him, guard up. “Who're you?”

He raised a brow. “Pretty sure that’s my line, sweetheart.”

You glared, turning around fully to scrutinize him. From the way he was dressed—Designer from head to toe even if on the casual side, blinding Rolex on his wrist paired with a few rings, equally icy studs in his ears along with a thin, and golden chain rested upon his toned, inked chest—He had money, no doubt about it. Not too bad on the eyes either..

Shaking your head of that last thought, you scoffed, “Don’t call me that. ‘m not anyone’s ‘sweetheart’.”

He shrugged, coyly. “Be happy to fix that, if you’d like.”

“Do I look in the mood for funny shit?"

He chuckled, tilting his head. “Nah, 'course not. Look more like you’re itching to bust some more shit up. But, gotta say, how you’re going about it s’kinda redundant. Those things may look like they're made out of construction paper, but you’ll tire out before you even make single scratch. So.. figured you’d appreciate a more practical approach.”

Too preoccupied giving him the stank eye, you hadn't seen the weapon rested in his other hand. Once you set your eyes on it and allowed his words to fully register, they slowly widened. The stranger’s grin sharpened at your muted interest, flicking his wrist to spin the slab of metal around before resting it coolly on his shoulder.

"Ah, crazy girl’s in the mood now?"

Your curiosity morphed back into annoyance instantly at his cheeky comment. “I am not crazy.”

He hummed. “Could’ve fooled me.”

“Look, smartass, I'll have you know that I have a very good reason—” you pointed, ready to dump hours of alcohol-fueled rage on this stranger, only for him to immediately extinguish it with a mere wave of his hand.

“And you can tell me all about it when we go out for dinner after this. You want the bat or not?"

You paused, confused. Flabbergasted, even. Did this fool just ask me out?, you thought. Maybe you were just a little bit too tipsy and misheard, so you let it slide for now. With a huff, you finally said, skeptically, "Why...are you helping me?"

The stranger merely shrugged once more, eyes coated in mischief as he gave another spin of the bat. "Doesn't every criminal need a henchman?"

BAJI, HANMA, kazutora, mikey, draken, most of toman really, rindou, ran, izana,[insert anyone else who would fit].

© 2024-2025 anisespice ッ all rights reserved. likes, comments & reblogs much appreciated!

[lfghughes]

Firecracker ft. Trevor

a/n: a cute little meet the family request I got. for all my angsty people though get ready because i have an angsty trevor coming up

“Are you nervous?” You asked and almost immediately Trevors attention snapped towards you. He was currently driving you both to your parents house where you would be spending the extended weekend with them and most of your family for a fourth of July get together. “No, I’m fine. Why?” Oh he was definitely nervous even if he wanted to play it off like he wasn’t. “You’ve been tapping your fingers on the wheel, you never do that.” 

“It’s just a longer car drive than I’m used to.” This coming from the boy who spent a good chunk of his year on the road and in plane rides that were longer than this. But you weren’t going to push it and point that out. You knew that meeting your whole family for the first time was going to be nerve wracking even if he wanted to pretend like it wasn’t. Before you two came here he had confided in you that this was his first time really doing this with someone which was sweet in a way but your family especially the kids were going to give him a run for his money.

The minute you two walked through the front door it was pure chaos. All your little cousins were running around, chasing each other. The adults were all huddled in the kitchen getting some meal ready and immediately the room erupted with cheers when they finally noticed you two walking in amidst the chaos. “Oh here’s the boyfriend we’ve heard all about.” Your mom gushed as she walked over hugging Trevor right away. Good thing he was a people person because she has no concept of personal space.

You could tell that he was still nervous as he eased himself into conversation and a part of you wished he would just be more like himself because you knew he would fit right in. “Trevor, I watched some highlights of you on YouTube, you’ve got a hell of a shot.” Now it was your dads turn and you groaned at the slight embarrassment of knowing your dad Youtubed your boyfriend. Both of you helped out in the kitchen, helping get the food ready and as some time passed you could tell he was getting more and more comfortable with the conversations.

You had known your family would have liked him but you also had known that saying those words wouldn’t have done anything to ease his nerves because how often do people hear that? All throughout lunch he talked to your family from all different types of topics and even entertained your dads talk of his sudden knowledge of hockey. After you were all done eating your little cousins all surrounded him. “Wanna play with us? We set up field hockey outside.”

Of course he couldn’t say no and you watched from the deck as he played with the kids, making them laugh as he played with them. You were so focused on watching him and how great he was with the kids that you didn’t even notice your mom sliding up next to you. “He’s a good kid. Thought we would for sure scare him off on accident but he’s fitting right in.” She laughed and you nodded your head. “Trust me, he’s just as wild as all of you. I’m hoping those kids tire him out.” You teased.

Somehow they managed to play for a good chunk of the afternoon, only stopping for dinner before he then got roped into playing some other game with them. By the end of the night when you two had finally retired back to your room you couldn’t help but laugh at how exhausted he looked. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this tired not even after a game.” He laughed as he flopped down into the bed. “Well buckle up, Z. You got four more days of this.”

[pilferingapples]

@bobafish, re:

#please elaborate on courf's temper 👀👀#tbh I hadn't heard that before

OK! :D these are just Thoughts about him character wise and not like...deep XD

to be clear I don't think Courfeyrac has a BAD temper, I don't think he's a screamy scary guy who blows his top all the time! I want to make that clear; Courfeyrac is clearly A Delight and a charmer.

I do think he has a quick temper, though--quick like a firecracker, where it flares up and dies back in a blink, and , usually ,doesn't do any harm. Two main points make me think this: 1- the Charter Torching Scene. He's just talking with Combeferre, who he knows fundamentally agrees with him, but he gets so worked up about the existence of the Charter itself that he has to throw it in the fire. This is fine! It's a stupid pamphlet none of them need, he's being Dramatic and it's very funny-- but it's definitely not a Relaxed Easygoing Move XD It's pretty much a summary of how I think his temper works-- he gets riled up, he makes a quick comment or gesture (in this case: Setting A Thing on Fire) and he's done. A quick temper, not a bad temper. 2- "Hold your tongue, you cask!" said Courfeyrac. (Night Falls on Grantaire) Couldn't think of any better leadup to it than that XD Courfeyrac is the first of the barricade fighters to lose his patience with Grantaire; it's not a big scene , it's just a quick "shut up" with a little extra insult, and --as I've said of Enjolras' rebuke to Grantaire in this scene-- it is fully deserved, Grantaire is being an ass in this scene. I don't think Grantaire even processes it, he just launches off in another direction. >< But he is the first person to tell Grantaire to shut up, getting exasperated with him even faster than Enjolras, who is pretty much Done with Grantaire's nonsense from the get-go.

There's also the way he's so quick with teasing, sometimes with results you know he doesn't want (like Marius avoiding him for days XD) . All of the Amis are pretty jokey, but Courfeyrac's noted by the narrative to be particularly fast on the draw with a nickname or a bit of a jab.

Again I hasten to say I don't think this makes him a Terrible Person-- I actually kinda roll my eyes at the level of Offense some people take off him -- but I think it's a little piece of characterization that separates him from Legle's more monologuing style of puns, or Grantaire's ...whatever the heck Grantaire is doing XD Courfeyrac gets associations with fire, for his warmth, and sometimes even a nice well contained fire can send out a spark that makes someone yelp; and he gets compared with cats and kittens, and sometimes even a very sweet cat will catch someone with its claws in passing- or on purpose, now and then .

(I bet he can be absolutely brutal when he wants, but that's reserved for people who have it coming. Like Rousseau. Kick his ghostly ass, Courfeyrac.)