#kiss him Luger!!

[flowerprintundies]

Touch me. Hold me. Close to your heart.

Chuger dump #6

[bleedingcoffee42]

Part 4- Replacements

Wishlist for things that should have made the show.

Speirs did a radio interview in England as he was recovering from shrapnel wounds from Carentan and it was broadcasted during Victory Parade of Spotlight bands. His parents, sister were hosted by Coca Cola and Toll House back home to listen to it. I'd love to hear this. He comes back from the hospital and is assigned to S-2 and then ends up swimming across the river in Holland by himself a few times and gets shot in the ass. Please, let this man fulfill the prophecy of being a Easy Company man, by showing him washed up on shore wounded in "The best place to get shot."

In Carentan, Clancy Lyall runs straight into a German's bayonet and got stuck on it as bayonets tend to do when skewering. Lyall shoots first and the German fell backwards pulling the bayonet out. After getting morphined by himself and at least three other people, he's sent back to England and in the hospital and hears "loud Scottish brogue" and it ends up being his frickin Dad! Merchant marine that got torpedoed and was being treated for hypothermia. Gave him a Luger Luz gave him, Dad was thrilled.

Okay, I admit I just want more Spiers, but come on. In Eindhoven his guys were laughing at him because a hot lady kissed him so hard and long he turned red with embarrassment. We need this.

This when Buck and Nix have their "I hate Jocks!" Conversation. And Buck has do PT in O.D.s because Nix is a petty bitch. Please.

Lieutenant Brewer. He's the guy who walked out and got shot by a sniper. Well, he survives but everyone was like "Oh this dude is a goner" and said it out loud. Give us that. Give us Buck Taylor who sees Brewer face down in the grass and says "Let's get moving, Brewer's finished." and Brewer hears him. And Al Mampre is even worse, he takes one look at the guy who is pale as hell and is like "Lieutenant, are you still alive? Because if you're not, I'm leaving." He ends up being one of Buck's friends who he's been told is dead TWICE only to walk in and see the guy just chillin. Got hit between the eyes in Carentan, they said he was dead and Buck sees him in Aldbourne. Then in Holland he's told he's dead and sees him reading a book in the hospital in Oxford! Flesh this guy out. He's been 'killed' twice and ends up going to work for the CIA, dude could be more.

Clancy Lyall ended up in a Heineken beer factory. He also watches the Brits get out of the tanks and have tea. Every damned day. Winters gets pissed about it. Let us see him pissed.

Shifty debating if he wants to take out Germans who are escorting American prisoners.

Guth has a parachute malfunction , hits hard and ends up paralyzed. Medics take him to a barn and he wakes up to see his hometown doctor! Goes to the hospital but they don't operate and eventually he rejoins Easy even though he could have been discharged but wants to be back with the guys.

Nix and Dick climbing the church tower in Uden. Dick runs down grabs a squad and intercepts a German squad, runs them off, then he goes back to the tower. He and Nix just casually watch the Luftwaffe and tanks hammer Vachel. He comments that he can't believe nobody is trying to take them out. Cue smirks, smiles....the Germans finally sending a shot at them and hitting the bell above their damned heads. They fly down the tower then laugh about it. GOD do I want this scene.

Dick looking for a new CP and coming across a tank and no guards on duty. Pissed he goes inside and sees a British guy eating eggs with a local girl and the guy asks if his tank is still outside? Dick is PISSED, go off buddy. Then he goes to the tavern across the street and Welsh is ON the bar. Dick is chill though, "We had different priorities" but the check point was set up.

[wrxsslin-hours]

Hi! For a fic request how about Shawn and Kevin (who use to date but are besties now) gossiping about how cute Shawn thinks Bret is

A one-shot where Diesel judges Shawn's taste in men.

a/n: ty for the ask! This was a treat to write

“Is it Taker?”

“No.”

“Luger?”

“I have more class than that, Kev.”

Diesel leaned on his locker; the metal creaked under the added weight. The behemoth of a man smacked his lips together, going through the list of wrestlers Shawn has ever made eye contact with. It wasn't that long a list, considering how much time Shawn spends sending kisses to his mirror reflection. He wrapped his arm around Shawn, his mind still wandering. The smaller man bumped his head on Diesel’s shoulder. “Since when was it your business to know who I like?”

“It always has been.” Shawn maneuvered his way out of his friend’s hold with a laugh; some strands of his hair clung to Diesel’s skin. The two had just finished a tag match and had retreated to the corner of the locker room. Their heads were ducked down, whispering about anyone passing their peripheral. One conversation led to another, and now Diesel was on a one-man investigation to figure out the new man Shawn was pining over.

“Is he hotter than me?” Diesel asked, his voice laced with seriousness. Shawn hummed in faux naivety. He tapped his gloved finger on his chin, lips twisted in a pout. “Absolutely.”

Diesel gasped, offended as Shawn took off his gear. “No one is hotter than Big Daddy Cool,” the older man smirked, “Except you.”

Shawn couldn’t hold his laugh back. “Naturally.” He placed his leather, zebra-patterned hat on Diesel’s head; it tipped over to one side. Diesel fixed it, tucking his stray hairs underneath the hat's band.

“Is it one of the Harts?” Diesel asked. He noticed how Shawn’s silence stretched on for a second too long. Diesel smirked, “Is it?”

Shawn shrugged his shoulders, a smirk perking up on his own lips. “Maybe.”

The heartbreak kid sat beside his friend, legs perched up on the other’s lap. “There’s no way it’s Anvil or Bulldog,” Diesel started, and Shawn nodded in agreement. “You can barely tell Keith and Bruce apart.”

In a flash, Diesel took hold of Shawn’s legs, trapping him in his grasp. “Is it Bret?” Shawn’s silence was enough for Diesel to confirm his suspicions.

He should’ve known. From how Shawn lingers in the locker room to hover beside Bret, even though his match was a few minutes away, how he tries to make small talk, asking Bret for advice. Diesel had already lost count of how many times Shawn slinked away from him in bars to be with Bret. The Hart was far from Shawn’s usual type, if Diesel were completely honest. He was the same height as Shawn, a far cry from all the taller wrestlers that Shawn was ever interested in. He was all serious, no nonsense, both in and out of the ring when surrounded by people that aren’t his family. Diesel was sure Shawn had called him a wet blanket more than once. Arrogant, stubborn, and too uptight. Diesel pursed his lips, “No way.”

Shawn braced himself for the judgment. Diesel’s nose scrunched as he furrowed his brows, “I’m way hotter than him by a mile, and that’s not just my ego talking,” Diesel continued, a playful glint in his eyes. He released Shawn’s legs and stood up, towering over his smaller friend. “I mean, I’m the total package – charisma, height, and let’s not forget these chiseled features.” He pointed at his own face with a smirk.

Shawn rolled his eyes, amused. “I think I’m starting to rub off on you.”

Diesel stood up and brought Shawn up with him. “Didn’t know you were into the brooding artist type.” He took off Shawn’s hat and placed it on its owner’s head. “Should I start wetting my hair and slathering my body with buckets of baby oil too?” he bantered.

Shawn watched as Diesel carried both of their bags. He gave the bigger man a playful shove, but that hardly did anything. “You know, Kev, you’re still my number one. No one can replace the original Big Daddy Cool.” Diesel grinned and opened the door for Shawn. “Great! Now spill it, when are you making a move?”

Shawn pretended not to hear the other man; his eyes focused on Bret, who just finished a promo. The two exchanged smiles before Shawn turned to Diesel. The taller man had a shit eating grin of his own, "Well-" “Don’t even start, Nash.”

[judgementdaysunshine]

Surprise gone wrong

Pairing: Sting x Fem reader

Description: You reveal a secret to Sting during a cage match against Steiner, DDP, and Sid with Goldberg and Hogan

You followed Sting as he walked to the ring to help Hulk Hogan and Goldberg against Sid, Steiner, and DDP in a steel cage match. What you hadn't told your husband yet that you had found out late the day before was that you were pregnant and had tried to find the perfect moment to tell him immediately deciding to tell him after the steel cage match watching the chaos nervously after he had jumped in and went after Diamond Dallas, you noticed goldberg fixing to be barricaded between the cell and a table from sid leading to you running inside and pushing goldberg into the corner while shielding your body with your arms and legs as best as you could not realizing you had yelled out to dallas "Baby! There's a baby in me!" he stops immediately as does everyone else who is shocked while you slowly crawl to the door only to be grabbed by sid who is stopped by goldberg leading to you frantically jumping out of the cage as hogan gets the pin and wins leading to a fight between Lex Luger before you pulled sting backstage. After going to your shared motel room and showering, you hand him the sonogram which confirmed you were exactly seven weeks along and despite neither of you planning or having a recent conversation on having children in the immediate future with how your careers have been over the past few years you were scared and excited all at once and hoped that he was too as you sit at the end of the bed until he sweeps you up "God I can't wait to be a dad" you both tear up and smile big while sharing paused kisses before falling asleep wrapped in his arms like always for the past four years, you walk in the arena beside him only to see goldberg, hogan, Rey Mysterio, Eddie Guerrero, Steven Richards, and Raven who each were happy and overjoyed of the news even getting a hug and small grin from raven who normally didn't show emotions but you had brought a change to him which made him more calmer and smile more than he had in years and you can't contain the smile for the rest of the day watching Nitro including sting's match with Nash who congratulated the two of you after their match.

[from-beyond]

I can only find one dead man walking fic *cries*

Allow me to link you to all of the dmw fics I know of at this point in time!

definitely a kiss by gottliebeln

chaz and luger talking by the fire on an unspecified day early in their rescue mission

Late Night Out by FloweryAlien

Tonight, Chaz has stayed out mysteriously late after work, and Luger worries for him, but when Chaz returns he's a little different.

A Second Chance With You by undeadgayboynes

A year after the events of “Dead Man Walking (1987)” the unlikely pair is reunited when Luger shows up unannounced at Chaz’s apartment needing a for a place to lay low. Chaz agrees despite his his reservations. With the room to breathe and imminent death not hanging over either man’s head, things turn rather domestic and the two only grow closer. The subtle tension between the two is easy to write off, at least until Luger does something unexpected. How will this affect the pair’s relationship? Can they handle having someone to lose in a post plague world?

Tales From the Cata-Combs by PlagueDoctor31

A collection of one-shots focusing more on the lesser known roles of actor Jeffrey Combs (CHAPTERS 4, 5 AND 17)

don't go (without me) by meeeeee

This wasn’t turning out how he imagined reuniting with the Zeroman would go. Of course, he never considered that Luger would be dumb enough to break into the UNITUS headquarters, nor that he would somehow manage to escape maximum security detainment with only a gunshot wound to show for it. Still, he had always hoped that when they did meet again he would show Luger he had become a braver man… So much for that.

+ the sequel: time

After escaping from UNITUS and leaking the information about the cure, Luger and Chaz, newly reunited, are on the run through the Plaguezone. When a storm forces them to stop for the night, they finally discuss the feelings that have been unspoken between them. (Follow up to "don't go (without me)" from Luger's POV)

UPDATE! There are more now! Yay!

