#and now the rest of the fuckin story is going to shit and has less effort than a sleepy 3 am hand job

[phantom-of-the-keurig]

I’ve defended bad batch and fought for it since day one bruh I was in the fuckin trenches getting shelled on the daily. I loved this show. I truly believed it was some of the best Star Wars content to date, that even if it was a little rough around the edges, it would all be worth it.

What a fuckin joke 😭 Game of Thrones season 8 ass

#I was holding out hope that Tech’s death would actually mean something or we’d get closure #I gave up on him coming back #but that didn’t happen obviously and the social media teams spent a year teasing us about it #for no pay off #and now the rest of the fuckin story is going to shit and has less effort than a sleepy 3 am hand job #to make way for Rex + Echo cool popular clone mass market appeal show #bad batch you’ve betrayed and humiliated me #literally what happened to mandalorian did near fatal damge to me and bad batch was my life support #that’s been yanked from me too LOL #sw salt

[khuzena]

Just a coworker

Dr ratio x g/n!reader (i tried)

Part 1, Part 2

cw. angst, super slow burn, they eventually get tgt, hurf/comfort, jealousy brr, reader is unhinged, mentions of drugs, kinda cringe but who cares I've written worse, not proofread, dr ratio is a pussy

a/n: I HATE LIFE SJNAANAN

A week passed and you got the jist of it, you were already done with the basics but everytime that man always found a reason to keep tutoring you.

You were grading some papers until you felt someone looming over you and snooping around your laptop.

“Hey!”

“Do you really need to shout?”

You hid your laptop away from him as he pried for any more info, causing you to kick his leg.

“Who’re you talking to?”

“Why the hell would you care? Plus im grading some papers, you asshole”

You typed away as he didn't leave your side, just watching you input some values— damn one of your students got a 2/100? Might as well make them repeat a grade.

“Which idiot fails literature? More or less just essay writing?”

“Uh…”, you paused, your other hand getting your coffee and sipping on it, “An illiterate person?”

No other words were shared as you two just sat in silence, him staring at the grading sheet and you typing away on your keyboard.

…

It was a quiet day, peaceful even. If it weren't for a fight that broke out at the food court. You should mind your business, but your favourite student had been gravely injured; worry comes easy.

You ran to the student, one hand rested on his leg as it bled, “Hey, stay with me— breathe.”

Your student, Mike, had been buying some coke from some guy in your coworker’s class, turns out Mike got scammed and well, you did not know the full story to take any full action but the blood shed was enough to panic.

“Mike, Mike!”

You held him, you were not an expert at cpr or had any training on how to deal with that much bleeding or anything about dealing with concussions.

Shit, shit.

“We need a doctor!”

Despite your desperate yelling, none were brave to come forth to help, the others just recording or covering their eyes.

What were you supposed to do?

You held onto mike as the others tried to restrain the guy that hurt him, this was bad.

Until you saw Veritas buying some coffee at the new coffee shop from weeks ago.

“Hey you!”

Veritas does not flinch, he does not respond.

“DOCTOR VERITAS RA—”

He groaned, about to run away yet you yelling his full name was enough to make him regret not buying earplugs prior to this incident.

He walked up to you and your student as he kneeled at the both of you’s level.

“What exactly happened?”

No matter how much he hates you and your guts, he still has a duty as a doctor.

“Some asshole beat him up, fuckin’ hell”

He doesn't say anything, before laying Mike down in a more comfortable position and getting a pill from his pocket.

“What's that?”

“Tylenol”

He forced open Mike's mouth and shoving down a pill.

“Isn't that a tad bit aggressive?” Mike was near choking as you patted his back and elevated his seating position.

“So it's better to airplane the pill in his mouth like he's 2 and let him die then?”

“That's not what I meant.” you sneered before some guys from the medical department ran to your side and took care of it.

Now you two were just standing behind the infirmary door and waiting for any update.

“I'm going to miss my class because of you.”

You laughed, the audacity of this man?

“Then go, I didn't ask you to stay.”

It's so hard to read this man when he has his alabaster head on, you can't even tell what he's thinking.

“You talk too much”

“You started it!”

“Just stop talking”

“Whatever.”

You peaked through the window and saw Mike unconscious on his bed, even though it wasn't your fault, it feels like it is…

You sighed as the nurse left the room, standing still before she spoke, “He's fine. It's good that you and Dr. Ratio was there.”

“Uhh yeah…”

You really didn't do much…

Veritas stayed silent as the nurse left, he's not one to like small talk.

“huff… huff… finally.”

You raised an eyebrow, before registering whose voice it was, your eyes lighting up.

“Amir!”

“Whew… I had to end class early, I learned about what happened too late.”

“It's not your fault”

Amir sighed while leaning so ungodly close to you, before Veritas had some audacity left in him to make a comment, “Actually, it is.”, he really has no shame does he?

“I apologise.”

“Now you're just being rude.”

Veritas turned away, can't that man just leave you both alone?

“I don't care. It was both your student's that got into this mess.”

“I have over a hundred students, how could I monitor all of them?”

“Yet you still have to take responsibility for it. I can't believe you let it get to that level.”

“Then leave, if you're just gonna be rude then shut up.”

Amir's jaw hung when he heard you literally tell the Dr. Ratio himself to shut it, not even the people from the IPC would have this level of audacity. It was your last straw, you've already dealt with enough bullshit for the day.

Usually, he would have some snarky reply up in his sleeves but what's crazy is that he just walked away.

“Did you just—”

“I did.”

“Wow.”

—

You were already about to go home as it was getting late, who knew having to shoulder the aftermath of that fight would be that tiring? No shit sherlock.

Peace and quiet, no one to bother you—

“You there.” that familiar voice echoing in the hallways as loud stomps were nearing your direction.

You spoke too soon. Why him of all people?

“You didn't come to today's tutoring session.”

You crossed your arms, looking up at him. Wow. He wasn't wearing his alabaster head? Can't say that it's new but the opportunity to stare at his face was a rare occurrence. But, he infuriates you too much that you'd rather kiss mud than oogle at him.

“And?”

“What do you mean ‘and’? I was waiting for you.”

You eyed him up and down, he did look upset. But did he really think you'd have the energy to confront him, much less see him after what happened today?

“I told you I wouldn't be able to attend tutoring lessons as I have someone to tutor too”

“When did you say that?”

“Two days ago?”

He was baffled, utterly baffled. When did you say that? You must be lying. Despite his stone head obstructing you from any chance to see him right now, by his voice, he was fuming.

He crossed his arms, his right foot tapping aggressively, “I do not recall you saying that.”

“But I did.”, his eyebrows furrowed as you spoke with clear conviction, what do you mean you did?

“You should've told me.”

“I did.”

“Then— why are you being so difficult?”

“It's not me who's being difficult, why are you even mad?”

Like that, the words at the tip of his tongue vanished. Exactly, why was he so worked up?

“You're just using this as an excuse to not deal with the issue.”

You had enough of his bullshit. You started to walk the other way but he just couldn't leave you alone.

“And what if I am? Get lost.”

“We need to talk.”

You turned your heel and faced him, face red and hot then you pointed at him,

“About what? About how sure it's absolutely my fault about what happened today, I'm an idiot, I don't know anything!”

“Now you're just blowing the issue up into something completely different.”

“What else is there to say?”

“You—”

He got silent, biting his lip under that stone head as his temper got the best of him.

“You really are an idiot.”

…

“Just leave me alone.”

There were no other words exchanged as you walked away, your footsteps getting more faint as a second, another one and another pass.

He shook his head at your outburst, you really were an idiot, incompetent and… whatever. At least now that blabbermouth always peering over his shoulder is gone.

…

As you walked home, you couldn't help but cry. There was nothing to cry over but it was too much. The heads berating you for not paying attention to your students, that a scandal like that could ruin the university— to hell with that shit, to hell with that university.

At least you felt safe, at home, with the company of your cats.

“Meow?”

Ah.

You hugged your cat, its fur getting wet as tears dripped, you were starting to taste the saline tears as it creeped into the corners of your lips.

Your phone rang with notifications from the doctor, Wait— how'd he even get your number? shit. But god won't he just leave you alone?

With a click, the notifications died down leaving only your quiet sniffles and your cat’s purr to be heard in the living room.

You didn't have any energy to eat, to hell with your health.

You turned off the lights and plopped into your bed, your cat joining you (yay) as the soft glow of the lamp illuminated the room.

You let out a yawn, turning the lights off but there was a call notification.

‘From Unknown Number’

You felt the urge to swipe and listen to what he had to say, but it's probably bullshit.

You fell asleep.

[From Unknown Number.]

:hey.

:answer me.

:stop being so difficult and just give me 3 minutes.

:Are you there?

:idiot.

:hey.

[99 more unread messages]

…

Time flies, three days flew by already yet it still feels like yesterday. You feel like shit, yeah the issue has been resolved, everything's fine but why did something just feel so wrong?

It was a good rest though, bless that lady who allowed you to have a few days off.

[From Unknown Number]

:I know you're seeing this.

:Stop acting like a child.

:Come on.

:You moron.

[231 more unread messages]

…

Phew, when you entered the faculty room, there was no Veritas in sight. Good, good.

You laid down your satchel on your desk and readied some stuff before heading out, making sure to check all hallways before you make a move; don't want to see the Doctor so early in the morning. (checking every hallway 24/7? What is this? Fnaf?!?)

Things were uncannily peaceful today, did he not come to work today? Or… Maybe you just got really lucky that you both did not cross paths for today.

“And,” you wrote diligently on the whiteboard, “That ends our discussion for today.”

The time ticked to 4:58 pm, you could already see some of your students pack their things.

“Any questions?”

They all shook their heads no as you finally dismissed them, oh how you missed being in your classroom despite being away for merely 3 days.

Today's a lucky day, no issues, no Veritas Ratio in sight.

“Hey __”

You jolted at the sudden call of your name, your head turning from the sound as you see Amir with a worried expression.

“Oh, Amir?”

So suddenly, he pulled you into a hug.

“What're you doin—”

“I was worried.”

“About?”

“You were no contact with everyone for three days, we were all worried.”

You awkwardly laughed, Amir was a fine man, definitely not your type though. You squirmed away from his hold.

“Yeah, just needed a break”

“Oh, I see.”

He paused, “You good now?”, his tone laced with concern.

“Yeah, at least I think so.”

“That's good.”

Your best friend, he was not stupid. He was intuitive too, he eyed you like you were some sort of experiment and like with any experiment, he's made his hypothesis.

“You don't sound ‘good’”

“What do you mean?”

“Is this about Dr. Ratio?”

Bingo, right on the money. There was no use trying to lie to him, especially not after chuckling awkwardly when you got caught.

You nodded, confirming his guess, “Knew it.”

He was in deep thought as he tried to think of any and every possibility why.

“Are you guys dating or something?”

You choked on your own spit— him of all people? Is he out of his mind? At this point, the idea of getting with that socially inept man sounds like an insult.

“Are you trying to piss me off?”

“Calm down sponge bob squarepants, geez”

You groaned as he handed you a juice box. “Thanks,” you quietly muttered out.

…

It was 5 pm, by now, everyone's probably clocked out by now.

It's weird, a 5 pm where you don't get tutor lessons from him.

Whatever, food for thought.

As you left the faculty room, a small part in you wanted to catch a glimpse of him despite you trying to avoid him. Did you miss him? or was just not being alone at these hours too comforting?

He wasn't there. As expected.

…

The next day, you see Veritas, you two walk past each other, he did not spare you a glance.

“Doctor…”

Wind breezes through the both of you but you stood still as he kept walking to his class. How cold.

It was no use trying to confront him, atleast, not here.

For a second, your gaze softened but you quickly got back to your senses. This feeling was strange.

…

The bell rang and, as usual, everyone left. What a fulfilling job.

This week has been really quiet. Peaceful but something was missing. Your life was fun, not this mundane even before Veritas but a part of you looks for him. No no, you were just being insane or something.

The faculty room door slid open, then, just as you wished would never happen (oh really?) Veritas was at you guys’ usual tutoring spot.

You wanted to run but your bag was there. Mustering up the courage, you tiptoed and grabbed your satchel, it felt like playing a horror game with how stealthy you were trying to be.

Shit.

Your pen fell, hopefully it didn't catch his attention.

Just as you were about to go grab it, he took it and handed it to you.

You gulped and took the pen, wanting to run but you froze on the spot.

“You look stupid trying to act stealthy.”

You didn't reply, only gulping nervously as you stayed still.

“What? Say something.”

Truth is, you had nothing to say.

“Sigh, you really like making things so difficult, don't you?”

He doesn't stop you from leaving, but maybe it was you stopping yourself from leaving.

An awkward silence ensued, it was getting annoying, for him, atleast.

“Aren't you going to leave?”

You don't say anything, just standing still, again.

“Answer me.”

Why did you enter the room?

“...” Veritas walked up to you, his codex not in hand as leaned closer.

“Give me 3 minutes.”

He raised your chin with a finger, face unreadable despite his alabaster head gone. It's the third or fourth? You've lost count how many times you saw his real face. Your memory was shit.

“I just want to talk about how…”

He bit his lip, yet his eyes remained fixed on your blank expression.

“That I want to apologise for my behaviour last week.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

That same old silence, he couldn't find the right words, he doesn't know how to say sorry.

“Well…”

“Well?”

Did he stutter? That's odd; very.

“I…” His eyes leave yours, he's practised saying it but it's the hardest thing he'll ever have to do, “I'm…”

Curious eyes gaze into his conflicted ones. Can he even say it?

“So…” sorry.

“I'm sorry.”

You stare at him with shock, did he just apologise?

“Did I hear that right?”

“God damn it.”

He pulled away and walked away to his desk but you followed him, “Hey, did you mean it?”

“Why wouldn't I?”

He knew you'd react like this, he expected you to laugh, mock him or anything but you just look at him with a look of shock—

“I see.”

—And somewhat relieved of what he said.

“I'm sorry too.” He was envious of how easily you spoke those words, you were no genius, yet you were better than him at apologising.

“I shouldn't uh—”

“I just want to say that—”

You cleared your throat, licking your lips in anxiety, “You go first”

“No you—”

“No, you.”

He hung his head low, before looking in your direction.

“It was uncalled for me to treat you and that man that way.”

“I'm listening.”

“I didn't take into account that you both were probably stressed from the situation and…”

He couldn't find the words, nothing was new to him. Complex maths? Easy. Medicine? Easy. Philosophy? Done. History? Is this a joke? He knows everything!

Other than one thing.

“I'm sorry.”

Apologising.

His words brought you immense relief, it was your turn to speak. For the first time, you can read his face. He looked pitiful. Did he not get enough sleep lately?

“I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have lashed out on you.”

How could you just have the knack to be so… Human? That, he couldn't understand. Being genuine, felt new.

“I understand.”

…

“What now?”

He fixed his books on the shelf, the ones he wanted to share with you.

