#sorry. that got me. fuckin. ben barnes....

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

most nights kinda suck. but sometimes youre relaxing in a nice motel and one of the tv channels is playing 9-1-1 episodes <3 and everything feels like it'll be okay for a few hours <3

[mrsalwayswrite]

These Hands Were Made For You (Bill Guarnere x Reader)

Based on this post by @problematicfavesareproblematic​ because its amazing!

This is my first time writing Wild Bill. Lemme know what y’all think!

Warnings: swearing, sexual tension, palming (is that a warning?)

Words:2600

Tag List: @happyveday​ @sydney-m​ @saritanotserena​

  As soon as you stepped into the barn-converted-to-mess-hall in Albourne, you knew what was coming. 

 "There she is, fuckin' goddess of war herself! Come to see how the toughest, most handsome sonofabitch in the 506 is doin' this morning?" 

 You just chuckled and shook your head at his exaggerated smug look. "Yeah, Bill. Something like that."

 Guarnere winked at you and you could not figure out how it was possible for such a simple action to be so dirty. The way he tilted his head just slightly, the corner of his mouth lifted in a half smirk followed by a quick wink...you could feel heat pooling in your belly and your breath catch. 

 The cocky grin on his face grew as he saw the hint of pink on your cheeks. He knew what that wink did to you and he LOVED using it against you. 

 Bastard. 

 "Something you need, Y/L/N?" Martin asked from the table closest to the door.  

 "Yeah, any of you seen Lip?"

 Luz answered from the table, cigarette dangling from between his lips. "Think he went back to the house to grab something. Why?"

 You waved Luz off as you could see him start to stand, stepping further into the barn. "Just need to ask him something. Winters is in a meeting otherwise I'd ask him."

 "Why don't you take a seat, he should be back soon."

 "Perfect spot saved right here for the Valkyrie of Easy!" Bill announced, patting the open spot on the bench next to him. 

 You rolled your eyes but relented, moving past the other table to drop next to Guarnere. On his other side sat Heffron, still looking a bit wide-eyed and nervous that he somehow won the coveted spot with the Toccoa men. Toye sat across, giving you a brief nod when you sat down. Perconte, Christianson, Skinny, and Grant also took up residence around the table. Perco seemed to have been in the middle of telling some overly, exaggerated story. 

 Most of Easy relaxed in the barn. The Toccoa men were grateful for the break from the front-line and hot food instead of K rations. All the replacements were eager for the next jump, ready to soil their ODs, not truly understanding that war would only take from them, never give. The division between Toccoa men and replacements was painfully obvious. 

 Heffron leaned around Guarnere to meet your eyes. "Hey, sorry again about the fellas yesterday. They've been like that since training."

 "Not your fault, Babe." You shrugged, running a hand through your hair. 

 "What's he talkin' about?" Guarnere narrowed his eyes at you. Even Toye across the table was staring at you in concern. 

 "Nothing, Bill. It's fine."

 "If you're sayin' its fine then it ain't fuckin' fine." He growled. When he realized you were not going to elaborate, he turned on Babe. "What the fuck happened?"

 The redheaded replacement looked like he would rather be anywhere else in the world in that moment than being interrogated by Wild Bill. "Some of the men were...ah, tryin' to...um… proposition her." He finished with a wince. 

 A long beat of silence.

 Then Guarnere exploded. 

 He pounded the table with a tight fist, the table shaking at the impact.  A snarl on his lips, he started to rise from his seat, eyeing the tables further away full of replacements. "Who the fuck was it? Someone from our platoon? Imma fuckin' kill 'em. Who was it?"

 "No," you cut in, grabbing his arm and restraining him, hoping to stop him before he worked himself up into a frenzy, "some replacements from third."

 He growled but let you pull him back down. "Goddamn replacements. They touch you?"

 "No, Bill. I handled it."

 Toye spoke up, eyeing his friend carefully as if to see if he was going to have to prevent a replacement's murder or help hide the body. "What you do?"

 You smirked, squeezing Guarnere's arm for good measure then pulled your hand back into your lap. "Told them if they tried to pull that shit again, I'd rip their cocks off and mail them to their mothers."

 All the men at the table either winced or shifted uncomfortably at the mental image. 

 "Hey, don't you be touchin' no one's cocks." Bill said, fury still on his face but also amusement. 

 You raised an eyebrow, "what would you rather I have done? Swung at them? Give Sink a reason to send me packing?"

 "Nah, you swing at 'em, they might fall in love." He winked at you again, telling you he knew exactly what he was talking about. Underneath the table, hidden from view, his knuckles skimmed the outside of your thigh. You attempted to hide the shiver that caused but knew you failed when Guarnere chuckled quietly.

 "Why would that matter?" Babe asked innocently. 

 "Oh, here we go." Toye sighed. 

 "Shut up Joe, the kid asked alright." Guarnere started his story, pleased to have a new, rapt audience. "So here we are, back in Toccoa, right? Most of us have already arrived and started trainin' with goddamn Sobel. Then one day this beautiful broad shows up and we're told she's joinin' the paratroopers. None of us believe it. Why would a broad be joinin'? Don't make no fuckin' sense. So the next day we're supposed to be startin' to learn self-defense and guess who I get paired up with? Huh? Lovely Y/L/N over here. Right, so I'm fuckin' pissed cause I don't wanna be fightin' no broad but Sobel is watchin' like a hawk. I tell her I'll pretend to swing at her and she should just fall down. Play fightin', ya know? Like when youse a kid. I take a swing at her, thinkin' she knew the plan. She easily dodges my swing and before I can right myself, she lands a punch on me. Knocked me flat on my ass and seein' stars. I look up to see this goddess standin' over me, bloody knuckles and all, and she says 'you better get up and fight me like a man before I knock you on your ass again'."

 "So, what you do?" Heffron asked, surprise clearly written all over his face. 

 Guarnere tapped the table with his finger. "What did I do? Well, I got up and told her that when this war is over, I'm gonna fuckin' marry her, that's what I was gonna do."

 Those who had heard the story before chuckled while Heffron sat there, head tilted and eyes bouncing between you and Guarnere like he was waiting for the punchline still. 

 "Why? No offense, Y/L/N." 

 Guarnere threw his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side. "Cause she hits harder than any fella I've ever known, includin' me brother Henry. Boxin' champion that one was. Now if that ain't a reason to marry someone, I don't know what is."

 "And she puts up with your bullshit." Toye deadpanned. 

 You rolled your eyes, sliding out from underneath Guarnere's arm. "That's just words unless there's a ring and I don't plan on marrying for a while yet. Still gotta win a war first." You stood up, smoothing down your ODs. "'Sides, maybe by then I'll find someone who doesn't annoy me so much."

 "Nah, you'd miss my handsome face too much."

 "You keep telling yourself that, Bill."

 "One day you'll come around." He winked, making your insides warm. You would never understand how that was possible. The Philadelphian pointed a finger at you. "You lemme know if any of those replacements bother you again. Can't have those bastards propositionin' my future wife."

 "See you later, boys." You said, not even bothering to answer him. You headed towards the door, intent on finding Lipton; but also to get away from the man who gave you such feels without even saying a word. Then when he did speak, complimenting and claiming you in front of the others…. it was becoming harder and harder to keep your hands and your lips to yourself. 

 ***** 

 You leaned against the doorframe, admiring the man who was too caught up in writing a letter home to have noticed you yet. He twirled the pencil between his fingers as he thought about his words. The chair creaked under him as he shifted, leaning forward against the wooden desk to continue writing. The small bedroom only consisted of the desk, chair and bed. Guarnere's duffle bag was thrown in a corner with things haphazardly pulled out. The NCOs had been billeted in a house together, everyone able to have their own rooms unlike the enlisted men who were forced to share a converted barn.