Let’s Make This Life Last by undeadgayboynes

Some little peeks into Chaz and Luger’s life after becoming a couple.

Separated by FloweryAlien

When a misunderstanding splits Luger and Chaz apart one night while back on the run in the Plague Zone, Chaz winds up losing his glasses as UNITUS encroaches ever closer... Whatever is our little nerd to do?!

Risk and Reward by FloweryAlien

Chaz and Luger share a kiss in the Plague Zone

BONUS fan art posted to ao3

Please note it is nsfw

Once again, I'll check back in a few months and add to this if there are more (hopefully there will be!)

[deadmanwalkingfanclub]

(fanfic) Risk and Reward

Chaz/Luger, Established Relationship, Kissing In The Plaguezone

Rating: (T)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/53012791

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Once again Chaz and Luger found themselves seated around a glowing campfire in the middle of the night. Despite UNITUS police potentially hot on their heels, the two men, feeling the safest they had in weeks, decided to finally set up a camp for the night.

Chaz had just cleaned their dishes and was walking past Luger all the while the blonde man was watching him, eyes half lidded as he put a hand on Chaz’s hip, catching his finger on one of his suspenders, his blue eyes darting up to meet Chaz's, “Hey Chaz. Thanks.”

“Huh, for what?”

“Everything I guess.”

A huge grin spreads across Chaz's face, and he quickly leans over to give Luger a quick kiss before leaning back.

Luger, not letting him get away so easily, grabs Chaz by the tie and yanks him down onto his lap as Chaz lets out a small gasp.

“Hey! Luger what are you…” He looks embarrassed as Luger pulls him closer, wrapping his strong arms around him. Chaz makes no attempt to leave as he quickly settles, putting his own hands against Luger’s broad chest.

Luger is flush-faced as his hands trail over Chaz's body, “Sorry but I just can’t help it, it’s been too long since we touched..." He arches a brow, "You know what I mean?”

Chaz lets out a breathy laugh, "I-I mean, I miss you too, but... should we…” His eyes darted around them at the surrounding wasteland.

Luger pulls him closer, putting a hand on his cheek and turning his attention back to him. He draws Chaz’s lips back to his own, kissing him and wasting no time in pushing in deeper, his tongue slipping easily between Chaz’s yielding lips. 

In response, Chaz moans as his hands move across Luger’s chest as if he’s not sure where to hold on he grips at the fabric of Luger’s shirt.

Chaz pulls away for air, lips still moist from the kiss and his face glowing red, "Luger, umm…" He glanced behind himself, "don’t you think we should keep watch or..."

Luger leans forward, turning the smaller man's face back to him, his lips close to Chaz’s open mouth, “We’re fine Chaz, no one’s out here but us…” He mumbled, his breath hot against Chaz’s lips.

Although he’s still a bit apprehensive, Chaz’s shoulders drop and he easily slips back into Luger’s strong arms. 

Luger hums pleasingly as he wraps his arms around Chaz’s back, pulling him closer and kissing his face and then down to the crook of his neck.

Chaz gasps as a wave of pleasure washes over him as he tilts his head welcoming the warm sensation of Luger’s lips. “S-still…it can be dangerous….what if we…we get too distracted…” 

Some rubble in the distance causes Chaz to glance nervously away again but he looks back at his partner after the sound of some small animal skittering immediately follows.

Luger slides his lips back to meet the smaller man's own with a teasing smirk, "Maybe you're right...maybe it is too dangerous..." Luger’s voice is a whisper as his gaze jumps from Chaz’s mouth up to his eyes.

Chaz nearly gasped as Luger looked at him almost hungrily, practically begging Chaz to be drawn in deeper.

Their lips meet again as Chaz sighs and he slides his fingers across Luger’s back.

"If we get caught..." His voice grows a little husky as a blush spreads over him, "We're never doing this again…”

Luger scoffs, “Trust me Chaz…UNITUS is nowhere around here…” Luger places a kiss back on Chaz’s neck as he starts working on loosening his tie. Practice pays off as he quickly undoes the knot, then he begins to unbutton his dress shirt exposing Chaz’s pale torso to the night air.

“Ok, but...what…about someone other than… UNITUS?...”

Chaz helps Luger slide off his coat then his shirt as the taller man twists around in his seat and lowers Chaz gently onto the ground beside them.

Luger pulls back, looking down at the smaller man below him, his mouth a breath away from Chaz's own.

"Guess I gotta make this quick.” Luger winks, his voice low and seductive, like music to Chaz’s ears and he can’t help but let his worries and anxieties slip away.

As if he can't help himself, Chaz reaches up with both hands and pulls Luger back down onto him, their mouths meeting again. His face is still covered in a bright red flush as he works his tongue back between their lips. 

Luger slowly slides his mouth away, trailing wet kisses down along Chaz’s exposed chest. It was true it had been too long since the two of them had any action and just the sensation of his partner's lips was enough to really get him going.

He could hardly think straight as Luger undoes his pants, but one thing is for sure, some things were worth the risk.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[blowflyfag]

Pro Wrestling Illustrated: 1995 THE YEAR IN WRESTLING. March 1996

MOST HATED WRESTLER OF THE YEAR: JERRY LAWLER 18,093 votes

If the voting for Most Hated Wrestler of the Year had been done only by the residents of Memphis, Tennessee, Jerry Lawler certainly wouldn’t have won.

He might have picked up a few votes, though.

Yes, even in his own hometown, “The King” has engendered his share of hatred. There is an increasing number of USWA fans who are disgusted by the way Lawler presents himself as a hero in Memphis while breaking the rules nearly everywhere else. It doesn’t help his cause that his broadcasting duties in the WWF prevent him from competing in the USWA as regularly as he used to.

“Lawler used to be a man we could always trust to fight the good fight,” wrote Scott Thompson of Nashville, Tennessee. “Now all we can do is watch him bail out when things get tough.”

Lawler is primarily a WWF man now, and WWF fans are none too thrilled about it. In his role as commentator, Lawler viciously blasts every wrestler who disagrees even slightly with him, and heaps unwarranted praise on those who are as underhanded as he is. Those comments aren’t limited to wrestlers; Lawler still enjoys making tasteless remarks about Stu and Helen Hart.

The Hart with whom Lawler is most obsessed, though, is Bret. Last spring, he smeared Hart’s name by accusing him of hating the Japanese. He duped Hakuishi into going after Bret, but Lawler’s motive was transparent; he needed Hakushi’s help to defeat “The Hitman” at In Your House I.

A loss to Bret in the “kiss-my-foot” match at King of the Ring inspired Lawler to bring in Isaac Yankem to go after Hart. When Hart and Yankem square off, Lawler usually interferes. In fact, during one televised Hart-Yankem cage match, WWF President Gorilla Monsoon ordered Lawler suspended above the ring in his own cage so he couldn’t interfere.

It all gives “The King” a rotten reputation–and a deserved on at that.

“You have to wonder what the people in the USWA  saw in him for all those years,” wrote Francine Julia of New Orleans. “What a horrible person!”

“I wish he’d spend more time in the ring,” wrote Marty Dean of Manchester, England. “That way, we would see a lot more wrestlers beat him up.”

Five years ago, one wouldn’t have heard such a comment in Memphis, but there isn’t a real strong “kingdom” there anymore. 

RUNNERS-UP

KEVIN SULLIVAN: 15,812 votes

First runner-up: Sullivan had one mission in 1995: destroy Hulk Hogan and his friends, include Kevin’s own brother Dave! Toward that end, he assembled the Dungeon of Doom. “The Taskmaster” did many horrible things, including shaving off Hogan’s mustache; most significantly, he brought in The Giant to feud with Hogan and convinced Lex Luger and Jimmy Hart to turn bad.  

THE GANGSTAS: 12,892 votes

Second runner-up: Mustafa Saed and New Jack feuded with Public Enemy for months in ECW, but that isn’t what earned them this “honor.” People hate The Gangstas because of the racist comments they've made. The remarks have enraged dans everywhere, not only in Smoky Mountains and ECW, the most prominent promotions in which The Gangstas have competed. 

DAVEY BOY SMITH 10,503 votes

Third runner-up: For almost all of his career, the “British Bulldog” was a loyal fan favorite. Last summer he snapped, attacking Diesel during a tag team match and signing with manager Jim Cornette. He then had the nerve to suggest that American fans showed him disrespect when they chanted “U.S.A!” during his tag team matches with Lex Luger. Sadly, Smith has become a bitter man.

VOTES FOR OTHERS (15,187)

Some of the top vote-getters who did not capture a runner-up spot include: Arn Anderson, Bob Backlund, Dean Douglas, Ric Flair, Owen Hart, Jeff Jarrett, Kama, Lex Luger, Mabel, Meng, Brian Pillman, Big Bubba Rogers, Skip, Sid Vicious, and Yokozuna

[leam1983]

Christmas Gifts for Naughty People

We spent the afternoon watching Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade, Sarah and I eventually reaching the very serious conclusion that Walter would make a great Disingenuous Academic Working With the Bad Guys. He's got the swagger for it, the likeability, the smidgen of Dom energy you'd expect...

The only problem - or perk, depending on how you look at things - is that Sar and I discussed this while the big guy was in earshot. He managed to surreptitiously slip back into his boots and to slip out to Storage, to find one of the old dollar-store water pistols that are part of my parents' old haul of poolside stuff, dating back to when we had a bungalow and an actual yard and I still lived at home. He then spent the rest of the movie ignoring my casual prods as to his slipping out of the apartment. Forgetting about this, I finish the movie and then get up to head to the bathroom.

Within a few steps, I feel something blunt push against the small of my back, and smell Walter's cologne close by.

"Not so fast, Mister Gremlin," he tells me, having shucked on his best British accent. "I've been asked to give you a very particular gift, before I send you off to meet your fate..."

One hand on my shoulder, half to make it seem like he's holding me hostage and half to assist me, he has me turn around. Sarah's quickly thrown her arms behind her back, acting as if they'd been tied together. She's got her best look of indignation plastered on.

"You won't get away with this, Professor George!" she shouts. Walter picked it up, smirking behind his mustache.

"Oh, I believe I will," he replies. "You see, Hitler's Thule Society pays anyone who could further their bid for immortality or immanence quite handsomely. That said, I do think I'll claim a rather different form of payment..."

What followed was probably my first, and to date only sex-focused roleplay instance - which makes it the best one ever by default. There's something strangely fun to imagine that a dinky little water pistol that doesn't even work anymore, all done in garish colors, is actually a period-appropriate Welrod or Luger being pressed to my side. In the meantime, Walter's best impersonation of a smarmy academic manages to make his belittling of my efforts feel somehow affectionate.

Near the end, he's trading hungry liplocks between Sarah and I, in a way that we both know as code from Actual Walter for I love you two so damn much. When he breaks free, however, we realize that he's still in-character.

"I suppose that was passable," Professor George notes, one eyebrow raised as he diffidently looks away. The effect on Sarah and I was instant. We went ballistic, and in the best ways possible.

