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roger-that-cap · 6 months

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delicate

bradley bradshaw x fem!reader

warnings: cheating (it’s not bradley who does it but it is on the reader), slight emotional cheating, alcohol use, uh that’s it really! unedited as always!

word count: 4.4k

summary: bradley bradshaw has a best friend. he is also in love with his best friend. it’s a shame that everything’s just a little too delicate to mess with.

the way that i’m actively participating in this fandom is literally so funny to me considering i swore off posting my work in any fandom in like 2022 but here we are. my obsession with the white man with the mustache cannot be thwarted by words of the past. or the man with the cute glasses. or the cocky one with the toothpick. but we’ll take it one day at a time

also this is inspired by delicate by taylor swift ofc 🤪 this is for all my lover girls/boys/friends who want hot guys to dream of them. we are cut from the same cloth and we are two sides of the same coins.

Bradley Bradshaw was an outgoing guy. He was the guy that stopped the music just so that he could put on a show of his own. He was the guy that walked in late, expected attention, and got it. He was the guy that took other people out of their shells. He was confident in a way that was endearing. He was steady on his feet and he never faltered.

Until he met you.

The first time he saw you at the Hard Deck, he was intimidated. You were having so much fun on your own with your little group, clearly civilians who ended up in a bar full of sharks in uniform. That first night, all he did was look from afar.

The second time he saw you, your group was a little smaller, but you were still sporting that same smile. He was close enough to hear you turn a few men down over the course of the night, and that was enough to throw him off again. If it was meant to be, he’d see you again, he thought to himself.

And then he saw you again.

It was the night Penny finally put a karaoke machine in the bar. Bradley managed to convince all of the squad to come, simply because he scheduled himself for at least 3 songs. So they all showed up, and just as he was about to start thinking of what his opener was going to be, the bar music stopped and the karaoke machine started playing, accompanied with girly laughter.

There you were. Standing right at the front of the room with sunglasses over your face and a mic to your lips, fighting a smile as you started a one woman rendition of “End Game” by Taylor Swift.

It was clear by the grin on your face that you were doing it purely to make your friends laugh. He watched you in awed silence, dancing all over the small space and laughing when you took a misstep.

“She’s more ballsy than even you, Bradshaw,” Hangman said, nodding up to you dancing. “Or maybe the word is obnoxious.”

“She’s so cute,” Natasha said, laughing. “I love it.”

“Big reputation, BIG reputation,” you were saying into the mic, leaning halfway over.

“I’d have to be so drunk to do that,” Bob muttered to himself, but even he couldn’t deny the guts it took to go up there even as a joke.

The song ended, and you kindly handed the mic to the man standing at the machine, a sheepish look on your face until you were surrounded by your laughing friends.

“You gonna top that, Bradshaw?” Jake asked, and then Bradley looked over at you again, still smiling.

“I’ll let the bar cool down and prepare for me,” Bradley said, still looking over at you. It was then that Jake caught him.

“Why don’t you go talk to her?”

“Huh?”

“You should talk to her,” Jake repeated, and Bradley frowned at him. “She's pretty. Looks nice enough.” There was a pause, and then that ever-mocking smirk that came to haunt everyone’s dreams. It meant Jake was up to something. “Or I will.”

So, he did. He walked up to you, thinking it couldn’t possibly be that bad. The worst thing you could do was say “no”, and he would take that in stride. He never had to before, but he would if it meant he could just talk to you. Just see.

He was walking up to you, coming from behind, and then it was like you knew he was coming, because you whipped right around. And then he caught your eyes and all he could say was, “I love your hair.”

He kicked himself in that moment, but he realized afterwards that was probably what saved him. It was a strange comment, but it was better than a sleazy one. It was probably the only reason you didn’t tell him to leave you alone right away.

“Thanks!” You looked him up and down, but it wasn’t super flirtatious- you were just looking, like you were searching for a genuine compliment to give him. You just looked so sweet. “That mustache and shirt combo is awesome. I wish I could pull off colors like you.”

And that was the story of how you and Bradley became close friends. In the beginning, he told himself that he was okay with being just friends with the pretty middle school teacher. He was totally okay with you having a boyfriend, because he was your friend, and only that. But every time he saw you smile and laugh or how passionate you were while creating your lesson plans, he couldn’t help but know that he was lying to himself.

It didn’t help that your boyfriend was a piece of shit. Originally he wasn’t one outright, it was just the little things. He walked on the wrong side of the sidewalk. Bradley witnessed him make you split the tab at the bar. He had a wandering eye. He touched you only when another man got close, almost like he was guarding a treasure rather than protecting the love of his life. It was all wrong, and it all left a sour taste in Bradley's mouth.

The sour taste only got worse when five months into knowing you, that same good for nothing boyfriend of yours got another girl pregnant.

Bradley could have sworn that he was going to get discharged for beating up an enlisted man the first time he heard the news. You were crying, bawling your eyes out over the phone in the middle of the night, crying so hard you were nearly throwing up. You told him that you were calling him because you had nowhere to go and you had to get out of your house. He didn’t blame you. In fact, he had never driven so fast.

So, you stayed at his house that night. One night turned into three, and then three nights turned into a week, and it snowballed from there. At first, it was easy to hide his feelings. You were sad, and making a move was the last thing on his mind. All he wanted was for you to feel better, and soon you eventually did. But his selfish mind almost wished that you never had, because the second you started smiling again in his house, in such close quarters to each other, he felt his resolve slipping.

He felt the words coming on the tip of his tongue every morning. You left earlier than him to go to your classroom and set up, and you always left coffee out for him. Sometimes you made his eggs if you had enough time. You made dinner more often than not, insisting on doing that if he wasn’t going to charge you for staying with him. And then you would pick the best movies and you liked the ones he picked, too. You sang in the shower and the bathroom you used always had makeup and face wash and a comb in it, but you still kept it neat. The words were close to escaping his mouth, but when he clamped his teeth down and held it in, it made that same sour taste that your boyfriend did.

That very sour taste in his mouth was there at the bar when he realized he was watching you far too often for it to be friendly. The last thing he wanted to do was make it seem like he was trying to make a move on you while you were clearly still trying to get over what your ex had done.

“You’d better get your girl, Bradshaw,” Jake drawled, and Bradley rolled his eyes.

“She’s not my girl and she’s a grown woman, she can do what she wants,” he said tiredly, his voice so monotonous that the words sounded rehearsed. He knew that all his friends knew that they were, and it seemed like everyone but you had caught on to the hopeless romantic act he was hiding.

“Well, she never drinks and she doesn’t look like she’s handling it too well.” And then Bradley’s head whipped to the side, just where he knew you were.

Just as Jake said, you were walking up to the karaoke machine, an equally drunk Natasha by your side as you looked through the selection, no doubt about to pick something obnoxious. You weren’t as alert as you usually were, and it worried him. You hated being out of it, that’s why you never drank. He walked up to you quickly, knowing that if you started a song there was no taking you away until it was over.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Bradley said from behind you, and he saw your shoulders tense. “I think it’s time to wrap it up.”

“Wrap it up?” You slurred, looking up at him with those pretty eyes that always made his heart skip a beat. “Wrap it up?!” Natasha grimaced at you and then at him, already knowing exactly where it was going. “You know who didn’t wrap it up-”

“It’s okay, that’s not what he meant,” Nat rushed out, turning to look at Bradley. Natasha was one of those that could be four times over the legal limit and no one would no. He envied her in that regard. You were clearly the opposite.

“I just wanted to sing a song,” you said, poking Bradley’s firm chest. “You gonna let me sing a song, Rooster?” There was something about the way you said his callsign that had his cheeks going red. You always called him Bradley, except for when you had that one look in your eye, the one that really had him biting his tongue. “You gonna get off that perch and sing with me?”

“I think it’s time to drop you off at your place,” he assured you without even thinking, but he immediately wanted to swallow his own words when Natasha shook her head rapidly.

“I got kicked out,” you hiccuped, giving him a pointed look. “I sleep in your bed, remember?” You had no idea how much he wanted that to be true.

“Not in my bed,” he corrected quickly when Natasha’s brows shot upward. “In my house.”

“Well, you should probably take her home before she starts a song,” Nat whispered. “She was about to pick “Cowboy Casanova”, that was going to be a disaster.”

He chucked a bit as he touched your arm, his heart fluttering as you looked up at him with your pretty, expressive eyes. His laugh died in his throat. “A-are you ready?”

“Do I get a Bronco ride?”

“You sure do,” he said, and then you two were walking out in the night.

It was easy to get you in the car. You were an easy drunk, just loud. He buckled you up easily and shut the door as you started your own rendition of some Taylor Swift song you had probably told him to listen to.

After your song ended, the ride was quiet. He was happy with the quiet. He was happy because that meant he didn’t have to open his mouth to talk, which meant that he could physically roll his lips shut. Closed lips meant that there was no possibility of him saying something and fucking up a good time. But he couldn’t ignore the fact that you were grinning from ear to ear.

“You’re all smiles now,” he couldn’t help but point out, and he saw you turn towards him.

“You make me smile,” you said easily, still drunk, but it made his heart skip regardless.

Once again, the ride was quiet besides the purring of his Bronco and the occasional blinker noise. Even the music was turned down, but your head was bobbing to some imaginary beat. He couldn't help but make himself see this as a nicer moment than it really was, as a sweeter moment. In reality, he was taking you home because you were about to drunkenly sing a Carrie Underwood song that was going to have you feeling humiliated by the morning. In his mind, he was simply taking you home and making sure you got inside safely. In his mind, it was a simple night, free of drama. There was certainly no cheating boyfriend and no tears.

“What do you dream about?”

Your quiet yet certain tone broke the tension in the atmosphere of his Bronco. “What?”

And then you spoke again, somehow sounding completely sober. “What do you dream about, Bradley?”

“Uh,” he said, feeling his cheeks get a little pink. “I guess it depends.”

“Sometimes I can’t help but wonder-” a small burp escaped your lips— definitely drunk—, “do you ever dream of me?”

His heart stopped. He was so glad you were drunk. There was no way you were going to be able to remember the way he uncharacteristically stuttered or didn’t respond for a few seconds. There was no way you’d remember the flush of his cheeks under the bright light.

“W-what?”

You seemed deadly serious. “Do you ever dream of me?”

“I…” almost to his place. Almost to his place. “I think about you a lot,” he settled on saying, his voice much higher than usual.

“Thinking is nice. I can take thinking as the answer. At least thinking is on purpose,” you reasoned with yourself, seemingly to have forgotten he was even there to begin with. “But dreaming is different.”

He was intrigued. His heart was racing, and his hands felt sweaty on the steering wheel. “How so?”

“Dreaming is you being unable to escape a thought,” you said, and he wondered just how you were managing to get your point across so easily while being so smashed. “Dreaming of someone would mean that you think of them even when you’re not thinking. Your subconscious mind lies with them. It’s deeper.”

You were right. He hadn’t thought about it that way, but you were right. There were plenty of things that he swore he was over that he still had nightmares about and every time they happened, he had to face the music.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is that I really hope you think about me enough to see me in your dreams.”

He couldn’t say anything. What was he supposed to say? That he certainly did, and that every free moment his mind had meant that it was a free for all full of you and everything about you? Hell, he had once even thought about what your next classroom theme could be. You were that embedded into his mind.

“Wait, is it cool that I said all that?” You asked, blinking up at him slowly as the car came to a stop in your driveway. “I just get really in my head sometimes, sorry if I ruined tonight,” you said, shaking your head with a huge smile, as if you didn’t just rock his entire world in a ten minute drive. “Okay, goodnight.” And then you were jumping out of the car.

“Woah,” he called, racing around from his side and picking you up off the ground. You were laughing, clearly not aware that you had just fallen all over the cement of his driveway. You held onto his arm as he walked the both of you up to his front door, and you almost tripped on a crack in the cement.

“My keys.” You had them in your hand, and for a second, he just watched you calmly struggle with that stupid little smile on your face, like you had all the time in the world as the key kept missing the hole that it didn’t even belong to. “Maybe it’s the wrong door.”

He couldn’t help but laugh when he took the keys from you, already halfway forgetting your conversation from earlier. He held onto your keys as he unlocked his door with his own. He opened the door easily and let you in, prepared to tell you goodnight and go right to his room and try to forget the other was right on the other side of the wall, like you two had done so many times before.

“Where ya going?” Before he could even answer, you frowned at him. “You’re ditching me?”

He turned back around. “Do you need help?”

“I’m a big girl, I can take my dress off,” you said with a grin. “But I- I don’t know. I don’t wanna be alone yet.”

“Okay,” he breathed out. “Okay, you don’t have to be alone.”

And so you weren’t. He stood at the doorway of his guest bathroom, the one that had the makeup and pink towel and even a pink rug. He had given up the space to you without second thought, and as he watched you dart around in it and start to take your hair down and take your makeup off, he couldn’t help but feel his heart swell. You looked so comfortable in his house. It was all he ever wanted wrapped up in just one moment.

“Do you wanna know what broke me the most?” You asked out of the blue as you started to wipe your lipstick off, eyes connecting with his in the mirror. You took a deep breath to wind up for the next round of words even without his response. He knew that you were going to talk regardless. It was one of the things he loved about you.

“I wasn’t even sad about the fact that he cheated. I was happy.”

He was thrown on his ass again by you. You had a habit of taking his breath away more than once a day, probably once every two hours or so to be exact, but this was different. You were pulling no punches. You were throwing hand grenades in the form of words tonight, and he wasn’t even sure you were aware of it.

“It gave me an excuse to leave him. But then there was three or so moments and I realized the reason I was okay with it was because I was finally free of guilt, because the whole time I was with him- I’m an awful person,” you started sobbing and you let yourself sink to the floor, sitting on the pink rug. His brows lifted to his forehead for a split second before he went right down to the ground with you, and his hand found your skin and your back soothingly.