 When you had first met him, and your first real encounter resulted in you punching him, you had thought he was the most unhelpful, condescending, little shit; and you had no problems telling him that for weeks after. When he had bounced back to his feet and proposed...you had laughed so uncontrollably, it had taken a sharp bark from Lipton to get you to focus again. 

 Over the following weeks, the bastard would openly flirt with you and practically pummel anyone else who tried to. Sometime around Fort Benning, your own feelings toward him started to change. No longer was he a man you loathed. You found yourself happy he was in your platoon, that he hovered around you keeping assholes from other companies away, that you enjoyed his flirting and when you two were alone... you reciprocated. 

 Actually, the first time you flirted back, he almost choked on his tongue he was so surprised. After that, things shifted between you two. 

 He continued openly flirting but understood you could not since you were under far more scrutiny and Sobel was looking for ANY reason to get rid of you. 

 For two years Guarnere had been in your life...and you hoped for the rest of it too. 

 "Enjoyin' the view, sweetheart?"

 You smiled at him as he leaned back in the chair, legs still under the desk. "Should I be?"

 He scoffed. "You know you like what you see...I'll tell you though," his eyes raked over you, "you're a fuckin' goddess with a body to drive a man crazy."

 You laughed, covering your mouth with your hand to minimize the sound, as he winked at you before turning back to his letter. 

 "The other NCOs said you were going out tonight for drinks."

 "Yeah, yeah. Told 'em if I didn't finish this letter for my ma, she'd jump on a boat and come find me. Got three letters from her already. Last one she threatened to come find me. So, I told the fellas I'd meet them there."

 The muffled sounds of the other NCOs drifted up the stairs; they were gathered in the common room getting ready to head out. With that in mind, you moved silently across the room to where he sat at the chair. Coming up behind him, you dragged your hands over his broad shoulders then down his firm chest, stilled his motions. 

 "Y/N…"

 You loved touching him, could not get enough of it when you were able to. What you also loved doing was paying him back for teasing you. 

 One of your hands continued to travel downward until you palmed his cock. He froze, pencil hovering just about his letter. Without a word, you slowly, torturously, stroked him over his trousers. 

 "Fuck, sweetheart." He groaned, tipping his head back slightly. 

 "You said earlier I wasn't supposed to be touching anyone's cocks...does that include yours?"

 Turning his head, he looked at you out of the corner of his eye but before he could speak, you took the tip of his earlobe between your teeth. 

 "Hands on the desk, Sergeant." You growled in his ear. 

 Immediately, his hands slammed on the wooden desk, palms down. The pencil fell to the floor. Letter now forgotten on the desk. 

 "Mmm, yes, sir… you keep them there." You continued slowly stroking his cock over his trousers. "You have no idea how bad I wanted to kiss you earlier when we were at the mess hall." You licked up the curve of his ear, feeling him shudder under your touch. Your hand gave him a gentle squeeze as you continued whispering in his ear. "Think I should punish you for teasing me earlier? That wink you gave me...all the dirty images it put in my head. Want me to tell you about them?"

 "Fuck, sweetheart, yes."

 "I thought about you bending me over one of those tables. Notice how they are at the perfect height? How good you would feel inside me. How deep you would be."

 One of his hands started to move off the table, drifting towards where your hand played with him. 

 You nipped his earlobe sharply, making him hiss. "Hands up, Sergeant, or no reward later."

 "You're gonna kill me, darlin'." His hand slammed back on the desk. 

 You licked a line up his neck before pressing your lips against his ear again. The pace of your hand increased, his chest rising and falling to match. "Remember that time in Mackall where we snuck into the parachute packing building and fucked on the silks. You couldn't wait to get inside of me and almost tore my new ODs. So I made you wait and watch as I started touching myself. After someone came in and we almost got caught."

 His hips were now rutting against your hand, the chair shaking with his movements.  His hands were in white-knuckled fists on the desks, trembling with his desire to get them on you. 

 Unable to help yourself, you grabbed his face with your free hand, turning it to press a bruising, messy kiss to his lips. He greedily took ownership of your mouth and deepened the kiss. He plundered your mouth with his tongue, reminding you how his mouth and skillful tongue alone could drive you wild. 

 Finally you broke away, pressing your forehead against his temple as you attempted to refill your lungs with the oxygen he had stolen. "God, I wish I could kiss you out there. Let everyone know I am yours. Maybe share quarters with you instead of sneaking around like teenagers. Fuck whenever we want."

 "I'd be the luckiest, fuckin' bastard in all of Easy. You're mine. My goddess."

 "There is one thing I need right now. I need the toughest, most handsome sonofabitch above me. I need my man inside me." You squeezed your hand, making him tip his head back and loudly groan. "Now the other NCOs are just downstairs. Think you can keep quiet?"

 He pressed a hard and fast kiss to your lips. "Oh darlin', it ain't me whose gonna have to keep from screamin'."

 "Mmm, think you can help me out?"

 "I'd do anythin' for ya…." He turned in his seat, hands now stroking your waist with a completely wicked and sinful smirk on his face. "Go lock the door."

 You stepped back, admiring the disheveled look on Guarnere, how his eyes blazed with passion and desire. For you. Without tearing your gaze from his, you shut the door and locked it behind you. 

 "Jesus Christ, you're a dream."

 "Only for you. Come on, Sergeant, show me how good you are with your...arsenal."

 Before you could move, he leapt out of his chair, making it clatter on the floor as it tipped over in his enthusiasm. He picked you up easily and tossed you on the bed. You laughed only to be immediately silenced by his mouth slamming against yours, a moan drawn from you as his talented fingers rid you of your clothing with an almost inhuman speed. 

 *****

 Later that night Guarnere was quite late for getting to the pub but he did not mind one bit. Especially since his bed now smelled like you…. And he had been able to remind you how much he loved you. 

 Quite vigorously. 

[the-blind-assassin-12]

Feel More Alive

Word Count: 1,503  Warnings: language & (gag) mention of William A/N: The second that I saw this piece of artwork, I heard I Can’t Stand It by VHS Collection in my head, so the title comes from that song. 

(ARTIST APPRECIATION SUBMISSION)  

Happy Friday everyone! I know it’s been a little while since I posted one of these, and since there has been so much amazing art lately, I thought I would get back to it. This one made me gasp aloud when I first saw it, even though I KNEW it would be incredible from the second I sent the request in. @pheedraws​ literally never disappoints and always delivers absolutely stunning portraits and drawings, and this one was no exception. 

Phoebe! How do you do it? How do you manage to get so much emotion and expression in your art? How do you fit so much detail and light and life into these pieces? You are an art enchantress... an ARTchantress, and I never cease to be amazed at the magic you create. 

So from me to you, THANK YOU so much for sharing your talent with all of us. You are fabulous, you are appreciated, you are a frickin gem. 

He should not be allowed to look that good in purple aubergine and yet... 

The wide expanse of the city spread out before him as he took his seat across from the solid plate glass wall. The hotel bar that he was in offered one of the most stunning views available of Singapore at night, and while he’d been to the city countless times before on business due to the island-nation’s favorable international tax rates, he couldn’t remember the last time he had visited purely for pleasure. When was the last trip I took where I wasn’t working? He couldn’t remember that either, only able to recall the various times he’d been in the room where he sat now. Outside, the lotus shaped structure of the ArtScience museum went from orange to violet as the lights changed, the reflections bouncing off the water below and coming through the window to tint Logan’s cheeks. Maybe one’a these days I’ll get down there, check it out. I bet- 

A server came by then to deliver two tall, slender champagne flutes, and Logan let his thoughts trail off as the woman smiled. “Is there anything else I can do for you right now, Mr. Delos?” She tucked her small round tray beneath her arm, the fingers of her free hand skimming the bottom hem of her dress where it sat almost plastered to her thighs before trailing those same fingertips over the table top. Subtle. 