In the end, we defeated the turncoat archeologist by glutting him with affection. "I can't keep this up," interjects Walter, laughing as he's getting closer to climax again, "I love you two too damn much for this!"

"Score one for the good guys," I murmur, as I try and melt against his side. Walt kisses me as if assent required the deepest liplock he can manage. He moans and grunts in appreciation as he does. The same is offered to Sarah moments later. We feel tasted. Sampled. Savored.

Loved, unconditionally.

The Nazis wouldn't have gotten far, if we'd been involved. The search for the Holy Grail would've probably ended in some ransacked bedroom, somewhere.

[pulpman2]

“Quickly, the fuse!” ordered Monique.

The scantily clad Maquis cell commander, fresh from the boozy party with a group of lechrous SS officers upstairs, shivered a little in the cellar of the commandeered great house. Danielle handed her the roll of cable and she carefully fixed a further fuse wire to another collection of dynamite sticks held by the scuba clad resistance fighter. Both women, concentrating on the task at hand, did their best to ignore the scuffling behind them as Gabrielle and Marie dealt with the German soldier who had encountered them. The terrified man had been disarmed and while Gabrielle held a knife to his chest, Marie tied his hands tightly behind his back with the rope each of the wet suit clad female fighters had come equipped with. Although not speaking, the frightened captive’s breathing was hoarse and sobbing. “Will you for God’s sake gag him!?” Monique hissed impatiently, and Gabrielle quickly pushed a pair of pink panties into the German’s mouth as far as they would go and tied them in place with a nylon female stocking.

“Nearly done.” Monique smiled to Danielle. “In ten minutes we light the fuse and drop into the moat. Did you bring me a wet suit?” “Bien sur!” laughed Danielle and pointed to a sack containing suit, goggles, swim fins, knife and rope. The blonde haired leader smiled and fused the last of the dynamite sticks. “This will blow this chateau to kingdom come,’ she mused, “and that SS scum upstairs with it.” At that very moment, loud male booted footsteps sounded on the corridor outside and in burst a German officer and two soldiers. “Cease this sabotage this instant!” the officer demanded. “You terrorist witches are under arrest!” Monique gazed levelly at the man and snapped her cigarette lighter into life. “Surrender, Kapitan.” she ordered “or I blow the château now!” The captain stood in impotent frustration, having already realised that Monique would have lit the fuse long before he could unholster and fire his Luger. He signalled his men to drop their weapons. Without needing instruction, Marie and Gabrielle quickly lined the three men up against the wall and began to bind them.

Monique and Danielle sealed the last of the dynamite and then Monique pulled on her wetsuit. She looked over to the four German soldiers, now lying on the cellar floor, bound hand and foot and gagged. “When I light the fuse, you will have ninety seconds to free yourselves or crawl to the tunnel leading to the moat, Kapitan. Bon chance!’ With that, the Maquis leader blew the glaring officer a kiss. Seconds later the fuse was lit. “Let’s go, girls!” Monique ordered and the four women fled the scene, hurrying down the corridor and the safety of the moat. The tied up Germans remained, eyes fixed on the fizzing fuse. They had less than ninety seconds to make their choice…

My interpretation of the story behind this cover to Man’s Escape magazine, February 1964; art by Walter Popp.

[babybluebex]

desperados [arvin russell x reader smut]

➽ pairing: arvin russell x fem!reader ➽ word count: 4.0k ➽ summary: arvin gets revenge against the man who wronged the girls he loves.  ➽ warnings: NSFW/MDNI. smut, explicit language, fingering (f!receiving), graphic violence, is getting to third base in a church parkling lot a warning? probably, excessive mentions of tom’s abs ➽ a/n: make sure to check out the sequel to this on my blog!! thanks for reading!

I saw Arvin’s hands shaking fiercely. The sun was nearly lowered over the distant mountains and people in this town were sure to talk about how the orphan Russell boy had come and picked me up this close to night, but I knew Arvin. He wasn’t very talkative, so his affection (and I use that term lightly) came in other ways. He always let me have his last cigarette, even though I barely smoked. He had saved a seat on the school bus for me, back before we graduated. He was kind, just not in the ways that Coal Creek knew. I knew, when I heard Arvin’s old ‘51 Chevy in front of my house, that he needed me; I jumped in his car before my mom had time to tell me to get dressed decently. 

“Arv,” I whispered. “What’s going on? Where’re we going?” 

Arvin took a deep breath, but he didn’t answer. He looked out his window before returning his gaze to the front windshield, and his fingers began to tap on his steering wheel. “He killed my Lenora,” he mumbled finally. “Light me a smoke, would ya?” 

It took a moment for his words to register. Ever since Lenora died, Arvin had become distant, nearly a whole different man. He went to work and went back to his grandmother’s house. He barely made time for me anymore. That was alright, though; he had lost the only person he had ever really loved. I couldn’t blame him. I wasn’t much to him, other than someone who tolerated him. 

“I thought Lenora…” I began and swallowed my words. He had requested a cigarette. I reached into the backseat where his jacket was slung and tugged out his crushed box of cigarettes and a matchbox, and I lit him a cigarette. I passed it to him, and he carefully took it between his fingers. 

“Ain’t you gonna take the first gasp?” Arvin asked, managing a weak chuckle. His eyes were dark and focused, and there was nothing behind his smile. Levity, I assumed, to make me feel better about whatever was happening. 

“My mama would skin me if I came home smelling like smoke,” I said, wrapping my arms around myself. “Go ‘head, Arv.”

Arvin lifted his hand to his mouth, his thin lips wrapping around the end, and he took a deep pull at it. He blew the smoke out of his nose, and he said, “Lenora did it to herself, yeah, but he made her do it. He drove her to it.” 

“Who’s he?” I asked. 

“Did that Teagardin son ova bitch ever lay his hands on you?” Arvin asked quickly. His gaze flicked to me, curled up next to him, still wearing my house shoes and pajamas. No makeup, no cover-up; I would be the talk of the town the next morning, I knew it. 

“Pastor Teagardin?” I clarified, and Arvin nodded. “No. He tried, though, I think. Once.” 

“Ya think?” Arvin repeated. “God damn it, Y/N, what he’d do to you?” 

“He didn’t do nothing,” I said quickly. “He’s old enough to be my daddy, ya know how sick that is?” 

“You said he tried,” Arvin rebutted. “Tried to do what?” 

I huffed out a breath. “I stayed after a service on Wednesday night a few months ago to help Mrs. Teagardin gather up hymns and stuff. She went off to do something, and Brother Preston approached me. Said he… Said he saw me hanging out with you… Saw us drinking and smoking… And he said I gotta repent for my sins. Jesus, the man thought we fucked. He made me get down on my knees to pray, but I heard his belt ‘fore anything happened. Told him I’d call the sheriff on him if he tried anything like that again.” 

Arvin breathed deeply, his grip tightening on the steering wheel. “That’s three,” he said. “You, the Reaster girl… and Lenora.” 

My heart sank into my stomach. As much as I loved Lenora, she was naive. From the day that she was born, she trusted everybody. If she had ever been with someone, they took advantage of her. Maybe not with violence, but advantage nonetheless. “No,” I mumbled. “He didn’t… Not her.” 

“Coroner said Lenora was pregnant,” Arvin told me. He situated his cigarette in his mouth, and his hand floated down to rest on my knee. “I just know it was him. Who the fuck else would it be?”

“Arvin, what’re you doing?” I asked. “Where’re we going?”

“I’m going down to that church,” Arvin began. “And I’m killing that son of a bitch Pastor Teagardin.” 

“Arvin!” I yelped. “You’re not! You can’t-- How--?”

The car rolled to a stop in front of the small church, the gravel crunching under the tires. Arvin squeezed my knee, shutting me up, and he leaned forward and dug around behind him for a moment. Slowly, from the back of his pants, Arvin pulled out a small revolver gun. My breath caught in my throat; Arvin was rough around the edges, sure, but never did I think I would see him with a gun in his hands. My Arvin looked so unsure of the weapon, but his thumb clicked the hammer back, readying it to shoot, and I saw something behind his eyes change. He wasn’t vindictive, but revenge was a choice that had to be made. Arvin made his choice. 

“A German luger,” Arvin mumbled, his cigarette still in his mouth. “My daddy told my uncle Earvell that it’s the gun Hitler killed himself with.” 

I couldn’t manage any words. My lips fell open in shock, my brain struggling to make any coherent thought out of what was happening. “Arvin,” I finally choked out. “You ain’t really gonna kill Pastor Teagardin, are you?” 

“He killed my sister,” Arvin said, his voice low in his chest. “He tried to hurt you. Who says he won’t try that shit again?” 

“Arvin, you don’t need to avenge me,” I said quickly. My hands grasped his, and I fumbled with his fingers to release the gun. “Lenora wouldn’t want this.” 

“How do you know?” Arvin asked. His eyes, the color of dark West Virginian molasses, locked on mine, and his hands came up to capture my face. He was shaking violently, and I wasn’t sure that he would even be able to hold his gun. “None of us will ever know what Lenora would want. I knew her better than goddamn anyone else on this earth, and I think I know. I know, Y/N. And even if he didn’t manage to hurt you, it’s the thought that he would try that-- I don’t know how many other girls he’s got to. I’m doing this whole damn town a service by getting rid of him.” 

I gulped in a breath, trying to stop myself from crying. “What’re ya gonna do once you’re done?” I asked. “You can’t stay here.” 

“I’m not,” Arvin said. “I don’t know where I’m gonna go, but far away from fuckin’ Coal Creek. I want you to come with me.” 

“Arv, I got my family here,” I said quickly. “My momma and my daddy, I can’t just leave them.” 

“Y/N,” Arvin sighed heavily. His eyes softened and his thumb pressed into my cheek kindly, and he said, “I can’t leave you here. I love you too damn much.” 

“Arvin Russell, I love you too, but I--” I began. “I can’t.”

“Y/N,” Arvin said firmly. “I love you. And I want you to come with me.” 

This was different. Arvin had told me that he loved me before, but I always thought he had meant “as a friend” or “as a sister”. Had I been mistaken this whole time? Did Arvin care for me differently than he could ever care for Lenora? “You…” I started. “You love me?” 

“I’ve loved you since the day I laid my eyes on you,” Arvin told me. “Fucking seventh grade, your hair was in these little braids, you offered me a seat on the school bus. I thought it was… A crush. But Lenora showed me real love, and I know that I love you. I have always loved you, Y/N. Please, wherever I go, I can’t go without you. I need you, love.” 

Tears were welled up in Arvin’s eyes, and he sniffled back his emotions. I hated that. Arvin always tried to hide his emotions and, ever since I had known him, he had only cried in front of me once: the night Lenora died, he came to my house, eyes puffy, and he buried his head in my chest and heaved sobs into me. The strangled sounds of anguish had stayed with me and haunted me in the night, and I never wanted to see Arvin hurting like that again. “Okay,” I whispered. “I’ll come with you.” 