“I dont know.”

“I thought you knew everything?”

He rolled his eyes as you teased him for it, he shouldn't have apologised.

“Stop talking, and also.”

He handed you some wipes, what was it for?

“Your hand,” you looked down at your dominant hand, seeing whiteboard marker creases, “Clean it up.”

“Oh okay.”

You wiped the stains off, but you wondered how perceptive he was. You didn't even notice it yourself.

“How's the tutor lesson with your student?”

Ah, that guy. It's been long since you've finished tutoring him with the basics.

“Went smoothly, he passed his exam”

He hummed, he finished tidying up his desk, good that you listened to his lectures.

“What did you teach him?”

“Until just page 25”

“Huh?”

But you studied the entire book with him, if you just needed help with just page 25, the tutor session would've only taken a week.

“Did you just keep going to the tutor sessions to see me?”

“Maybe, maybe not”

A soft smile creeped up in your face as you saw him short circuit for a bit before regaining his senses.

“You jest”

“I do not.”

…

“So… When's the next session?”

“At my place, tonight. It's getting late.”

Oh? At his place? What a bold offer—

“Just reviewing?”

“Just reviewing.”

You laughed as he rolled his eyes, the two of you leaving the faculty room.

“Under one condition.”

You raised an eyebrow, what was he asking for now?

“A date.”

“Pardon?”

“Do I have to repeat myself?”

You choked on your spit, that's absurd— god.

“No, I heard you. Fine.”

“Agreeing that easily?”

“Do you want me to refuse?” He was starting to get cocky, might as well drag him back down to earth.

“No, you still need to learn more about Quantum Mechanics.”

“Fine.”

…

Veritas pulled you close to him as you both walked the sidewalk, isn't he such a gentleman?

“The tab's on you?” no way were you paying the tab, he better pay it.

He scoffed, he could feel you hold onto his arm as he made sure you were on the right side of the lane to protect you of some sort.

“Whatever, you moron. Hurry up, we still have so much to review.”

A/N: its so bad wtf😭😭😭😢

#dr ratio x reader #dr ratio x you #dr ratio fluff #dr ratio angst #hsr fluff #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x you #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail angst #veritas ratio

[insomniamamma]

Circle, Circle: Dieter Bravo X f!reader

A/n: written for my @yearofcreation2023 Year of Kisses. This prompt was a kiss for comfort, and a whole lot of real life happened between when I started this and now. This is a love letter to the theater nerds I knew in high school and the theater nerd I became later in life. This one turned out different than I thought it would. This story refused to be smutty. This story refused to be sexy. I don't make the rules. Inspired largely by this.

warnings: drug and alcohol use, angst, implied fatphobia, insecurity, cuddles and fluff, being dieter's best friend implies it's own warning.

You saw the clip. Annika belting Dieter in the chops in the middle of some posh party while Kate looked on with the kind of face you make when your drunken best friend barfs in a potted plant at your parents house. You never loved me! You never loved me at all! Dieter's hands thrown up in self defense, grinning at the cameras as security goons hook their arms around Annika's waist and pull her out of the shot. Day in the life.You saw the clip and knew what was coming. Dieter fuckin Bravo.

You've known D since middle school, gravitating towards each other because no one else wanted anything to do with either of you. The girls called you stupid and fat and ugly. The boys called him faggot. So you'd banded together, smoking cigarettes you stole out of your Gramma's dresser, smoking shake-weed out of pop-can pipes at the edge of school grounds, right under that stupid sign that read 'drug free school zone' and then kicking it into the tall grass when some terminally bored teacher's aide came to round up you and D and the rest of the burnouts. Nobody ever gave you more than the cursory straighten up and fly right speech. Neither of you were actively failing so no one cared. Then, in high school Dieter discovered the theater program and so did you.

You saw the clip and knew your phone would ring eventually. Or buzz rather. Coming home, he texts. Can you pick me up? Sure. What time? Knowing exactly what will happen. He'll say he won't be any trouble, that he'll book a room at the holiday inn and you'll tell him no and invite him to stay. Because you always do. Because home has turned on him for getting out. He's won an Oscar out in the world, but here? He's sneered at, deep well of contempt for those who strike out and fail and come home licking their wounds. Who does he think he is? Who do you think you are? Hurts less for you because you never tried to leave as much as you wanted to.

You should try out, you told him. If I'm trying out you should too, he told you. Little Shop of Horrors. He was gunning for Seymour so you learned Audrey, so you could practice the songs with him. I can't try out are you kidding me? You can, D told you, you sound...rested his hand on your upper arm the way someone might touch a live nuclear warhead. You sound good. We sound good together. You know that right? And inside you do. The way his voice weaves through yours, the way you can let go when it's just the two of you. His garage or your basement, singing over the piano track the music teacher made.

He's a mess. He looks about four days out from his last shower, his curls sticking up in greasy quills, his eyes are red-rimmed, from drugs or crying, you can't tell. This is how it is for him. He fucks up spectacularly and then he comes slinking home. No one cares here. No one gives a shit about his Oscar here. Just that no good Bravo boy limping home like a kicked dog. But you care. Dragging his carry-on along behind him, broad shoulders slumped, you feel that unwilling, unwitting spike of pity lodge in your chest.

They'd laughed. At the audition. When you and Dieter took your positions on stage, a bit of rough blocking you'd worked out between the two of you. Not loud braying laughter, snickers and titters of girls expecting a debacle and you feel your chest constrict and your eyes burn--

"Lift up your head Wash off your mascara Here, take my Kleenex, wipe that lipstick away Show me your face, clean as the morning I know things were bad, but now they're okay--"

But Dieter has you, grips your chin with finger and thumb just like you practiced, those big brown eyes terrified and deadly serious hold yours as he draws you to your feet. Audrey's lines pour out of you in a rush, the accompaniment a hair slower than the recording, I blew it, I blew the song and then you find the tempo, you find your voice and it rings out like it did all the times you and Dieter ran it together, belting it over the cast recording, rings out into the dark auditorium, the way you've heard it in your head this whole time, and you feel your skin prickle as Dieter's voices threads through yours like a grounding touch, and you finish together, singing into each other's faces.

The accompaniment stops and there's polite applause.

"You saw?" "Everybody saw--" "Fuck."

He smells like stale beer, fast food and no sleep. "You knew it wasn't gonna last with her right?" You keep your eyes on the road, but you can feel D bristle in the passenger's seat. "How do you mean?" "Come on, man, she's, like, half your age. Even if you hadn't cheated on her with Kate--" "Hey--" "You and her have nothing in common other than being trapped in that weird quarantine bubble," you say, "That's not love, that's fucking Stockholm syndrome." "You're probably right." "I'm always right. Haven't you figured that out by now?"

"This is some bullshit!" Dieter jabs a chipped black fingernail at the list of names tacked to the bulletin board outside the auditorium. "Your name is nowhere on that list. We sounded so good together! They--" "Dieter it's fine," you say. "They cast Emmy Lancaster as Audrey! What the fuck?" "Emmy's fine. She's got a nice voice." "Yeah, but she's not you! How'm I gonna do it if it's not you?" "D! Stop it!"You grab him by his upper arms and shake him a little, and those big brown eyes lock onto yours and he looks like he's drowning. "You've got this. I know you, dude, you're gonna be great." His eyes flick back and forth like he's searching for something. "Will you still run lines with me?" "Of course I will, you asshole."

"You hungry?" "Starving." "Mabels?" "Mabels."

"Oh, man, I forgot how good this is."

You and Dieter order the same thing as ever, garbage omelets with and order of biscuits and gravy split between you. D slathers his plate in hot sauce and you wrinkle your nose like you always do. And the question comes up as it always does. Can I stay with you? Just for a little bit-- and the answer is always yes, because D is a disaster but he's your disaster.

He's held your hair while you puked, you babied him when his girl dumped him right before senior prom. You ran lines together, even though you couldn't act with him. You don't have the right look for Audrey, they told you, but we do need a stage manager, and you threw yourself into it even though it hurt, because what where you expecting? And you had a knack for it, which surprised you and everyone else. The Audrey Two puppets were rented, but everything else had to be built and you found that you loved it, sketching out the sets, figuring out how to make the pieces light enough for you and the half-dozen other nerds you'd press-ganged into being stage crew to lift easily. We can do most of it with scrims, paint right on the fabric and then light it on from the back, or we could project the images right on them, like what Nine Inch Nails does. We can get with the AV club, see what they think.

"You can always stay with me, Dieter." You reach across the sticky table and wrap your hand around his forearm, "You know that right?" And there's a flicker across his face that says no, and it feels like a spike in your belly--

"Everyone's saying-- Christ. It's like everything I touch turns to shit."

"C'mon, that's crap and you know it, Hunger Strike--"

"That was different!" He surges forward and takes your hands in his, a bit of coffee sloshed between you, turned ears and cocked heads of the few patrons haunting Mabel's this time of night. "I had something there! It was like, something entirely outside of me--"

"Like catching lightning in a bottle?"

"Exactly like that!" And he smiles, brilliantly, the real one, not the cool little smirk reserved for the red carpet, for the press junkets, the smile that lights him up, the one you remember from way back when the lights came up and the orchestra played the main theme, the cast linked arm and arm, ready to take their bows and Dieter broke ranks, deviated from what you'd done in the previews, running the show for a cadre of bored teachers who'd rather be doing just about anything else, he sees you in the wings and catches your eye, waves you out two handed, a huge clownish gesture that requires a response, so you and the tech crew pour onto the stage, while the actors slide down to make room for you and you dip your outstretched hands to the orchestra and raise them again to the soundboard and spot operator the way you've seen every night this run and then everyone links arms and bows in a wave and suddenly Dieter's arms are locked around you, releases you and then turns to the crowd, raises your hand and his together, as the applause comes up.

"Do you know how that feels?" And you remember the way you and him sounded together, how Audrey poured out of your lungs like she had always been there-- "Yeah, D, I do," and his eyes flicking back and forth across your face still and hold yours, his hands warm in your grasp.

"Yeah," he says, and squeezes your fingers in his, "Yeah, I think you do." And you stay like that a beat, hands folded together across the sticky table, ancient cigarette smoke and old coffee and hand sanitizer. The waitress brings the check. One of Mabel's spray tanned granddaughters. You draw your hands away like you've been caught.

You've kissed Dieter exactly once, under the much-graffitied overpass, neon slurs and pentagrams and pigeon shit, both of you drunk on Wild Irish Rose, him smelling of weed and his mouth was warm, tentative against yours, and you'd laughed about it afterwards, circle-circle dot-dot now i've got my cootie shot, and you'd leaned together with your arms around each other, warm and solid against each other.

During tech week you'd pulled double duty, running lines with Dieter because outside of the auditorium Emmy Lancaster wouldn't even look at him, rolled her eyes all through rehearsal as if she was doing the world a favor by being there. She wanted nothing to do with him outside of scheduled rehearsals and Dieter was scared. The tech crew you'd rounded up was a different story all together, the lights are down and they can't see us so go nuts, so backstage you'd gone full goth, all black and dramatic makeup, and some of the others had followed suit, a little bit of rebellion behind the curtain where no one could look at you.

After one particularly grueling night, you and Dieter find yourselves side by side on the futon in your basement. Your bedroom proper is upstairs but your folks have let you build a nest down here so won't bother the rest of the house. They've mostly given up on you but that gives you some freedom.

"I don't know what I'm doing," he says, looking up at the crappy drop ceiling and glow in the dark stars that you've decorated it with. "Emmy hates my guts. She thinks I'm a creep. How'm I supposed to make this work?"

"Pretend she's me."

"What?"

"Pretend. She's. Me. You're good singing and running lines with me, so just imagine it's me and not Emmy fuckin Lancaster up there with you."

"Will that work?"

"Dude, I don't fuckin know, but you better figure it out quick. We open in a week."

The ride home is silent save for the scrape of windshield wipers, low, warm spit of rain, winding back roads and Dieter's fallen asleep, head turned away, slumped against the window, comes blearily awake at the sound of your tires on the gravel driveway.

"Hey, D, we're home." He stretches in the passenger's seat and yawns hugely.

"I can still get a hotel. I don't want to be a problem--"

"Too late. C'mon."

You fall asleep under fake plastic glowing stars and wake to find you and him wrapped together, his forehead pressed to yours, your arms tucked around his ribs, his hand folded over the curve of your hip, his breath warm against your face, and you're not sure how this makes you feel, because you've never been close with someone quite like this and you're not sure what might happen next, but at the same time this is Dieter and you've known each other for what feels like a million years and he looks so different asleep, face all slack like a little kid who's zonked out in the back on the car on some long road trip.

"I'll take the couch." "The fuck you will. I know the wire-work on Cliff Beasts 6 tweaked your back." "Was it that obvious?" "I could tell." "You can always tell."

"D. Hey, D." You try to squirm out of his grip without waking him, but you haveto resort to a good hard poke in the ribs. His eyes fly open and the two of you launch up and out of bed and away from each other like two magnets forced pole to pole.

"hoooomygod. Oh shit I'm so sorry, I didn't mean--" "Dude, it's okay, I didn't mean either-" "I was just so tired holy shit," his eyes are wide and his cheeks are fire engine red and you can feel the embarrassment and anxiety pouring off him like radiation. You start laughing. You can't help it. "What?" "You remember that scene from Planes, Trains & Automobiles?" Dieter brays laughter and the embarrassment flicks out like a candle flame.

You offer your hand and he takes it. You lead him upstairs. You need to get cleaned up. You smell like the floor of a taxi-cab, and Dieter laughs, a small one that just barely touches his eyes, his big be-ringed hand folded around yours, stroking your knuckles with the pad of his thumb, eyes down-turned.

"You always let me come back to you. No matter how bad I fuck up. You don't have to- you shouldn't--"

"Don't tell me what I should or shouldn't do Dieter Bravo. You can always come to me. Unless you become a serial killer. Which seems unlikely considering how squeamy blood makes you."

Dieter laughs, a real one this time, that dimples his scruffy cheek and crinkles his eyes closed, and he knows you're talking about the time in Mrs. Wilson's home economics class when Lola Stevens sliced her thumb opening a can of peaches to make cobbler and Dieter got one good look at the running blood and slithered bonelessly out of his chair, eyes rolled up to the whites.

He laughs and pulls you into a crushing hug, his arms banded around your back, pressing you into him and it catches you off guard and you stumble against him, sorry. I didn't mean, and you don't give him space to elaborate, tuck your face into his neck, wind your arms just as tight around his middle. He smells like skunk weed and whiskey sweat and fast food and exhaustion but also like home, like those fevered days leading up to opening night, like when your first serious boyfriend had dumped you, like when he'd held your hair while you puked in the weeds by the side of the road, walking back home from a kegger that he cops broke up, the two of you creeping into the basement, got you a big sweating plastic tumbler of water in the ugly yellow light from the range hood, his eyes big and dark and serious, afraid of waking the rest of the house, and laughter had come bubbling up silent giggles that he caught like the plague, did you see the way Greggie ran?-- shut up you're gonna get us caught--

"Christ I missed you." "Missed you too, D, but you really need to shower." "That bad, huh?" "Yeah, that bad."