It wasn’t her fault. He knew that the staff here had been instructed to cater to whatever requests their high profile visitors might have. In the past he would have taken her up on her offer, but this trip, while still business related, was different for a few reasons. Logan returned her smile, undoing the button on his jacket and leaning back in his seat. “No, thank you, I’m all set for now.”   

She let her tongue slip out from between her lips before giving him another slowly spreading smile and bringing her hand up to innocently toy with one of her dangling earrings. “Well, if anything changes, I’d be happy to-” 

I’m sure you would. “I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks.” He lifted his glass to her, cocking one eyebrow as he did, then brought it to his mouth and took a large gulp. The woman nodded and turned to head back to the bar, but Logan caught her throw one last glance over her shoulder at him as she did. 

I should talk to the manager, tell ‘em that they can stop tellin’ the staff to do that with me. He let his eyes scan the room then, flitting over the faces of the people at the other booths in search of one face in particular. He laughed to himself as he brought his glass back down to the table. They’d probably look at me like I had six fuckin’ heads.  

It had been a few years since he’d chosen this location as a meeting place for a business contact, mainly because of the way things had unfolded after his last meeting there. Last time I sat in this booth I… He looked down and to his right at the empty cushion beside him. On Logan’s last visit, that space had been occupied by an attractive young man with captivating eyes with whom he’d planned to leave the hotel bar, had the Argos Initiative representatives he was meeting-if I can really call them that now that I know- not shown. He ran his palm over the dark leather upholstery. Can’t remember his name. Maybe I never even… It wouldn’t have been the first time Logan had gone to bed with someone without knowing what to call them. But I didn’t, not that night, not with him anyway. He closed his eyes and drew his hand back to the table, pointer and middle finger running up and down the stem of his glass before turning his head to the left, an involuntary frown forming as his eyes landed in the spot where William had sat on that last trip. 

He closed his eyes and turned his attention back to the floor to ceiling windows before opening them again, the golden lights of the lounge’s chandeliers joining the countless others in his field of vision. He’s gone now, no use in… Though Logan had already run though every single second of his trip to the park with his former brother in law, chastizing himself for not taking control of the situation sooner- If I’d have just fuckin’ shot her, if I’d have dragged his ass home- he hadn’t gone back further than that in his “what ifs”. But now, sitting here where it all began, he couldn’t help but wonder what would have happened had William not called it a night so early, had he been in the room with Logan when just a twitch of Angela’s finger had frozen the entire assembly of Hosts. He’d had to have seen it then. They’re not real, they’re...they’re not alive, they… With a sigh he trained his eyes on his glass as a string of tiny bubbles rose to the surface. If he’d have seen what I saw, felt what I felt, there’s no way he would have… I’d at least have seen it sooner, seen it before I brought him to the park and… 

Fuck. He hadn’t wanted to think about that time, or the initial meeting with Argos. This trip was different not only because of what Logan had gone through since the last time he’d set foot in Singapore, but because of who he had with him this time- you. He’d been hesitant to bring you with him on this trip, not because he wasn’t sure of how he felt about you or because he wanted to take the lounge’s servers up on their offers to take care of whatever he needed, but because he wasn’t sure what being back in that place would be like for him, what feelings it might bring up. While this was a business trip, and you were a contracted Delos employee, that’s not all that this trip was, and he didn’t want it to be shrouded in the pain of his past. You knew everything that had happened, so it wasn’t that he wanted to keep anything from you. I just don’t want her to have to deal with this now. She shouldn’t. She deserves...she makes me... 

His thoughts dropped off again as the face he’d been looking for finally emerged from the hall that led to the restrooms, and he felt his chest expand as he took a breath in through his nose, his mouth dropping open to let it back out. Damn. Teeth snapping back together as you moved toward him through the crowded room, Logan watched the amethyst and orange reflections from the city lights paint swatches of color across your white dress. The rush he got just from looking at you made him feel more alive than any Host could, no matter how lifelike they were, and your smile as you noticed him noticing you was enough to banish all thoughts of his last visit to the lounge.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to take so long there was,” you rolled your eyes. “Some poor girl was crying in the bathroom mirror so I,” you twirled your hand as you sunk into the seat next to him, your knee brushing his. “I talked to her for a minute and-” 

But Logan didn’t hear the rest of your sentence, instead swallowing it with a kiss as one arm wound behind your back to pull you even closer to him. “Don’t be sorry,” he spoke against your lips before pulling back to look into your eyes. “Just don’t go anywhere else.” 

Your cheeks lifted into another smile as you brought one hand up to rake your fingers through his thick hair. Damn that’s… “That can be arranged, Logan.” You leaned in then, biting down gently on his earlobe and making him suck in a breath. “Unless,” you whispered, pressing your lips to his skin and raising goosebumps, “unless you wanna come with me.” 

Oh she has no idea what she just… “Now there’s an idea.” He picked up his glass, emptying it down his throat as you winked and did the same, then grabbed for your hand. “C’mon.” He pulled you to your feet and then with another tug, dragged you into his side. “Lemme show you the rooftop. ‘F I’m gonna buy this place, I should at least give you a private tour.” 

You hummed, a spark igniting in your eye as you rose on your toes to kiss him sweet and slow, drawing it out and making his heart race like no one else ever could. As the two of you made your way out of the lounge and into the elevator, Logan realized that his past wouldn’t haunt him anymore; that there was no longer any reason for him to hold on to the ghosts when there was so much life right in front of him. 

.

.

.

Thank you a million times to all you fabulous artists! If you are an artist in the Ben Barnes fandom, or if you want to surprise an artist with a quick drabble, send me a message or link me to the piece of artwork that you would like me to write about. Let’s show these talented folks how much we appreciate them and the things that they create!

And if you would like to be added to or removed from my tag list, please feel free to drop a line! 

General Tags:  @something-tofightfor​​ @its-my-little-dumpster-fire​​ @suchatinyinfinity​​ @malionnes​ @thesumofmychoices​​ @gollyderek​​ @pheedraws​​ @beautifuldesastre​​ @alraedesigns​ @dearmarii​​ @fific7 @traeumerinwitzhelden​​ @obscurilicious​​ @luminex3​ @bisexual-space-slut​ @vetseras​ Logan Tags:  @valkblue​ @belladonnarey​ @ymariejp​ @drinix​ @jigsawlover10​ @getlostinyourparadise​ @nananananananananananabatman​ @qhostboyyy​ @ofgeneticperfection​ @delosdoll​

[goatsandgangsters]

it is Finally Goddamn Friday which means it is finally time for “Things I Am Screaming About In Episode 5 of Shadow and Bone”

this post was going to be “Things I Am Screaming About In Episodes 5 and 6 Shadow and Bone” but then I screamed about too many things and this post would have been too long so I’m making two posts 

side note: it’s only been a week?? this show only dropped a week ago??? god it feels like ages. I have been clawing my face off waiting for Friday so I could watch more. ANYWAY IT’S TIME NOW, I’VE EARNED IT.

how is EVERY single person on this show uTTERLY ADORABLE like JESUS. Genya and Alina’s EVERYTHING. D a v i d. Alina’s little “you like david, don’t you squidward” face :3 TWO HATS. alina and everyone else is SO! GODDAMN! CUTE!

FEDYOR! ALSO EXTREMELY CUTE! DOING HIS IVAN IMPRESSION! ALSO ARE THEY BOYFRIENDS????????????? There has absolutely never before been a point in my life where I said to myself “you know what? Fedyor and Ivan should be boyfriends” but now that this has been presented to me, Fedyor and Ivan Should Be Boyfriends. holy shit. the pairing I never knew I needed but how did I live without. 