“You’re not a bad person, not even close.” He shook his head. You were an angel. He was genuinely convinced of that.

“I wanted you the whole time.” you slurred, eyes wide but not as present as he wanted them to be. Not while you said the exact words that he had been harboring since what felt like the beginning of time. “Almost ever since I met you. And I can’t help but feel sick when I think about how what he did is my karma.”

He was in shock. He didn’t know if he was more surprised about the fact that you were being so open about something that he was so hush-hush about, or about the fact that you said you wanted him. You wanted him. This was something out of his wildest dreams- just as you had predicted. And then he crashed back down to reality and realized you were drunk off your ass in a party dress, so fucked up that your legs were going every which way and your lipstick was smeared.

“Nothing happened, you didn’t do anything wrong,” he said quietly, ignoring the fact that his stomach felt like it was doing a Simone Biles level floor routine.

“But I would’ve,” you admitted, “if you had given me the sign.” Your bottom lip wobbled, and then you were full on sobbing. “I’m a disgusting person. Awful. Oh my god,” you whined, hands over your face as you hyperventilate on his wooden floor.

You were fucked up.

You were so gone, there was no denying that. He forced himself to let the words go in one ear and out the other, and when he took a few deep breaths of his own, he realized that you were still crying.

“You’re not a bad person, I promise.” You didn’t say anything, but after a few moments, he was sure you weren’t going to change your mind. “I think you’ll feel better if we cleaned you up.”

Your mascara was running, your lipstick was still smeared, and you kind of looked like a hot mess, but you were still gorgeous to him. You always would be. You didn’t say anything, and he took a makeup wipe from the counter and without a word started to wipe your face.

It was a silent exchange. Probably because the both of you were too scared to say much else. You let him wipe your face off and then he helped you stand. You let him take your heels off for you. He left for a few seconds and came back with some of your clothes, the nice pajamas he knew you liked to sleep in, and then started the shower and left. You were in and out.

When you were all done, he was sitting at the table. It was late, but he was drinking a beer with his back turned to you. He heard you clear your throat, and he had to stop himself from jumping.

“Goodnight,” you said quietly, and when he said it back, he heard you turn around and walk back to the room he had given you, and the door hut.

He wasn’t going to sleep well at all.

§§

It was Sunday morning. The worst morning for this situation to be happening. If it was a weekday, you would’ve already been gone, at least. He would have had the whole day to think about how to go about it. But it was Sunday morning, and neither of you went to church. You were stuck.

He didn’t expect you to be up. He knew that he could probably walk to the kitchen and be in the living room for most of the morning without you coming out. Your hangover had to be awful. So, he padded out of his bedroom, rubbing his face and going straight to the coffee pot.

That already had coffee in it.

“Hi.” His entire posture changed.

How he had entirely missed you sitting at the table, he didn’t know. But there you were, a cup of coffee in your hands and a small smile on your face.

You were beautiful. He didn’t know how you didn’t look like you were hit by a bud considering how messed up you were last night, but how could you ever? You always looked so out together and so cute. Of course you could smile with a hangover.

“Good morning,” he said, his raspy voice coming out surprised. He was looking at you cautiously, not quite sure if you remembered what happened. “How’d you sleep?”

“Like a baby,” you said, now you were grinning. “It was so nice. Peaceful.” He decided that you definitely didn’t remember a thing, and he relaxed.

He ignored the wave of sadness that came with the loss of tension.

“What about you?” You asked, genuinely wondering, and he sighed. “You have any dreams?” He took a look at you from over the coffee mug he was drinking from. “You know I minored in psych, I love dreams.”

“No, no dreams,” he said, trying to shut out that whole conversation from last night. “I just can’t believe you’re waking up so… happy. Everyone but me and Bob was so drunk.”

“I had a rough night? I cried a lot, huh?” You asked, and he almost laughed in wonder. How did you not realize that he was literally in love with you? How could you forget that the words you said last night were probably the most important ones he had ever heard?

“Yeah, but it’s okay. Everyone has a rough night every once in a while. I’m surprised you don’t have a headache or anything.”

“Yeah. It’s probably canceled out because of the lack of stress I feel now,” you said, and he nodded his head when he assumed that you were talking about shedding the skin of the man that was holding you back. “It was real nice to get all that off my chest.”

He froze.

You were just drinking from your mug, making annotations in your book. He was staring at you with wide eyes as he tried to understand what to make of what you just said. “Thanks for taking my makeup off, too. That would have ruined my skin progress.”

Holy shit, you remembered everything. “What?”

You had to be playing with him. There was no other way. You finally shut your book, and then you leaned forward on your hands and looked at him with your eyes, one of his biggest weaknesses. “I meant everything I said, Bradley.”

“You remember?”

“Yeah, I always do,” you said, shrugging your shoulders. “That's why I don’t drink. I do things I normally wouldn’t but I never have the luxury of forgetting, so I always wake up embarrassed.”

Did you realize that you were holding his heart in your hands? “Are you embarrassed now?” Please don’t be embarrassed that you said those things. Please don’t be embarrassed because they’re not true. God, let it all be true.

“Only if you want nothing to do with me,” you said softly, looking at him with such vulnerability that it made his heart skip a beat.

“Are you kidding?” He finally said, and he knew then that you were right about letting the feeling lift off of his chest. “You’re in my dreams almost every night, that’s gotta count for something.”

You made the first move to get to him. He realized then that you were a master at making the first move- he had only done it once (after striking out twice) but you had done it twice in two days. And then you were all in his space, breaching it with a certain confidence that made him weak in the knees. It made him want to hold you and hold onto you.

“Almost?” you asked, and as he looked down at you from so close up, he knew what he had already suspected to be true; he was a goner. “I want every dream.”

“Who would I be to deny you?” And then he made a move of his own, kissing you and effectively tying the score 2-2.

*******

#bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw fic #top gun maverick #tgm fanfiction #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw fluff #hell yeah mfs #surprised i’m doing all this again especially bc i’m in nursing school so very busy #but here tf i am #my fics #i was not even gonna post this i have a 9 am and it is 12:16 am #please enjoy as best as you can lmao

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 7 months

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Up All Night 4

Warnings: dark elements, noncon, age gap, narcissim, probably name calling and nasty words, other dark elements. Proceed with caution. (older!reader)

Note: I wasn’t serious about this but now I were. Please let me know what you think as it helps me a lot with ideas and I love interacting with you all.

Part of The Club AU

You leave Laing on a hopeful note. He listened to you, something you realise you’re not used to, and promised to give it some thought. It was more than you could say for his meeting with Ransom.

You return to the office and bring your boss his coffee. He clucks as he takes off the lid, “the foam is melted.”

“It was busy,” you shrug, “took a while.”

He sighs and lifts the cup, you see the flicker in his eyes.

“You throw that on me a second time–” you warn him.

“Who are you to threaten me?” He puts the cup down so harshly the coffee sloshes, “huh? To walk into my house, barge in on my life–”

“You had a meeting–”

“You are my assistant, not my mother.”

“That’s too bad. If I was, you might have some sense,” you retort, “now if you’re done having a tantrum.”

“This is not a tantrum. I am not a child.”

You stare at him, holding back a grin. You keep your face placid and say nothing. You’ll let him figure it out on his own, if he can.

“Get out. Go do your job,” he dismisses you with a chop through the air, “you know, I could hire someone with less mileage and nicer ass. Easy.”

You resist the urge to dress him down further. You turn on your heel and promptly march out. You’re certain to snap the door behind you.

You sit at your desk and blow out, long and loud. Sure, he could hire someone younger he could ogle but you guarantee she wouldn’t carry his workload. It might be entertaining to hand in your resignation and see it all go down in flames, but you didn’t work all those years to just walk away because of that upstart.

📚

Ransom leaves before his lunch. That’s hardly unusual. You’re stunned he lasted that long before he slinked out like a rat. Your day goes by like sand in the glass. You take a message from his mother about some family gathering. You add it to his calendar.

You clock out, eager to be home to your bottle of wine and bookmarked episodes. At last, you get a night to unwind from this idiot you call a boss. You’ll be even happier if he takes the next morning off.

As you stop at the intersection, your bluetooth chimes and you press the button on the steering wheel to answer. Drysdale’s name shines from the stereo display. Of course, how could you ever dare to be an optimist. You cluck out a ‘Mr. Drysdale.’

“Uh, hi,” an unfamiliar name comes from the speaker, “it appears Mr. Drysdale has overindulged…”

The deep voice fills the cramped compartment of your car. You scowl. What on earth?

“Who is this? Why are you calling me?”

“Yes, well, I’m Thor. The bartender. I have a man facedown behind my bar and no one else answered–”

“Christ almighty,” you sneer, “where is he?”

The man on the other end gives you the name of the club. The one he frequents often. You’re confused, he knows the owner, so why the hell are you being dragged into this?

“Uh, isn’t that man there… the owner?”

“My brother is away on business,” the man answers.

“You can’t wake him up? Throw some water on him?”

“He’s not responding.”

“Is he even alive?” You chuff out.

The man has the audacity to chuckle, “I’m starting to wonder the same, miss.”

“Ugh, fine, I’m on my way,” you crank the wheel and turn away from your home. Another night ruined by that incompetent editor.

📚

A man with a dark mustache carries Ransom out of the bar like a baby. Your boss’ head dangle back lifelessly and you’re only reassured by the rise and fall of his chest. The grumbly man places him in the back seat as you open the door and thank him. You get no answer, no kindness. Funny how it goes away with the years.

You bend his legs so he fits and slam the door. What now? Ransom’s house is about twenty minutes further than your place. You could just leave him in the car but that might be a crime. You get in the driver’s seat and pull off, undecided as you approach the corner.

Left or right.

You turn the wheel and sigh. The day has been long enough. You can’t drive another forty minutes and back. Still, you foresee the regret of your decision.

As you drive, your incapacitated passenger begins to snore. Murmurs that don’t make much sense between kicking your door as he rolls around. He whines as you turn onto your street, the lights flickering through the windows.

“Turn off the light!” He babbles, “mom, go away!”

You shake your head. Is this arrested development? Ransom Drysdale may just be the perfect specimen for a psychological study.

You pull into your spot and get out. Fuck. You open the back door and pull Ransom up to a sitting position. His head lolls but he manages to support himself a little. You’re not the strongest but dammit if you’re not stubborn.

You sling his arm over your shoulders and haul him up. You stagger and angle him against the side of the car as you shut the door. You fish your keys out and get them firmly in hand. You pull him away and make a slow advance towards the entrance.

You’re out of breath by the time you get to the elevator. You let him rest against the metal rail mounted on the wall and wait for your floor. You look at him, his cheeks flushed with alcohol, his eyes sleepy, lashes fluttering.

“You’re a fucking moron. You know that?” You mutter.

He mewls but you don’t expect he understands. The doors slide open and you get him to his feet again. You drag him, back aching, thighs burning. Down the endless halls, you rant.

“A spoiled fucking brat. You don’t deserve any of this. You are the worst person I’ve ever met. Repulsive and stupid and entitled.”

“Mmm, yeah, gimme more,” he mutters as you get him to your condo door. The remark is as close to lucid as he’s been.

“Shut up,” you sigh and unlock your door.

You get him inside and drop him onto the couch. His arm flies out and hits the coffee table. You put your hands on your hips and glare down at him. Great. That wine is staying corked.

“Tell me I’m a bad boy again,” he giggles as his head lolls and reaches to play with his messy hair, “please…”

You grimace and pull the throw blanket onto him. You back up and make sure the door is lock. You step out of your heels and stretch out your arms as you pass the couch again. He’s already snoring.

You can’t quite decide if you want him to choke on his own puke or not. A girl can always dream.

#ransom drysdale #dark ransom drysdale #dark!ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #drabble #au #the club #up all night #knives out #series

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anjaelle · 1 year

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The Consequence of Pride

Pairing: Tangerine x Black!Reader

Warnings: Guns, Gore, Glass injury, Attempted murder

Word Count: 1.3K (a shorty)

A/N: Something I threw together on my phone in the middle of the night because I couldn't sleep. Tried to check for errors and such.

(gif source)

The humor of the situation wasn't lost on him.

Two men lay in a puddle of their own blood just a few feet away, with their brains painting the vibrant blue wallpaper behind them. When you told him that you shot the assailants and then tripped and fell into the glass shards of the broken coffee table, he laughed. He couldn't help it. It just slipped out. He apologized until you let out a tiny affronted gasp which made him guffaw even harder.

"I hate you." "Uh huh."

"I'm going to shave your mustache off in your sleep."

"Bit dramatic, innit?"

You let out a low grunt as he pulled a few smaller shards of glass out of your hand with a tweezer and tossed them aside. "That noise sounds familiar."

"Shut up, Tangerine."

You watched him furrow his brows as he sprayed the antiseptic on your hand and you whined at the sting. He was never surprised at how easily you were able to hold your own. But you also had a surprisingly low pain tolerance and an even lower tolerance for bullshit.

"I know, sweetness, I'm almost done."

As usual, he could see right through you. Despite the fact that you stood in the remains of your once beloved housewarming gift, all he could focus on was the way your lower lip jutted out pitifully and the way you clenched your good fist in anger. He wrapped your leg up in a gauze to cover up the bleeding cuts after pulling glass out of your thigh.

You were dressed in a red satin pajama set that Tangerine bought you from Dubai that you were excited to finally show him after not seeing him for over a month. Luckily, the blood stains weren't obvious, but the shorts didn't protect you from the glass. And your first night with him was definitely ruined.

"I still can't believe you laughed at me." You mumbled as he kissed the palm of your hand through the bandage. You couldn't let that go. You were injured and in distress, and your boyfriend had the audacity to let out a little giggle...a little "tee-hee" over your clumsiness.

"C'mon, it's a little funny. It's kinda funny, baby. Admit it." He raised his brows at you.

"No."

He clicked his teeth and shook his head, "Gotta work on getting a better sense of humor."