With some coaxing Dieter sleeps beside you, curled away from your nightstand lamp. Can't ever sleep without reading a little first, a horror yarn you've read a half-dozen times, plucky hero and damsel in distress threaded through with Dieter's even breath. He looks oddly frail in the soft light, back hunched in and knees tucked up like he's cold. You kill the light and slide the book under your pillow. You already know how it ends.

You kill the light and tuck yourself against his broad back, slide your arm around and his hand finds yours, folds your fingers into his, tucked against his chest. He smells like your soap and your shampoo because his toothbrush and a hair-clotted razor were the only toiletries that made it into his tangle of luggage. Walmart, you think, need to go anyway. You feel him soften, relax into your embrace, his weight settling against you, press your lips to the back of his head before tucking your face into the warm join of his shoulder.

His voice, sleep heavy and slurred-"Did you just kiss me?"

"Circle-circle, dot-dot"

#year of kisses #year of themes 2023 #better late than never #dieter bravo x f!reader #dieter bravo best friend imagine #dieter bravo #pedro pascal

[thychesters]

Re, your post about sanji v absalom, i hope you dont mind a little rant, because I have a lot of feelings about this. Basically, post-timeskip sanji has become a huge frustration for me because it felt like his perviness has been dialed up by 1000 at the expense of not only the rest of his personality for the most part, but also in instances like this where someone he allegedly cares about has been violated and yet instead of really helping, he just makes the situation more unpalatable???? The fight with absalom became all about sanji and how pissed he was about absalom trying to marry Nami and that he has the invisible devil fruit, not about Nami and everything the asshole has been putting nami through. When we first met Sanji, he was still a perv, but it wasnt his like whole personality the way its become these days. It's just really disappointing, because I loved him when we first meet him and the perv stuff was annoying but i could at least roll my eyes and move on because its a stupid trope but at least it wasnt as bad as some manga Ive read, but now it's so much WORSE than most of the manga I've read and I dont like him much at all because of all this shit. He gets a little better in later arcs post-thriller bark, but it's unlikely I'll ever like him like I did before, and that makes me so sad.

one of my friends said he gets worse and and i'm just. beyond so disappointed about that. him being a little pervy was a quick gag in the beginning that was easy to roll your eyes at, if you addressed it all, because you knew there was never any intent behind it. he might faun over nami and robin, but again, they know there's no ill intent behind it. but hearing the perviness becomes his personaility is so disheartening. i want a sanji who cares about his friends and crew, not one who's overtly lecherous.

the fight with absalom really turned into being about him and his feelings when it never should have been that at all. his only feelings should have been anger -- anger over nami and what had been to her and what she'd been through.

frankly i'm really surprised and disappointed no one actually expressed any anger over that? after hearing usopp tell them nami had been spied on and attacked in the bath. (i get it's an action story with a few emotional beats, but you can talk about and show murder but not have someone go "that wasn't okay" about what absalom did?) that also gets me about usopp -- i mean yeah, i might be thrown for a second if i open the door and my friend is completely nude, but that's immediately going to be overshadowed by the fact that she's yelling for help and clearly being restrained. usopp, you can ignore the fact her boobs are out. do something to help her. (having her bathe before they were supposed to leave is also weird writing because they 100% could have been separated some other way.)

the same thing is played off for laughs later on -- sanji bursts in flame and oh man, he's so silly! gonna go save nami!

and when he first showed up in the church and was pissed i was like yes!! yes!! be angry for her and what she was made to endure. be pissed that your friend was spied on, assaulted, drugged, and stripped and forced into this situation. and instead of being pissed on her behalf it feels mostly like it's on his own. when he said absalom stole his dream my heart dropped into my stomach because was it something like dumb to marry nami (which absalom was forcing her into against her will?) or something creepier like he saw her naked when he didn't?

(not to ignore the scene in alabasta where she flashed them, but she was more in control in that situation and was able to make a choice. she was in control of her body! [sidebar, but cobra peeking over the wall was also fuckin weird because his daughter was there. she was also clearly less comfortable with what was happening too.])

nami is his crew mate and more so than anything his friend. she's his friend.

i hope nami's angry after all of this. i hope she stays angry. i hope the crew, her friends, are angry too over her treatment, over what happened to her. at least i will be.

#slothygirl #asks #i would get if it's never mentioned again because the story has to keep moving forward and it never really dwells in the past #but i'm still in favor of being angry on the behalf of your friend #adding this to the list of nami + body autonomy meta i want to one day write #this has the makings of a fic i don't want to write lmao #kate watches op #thriller bark

[brzatto]

i remember distinctly at some point i promised myself i would finish blue chicago moon before my birthday (lmfao) and now it is my birthday .. and unfortunately it’s been weeks since i’ve touched a google doc in general much less that fic but to celebrate i’m posting an excerpt from a later part in the fic i’ve had written out for a while now. enjoy ^_^

They’re laying in bed together, after, the way that’s become more casual as of late, more natural; they take turns taking drags from the same cigarette.

Carmy’s telling some story, “And then Pete—”

Richie interrupts him with an exaggerated scoff, rolling his eyes, and Carmy smacks him on the shoulder with the back of his hand. “I know, I know, stop it—but Pete’s not bad. Really. He can be cool, sometimes, like actually cool—”

Richie groans, rolling away from Carmy, except the bed’s too small for him to go anywhere, so he really just turns onto his other side—Carmy rolls after him, propping himself onto his elbows so he can wrestle Richie onto his back, stubbornly crossing his arms over Richie’s chest and leaning his weight onto him to keep him there; he reaches over to crush the rest of the cigarette into the ashtray. “I’m serious, Pete’s not that bad, and maybe if you’d actually give him a chance or opened up to him a bit more Sugar wouldn’t hate you as much—”

“Oh, so now it’s my fault that Sugar hates me? When have I ever given a shit about what she thinks?” Richie gripes, and Carmy rolls his eyes.

“She doesn’t actually, you know. You just have a tendency of being a complete and utter piece of shit—”

“What, is she still fuckin’ mad at me for that one time—”

“You mean when you said women shouldn’t run for office,” Carmy interrupts him flatly.

“That was a fucking joke! And it was, like, twelve years ago! I love women in office! I fuckin’ voted for Hillary in 2016—” he ignores when Carmy snorts in his face, incredulous, “—and maybe if she actually had a sense of humor sometimes she wouldn’t have ended up marrying that goddamn fucking narc. Has the personality of fuckin’ wet tissue paper. You know how many times he’s tried inviting me over for a fuckin’ family barbecue or some shit like that? Like I’m the one who actually needs an invitation. Probably just trying to trick me into making friendship bracelets with him while watching Paw Patrol or some other fuckin’ propaganda—”

Richie’s rant continues, and it’s so ridiculous that Carmy can’t help the genuine laughter that bubbles out of him at the mental image of it, ducking his face into his arms to hide his smile; except Richie’s caught on and started laughing, too, chest rumbling beneath Carmy’s weight, and it honestly surprises him, how at ease he feels. Naked under the covers, lying on top of Richie of all people, and he’s actually laughing.

Carmy doesn’t really use the word happy to describe how he feels because he thinks it’s too loaded, too precarious, too complex. He doesn’t want to say he’s happy because the notion is difficult for him to pinpoint, and even when he does it usually doesn’t last too long anyways—but he feels… light. All of his usual heaviness absent for once. He feels good.

When he brings his face back up he finds Richie already looking at him, focused on his face, the trace of a smile still present in the curve of his lips, and Carmy can’t tell what the emotion in his eyes is but it looks a little bit like—marvel. It’s the same way Marcus looks at the pages he’d printed out of Carmy’s cookbook, carefully and lovingly taped onto the wall of his station, the fascination of discovering something new, of resonating with it; and Carmy doesn’t know what to do with that.

But then Richie’s eyes fall a bit, fixing themselves on a specific part of his face—Richie’s hand comes up to cup it, nothing unusual by now, but Carmy’s overcome by the warmth he still feels in his chest at the touch, this simple intimacy. Richie’s palm is familiar and calloused around his cheek, and it makes Carmy want to lean into it.

“What’s this from?” Richie murmurs questioningly, running the pad of his thumb gently down the skin of his cheek, just below his right eye, and it takes a moment for Carmy to realize he’s talking about his scar. “Fall into a barbecue again?”

Carmy huffs, half amused. “No. No, uh… it’s stupid. Happened while I was drunk, years ago. Back in New York, when I first left.”

Richie raises his eyebrows at that. “What, you actually got into a fuckin’ fight? I mean, sounds dope, but having a sick ass battle scar on your face isn’t really in character for you, no offense.”

Carmy rolls his eyes. “No, it wasn’t a fight—I… was drinking, and it was kind of just something I did, in the very beginning, I guess. In my downtime, by myself in my apartment because it wasn’t like I had any friends or anything better to do, and it was just supposed to be a way to keep myself occupied. Get me to fall asleep faster, if anything, so I wouldn’t fucking lie awake in bed all night thinking about shit. Except that time it backfired on me, because I got—” Carmy breathes out through his nose, an almost amused, self-deprecating laugh, “So drunk, and all I could think about was—Mikey.

“And I was just so fucking upset. I felt hurt, you know. Had been hurt for the whole past year, and I’d deleted Mikey’s number off my phone months ago so I wouldn’t do anything monumentally fucking stupid like call him while I was drunk or something. And I think I was just… fed up, at that point. I was so fuckin’ angry, at Mikey, at myself, at everyone that I just… kind of had this meltdown. Nearly trashed my whole fuckin’ apartment. Was breaking shit, throwing shit around, and when it was over I found myself in my bathroom, staring at myself in the mirror for the longest time. And I hated what I saw, because it didn’t feel like me. I never felt like myself back then. Didn’t know who I was supposed to be without Mikey and Sugar and everybody else around, and I hated that about me.

“And eventually all I could think about was—” Carmy cuts himself off, thinking about the words. How to say them. “How much I needed… a change. How much I wanted to. But I think I took that a little too literally, or maybe I just wasn’t fucking thinking at all, because I just… slammed my face into the mirror, as hard as I could. Like I was in a fuckin’ movie or something, you know. And there was all this fuckin’ glass, blood everywhere, my face totally fucked, all that shit. It was a mess. I could barely fucking see.”

Richie watches him recount the story with quiet intensity, and even though Carmy doesn’t look back at him he can feel Richie’s eyes on his face, gaze intent. But it doesn’t make him feel uncomfortable, or awkward, or exposed, the way having someone’s undivided attention usually makes him feel. In the moment, he simply just feels listened to. Richie’s watching him, but Carmy doesn’t feel watched; just seen.

“So what happened after? Just bled out all over your fuckin’ floor?”

Carmy huffs. “No, I, uh… had to take myself to the hospital. It was, like, three in the morning. Got four stitches out of it, and still showed up to work the next day.”

He’s expecting Richie to make fun of him, honestly. And why wouldn’t he? He thinks it might just be because of the good mood he’s in, but Carmy’s surprised to find that he doesn’t feel any residual bitterness recalling the memory. Thinks if he were anybody else he’d laugh at himself, too.

Richie doesn’t make fun of him, though. “That might actually be the most hardcore shit you’ve ever told me.” Richie sniffs. “Almost as hardcore as walking off a stab wound, anyways. You’re getting there.”

Carmy actually laughs, the memory of it amusing now that it’s all behind him. It seems fucking ridiculous, looking back on it now. It’s only been a few months, but it feels like a lifetime ago; when he tries to think about it now, he feels like a spectator of his own life, watching the events unfold from someone else's perspective, or like standing from the outside and looking in. He gets that feeling a lot, Carmy thinks.

“You know, I never actually asked you about that. Were you good? Like, was the wound deep, or…”

“Gee, thanks for the concern. Not like it happened, like, six fuckin’ months ago. Glad to know I mean so much to you.”

“Shut up and just tell me. And you probably really did fucking deserve it.”

Richie scoffs. “Couldn’t fucking tell you. Hurt like a goddamn bitch when it happened, though. Got Ebra to patch me up. Couldn’t sit right for a couple weeks, but it was whatever.” He sniffs. “At least it was somewhere people don’t see it. Not sure if that’ll make for a cool scar story in the future.”

“What, like mine was?”

“Nah, yours is just depressing. Do me a favor—next time somebody asks, just tell them you got it in a bar fight like a normal person.” Richie says, and then after a pause, “That why you don’t drink?”

It’s this question that finally makes Carmy feel embarrassed for some reason, glancing up at the ceiling. “Something like that.”

“Damn. And I thought Mikey was the one who was fucked up.”

Carmy laughs a little again, in spite of everything, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, well. Guess it runs through the fuckin’ family.”

“They call you guys the Bears for a reason,” Richie says simply. But he still has his hand on Carmy’s face, running his thumb over his scar absentmindedly, like trying to soothe away pain that hasn’t been there for years. It’s a subtle sort of intimacy, quiet and tender. It’s Richie’s touch and not the recollection that makes Carmy’s chest prickle, and he wonders briefly if this is something he ever did with Mikey: lying in the dark, listening to each others’ stories, touching without thinking about it.

He wonders if this is how Richie treats those he cares the most about, or maybe if he’s just gotten close enough to be able to experience this side of him. If this is what it’s like to be Richie’s best friend, to trust someone wholeheartedly, sharing moments that are quiet and intimate and vulnerable.

“Alright,” Richie continues, making Carmy glance up. “Your turn.”

Carmy looks at him quizzically. “My turn for what?”

“Ask me something. Nothing off limits, everything on the table. You shared something about yourself so it’s only natural for me to do the same.”

Carmy frowns a little at this, if only because the notion is strange to him. It’s not like he’s never been open and honest with Richie before—in fact, those moments have been occurring more often than he’d honestly like to admit—but it feels different, this way. To be given the opportunity, no holds barred, because usually Carmy refrains from ever prying too deep; not just with Richie, but with everybody.

He rolls off Richie’s chest back onto the bed, lying on his side with his head propped in his hand as he considers. Richie is surprisingly patient for once, offering him the silence to think, and the whole thing honestly just makes Carmy flustered.

“Is there…” Carmy starts uncertainly, hesitating, but continues when Richie turns to him, expectant. “Is there a reason why you keep your ring?”

Richie stares at him for a moment, uncomprehending, before glancing down at the golden wedding band on his finger, like he’d forgotten that it was there, like he didn’t even know he was wearing it. Then his expression twists, incredulous, like he can’t believe that out of all the things Carmy could’ve possibly asked him about it’s his goddamn wedding ring.

“Why, does it make you jealous or something?” Richie teases him. “Does it make you feel like you’re my mistress?”