Arvin nodded slowly. The tip of his tongue wet his bottom lip as he looked behind me to the small church, Pastor Teagardin’s fancy Cadillac parked in front. “Now, I don’t know what’s gonna happen in there,” he began. “Gimme an hour. If I ain’t back by then, leave. Get outta here, you never knew me. Alright?” 

“You don’t think you’d…” I started, and the ache in my heart forced me to stop talking. “Don’t die, Arv. My heart couldn’t take it.” A moment passed where the both of us were still and silent, and finally Arvin’s hand carefully moved to the back of my neck. Quietly, he pulled me close to him and pressed his lips to mine, and my stomach flipped around inside of my body. I had never kissed anyone before, but his kiss felt right. Arvin broke the kiss first, his lips lingering just before mine, and I thought about how my momma had told me that boys didn’t like when girls made the first move. Arvin had kissed me first, though, so, if I kissed back, that wasn’t making the first move. My momma was forever concerned with how people saw me, but, if I was going to run away with a man about to murder, I felt like maybe those societal pleasantries could be pushed aside. 

I took Arvin’s coat collar in my hands and tugged him closer, and I reconnected our lips. Arvin was on the same page as me, his hands falling to my waist as easily as if he had done it a hundred times before. His kiss was hungry, like a man depraved, and he guided me to lean against the car door. He moved on top of me, one hand moving above my head to brace against the car door, his other hand pushing my shirt up to expose my stomach. I knew he wanted to see more but was waiting for my permission, and I broke the kiss with a laugh. “This ain’t like ya, Arv,” I giggled. 

Arvin seemed to almost wake up, and he moved away from me. “Sorry,” he said, his voice rumbling. “Don’t know what got into me--”

“I didn’t tell you to stop,” I told him. “I was saying that you don’t normally ask for permission to do things, you just… Do.” 

“When it comes to pretty girls, I always ask,” Arvin told me. He hovered over me again, his eyes drinking in the sight of me, and I pushed the rugged ball cap off of his head to expose his chestnut hair. 

“Got a lotta experience with pretty girls, huh?” I asked, and the corner of Arvin’s mouth quirked into a devilish smile. 

“Well, we doin’ this now, ain’t we?” Arvin asked. “I’m thinking this is all the experience I need.” 

“Shut your fucking mouth and kiss me, Arv,” I scoffed, and Arvin dove back in. His palm rested on my jaw, his thumb on my cheek, and he kissed me like nobody has ever kissed me. His warm tongue was inside my mouth, drawing quiet moans from the depths of my chest, and his free hand pulled my shirt up, up, up, until I was forced to pull away from his mouth to tug it over my head. My mouth felt chapped from his dark stubble, but my breasts welcomed the roughness. He kissed my mouth, then my neck, then situated himself to bury his face between my breasts. He kissed them, then took one in his hand and squeezed until I whimpered, and I felt him smirk against my tender skin. 

“Ya like that, darlin’?” Arvin rasped, and I nodded quickly. “I thought so. You’re making such damn pretty noises, I could listen forever.” 

Arvin’s kisses trailed down the middle of my chest, then his mouth refocused on my nipple, stiffened with excitement. His tongue circled it and he gave it a hard suck, hard enough for me to yelp and pull at his hair. This seemed to urge him on, because he started to kiss and gently nip all over my breasts. My skin tingled with each kiss, and his knee found its way between my legs. His thigh pressed lightly into my already-soaked core, and I suddenly felt like I was suffocating with the heat inside of the car. “Arv, shit, hold on,” I mumbled and lifted my hips to take my pants off. His free hand came down and helped me, and his warm palm replaced his thigh once I was bare. 

Not once had I ever been touched there. The feeling was foreign but not unwelcome, especially since it was Arvin. I panted, trying to sort myself out, and Arvin pressed a soft kiss to the shell of my ear. “You alright there, darlin’?” he asked, his hand melting away from my body. “Need me to stop?” 

“No,” I said. “Keep going, Arv. Please. I’ll die if you don’t keep on.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Arvin chuckled, and his hand went back to my cunt. The pad of his middle finger massaged my wetness, and he pushed his finger past my folds and carefully pressed just the tip of his finger into me. I moaned at the sweet goodness of it all, and I opened my eyes to see Arvin watching me. He didn’t seem to be studying me-- his eyebrows weren’t drawn together in consideration-- but he seemed to be admiring me. I tugged him down to my lips by his hair and kissed him, and his finger pressed further into me. Arvin’s kiss moved to my neck, and he slowly began to pump his finger inside of me. I never knew anything could feel so good. “More,” I whispered, my head falling back to expose my throat to him, and he nipped at my throat before he pushed his ring finger in to meet his middle finger. “Fuck, Arv, this ain’t fair at all,” I gasped. 

“What d’ya mean, darlin’?” Arvin asked, his fingers moving with increasing quickness inside me, massaging something in me that I didn’t know existed. It made my legs shake. 

“Arvin,” I whimpered. “Take-- Oh, fuck!” His fingers had pressed right into that sweet spot in my body, and the pleasure made my middle seize up. “T-Take off those goddamn pants, please.” 

“Always so polite,” Arvin smirked. His fingers retreated from me and, in the fading sunlight coming through the sweating windows, I saw my wetness glistening on his fingers as he undid his belt. He whipped his belt off and tossed it into the backseat before he started to take off his ripped and dirty work pants. Arvin worked on the roads and I knew that the hard labor had gotten him fit, but, as I pulled his shirt off while he removed his pants, I was faced with his body. His chest and stomach were as hard as a rock, his muscles taut under his skin, and his arms bulged with a tight but lithe strength. His middle came down in a sharp V to his cock, half-hard, the tip flushed, resting on one of his built thighs. I had never really paid attention to how attractive Arvin was-- he had a nice face and gave me tight hugs, but that was about as far as I thought of his body or attractiveness. Arvin was so much more than attractive, though. The sight of his body, tanned and scarred and built like an Italian statue, made me face a truth that might have been hard to swallow twenty minutes ago. 

“Arvin,” I whispered, pressing my hand to his face. His cheek was warm under my fingers, and his jaw clenched as he awaited my words. “Fuck me, Arvin. I want you.” 

“That’s what I was planning on doin’, darlin’,” Arvin drawled, and his hand went to his cock. He stroked himself a few times until he was fully hard, and, by then, he had a thin sheen on sweat on his upper lip. Maybe it wasn’t our clothes that made me sweat and suffocate; it was hot as the devil in this car. The windows were fogged up against the cool West Virginia night, and I reached up and pushed Arvin’s sweaty curls from his forehead. The moment of tenderness seemed to stop Arvin in his tracks, because his eyes lifted from himself to mine, and he gave me an uncharacteristically-sheepish smile. “Everything alright there?” 

“Oh, I’m more than alright, Arv,” I whispered. “Just lookin’ at you.” The sunset, nearly done, cast orange light into the car, right onto Arvin’s face, and it caught the flush in his cheeks. 

“I…” he started. “I ain’t ever done this before. Never got this far with a girl before.” 

“Me neither,” I said. “I haven’t even been kissed before tonight.” 

“You still want to…” Arvin began. His cockiness was gone, replaced with a tender intimacy that I was surprised to see existed inside of Arvin Russell. 

“I do,” I said. “If it means I get a few extra minutes with you ‘fore you go confront Pastor Teagardin.” 

“That’s not the only reason, is it?” Arvin asked. 

“Of course not,” I told him. “I just don’t…” I paused and struggled for the right words. “Don’t want you to get hurt.” 

“I won’t,” Arvin said. “Son of a bitch ain’t even got a gun.”

The reminder of what Arvin had yet to do made me feel sick to my stomach. My Arvin wasn’t a murderer; was he? I felt the sick rise in my throat, and I struggled to open the car door and contort myself to vomit out into the gravel and grass. I felt Arvin take a handful of my loose hair and hold it away from my face, and I gasped as I felt the burning in my nose. “I shouldn’t’ve said that shit,” Arvin whispered in my ear. “I’m sorry, love.” 

“So!” A man’s voice called, and I lifted my head to see Pastor Preston Teagardin standing a few yards away from the car, but certainly close enough to know what Arvin and I had been doing. “Couldn’t handle him, could ya, girly? Y’all got a little trigger in the back of y’all’s throats, ya know. Might do you good to remember that.” 

“Shut the fuck up,” Arvin barked. His pants rustled as he pulled them back on, and he gave me his shirt to pull on quickly. My hands were shaking nearly too hard for me to dress myself, but I managed to put his shirt on my body. I shut the car door behind me as Arvin opened his, and I shoved the gun into the back of his pants quickly. I hoped that Pastor Teagardin hadn’t seen that. “Don’t you talk ‘bout my Y/N like that.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry!” Pastor Teagardin drawled, his voice dripping sarcasm like honey. ”I thought y’all were the ones fucking at the church!”

“You gotta lotta nerve talkin’ to me like that,” Arvin shouted. His voice bounced around the empty space, sending a chill up my spine. I grabbed my panties and pulled them on as I listened to the confrontation, and, even though I didn’t care too much for God, I made a quick prayer to protect my Arvin. “After what you did to my sister and my wife.” 

Wife. Was he saying that to give himself humility? To add credence to his argument? No matter the reason, even if it was a slip of the tongue, it warmed my stomach and cemented in my mind that Arvin really did love me. 

“What I did--!” Teagardin scoffed. “Your sister got in that state with some boy! She was delusional, got it in her head that I was the daddy and that I would provide! I had nothing to do with that bastard child! And your wife! Your wife? Who, the whore of Coal Creek, tryna fuck you on top of your sister’s grave?” 

Arvin moved as quick as lightning, drawing his gun and focusing it on Teagardin. I saw the pastor flinch away and he shouted, “God damn it, boy! Put the gun down and we can talk ‘bout this like real men!”

Arvin’s thumb pulled back the hammer and I heard the solid click of a bullet entering the chamber. “I’m more of a man than you’ll ever be,” Arvin said, scarily calm. 

“What makes you say that?” Teagardin asked. “‘Cause you’ve got a gun?” 

“Any man can have a gun,” Arvin said. “It’s ‘cause I got the balls to use it.”

The gun went off, and the air froze. The second felt like a vacuum, forever expanding. I saw Arvin jolt away from the gunshot, I saw his arm kick up at the force of the gun, and I saw the back of Pastor Teagardin’s head explode like it had been detonated from inside.

I didn’t even realize that I was screaming. It hurt my throat and rang in my ears but I didn’t register it. It wasn’t until Arvin threw the car door open and kneeled down next to me that I became aware of what I was doing, but I couldn’t stop. Arvin’s face screwed up in anger and he slammed his hand down on the roof of the car hard enough to leave a dent. “God damn it, woman, shut your fucking mouth!” Arvin growled. “Someone’s gonna hear you!”

“Arvin,” I gasped. My entire body was shaking and the sick feeling returned. “Arvin, you--” 

“I know what I did,” Arvin whispered firmly. “I know… Did you see where the bullet shell went?” 

I shook my head quickly, my knees crawling up to press against my chest protectively. “No,” I sniffled. I was crying. “Arvin, we gotta leave here.” 