I

do not have

the vocabulary

for the next thing I want to scream about

I AM!!!! TOO SOFT!!!!!!!!! I AM TOO SOFT AND TOO TRAPPED IN DARKLINA HELL TO HANDLE WHAT THEY’RE GIVING ME JESUS CHRIST I HAD TO LIKE. PAUSE. AND TAKE A BREAK. AN EMOTIONAL BREATHER. I’m done, it’s fine, we can all go home, good episode, good season, good trilogy, it ends here right and nothing else happens ever

the fucking…….. I don’t think I have ever iNAHLED SO LOUD in my LIFE as I did at her put. putting on. helping him put. I’m sorry. helping him put on his kefta. literally what kind of rEGENCY BULLSHIT are these two ON oh I am so

low-key going into this, I was like “you know. I hope they let him smile At Least Once in this show. it’s a big ask, I’m not sure it’ll happen, but I hope.” good god I am fucking YELLING. just, like, hold on bro I need a minute. I NEED A MINUTE.

OH I REWOUND IT TO WATCH AGAIN AND HE HAS A FUCKING HORSE STATUE IN HIS BEDROOM. THERE’S A HILL THAT I’M DYING ON AND IT’S THAT THE DARKLING IS A WEIRD HORSE GIRL AND I AM VALIDATED TONIIIIIGHT. fuckin nerd. 

I’M NOT AGAINST THE OCCASIONAL LIGHT ROLEPLAY !!!!!!! every man I have ever loved is a chaotic bisexual and an absolute bastard

Inej’s face during the Sankta Alina scene was So Much

AH. WELL. POOR MARIE. I GUESS IT… UH, COULD HAVE ENDED WORSE, ALL THINGS CONSIDERED. BUT POOR MARIE, ALL THE SAME. COUNT ME SURPRISED AT THAT. also genya kicking ass HELL YEAH

oh the ANGST OF THAT LAST KISS, BECAUSE Y O U  K N O W  W H A T ‘ S  C O M I N G. like REAL GOOD KISS, because I was like “oh noooo and that’s the end of th—oH ONE MORE! OH ONE MORE. oh goddddd one more :((((“ fUCK!!! OH I’M SOFT!!!! AN END THAT NEITHER OF THEM KNOW YET IS AN END fuck I’m gonna d i e, I told y’all I was too soft for this

god zoe wanamaker is SO terrific. in the book that scene felt like an... exposition dump? but OOF she’s bREAKING my hEART and really bringing out the emotion of it. not just alina’s, but baghra’s as well, instead of it just being like i’M HERE TO MOVE THE PLOT ALONG and then fuck off into the night. (tho admittedly I feel like baghra’s life motto is actually “move the plot along and then fuck off into the night”) 

y’know, you’d think ben barnes would have learned his lesson by now about leaving paintings lying around that prove you’re immortal, eternally youthful, and also evil. now he’s got two nickels which isn’t a lot but it’s weird that it happened twice.

OHHHHH INEJ KILLED A MAN FOR HIMMMMMMMM

jdfhgskjdfhgsjkdfhgk JESPER JUST WATCHING ALINA FUCKIN CLIMB IN THE KSDFHGKSDJHFG fantastic

OKAY THAT EPISODE WAS AMAZING. like I enjoyed the first four a lot because I was already invested from the jump and In Too Deep but I felt like the pacing of the earlier eps was a little wonky, whereas this episode I’m like. They Found It. Their Rhythm. They Found It. God that was A REALLY FUCKING GOOD EPISODE. I’m gonna go run around the bLOCK it is 10 PM and I am in a batHROBE BUT LIKE WHO WANTS TO SPRINT INTO THE NIGHT BECAUSE I SURE DO!!!!!!!

The episode was so good that my quesadilla got cold before I finished eating it because I was That engrossed  

[yikeswtfmate]

(1) New Message from Unknown Number

main masterlist // (1) New Message Masterlist // next part

Summary: Y/N is drunk and can’t remember her ex’s number.

A/N: Hello, it is I, the idiot who writes Social Media AUs when she’s drunk but is too lazy to put them in the proper format and just leaves them to die somewhere on her laptop

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader (Social Media AU - that’s a lie, it’s actually just texts in Word format 🤡)

Warnings: swearing, dumbassery

Unknown Number: Hey asshat so listen

Unknown Number: I kno we hvnt spoken since like

Unknown Number: High school but whateve idc

Unknown Number: U’re an asshle so I dnt even care that its like…

Unknown Number: 3 in the morning nvrmd

Unknown Number: Ive ben dared to txt my hottest ex by these evil witchS so

Unknown Number: Here u go

Unknown Number: At least u had decent abs so congrats on tht jfc

Unknown Number:  also u dnt get to complain abt this txt bc like

Unknown Number: u dated me for 6 months on a dare so U KNOW WHat this shuold feel like ya

Unknown Number: Wow dude that sounds like a dick move

Unknown Number: Seriously who the hell dates someone for 6 months on a dare?

Unknown Number: Doesn’t that only happen in movies though?

Unknown Number: hey bitchass dont act like u don’t kno what im talkinG abt

Unknown Number: Oh shit yeah, sorry. I don’t know who this asshole of an ex is but I sure as hell am not him

Unknown Number: Dude sounds like a complete waste of human space

Unknown Number: And I think I wouldn’t get to live it down if my friends would hear I did something that shitty

Unknown Number: Wait lemme ask Sam

Unknown Number: Nah, he says Steve would’ve beaten my ass if I were to do that so there u go

Unknown Number: m sorry who tf are u

Unknown Number: Bucky

Unknown Number: what kind of stupid name is bucky

Unknown Number: Shit man, u’re the one blowing up my phone at 3 in the morning, sending me weird ass messages when I don’t even know u and u dare say my name is stupid???

Unknown Number: Sheit srry

Unknown Number: Is been A long night

Unknown Number: nd week

Unknown Number: Actlly make thAt the whle entire fuckin month

Girl with asshole ex: Srry fr bothering u

Unknown Number: It‘s cool

Girl with asshole ex: Hey the witches ask if ure hot

Bonky: Yeah

Girl with asshole ex: WHAT THE FCK MAN AT LEST BE A LIL BIT HUMBLE SMH

Bonky: U wanted me to lie?

Girl with asshole ex: Fair point

Girl with asshole ex: They wnt a pic

Girl with asshole ex: Pic or it didn’t happen punk

Girl with asshole ex: Tht was nat

Bonky: What kind of party are u at that you can constantly text me?

Girl with asshole ex: Wanda’s place

Girl with asshole ex: Girls night

Girl with asshole ex: Getting hammered on wine BITCH

Girl with asshole ex: Also dnt change the subject

Bonky: I don’t even know your name

Girl with asshole ex: Why would I tell u my name I just want to see a suppsdly hot asssd

Bonky: You know mine and now you want me to send u a pic of me

Bonky: Bit of a disadvantage here babe

Girl with asshole ex: Babe?

Girl with asshole ex: BABE?

Girl with asshole ex: Fine

Girl with asshole ex: BABE if I tell u my name will u send a pic of u so we kno u arnt a 60yr old perv

Bonky: I’ll think about it

Girl with asshole ex: Hey fuck u

Girl with asshole ex: Not fair

Bonky: How do I know you’re not the 60yr old perv?