Carmy’s face turns hot, but he tells himself it’s out of annoyance rather than embarrassment. “You know what? Forget I asked.”

Richie chuckles, running his knuckles over Carmy’s side placatingly. “Nah, nah, I’m kidding. Uh… if I’m being honest, it’s, like, a distraction. Something for me to worry with. I stopped wearing it after me and Tiff split, but I started wearing it again after Mikey. I dunno. I guess after he died it felt like… nothing was right. Just everything gone to complete shit, and the ring just felt familiar. Like, having it there reminded me of this time in my life where I kind of, sort of had things together, and I guess I just wanted to feel that way again somehow, even if in reality it’s the complete fuckin’ opposite.”

Carmy nods slowly. In a sense, he thinks he gets it. Clinging onto that sense of familiarity; needing the illusion of stability in his life. He understands him.

#this is also to celebrate the blue moon on the 30th!!! that felt way too coincidental :/ #btw sorry if the formatting makes it hard to read i wanted to condense it since it is a bit of a longer excerpt #some of my personal hcs coming to light here… i wrote this way wayyy before s2 came out and it’s still subject to some inevitable tweaking #as i continue to write and edit and piece things together. but this was inspired by a jaw interview where he talks about the scar on his #face. i just thought it was so in character for carmy so i toyed with the idea a little bit to make it fit into his life #this also happens much muuuch later in the fic… i’d post something closer to where i left off in ch2 but as of right now! #it is not written. <3 #anyways i hope at least someone can enjoy this.. thanks for all of your patience mwah #my txt #carmy x richie #carmrich

[the-cult-of-russo]

Just Beneath The Flames (Part 16)

Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader

Warnings: cursing, smut at some point probably lmao, zombie shit, typical canon violence. You know the drill.

A/N: Alright guys, this is the last chapter. 

I’ll admit that I wasn’t planning on ending this story so soon and I feel pretty guilty, especially ending it without much warning. I know I’ll feel worse if I just leave it unfinished though. I’ve already got so many unfinished multi chapter fics that I haven’t gotten to finishing and people are always asking for updates. I know this way, I’ve at least wrapped it up a little so it’s not too bad. There’s always potential for me to come back to this story and add to it if I feel like it or if anyone had any ideas they wanted to throw at me to add in here. 

I’m feeling a little burnt out with it if I’m honest. This story has been so fun to write and I’ve loved seeing so many of you love reading it, but for some reason, now my brain is having a really hard time with it. I have other stories I’ve started that have been itching at me so I figured it was best if I finish it off instead of forcing myself to continue and churn out shitty content. 

The point of this rambling is to say that while this may be the ‘last’ chapter, I may go back to it at some point and do more so it’s not like 100% finished. And as I said, I’m welcome to ideas for it. 

—-----------------

Day Fourteen

Your hand came up to stifle a yawn and you blinked tiredly as you walked beside Billy.

“If we go this way, we can get to the highway. It's worth a look,” he mused, looking over the map in his hands before he glanced over to you.

“Sounds good to me,” you smiled tiredly, rubbing your eyes a little. His concerned gaze swept over your face before he folded up the map, shoving it into his jacket pocket and wrapping an arm around your shoulder. Billy had decided to head to the highway instead of the original route planned, hopefully to find a car. You’d made it into Virginia now but it was a big place and you were still a while away. On foot, the journey would take you another few days but if you managed to find a car, you could cut it to just a few hours instead. You were pretty sure he’d decided on the new plan after seeing you shuffle around like one of the dead. It had only been two days since you left the cabin but traveling from sun up to sun down was really taking it out of you. You longed for the respite and safety of the tiny cabin. You missed sleeping beside him like that instead of the shifts taking watch like you had to do now, neither of you getting a full night sleep. It took almost an hour to get to the highway and it was very reminiscent of the one back by the old cabin. This one was smaller though and was slightly less jam-packed, a few of the dead stumbling around the derelict cars as they groaned.

“I've got them, you try the cars,” you murmured, giving Billy a wry smile before you headed off over to the roamers. You made quick work of them before you came back over to where Billy was trying to hotwire a car. If last time was anything to go by, you’d probably turn up with nothing. The cars weren't exactly in the best condition with the state they’d been left in and you had no idea if any of them still had gas left. You stood guard as Billy tried car after car, your knife poised and ready as you took care of any threats that came ambling your way so he could focus. The sound of an engine starting made your head whirl over to him as he sat up, climbing out of the car with a delighted laugh.

“Fuckin’ told you I’d do it,” he smirked as you walked over.

“Mhm, didn’t doubt you for a second,” you replied impishly and he snorted, leaning in to press a sweet kiss to your lips. It was something you were still trying to get used to yet it also felt like you’d done it a million times before. 

“Come on,” he smiled down at you, pulling you over to the car. You slid into the passenger seat, your tired feet glad for the rest as he got into the driver’s side.

Your whole journey had been leading up to this moment, to finally see what awaited you at the safe house. You’d known what was at stake the entire time yet it felt far more real now as Billy drove there. You had no idea what you’d find. Maybe there wouldn't be anyone there at all or maybe the only person there was the person whose safe house it was. Or maybe some of the group would be there, others not making it. What if something happened to Sarah and the baby? What if something happened to the kids? The spike of anxiety hit you like a truck as you glared out of the window, trying to control your breathing. You weren’t even aware your leg was bobbing up and down restlessly until Billy’s hand reached over and stilled it. When you turned to him, he shot you a reassuring smile but you could see his own anxiety shining behind his dark eyes. Everything you were feeling, you knew he must be feeling tenfold. You’d grown to care for these people like family, but they were Billy’s family way before they were yours. You mustered your best smile for him, not wanting him to fuss over you when he must be feeling so much worse than you. The smile seemed to work as he seemed a little more relaxed before he turned back to the road. 

“Hope they’ve got dinner goin’, I’m fuckin’ hungry,” he remarked ruefully and you knew he was trying to keep things light. Not wanting to touch on all the other scenarios that could happen when you got there.

“I did offer you some soup this morning,” you shrugged, giving him an amused look.

“Yeah, yeah,” he huffed playfully. You weren’t stupid though. He hadn’t eaten this morning and you knew he was anxious about all of this. You’d barely been able to eat yourself but you’d forced some soup down you because you knew you needed the energy. 

“Why don’t you get some sleep?” he asked, giving you a soft look and you shook your head.

“Nah, I’m good,” you answered with a smile. You weren’t tired enough to sleep with your thoughts running so rampant and you didn’t want to leave Billy in silence on the drive there for a few hours. You knew nothing good would come of it. You tried to keep the drive light with conversion to keep both of your minds from wandering. You spoke about anything and everything. From stories from your time as a vet, to family stories that were more fun and lighthearted. Billy seemed content to listen and reply rather than tell any of his own tales but you had a feeling that most of his good memories were linked to the people you were trying to find so you didn’t mind him just listening to you. It was easy to talk to him and time seemed to fly by as he drove and before long, he was pulling down a dirt road through some trees. 

“Should be at the end of this road,” he mused softly and you nodded, your whole body tightening in anticipation. 

“Oh my god,” you murmured, sitting forward in your seat a little as your eyes widened. Billy seemed to be rendered speechless, not a smart-ass remark in sight. He pulled to a stop a little away as you both just gaped at what you could see.

The whole place was encompassed with large stone walls that were as tall as a house, barbed wire lining the top. There was a huge metal gate and what looked to be an intercom next to it. You couldn't see the building behind the walls but it looked more like a fortress than a safe house. It was way bigger than you thought it would be and at each corner of the walls, there were perch-like towers that would be perfect to take watch from or shoot if needed. You weren’t sure if the person who had this built was paranoid or maybe they had some inside knowledge of what was going to happen, but it sure as fuck seemed like it was perfect for a zombie apocalyspe. There even seemed to be what looked like wind turbines on either side. You both sat there for a moment as you looked at it before you both slipped out of the car. Billy walked around to you as you both slowly made your way up the dirt road, stopping a few feet away. You felt anxiety gnawing at you now it was go time and when you glanced over at Billy, his eyes were wide as they darted around. You didn’t want to push the intercom, knowing he needed to be the one to do it, he had to be ready.

“Guess it’s now or never, huh?” he asked, trying to smirk but it fell flat as his voice shook. You reached out and took his hand gently and he looked at you then, his face softening. “No matter what happens, I’m here,” you murmured soothingly. He blinked at you, a small smile toying on his lips as he gave your hand a squeeze. He looked back at the large metal gate then, taking a large shaky breath and rolling his shoulder. Once he’d steeled himself, he nodded, letting go of your hand as he made his way over to the intercom and pressed it, you hot on his heels.

“Anyone here?” he asked carefully but he was only met with silence.

“Frankie… if you’re in there, it’s Billy. I’m with Y/N… We… We made it,” he added, a desperate edge to his voice that had your stomach twisting in knots. Loud buzzing suddenly hit your ears and Billy stepped back quickly, grabbing your wrist and pulling you with him before he pushed you behind him slightly as if to protect you. The large metal gate started to open but before you had a chance to even try and observe the building or what was going on inside, Frank came barreling out and grabbed Billy so tight, he almost knocked him right off his feet. They clutched each other and you felt your eyes prick with tears, a smile on your face that had your cheeks hurting. Frank was muttering something but you couldn't make it out through his tears as they both cried. You were so wrapped up in the emotion of their moment, you didn’t even notice Karen until she was inches away from you and you were then engulfed in a tight hug.

“Oh my god, you made it,” she breathed, squeezing you hard as you hugged her back and allowed your tears to fall. The relief you felt was palpable. She moved away, a bright smile on her tearful face as she wiped her eyes. She turned to look at Billy then as he and Frank finally separated and she rushed over to him, grabbing him in a hug.

“Bring it in, Y/N,” Frank smiled widely as he approached you with his arms open wide. You hugged him and his arms came around you. It was the tightest hug the man had given you yet and you could feel him shaking as he held you.

“I’m so glad you made it. We all thought… After you walkied Bill and you were hurt…” he trailed off, holding you tighter for a moment before he let you go.

“It’s okay, Frank,” you murmured as you wiped your eyes with your sleeves. You were just relieved to see them.

“Everyone else… Are they…?” Billy asked, damp eyes darting from Karen to Frank.

“They’re okay, we all made it out,” Frank answered quickly, as if to ease his worries. You physically saw the stress leave Billy’s body as his shoulder sagged in relief, his lower lip trembling as he smiled and nodded.

“Bill… I didn’t mean to leave you back there, I-” Frank started, a deep frown on his face but Billy shook his head.

“It’s alright, Frankie,” Billy cut him off.

“No, It’s not,” Frank argued and Karen carefully rested a hand on Frank’s arm and made him look at her.

“Honey, they’d been through a lot, okay? Let them come in, see the others. You can explain after,” she suggested carefully. Frank looked from her to Billy, nodding reluctantly but he looked like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. 

“Come on, you guys should see this place. It’s pretty amazing,” Karen smiled at you and Billy. When you looked over at Billy, he gave you such a genuine smile it made your chest ache and he took your hand, lacing his fingers with yours as Karen and Frank led you inside the gate.

You really couldn’t get over this place. The building itself was made from the same stone as the walls and looked to be two stories high. It was much bigger than you thought it would be but there was outside space all around it too. To the left there were rows and rows of crop plots, some of them already having things growing in them. You were startled to hear the sound of clucking and when you looked over behind the crop plots, you noticed a hen house. There were large solar panels off to the right of the building in a line along the walls as well as the turbines you’d seen from outside. When you stepped inside the building, your eyes swept around. It was a lot more homely than you’d expected inside with a large wooden staircase to the back of the building. There was a large living area with a fire and a huge kitchen off to the left with an island. It all looked modern and high tech. There were a few doors and Karen informed you one was to a basement that was stocked full of food, with Frank happily telling Billy it was also full of weapons and ammo too. Karen explained there were a bunch of bedrooms upstairs and a couple of working bathrooms. The place had working water and even its own sewer system. It was like the cabin but better. It was overwhelming being reunited with everyone and not one person had a dry eye as they all hugged you and Billy. It became clear after seeing everyone that while everyone seemed to think Billy would turn up one day, everyone had thought you were dead, not that you could blame them. You were just relieved they were all here and okay, you could hardly believe it. Before long, Frank and Karen had taken you and Billy over to the large dining table near the kitchen. You and Billy sat at one side, Frank and Karen at the other and Billy grabbed your hand, pulling it onto his lap as he held it tightly.

“I’m sorry,” Frank said firmly, giving Billy a pointed look.

“Frank-” Billy started with a frown but Frank held his hand up.

“I shouldn’t have left you behind, man,” he lamented, shaking his head.

“You didn’t leave me behind. You kept tellin’ me to fall back and I didn’t listen. That ain’t on you,” Billy argued.

“Everything was just… hectic. We got out but… but Matt and Karen were shot,” Frank explained. Your eyes snapped to Karen then who smiled ruefully and you felt Billy’s hand tighten around your own.

“I'm part of the cool kids club now,” she remarked wryly and Frank gave her a look.

“Micro was driving the truck, Sarah and the kids up front. Me, Curt and Foggy were in the bed, tryin’ to help Karen and Matt. Micro thought you were there too and he just took off, tryin’ to get us safe. Before I knew what happened, we were already halfway to Virginia,” Frank muttered, guilt coating his tone. 

“He almost murdered Micro when he found out, Curtis had to drag him off him,” Karen murmured.

“I just… I didn’t know what to do. We were already so far out and we needed to get Karen and Matt somewhere safe, to patch ‘em up better. So we came out here,” Frank frowned deeply.

“It was the right call,” Billy insisted.

“Once I knew Karen was okay, I wanted to head out and find you, but Karen told me to stay put,” Frank admitted, shaking his head.

“I knew you’d find us here. If felt pointless him going out there, you’d just be missing each other,” she explained softly as she looked at Billy.

“It’s a good job you didn’t come back for me. Who knows what woulda happened, I might not have found Y/N and we’d all still be thinkin’ she was dead and she’d be out there all alone,” Billy muttered gravely and the thought stabbed you right in the chest. You didn’t want to think about the what ifs because they were pointless and the other reality was honestly terrifying. You weren’t sure what you would have done if you hadn’t found Billy that day.

“See, it all worked out in the end,” Karen smiled, giving Frank a meaningful look. She looked like she’d had this conversation already with him, trying to ease the guilt he felt at leaving Billy behind. He was a lot like Billy in that way, carrying heaps of guilt he shouldn't be feeling.

“I guess it did,” Frank murmured, finally smiling as he looked between you and Billy. There was a look in his eyes that told you he’d already picked up in the shift with the pair of you but luckily he didn’t press it. You were just happy to be with everyone, happy they were safe and here. 