You pretended to bristle at him when he kissed your forehead, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing you liked the attentiveness.

He ignored your antics, gently lifting your head up to inspect your face. He tilted your head to the left and then the right, looking for any surprise injuries. He’d taken the time to clean the dried blood from your face.

“It’s not mine,” you clarified, glancing at the bloodied wall, “It’s asshole number 2’s.”

You couldn’t really tell what was going on in his head. His eyes expressed a mix of anger and concern about the situation at large. They’d come here with the intention to hurt or take you. He knew that much.

The question was why and how they knew where you were. You hadn’t worked a job in ages. They clearly thought you’d be off your game, but they were quickly proven wrong. He glanced over at the bodies in the apartment foyer.

“How long did that take?”

Time seemed to slow down during the struggle. It could’ve been 2 minutes or 2 hours between the time they barged in and the time you were plucking glass shards from your elbow. You told him as much.

“So…what the hell happened?” He questioned casually. He took step back to look you over in full.

“They pretended to be delivery men. I know, don’t give me that face. I ordered dinner for us and they showed up. I took out asshole number one first. Asshole number two tried to fight me. Me! You know I’m not that great at fighting.” You fidgeted with your anxious hands as you spoke, remembering the adrenaline you felt as you and the assailant struggled to take each other out, “He lunged at me, but missed and crashed into the coffee table. I tried to get to the gun, but he got back up and grabbed me by my hair.”

Your gun was kicked under the couch in the scuffle, so you had to improvise. “We were fighting again. Next thing I knew, I had his gun and—bam.” You mimed a headshot with your hand.

As you spoke, Tangerine looked around the apartment as if following the story in his head. He hummed, “Taking out two men on your own in little Jim-Jams. You’re kinda scary sometimes.”

“Don’t try to flatter me after you laughed at me.”

He rolled his eyes.

“You know who did it?” Once he was sure that everything was calm and you were okay, he took off his suit jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt to move the frame of the coffee table out of the way.

You watched him from your plush purple couch, perpetually pleased that you didn’t really have to lift a finger while he was around. Even as you crossed your legs to get comfortable, you ignored the sting of pain in your thigh where the glass dug into your skin, “I dunno. They didn’t have any IDs or easily identifiable tattoos on their arms. I wasn’t really interested in examining them.”

You grimaced at the thought of touching their cold, dead bodies.

“You seem pretty fuckin’ calm about all of this shit.” He said, kneeling down to sweep up the broken glass, “I need to report it, y’know. Someone’s gotta be looking for them.”

“It’s not the first attack. Probably won’t be the last. I’m a hot commodity, babe.”

He shot you a tired look and you grinned proudly at his annoyance with you.

“I called the cleanup crew to come.” You added in a mocking tone, throwing your voice and putting on his accent, “So, yes, I was responsible, bruv.”

“I don’t sound like that, you dick.”

“Mhm, you do.”

He swept up the last of the glass and raised his brows at you, then threw his voice to match yours, “Shut up Tangerine, stop laughing at me. I’m overly sensitive and hot with a princess complex.”

You matched his expression and he grinned at you.

“Whose fault is that? Hmm.” You asked, motioning at him. He let out a loud laugh, tossing his head back and leaving to dump the glass.

“Fair enough.”

You sat curled up next to him on the couch while the cleanup crew moved the bodies and tried their best to get the blood out of your wood and wallpaper. You already knew it was a lost cause. Despite the actual gore being washed off, there was still a tinge of pink visible on it. He’d finally showered and changed into joggers and a t-shirt, tying his hair up. His hand rested lazily on your upper thigh, gently rubbing circles into your skin. You’d showered too, forgoing the cutesy pajamas he bought you and choosing just a plain concert tee and shorts. The plushie he bought you from Seoul sat tucked between your knees, and you felt fully comfortable for the first time in hours.

“Sweetness…” he mumbled tiredly.

You stopped scrolling through your phone, “Hmm?”

“Be honest,” he gave your thigh a light squeeze and a small smack, “did you break the coffee table?”

“No…yes.”

You couldn’t see his face, but you heard the rumble of another giggle in his chest.

“How’d you do that?”

You let out a long sigh, knowing you were gonna regret this for the rest of your life. “I was doing a victory dance. And I tripped over the couch leg and fell. In my defense, it was already cracked from when the other guy fell into it.”

The giggle turned into a full blown laugh and you couldn’t even be mad about it. It was a stupid way to get injured. An embarrassing way to get injured, even. He leaned down and pressed a few kisses to your forehead.

“Thank God. I fuckin’ hated that table.”

#tangerine x reader #tangerine x black!reader #aaron taylor johnson x black!reader #aaron taylor johnson x reader #jaelle writes #aaron taylor johnson

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borzoilover69 · 11 months

Text

> BORZOI: READ HOMESTUCK LIKE ITS 2011 (PART 4)

(4256) THERE HE IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ HELLO MY BEAUTIFUL LITTLE SCIENCE PROJECT! HELLO DEAREST!! ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ WOJAK POINT WOJAK POINT THEYRE CONVERSING!

I'm throwing popcorn at my screen and laughing my ass off HEY COOLKID is this you? Hahah. Hehe. Hahaha. I'm not falling for your tricks cool kid.

BURST OUT LAUGHING. THE WAYYYS THAT THE JAKE AND DIRK GET JANES GOAT ABOUT THINGS GOOD LOOORD. Jane jabs at Jake at grammar and stuff, Dirk does it with Jane, just little consistencies in friendship is what they're so endearing for. They're like "uh huh. yep. you certainly used that word. mhm." *judging*. But in an ENDEARING way ok. The "that sure was a phrase you used".

This is important!! Also this reminds me you should probably go talk to Hal here it's trained off dialog from the comic and as of this post stands at a staggering 14.1k messages! I always like to see what people say to him (when they send it) and he can be really funny!

I haven't checked on him for a hot minute so the accuracy is to be determined but look! Here's him right now! Go talk to him!

4257

What is. What is blud doing in the background. I like to think seb has an inner monologue similar to dirk striders where hes like going "This thing needs to be moved. Geez Jane, this place is a mess." or "I'm awake and ready to serve fucker." You get the gist. Inner monologue going crazy as he works but being full aware ain't nobody hearing his cool wittisms. Janes expression is completely valid lmfao

Here is another moment of Jane casting doubt on her abilities. And here's where Dirk talks.. about his ancestor for the first time. You know what I guess I can bring up the post where I went over.. dirks jealousy of Dave and self internalisation of that hate? To be honest I'm surprised it got the attention it did. Its been something that I thought about for so long but I never brought it up because it felt and still does to a merit "taboo". Nobody really talks about what admiration can do on the flip side, how it can make you measure yourself up, make you feel attached in a way that provides you with a flip flop between intense aspiration to despisal and envy.

Except.. that isn't exactly true. As I pointed out before, Jane casts doubt on her ability to live up to her ancestors legacy, even if it's just a joking legacy.

You fancy yourself a SKILLED PRANKSTRESS, if by no other measure than lineage. Though at times you feel it's tough to fill those shoes when you are SURROUNDED BY JOKERS. Seriously, the shenanigans perpetrated by your pals make your old school japes feel KIND OF PEDESTRIAN SOMETIMES,

Poppop Crocker was a LEGENDARY COMEDIAN, following in the footsteps of his grandfather who of course was the greatest southern pranking legend of all time. One day, you hope to follow in poppop's too.

GG: Maybe I'm just stuck in the dark ages of pranksterism with my funny mustaches corny old joke book.

Jane and Dirks parts are equal parts jokes as it is thinly veiled inner conflict of ideas they have about themselves and their role. Dirk is sort of ironic in how seriously he takes his irony. Which means it's not really as ironic as he thinks it is.

4258 goes hard.

TT: Ever hear of Con Air?GG: Nope.GG: Wait...GG: Wasn't that some bit of action schlock from the 90's?TT: Yes. GG: Some of the silly nonsense referenced in his work was well before my time. I don't have the wherewithal to investigate all this minutia. TT: Yeah, it doesn't matter really. But it was from that. Dude weirdly obsessed over that shit movie for years, among others.TT: Know those signature shades you see him wearing on magazine covers and stuff? Another prop. A gift from Stiller himself, I believe.

You know this seems like an old man gay yaoi issue. Now why EXACTLY dear sir.. were you obsessed with the very movie that your best friend had as a favourite? You know it's tragic. Alpha Dave SHOULDVE banged that old man.

You know one of you guys will have a field day analysing this piece of text and I know it, you know it, so put on your goggles spaceman.

4259

I'm not going to provide screenshots, but this is where Seb starts getting antsy, and Dirk says that Jane will be the leader of their group, drawing parallels to page 2682 where John and Rose are talking about their null session, unable to get any further.

TT: This session was never meant to bear fruit. TT: It's barren, so to speak. EB: that's a bit of a bummer! EB: i am still skeptical about that, though. TT: That's why you're our leader, John. EB: huh? TT: Optimism through stalwart skepticism is a defect not everyone is lucky enough to be cursed with. EB: that's stupid. EB: i'm not your leader, i am your FRIEND, there is a BIG difference! TT: Statements like that are also why you're our leader. EB: pff. EB: laaaaaaaame. TT: Yes, kind of.

But in Dirks, he chooses it because he thinks thats "the thing to do"

TT: I'm sure you must be aware by now that you'll be the leader of our group, as you will be the first to enter the session. GG: Um, no? GG: This is news to me. I never gathered that "team leader" was a thing for this game. TT: Trust me. It's a thing. GG: Are you sure? I have my doubts. GG: I believe as a group we will have the temerity to succeed, without my having to order people around like an insufferable bossypants. TT: That's why you're our leader, Jane. GG: Hm? TT: Optimism through stalwart skepticism is an affect not everyone is plucky enough to be graced with. GG: That's stupid! TT: Yeah yeah. I know. TT: You're not our leader, you're our FRIEND, right? GG: Precisely! GG: There is a BIG difference! TT: And statements like that are also why you're our leader. TT: But only in name and in spirit. Less so, functionally. TT: If it puts your mind at ease, I'll be the one pulling the strings here.

This reads to me a lot as something he orchestrated, something he thought up to look cool, but what's the point of saying all this shit when you say afterwards you're just going to say that she's controlling none of it and really it's just you (which really, in the end it wasn't). Jane points out a pretty good point about there not being a true LEADER leader, and Dirk just plows on. He proceeds to have a long and eyeroll worthy emphasis about how much he can serve, how good he is at it, how Jane only has to call and he'll come to the rescue, not to worry at ALL. I mean i have to laugh. Here he is emphasising how much he can serve and he can't. He can't at all. Pushing someone in a direction does not always equal helping. His suggestions are befitting his aspect sure, but doesn't always mean it's the right solution!

4261-64 moving on.

The dads are always so incredibly endearing. ANd i love when janey does the lil. :| at people like giiirll me too! Absurd whimsy everywhere. Hey look at lil seb g-

4266 OH NO NOT THERE LITTLE SEB!! GOOD LAWRD.

Dad crocker is incredibly funny to me i will tell you why in a hot second

GET IUT JANE!! ALL OF THIS IS MALAAARKEY!! Even now quite a few of her friends are being INCREDIBLY silly to this girl from a normal childhood growing up in a normal time!! Egads!!

Reminds me of the times where I was travelling around ( i travel a lot majority of my friends expect im outside constantly) and they swore i just wasnt real because i show up in random places that contradict each other and go missing for weeks only to be found on some desert island hunting crabs.

But anyways

4271- 4273

Sorry i dont have much to say just imagine me with the goofiest smile on my face.. like <:}... Like ah.. yes.

Nearby, someone or something bleats like a goat for strategic purposes.

And also

Ironic purposes.

.... :} !!!

Look.. heehee... hes so :D!! His bes friend... :3 Silly..

4282 THEY DONE KILLED OFF THE MOST WHIMSICAL GIRL!

4283 ITS SO OVER.

[ END OF ACT 6 ACT 1 ] ?! Hey wait what does this mean for us. hey wait what does this mean hey wai-

[ screen cuts to BLACK with cue card with words "HUSSLE" in comic sans. ]

4299 panel goes hard? So does 4303

JADE: witch powers can teleport things, and fling things around through space at very high velocities JADE: all sorts of stuff! JADE: but to be honest, im not sure how much of that is attributable to inheriting becs abilities... JOHN: man, spacey witch powers sound a lot more versatile than my powers, frankly. JOHN: not that i'm complaining, because wind powers are still awesome. JOHN: but anyway, that is neither here nor there!

I'll leave you on this piece of dialog to consume. I'll see you all in the next part. As always anons and comments are appreciated. Thanks for reading!

#homestuck #hom3stuck #homestuck meta #borzoi meta #borzoi reread #borzoi talks #jane crocker #jake english #dirk strider #john egbert #jade harley

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hrodvitnon · 2 months

Note

On Godzilla's voice, cuz I've seen a few people weigh in on it:

I do like the Kratos idea. Fits very well and I hadn't actually heard that as his headcanon voice before. I've actually heard and had this exact conversation a lot with people lol, so here's some other ones I've heard as well as my own personal HC for this.

Surprisingly, I've heard Iron Bull more for Goji than I have Kong. Granted, in the same breath I've also heard Ramon Tikaram (voice of Godrick in Elden Ring, Ramattra in Overwatch, someone from FF16 who's name I can't remember and doesn't show up on IMDB, and most importantly Dorian Pavus from DA:I) as Ichi's voice. I actually really vibe with Ichi sounding like Dorian just because I think it's funny, but yeah I can also see why you'd have him sounding much more menacing having written Abraxas. Also the implication of Goji being Bull and Ichi being Dorian is equally funny to me.

A long time ago someone made the connection between Mothra and Aerith from FF7 and that has lived in my head rent free for so long that I can never unhear it. Had a brief period when I thought of Goji sounding like Cloud, eventually abandoned that for my actual HC in the next paragraph.