Girl with asshole ex: Cuz she got big tiddies to prove

Girl with asshole ex: And that was wanda

Girl with asshole ex: So now u know my fridsn

Bonky: Still don’t know your name tho babe

Bonky: Also tell Wanda she shouldn’t give out this type of info to strangers

Girl with asshole ex: ure not a stranger anymore bonky

Girl with asshole ex: ure my babe nao

Bonky: I’m going to let that Bonky slide just bc u’re cute

Bonky: But I’m also going to stop replying until you tell me your name

Girl with asshole ex: U think im cute?

Girl with asshole ex: 

Girl with asshole ex: I mean u havnt even seen me but thats fair

Girl with asshole ex: Wand and nat say its true so ill believe u rnt lying to me rn

Girl with asshole ex: But I wanna see if ure cute

Girl with asshole ex: Wait why r u up st 3 in the mrng I mean we re drunk but wht r u doing

Girl with asshole ex: Babe u need to take better care of urself

Girl with asshole ex: Babe

Girl with asshole ex: Babe?

Girl with asshole ex: BABE?

Girl with asshole ex: Ph shit ure actually ignoring me

Girl with asshole ex: I dont like this

Girl with asshole ex: I actually like talking to u

Girl with asshole ex: Pls stop ignoring me

Girl with asshole ex: COME BACK AND LOBE ME

Girl with asshole ex: Babe?

Girl with asshole ex: Fine

Girl with asshole ex: It’s Y/N

Bonky: Now, that wasn’t so hard was it? 

Babe: fcuk u

Bonky: I’m up at 3 bc we ordered pizza and decided it’s time to beat Sam’s ass in Mario Kart once and for all

Babe: Nd how’s that going for ya?

Bonky: Bitch has been beating us for the past 3 hours

Bonky: Thor is the only one getting at least close to him now so we’re about to give up

Babe: Wait shit how r u replying so fast if ure playing Mario kart tho

Bonky: I gave up two hours ago

Babe: Quitter

Bonky: Just gotta know which fights to pick babe

Babe: Heads up I might be fallin asleep soon

Bonky: Drink some water before that, maybe get some food in u as well to soak up all the alcohol and have an advil close for tomorrow

Babe: Ok MOM

Bonky: Hey Wanda willingly told me you have “big tiddies” so your friends don’t seem to be doing a good job of taking care of you

Bonky: Might as well let me do it so you don’t die tmrw

Babe: Ohhhh so u careeeee babe im touched

Babe: Kkkkkk Ill talk tu u tmrw ill be dead soon

Babe: Nd I do have big tiddies

Bonky: Good night babe

*

Babe: What the shit

Bonky: I see you survived

Babe: Barely

Babe: My head might explode soon and I feel like I’ve vomited for an entire lifetime

Babe: TMI sorry

Bonky: I’d like to point out I’m glad I don’t have to decipher your texts anymore and that you can actually spell properly

Babe: Fuck you Buckaroo

Bonky: I would also like to remind you that I have on good authority that you have “big tiddies” so don’t make me use that against you

Babe: I am going to kill Wanda

Babe:Ugh I need coffee

Babe: I’ll talk to you later

Bonky: I’ll be waiting for you babe

*

Babe: So

Babe: BABE

Bonky: Yes baby?

Babe: 

Bonky: Nah, you love it

Babe: Fine

Babe: You still haven’t sent a pic of you though. I might be able to rise Nat and Wanda from the dead if you do

Bonky: What do I get in return?

Babe: The promise that I will keep replying even though you might turn out to be an ugly orc?

Bonky: Not enough

Babe: Fine. I’ll keep talking to you until you want me to stop. Or until I get bored of you

Bonky: Eh, you can do better

Babe: What do you WANT?

Bonky: A pic of you in return

Babe: I’m not sending you nudes, perv

Bonky: If I wanted to see you naked and be a dick about it, I could’ve asked last night, don’t worry

Bonky: But if you’ll know how I look it’s only fair I should know how you look

Babe: That sounds reasonable

Bonky: I’d say it’s a fair exchange

Babe: Fine, you first then

Bonky: If you don’t send me a pic of you afterwards babe I will stop replying, just so you know

Bonky:

Babe: Did you type super hot guy with the most beautiful eyes in the world in Google or something?

Bonky: I’m touched but no. Sam took that photo at a work event

Babe: Bitch do you really expect me to believe this is you? That looks like a guy who just stepped out of a magazine, I highly doubt I would have the luck to text him instead of my ex when drunk

Bonky:

Bonky: Are you always this annoying?

Babe: …

Bonky: What? Do you want me to take a selfie with the fucking newspaper now? I read the news online babe, I’m not getting off of this couch just so I can buy a stupid newspaper to prove it’s me

Babe: Do you have one in a suit?

Bonky: …why am I putting up with this?

Bonky: Hold on

Bonky:

Bonky: It’s been 5 minutes, are you going to reply?

Bonky: You still have to send me a picture of you though, a deal is a deal you know

Bonky: Fine, I warned you

Babe: Shit sorry

Babe: Hi Bucky, this is Natasha

Bonky: Hi Natasha. Is Y/N alright?

Babe: Uhm how should I put this?

Babe: Y/N is crying right now and she can’t reply herself

Bonky: What? What happened? Is she okay?

Babe: Oh yeah

Babe: She’s just crying because (and I’m quoting here) you’re “so beautiful, it’s like all my wet dreams and fantasies have come together. I swear this is some cosmic joke, this is not happening”

Babe: I’m not sure if she’s laughing or crying now

Babe: But she keeps yelling at me that I have to send you the most perfect picture of herself that has ever existed or you will stop talking to her

Babe: I think she started crying again because “I will never live up to that level of perfection, he told me that I have to know which fights to pick”

Babe: Uh yeah so here

Babe: 1 Photo Attached

Bonky: Hey Nat, could you tell Y/N that I would like to talk to her now?

Babe: Sure

Babe: Hey

Bonky: Baby?

Babe: Yeah?

Bonky: You picked the wrong fight if you think “you will never live up to this level of perfection”

Babe: Oh God

Bonky: Stop being an idiot

Bonky: And listen to me

Bonky: I would really like to keep talking to you. Mainly because you’re an idiot who makes me laugh, but it’s also the fact that you are the most gorgeous woman I have ever seen in my entire life

Babe:

[toziers]

how about a reddie barn party?

“a barn party?”

“yeah.”

“well what is it?”

mike looks at stan. stan looks at bill. bill, wide-eyed, looks back and forth between the two of them. 

“it’s… a party. in a barn.” stan speaks slowly, though the corner of his mouth twitches like he’s trying desperately not to smile. 

“well i nuh-know that,” bill says in exasperation, and mike lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and laughs, relieved. he knows bill is smart, he knows—the good grades and power essays will prove it—but sometimes bill’s brain cells took vacations. sometimes bill would write the coolest shit in creative writing class: the kinda shit that mike and bev and richie (so, by proxy, eddie as well) liked to read. horror stories, like the slasher films the losers stayed up to watch (ben and stan preferred anything but horror), though bill has a habit of adding corny romantic subplots that appealed more to ben than anyone else. bill would write those, would blow the whole loser’s club away with those, and then turn around and introduce himself as dilliam benbrough. 

his braincells took vacations, but they always came back. 

“i meant what is it fuh-for?” 

mike shrugs. “for fun.”

“why, do you have other plans that day, bill?” stan crosses his arms, and bill grins. 

“i’m in. on wuh-one condition.” 

* * *

“are you kidding me?” eddie scowls. “cowboy attire mandatory?”

“i don’t know why you’re complaining, eds; it’s your fantasy come true. i have two words for you, bro.” richie strikes a pose and the sound of his hand slapping against his thigh is too loud in the small space of the clubhouse. “assless. chaps.”

“take it back, bill, please.” eddie looks at bill helplessly, but bill’s too busy flipping through a Sears catalogue to see it. 