You wound up having dinner with everyone, you and Billy glued to each other’s sides as the kids wanted to know exactly how the ‘epic journey’ for you and Billy had gone and he regaled them with the tale as if it was from a storybook. While you'd tried to stay positive, mostly for Billy’s sake, you really had thought you’d have some bad news coming here and you couldn’t believe your luck to find none here. You’d finally caught a break and it was a fucking big one. You felt emotionally drained after the whole thing and by the time Billy was leading you up to a room he’d picked out for the both of you, you felt ready to sleep for a week. 

“This is a pretty nice set up,” Billy mused as you walked into the bedroom. It was a decent size with a double bed, chest of drawers and wardrobe. 

“I know. This place is amazing, I really feel like we have a chance at a normal life here,” you replied as you looked around and put the spare clothes on the bed that Karen had given to you and Billy. Billy pulled you over to him and you smiled up at him before he kissed you. When he pulled away, he kissed the tip of your nose.

“You okay?” you asked him as you ran your hands up his chest.

“Yeah. This whole thing’s just taken it out of me, can’t wait to get some rest,” he grinned ruefully.

“I feel that,” you snorted. A big part of you wanted to make the most of the working showers you had here but with the day you’d both had, you wound up changing into pajamas, the notion feeling wildly absurd, before you both slipped into bed. You both lay facing each other, your hand on his chest with your legs tangled with each other’s and his arm was around you, fingers drawing circles on your lower back.

“Thank you,” he murmured tiredly.

“For what?” you asked softly. He gave you a soft smile that made your heart feel like it skipped a few beats and you really couldn't believe how lucky you were.

“For bein’ you,” he answered simply, eyes crinkling a little and you snorted with a roll of your eyes.

“I mean it. You’re one of the most amazin’ people I’ve ever met. You’ve been my rock through all this shit. I don’t know how I woulda got through this without you,” he admitted earnestly and it made you smile.

“You’re pretty amazing too, Mr Russo,” you replied sleepily, leaning over to place a kiss to his lips. 

“I love you,” he murmured against your lips, his hand moving to stroke your face.

“I love you too,” you answered easily, unable to help the smile on your face.

Eight Months Later

“Y/N, look!” Zach beamed as he ran over to where you were grabbing some potatoes and putting them into a basket. Karen had requested them for the dinner she was making.

“That’s awesome, Zach. How many did you get?” you asked with a smile, seeing him with his own basket full of eggs. 

“Five. That’ll be enough, right?” he asked, eyes bright as he shifted on his feet.

“I’m sure that’s more than enough. You should go and give them to Karen,” you grinned at him, watching as he practically skipped off to the house. He loved those chickens more than anything and he’d taken the role of being the one to look after them and get the eggs when they laid. He seemed to enjoy having a job to do. You stood up, dusting off your jeans and jumped when you felt two hands grab your hips.

“Well, if it ain’t farmer Y/N,” Billy smirked into your ear, making you snort before you turned around. Your eyes dipped to the baby strapped to his chest, a wry smile tugging at your lips.

“You on baby duty?” you asked looking amused and he shrugged, a hand coming to cradle the baby’s small head.

“Figured Sarah and Micro could use the break,” he answered with a smile. Micro had been adamant on naming the baby William after Billy and you were sure it had something to do with how guilty he felt over being the one to leave Billy behind all those months ago. Nevertheless, Billy was stupidly smug about the whole thing. Delivering William had been terrifying but the safe house had a bunch of medical equipment. Curtis had taken the lead with you assisting, and thankfully, the birth had gone without any issues and both mother and baby had been perfectly fine. 

“Anyone would think you're trying to steal him with how much time you spend with him,” you snorted softly, giving him an impish look. Sarah loved to joke about how Billy was trying to steal the baby away, to turn him into a mini Russo. You’d never expected Billy to be a baby person but he absolutely loved spending time with the little boy. 

“Don’t listen to her, buddy. Aunt Y/N’s just mean to me,” he pouted playfully and you grinned as you shook your head, grabbing the basket with potatoes and carrots in. 

“What time do you wanna head out?” you asked as he walked with you back to the house.

“Maybe like an hour?” Billy suggested, his hand darting out and lacing with your free hand.

“Sounds good to me,” you smiled. He used the hold on your hand to tug you to him but to the side a little so you didn’t squash the baby, kissing you softly. You parted ways when you got inside as you went to give Karen the goods before you got ready. You and Billy made a habit of going out hunting every few days even though you really didn’t need to right now. You had a lot of food in the basement but you both didn’t like feeling cooped up and it was nice to get out just the both of you. Billy liked to call them dates. Life here was surprisingly easy and it all worked like a well-oiled machine. You never thought in your wildest dreams you’d have some place like this during the end of the world but you were glad you found it. You thought back to all that time ago, when you were starving and desperate and came across Frank and Billy’s camp. It had all started with that group of assholes who had slit your throat and left you for dead. It was strange how things worked out, how it rippled like that. If that had never happened to you, you’d never have been scared to go to the stores to get food, you’d never have been desperate enough to try and rob Billy’s camp. You’d never have met your new family and never have met Billy. The scar that had once been a reminder of something awful and traumatic was a symbol of hope for you now. It was the beginning of your new life, the one you’d made with Billy. Every shitty thing you’d ever been through had led you to this moment and while you were sad your brother wasn’t here with you to enjoy a place like this, you knew that wherever he was, he’d be looking down at you happy that you finally found some peace. For once you were forced to finally realize that good things can last in this new world. 

Taglist: (if you’ve been asked to be tagged and aren’t here, it wouldn’t let me tag some people.)

@firexfate

@blanchedelioncourt

@on-ya

@sunshinedaisies-anddeath

@snowkestrel

@music-indie-tv

@idaofinfinity

@sweetserendipity65

@ramadiiiisme

@k-marzolf

@celestialams

@woowwwee

@noortsshift

@rainbowgoblinfan

@mysweetlittledesire

#billy russo imagine #billy russo fanfic #billy russo x reader #billy russo

[write-r-die]

Man's World - Part 6

I finally figured out what I want to do with this story! Get ready for a real plot to form!

masterlist

It was the middle of the night for us when the flare happened.

People who were outside at the time were the ones who died right away or got an aggressive case of sun sickness. People indoors got slightly less, people on the lower floors of buildings got less, etc. 

I was in my parents’ basement when the flare happened. The accompanying earthquakes jammed the door to the stairs shut. It was a few hours before I finally made it out. 

In the end it was sheer dumb luck that I survived, that I didn’t get sick. 

Evolution, survival of the fittest – that didn’t factor into it at all when the world ended. Just your location.

I’m sure down the road I’ll have some sort of horrific health problems, that everybody will because you don’t encounter that much radiation without some of it infecting you. But I’m still alive and healthy for now. 

I don’t know about the rest of the world, though. Nobody does, since all the technology was simultaneously fried and there’s no real way to get across an ocean anymore. 

Usually I try not to think about it, but the soldiers accompanying us are talking about their travels while in the military. Two of them were stationed in Japan for a while; a third was stationed in South Korea. It was the middle of a sunny day in those countries when the flare hit.

One of the men from Japan shakes his head, smiling sadly. “I’ll never have sushi like that again,” he says mournfully.

The other frowns. “It’s a fuckin’ shame.”

We’re mostly on bikes or horses. A pickup truck accompanies us to carry back anything of value we find, but August tries to minimize car usage whenever possible, so we have a single truck with us to lug back whatever valuables we find. 

We all pull off to the side when we reach the neighborhood. A bunch of identical little houses on cul-de-sacs that were once full of yuppie commuters. Now it’s empty.

“Each of you will have one guard,” August says to the six of Miss Ally’s people. “You will not leave their side. You will wait for them to clear each and every room before you enter it.” He pairs them up and sends them all in different directions, telling them to return to this exact spot in two hours.

They all head off. Only August and I are left.

“I don’t have a guard,” I say once everyone is out of earshot.

August gives me a shit-eating grin. He’s my guard. Of course. He motions me toward a one-story home with a detached garage. “Come along. We’ve got things to do.”

The first house we enter has no front door. The windows have all been blown out, but the treadmill and stationary bike in the living room appear to be going strong.

August picks up a discarded magazine from the floor. “Health nuts,” he says sadly. “Not known for having full pantries.”

“You’d be surprised,” I say.

He cocks a dark eyebrow. “Oh?” He gestures toward the kitchen. “In that case, take the lead. I insist.”

Health nuts can be similar to squirrels in terms of stashing food for a rainy day. We don’t bother opening the freezer or fridge because whatever was in there was either eaten by now or has turned it into a mold jungle.

August and I work in silence, scouring the kitchen for anything that might be of use. August immediately finds a bottle of wine, which he looks over, then seems to contemplate deeply. He puts it in his pack and I have a feeling he’ll be adding it to his private collection.

I pause in the middle of ransacking a drawer full of oatmeal packets. “You really couldn’t wait until I was out of the tent to fuck somebody else?”

August doesn’t miss a beat. “I could and I did. Andie came in unannounced and uninvited,” he says, pulling out a plastic jar of protein powder. “You woke up before things got too interesting.”

I square my shoulders and return to sorting. “I take it that sort of thing happens a lot.”

“Often enough.” He shuts the cupboard and sticks the powder into his backpack. “Find anything?”

“Oatmeal packets mostly. And this.” I hold up the plastic jar of trail mix. “It’s mostly empty but –”

“We’ll bring it. We need everything.”

His choice of words gives me pause. Need, he said. But I’ve seen the supply trucks myself and we seem to have plenty of almost everything. Nobody in the camp goes hungry or lacks in basic necessities, at least not as far as I know. But I’m also not part of the inner circle. 

The pantry upstairs boasts two value-sized bottles of shampoo and three bars of soap, plus about a thousand toothbrushes still in their packaging. “Jackpot.”

“I’m checking the bathroom. Start on the bedrooms when you’re done.” 

My bag is brimming with floss picks and antiperspirant. 

The nearest bedroom once belonged to a woman. I can tell by all the expensive - and now very expired - perfume and makeup.

“Do we need clothes?” I call over my shoulder. 

“Underwear and socks,” August calls back. 

 I head for the dresser. I don’t love the idea of wearing someone else’s panties even if their clean but I guess beggars can’t be choosers. 

There are plenty of socks, so I grab a bunch of those. As I reach back to access the underwear, my hand brushes against something else. 

I grab it and pull it out and see a familiar book cover. I used to have a copy on my Kindle, not a well-worn paperback like this. But it’s the same story. I want to squeal with delight. Of course that’s when August comes in. 

“Find anything good?” he asks, leaning a shoulder against the door jamb. 

I reflexively hide the book behind my back which is of course a dead giveaway. 

He raises a dark brow, a smirk growing on his incredible lips. “What’s that?” 

I don’t reply. I know he won’t believe anything I say until he sees it for himself. 

He crosses the room to stand in front of me and holds his hand. Reluctantly, I give the book over. He watches my face, reveling in the embarrassment for a moment before looking at the book in his hand. 

Slowly, his smirk widens. He flips to a dog eared page and begins to read and I want to die. 

“He gripped her wrists in one of his hands, pinning them against the wall above her head. With his other hand, he cupped her sex over her dress and squeezed – not enough for it to be painful, but enough to make it clear that he was in charge, and this would go exactly the way he wanted it.”

I hate him. I hate the way he reads it in that deep sexy voice and I hate the way he smirks up at me and the fact that it’s getting me going and I hate him. 

He’s smirking again when he looks up at me. “Is this the sort of thing you’d like?”

“It’s just a smutty book.” I try to sound dismissive. 

He turns back to the book. “Her pussy throbbed under his touch —“

“Jesus Christ, stop that!” I snatch the book out of his hands and I’m way too turned on just by the fact that he said pussy and he’s still smiling and I hate him. “You’re acting like a teenager, trying to embarrass me.”

“I’m not trying to embarrass you,” he says. “I’m trying to turn you on.” He takes a step toward me; I take a step back. “Get you wet.” Another step and I’m pressed against the dresser as he looms over me. “I have a feeling it’s working.”

I hate him. 

And then he’s leaning in slowly, lowering his head as I turn mine up. 

And his mouth is on my mouth, his fingers digging into my hips and I can’t breathe around the lump in my throat, the ache between my legs, that God-awful feeling in my gut that I will regret this.

But it doesn’t matter right now. Because right now all I can think about is the man pressed against me, the way his fingers are tugging at my hair enough to cause the slightest bit of pain that somehow makes me want him more. 

My right mind isn’t in control – I know that – this sort of aching need is primal and weird and frankly a little scary because I’ve never felt this out of control before. 

And then a shout comes from outside. “Boss!”

August pulls back enough to shout, “What?” My mouth is slightly open because I can’t get enough air through just my nose and all the while, August’s eyes are on that mouth, and I know he’s imagining everything that he could do to it and that it could do to him. 

“We found some people in one of the houses. They’ve got Draven’s mark.”

That snaps us both out of our lusty haze. 

Michael Draven is one of the six most powerful warlords roaming the continent. Besides August, he’s probably the scariest. Maybe even scarier, since August at least takes people in and protects them. From what I know, Draven only takes warriors and prostitutes into his group, and they’re not necessarily warriors and prostitutes by choice. 

August’s soldiers have rounded up a man and a woman – a boy and a woman, more accurately. The woman is around my age but seems much older, and she glares at us hatefully enough to make me shudder.

They each have a tattoo on their forearms that identify them as Draven’s people. Some of August’s people have similar tattoos to identify them, but not all. Bearing any warlord’s mark is a gamble because people are about as likely to attack you for your allegiances as they are to show consideration for it.

“We’re not his people anymore,” the boy says. “I cut the mark. See?” He points to a few still-healing cuts slashing through the crow tattoo that marks him as one of Draven’s. It’s how his followers got the nickname crows. The girl’s mark is pristine.

August takes the man’s wrist in his hand and angles his forearm to get a better look at it. The man winces at his touch.

August drops his wrist. “And why are you no longer his people?”

“He . . . wasn’t a good guy,” the boy says slowly.

“Warlords aren’t known for being good guys,” Miss Evaline – one of Miss Ally’s people on this outing – says. “Except for the Boss.” She sounds more than a little condescending. 

“I’m certainly not a good guy,” August says dismissively. He really isn’t and him saying so really shouldn't be hot but I still clench my thighs together. 

After weeks of ignoring him, of keeping my legs shut and my vagina as dry as the desert, he reads one teeny tiny snippet of a bullshit Kindle Unlimited-esque romantasy in front of me and here we are. 

“Give me details,” August says.

The two crows exchange a look. 

“I wasn’t asking.”

“There were rumors of something going down. A merger, a trade, I’m not sure exactly what,” the woman says.

“A trade with who?”

The boy swallows. “John the Revelator.”

John the Revelator, who earned his nickname back before the world ended through apocalyptic religious and political rhetoric, is pretty freaky, too. He was somehow elected to the House of Representatives a year or so before shit hit the fan, and when it did, he knew just how to play it. His followers, now called Thoroughbreds, were ready to flock to him.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see a muscle tick in August’s jaw. He keeps his eyes on the crows when he addresses his soldiers. “Tie them up. We’re taking them back with us.”