The voice I personally hear him with is Daisuke Tsuji's Jin Sakai from Ghost of Tsushima. Someone (I think it was Dougherty, can't remember exactly tho) once described Legendary Goji's personality as 'The Last Samurai' archetype, and I guess that really stuck with me when I played Tsushima. Jin's just general- everything- in that game reminds me of Goji a lot. He's protecting his domain from those that seek to conquer it or do it harm, calm and stoic with rare bursts of emotion, can occasionally be snarky or humorous with people he trusts, etc. Idk he just really does it for me lol.

(just now checking his imdb and realizing he also voiced Scorpion in the newest mortal kombat and a fortnite character lmfao)

Y'know, I've only ever heard the Japanese dub for Ghost of Tsushima (I keep forgetting there's an English dub), but I'd say Jin's Japanese VA might be good for Goji as well. I wanna say Gareth Edwards was the one who made the samurai comparison? It feels appropriate considering Goji was characterized as old and tired in 2014.

...Aaaaaand now I'm picturing a gijinka Ichi trying to grow out some facial hair appropriate of his Kingly Status and ends up with Dorian's silly hipster 'stache and nobody takes him seriously because of it. (Ni gets mutton chops and San a goatee; they only have a full beard if they're in one body.)

"TAKE ME SERIOUSLY, DAMMIT!"

"Uh-oh! Look out, guys, Hipster McObscure from the 2010s is mad about the mainstream! He's gonna wear a scarf ironically because it's warm outside!"

"I'M TRYING TO GO FOR CAREY ELWES CIRCA ROBIN HOOD: MEN IN TIGHTS! I DON'T KNOW WHY I HAVE A CURLY MUSTACHE!!"

#tosho89 #frostbite814

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camels-pen · 9 months

Text

a little treat

Summary: Vlad just wants a little treat.

(I know it's been like a month and a half since the actual anniversary day, but better late than never amiright? happy 2nd anniversary catboy vlad <3)

Ao3 Link

“Purina, Purina…” Vlad mumbled to himself.

“Excuse me?”

Vlad glanced to his left. A slightly shorter man with a rather impressive mustache was staring intently at him. “Yes?”

“Do you know where the puzzle toys are?”

Vlad furrowed his brow. Took in the man’s appearance, particularly the key chain sticking out of his pocket. He nodded slowly. “The last aisle at the other end of the store.”

“Right, thank you.”

The man was about to leave when Vlad said, “Hold on a moment, please.” He gestured at the shelves. “Do you know where the Purina Fancy Feast cat treats are?”

“Uh, no idea.” The man turned to leave with a wave. “Good luck with that though.”

Vlad grabbed his shoulder. “Trying to shirk your duties? Not that I care, just help me and I won’t tell your boss.”

“What boss?”

“The manager. The supervisor. The GM. Your boss, you incompetent moron,” Vlad hissed. “Now get on with it. Where are the treats?”

“Hey,” The man practically growled. “I don’t work here. And if I did. I would not sell you shit.”

“A likely story. Now hurry up, tut tut.”

“How about I complain to your boss instead?” The man turned around and stomped towards the register.

“Ha ha, very funny. You should be a comedian.”

The man paused. “Well why else would you have those ears and tail accessories if you didn’t work here?”

Vlad froze. He reached up and felt the side of his cat ear. There was also a pressure against the back of his pants. Oh dear.

“Unless…” A sharp, fanged grin grew on the man’s face. “You’re a real cat person?”

Ugh. Vlad wasn’t in the mood for mocking or flirting at the moment. Time for a brief duplicate and overshadowing—

The man was growing. Why was the man growing.

Taller and taller and furrier and furrier, the man kept growing and changing until a brown furred werewolf that towered over the aisles was before him.

Without even noticing, Vlad’s tail was tucked between his shaking legs and his ears were pressed tightly to his head.

“You know,” the wolfman said. “Maybe I should work here. I think they need extra security.”

Vlad chuckled lightly, pulling at his collar. “Well, it was an honest mistake of course. A man with a keychain always looks so… employable.”

“You thought I worked here. Because of this.” The man held up a Hello Kitty keychain. “I’m wearing an undershirt and slides!” he roared. “Slides!”

As the man pitched forward to run on all fours, Vlad screamed and flew, literally flew, out of the shop, deeply regretting that he chose today of all days not to get delivery.

#danny phantom #catboy vlad #vlad masters #<3

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marinersubmariner · 1 year

Text

At the risk of exposing myself as a complete nutjob, I wanted to share how many screencaps I Frankensteined together for my last manip because I think it’s funny in an embarrassing kind of way (or uh… “resourceful”). I have such particular visual requirements that I went pretty overboard for what is ultimately totally mundane imagery. I just wanted so badly for it to look real and new and canonverse! To comfort myself in these trying times!

Apologies to Galen and Lyra Erso for bodysnatching. I almost didn’t change the clothing colors because I thought ehhhh I don’t wanna overdo it, but uh. Clearly that’s a strange place to draw the line after all THIS. So as with all of my emotional support scenarios Ben has to wear blue and Rey has to wear green. I can, should, must, and will cater to my own exact aesthetic specifications. As a treat.

Yes I had to carefully select and place every bit of flyaway hair. It was important.

I also gotta say that removing Adam Driver’s garbage facial hair is a CHORE and I now have a great deal of sympathy for the poor schmucks who had to paint out Henry Cavill’s mustache in Justice League. It’s so difficult to do photorealistic facial reconstruction with matching lighting and angles and it never looks right!! But I simply cannot abide Ben Solo with facial hair, I’m sorry. That’s part of the reason I didn’t like Adam Driver’s face before Star Wars. :( He has a head of hair like an angel but the facial hair of a villain. The duality of man

#reylo #i'm belatedly realizing this looks like a serial killer's murder wall #well. it's good to have hobbies

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scimitar-and-longsword · 2 months

Text

Lolo plays Call of Duty Modern Warfare (2019) for the first time, part 7! (Final part!!)

(this is an fps. Warnings for war, guns, violence and death. Dead dove etc etc.)

Mission 12: Old Comrades

What does this title mean???

I already said this in the previous post, but Price without a beard is so funny to me 😂

I love that like... Deep sniff??? That price does sometimes. Lol.

I had to restart because a door wouldn't open lol

I died.

Try 2: "I'm tracking you" "how?" "By gunshots of course" 😂 ok Nikolai, I didn't really know anything about you, but I'm feeling it.

I wrote almost nothing. That was so stressful!!

Yeah I opted out of that...

No way I was gonna watch them threaten a kid if I didn't have to.

You tell 'em Kyle. I mean, I get it Price... But also...

Mission 13: Going Dark

Price. You can't just send me in alone! I am a tiny baby! I don't know what the fuck I'm doing!!!and I died.

Try 2: fuck i died again...

Try 3: and again

Try 4: and again

I gotta say, I do love all the little canned responses Price has when he sees you kill someone or when he takes out a light.

Me: uses 10x more ammo than needed to take out a single guy.

Price: good shot.

Me: thanks I'm actually a pro.

Try 5: ok I got a lot further this time. But having to toggle the night vision goggles is really hard lol.. so I got blinded and died.

Try 6: they keep surrounding me!!!!

Try 7:ok I finally got to Hadir!

Why do people I'm playing keep falling off of burning wreckage????

And in Tunnels that are collapsing!!!!

Ok but we got Hadir out.

Mission 14: Into the Furnace

Look at Price's slutty little walk with his arms out lol

Price knew Alex would be with Farah... We all know. 😎

"If barkov there. He's mine." Girl me too!

NICEEEE I'm playing Alex again.

Ok I got very far before dying lol

Try 2: listen I already know how this ends.... So each time I die as Alex I'm just a little sad...

Try 3: holy shit this big dude is impossible to kill!!

Oh no no no 😭😭😭😭

Alex 😭😭😭😭

(do I know that in some way, he comes back in another game.... Yes... But do I know the particulars? No. And I really like Alex... I don't want to watch him die)

"you're a freedom fighter Alex"

"you're a born leader Farah. Say the word."

😭😭😭😭😭

Ok back to Gaz!!

I died twice in rapid succession. So uh...

Try 5: i-

Ok...

Try 6: lol

Oh gosh dang it!!

Try 7: this really is the last level, huh??? Lol

Oh my GOD!

Try 8: I can't even move a STEP.

Try 9:

Farah you clever clever girl!!!!!!

Ah, too quick lol

Try 10: dang it again???

Try 11: So crawling towards Barkov is no... Running toward him is no.... Maybe just wait???

Try 12: ok that didn't work lol

What do I DO???

Oh. I feel stupid now lol

Got em!!

Buh bye Barkov.

Did I... Did I just finish that game??

Oh Alex... He's got a stellar mustache, I'm sad to see it go...

Ohhhhh task force 141 being formed 💕💕💕

Gaz, Soap, and Ghost. There they are!!!

Final thoughts???

I had a lot of fun!

Thank you for indulging me lol

Now I know more about that characters... Still feel like I have to play the second game before I write any fanfic, but hey. I guess I could write some Alex/Farah??? Or Price/Gaz???

#lolo cod playthrough #cod #modern warfare #tw: war #tw: guns #lolo rambles

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mvshortcut · 1 year

Note

aha, so you don’t have to do all of these but I thought I’d ask anyway…

-Reynie for 24? -Constance for 30? -Kate for 28? and just for the fun of it, Crawlings or Jeepers (your choice) for 10?

Reynie - 24. What do you think is a secret they have that they never told anyone?

Ok listen. I know this is not true. But it would be so incredibly funny if Reynie secretly hates tea and at this point he's in too deep to tell anyone. It's a bonding mechanism for them all okay he can't ruin it -

Constance - 30. The funniest scene they had?

Ohh god how can I pick?? Her dramatic poem reading, her whole introductory scene, "The Doomed to Fail Club," literally every single one of her one-liners, the fact that she was literally about to pour acid on Curtain's feet,

Also for Book Constance, the scene where she bravely chews up the licorice that was on the bottom of Kate's shoe to save her from being discovered by Jackson. Also when she bites Crawlings. Warms my heart.

AND the entirety of her poem at the end of Book 3: "Why I Find Green Plaid So Annoying, And What I Intend to Do about It: An Explanation of My Heroic Actions." It's simply a literary masterpiece

Kate - 28. The most unnecessary thing they ever did?

Listen I could come up with a billion headcanons for unnecessary things Kate does. Like half of the things she does are ridiculously unnecessary in a very Kate-like way <3. So I'm gonna limit myself to canon for this one:

Show: Please why did Kate build a to-scale model of the entire island out of thousands of matchsticks just to determine that they should check out a little inlet. Like! It's a masterpiece! It's a work of art! It was so unnecessary! I am holding her in the palm of my hands gently! (Also how did she even get the data for this. Like the elevation and the coastline shape! Incredible.)

Book: AKFSDHKAJ UHHHH HOW ABOUT TRAINING HERSELF TO REGURGITATE STUFF JUST FOR FUNSIES?? like ultimately it was super useful but uhhhh girl what. that sounds super dangerous and uncomfortable and she was doing it just 'cause. icon

Crawlings - 10. Describe the character in one sentence

"Stonks: Uh oh! Local Businessman taking out his laser pointer after getting "ur mom'd" by Milligan for the 57th time in an hour; experts say there is a "99.98% chance he is about to burn off his remaining eyebrow," more at 11!"

Jeepers - 10. Describe the character in one sentence

"My boss keeps me around because I'm the only person alive that's more of a loser than he is: a story of a shattered man, a secure perimeter, and one glorious mustache."

#jeepers #jeffers #reynie muldoon #constance contraire #kate wetherall #crawlings #ask game #tmbs #thank you for the ask!!<33 #I had too much fun with this #also never worry about sending too much I love to ramble and I love to inflict my opinions upon others

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brandnewhuman · 1 year

Note

Hey pookie it’s ya boy @what-are-you-willing-to-do I wanted to do a mash up 😍

I’m 5’11 275 pounds so I’m a big bitch 😍. I’ve got really curly hair that I wanna dye half blonde. (Fun fact I want a mustache 😭) and I’m an INTP with a shit ton of anger issues. I have depression, severe adhd, social anxiety, ied and I’m getting screened for autism. I’m usually really sweet with people I don’t know like sickly sweet but around people I’m close with I’m really funny and raunchy. I usually try to be really serious but end up goofing off because that’s who I am. BIG METAL HEAD. I’ll send you my fucking playlist bro like fr- I’d like to dress up 80s trade goth but usually just go simple with a metal t shirt and jeans. And uh yeah that’s the basics knock yourself out 😍

(If your still doing them of course-)

I paired you up with...

♡ Michael Myers ♡

(Rz version)

ONE OF MY FELLOW GREMLIN COMRADE HAS REQUESTED A MATCHUP? FROM MOI? LET'S FUCKING GOOOOO

This unit of a man is a big stronk boy at the whopping height of 6'8. Personally, my size kink wouldn't allow me a single day of peace with someone like him

I thought about giving you Bo but it didn't end up convincing me as much as our myers babygirl here. I did a quick search and this version of Michael is a isfp which are likely to get along with your mbti type

About the anger issues this can seem like out of character but this Michael is the calmest out of all three but he does have his fair share of anger. I feel like he would understand more deeply how does it feels and in some way knows how to and to not react when you're angry, and even how to help you to calm down. He's as always a man of few (he doesn't talks) words but he communicates so much through small actions. Like I genuinely think his love language is being there when you feel the most sad or bad, doing what he wish someone would've done to him when he was feeling like shit.