“I know, love,” Arvin whispered. He sat in front of me for a second more before putting a shaking hand on my knee in a meek act of comfort. “You can go home. You can pretend like none of this ever happened.” 

“How do I…” I began. “I’m never gonna be able to forget that… Looked like pie filling… And I can’t lose you, Arvin. Not-Not after I just got you the way I want you.” 

“You really wanna come with me?” Arvin asked. “Ya sure?” 

“Yes,” I told him. “I’m sure, Arvin. Please, fuck, get in the car, we need to go.” 

Arvin returned to the car and we quietly put all of our clothes back on. Arvin gave me a bundle of floral fabric to wear instead of my pajamas, and I unraveled it to find a young woman’s dress. My heart sank and I looked at Arvin for an explanation, and he mumbled, “S’not Lenora’s. Found it in a box of my momma’s stuff, looked like your size.” 

“You brought a dress along before you knew I’d agree to come with you?” I asked. I slipped off Arvin’s shirt and put the dress on and, when my head emerged, I found Arvin giving me that same tender look from before. “Unless you always knew I’d come with.” 

“That’s the thing ‘bout you, love,” Arvin chuckled lightly. “You’re usually so predictable.” 

As we left, I gave one last look to Pastor Teagardin’s body, laying in the grass and gravel, never knowing what happened to him. He heard the gunshot; maybe he felt the pain of the back of his skull exploding outward. As I watched his body disappear with the distance, I felt like I knew him well. He was a man-- a wicked man, yes-- but he preached it best. It wasn’t worth much to put up a fight against the sins of the flesh. 

I wrapped my hands around Arvin’s free arm as he drove, and I pressed myself into him. Night fell as we drove, leaving our headlights to be the sole light, and it was once I saw a broke-down sign saying that we had entered Ohio that I thought to ask, “Where’re we going?” 

“Knockemstiff, Ohio. I wanna go bury my dog and this gun and start over… With you.”

[maki-matsurra]

Fight | Chapter 5: Everything is Doubled (Sam & Max x !Child Reader fanfic)

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⚠️TW: Descriptions of Violence, Descriptions of Gore, Constant Swearing⚠️

(Y/N) sniffled quietly in their chair, still duck-taped in it. However, they were dragged back to their old room with the large hole in the floor, but since they were currently… well… stuck to a chair, the hole was pointless now.

Fresh tears rolled down their face as they continued to look down at their knees. They should have been quicker… should have been stronger, should have fought back more, should have-

They flinched as they heard something move from inside the hole, their breath quickening and their eyes wide as their body shook as much as it could in fear.

‘This is it, I’m going to get eaten by an animal.’

‘I won’t ever see Papa or Daddy ever again.’

Suddenly, two long, white, and fluffy ears popped out of the hole, making the child flinch a bit, but stared at them in confusion.

‘Why do those look so familiar…’

‘Wait…’

Soon a Luger was pointed out of the hole, then, a body to the set of ears.

In front of them, with its back turned…

Was their Papa…

It was Max.

He scanned the room with a hardened glare and gun at the ready, turning slowly, that’s when he placed his brown eyes on his child.

“Oh my god, (Y/N)!” He rushed towards them, dropping his Luger on the floor, making them lurch forward as much as they could as more tears fell out of their (E/C) eyes. “Papa! Papa!”

“Oh my baby! My sweet baby, Oh my god.” Max said shakily, holding them close and petting their hair to try and stop his tears from welling up and falling out of his eyes. He pulled away to examine their (S/C) face, smiling at them in relief that they were somewhat okay and unharmed.

“Papa, I-I’m so so sorry, I should have stayed at the school and w-wa-waited for godmother S-Sybil, I-I’m so sorry P-Papa, I’m so sorry-“

“Shhh, shh shh, baby, it’s okay.” Max hushed, wiping their tears away and placing gentle kisses on their cheeks. “What matters is that I found you, and you’re safe now. Speaking of which…” He glanced down at their duck-tape bonds.

“I’m gonna cut you loose, okay baby? Don’t move otherwise I may accidentally cut you too.” Max looked at them, pulling his knife out of his holster on his upper leg, making them nod as he slowly and gently got to work, letting (Y/N) watch him as he did so.

Unbeknownst to them, the door to the room silently opened, the teen didn’t lock the door, since he really didn’t find a reason to anymore, he saw the Lagomorph sawing away at the duck-tape, holding his own knife in hand, he slowly crept towards the pair

But this got the child’s attention, as they glanced up and let out a scream, making Max look up at them before turning around, coming face to face with the kidnapper, he rolled out of the way as soon as the teen slammed his knife downward.

The two males looked at the Luger across the room, and they both raced for it, but sadly, the kidnapper was quicker, kicking it down the hole and throwing a punch to Max, who blocked it with his upper left arm as he growled, pushing away and rolling backwards on his feet as he re-adjusted his grip on his own knife. “Let’s dance, bitch.”

The teen growled at this, charging at Max who hopped and slid around to dodge his slices, using his small size to his advantage, he soon jumped on the desk in the room, dodging another downwards swipe, and jumped on the kidnapper’s upper torso, growling and going in for the kill, but that’s when he felt a huge burning sensation in his upper right thigh, making him scream out in agony. As the kidnapper pushed him off, letting his head hit the wall and hit the floor with a thud, he heard his child yell for him as blood poured from his wound onto the wooden floors.

His vision was going blurry and dark as he reached out for his child, “N-No… (Y-Y/N)…”

The last thing he saw was the teenager’s shoes before he blacked out.

‘Hey! If you’re hearing this, my phone either got blown up or destroyed, or I just don’t like talking to you, but leave a message anyways! I like laughing and making fun of them.’

*Beep*

“Max, please pick up the phone… I-I know that you’re probably still mad at me… and now probably annoyed since this is my 8th time calling today, but I’m getting worried about you little buddy, just… please call me back. I love you, always have, always will.”

Sam finished his message and place his smartphone on a desk in the police office he was in, rubbing his hands on his face as he let out a growl.

His ear perked up as he heard something being place on his desk, he moved his hands to see it was a cup of coffee, offered by Savannah.

“You looked like you could use this.” She smiled, sitting across from him, making him mumble a; “Thanks.” before sipping on it.

“…Have you gotten in touch with him, yet?”

“No… And it’s worrying me…”

“You think Max actually went to find the kidnapper?”

Sam nodded. “Without a doubt. He wouldn’t miss a chance on spilling some blood, especially when it has our child involved.” His dark brown eyes soon drifted to the golden band on his finger, looking at it with sad eyes and a soft whine. This was his karma, because he didn’t trust his little buddy and husband, he lost him and his child. This made the agent place a soft hand on his own, causing him to look at her.

“We’ll find them. Both of them. I know the ‘old-fashioned way’ is a lot slower, but it will get you your child home safely. I promise.”

He smiled at this. “I… Thank you, Savannah… I… I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m actually glad I met you.”

“Same here… I will say, for Freelance Police officers, you guys aren’t bad in the field at all.” She smirked, leaning back in her chair, letting go of his hand. This made the dog chuckle, before his eyes wandered to her stomach.

“How is.. Uhm… You know…” Sam gestured to his own stomach, making her laugh. “I’m fine, thanks for asking though. I get a little bit more tired now, but other than that, I’m good.”

“Just making sure, I don’t want another Sybil-like event happening.”

“I still can’t believe that happened. Like, that is literally out of this world crazy-“

She soon shut up as the monitor next to Sam lit up, revealing someone sent in another piece of evidence. The dog clicked on the box and waited for it to load up, nervous about what he was going to see.

And when it finished loading, the pair’s eyes widened as it was the teenager again, showing another video in his mask getup with (Y/N) shaking in their strapped up chair.

“I-I told you guys n-not to poke around! Do you guys want me to kill them?!” The teen yelled, seeming more nervous and furious. “I just wanted the damn money! That’s all I wanted!”

Sam’s mouth felt dry as he continued his tantrum, but he soon saw the teen calm down. “I-I want double the money now. $50,000, if not, I-I will kill both of them.”

The teenager moved aside to show the canine his worst nightmare.

Max and (Y/N), both kidnapped, both strapped to chairs.

But instead of Max being duck-taped to his chair, it seemed he was tied by some tight rope around his wrists and ankles, he also noted that Max was injured in his upper right thigh area that was bandaged crudely by some kind of white cloth.

“Oh! Is it my time to shine now? Hi World!” Max cheered smartly at the camera.

‘Max… For once in your life… Shut up… Please…’ Sam prayed and pleaded in his mind as his dark brown eyes was glued to the monitor.

“Sam! You owe me a big one! I actually found this kid’s hideout. He’s a complete dumbass with this type of thing-“

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!” The teen roared, stepping back into the frame and pointing Max’s Luger at him, making the child flinch on screen with a scared, teary-eyed face, while Sam and Savannah looked shocked at the screen.

“What? Is the poor wittle baby going cry cause he’s getting bullied by a bunny wabbit? Do me a favor kid, go cry me a fucking river-“

Everyone flinched at a loud bang and a flash of light.

The kidnapper shot Max in the upper left shoulder, making him yell out in pain and (Y/N) to sob, almost borderline wail. Sam and Savannah jumped up from their seats.

“MAX!”

“No!”

“Oh, shit… oh shit oh shit oh shit…” The teen mumbled as he nervously ran his fingers through his brown hair, shocked by what he did, quickly turning off the camera, thus ending the video feed.

It was quiet in the office and between them, no one daring to make a move.

*CRASH*

“SAM!”

Savannah looked at the dog with a wide eyed expression, shocked at what she just saw.

Sam punched the monitor, sending glass everywhere, and his knuckles to start bleeding. He soon moved his fist back down to his side, still glaring at that damned screen.

“S-Sam…?” The agent questioned, warily putting a hand on his shoulder, making him look at her with a dark look she has never seen him wear before.

“This kid is dead.”

[softliebgott]

LEFT BEHIND — Ron Speirs

Hi, dear! Would you mind writing some Ron Speirs fiction please? 😉 Here’s the prompt: the girl is some sort of German nurse or town girl or perhaps POW that happened to be left in a town the company had come to invade or something like that  - Anonymous

WARNING(s): Violence

Masterlist + Taglist + a playlist for our favorite klepto

@general-taylor @mgdln97 @gottapenny @endorians @morgan108 @thegermansarebad @snafus-peckuh @wexhappyxfew @scarecrowmax @ineffablewants @junojelli @inglourious-imagines @sunflowerchuck @alienoresimagines @fandomscenariosforyou @ray--person @noneofurbusinez @tvserie-s-world @keoghans @hellitwasyoufirstsergeant @mrseasycompany @vintagelavenderskies @mrsalwayswrite @meteora-fc @order-of-river-phoenix @stressedinadress @50svibes @thoughpoppiesblow @now-im-a-belieber

January, 1945 Foy, Belgium

THE SERPENT CALLED WAR, a bloody one night stand between Ares and Athena, always shed its skin. War always changed, and it would always come back in dreams or in the form of wounds. It couldn’t be hidden away like the darkness Ron tried to keep in his subconscious. If he deferred the dark, his gift would be diminished; to be able to be an unknown god of war. And gods like him wished to cry gold, but blood was easier.