The boy’s eyes widen in panic. “We’ll tell you anything you want to know!”

“I’m glad to hear it,” August says. “Blindfold them, too.”

***

Our little mission has been cut short. Whatever information those two people have is worth more than anything we’ll find in these houses.

I go back into the house to grab my shit. I hurriedly stuff the book into my bag and bury it under a bunch of shit. There’s no way in hell I’m leaving this thing behind. 

“Still have that book?”

I jump at the sound of August’s voice; he neither notices nor cares. 

“Why?” I challenge. “Gonna make me put it in the library truck?”

“Of course not,” he says. “That book is yours.”

I quirk an eyebrow because I find that difficult to believe. “Really? You want me to keep it?”

“Really,” he agrees. “In fact, I insist.”

“Why?” He can’t possibly just want me to keep it out of the goodness of his heart.

His eyes travel down to my mouth and linger there before returning to mine. “Because I know you’re going to think about me every time you read it.”

Fuck. Why am I turned on when I know he has every intention of torturing those two crows if they don’t give him what he wants? 

He’ll torture the boy, at least. I heard a rumor that he doesn’t torture women – at least not physically – and I don’t know if that makes him a gentleman or a chauvinist. 

***

August Walker had an unfailing ability to keep himself in check.

He was especially grateful for it at times like these, when he was simultaneously interrogating prisoners and imagining Delilah Reid pleasuring herself as she thought of him.

How did she like to pleasure herself, he wondered? Was she the sort of woman to rub frantic circles around her swollen clit, desperate for release, or would she take the time to tease herself?

Perhaps she put fingers into her tight cunt. Two at a time, he guessed, and only up to the first knuckle. He was very good and guessing the little details that brought women pleasure.

When he had her, which he inevitably would, he would start with one finger. He’d penetrate her slowly and deeply and only give her enough time to catch her breath before plunging in and out, steadily increasing his pressure and pace. 

Thankfully, he stood with his back to the rest of the men in the tent, bent forward at the waist to mark the maps laid out on the tabletop. If anyone saw the impressive bulge in his pants, they assumed it was because he was in the middle of an interrogation, that his subjects; fear and his own power were what turned him on.

Not that a random, rude blue-collar twentysomething had him in knots – especially since that rude twentysomething wasn’t at the level of drop-dead gorgeous that was required for most men to withstand such high levels of bullshit.

“Where did you hear the rumors?” Sy asked the boy. He was in a wooden dining chair with arms, as was the woman. Neither of them were tied or taped down, though most of the soldiers in the room had rope or duct tape – a clear threat of what would happen should they cease cooperating.

“One of the other soldiers said he saw Draven meeting with a Thoroughbred at a stopover,” the boy said, using the nickname for John the Revelator’s followers. 

One of the other soldiers in the room produced a knife and started tossing it up into the air and catching it by the blade. The boy saw and started speaking faster.

“One of them should’ve killed the other but they didn’t. They passed things back and forth; I don’t know what.”

“There’s not enough food in Draven’s camp,” the woman said, her words stumbling over the boy’s. “It’s not sustainable. Draven would only trade if he absolutely had to.”

“Is that why you left, then?” August asked without turning towards the captives. “You were hungry?”

“I left cause all Draven has to trade is women,” the woman snaps. “I’m not gonna be a whore for a bunch of white supremacists.”

Sy turned to the boy. “And you left because?”

“Because he’s in love with her,” August said dismissively. He finally turned to look at his prisoners. Judging by the look on his face, the boy had never voiced his feelings. Judging by the look on hers, the woman was fully aware of this and chose to ignore it.

“You were a whore in Draven’s camp?” August said. The woman looked him up and down, eyes briefly catching on his groin, and nodded once. “Would you like to be a whore in mine?”

The woman’s eyes went back to the bulge in his pants.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” August said. “It’s not for you.”

Lilah was probably fucking herself right this second while the rest of the camp was sleeping, he thought. She was probably doing it under the covers on her shitty cot in her shitty tent with at least ten other people in there. 

Maybe some of them were awake. Maybe Lilah knew they were. Maybe she was too desperate to care.

“If I don’t want to be a whore?” the woman asked.

“Then I would hope you have something else of value to offer,” August said. “Otherwise, well . . .” He shrugged casually. “Take the night to think about it. Sy, put them somewhere secure for the night. I have other things I’d like to get done.”

[stealingyourbones]

Half-Life anon again. Im so glad you already played portal, that would definitely be next on the list!! DOOM is *also* so so good, between it and HL, it's probably the bigger adrenaline rush, and, at least as far as the classic game go, probably far less mechanically complex than HL! If you want the Full Lore for the classic games (1, 2, and 64) be sure to look up the manuals first, since they do the whole "setting up the story in the manual" thing before just dropping you right into the game.

Modern DOOM (2016 and Eternal) has absolutely nuts gameplay that makes you feel like a total badass no matter what difficulty you play on, and lore is all in the games ok, but... well. You'd be hard pressed to find a fan who doesn't think the story is a hot mess of a dumpster fire (including the ones who like or at least don't mind it, such as myself.) Especially Eternal's dlc has a very "but what ACTUALLY happened was [absolutely bs stupid rule-of-cool lore drop that makes no sense]" feel to it. The current lead writer keeps changing and adding lore three years after the fact, and most of us have decided by now that he's full of shit. But hey! You're a DC comics fan, I'm sure you know what that's like! The games are still good and I still love them anyway.

DOOM 3 is... sort of its own thing, in a weird limbo state. It's not really part of the same continuity as the rest of the games, and it leans a bit more heavily on the horror and suspense themes than the "you're not stuck with them, they're stuck with YOU" theme of the other games, so dont go into it expecting the same feel. It doesn't run quite as fluid as the other games, but it's the first true 3D game, as opposed to the classic 2.5D.

Anyway! That is all for now (again) but if you keep talking about these games, I will happily keep infodumping to you as long as you'll let me. :3

!!! Dude I’m so fuckin down for u to continue infodumping!

Good to know that the 2016 Doom’s storyline is a bit wild. As long as I can throw hands with demons I don’t mind >:D

Both Doom 1 and 2 are so fun dude!!! I also played My House.wad because it sounded cool and oh boy was it cool!!!! House of Leaves is on my reading list so I’m interested to see how the feller that made the .wad was inspired by it.

#broski if u wish my DM’s are open I’m so down to hear your funky thoughts!!!!! #bones replies #I currently have an emulator for the earlier console games but atm I don’t know how to put any games *on* the emulator so I wait #I’ve been playing a BUNCH of horror games recently like Faith the unholy trinity and Iron Lung #they’re so cool too dude! i love surrealist and psychological horror #it’s truly a shame that PT was never completed. i was so excited to play that game and then I found out it’s a lost game now :((((( #Ty for your asks bro I adore your enthusiasm!!! it’s wonderful

[formula-fun]

First of all, love your fics! Ur really talented! No pressure at all but do u know when the next update is gonna be? Could u recommend us some lestappen fics to read until ur next chapter? 😭🙏🏼

Hiiiii baby, thanks so much!!! I know I say it a lot but I truly do mean to have it out in the next few days! It's at about 12K right now and I've highlighted three sections that need better transitions to the section after them, so I basically have three short scenes to write and then proofreading, and then it'll (hopefully) be good to go. Thanks so much for waiting, and it's always nice to know people are excited about it!! I swear I'll try to have it out to you as fast as possible <3333

I should probably do a long official rec list soon as well, but there's a short one for you under the cut!!

/krak ʃɪt/ - @xiaoluclair - series - i love love love crack always and forever, and this is absolutely perfect. If you need something light and short to cheer you up this will have you set for the rest of forever. Their vibe is so fuckin good and these always make me laugh so hard!

on the limit - @drivestraight - 6.8 - this entire series is gorgeous, but I want to recommend this part in particular because even as a standalone I think it's really really brilliant! It's packed with so much subtext and such a punchy start to a series that ended up changing the way i think about this pairing, i love it

all this happened, more or less - @lightningmickqueen - 10.3K - the drama the melancholy the intrigue the overall vibe!! i reread this all the damn time and honestly it never makes me any less insane. fics with tweets and headlines worked into them never fail to make me lose my shit, i just love it and this is so well done

oui chef - @actparci - 16K - this is like if f1 met the bear except honestly the bear could never. i want to eat this fic and not just because it's about food. the found family restaurant vibe is perfectly done and everything about it just works, and I love Max and Charles' whole dynamic in this but also the way it builds up into them being work spouses. also max mother henning his friends is something that we will literally never have enough of fuck ya!!!!

+1

Where The Heart Is - @gemjam - 57K - this isn't lestappen and is a little older but it belongs on every rec list i ever do because it was one of the first f1 fics I ever read when i was introduced to the sport almost 10 years ago! i was a certified ferrari fan and red bull hater from the beginning, but the vibe of red bull as a little family compels me to this day and is simply so so essential and still so real. we have been shipping ferrari drivers with red bull drivers for ten long slutty years and we will continue to do so. It's also so good as a coming of age story!!!! it's honest and awkward and life isn't always perfect and people don't always behave their best whether theyre kids or teenagers or parents! Nobody has it all figured out, but they choose to keep trying every day and they love each other the best they can and i could honestly write an essay about how much that meant to me when I was 16 but also how dear to me that idea is at 25. also this fic introduced me to spanish tortilla which was a massive win, and it made me want a farm as a teenager and now im an architecture student and i understand workaholic adrian on a spiritual level. like this fic is so rich ive been screaming about it for a whole decade if you want to try something different give it a shot

#writing tag #this took way too long so sorry #and if i dont post in the next few days i promise to share more cut scenes/excerpts because im starting to get a little behnd schedule here

[incarnateirony]

people learning real fuckin quick i meant it. i am over literally all of your bullshit. The people who listened to what was said, and shared, in full, had zero fucking surprise, beyond perhaps general VAGUE disappointment on an appearance that TPTB already clarified.

But like. yall i meant it

i am DONE. I have tried to cut every fucking tie. I have told people to stop reporting to me. and most of all, I have plastered my shit with announcement that I do not care what you believe.

I knew it was coming, whether you even understood what everyone else understood of the timey wimey story and why it was dean the whole time, or not, okay.

Like. We weren't all bluffing like you guys. I wasn't bluffing about the market testing, or the confession, or the roadhouse, or the omissions, or the pilot, and so on. I do not know why you refuse to learn every time, I Do Not Bluff. Even if you're too rhubish to even understand what the fuck I am communicating to you, for upwards of 3 years at a time. I Do Not Bluff. You'd think you morons would figure that out by now.

I do not need to impress you. I do not need to bend back over into your fake fandom trapese of stan war trap bait, and trying to see how many other people you can trick into missing the point while playing paddleball reductio ad absurdum on any given truth you decide to butcher or miss the point on.

Stop it. Stop baiting for argument. Stop whining. Stop looking for weak points, because every single time, you're only showing weak points in your own perception, when you go WELL A OR B and you don't even realize it's a 256 color palate, not two choice option. That's your shit. Not mine. Stop putting the responsibility of other people to educate you when you already know you're confused as piss.

And most of all, stop treating everyone as an endless, disposable tap. That bullshit is what dug this fandom's holes to begin with. Nobody had to give you a goddamn WORD, I could have let you suffer lost for years while 2po lied and broke everyone's spirits, NOBODY HAD TO TELL YOU ALL SHIT. so STOP USING PEOPLE FOR SHORT TERM ATTENTION. because god DAMN if *I'm* this pissed off how the FUCK do you think show writers and shit feel

Do not fucking argue with me. Do not show up playing fucking stupid with me. Do not appeal to some vague fucking majority with me when I can look right into my own server and see hundreds of people that get it and only one of you that doesn't. Just fucking stop. Go the fuck away. I literally keep trying to like, erase your ability to even make noise in my proximity, I literally made leak systems designed to mitigate you as nuisances. That's how bad I don't care about your opinion beyond the decibel of nuisance your existence ads to the planet, somewhere alongside freight trains and that sound kids make in mcdonalds.

Nobody has to give you shit. Bend backwards for you being a beligerent asshole, even less. I do not know what fucking children of the corn bullshit this is, it's like supernatural fandom got dropped in the internet suspended from all normal fucking human contact for fifteen fucking years and developed their own rabid ass child porn worshipping fucking system and just expect the rest of the world to join their weird hobo hallucination

I. Guys. I'm not kidding. Yall need like. legit deprogramming if you can not step back and look at this from outside SPN fandom perspective, "Why do I care so much what Goob thinks? Why am I so angry Goob doesn't care if I believe him? Why am I arguing with someone that doesn't care if I say I don't care of believe him? Why won't he explain the shit I argued at him, obviously he should wanna straighten the parts I messed up on purpose!! WHY ISNT THIS WORKING!!"-- THIS IS NOT NORMAL FUCKING BEHAVIOR. GET HELP.

[whencartoonsruletheworld]

Hey there! Did you know that the Finding Nemo musical reopened? It's under a new subtitle, The Big Blue and Beyond! The show had a soft opening for the press, and a recording has been uploaded to YouTube if you want to see the updated version and what they've changed. I'd love to hear your thoughts, this musical has a special place in my heart too!

I will preface this by saying I have the og musical fuckin memorized so my first thoughts will probably be biased. With that in mind, I. DONT LIKE IT.

The biggest problem is the shortening. You can tell they sped up a lot of it and I get that! It’s a theme park! But it makes the story feel rushed as hell, + it still skips a LOT of early Marlin characterization which makes him seem more overbearing than anxious. IF WE DO NOT HAVE CONTEXT FOR WHY HE IS OVERBEARING WE LOSE EVERYTHING. It also makes “Go with the Flow” lose a lot of impact which sucks cause that’s the best song in the show. Cutting Nemo’s first solo is stupid as shit and I HATE IT.  It also cuts HIS character which is important because if we don’t care about him why do we care if he’s rescued.

The new intro is cute and I don’t hate the tie-in but I really do think you NEED the intro with Nemo's mom dying. I also miss the "out and then back in", they skip a lot of early Marlin characterization now which is a shame. It makes Marlin seem like less of a character throughout the rest of the show which is BAD because HE IS THE MAIN CHARACTER.

The screen is nice I guess but they did fine with practical effects before this it’s very unnecessary.

The narration is also VERY unnecessary. We can see what’s happening idiots let the live show be a live show and not an audiobook. It also serves to undermine a lot of the emotional beats.

I also have to wonder if this is a covid-protocol-specific version, there’s less going into the audience and fewer performers, I have to wonder if it’s only for social distancing. Another point for my theory is the cutting of Marlin and Dory in the boat, that is the closest any performers get and it seems that cut was very intentional.

The shortening of the shark scene is baaaaad we need the mask earlier you fucking idiots.