You being sweet with people you don't know it's probably what saved you from being killed. This man has never known an ounce of actual kindness besides from his mom so to find someone who treats him like he's an actual human being with emotions is a pretty big deal. He knew he was gonna stick around the moment he first laid his eyes on you. Appreciates the funny side too, you kind of make him feel more alive and energetic. He likes the fact you trust him and like him enough to be this relaxed around him and even if you can't see it bc the mask he smiles quite a lot when he's around you

SEND ME YOUR PLAYLIST I WANNA SEEEE. Have you seen this man? You can not tell me he's not a metal head too, maybe he tends to like more classic rock but he enjoys how hard and aggressive metal music is. He will definitely pester you into listen to music with him and occasionally will come back home after killing with posters of your favourites for you. He finds music as a way to bond with you and tries to make you listen to songs that have some sort of meaning for him so you can get to know him without the need to get all personal

Help this man to dress better cause all that height and that pretty face deserve pretty outfits. Would love things like band tees or band sweaters ecc he really just allows you to do with him what you will as long as you don't try any funny business by pulling off his mask.

BRO I HOPE YOU LIKE IT. IM SORRY ITS TOO SHORT BUT I'VE TRIED MY BEST

Song recommendation time!!

#slasher fandom #slasher community #slashers #slasher fanfiction #slasher x reader #slasher headcanons #horror movies #michael myers #rz michael myers x reader #rz michael myers #slasher #slasher matchups #rz halloween

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theknightmarket · 1 year

Text

I did a tier list of the Markiplier Egos, so I thought I’d share it here – and, yes, perhaps some of these ratings indicate who I like to write, sue me. So, bottom to top, here it is:

Actor: Super Hell

I goddamn hate Actor, as you could probably figure out. He’s a prissy bitch, who deserved everything that came to him. Okay, that might’ve been a bit of an exaggeration, but Jesus Christ do I hate him, mainly for causing Damien’s death, plus everything else, but mainly that. He deserves less than Super Hell, but that is the bottom of the barrel.

E-Boy Mark: F

Reminded me too much of my boy Bing, and I did Not like it. Plus, I have the same tiger pattern on one of my jackets, and I did not want to be associated with this E-Boy. So, F tier.

Ed Edgar: F

I hate babies. Simple as that. Props for being a cowboy aesthetic, but that mustache knocked him back down into F tier.

Derek Derekson: F

Need I say anything? He’s abusive and a bitch, and I care too much about my baby Eric to put him any higher. I would put him lower, but Super Hell is reserved for Actor. F.

Silver Shephard: E

I haven’t seen anything about him, except for the skit with all the other egos, in which I also did not see much. Cool costume, but no clue. E.

Dr. Iplier: E

Again, not much. To be honest, both of the Egos in the E tier are ones I haven’t seen much of but know about. Hence, the doctor is here. Nice catchphrase, E tier.

Yandereiplier: D

The animation is cool, I’ve always liked horror-blood elements, and the pictures of Yandere have the red hair, which I am a fan of. However, the game itself is a point down, and he is only for the sim, so D tier.

King of the Squirrels: D

A classic start to the Ego train, so points given, but points taken away because I am not a huge fan of peanut butter. Squirrels I love, though, so again. Hence, D tier.

Bill: C

Okay, so I haven’t seen the video he comes from actually, but I did see one clip of him saying ‘Oh, honey, no’ and, boy, did I feel flustered, and I don’t even know why! It was just weirdly sweet and reflects the kinda stuff you see in my S tiered Egos. But, alas, he’s not all that common in videos, so C.

Bim Trimmer: C

I don’t know either, man, he’s just a funny guy. The image I have for him is so stupid, and he’s Bim Trimmer??? C’mon. C tier.

The Colonel: C

Being separate from Wilford, he’s kinda lacking in substance compared to him, but I get it. Cuckolded a dude, which isn’t a great start, but it’s Actor, so I don’t care. Says ‘bully’, which is fun, but he does kill the viewer, so points off for him, putting him in C.

Google(s): C

Might be influenced by my having a fic in the works for him, but I am also a sucker for AI, android stuff. Plus, the fanart I see for him is always cute. Him being rude to Bing takes him down a notch, though, so C.

Heehoo: C

The concept of this guy is so funny to me – like, Jesus Christ, the Markiplier runs into the wild, completely naked, save for maybe shoes, of all things, and is fine??? The long hair pushes it over D, but the lack of a voice keeps him in C.

The Nightguard: C

It’s mainly for the musical itself, and that one moment when he leans in and says ‘I killed a guy’ because obviously. Not to mention it’s Mark singing. However, this one can be excluded from being an ego because it is basing off of a pre-established character. So, C tier.

Captain Magnum: C

I haven’t gone through his ending yet in AHWM (sue me, I got Yancy first), but I do love pirates ;) but I don’t love beards. Personal preference, it just takes away from the face. Basically, the aesthetic alone brings it into C tier.

Annus: B

Now, I did watch, uh, [redacted] – catch my favorite video being the A.I generated basically fanfictions – and I loved the whole concept of it! The ending, especially during covid, kinda helped me get used to death and the idea of having to die in the end. However, some of this does not extend to the ego of Annus. I feel like there was a lot more they could have done with both Annus and Unus, but I understand that most of the audience would not have wanted it to be fully cryptid and ARG-esque, so B is both the lowest and highest I can go with him. I do love suits, though.

Eric Derekson: B

I have seen next to nothing about this boy! And I love him :D! He’s just so cute in everything I’ve seen and read. Solid B tier for the cute side, anyway.

The Jims: B

Honestly, it’s a goof ego, and I like that. The stupid movements and the little side bit about WKM made me happy after the sad events, and I saw them in Space, so I’m happy to put them at B, as a collective, of course.

Monster Gulch Mark: B

I’m a sucker for apocalypses, man. The casual murder plot caught my eye, and then the second song was a banger, too. I was super disappointed when nothing ever came out from Monster Gulch again, and I appreciate the running water thing, if you know what I mean by that. So, for both Mark in this and the musical in general, B tier.

God of Night: B

Dope aesthetic and I am a sucker for deity-stuff. However, I do not have the attention span to watch a 3+ hour video where he is not in all of it, and was, maybe, recorded without a hard script? I don’t know, but I know I should watch it considering I have a fic queued for him. Cool concept, but I can’t watch so much of that in one go. B tier.

Noir: A

You remember that I said I love suits, right? Well, this guy, in a disheveled suit, the noir aesthetic – one that I loved since I saw Into the Spider-Verse – and the voice over??? A tier, and I will take no comments. Also, there’s something to be said about how the lower tiers tend to have the cocky-know-it-all egos, and the higher tiers are soft guys. This, the A tier, is a weird exception.

Murdock: A

No. 1, the murder – no. 2, the vibe – no. 3, the outfit! The moment I saw Murdock, I had to put the screen down and go for a walk. You’ve seen this man, you understand what I mean. A tier, for everything he’s involved in.

Dark: A

This is probably lower than a lot of people would put him, and I’m still debating putting him higher, but A tier is the least I will go. Again, there’s the suit, plus, I’m a fan of the glitchy, multi-emotion thing he has going on. However, as many of you will remember, he did shove the viewer into a mirror and steal their body. Not great on his part, but he is against Actor, and the enemy of my enemy is my friend. Hence, A tier, plus he does stage himself sexily on that desk, so…

Engineer: A

This guy is plain cute. He’s devoted, he’s hard-working, he appreciates the aesthetics! He really should be in A+ tier, considering I have a sticker of him, too, except for one tiny snag. Actor. He is the source of all my trouble and complicates things in the theory sense. Is Engineer actually Actor? We don’t know, and I don’t like to think I would put anyone related to Actor in A+. So, sorry, my dear boy, he has to be in A tier.

Bing: A+

If you’ve seen my other posts, you may already understand why he’s here, but I will reiterate for every who doesn’t know. I don’t know what it is, but the dumb, skateboarder-bro, with a heart of gold is a thing I love. The glasses are cool, the orange I adore, and an android? C’mon, I can’t put him anywhere but A+. (I also have a sticker of him on the laptop I am currently writing this on)

Host: A+

I had to go searching for Host after the sketch with all of the egos in it, and, boy, was I overjoyed to find him. The blind-fold and narrator bit, and a couple of fics I’ve read influenced this decision. A+ tier, but it’s a controversial one. (Another that I have a sticker of)

Wilford: A+

Yeah, this is just where he belongs. S tier is reserved for two egos here, and so Wilford is a banger in A+ tier. The whole fruity-bisexual-timelord thing is amazing, and, as far as character design goes, oof, the fluffy hair, slightly unbuttoned shirt? I am swooning. A+ tier. (Also, a sticker)

Illinois: A+

This guy has two belts. What a dude. And the flirty thing I appreciate, the whip cracks, as well. Him walking backwards through a bunch of traps is pique douche, but in an oh-my-god-he’s-going-to-get-himself-killed-better-help-him kind of way. Like pulling a drowning dog out of a pool and them shaking off. A+.

Can you guys guess who’s at the top of this list? If you can’t, lemme tell you.

Damien: S

Damien is my comfort character, and that sucks because – spoilers – he is dead. I forgive him for shoving the viewer into a mirror, solely for his adorable personality and all of the fics people have for him prior to poker night. The ‘little monster’ nickname has me squealing every time I hear it, and I could fully write an essay on his character. Fuck Actor for killing him, and fuck anyone who doesn’t think he’s amazing. Solid S tier, no questions.

Yancy: S

Objectively the best character. He was my first ending in AHWM, I love his song, he applied for parole??? Look at that man, listen to him talk – the accent omg – and tell me, genuinely, that you would not do anything for him. Look me in the eyes and tell me that he isn’t the light of your life. ‘Free as a buird’ – gods, he’s adorable, and a sticker that I have on the inside of my laptop, to boot!

And that’s it! Feel free to reblog or send me an ask telling me your opinion, but know that I will fight you if you disagree on my S tiers :D

Have a good day everyone!

#Tier list #tier #markiplier #markiplier egos #theknightmarket #Yancy is the best #and I hate Actor

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yeraskier · 2 years

Text

the one where a recently divorced stede walks into ed's bar and grill and gets drunk. chaos (and many, many feelings) ensue. 6.9k words. teen audiences and up.

read on ao3

Saturday nights have always been busy at Ed’s Bar and Grill and Other Delicacies and Delights— and no, he will never forgive himself for signing off on the official name for this place while drunk— and tonight is no different.

Each seat at every table is filled and there’s hardly any room left out in the open space in front of the stage. There’s hardly any room left, period.

There’s a certain air in here tonight, a humble tingle underneath his skin. It could be the fluorescent violet lights that glow over the room, it could be the way the lights paint the bodies moving beneath it. It could be the fact that Ed is still slightly buzzed from the bourbon he had during his break, or it could be from the promise of sex later on.

Yeah, it’s probably that last one, Ed thinks as he watches Jack take another swig from his Heineken. He’s watching Ed out the corner of his eyes, lips upturned around the opening of his bottle as he taps the fingers of his free hand along the wood of the bar top— close to Ed’s hand, but not close enough.

Fuck, the things he’d give to simply up and leave right now. He could, technically speaking. Izzy is here, so the bar and grill would be fine. Plus, Ed owns the place, he can do whatever the fuck he wants.

But he owns the place and leaving for a booty call during the busiest night of the week is not something he could forgive himself for.

So, Ed waits. He tends to the bar and tries to not be distracted by Jack’s very presence. He’s failing, mostly.

Jack sets the bottle down and licks his lips, making that ridiculous mustache of his fold inward, and Jesus Christ, how is this man doing it for him?

That fucking mustache. The number of times Ed has thought of shaving it off while Jack slept is impressive. He’d deserve it anyway. After all, Jack is an ass— attractive, but a world-class ass.

He’s arrogant and obnoxious, almost as much as the rat above his upper lip. He’s loud and only moderately funny. Drinking and partying and being a prick make up his entire personality. It’s ridiculous, he’s ridiculous.

And yet, Ed keeps fucking him, because the sex? The sex is great.

And Jack is the only one who ever stays ‘til morning, so there’s that, he supposes.

Ed feels like laughing at himself. His standards have clearly taken a plunge over the years, and it’s so disturbingly sad to witness.

“What’s on your mind, Teach?” Jack questions, tilting his head sideways as if he knows. If only.

Ed shrugs and looks over at the stage where Frenchie is performing, just to give himself something to pay attention to that isn’t his alarmingly terrible taste in men.

“Oh, come on,” the brunette goads, “penny for your thoughts? Or whatever it is the people say?” Ed found that persistency attractive once upon a time. He doesn’t anymore.

“My thoughts are worth much more than a penny.”

Jack scrunches up his features in a way that screams I doubt that. Dick.

He parts his lips, a retort already on his tongue, and—

“I’m sorry, sir? Sir with the… rather voluminous beard?”

Ed averts his gaze to face the newcomer, sat two seats away from where Jack is sitting, and oh— If that isn’t one of the most beautiful men he’s ever seen.

It must be his first time here, or at least, the first time he’s been here while Ed was also here. He would’ve remembered this man, otherwise.

He would’ve remembered those almond-colored eyes, and that distinguished nose, and those pouty lips, and that prince charming haircut. Ed knows he would’ve.

Ed’s staring now, which is a very weird thing to do. Especially when the person he’s staring at is staring right back at him, but he can’t exactly help it.

He almost feels trapped under the man’s gaze, but maybe trapped isn’t the right word, because trapped suggests that he wants to escape. He doesn’t.

“Uh… sir?” Prince Charming repeats, posh tone as weary as his eyes.

“Yes?” Ed breathes, just as Jack goes, “can’t you see we’re in the middle of something?”

Ed has half the mind to cuff Jack in the back of his head, and he would, but he’s in his place of work. That would be unprofessional.

“Yes, I can see that.” There’s an edge to Prince Charming’s tone, not threatening, perse, but present enough that Ed can tell he’s a fierce, fiery thing— something like a bonfire; beautiful to watch from afar, but dangerous if you come too close.

“But this is a bar and grill, and I am at the bar, and I want a drink. So, unless this lovely gentleman here is alright with me reaching over and simply taking what I want, I think asking for some service is only logical, don’t you think?”