He wandered the village, a reaper among the shadows. Any German left would be his. There was something about the silence of winter that felt too fragile, like a bubble floating above water. He walked with more care.

You saw him through the window, and you could tell by his uniform he was not the enemy. You wanted him to know you were there, but the desperate German soldier keeping you locked down didn’t. We’ll be found eventually, you figured. Your teeth rattled like china plates in an earthquake. And this German pig doesn’t have it in him to shoot anyone. He’s too afraid. 

The American was about to leave your sight. His figure disappeared behind the door. Your breath caught in your chest. No, no. You glanced to the German. While he stared outside unblinking as an owl, you reached up to the table for the vase. You could hit him over the head with it and safely leave. 

When you saw the American reappear in the next window, your fingers met the cold skin of the vase. The German promptly yanked you away, but the vase met its fate on the floor. He secured an arm around you, pinning your arms to your sides, and forced you up to your feet. You felt the harsh kiss of a luger to your temple.

Outside, the American calmly approached; the visible breath smoking from his nose like a maddened dragon. He slipped behind the door again.

Your heart beat in your ears. Silence hung in the air like the blade of a guillotine just before it fell. You could feel the German shaking, and you knew it wasn’t from the cold.

Some moments later, he shouted his impatience in a strained voice. He dared the American to show himself.

The door burst open, and splinters spewed from the frame. Although his gun was at the ready Ron went rigid when he saw you. You resembled a porcelain doll against the cold; your lips no more than a purple scar. He would remember your eyes. He wouldn’t forget them as skin never forgot a tattoo. Your eyes had courage despite a gun to your head.

The German’s shouting dragged Ron back to reality. He didn’t understand what he was saying. With a rigor-mortis grip on his M3 submachine gun, he raised it to the German’s eye level. “Drop it. Drop it!” His tone echoed thunder, and he slowly moved forward.

Your head ached from the yelling. Their voices intensified, and from the corner of your vision the German pulled the trigger. You clenched your jaw.

Nothing happened.

In a panic, the German kept pulling the trigger until he shoved you aside and tried to, what you assumed, find another weapon on himself.

Ron stalked toward him. He preferred to do this quiet lest he drew attention. 

The German packed himself away in the corner, frantic and still pointing his luger.

Ron easily disarmed him and struck him across the face with the end of the luger. Blood erupted from his mouth and he stumbled against the wall. Ron discarded the luger and pulled out his bayonet knife. Only one way out of this, he thought. And it won’t be quick. 

Pinning the German, he drove the knife through the bottom of his jaw. He had seen the whites of many men’s eyes, but it was a treat to see his blade peeking in the back of the German’s agape mouth. Blood poured from his wound onto Ron’s hand like gravy over a fine meal.

He removed the knife and let the body slump to the floor like some ungainly, life-sized doll. After wiping the blade clean on the German’s shoulder, he faced you. He expected to see some sort of disgust or fear from you. His own comrades viewed him through lenses of rumors; a death omen with a knack for offering cigarettes first.

Looking at you, he didn’t see it. He could tell by the way you softened you were tired, and relieved. 

“Are you okay to walk?” He asked.

You definitely had the energy to walk out of this house. You had been stuck here since the Germans occupied Foy in December. 23 days. You took advantage of them and wooed them into being acquaintances. They kept you fed, but they wouldn’t let you leave.

“Yes,” you replied. “Thank you.” Since the Americans’ descent on the village, you hadn’t eaten all day.

Ron slung his M3 over his shoulder and let you walk out first. You didn’t have as much energy as you thought. Light-headedness swept over you, blinding your senses. Numb, your legs folded, but Ron caught you. 

He secured an arm under your knees and lifted you into his arms. His warmth contrasted starkly to how cold you felt, and he smelled of cigarettes, blood, and smoke, but you had never felt safer with someone since the war started. You had wondered if you would ever find a song worth listening to in all this. His heart beat was it; the calm in chaos you needed, and you fell asleep to it.

&&&&

Your needs were tended to in the convent. All the forlorn, grimy faces in the pews reminded you how you loathed war. This one was worth it to fight, but the casualties weren’t just body counts. You could tell many of the men were trapped in their own wars, and they didn’t have the strength to hide it. Your heart hurt for them, and you had decided to join the nuns in helping the men.

Ron took the chance to talk with you when he was done with Lipton. He didn’t know why, but whenever his eyes wandered they knew where to find you. You were sitting on a pew cocooned in a wool blanket, presumably taking a break. The candle lights’ glow softened your features, and he wondered what you’d look like in the morning sun next to him. He hadn’t seen a field of flowers in years, but he knew he’d look at you first.

He might not see you after this night, and that troubled him because he wanted to. Maybe a little selfishly.

Approaching you wasn’t easy. He could run back and forth across Foy, but you made him nervous. When he neared you and you smiled, it became easier.

“I, uh.” Ron gripped his arms. “I didn’t catch your name.”

“(Y/N).” You adored his nervous stature. “And you?”

“Ron Speirs.” He worked up the courage for a small smile. 

“I didn’t properly thank you for ridding of that German for me.”

“No need. That’s what we’re here for.”

“Will you...be staying here long?” You gripped your blanket.

“We’ll most likely be gone by morning.”

“Oh.”

“That’s uh - I wanted to talk to you about that.” He felt as though someone was jump-roping in his stomach, and he forced himself to blurt out the words no matter how much his heart hiccupped. “I want to know you.”

“Me t--” Horrified by your impulsive response, you shook your head and promptly corrected yourself. “I mean, really?” You murmured.

His eyes shone, and his real, natural smile came through. He rarely let that slip, but he was ready to let them all through with you. “I would like to.”

You patted the space next to you.

He settled by your side, not being shy with his thigh pressed to yours. He knew this night with you would be worth losing sleep for. After all, the stars would go out before he would forget you.

And Lipton would never hear the end of it.

[fericita-s]

Resistance

@jomiddlemarch wrote this war/pregnancy/Helnik drabble and very generously said I could expand upon it. Thank you! @sagiow helped me with the French, for which I say merci beaucoup! @theburnbarreljester beta-ed and encouraged and cajoled and gave me the blessed image of “oh no they have to have sex to stay undercover at a brothel” and from there it really just writes itself. Thanks for continuing to “yes and” my writing into existence and for the delightful chats about it. And check out this moodboard by @mszenik which is gorgeous and something I definitely stared at a lot while writing.

Chapter 1

“In here,” Nina said, her ears straining to hear jackboots on cobblestones. She opened the door and trusted Matthias to follow her, even though the perfume wafting out of La Rose Blanche was heavy enough to make their eyes water and the half-dressed women in the doorway leered at them both. Nina heard Madame Inessa shout, “Top floor! Clean enough for you, usual charge!” as they ran up the stairs.

If they weren’t currently running from soldiers who wanted them both dead, Nina might have taken joy from the looks the working girls gave Matthias as he ran behind her, not even out of breath and his broad shoulders straining the seams of the borrowed coat. She shed her wig and her coat as they ran, wrapping them around the Luger she’d hidden at her waist and then worked the buttons one-handed at her front until she could shrug off her blouse as well.

By the time they were in the garret room Nina only had her skirt, undergarments, and boots to deal with and made quick work of piling them all in the corner with the Luger safely underneath it all. She turned to Matthias who was stooped under the sloping eaves, his eyes wide as he looked at her, his gaze landing on her lips.

She couldn’t believe how prim he remained even when she was stark naked in front of him. He was always covering her with shawls and blankets when they strategized in the dim light of rationed candles if even a wrist or a hint of her collar bone was exposed, frowning as he sat at least a full foot away from her. Now her bare chest was heaving with the effort of running up the stairs. At the distant sound of the front door opening she froze.

Madame Inessa’s voice was muffled but they could make out her leisurely tone and her broken German. “Welcome, soldier. What’s your pleasure?”

Nina reached for Matthias’s coat. “Off,” she whispered, harshly, “He’ll be here in a second.”

His brow furrowed and Nina had the distinct impression he would rather jump out of the fourth floor garret window than go along with her plan, but angrily barked orders in German were now coming up the stairs and Nina pulled at his sleeve again. He kicked off his boots while she took off his coat and hat and soon the pile of clothes looked like a haphazard collection of garments two lovers might cast off in a hurry to seek pleasure in one another’s bodies.

She grabbed his wrists and then pulled him to the bed. He grunted as he landed on top of her and reached for the threadbare quilt to cover them both. His skin against hers was as intoxicating as the fear coursing through her and as the door to their room opened, she wrapped her legs around his waist and the cry of pleasure she gave was at least half real.

He grunted again in surprise, bucking away from her before the soldier was fully in their room. Matthias finally acted the part by burying his face in her neck, his hands in her hair and the quilt tight around them both.

Nina cocked an eyebrow at the soldier and gave a throaty laugh. “I didn’t know this was going to be a party. Have you already settled up with Madame Inessa down below?”

The soldier startled and drew back, his hand falling from the gun at his waist. He was a boy, really, beginning to blush as he took in the clothes on the floor and the motion on the bed as Matthias continued to move on top of her. “I am looking for two spies. They came this way.”

“Get out,” Matthias said, and if NIna’s heart stuttered at the way he growled it, she told herself it was because it was one of about seven words he knew in German and if he had to switch to Norwegian, the Nazi would surely know they were the spies in question.

“I don’t think he likes to share,” she said, making sure her German sounded like a woman who’d learned it from servicing soldiers and not from years of study at university. Her accent was Parisian, not a trace of her true Russian, but if he examined their clothes he’d find several passports and of course the Luger, the reason for this whole mess in the first place.

Madame Inessa was in the doorway now, her hand on her chest as she breathed heavily from her trek up the stairs. “Sir, we have many lovely girls downstairs that would please you. Grace here is most popular, you’ll have to wait a while before she can be yours.”

The boy soldier was now backing out of the room, his cheeks flaming red as she shook his head and mumbled about searching the next house. Madame Inessa closed the door behind her as she escorted him down the stairs.

There was a moment where Matthias was above her, his face drawn back enough to look into her eyes, then again at her lips. And then he rolled off of her, collapsing next to her on the narrow bed with a deep sigh and his mouth open, their legs still entwined.

“We could have kept some of our clothes on,” he whispered.

“I needed the clothes to hide the gun,” she said, more by pointing than by risking openly talking.

“We could have hidden the gun in the bed, with us.”

“I don’t know what you know about firearms but keeping one pressed against my body while ours are pressed against each other could end very badly. Assuming you plan to use the parts God gave you that seem to be in fine working order.”

He clutched at the quilt. She wanted to smirk, to tease, to laugh, but the soldier was still in the house somewhere and a whispered argument was only making their situation worse. Nina tried to slow her breathing and rubbed her thumb against her neck, feeling the pulse point there and willing herself to calm down. She shuddered and then Matthias propped himself up on an elbow and leaned over her.