I don’t like that they cut ALL THE WIREWORK that shit was impressive as HELL.

THE FUCKIN JELLYFISH ARE GONE WHAT HTE FUCK?????? BRO WHAT THE FUCK. THAT’S LIKE THE MOST EMOTIONAL MOMENT OF THE SHOW WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU. WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU

I like the screen effects in the turtle scene i’ll be honest

Cutting the gossip chain was shitty that was the most fun part

WHERE. IS. THE PELICAN. PUPPET. WHERE THE FUCK IS IT. WHERE IS IT. WHERE IS IT. WHERE IS IT. WHERE THE FUCK IS IT. WHERE IS HE. GIVE HIM BACK. WHAT THE FUCK

HOW FUCKING DARE THEY CUT THE NET ENDING. THAT’S THE EMOTIONAL CLIMAX???? THAT’S THE ENTIRE CLIMAX/??? IT SHOWS THE CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT. JESUS CHRIST. I HATE YOU

music still good. really liked the nemo performer in the recording i saw specifically, the one from DIS

tl;dr bad. bad. do not like it. fuck this

#finding nemo #finding nemo the musical #mine

[princess-of-the-corner]

Just thought of another episode for the Avatar!Ty Lee AU: Does anything change in "Baton of the Water Tribe"?

lmao at the autocorrect on that one!

But yes! Bato my dude!

So this does change a lot of things about this episode(in part because I... I do not like the one part of this episode. y’all know the part.)

Anyway!

So yeah they run into Bato and we get Katara and Sokka excited to see their stepdad friend.

And now Bato. Bato isn’t an idiot. He clocks onto the fact that there’s a bunch of Fire Nation guys here. But four of them are kids. 

However, it is Iroh that gets Bato’s attention. Because it was /kinda/ glossed over in an earlier episode and Katara and Sokka don’t know the weight or context to it. 

But Bato knows /exactly/ who Iroh is. The Dragon of the West, the General who laid siege to Ba Sing Sae for 600 days. Man has one hell of a killcount and that’s just for direct action. 

What is a guy like this doing with a bunch of kids, including two kids Bato considers his own and the Avatars, and seeming to directly oppose the war? 

Bato doesn’t confront Iroh in front of the kids. But he does confront him about it. The only reason he’s not starting a fight is because, somehow, he’s gained Sokka and Katara’s trust. 

Iroh’s response is mostly like ‘yeah that’s fair I am a pretty awful person.’ which catches Bato off guard. Iroh doesn’t go into /everything/ but he does admit that he’s realized how wrong things are, and honestly if he wasn’t determined to change things, he’d be totally fine with facing consequences of his actions. But he refuses to let another child die in this war. Not if he can help it. 

Bato finds this a satisfactory enough answer. He doesn’t fully trust Iroh but he knows that everything is genuine. 

Back to the rest of the plot!

While visiting, we get Katara, Sokka and Bato all just enjoying what they can of their own culture together. And just excitedly sharing stuff from back home with the others. 

It opens up the more culture discussion as the Fire Nation kids ask more about all that, and share stories of the /good/ parts of the Fire Nation. The festivals, the foods, some of the games, theatre performances, etc. 

It’s honestly a lot of fun for potential world building and culture sharing and everyone’s having fun for a bit. 

But Aang is very quiet at first. Just. A reminder that even if Ty Lee is proof that some of the Air Nomads survived, their culture didn’t. 

Ofc in this version someone notices Aang being quiet and either he confesses to that thought or they connect the dots. Either way, they start asking him more about his own culture too! And yeah there’s plenty of things he can tell them about. It is a bit sad still but.... it’s also kinda hopeful ya know? 

We still do get the ice/rock dodging on the boats which is fun for all the kids like hell fuckin yeah more sharing the culture here let’s go!!!

When that letter for Bato comes, Aang doesn’t do any sketch shit about it because 1.) I hate that 2.) he feels a lot less alone than he did. Not just because even if Katara and Sokka left he’d still have people but just in general because like. The whole culture sharing talk was wholesome and less isolating. 

Katara and Sokka do debate on going with Bato to see their dad, but decide that it’s better if they stay on their own path right now. They miss their dad, but they have their own things to do. They do make sure that Bato can tell the others hi for them!

Okay so like. 

As for June. /Logically/ she shouldn’t be here given the changes. But I love her so she can stay. 

I suppose we could either have Zhao hire her instead, or just that she saw the Gaang’s wanted posters and went ‘boy fuckin howdy is that a payday!’. 

#avatar!ty lee au

[reaperkiller]

50 marcus and jason

first of all i am very sorry this strayed so far from the prompt so fast but it happened but it's still briefly mentioned so it counts. kind of. It Still Counts. second of all i hate these two so much theyre so weird. third of all. i made them that way 1.2k words so. not very long. mostly dialogue <3 and the two of them being idiots in drastically different ways.

“Wait, wait, okay, just-. Explain it again. One more time.” Marcus tilts his head, still looking just as puzzled as he did every other time Jason explained his thought process. This guy’s a goddamn mystery. 

“What’s not to get? Guy looked at me funny, I dealt with it.” Jason replies with a shrug, as if that was something that people just did. From his perspective, he saw absolutely nothing wrong with what he did. He was defending himself. The cuts and bruises dotted all over his body show that he could have maybe done a better job, or at least found a less sturdy opponent. Jason was usually good at fighting, avoiding a great deal of serious injuries with ease - but not this time, this time was different. His guard was down. 

“Yeah, like a damn maniac. You could’ve just, oh I don’t know, ignored him. Like a normal person.” Marcus scoffs, shaking his head in disbelief. For a moment, he considers just walking away, leaving Jason to clean himself up for a change. The thought quickly passes, and he goes back to wiping the blood from Jason’s nose. They both know that, if Marcus wasn’t there, he’d most definitely be deader than dead by now, and so would many others. Leaving him to his own devices would be a death sentence to everyone around him. 

Jason laughs - a loud, genuine laugh, something he’d rarely done before, if ever. It was hard to make him laugh, but when he did, it was always worth it each and every time, to Marcus, at least. The way he snorts sometimes when he laughs, the huge grin, just little things that make him feel more human, rather than some harsh force of nature. But that small glimpse of humanity is almost immediately overshadowed by his stupidity and impulsiveness. “What, you never got in a fight with someone ‘cause of that before?” He sounds like he’s in utter disbelief. It was either a very bad lie, or a very good joke. When Marcus’ expression doesn’t change, when he doesn’t even laugh, the smile quickly drops from Jason’s face. “Oh, you were bein’ serious. Huh.”

What? Of course I was being serious. Why’d he think I wasn’t? The hell kind of world has he been living in this whole time?

He stops cleaning Jason’s wounds, and leans back, blinking slowly at him in confusion. Silence. He’s at a complete loss for words. “Y-... Yes…? Most people have a little something called self-control.” Stress kicks in, and he pushes himself off the bed so he can go and pace around the room. Whether it was to calm him down, or whether it was so he wouldn’t turn the room into a crime scene, he wasn’t sure.

“Sounds fuckin’ boring as shit if you ask me.” Jason simply shrugs again, and stretches his arms out before resting them behind his head, each cracking uncomfortably loud as he moves them. 

“Yeah, well, it’s nice to not nearly get yourself killed every day.” He stares daggers at Jason, who doesn’t seem to mind - he’s just laying there, smug as ever. His hair is a mess, his clothes are a mess, his shirt is barely holding together, the tears leaving the large bullet scar on his stomach on full show. Something Marcus had never really paid attention to until now. His eyes settle on it, if only for a brief moment. “Is that from one of your infamous fights?” He gestures towards the scar, unsure as to why that one in particular stands out to him so much.

“Oh, that bad boy?” Jason lets out a small laugh, sounding as if he’s about to reminisce on a very funny story about a dangerous childhood escapade. This filled Marcus with a little bit of hope, it was just going to be a silly tale, nothing more. Oh, how wrong he was. “It’s pretty funny, actually. Got shot.”

“Hah, yeah shot by what? “A goddamn potato launcher. What do you think?”

Marcus stops in his tracks as a look of concern washes over him. No, no. That can’t be right. A shot like that would kill you, surely. Or cause some very severe damage. 

“Wh-. The hell kinda fight did you start for you to get shot?”

“Stupid, petty little relationship drama. Over…” He trails off, trying to think of how to explain everything while simultaneously explaining nothing at all. The less Marcus knows, the better. “Some shit or whatever. I don’t know. Next thing I know, fucker’s got a gun. Then he just” - 

he forms a gun with his hand and aims it at his stomach, pretending to shoot himself - “Boom. Y’know. Weird bastard.” He’s very clearly trying to make light of the whole situation, but it’s not working very well. 

Before Marcus can say anything accusatory towards him, he quickly goes on the defensive, “Wasn’t my fault, though. The argument. He started it. I mean, yeah, I was an annoying little fucker, didn’t mean he had to go an’ just… Unleash hell like that, y’know.” Another long, thoughtful pause. “Haven’t seen him since.” His words are filled with hatred, anger, disappointment, emotions that quickly faded as soon as he finished speaking, like he’d come to accept what had happened to him. 

What’s Marcus supposed to do now? Try and comfort him, somehow, after making him reopen an old wound - metaphorically, of course. “That’s. Uh. Incredibly shitty. Sorry for, y’know… Asking.” Nice job on the consolation. You know just what to say to make everyone feel better. Dick.

“Aah, don’t worry about it, asshole’s gonna get what’s coming to him, trust me. We’re makin’ sure of it.”

“We? What do you mean we?” The cogs start whirring in Marcus’ head as he tries to figure out what he meant. We. We? Why do I have a stake in this now? Who’s th-. 

Oh.

Shit.

His mouth drops open. “You mean-. Like. He. You-. And then. Me. But you-. He?”

Jason nods as Marcus struggles to speak, struggles to deal with this new piece of information that’s just hit him like a freight train. He can barely form a sentence, instead just making various sounds and gestures with his hands. It’s definitely getting his point across, though.

“Kinda thought you would’ve known, to be honest.”

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t think to ask my boyfriend how many people he tries to kill every week.”

“Well, it’s a good thing you don’t ask me, then.”

Very reassuring. Just what Marcus wanted to hear at that moment in time. He was already having a hard time coping with Jason getting into fights, and now he has to somehow take Jason’s and his ex’s attempted body count into consideration? To say that made him extremely nervous was an understatement.

Jason laughs at a very inappropriate time, his words doing nothing but make the situation worse, “At least I have the balls to actually go through with it.”

Marcus’ eyes widen, his expression being somewhere between ‘why would you say that’ and ‘my god I’m trapped on a road trip with a killer. With the killer. And I need to go home right now immediately. But I’m stuck here and I can’t drive. Shit. This is how I die. SHIT’.

“Kidding, kidding. Don’t even worry about it.”

Marcus was going to keep worrying about it. And Jason wasn’t kidding. Not in the slightest.

#oc tag #IT'S SHORT BUT I LIKE DOING WRITING SHORT LITTLE THINGS ABOUT THESE GUYS BEING DUDES.

[ghost-face-1]

Brighter Than The Stars (ghost soap Konig)

CHAPTER 2: New lieutenant

Note: alt I’m kinda excited for this one cause soap is actually in it :)

Price and the new lieutenant walked into the meeting room. Everybody went silent at the sight.

SOAPS POV: (I’ll be using third person cause I hate first person)

Soap looked around at everyone. The first man he saw, Gaz- he’d heard little things about everyone before he had arrived. Gaz seemed to be enthusiastic to have a new lieutenant on the team , then Alejandro and Rodolpho, or ale and Rudy, they seemed close together. Both seemed to be Spanish gentlemen. Then- ‘ah- shit, those two are fuckin towers. ‘ he thought to himself. Ghost, he leaned against the wall- and he really caught soaps eye. He was tall - easily like 6’6 or 6’7. And- he wore a skull mask. The only part of him you could see were his coffee brown eyes. ‘Spooky’ he thought to himself. And- an even taller guy next to him. Seemed to be anxious. He was fidgeting with his fingers- he had a shooter hood with faded red stripes under his eyes. Dressed in all black. That must be Konig- he was also easily 6’10.

“go ahead, introduce yourself boy. “ Captain Price spoke calmly and patiently. “Oh- John Mactavish is my name, but Soap is my nickname. “ Soap said proudly. Price nodded. “I’m Captain Price, but you can just call me Price, soap. “ Price said sweetly but firmly. “And I’m Gaz. And I love shooting and -“ Gaz seemed to tell him his whole life story. “I’m Alejandro, but Ale for short. -“ “and I’m rodolpho, But Rudy for short! Great to have a new amigo. “ Rudy cut ale off with a smile. Then they all looked to ghost. “Ghost. “ ghost spoke firmly and in a deep voice. “Well ye I assumed. Ya gottoo’ tail me some thin’! Yoir favourite color or something?’”Soap asked with a chuckle, expecting at least Gaz to chuckle but no. No one laughed. It was dead quiet, all eyes on soap and ghost. Konig seemed to send a warning glance at ghost. “Learn it when you earn it. “ ghost said with a huff. Soap assumed that huff was meant to be a chuckle of some sort. Gaz seemed bewildered, and so did the rest of the crew. Soap looked over to Konig who seemed a lot more friendlier than ghost, for a mountain. “I am Konig, very glad to veet vu!” He exclaimed with a thick German or Australian accent. Now that soap thought about it, ghost seemed to have a British accent. Soap himself had a Scottish accent. Soap smiled at them both, Konig seemed to get a little less anxious. But ghost on the other hand- seemed tense. ‘Weird reaction. ‘ soap thought to himself. “Alright. Ahem. Anyways, ghost. You and soap will be partners, deal with it. I want no bickering. And that’s an order. “ Proce said. Everyone looked at him shocked. “What- Fuck no price. Unless you wanna loose him in other ways than quitting than no!” Ghost hollered back. “I said that’s an order. “ price responded impatiently. “You got an issue with that ghost?” Price added. “..Negative, sir. “ ghost stood straight. Seeming even taller than before. “Good. “ price responded. Seeming to even struggle to look up at him. Ghost seemed to intimidate the entire 141 team. Ghost walked out of the room. “Konig- can you please go calm him down? Soap, you go with him. Tell him that you two need to start training right away. Get to know each other. “ price commanded. Soap and Konig just nodded their heads and walked off, following ghost.

NO POV:

“what the fuck was that- he’s pissed- price why’d I even think about that-“ Gaz asked but price cut him off. “Ghost needs to learn how to accept people. You saw the way he interacted with soap, the closest bond ghost has had was roach. And after his death he refuses anyone. And- he’s the best Guilin our team- I’m hoping he can pass some traits down to soap. And he’s a great teacher, he taught Konig how to shoot a gun for gods sake. “ price said. No one could argue with price though, because in the end it usually works out.