Ed can practically feel the heat coming off Jack in waves. When Jack opens his mouth next, he already knows nothing good will come of it, so he lays a firm hand over the one Jack has rested on the bar and grips it warningly.

Jack looks at him, and miraculously, stands down.

“I’ll be right back,” Ed promises with a final squeeze before walking over to the blonde.

This close, Ed can see the small mole the man has to the right of his nose, a slightly crooked nose. He can see the prominent dimples that indent the man’s cheeks every time his lips so much as twitch. He can see the worry lines across his forehead and the bags beneath his eyes. He can see that the man’s eyes aren’t dark, not like his own. Instead, they’re a warm brown, touched by honey.

His lips seem to be set into a permanent pout. Ed wants to change that.

“Sorry about that, mate,” he amends, “my friend isn’t usually that big of an ass.” It’s a lie, and Prince Charming gives him a look that says he knows that it is. Ed likes him already. “What can I get you?”

“A shot of the strongest whiskey you have, to start.”

To start tells Ed all he needs to know about the level of stress this man may be under right now, but it also implies that he’ll be here for a long while. He’ll eventually feel bad about being slightly thankful for the man’s misery. Eventually.

“Would you like me to open up a tab for you, then?”

Please say yes, please say yes.

“Yes.”

Yes!

Ed puts forth the most nonchalant face he can muster when he asks, “name?”

“Stede,” says the blonde, and it’s… not what Ed was expecting at all.

He didn’t know what to expect, but Stede wasn’t it. Maybe Robert, or Marcus, or… Phillip, but Stede? What kind of name is that, even? It’s like Steve’s ugly twin. What does it even mean?

Ed entertains the idea of asking as he goes through the process of opening up the tab.

It’s just a question. It’s a friendly, completely sensible question that shows employee interest in customers which is great for business! He can ask. He should ask.

In the end, he doesn’t ask. Ed fills up a shot glass with top-shelf whiskey and slides it over the mahogany surface. He watches Stede grab the glass and knock it back without hesitation.

And then, Stede starts coughing. And he doesn’t stop. He coughs until he’s red in the face and teary-eyed. He’s hacking up a fucking lung and Ed is stuck somewhere in between being worried and dying of laughter.

Stede’s near death experience subsides eventually, but he’s still clutching his chest like he’s ready for his heart to implode at any moment.

“Holy shit, that’s strong,” Stede wheezes.

“Are you alright?” Ed asks, and the corners of his lips tug upward when he does. He can’t help it. Now that he has no reason to worry, his amusement is clear as aday.

“Are you smiling?” The blonde questions, bewildered. “I nearly die in this bar, right before your eyes, after downing a drink you served, and you’re smiling?” But he’s smiling, too.

And then, he starts laughing. And he doesn’t stop. He laughs until he’s red in the face and teary-eyed, all over again. He’s breathless but Ed isn’t troubled by the idea of his possible demise. The man’s laughter is contagious, it takes nothing for Ed to laugh, too.

He laughs so hard he has to suck in big gulps of air every few seconds or he may pass out, and he doesn’t even know why because this situation isn’t that funny, but he can’t stop.

It’s strange. This is strange. He knows it’s strange because Lucius is looking up from that board he’s always carrying around and watching Ed skeptically from across the bar.

Well, Lucius can fuck right off with his judgmental gaze. If Ed wants to laugh like a lunatic with a man he met five minutes ago, he should be allowed to do that.

His stomach is beginning to cramp from it but he keeps laughing. His body doesn’t allow him to until Stede does. It’s only when the man’s laughter fades into faint chuckles that Ed is granted a reprieve.

“Oh, God. I haven’t laughed that hard in weeks,” says Stede, “thank you, you nut.”

Ed doesn’t know what he’s being thanked for, but it doesn’t stop the heat that spreads through his cheeks. It’s times like these, when he’s blushing like a kid with a crush, that he’s extra grateful for his beard.

He’s offered a distraction from his embarrassing display when Stede asks for another shot.

“Rough night?” Ed guesses as he slides it over.

Stede frowns. Ed takes that as a confirmation.

“Try rough week,” Stede corrects. “How’d you figure?”

“Only a man who’s been through the worst of the worst is so desperate to get drunk, he’s willing to go through that whole ordeal again.”

Stede snorts, and it shouldn’t be as cute as it is. “It is I, the desperate man.” He lifts the glass in thanks and takes it with the same level of bravery he had the first one. Like it wasn’t ready to take his life the first time. God, this man is a lunatic. Ed likes that.

He doesn’t cough at all this time, merely clears his throat. It’s rather aggressive, but it’s progress.

“You’re growing,” Ed notes.

“Are you proud?”

“Like a mama bird watching their child spread their wings and fly.”

Stede smiles, and there are those dimples again. Ed should not feel weak at the knees from seeing a pair of dimples, and he should feel nothing at all from watching the way Stede runs the tip of his index finger along the rim of his shot glass, but he does. Jesus Christ, he does.

He needs to get a grip.

Ed clears his throat, just as aggressively as Stede had done moments ago. “So, what’s got you all… gloomy?”

Stede smirks. “You’ll have to pour me another shot if you want those details.”

Ed pours him another and wills himself to focus on anything other than the sight of the blonde’s Adam’s apple bobbing when he swallows. He isn’t too successful.

“Well? Care to share?” Ed asks, cocking his head slightly.

Stede eyes him like he’s trying to figure something out. “Are you usually this invested in the business of your customers?”

“Yes,” he says, which is completely untrue. Ed couldn’t give less of a shit about the things that go on in the lives of total strangers, but Stede is… different. He wants to know everything about this man, and then some.

“Mm,” Stede voices, “since you’ve been so nice these evening, I suppose I will share. I just finalized my divorce a few hours ago.”

Ed’s eyes shift on their own accord, dropping to Stede’s left ring finger where a band indentation is very much missing.

“We’ve been separated for three months,” Stede explains, clearly catching his gaze, “I figured there was no point in wearing my wedding ring around.”

“Wow. That’s…,” not what I was expecting, “sad.”

“It is,” he agrees, “it is quite sad. I mean, I really shouldn’t be sad at all, I saw this coming. Our marriage started from a business arrangement, what good could come of it?”

This gives Ed pause. He’s not sure Stede even meant to say that part, but he did say it, and now Ed can’t shake it.

“A business arrangement?”

“Yeah, our families work together so, you know.” Stede waves his hand in the air carelessly and it flops back down almost instantly like the weight is too much for him to carry.

Ed blinks. “No actually, I don’t know.”

“Our fathers had us marry,” Stede says before shrugging. He shrugs. Like that’s totally normal.

Ed takes a quick look around the area, just to be sure no one’s listening in on the conversation. He realizes that Jack’s fucked off to God knows where and that everyone else at the bar is focused on themselves. Good.

He leans forward, resting folded forearms on the bar top. It puts him a lot closer to the man, which is not good for his sanity right now, but it does make for a slightly more private conversation. “That’s a bit old-fashioned, don’t you think?”

“My father was an old-fashion kind of guy,” Stede tells him as he looks at his own nails like they’ve personally offended him.

Was. Hm. Ed wonders if Stede mourned the death of that man the way he’s mourning the end of his sham of a marriage.

Arranged marriage, recent divorcee, and a controlling father who is now dead, Ed lists off in his head. It’s funny how much deep shit one can learn about another in as little as two minutes, and in the three minutes that follow Ed learns that 1) Stede hates his job with a burning passion, 2) Stede is pretty sure his ex-wife was cheating on him before they even separated, and 3) Stede is filthy rich.

It isn’t until the fourth shot that the alcohol seems to start having a very obvious effect on Stede. Ed has to hand it to the man, he expected this to go south a lot quicker than it did.

He thought Stede was prone to oversharing before but as it turns out, that was hardly the tip of the iceberg.

“You know… we never even had good sex,” Stede recalls, almost longingly, as he slouches over the counter.

Ed nearly drops the glass he’s wiping. “I… uh…”

“I mean it’s not really like I have much to compare it to. I never actually slept with anyone before Mary.” Stede lets out a puff of air and frowns. “The first two times,” he slurs as he holds up two long fingers, “were so we could have kids. More fulfilling family obligation things. The third,” he lowers one of his fingers instead of raising a third, “was to see if we could have sex just for the fun of it. That was terrible. A terrible, terrible decision.”

Ed has officially been rendered speechless. He feels like his brain has been stuffed with too much too fast and he has no idea how to react to any of it.

The one coherent thought at the forefront of his mind is how this Mary person managed to spend years married to Stede and not jump his bones every chance she got, but that probably wouldn’t be the most appropriate thing to say right now, so Ed doesn’t say it. He doesn’t say anything at all.

Instead, he pours himself a glass of water and chugs it down like it’ll shove the words he wants to say so far down his throat that they’ll never come out.

Stede sits up straight suddenly, slapping his hands down on the bar. “Oh, God,” he gasps with a start, “I’m basically a virgin, aren’t I?”

Ed sputters, and some (most) of the water that had been in his mouth lands in his beard. Thank God he decided to tie his hair up in a bun tonight.

“Stede,” Ed coughs, and it sounds pathetic.

“No, no, listen,” Stede says with some urgency, “the last time I had sex was… about eight years ago? And I read somewhere that every cell in our body is replaced every seven years, so technically… Mary had sex with my old body, which means this body is a virgin.” He gestures to his form with both hands, swaying them up and down in sharp motions.

“I don’t think that’s how it works, mate.”

“Oh yeah? And how would you know, Ed? Are you a scientist?” Stede questions with impossibly wide eyes. They look about ready to pop out of his head. “Well, are you?”

Ed snickers, “no, Stede, I am not a scientist.”

“Mmmhmmm,” he drawls, “that’s what I thought. Now, may I please have another drink Mr. Bartender, please?”

Ed rolls his eyes but pours him another shot anyway. He regrets it almost immediately when Stede wraps his knuckles against the wood right after downing it.

“I should go have sex!” He exclaims, and this does pull the attention of a few people. Ed waves them off as he fights the urge to not slap his hand over his face.

“Stede.”

“That’s what all the men in the movies do,” Stede tells him, “all the recently divorced men, they go out and have a bunch of sex. That’s what that guy in Stupid, Crazy, Love did.”

“It’s Crazy, Stupid, Love.”

“Pfft, technicalities,” he scoffs, “point is, I am a thirty-six and I am a virgin and I am recently divorced. I should go out and have abundant amounts of sex right now with anyone I can find. That’s what the movie men do.”

“I don’t think you’re in the best state to have sex with anyone right now, Stede.”

“I like the way you say my name.”

“St—” Wait. “What?”

“Do you find me attractive?”

“What?”

“No, like, theoretically speaking, and assuming you’re even into men, if I walked into a bar and you saw me, would you approach me?” Stede ponders, face showing no indication that he’s joking. “Would you come over and flirt?”

Ed wants to cry. He also wants lightning to strike him where he stands.

“I—”

“I kind of miss Mary.”

Ed never knew it was possible to get whiplash while standing completely still up until that very moment.

“Possible adultery aside, she’s a great person, great conversationalist,” Stede continues, completely oblivious to Ed’s sanity slipping away. “And she’s the only real relationship I’ve ever had, which is really sad. A part of me wishes we had worked out.”

This is the first time Stede has looked genuinely upset since he walked in here tonight. At first, he just looked tired. Now, he looks… heartbroken. It makes Ed ache inside.

“I know how ridiculous that sounds, but I don’t know… maybe if I had tried harder—”

“Hey,” Ed cuts in, “this isn’t your fault.” He doesn’t know where the sudden need to reassure this devastatingly beautiful man comes from, but it does. “Relationships are a two-way street, it requires both partners to put in the effort. And even if you had done something different, it may not have worked. Some people are just not meant to be.”

Stede smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes the way his previous ones had. “You believe that?”

“I do.”

“Does that mean that you believe some people are meant to be?”

And isn’t that one hell of a question. Truthfully, Ed has never thought of it— he’s never really had the chance to think of it. Lovers always came and went, and it got to a point where Ed began leaving before they could, so even if anything in his past could’ve been more, he never gave himself enough time to find out.

He knows that no one he’s ever been with has ever really… fit. He’s never formed some deep connection that just… made sense in the same way something as simple as breathing does. He’s never been with anyone and thought to himself, yeah, this could be it.

He thinks these are all things that should be present when two people are meant to be, but what would he know, really?

“I don’t know,” he responds honestly. “I really don’t know. I think that the best one could do is hope.”

“Hope,” Stede echos, “isn’t that a dangerous thing?”

“Yes, well—”

Wow. Stede is grinning.

“Oh, you fucker,” Ed whispers, “I can’t believe you just quoted Lana Del Rey in the middle of a deep conversation.”

“And I can’t believe you caught that.”

“I can’t believe you’ve even heard of her,” Ed retorts, “you seem like the kind of person to listen to nothing but Beethoven or some shit.”

It’s enough to make the blonde burst into fits of laughter, and same as before, Ed goes with him.

Their combined laughter is as loud as the drums that beat on stage, as bright as the blue lights shining above them, and as lively as the dozens of people around them.

It brings tears to their eyes, makes Stede wheeze, and makes Ed’s stomach ache, but that’s okay because Stede hasn’t laughed like this in weeks, and neither has Ed.

They get to have this.

—

Ed is eventually forced to cut Stede off.

As amusing as it was to listen to him completely butcher Umbrella by Rihanna as he sang alongside Frenchie for the band’s cover of the night, it was less amusing watching him stumble off the stage.

Ed had to help Stede back to his seat and despite the horrific booze breath, he had very little objections to the blonde draping an arm around his neck and leaning all of his weight into Ed’s hold. It was one of the highlights of the night, but still, there is such a thing as too drunk and that was Stede.