“Are you alright?” He adjusted the quilt so that it left him bare but her covered, his fingers lightly trailing along her shoulders as he brought the quilt to her neck. When he gently tucked a strand of mussed hair behind her ear, Nina shivered. He cradled her cheek in his large hand, his thumb moving steadily across her cheekbone. “Are you thinking he’ll come back?”

Nina swallowed. “If he does, the best thing we can be doing is proving that we’re only here for a...liaison.”

Matthias’s hand froze on her cheek and he shook his head. “I’ll not make you play the whore for my safety.”

“Please,” she said, and he went even more still beside her. “I want to feel something besides fear. Besides terror. Can we pretend to just be two people here for a good time? Can’t you pretend to like me?”

“I would never come to a place like this for a good time,” he said, and he moved to smooth the quilt around her shoulders, to unwrap his leg from hers. She scowled.

“Matthias Helvar, the last moral man in the midst of a world war,” she said, because in that moment it seemed to be true and it annoyed her.

“But I do like you.” He sounded pained as he said it.

“Is that so bad?”

“Yes!” It was a shout, but Nina supposed there were worse things he could shout from their bed in a brothel and at least this one wouldn’t blow their cover.

“Why?”

“We’re in a war. Liking anyone is a liability.”

“That’s not true. That can’t be true. Why do you even want to smuggle guns to the escape network if that’s true?”

“Because it’s the right thing to do.”

“Do you always do the right thing?”

“I try to.”

He looked so earnest as he said it, and his hand was still on her cheek, and the heat of his body was so warm against the steady stream of winter air coming in from the broken attic window. She turned her head to kiss his palm and then pulled the quilt off of her shoulders and put it around them both, lifting herself slightly off of the bed to press her chest into his.

“Please, Matthias. This is the right thing right now.”

There were shouts and doors slamming in the streets below, shrill whistles and demands to open up barked in angry German. Nina closed her eyes, breathing shakily.

“They’re gone. They won’t come back. We’re safe here, Nina.”

“You don’t - “ she started to say, but then her mouth was covered by Matthias’s and her mind was mercifully quiet. Her worry and fear receded, replaced by desire and the thrilling sensation of Matthias covering her body with his, Matthias running his hands down her breasts and then gripping her thighs, Matthias tangling his hands in her hair and gripping her tightly as she moaned. She ran her fingertips across his broad shoulders and then down his back as the rhythmic movement of the bed and his increasingly erratic breaths by her ear crowded out all other noise and all other thoughts besides her need and his body.

[rawiswhore]

Brian Pillman x Fem Reader- "Off My Chest"

If you watch the 1st clip of Brian Pillman's "XXX Files", there's a part where he films himself--specifically his chest and torso--walking to the bathroom while Terri Runnels/Marlena takes a shower.

During the part where he walks to the bathroom and films a closeup of his chest, his chest aroused you.

So much, that a few days after his first "XXX Files", you invited Brian to a hotel room, where you stood right next to him while his shirt was off.

When Brian was standing in the hotel room with you, his hair was dry and thick, not wet.

Even though you prefer Brian the way he looked in 1996, he did look good in the 1st "XXX Files" where he's laying in bed smoking a cigar.

As you stood next to Brian in this hotel room, one of your hands was placed on his chest, where your hand stroked vertically up and down the middle of his bare chest.

Your eyes were staring at his right pec as your hand caressed up and down his pecs.

Your other arm was wrapped around the back of his shoulderblades, pulling him close to you.

Brian had one of his arms slung behind your back while your side was touching his side.

He was feeling good at you stroking his chest, he was getting a grin spreading across his face and looking at your hand caressing his chest.

His cock was rising and growing harder underneath his pants, his jeans were feeling tighter.

"I loved it when you filmed your chest when you walked to the bathroom" you brought up while your hand stared at his pec. "You've got such a hot chest"

He also had a beautiful body when he dropped his towel and stood in front of the camera.

He might play a crazy, manic madman, but he has a delicious body.

"I love being so close to you" you confessed as your eyes studied his torso up and down. "Especially your chest"

Some people would not consider Brian, especially the current heel Brian that plays a crazy madman, to be sexy and hot.

Brian was getting sexually aroused over you stroking and caressing his chest.

Your hand on his torso swerved sideways to his left pec, where your fingers bunched up and tried grabbing his entire pec and squeezing his nipple.

Your fingers were trying to squeeze his pec.

Being so close to him, especially your face and head being close to his neck, you're seriously thinking of leaning and burying your face into his neck and kissing him there.

There's so much sexual tension between you and Brian right now.

While your other hand is squeezing his pec, you're thinking of stroking your other hand up and down his torso.

Brian is getting so aroused and so are you, maybe you and Brian need to sit on one of the beds to relax and he'll indulge in this.

Brian is a ladies man, which explains why he had kids by different wives, and he's loving the way your hand is stroking his chest.

Maybe Brian can have you, Sunny, Terri Runnels/Marlena and even Sable pleasuring him.

Brian was so satisfied deep down inside, wanting to slowly nod his head as he smiled his iconic shiteating grin while you stroked his chest, thinking "that's right, baby".

"Your body was sooooooooo sexy when you dropped that towel" you confessed "In that 1st 'Triple X Files', when you stood in front of that bed and camera"

Your hand squeezing one of his pecs swerved across to his other pec, where that hand began to squeeze his other pec like before.

You could nearly salivate staring at his rippled abdomen.

Brian's pecs might not be as big as Lex Luger's, and he might not have a body made by steroids like the Ultimate Warrior, but he still has a beautiful body.

Brian was feeling lucky tonight.

While he might be playing a crazy madman in the WWF that has kidnapped Marlena/Terri Runnels and turned her into his personal sex slave, he is getting pleasured by you right now.

Brian's not just wanting you to stroke and squeeze his pecs and torso, he's wanting to masturbate his cock.

Your other hand by his shoulder, however, is squeezing near his shoulder, and this hand that's squeezing close to his shoulder isn't the one squeezing his pec.

Maybe your hand attached to your arm draped across his shoulder blades can stroke up and down his chest this time.

Even though you enjoy squeezing his pecs, at the same time, your hand squeezing them doesn't make you able to look at his pectoral muscles.

Your hand squeezing one of his pecs began to stroke up and down it this time, helping that pec unwind from the pressure it had from being squeezed.

You didn't squeeze his pecs too hard, though.

Your hand stroked up and down one of his pecs like how it stroked the area in between his pecs before.

He's loving the feel of you caressing his pec, and his eyes are staring at your hand brushing his pectoral muscle.

Your hand can feel the bump of his pec as you slide it up and down, how his pecs stick out more than his torso.

The palm of your hand can feel his erect nipples while your hand caresses his pec.

He has such thick, coarse hair you'd love to run your fingers through maybe right now.

Eventually, your hand slid over to his other pec, where your hand stroked and caressed up and down his opposite pec the same way.

You wish you could have various arms and hands so your hands can stroke many different parts of his body, your fingers running through his hair while one of your hands roams all over his back and your other hand is caressing his chest.

[ot3-watch]

Episode 4: The Snow Job

Will I ever forgive the network for fucking up and ruining the episode order? No. No I will not.

NO, PEOPLE. DESPITE WHAT THE FUCKERY WOULD HAVE YOU BELIEVE, THE SNOW JOB IS NOT EPISODE 9

I never understood how people could just… take someone’s house away.

YES FUCK HIM UP

PUNCH HIS LIGHTS OUT HE ASSHOLE

Episode 2 of “I will never understand money”

WHY IS THERE ANOTHER SAM REFERENCE/?? AND WITH THE FUCKING FLASHBACK TOO I CAN’T

“I had fortune cookies for breakfast” PARKER WHY

“It’s not cereal, it’s a fortune cookie” and yet.. YOU STILL HAD THEM FOR BREAKFAST

HOw… Also… How did she happen to read a fortune that was going to be perfectly applicable? They don’t… they don’t actually work? Right? Fortune cookies are bogus right? Because I’m having chinese for dinner and i need to know what to expect

Ah yes, the start of Nate being too fucked up to function.

They never address his alcoholism well-- either they forget the con to focus on it or they ignore it because he does good work. I hate it

PEOPLE ARE THE WORST!! RETZING IS THE WORST

Why luge? Of all the snow related sports???

I love Eliot being a Lurker and Lurking. He’s so good at it.

These poor ACTUAL lugers. Having their accomplishments overwritten. Aww

Could you imagine if you’re looking at a news article about your recent win and all of a sudden it isn’t your face in the picture anymore? Seriously, that’s gotta hurt.

I remember just being so bored for most of this episode. Like,random parts were great but others…

ELIOT iS SUCH A GOOD GRIFTER

Parker is just… oh my god. “Help… help… -_-”

The random toblerone… were they sponsored? I feel like they were sponsored…

#obvious product placement

All the orange in that house is insane

Like, my mom is OBSESSED with orange but this is… eurgh.

“That’s what made this company what it is today” NO… CHEATING AND ASSHOLERY MADE IT WHAT IT IS FUCK YOU

“It’s coming from inside the house” ah. Horror movies. Fun

Sophie’s accent is sounding very first episode Nigerian… just saying

I think this was one of the episodes that made me… meh about Parker.

NO SERIOUSLY THE ACCENT THING

I CAN’T GET PAST IT

Ah, don’t you love it when US law is so fucked up that people can openly admit to taking advantage of people in trouble and the law is just like “nice carpe dieming there! Here, have a tax break”

Honestly fuck them

“It’s all legal” YEAH BUT IT AIN’T MORAL FUCK YOU

F U C K T H E M

Ah, Nate fucking them over because he’s a DRUNK ASSHOLE

I’m not saying that Nate wanting to help more people is a bad thing but like, could he not have done that without fucking everyone over?

One of my favorite running gags is the random con names that getprogressively more and more ridiculous. ANd then only hearing enough about it to bring up MORE Questions it’s *chef kiss* perfect.

I feel like Nate was just mad he didn’t have a role to play in the con so he had to change it so he could play a character.

Why does he look like fred from scooby doo

SO not only are we getting commentary on the real estate market, but we’re also getting commentary on the health insurance industry.

Ah yes, drink while driving. That’s smart.

Ah yes, Assault by a law enforcement official. That’s smart

“Organ failure, death, death like symptoms”

I LOVE HARDISON HE’S SO SMART

I love it when Eliot says smart things and everyone looks at him like *little kid voice “wait a second…. Who ARE you?”

Eliot in scrubs is very hot.

“Death scenes can be demanding… think of a really sad thing that happened in your life like, oh, i don’t know, when your father died.” HAHAHAHAHAHA

This was one of the episodes that made me not love Parker

Eliot beating Hardison at rock paper scissors is another one of my favorite running gags

“Wow, you can tell. Dead eyes. As if there’s no soul”

See, sophie? Parker’s PERFECT casting.

The OT3 already being perfect.

Eliot just picking Parker up is amazing.

Nate is just the worst I hate him

“I ain’t your daddy”

NO BUT YOU COULD BE MINE

Me? Being a slut for Eliot? Whaaaattt??