“shuh-should i get classic brown leather style boots? or should i g-go for a buh-bold black instead?” 

bev leans over his shoulder and points to an image on the sheet, her nail polish still wet. “these. they’ll match that plaid you got at the thrifty mart today.” 

eddie turns to mike, eyes desperate, but mike just shrugs. 

“i’ve been looking for a reason to wear my cowboy hat. sorry eddie.” 

richie slaps his thigh again and raises his eyebrows suggestively at eddie. “c’mon cowboy. saddle up, eddie, we’re goin’ full gay cowboy. wanna share a tent with m—.” 

eddie, red with fury (and flushed with embarrassment) punches richie’s shoulder. richie cackles, and cackles, until eddie’s pout twists like he’s holding back his own giggles; until stan turns to mike with a flat look and asks if they can be uninvited. 

“we need eight to square dance, stan.” 

eddie stops mid-tousle with richie and squawks. “we have to dance?” 

bill looks up from his magazine and sighs. “it’s a barn party eddie.” 

eddie flips him off, and this time they all laugh. 

* * *

“oh my god.” 

“wow.”

“holy shit, benny boy!” richie puts his hands on his hips and slowly turns in a circle, surveying the empty barn. “you out-fuckin’-did yourself, now!” 

“richie tozier!” calls a warning voice from the corner, and jessica hanlon gives him the stink eye from thirty feet away. “you watch your mouth while i’m around.”

richie holds up an apologetic hand, though his mouth quivers with the shadow of a smile. “you got it, mrs. h!” 

“nice, richie,” bev smirks. she turns to ben. “seriously ben, this place looks incredible.”

the lights were the hardest part: stringing them up in the rafters, wrapping them around the old wood and across the walls… ben had suffered his share of splinters and spider encounters. it’s a big barn too, and ben’s hands were sweaty from the early june heatwaves (and nerves from the spider encounters). but he’d managed, with the help of mike and his uncle, and now the whole barn was strung with fairy lights and chinese lanterns. 

“it’s dreamy,” bev says, looking ben in the eye as she does. “romantic.” 

ben goes as crimson as the barn and looks at his feet.

“thanks bev.” 

“are you guys gonna’ help set-up or just stand there like raisins on a celery stick?” jessica stands behind the group now, a sheen of sweat on her forehead. “your poor friend is struggling over there and you all are looking at the lights like a bunch of moths.” 

mike turns to where bill’s currently putting up the big banner he and bev painted. well, trying to put up the banner. actually, struggling is really the word he’s looking for. every time bill would get one side taped up he’d walk to the other, but just as he’d get that corner taped down the first side would fall again. mike bites his lip and tries not to smile too wide. 

they all stand there for another few seconds, watching bill continue to struggle, before mike shakes his head and jogs over to help. 

“oh!” bill says as mike pressed his palm to the paper to keep it up as bill fought with the tape dispenser. “th-thanks, mikey.” 

“no problem, bill.” mike watches bill attempt to rip the tape with his teeth. “are you going to the barn party with anyone?”

bill pauses, looks up at mike with the strip of tape still in his mouth. “uhh. the rest of yuh-you guys?”

“i meant as a date.” mike’s face is perfectly calm, but the cage of his rib bones shakes noisily with the thumping of his heart. “are you, you know, going with anyone?”

bill starts fighting with the tape again. “uh, n-no.”

“do you want to go with me?”

bill manages to rip off the tape he needs, and finally secures the poster. mike steps back cautiously from the wall, just in case it decides to fall again. nothing moves. mike looks back to bill, who still hasn’t answered. 

“yes. yuh-yeah.” bill smiles, a soft thing, and nods. “that’d be awesome, mikey.” 

“cool,” mike says, feeling very, very cool. “very cool.” 

* * * 

“whoa, eds, slow down—eddie, damn, what’re you running for?” richie’s keeping up pretty easily with his long legs and therefore long strides, but eddie’s practically jogging at this point and soon richie’s going to have to do the same. “what’s goin’ on, cowboy?”

“don’t cowboy me,” eddie grumbles, his boots making a little click click with every step as the fake spurs tapped against the sidewalk. 

richie stops. “eds, are you mad at me?” eddie’s still walking, albeit a little slower now. “eddie.”

“i’m not mad!” eddie says, madly, though he stops walking too. “i’m just. i’m. ugh!” eddie makes a little noise of frustration and richie tries desperately not to feel so fucking fond about it. “why didn’t you ask me to go with you to the barn party?”

if richie wasn’t already frozen to the spot, that would’ve knocked him out cold. “wh… what? whaddya mean? i’m here, with you, right— “

“but you didn’t ask. you just showed up unannounced like you always do.” 

“well yeah that’s just how it is—”

“but why didn’t you ask?” eddie turns, sparks of red on high cheekbones turned orange in the lamplight. he looks like a puppy, ears turned down and big brown eyes hiding sadness under the brow of anger that covered it. the pieces clicked together in richie’s head. 

“oh. ohhh. i get it.” richie shoves his hands in his pockets. “you wanted to be romanced.” 

“that is not what i said.” 

richie takes a few steps forward. “you wanted me to get down on one knee and lend you my kerchief as an invite to the debutante ball.” richie, playing up the western twang he’s taken on, over-pronounces every syllable in debutante. eddie scoffs to hide the beginning of a laugh. 

“shut up richie, i was just saying—“

“well, mistah edward j. kaspbrak— 

“don’t call me that.”

“— would you do me the honor of bein’ my pardner—“

“i hate you.”

“and accompanyin’ me to the hanlon barn party so i don’t haf’ta ride solo tonight?”

richie’s got his hand cupped under eddie’s chin by now, and the other arm curled loosely around eddie’s waist. in the early twilight glow, richie’s eyes shine with amusement and something else; something that’s always wrapped in every glance sent eddie’s way. love, probably, though eddie’s still scared to say it and richie’s no better. sometimes richie knows he’s in love but he also knows he was in love last year, and the year before, and the year before that one, and every year that goes by richie’s love feels deeper and stronger and real-er. richie used to think love was a peak at the top of a mountain of feelings but being with eddie has him thinking that maybe it isn’t, that maybe love is just a mountain and richie never wants to stop climbing. 

“yes, asshole, of course i want to go to the barn party with you.” eddie’s not even trying to look angry anymore. richie wants to kiss him, and he goes to do so, but the oversized rims of their cowboy hats bump together and it makes them both laugh. 

“gay cowboys sure have it rough, huh?” richie asks. “let’s try that again.” then he tilts his hat back, leans down, and kisses Eddie properly. 

* * *

the lights looked good in the day, but they look downright magical in the dark of night. there’s still a purple tint to the sky, leftover from the stretched out sunset, and though there’s no cracks in the roof to see the stars through, they cast a foggy glow on the grass outside. 

the music is loud, but not too loud, and cheerful, but not overtly so. dancing music, is what it is, and most people are inside making the most out of it. stan’s in there with patty, mike knows—he’d seen them spinning circles around everyone else. mike knows for a fact stan doesn’t take dancing lessons, but the way he and patty swing and dance with such ease and grace makes you think it was practiced. mike just thinks that true love shows in the way you move together. you can always see it in the way people dance. it’s about… well, richie and eddie have it too, and richie’s got two left feet and a tragic lack of the “being able to take things seriously” bone. 

it’s in the way they look at each other, though, the way eddie’s face pulls into a joyous adoration when richie spins him around the room obnoxiously even though he’s telling richie to put me down, put me down! it’s in the way bev brushes her fingers against ben’s when he hands her a cup of punch, and the way ben’s knee lingers when bev’s knee rests against his where they sit on the bench; like every touch is infinite, and worth every second. it’s in the way stan holds patty as they dance, like she’s something to be held, and the way patty holds him just the same. 

fuck, mike knows he’s only eighteen, but he knows what love, true love, looks like. 