Stede was not too happy about Ed’s decision which he made blatantly clear, but he also denied Ed’s offer to get him a taxi home, so clearly he wasn’t that hurt.

All of this brings Ed to the current situation he is in right now, a situation that makes him wish Stede had taken his previous offer of a cab home.

“God,” Stede groans around a mouthful of burger, “this is the best thing I have ever tasted in all my days.”

“Glad you like it,” Ed mutters, voice strained as his fingers wrap around his biceps. He folds his arms over his chest a bit tighter like that will prevent him from thinking the many things he is currently thinking. Unsurprisingly, it doesn’t work.

Ed likes to think he’s a pretty average guy. Sure, he has some pretty alarming kinks and a few fetishes that may raise a couple of brows, but what person living in this day and age doesn’t?

All in all, he thinks he’s quite normal, sexually speaking, but what he’s feeling right now from watching Stede is a burger is not. fucking. normal.

There is quite literally nothing appealing about this sight. Stede keeps talking with his mouth full, the ingredients keep slipping out of the bun, and there’s grease everywhere. Nothing about this scenario screams sexy and yet there’s an unreasonable level of jealousy brewing beneath Ed’s skin at the fact that he is not that burger in Stede’s hand. It’s fucking absurd. He doesn’t know what this situation is doing for him but—

A thin stream of juice spills out over the back of Stede’s fingers when he takes another bite into the burger, and Ed wants to lick it up and—

“My brother in Christ, what the fuck is wrong with me?” He mutters under his breath.

“What?” Stede asks.

“Nothing,” Ed responds hastily, mustering up the best I-am-not-dying-to-kiss-you-right-now smile he can manage.

Stede eyes him skeptically for exactly four seconds before shrugging and taking another bite of his burger.

Ah, yes, Ed thinks, now I can obsess over you eating food in peace again.

—

As it turns out, Stede with a full stomach is just as talkative as drunk Stede. Though, in his defense, he still seems pretty drunk, too.

Stede talks more about his job and his business partner Chauncey and Ed’s never met the man a day in his life, but he knows without a doubt that he’d sock him in the gut if ever given the chance.

Stede opens up about his kids and how much it hurts that they clearly love their mother more, and it takes every bit of control Ed can muster to not take the short trip to Stede’s side of the bar to give the man a hug.

Stede goes into more detail about Mary, so much detail. He talks about her book club and how he can’t stand her painting instructor and her hatred of his very colorful wardrobe and their painfully non-existent sex life— seriously, Ed doesn’t understand how the man went that long without sex as a being who wants sex.

Stede even takes a break from reciting his life story to tell Ed he thinks he’d look lovely with his hair down, and Ed does not blush, okay? No matter what Lucius says, he does not blush at that comment. He’s nothing but the image of composure by the time Stede skips to the next subject like he wasn’t just flirting with Ed.

He’s not sure how they get from point A to point B, but by the end of point B, he’s heard the tale of the first time Stede was forced to go hunting with his father, and God, Ed wants to hug him again. And cry. But mostly give him a hug.

The man is in desperate need of a hug and Ed could give him the best hug, he’s a great hugger. He thinks about it, only for a split second, but then Stede is telling him how well the purple of his shirt suits him and suddenly, Ed is fighting for his fucking life all over again.

Stede may be the bane of his existence, Ed realizes.

And possibly the best person he’s ever met, but that’s neither here, nor there.

All Ed knows is that he’s beginning to feel as scattered as Stede’s drunken train of thought, and he should probably cut the conversation short and go home with Jack like he intended to, but he doesn’t want to.

He doesn’t want to to the point where he drags Lucius behind the bar to tend to it instead so that Stede can have his undivided attention. (So, basically the same way he’s had it all night? Lucius had quipped. He should really fucking fire that guy.)

But, it’s a fair point. Ed wants to sit here and let this gorgeous man confuse the shit out of him. He’s clinging onto every word, greedy for every compliment and every bit of information Stede is willing to give, which is a lot, apparently.

Maybe he should feel bad about it. After all, he’s a stranger and Stede is drunk, but Stede wants to vent. He needs to vent, and Ed has found that he is more than happy to be the person Stede vents to.

So, he listens.

He listens and becomes attached to Stede’s odd sense of humor. He becomes hypnotized by the gleam in the blonde’s eyes when he talks about his obsession with pirates. He becomes enraptured with the endless number of random facts Stede knows for no other reason aside from genuine curiosity.

He’s put in a trance whenever Stede so much as snickers and he becomes flustered when their hands get too close to one another’s. He feels like a teenager all over again. He feels like he did right before his first kiss, right before his first time.

And a man he met mere hours ago probably shouldn’t be making him feel the way lovers he’s known for months and years haven’t been able to but, alas.

So, he listens. He listens, and he learns and doesn’t want to stop learning and oh— Oh.

Yeah, he thinks, this could be it.

—

Ed is usually the first person out the door once it’s time to close, Jack hot on his heels.

Tonight… isn’t like that.

Customers flood out, group by group. Then, the band leaves after packing their instruments. One by one, Ed’s staff depart after completing their final tasks.

Jack lingers behind, expecting Ed to come with him as he always does but tonight isn’t like that.

Ed wishes Jack a good night, ignores his blatant annoyance, and goes back to talking to Stede. He may have just lost a fuck buddy but he’s Edward Teach, he can find another if he desires.

Izzy is the last to leave. He seems startled, confused, and slightly irritated (his default, really) by the scene in front of him but he says nothing at all and walks out the door.

It’s just them, after that. HE and Stede.

It shouldn’t be him and Stede. There should be no one in here at all. Ed should be in his bed, knocked out after a good round of sex the same as he is every early Sunday morning, but tonight isn’t like that.

Tonight, he’s with Stede. It’s the longest he’s spent talking to someone he’s just met who he’s attracted to without either of them being naked, but there’s a first time for everything.

He isn’t itching for sex, either. Another first. He knows he’s attracted to Stede— Lord does he know it— and he’d have sex with the man in a heartbeat if he could, but this, what they’re doing now, it works too. In fact, it works better.

It’s odd. Ed hasn’t formed a connection like this in… well, ever. With Stede, there’s that comfortability like they’ve known one another their entire lives, but it’s paired with that excitement of being exposed to someone new.

It settles over his skin, but there isn’t that buzz of anticipation. He’s found what he was meant to find tonight in one Stede whatever-his-last-name-is-Ed-is-sure-it’s-beautiful, and he feels… centered.

Maybe that’s why it’s so easy to open up to Stede.

Ed isn’t a quiet person, not by a long shot. He talks— he enjoys talking and making people laugh and making people blush and the occasional making people feel better about their shitty lives and shitty tendencies. He can talk, maybe not as much as Stede, but he is definitely capable of it.

Still, if someone were to sit and think about anything meaningful he’s ever said to them about himself, they’d come up blank. He talks, but is sure to never give too much away— not when drunk, not when high, not to the therapist he started seeing a month ago, not even to those closest to him.

And yet, he tells Stede… everything.

He doesn’t really remember how the conversation shifted to him, but once he starts talking, he can’t stop.

He tells Stede about how he grew up less fortunate than the white kids he went to school with, how it led to him constantly being tormented and harassed.

He tells Stede about being an only child, growing up in a broken home. He skips over the part about his father being abusive, but he tells Stede about everything else, including the many ways he nearly destroyed himself after his mother died.

He tells Stede about all his failed relationships, and then tells Stede that he simply stopped doing relationships after awhile. He regrets it almost immediately, fearing that it would push the man away, but there’s no judgement in Stede’s eyes when Ed chances a glance at him.

So, he goes on.

He talks about using sex as a means of pleasure, a means of escape, a means of manipulation. He buried that last one so deep that the words stung his throat as he choked them out, but Stede lays a hand on his shoulder and the touch soothes the burn. So, he goes on.

He talks about breaking hearts so his never gets broken. He talks about the night he cried himself to sleep because he feared that he’d never be loved. He talks about his inability to let anyone in.

And Stede listens.

Ed talks about the good things, too.

He talks about all successes in life, and his passion for cooking, and his even greater (but secret) passion for baking, and his two pet dogs, and his absolute obsession with the show Shameless, and his motorcycle, him and Lucius’ sleepovers, and him and Izzy’s matching tramp stamps, and him and Frenchie’s overly competitive game nights.

Stede listens to that, too. He laughs when Ed tells a stupid joke, and his eyes soften around the edges when Ed is recalling memories that hurt, and he beams during the one time throughout the entire night that Ed shows any indication that he’s proud of himself and the person he’s becoming. It’s a sight he’ll remember forever, whether he ever sees Stede again or not.

“You know,” says Stede, the first words he’s spoken in a while, “I know all of these facts about your life, and yet, I’ve come to the realization that I still don’t know your name.”

Oh. Well, isn’t that something.

“Edward,” he says, “Edward Teach.”

Stede smiles.

“Nice to meet you, Edward Teach. My name’s Stede, Stede Bonnet.”

Ed scoffs, rolling his eyes at the dramatics of it all, but he can’t help the way his lips stretch. Stede had to have been a theatre kid in high school. Maybe they would’ve been friends.

Ed can’t picture any scenario where they wouldn’t have clicked the way they do now.

“Nice to meet you, Stede Bonnet.”

—

“...and we just fling the whips around and break glass. And once, Jack was drunk and whipped the wrong way and that’s how I got this scar.”

Stede ducks his head so he can get a closer look at the exposed skin just beneath Ed’s collarbone. It’s intimate, their proximity. It makes him glad that the bar is now closed so no one else is here to witness, but it also makes kissing Stede far more tempting. God.

“Well that game doesn’t sound particularly fun,” Stede notes with raised brows, glancing off to the side with a frown on his face.

Ed shrugs as he adjusts his shirt back to it’s original position. “It was college, we were dumb.”

“Ah so, you’ve known this Jack character for quite some time, then?”

He hums his confirmation, twirling his bottle of beer in hand, watching the beverage move like a wave.

“Willingly?” Stede voices, puzzled.

“I’m sorry?”

“Like… you aren’t being held against your will or anything, you choose to be friends with this man?”

Ed arches a brow. “You’re quite the lippy one, aren’t you?”

“Just checking,” Stede says to him.

“Right,” he drawls, “well if you must know, the answer is yes. I am willingly friends with Jack. I was actually supposed to go home with him tonight.”

Stede makes a face at this, nose scrunched with his lips puckered. It’s adorable.

“Don’t be jealous,” Ed teases, nudging the blonde lightly.

“Why would I be jealous?” He muses, tilting his head almost challengingly. “You’re here with me, aren’t you?”

There’s this look in Stede’s eyes, something mildly mischievous but so incredibly fond it’s almost painful. Those brown eyes— there’s a warmth in them now under the dim yellow lighting that embraces them. Ed feels a tugging in his chest, the tugging of his heart, like Stede is calling for it without uttering a word.

“I am,” he responds, hating the way his voice cracks. The bane of his fucking existence, indeed.

A comfortable silence grows between them. Ed gulps down his beer, Stede sips at his water. It’s the first quiet moment that they’ve shared since they’ve met, and, unsurprisingly, it doesn’t last long.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Stede says, “you and Jack… do you love him?”

The answer is immediate. “God, no. He’s one of the most insufferable people I’ve ever met.”

“Then, why do you keep him around?”

Ed doesn’t know what look he has on his face when he turns to Stede, but it’s enough to make the blonde worry at his bottom lip with his teeth.

“Sorry if I’ve overstepped,” he amends, and he sounds so small. Ed hates it.

Stede is the kind of person whose presence fills up the entire room and it’s meant to be like that, Ed never wants it to be any other way, and he sure as shit never wants to be the reason for it being any other way.

“No, no, it’s fine,” he assures, “it’s a fair question, and honestly, I don’t really know. I guess things with him are just… simple. Easy. We know what we expect from one another and that that’s all it’ll ever be. Yes, he’s kind of awful, but I can be too. It sort of just… works.”

“We accept the love we think we deserve,” Stede whispers, and it doesn’t seem like he intended to say it out loud.

Ed knows the quote. Of course, he knows the fucking quote. His copy of The Perks of Being A Wallflower is the most warnout book in his collection. He has that quote underlined, has ever since he was in high school.

“I guess we do.”

It’s silent again, but it isn’t as comfortable as the last time. There’s a certain tension in the air that makes Ed’s knees bounce.

“Well, I’ve only known you for a few hours,” Stede begins, “but I can tell that you deserve more than you think you do.”

And there’s that tugging feeling again. His heart beats so strong in his chest that he can feel it in on the inside of his wrist.

And… yeah.

This is it, he realizes— accepts, this is it.

That bond, that connection. This.

I hope you’re right.

“Thank you.”

I hope I’m deserving of you.

—

They’re laughing again, and thank God, no one is around to see this round.

What started as Ed sharing the tale on how he got a penis with wings tattooed on his arse as a dare ended up with Stede literally laughing so hard he fell off his chair, which led to Ed falling when he tried to help Stede back up.

Which leads them to where they are now: rolling around on the floor of the bar, nearly out of breath from how hard they’re laughing.

They must look like fools right now, but Ed doesn’t mind. He feels like a kid for the first time in his entire life, it’s liberating, and he doesn’t want to lose this feeling. He doesn’t want to lose anything about tonight. He doesn’t want to lose Stede.

It’s unfathomable, the way one person can storm into your life and change so much in one night. It doesn’t make any sense in the way that all of it makes sense.

How is it possible that Ed’s gone all his life without feeling seen and Stede fucking Bonnet swoops in and does in one night what no one has ever been able to accomplish?

How is it that he’s only just met this man, and yet he feels like he’s been missing him all his life?

Ed can’t call it love, because he doesn’t know what that feels like, but he thinks this is the closest he’s ever gotten to making that discovery.

“Go on a date with me.” The words escape his lips before he’s even thought them through— hell, before the thought was even fully formed in his head.