NATE IS JUST THE WORST I HATE HIM

THIS IS WHAT HE IS LIKE DRUNK CAN WE JUST STOP PRETENDING IT’S EVER OKAY

I hate when TV shows try to pass alcoholism off as a character flaw but then forget they need to back that up so they can’t let them rehabilitate fully ever because then you have a character that’s missing his fatal flaw.

Like no, fuck that. Five them a real character flaw

And not a flaw that’s not really a flaw that you’re supposed to like them even more because of. AN ACTUAL FUCKING FLAW pLEASE

You can tell it’s Parker that walks into the bank office. Even before the flashback.

Would that work? Signing away controlling interest in the company? Would that really fuck everything over? I feel like things are much more complicated than that.

This seems so complicated and one of those solutions that you need a financial degree in order to understand so I kind of really do not like it. DO I not like it because it makes me feel stupid? Maybe? But it also seems like it shouldn’t work?

It’s one of those “That sounds fake but I don’t know enough about this to disprove it” situations.

Final thoughts: 6/10. Points for Eliot being Eliot and the OT3 being v awesome. ALSO I JUST REALIZED I DIDN’T COMMENT ON PARKER JUMPING OUT OF THE WINDOW FOR ELIOT TO CATCH HER WHICH IS A TRAVESTY SO HERE I AM. COMMENTING. Points off for Nate being the WORST. Points off for a shitty handling of alcoholism. Points off for me not understanding the ending. Extra points for a v cute client family. Extra points for Hardison being v competent. Points off because this is my blog and I don’t have to answer to you and I just found this episode meh okay?

Sam count: 3/4 BLEH

IYS count: 2/4 GOOD

[sergeant-donny-donowitz]

Finding Hugo: Hugo x Male!Reader

*Requested by @jiejie-eonni-onee-sama @owba-chan @war-obsessed @inglourious-imagines @tammykelly @struggling-bee @frozenhuntress67 @kwyloz @sodapop182 @marlenemarauders @what-the--curtains @taikawho @spookybearlandtaco  Let me know if you wanna be added to the IB or OUATIH taglists! :)

____________ ***Winter-1943***

You had been on the run for a year or so, ever since they took Hugo from you. Actually....it wasn't so simple. Hugo had been arrested, of course, for what made him infamous all over the western front: Killing 13 Gestapo officers. But that was just it... He'd only killed half of them. You killed the other half. You were a team, partners in crime. He loved you, and you had no doubts about it. The only problem was that he'd protect you even if it cost him his life. And that's what happened. He took a bullet for you, really. Literally, and figuratively. He took the blame for all 13 kills, and made sure you got away safely  by taking a bullet that was meant for you. By the time you realized he wasn't behind you, it was too late. But  ever since you heard he broke out of prison, you'd been looking for him. You were on the run, crossing Europe, trying to find him. You still had Hugo's knife with you. You never stopped using it. You had to if you were going to survive long enough to find him. Now, you had crossed over to Nazi-occupied France, losing your way, losing your head, and losing any remaining hope of finding Hugo.

***Meanwhile The basterds were carefully trudging through France, trying to get their shit together, really. It had been so long since they'd had a safe place to stay, running hot water, food other than stale sandwiches, which worst of all, were made by Aldo, who was a major fan of mayonaise. Which half the baterds hated. "And on top of that, it's fucking snowing!" Omar shivered, crossing his arms, clutching onto his thin sweater tightly, and clenching his teeth. "It's a...dusting." Donny looked up at the snow, which was now falling even more heavily. "We're also out of ammo. And...we've probably been spotted by way too many patrols by now. And-" Smitty tended to get more nervous the more he explained things, so Aldo cut him off, "Alright. So we're in a tight place. We been in hell, son. We'll damn sure be alright." As the sky dimmed, and the snow kept falling, they went up a steep, isolated slope in the countryside. Well, it seemed isolated. Until they saw a figure bounding down the hill. Aldo stretched out his arm, signaling the boys the stand down, in case it was just a civilian "Steady..." But in case it wasn't, each of them gripped a knife hidden in a pocket. Donny held on to his bat, of course. Hugo...well... His eyes went wide, and he couldn't believe them. "Y/n..." You froze. You were paranoid. You thought you'd been caught. But before you reached for your luger, you realized you knew that voice. It had been a lifetime since you heard him say your name.... But there it was, like a dream all over again. "Hugo!" You ran to him, wrapping your arms so tightly around him to convince yourself it wasn't a dream, that  it was real this time. He buried his face in your shoulder, his hand pressed against the back of your head as he tried to convince himself that it really was you. He took a deep breath, perhaps the only time he'd been able to really breathe since he last saw you. "Y/n..." You were frozen in time, until...well, you remember you were in France. "Now, this is touchin' n' all, but we got some real trouble, Hugo. You 'n your friend can catch up on our way to...anywhere but here, sergeant." Aldo chuckled, but signaled everyone to follow his lead to 'anywhere but here.' "Fuck a duck," Donny muttered. "We lost, lieutenant?" "We ain't lost if we don't know where we're goin, son." Aldo sighed, tired, wondering if they'd make it to the end of the week without any ammo, or clue of what to do. Wicki looked around, recognizing they were near the edge of France, not too far from Switzerland. "Gstaad." Hirschberg snorted, and laughed "We ain't takin' a vaction now, Wicki!" Wicki rolled his eyes, quickly explaining as he pushed ahead, up the slope, now taking lead "No. I know a place." "You know a place in Gstaad?" "My sister and her husband are MI6 agents. They run a small place in Gstaad, and help agents. If we can make it into Switzerland, we can make it there." Aldo stopped, "Well, that's one hell of a gamble." Hugo, for a moment, left your side. "What choice do we have?" Donny nodded, as he took a bite his last share of sandwiches. "He's got a point." And so, you were off, back up the slope, through the countryside in the dead of night. As you walked up, Hugo's hand brushed against yours, and you glanced at him with a smile warm enough to help him forget the sharp winter night. "So tell us 'bout your friend," Aldo was a little ahead of you. "This is Y/n. He used to work with me." Wicki nudged Hugo, as he had a bit of an inkling about the way you and Hugo glanced at each other, "By work you mean..." "Those 13 Gestapo officers? Half of them were his work." Hugo chuckled, though his eyes lingered on yours, with a wistful, soft smile. Sleepless endless days of secrecy and a gamble of a train ride later, you were there. It was night again, maybe nine o clock.  It was a nice little town, with towering snowy slopes, and an endless sky sprinkled with bright stars. You glanced at Hugo, and he looked down at his feet, with a shy smile. Maybe it would be a nicer place to be if you weren't being hunted. You laughed softly to yourself. You all followed Wicki, who was going off of his memory of a picture he received in a letter just before being drafted. "Here." He stood outside of an inviting wooden lodge, orange lights filtering out of a few windows, and a slow stream of smoke flowing from the fireplaces. He opened the door, and the rest of you followed. There was a man at the desk in the lobby, looking through some records. A little girl, maybe thrree or four years old. Wicki only recognized them from photographs. The man didn't look up. "Juste une minute, monsieur." "Just a minute, sir." He put the pen down and looked up. "Wilhelm?" He'd never had the honor of meeting his brother in law, but now was a good time as any. He turned back, calling "Eva!" Eva walked in, surprised to see her brother. Normally, only people with reservations were let in. And...the only ones who could make reservations were agents and spies working for the allies. Still, there was room for an exception. Especially this one. Still, Wicki's surprise family reunion was not the most eventful part of the night. Once the basterds ate, had a drink or two, showered, and were split into rooms, Aldo got down to business, poking around, speaking to a few agents who could hook the basterds up with some well needed and deserved guns and ammo. Wicki, of course, spent as much time as he could with his family. So he stayed in the room. His sister and brother-in-law, being MI6 agents, had some information to help the basterds. Wicki and Aldo started working on a plan and path back to France. Donny joined them soon after. Being the sergeant meant he had to be informed. The rest of the basterds rested up in their rooms. Still, this was Gstaad. When else would these boys have the chance to be in a place like this? They were surrounded by agents from all the allies, making this both the safest, and most dangerous place to be. But you and Hugo...it had been so long... Exploring the town  with the younger basterds sounded fun, but there were things more important to you. To both of you. You sat on the edge of Hugo's bed. He had never been a man of many words. But he never let you forget how much he loved you. Tonight was no different. He kissed you, trying to make up for all the lost time all at once. You'd showered and eaten, and warmed up a little. But that didn't erase the worries and questions in Hugo's restless mind. It also didn't erase the fact that you were covered in blood (both yours, and not yours) when you found him. "Wo warst du?" "Where've you been?" "I've just been looking for you," You paused, and smirked a little, "Mostly." You handed his knife back over to him. He sighed, smiling softly, resting his hand againast your cheek. He shook his head. He wanted you to keep it. "You found me." "I did," You smiled, annd kissed him again. "HEY HIRSCHBERG LET'S GO!" The door suddenly swung open, and both Omar and Utivich stumbled in, laughing, expecting to find Hirschberg. Hugo's eyes shot open, "GET OUT." "W....SORRY!" Omar and Utivich quickly shuffled out of the room blushing, but...that wasn't enough. Hugo glared at them with the knife in hand.   "Hugo," You put your hand on his shoulder trying to calm him down,  and he sighed. The boys looked terrified. You slipped your hand into his, though you were also scared.  "They said they were sorry, now-"

Hirschberg walked down the hall, pulling on his jacket, "ALRIGHT GODDAMNIT, WH-....what's uh..." He peeked through the door, "OH NICE!" Hugo was fuming, "GO AWAY." Now, the rest of the basterds rushed in, having heard the commotion, they thought there was trouble. Donny peered over the basterd's heads, "WHAT'S GOIN' ON?!" He saw you and Hugo and shrugged, "Aw fuck a duck." He took a breath and lowered his bat. "You uh...you three needa learn how to knock." He'd unfortunately had a similar run in. Hirschberg and Smitty had walked in on him and a...lady of the night...back in Paris once. They really needed to learn how to knock. Wicki stood there, and chuckled "Already, huh?" Hugo had told him about you, once.... Well...he mentioned you. But the way he said your name was enough to tip Wicki off about what was going on between you. He muttered through clenched teeth and impatient glares, "Gehen. Weg." 'Go. Away.' Aldo cleared his throat, "Alright, alright, everyone get the hell out." The basterds did as they were told, and just as Aldo closed the door, he peeked in "Hugo?" "What?" Normally, he was a little more formal, especially around his lieutenant. But right now...he was a little eager to be alone with you. "Way to go, boy." Aldo smirked and shut the door, and Hugo scowled. Still, he sighed, sitting down by you. He knew the basterds meant well. That was your very first night as a basterd. It was quite a welcome, but you wouldn't have had it any other way. The boys would become like your brothers, and Hugo remained your everything. That first, slightly embarrassing, night was something you all looked back on fondly and had a laugh about later. But to you and Hugo, it was just one page in a story of your own. Now that you'd found him, you were sure it would never end.