“the p-party is inside,” bill says. an adjacent thought to mike’s last, suddenly here before him: bill, in all his plaid and leather fringe glory. mike’s heart, a racehorse poised at the startling line, takes off.

“i needed a break from the line dancing. your mom is kicking my ass.” it’s true. ms. denbrough sure knows how to country-shake it. 

“she was muh-more excited for this than i was,” bill jokes, and then walks the rest of the way from the barn to the edge of the field where mike is standing. 

“you look good.” it’s a bit sudden, maybe, but that thought evaporates when bill lights up with a shy smile. “the cowboy look suits you.” 

“thuh-thanks, mikey.” bill’s hand twitches, like he’s going to reach out, but it stays at his side. “your shirt. it’s a g-good shirt.” 

nice one, denbrough. bill makes a face. 

“i mean yuh-you look strong it it. i mean, handsome. and strong, tuh-too.” bill’s bright pink, and mike couldn’t think him any cuter. “yuh-you know what i mean.”

“i wear this shirt all the time,” mike says, just to see if bill will flush darker. he does.

“yuh-yeah, i know.” 

mike’s eyes flick to the barn and back. out here, the music is muffled, but mike can still tell hear andy williams crooning his familiar tune from the speakers inside. 

“do you want to dance with me, bill?” 

bill’s hand twitches again. “out here?” 

mike nods. bill nods, and mike bets his heart is knocking against his ribs just as hard as the one in mike’s chest. mike offers his hand, and bill takes it, and the next moment mike’s got bill denbrough against his chest as they sway to the easy beat of moon river.

it’s in the way bill steps on my feet, mike thinks. it’s in the way he apologizes every time, even when i just laugh and promise him it’s okay. it’s in the way he keeps apologizing, cheeks flushed and hands curled around mike’s arms, until mike kisses him quiet. 

it’s in the way that mike’s only eighteen, but he knows what love, true love, feels like. 

[the--sad--hatter]

Washed Up Sharpshooter (Bucky x Reader)

This masterpiece is a submission for Hattersficparty and it was written by @buckitybarnes aka my Nutmeg Cantaloupe (but only I can call her that).

She used the prompt “I’m in shock. Look, I’ve got a blanket.” and I get an (dis)honorable mention as well!

Warnings: Swearing, Unhealthy coping mechanisms? 

Summary: Every hero has to hit the point of rock-bottom. Yours just seems to be a bit...sad. Your idea of rock-bottom was a trashed hotel, hookups, and a mountain of empty Ben and Jerry’s cartons. Bucky has to find a way to get you back on track, and quickly. 

Bucky was angry -- No, he was absolutely livid. Flushed cheeks, tousled hair, sleepless eyes, the works. 

He thought you had died back there, thought you were buried six-feet under your own destruction.

Yet, here you are, supposedly frolicking around with prostitutes and watching the world burn around you without a care in the world. 

What he was the most angry about, however, was that you didn’t tell him.

He white-knuckles the handle of your motel door, thinking better than to bust it down. Instead, he knocks on it sharply and stands to the side, out of the peephole’s sight. 

“Who is it?” you slur from the other side.

Bucky taps a few buttons on his arm before a feminine voice sings out from a mini speaker embedded in it. It was useful for missions.

“Housekeeping~”

Bucky hears a crash from the inside and a loud set of footsteps before the door is swung open.

You look like a fucking mess.

“Oh, good. Look I need --” A strangled noise of surprise and fear escapes your lips. “Bucky?!” You step back, ready to slam the door, but the man wedges a foot in the opening. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Could ask the same to you,” he growls. “The world’s gone to shit when we could be using your help, and here I find you rolling around in fast food.”

You glare daggers. “Don’t judge me. I fucked up the mission, I have every right to wallow in my own misery.”

“Is that what this is?” He cocks an inquisitive eyebrow. “You’re giving up?”

“Not just giving up. Like I said, I have an excuse.” You tighten a fluffy quilt around your shoulders and wave your arms like a child. “I’m in shock. Look, I’ve got a blanket.”

"Don't pull that bullshit with me. Get your ass into gear. We're going home. Everyone's worried sick."

"Why? All I ever do is mess up! I'm just gonna tear down another building again."

When you step back, Bucky barges in, slamming the door behind him. "Are you done feeling sorry for yourself?"

"Not quite. You’re gonna have to drag me out kickin’ and screamin’."

“Done,” he growls, rolling up his sleeves. He takes a step forward and pauses. Something crunched under his steel-toed boot. An unopened condom wrapper. Somehow, the thought of you sleeping with someone else amplifies his rage. 

He bites your name out and keeps his teeth clamped around his tongue to keep his words in check. “What the hell happened to you?”

“I happened to me,” you snap, fingernails digging into your palms as you clench your fists. “I killed a lot of people back there, Buck! You guys don’t need me on your next mission. You don’t need me ever!” You take a step back and suddenly the world spins around you. With a blank face, you careen to the side and stumble.

“Are -- Are you drunk?!” Bucky sputters. Honest to God, he was a little frightened of your state. He’s never seen you this trashed. 

“Fuck you,” you mutter through gritted teeth. “Get out.” But as you’re walking to push him away, your stomach churns in protest and you hold onto the table, ready to hurl.

Bucky’s demeanor quickly changes as he guides you to the toilet, helping you empty the contents of your stomach. 

An hour later and he’s dropped you onto a dining-room chair, did a full scan using FRIDAY’s systems to make sure you weren’t alcohol poisoned, and has given you a tub of ice cream to keep you quiet (as an aside, he’s disgusted by what you keep in the fridge). He threads his hands through his hair in stress, staring at you from across the table and trying to figure out a plan.

“Have you met Kara?” you ask through a mouth full of Rocky Road. “She’s a bitch.” You nearly knock over a beer bottle as you shove the spoon back into the ice cream. 

Bucky, blank-faced like a disappointed mother, hears a voice call from your room. 

“S’not what you said last night!”

Cheeks turning a bright crimson, he gawks at you. “How long has she been in there? Since when did you --” He chokes on his words. “I didn’t think you’d…”

“Oh don’t be such a prude, Buck. It’s 2019.” There’s a twitch of jealousy and anger behind Bucky’s eyes and you throw him a lazy smile. “She’s a confidant for hire. Nothing more. I wasn’t in the mood for sex.”

You were sure that if Bucky’s eyes had gone any wider, they’d fall out of his head completely. Clearly, he was at a loss for words, so you had to take the reins on this conversation.

“I’m not going back.”

“Like hell you aren’t!” He knocks the spoon out of your hand, allowing it to clank loudly against the table. “This isn’t you, Sweetheart.”

“Excuse you?” you cry hysterically, clearly still tipsy. You stand, wobbling slightly before stabilizing yourself against the kitchen island. “I’ve never been happier! I’m great! This is great. You’re just jealous! I am the queen of my domain -- everyone sees me as a hero here at Casa de Francotirador.” 

“Who? You and Kara back there?”

“My very loyal subject, yes.”

Bucky makes a distressed noise akin to an agitated animal. He stares at you, composes himself, and takes a big, lung-stretching sigh. 

Kicking and screaming it is.

He grabs the collar of your shirt with his metal arm and drags you out of your chair with ease, as if you weigh absolutely nothing. Against your protests and shouting, he shoves you out the door. He ignores you, humming a tune to his favorite song as if he’s doing a daily chore like taking out the trash. Quite frankly, it sure feels like it. 

“BUCKY YOU DUMB FUCK, YOU LOCKED MY KEYS IN THERE.”