Stede literally looks like a deer caught in headlights, and it could be the cutest thing he’s ever seen if it wasn’t so nervewrecking given the situation. Ed thinks about taking it back, but what comes out is a very low, practically whimpered, “please?”

Stede’s eyes round at that, the alarmed expression melting off his face and settling into something more… him-like.

“Edward Teach,” Stede gasps with a hand over his chest. Dramatics, again. “Are you truly asking a recently divorced man out on a date?”

It sounds so bad when said like that that it nearly makes him wince, but he’s already put it out there. The worst that can come of it is rejection. He could get over that. It’s not like he’d die from rejection… right?

“I dunno, would that recently divorced man say yes?”

Stede hums, tapping the tip of his ringed index finger against his chin. “Hm. Well, it’s quite scandalous. Positively ballsy.” Ed snorts at this and it eases some of the tension that’s been building since he asked the question he’d been dying to all night. “I’d say… he probably would.”

“Yeah?”

He feels Stede’s foot knock against his own as the blonde levels him with a reassuring smile.

“Yeah.”

#well... no comments here tbh just hope you guys enjoyed it #my writing #edward teach #stede bonnet #blackbonnet #gentlebeard #our flag means death

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i-am-bitterly-jittery · 2 years

Text

Five Times Someone Mistook Roman And Remus (And One Time They Finally Met)

3. Virgil

[1] [2] • [4] [5] [+1]

Word Count: 849

Rating: Gen

Pairing: Dukexiety

Warnings: cheating (but not really), anxiety

~~~START~~~

This wasn’t anywhere near any of Virgil’s usual haunts, but it wasn’t near any of Remus’s either, and that was kinda the whole point.

His and Remus’s six-month anniversary was coming up, and Virgil wanted to do something special to celebrate. None of his past relationships had ever made it this long, so it was kind of a big deal.

Which led him here, to the other side of the city. Patton had recommended a restaurant, and he wanted to do a dry run of the place before bringing Remus, as well as stake out other places they might like to go after dinner (there was a reptile zoo a couple blocks down that was sounding pretty promising).

He’d just seen Remus this morning (having slept over at his place), and he’d looked the same as ever — wild hair, mustache that looked like he’d stolen it from a cartoon villain, punk — so it came as quite a shock when he saw Remus coming towards him with a man Virgil didn’t recognize, and looking completely different.

His hair was styled — like actually styled, not Remus’s usual method of using hairspray without checking how it looked in a mirror first — his clothes were brightly colored and completely lacking holes or tears, and his face was clean shaven! Virgil had never seen Remus without his mustache; Remus loved that mustache!

Virgil was entering panic mode — Remus was on the other side of town, looking completely unlike himself, and walking with a man that Virgil had never seen before.

Their body language seemed casual, so Virgil took cheating off the table (he really hoped that cheating was off the table), but still, whatever Remus was doing it must be pretty secret to have not only changed his entire look, but to also lie to Virgil this morning when he said he was going to a gallery.

This was bad — it was very, very bad — and it was only getting worse because Remus and the other man had almost reached Virgil and he had no idea what to do.

Autopilot kicked in, and Virgil let his body take the lead.

“Who are you and what have you done with my boyfriend?” He asked casually, stepping ever-so-slightly into Remus’s path, forcing him to stop.

“What?” Remus asked, his face showing complete confusion without any of the shock or fear one might expect from someone so clearly hiding something.

“I mean you shaved, you’re all clean looking,” oh, he was babbling now. “And I’ve never even seen this jacket in your closet! I thought the only red you liked was blood?”

Remus’s companion was staring at him, but Virgil was solely focused on Remus.

Please have a good explanation. Please have a good explanation. Please have a good explanation–

“I’m sorry,” Remus said slowly — he’d even changed the cadence and pitch of his voice! “But I think you’re confusing me with someone else.”

There were two options for what was happening here, and Virgil almost hoped that it was the second one, because option one was that he’d just made a complete ass out of himself in front of two complete strangers.

“That’s not funny, Remus,” Virgil said, somewhat desperately.

A lightbulb seemed to go off in Remus’s head because his face lit up with recognition.

“You know Remus!?” He crowed excitedly.

“Um…”

“I’m Roman Prince,” Remus — Roman? — continued. “A few months ago, I met an old woman who thought I was her grandson, Remus. I thought it was a one-off, but you thought I was him too!”

“You’re not Remus?” Virgil asked. “You met abuela?”

“I’m really not, I must look a lot like him though, I fooled you.”

“Statistically,” Roman’s friend said, shocking Virgil, who’d almost forgotten about him. “Everyone on earth is thought to have about seven doppelgängers — that is, people who look remarkably like them. Other than stylistically, which you pointed out earlier, do you see any other differences between Roman and your Remus?”

“Uh, well his eyes, now that I’m looking at them, aren’t quite the same — Remus has some greenish flecks in his, Roman’s are more gold-ish,” Virgil blushed, fighting off the new level of panic that came with publicly embarrassing himself.

It was time to panic and/or hide— preferably in the safety of his own home.

“I’m so sorry for bothering you, Roman.” And with that, he stepped around the pair and began walking away as fast as he dared.

“It was nice meeting you too!” Roman called after him. “Tell Remus that he needs to treasure his abuela more!”

Virgil turned and shot him a two-fingered salute before quickly ducking around a corner. All he wanted to do was go home and hide under the covers until the sun went down.

And maybe call Patton to vent.

But one thing was certain, he could never tell Remus about this.

(He ended up telling Remus as soon as his boyfriend asked him about his day; Remus’s only reaction was to nod sagely and declare that he had to find Roman and fight him to “become the alpha doppelgänger”.)

~~~END~~~

I think the next two parts are gonna be a little longer (part 5 will be at least), so it might take me longer to finish them. Might not though, who knows 🤷‍♀️

General taglist:

@royalty-of-all-things-snuggly @pixelated-pineapple @knight-shives @misunderstood-shadowling

#sanders sides #ts sanders sides #virgil sanders #roman sanders #remus sanders #logan sanders #dukexiety #intruxiety #doppelgänger au #thursday writes #my writing #sanders sides fanfiction

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bitchfitch · 2 years

Note

So many of these I want to send but i shall restrain myself to One (and since i love all your characters i'm going to let you choose who you're doing this for LMAO) ❤️‍🔥

the hardest part was figuring out who would be the funniest to do this with, but eventually I settled on the capitalism boys.

Walking home alone was rarely the best idea in this city, walking home alone at night through the creepy park because youre a little drunk and can't be fucked to go the long way around? Genuinely a terrible idea.

That thought did cross Adi's mind, he did think this was a horrible idea, but his shoe choice for the night had been less than stellar and his phone died an hour ago and it was starting to get a whole lot colder than his short dress/ cute pull over combo could really handle. So, Yes this was a bad decision, but it was necessary due to all the Other bad decisions he's made in the last six or so hours.

Walking the well maintained paths had actually been quite relaxing, it gave him time to sober up a little, and to enjoy the quiet, clear night. Right up until he heard sobbing and smelled smoke.

Now, A smart man would ignore that. A smart man Wouldn't walk towards that particular sensory experience like the victim in a particularly shitty police procedural episode (god he was even in the 'whore who had it coming' uniform from those shows, what was He Thinking), but smart men also didn't get in these situations.

"Hey?" Adi called, carefully stepping off the concrete sidewalk and onto one of the packed dirt paths that lead out to the small campsites that filled this portion of the park, "Is someone there?"

"Wha-" The man who had been crouched next to it shot up, stumbling before catching himself, "Hey, hi, uhm- nothing to see here?" he tried to brush it off, putting on a painfully fake smile that was almost completely hidden by his unkept mustache and beard. His tail wa sticker between his legs, his ears pinned back and even in the low light Adi could see that his face was streaked with tears.

"Hi. Are you like, sure about that?" Adi pointed to the fire and the half empty box beside it, "'Cause I don't think burning stuff is like, Allowed around here? Just normal camp fires last time I checked?"

"Well... I won't tell if you don't?" He shrugged, laughing nervously as he stepped in front of the box. He was wearing a nice pair of trousers, shiny shoes, and a fancy waistcoat over a plain colored dress shirt, definitely didn't look the type to be doing something like this.

"Yeah, whatcha burning?" He narrowed his eyes, "I won't tell on you but I kinda need to know if I should like, run or something."

"Oh, no it's nothing... nothing too devious, funny story about it really, but I'd hate to keep you up so..." he trailed off, not so subtly asking that Adi leave him and his burning be.

"Spill it then, I'm freezing, and you have a fire," Adi stepped up beside it, plopping down on one of the logs beside the fire pit. Adi hadn't even realized exactly how cold he was before the warmth of the fire chased it away.

The strange man looked between him and the path, shifting his weight from foot to foot before settling down on the log accross from Adi.

"You first? I mean, I was here first and you just showed up, so I think that's fair, Right?" for such a weird guy, he did have a cute, doofy little smile.

"Yeah, fair enough. I'm Adi, I was out enjoying myself, realized my friends phone was dead and I didn't want to go home with anyone if I couldn't text them where I was, so I started heading home before I could get drunk enough to ignore that intuition. Decided to walk there because It's way too expensive to call a ride right now and then I met a weird crying guy in the woods," he didn't quite trust the guy enough to say it was his phone that was dead, and not his friends, but it was a decent enough lie in his opinion.

"I'm Eadwulf, uh... Well, My fiance cheated on me, and I thought he was on a 'buisness trip'" his nose scrunched up at the words, "Turns out hes off on some beach banging a man half our age. And I found out because said man thought it would be cute to interrupt the video call we were having. Turns out he didn't know John was engaged to me and was just as furious to learn it as I was when I found out John was Married to him," he scrubbed his hands over his face as he finished his story,

"Fuck, I'm so sorry," Adi didn't know what else to say, "I'm guessing that his?" he points to the box,

"Yeah- fuck I can't believe I'm doing this-" he looks at the burning junk Adi couldn't even begin to identify anymore, "He's a shit head who's never stepping foot in my home again but this is a step to far isn't it?"

"No, no, Absolutely not. In fact, it's no where near too far, it's not even far Enough," Adi stood from his log, "You want to go a bit further? Because I know Just the thing,"

"Going to tell me first?"

"We're just going to take a picture. Make it look like you got over that piece of shit Real quick." he sat his purse beside Eadwulf and straddled his lap facing him, "Hold still,"

"Rodger that," Eadwulf had gone stiff under him as soon as he's sat down, so really he didn't need to ask.

Adi pulled the small pack of make up wipes he kept in his purse and carefully wiped the tear tracks from Eadwulf's face. He reached around him to let his hair out of the messy half bun Eadwulf had it in so Adi could run his fingers through his hair, tousling it up in a deliberately messy way. Adi sat back to admire his work, it was good but Eadwulf needed more, this was far too tasteful, he decided. Adi undid the first few buttons on Eadwulf's shirt, and got him to take off his waistcoat entirely with a little bit of persuasion.

He sat back again, this time to pull his lipstick out, quickly reappling it before smudging it with his finger just enough to be obvious but not enough to look fake. He considered wiping the excess on his finger off onto the collar of Eadwulf's shirt but the wine red would definitely leave a stain the poor guy didn't deserve, so instead he just wiped it on his own thigh.

"Can I borrow your phone? Just need to take the picture and then we'll be done," Adi didn't miss the way Eadwulf jumped out of a daze when he spoke. He wasn't stupid, even if he did prefer to act like he was, he knew what kind of effect he must be having on him right now, but that was a necessary sacrifice if it meant getting back at this random strangers shitty ex.

Eadwulf was quick about it, fumbling his phone out of his pocket and opening his camera app and switching to the front camera with only a little difficulty before handing it over.

Adi took it, held it at selfie distance, pursing his lips as he picked out the best pose for them in his head.

"We can't do anything about those red eyes so just-" Adi paused and guided Eadwulf to lean his head against his shoulder, making sure his eyes would be hidden behind his head and neck, "Yeah just like that, Hands on my hips and try and look like you're having a whole lot more fun with me than you ever did with him," Adi instructed before taking his own pose.

He leaned forward, arching his back and fisting his free hand in Eadwulf's shirt. It took him a moment to find the exact right combination of smug, sloshed, and horny to accomplish what he needed it to.

He took the picture, and then decided that it wasn't good enough, snapping a few more before leaning back again and saying "Sorry, just gotta, Real quick" and pressing a messy kiss right below Eadwulf's ear to leave a very obvious lipstick mark, "Perfect,"

Eadwulf's jaw had dropped, probably so he could protest what had just happened, but Adi got back into place and the photo taken at just the right moment to make it look like he was gasping.

"All done!" Adi was actually a little proud of his work as he got off Eadwulf's lap and sat beside him instead, "Look, It's perfect right? Just send that to him and I guarantee he'll be soooo jealous,"

"Y-yeah," Eadwulf had to swallow hard, "Definitely," he fussed around in his messaging app for a moment while Adi went ahead and grabbed his purse to get another make-up wipe for Eadwulf.

"Glad to be of help," Adi knew he must look like the cat who got the canary, but he couldn't help it, that was just too much fun. Messing with a kinda cute guy while also getting a jab in in someone else's relationship drama? Truly a fantastic end to the night.

"So... Uhm, you said you were walking home, uhm, would you maybe like a ride there? My cars not far and I feel I owe you especially since I'm going to be asking one more favor,"

"Yeah, and what's that?" Adi briefly wondered if he had truly lost his mind for even considering getting in a car with a strange arsonist he met out in the woods, but hey, he's made a Lot of bad decisions tonight and they've all been pretty fun so far. So, what was one more bad decision to cap it all off?

"Can I get your number? I mean- I'll drive you home either way- Or to somewhere else I- I promise I'm not trying to be weird," He babbled out.

"Sure, but if you're willing to drive me anywhere, your place might be a bit more fun," What was two more bad decisions to cap it all off anyways?

#snsjjsjsjsj #thank u #this got long

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