NOTES: okay, so like I literally retyped this like 18 different times because every time it just didn’t seem right. But I think this is my fave chapter so far. I’m working on chapter 3, so yay <3

#Soapxghostxkonig

[shurisneakers]

harmless (i)

Summary: Bucky volunteers to go stop a small time villain, but nothing can prepare him for what exactly he has to deal with. (Bucky x villain!reader)

Warnings: cursing, nonsense writing

Word count: 1.5k 

A/N: listen i just needed something to keep my mind busy and a perry the platypus!bucky and dr. doofenshmirtz!reader was the only thing i could think of. dont have any high expectations from this series, you will be sorely disappointed.

If you have any ideas for this series, lemme know!! it’d be cute to write!!

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Series Masterlist

Bucky Barnes, for all intents and purposes, is edgy. 

His SHIELD salary is definitely enough to afford him a simple beanie, gloves even if he’s that eager. His long hair, though a spectacle in itself, isn’t as good at keeping away the cold as he claims it to be. 

It’s a personal choice, a fashion statement even, to be roaming the streets in a long flimsy t-shirt that does nothing to accentuate his broad shoulders, and tactical pants that look a little too comfortable. 

It’s cold. He says he likes it, to appease his blond haired best friend who insisted that he wear a cardigan at least. He won’t like it in a while, but he would never admit it.

The bike ride to the other side of town for a minor mission takes longer than he expected. The wind rushing by gets his adrenaline racing. 

Official missions are long and gruelling, and oftentimes not fun. But it gives him a purpose.

It’s easy, therefore, to find him brooding when he’s not on one. 

No one wants their room to be on the receiving end of Bucky’s stress-cleaning sessions. His baking is more appreciated.

So when there’s news of a small time villain creating havoc again, it made sense that he volunteered to go sort it out. No one else wanted the job. They’d all been at it before. 

SHIELD didn’t seem particularly bothered either. 

“It’s not that serious, Barnes.”

“I’m going.”

“Just stop her from doing whatever dumb plan she has today. She seems to have a new one every week.”

“Can I-”

“This is not an assassination mission.”

“Fine. Can I-”

“No.”

“Fine.”

He didn’t know what to expect. He had an idea of how they should be. Smaller villains tended to be more aggressive, vicious to prove their point. They were here to stay.

He wears his regular gear. Enough knives to make a butcher look away in shame, and guns including, but not limited to, his biceps.

He finally pulls the bike to a stop a few metres away, leaving it out of reach in case things got too out of hand. He didn’t want to have to walk back to the Tower, and his friends, as much as they loved him, would never go out of their way to pick him up. Little shits. 

The address is a dingy, plain concrete house near an old construction site. It was flat and felt more like an afterthought than an actual building. It looked more like an abandoned Walmart than an actual villain lair. 

The only entrance is the door in the front. He counts to three, lifting his leg to kick it down.

It falls down ungracefully, loud and creaky like it was bound to the doorframe by rust. 

The only light source inside is a green light. All the way at the other end on an elevated platform is a desk and a chair facing away from him. He can’t see much other than that.

Someone’s laughter comes back loud and booming. He raises his gun, feet apart in a defensive stance. 

“I’ve been expecti-” the voice pauses mid-sentence- “Did you just kick down my door?”

He looks behind him to where the wooden piece is on the floor. He certainly did.

He can finally see you as you stand up, green light illuminating your face. You reach over to the side, pressing a few switches. 

He squints when all the lights turn on, pulling the both of you from darkness. 

“Dude!” you cry out, face twisting into what only could be described as a mix of horror and disdain. “What’d you do that for?”

He doesn’t say anything but he doesn’t lower his gun either.

“You’re an Avenger, just fuckin’ pick the lock or something. This is expensive!” 

He only watches as you whine, looking beyond him at your now demolished entrance. You take a few steps closer, jumping down from the elevated platform.

“Insurance isn’t going to cover this.” You drag your palm across your fist before extending it towards him. “Pay up.”

He wasn’t sure if he heard you right.

“What?” he finally asked, voice gruff.

“All you superheroes go around, destroying walls and cars in the name of world peace like you own the damn thing. Not today, bitch boy. Pay up.”

He doesn’t have his wallet with him. He didn’t expect to need it.

“I’m supposed to be stopping you.” 

“You can do that once you pay for my door.” 

You sound resolute, unshaken. A little annoyed. There’s what appears to be a gun in your hand, although it’s unlike any weapon he’s seen before.

“What’s your plan?” Bucky looks at your hand. Your stare follows his. You lift the thing up and he tenses.

“I was going to freeze some jerk but now my plan is to get you cancelled on Twitter.” 

“Why?” his eyebrows knit together in confusion.

“Local superhero destroys property of tax paying citizen for no good reason.”

“I mean-” he shakes his head, discarding what you’re saying, “-why were you going to freeze someone?”

“Because I wanted to. But you’ve ruined the mood now, so that won’t happen.”

He blinks, lowering his weapon when he realises you weren’t making any attempt to move. “What’s your ulterior motive?”

“Nothing! I just wanted to mildly inconvenience that stupid fuck for being such a prick.”

He doesn’t know what to say. 

“Is that the freeze ray?” Bucky asks instead, raising his gun when he realises there’s a very real chance he could end up like his best friend. 

“You got a problem with it?” You hold it up carelessly. 

“I can’t let you use that.”

“That’s all you’re going to do?” you huff, “Is this what you call an intervention? This is so boring.”

“Give me the freeze ray and no one has to get hurt.” 

“No one was going to get hurt in the first place, genius. All this does is slow him down for 5 minutes so he misses the subway.”

There’s nothing technically that evil about what you’re doing. He doesn’t even know how you ended up on SHIELD’s radar. He gets why no one was particularly driven to take this seriously.

“And for fuck’s sake put that gun away. You’re not scaring me.” 

He doesn’t oblige, even though something tugs at him, telling him that you’re speaking the truth. 

“Here, take the stupid thing.” You don’t bother waiting for his response, bending over and sliding the gun towards his feet. “I’ll find another way to get back at that dickhead.”

It hits his boot with a small thud. He looks down. Its design is ridiculously comical, like you ripped it straight out of a kid’s TV show. 

“Next time, bring some drama. Wear a cape or something.” You wave him off. “Now get out of my lair. I need to fix the door.”

“You don’t have another one of these lying around, do you?”

“Why, do your friends want one too?” The glare you give him is dangerous. He doesn’t react to it. “No, it’s limited edition. I don’t build the same thing twice.”

“You have others?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know, weather boy?” A smile grows on your face, dropping as quickly as it arrives. “SHIELD will tell you if I do. Now leave.”

Bucky looks at the freeze ray in his hand. He supposes his job is done. He was told to stop you, but you didn’t seem to have any inclination to go on with your plan.

“You can ask them if you want, they know about me.” You roll your eyes. “Go ahead, call them.”

He doesn’t want to take a chance. As odd as the situation is, it’s still novel and he isn’t quite sure how to deal with it.

He tucks your weapon under his arm, pressing his phone to his ear.

“Yes, Sergeant Barnes?” Maria’s voice is crisp as ever.

“I confiscated a... freeze ray.” He feels ridiculous even saying it. “But I’m going to bring her in to SHIELD headquarter-”

“That won’t be necessary.”

“But we can’t trust-”

“We’ve been keeping tabs on her for a while. She’s more or less harmless. You can take the rest of the night off, Sergeant.”

He cuts the call, not entirely at ease with the smug, expectant look on your face. 

Still, he couldn’t disobey direct orders.

“I’m gonna... go.” He mentions towards the gaping hole in the wall.

“That would be ideal, yes.” You nod, crossing your arm over your chest.

“Okay.” He hesitates, but finally takes a step backwards. He peeks over his shoulder as he leaves, but finds you swivelled away from him again. 

He steps back outside. The cold greets him again like an old friend. The weight of his weapons feels stupidly embarrassing now. 

It’s a long drive back to the Tower. He keeps replaying the entire story in his mind. He’s unsure of whether he made the right call, but no one else really seemed to care. 

He had seen weirder things. It came with the gig.

He leaves it at that.

“How’d it go?” Steve asks him when he walks into the living room.

“T’was fine,” he answers, toying with the stupid device he took from you. Maybe he would test it on Clint. He had been getting annoying lately. Breathing too much in Bucky’s general direction.

A part of him feels guilty for his carelessness towards your building. The other part is just bewildered. 

That night he looks up the cost it takes to replace a door, making a mental note to draw some money from the ATM soon.

Next part

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #mcu fic #bucky fic #bucky barnes fic #bucky fluff #bucky barnes fluff #bucky angst #bucky barnes angst #harmless fic #winter soldier x reader #Winter Soldier #bucky barnes #bucky

[not-me-simping-for-blasty]

some soft!bakugou brainrot for the soul:

-he likes when you greet him in the morning. will absolutely roll his eyes and say sum “jesus, idiot, it’s too fuckin’ early for pathetic enthusiam like that” but will also simultaneously get pouty if u dont say hi to him first

-very much a quiet boy when it’s late at night. will just sit back with his eyes half-lidded and head in his hands, giving a little “mhm” to everything you say. you think he’s not listening but when you don’t finish a thought he will, without missing a beat go “the hell? really? gonna talk that much and then not even finish the story?”

-will cook meals that you like but will insist that he likes them too. bakugou is 100% trying to convince you that he made it for himself but the entire extra portion with your favorite toppings implies the opposite

-pays attention to what you’re doing in training, and will not outright tell you if you’re doing well,, but when ur alone he’ll just sorta “you looked less pathetic than last time, dumbass” with a slight smirk as he brushes past you

-likes to bicker,, i mean come on, obviously, but what i mean is that he just looks so weirdly happy when u yell at him (def goes heart eyes but literally do not say a word about it pls)

-goes very soft for hand massages,,, just like, ground ur thumb into the heel of his hand and rub at his knuckles. man’s will melt into wherever he’s sitting and close his eyes

-will absolutely bite your head off if you’re reckless, but then spend the rest of his time trying to think of ways to avoid u ever being in that much danger again

-remembers places you’ve been together very clearly. so like, if y’all wanna revisit some restaurant, bakugou is leading the way and ur just like “??? that was 6 months ago how do u know where you’re going” ,, n he just scoffs and “because i’m the best. now shut up and pay attention we’re about to cross the street”

-is very soft about u wearing his clothes but only when no one else is around to see it. idk contrary to popular belief i actually see him being very flustered by the sight of u in his clothes. so he won’t let u wear anything around others rlly, but when it’s just him??? poor bby is so soft for it. like, v much hiding his red face in your neck and just breathing u in type of soft

-has a specific blanket that he keeps for when u hang out. eventually it starts to smell like you, bc obviously, n he’ll cuddle up with it when you can’t be with him

-adores when you sing to him. 100% doesn’t matter if you’re good or not,, bakugou just likes that you don’t do it in front of anyone else

-likes when you get needlessly angry with him. idk how to explain it,, but just like, if he’s bitching at one of his friends and you back him up, purely bc u like the chaos, bakugou will be totally 🥰 over it. only after he’s done yelling tho

-mans has a thing for praise. he does. we been knew. but he rlly has an even bigger thing for mundane praise, like rlly small things like, “wow your handwriting is so neat” or “omg your room is so clean! you’re so organized!”,,, jus tiny stuff in passing that let’s him kno he’s doing good

-will absolutely not admit it but he 100% prays for lint on his uniform so you’ll brush it off for him. it’s like, a tiny little touch, just enough to sate him, but not so much that it feels like embarrassing pda

-is a sucker for someone he can just sit in silence with. like idk, if y’all noticed it, but he literally has like, nothing to say when he’s not bitching, so if he’s not angry he’ll just be quiet. if u can be quiet with him, in the same space but not talking, bakugou is a very happy boy about it

-he likes to know things about you no one else does,, so if u tell him anything in confidence, literally anything, he’ll keep it secret. 100% every time, no exceptions, will never spill a single detail even if someone is begging him to

-probably demands that u say u love him multiple times before y’all go to sleep. its the only affection he outright asks for so u give in every time

-shares whatever he has with u. just wordlessly will hand u a piece of whatever he’s eating. doesn’t warn u if it’s spicy tho,, bc he’s still a little shit

-sort of just follows you wherever you’re going. like, if u tell him u want to be alone he’ll leave, but otherwise he just kinda assumes he’s meant to follow. most times he’s right

-he is 100% the type to know something is wrong without u having to say it. he prob knows exactly what it is too. lmao like, sure, he’s still totally clueless on how to approach/support you but bakugou is the furthest thing from dumb. he knows,, he just does.

-gets super protective about your things. like, god forbid somebody try to write anything in ur notebook while you’re not paying attention,, bakugou’ll threaten them before their pen even touches the paper

-he likes to tend to your injuries. like, even the rlly minor ones. like, let’s say u get a papercut??? pls mans is grabbing your finger, running it under water, and wrapping a bandaid around it before u even register it. he’ll grumble the whole time like “jesus, dumbass, can’t believe i have to do this.” but rlly he enjoys doing it bc it makes him feel important. like maybe he’s someone heroic to u

-if no one else is around, and there’s a lot of trust established, he’ll prob do whatever u tell him to. now ofc there’s gonna be a lot of complaining, bc it’s bakugou, but he’ll do it

-is a big fan of when you tell him he’s your favorite. pls the man is so see-through ahaha,, u could be like “omg! bakugou! you took out the trash without me asking?? that’s why you’re my favorite!” n all he walks away hearing is “they think im the best. i fucking am the best.”

-he likes to watch you do mundane things. like rlly little, every-day things like brushing your hair or tying your shoes. idk he just thinks your methodical movements are weirdly calming

-is a sucker for forehead kisses. like obvi, only when y’all are alone, but like, press a kiss to his hairline?? suddenly it’s rip angry bakugou, soft bakugou hrs only

-doesn’t rlly initiate touch that much,, but when he does mans is extremely petulant about it. like, if u decide u have something more pressing than him, bakugou is almost immeadiately going “that’s fucking stupid. what you’re doing. you should stop.” n then he’s just poking and prodding and needling at u until u fall into his arms

-shadows you at social gatherings. very guard-dog like from an outsider perspective, but rlly it’s just bc when katsuki says he doesn’t like anyone else, he means it. he’s sticking by you bc you truly are the only one he tolerates

-he secretly rlly likes when u fuss over him. like, when u ask him if he’s sore from training or if he has any injuries. bakugou will brush u off like the absolute bitch that he is, but secretly he’ll be so warm about it. he just likes that u care enough to ask

-he tries very hard to be gentle for u. ofc it pretty much never works bc it’s him, but he’ll still forever be reading romance manga n going “yeah, i bet they’d like that. gonna it do it way better though. im the fucking best, i can do it.”

ahahaaha me?? a bunch of bakugou thoughts?? never, idk what ur on about

#bnha bakugou #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugou #bnha bakugo katsuki #bnha fic #mha bakugou #bakugou x reader #bakugou headcanons