“Good, you won’t be able to go back,” he states gruffly. He calls in a quinjet, crossing his arms and waiting for your temper to simmer.

Only, an abrupt scream from downstairs only flares your agitation.

“What the fuck was that?!” you shout.

Sergeant Barnes. Enemy detection on the third floor. Armed and dangerous.

Great, fucking fantastic. First, he’s gotta babysit a washed up sharpshooter, and now, he’s gotta deal with assholes on the side. Can his day get any worse?

He pulls his Glock from his thigh holster and swings the emergency exit open.

“What about me?!”

“What about you? You’re piss drunk and you wanna join the battle now?”

“I may be a little tipsy but I can still fight!”

Bucky wants to slam his head against the wall. He really does.

“I don’t have time for this!” Without thinking, he drops a spare pistol in your hand and leaves you to your own devices, running down the stairs four steps at a time.

You follow, surprisingly agile. It was as if having the weight of the gun in your hands sobered you up. You can do this. You can do this. You can do this. 

When you bust the door open behind Bucky, you’re immediately thrown into the crossfire, right in the middle of the shoot-out.

Bucky looks surprised and pale-faced and the three bad guys pause in utter confusion. The cacophony of gunshots have silenced, leaving you between them like a sitting duck.

“What the hell is this?” one of the guys ask. “You recruiting cheap whores onto your team now?”

Red-hot rage fills your mind, blinding your vision and taking over all thought.

“How’s this for a cheap whore?” 

You storm up a little closer and shoot him square in the face.

The other two scramble to shoot you back, But Bucky’s quicker. He’s thrown his twin knives, embedding them into the skulls of enemies like the ninja he was.

“What the hell was that?” he calls out once they’re all taken out.

You sheathe the gun into the pocket of your bathrobe and shrug. “Guess I’m back in business.”

“Oh thank God.” He stands from his spot and holds out a hand. “Let’s go home.”

“First thing’s first,” you interrupt. 

“What?”

“I have to fuckin pee.”

Kara’s Note - I’m assuming you enjoyed this because it’s awesome so go check out @buckitybarnes other works on her blog, they be awesome as well! And yes, she really did write me into this, and yes I wept when i read it. 

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[turdblossommm]

Marry Me {7}

Summary: Bucky and the reader are hopelessly in love with their best friends who are getting married, where the pair first meet. Will there friendship turn into something more or will it crash and burn?

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

A/N: Hiiiii sorry I haven’t been posting! I was up in Elk camp for awhile and didn’t take my computer with me. Good news, I got one! And the thanksgiving part of this is legit the shit my family does

part six // masterlist

You smiled as you teased Bucky’s hair and put a little makeup over his face. He may look like a 

like a hobo but damn was he looking good. You pulled your costume on and put your arms out and Bucky smiled, trying not to laugh

“This is actually pretty great” Bucky wrapped his around your waist and you kissed his cheek as he snapped a picture and posted it to his feed with the caption ‘castaway’. You and Bucky walked the three blocks to Sam’s place instead of driving.

“Hey!” Sam swung the door open clad in a pirate costume. Bucky pulled you along to the kitchen where he poured you a drink and found Steve who was dressed as a army man and his girlfriend Peggy in a women’s version of the costume.

“ I don’t think we’ve officially met, I’m Steve and this is Peggy” He stuck his hand out

“Y/N” You shook both their hands “Pleasure to meet you” The song changed and a smile crept onto Bucky’s face

“We have to dance this is my favorite song” He grabbed your hand as you shook your head

“I do many things Barnes, but dancing is not on of them” Bucky stuck his bottom lip out

“Y/N” He whined

“I don’t dance, I’m form the town in Footloose” YOu looked over to him “I’m Kevin Bacon”

“Shut up and dance with me” He tilted his head to the side and pouted again

 “No! Don’t do that thing with your eyes” You covered your eyes

“Please” He pouted

“The lord in my shepherd” You whispering towards the ceiling while pinching the bridge your nose “Fine” Bucky pulled you along and he started to move to the beat 

“Stop being a damn board” He wrapped his arms around your waist and you moved your hips in sync with his. You dance for multiple songs until Bucky pulled you from the very full living room to the equally full kitchen

“I’ll get drinks, I’m smaller” YOu smiled and started to weave in and out of people until you reached the bar.

“You know Bucky’s my best friend” Steve leaned his back against the bar while facing the living room

“I do” You trend to face him “Is there a problem with my friendship with him”

“I just don’t think he’s in a state to be seeing someone”

“Whatever happens between Bucky and I really doesn’t concern you Steve”

“It does when he’s going to be the one getting his heart broken” He sneered and you chuckled

“It already is Steve” You walked away “And Steve” He turned to you “We’re not seeing each other, were just friends” Bucky took his drink from you

“What you were guys talking about?”

“Nothing and everything” You smiled and chugged your drink “Want to get out of here” He nodded and followed you actions and dragged you out of the apartment.

“Hey what are you doing for Thanksgiving?” You asked during the lunch you two took together

“Nothing” He shrugged and continued to eat his sandwich

“I’m sorry what?” you looked at him dumbfounded “Did you just say you were doing nothing for Thanksgiving” Bucky shrugged and nodded

“It’s not a big deal in my family” YOu smiled and Bucky paled

“Buckle up, I’m about to give you the best Thanksgiving you’ve ever had” Bucky scoffed at your antics knowing damn well that T’Challa only give Thanksgiving day off because he doesn’t celebrate it because he’s not American. So when Bucky found himself on a red eye to Oregon a week before Thanksgiving he was shocked 

“This is going to be the best Thanksgiving you’ve ever had” Bucky shrugged, his parents were immigrants so Thanksgiving was just an excuse to not have school for a few days or have a few days off from work. Bucky was pulled out of his thoughts when a beat up red pick stopped in from of them at the terminal.

“Hey Ben” You yell as you threw your bag in the bed and Bucky followed your actions. You climbed in and sat in the middle while Bucky took the passenger seat

“Hey sis how the big apple”

“Too fuckin big” Your brother glanced at Bucky

“Ben this is Bucky, Bucky this is my younger brother Ben” Bucky shook hands with Ben, being 18, Ben tried to crush his hand “Pitter patter” You swatted your brother’s hand away

“You ready for this year, I’ve been practicing for months” YOu shook your head

“You’re going down baby bro, I am, and will forever the youngest ever champion”

“Not unless I get it this year, then we’ll be tied” You ruffled his hair 

“Focus on the road” Bucky marveled at the scenery as the closer to your house the greener it became. You watched Bucky take in Oregon, the hidden gem in the US, hidden by constant cloud cover. You fidgeted in your seat as Ben turned down the familiar gravel road and the house came into view

“I can never park this thing”

“Double pump the clutch dumbass” you yelled as you practically shove Bucky out of the truck

“There’s my green bean” You spun and saw your parents on the porch and quickly jogged to the porch and hugged your parents.

“Who’s this young man” Your dad looked over your shoulder

“Ma, Dad this is Bucky he’s a friend from the city” Bucky shook your dad’s hand and gave your mom a hug

“Where do you plan to sleep”

“I assume Muriel has my room so I was thinking we take the barn or the mother in law house, where the mother in law should be” You smiled as you refused to call your grandfather’s fifth wife grandma and pulled Bucky along to the barn

“You’re welcome to have the barn” Your mom smiled. You and Bucky settled into the hay loft and he smiled as you introduced him to all the horses and shook his head as you promised to show him the steer and goats later.

“Green bean were going shooting a final time before we head out tomorrow” You gave your dad a two finger salute.

“I can’t believe you grew up like this and now live in a city” Bucky chuckled as you led him back to the other barn

“I know” You giggled “I always told myself I’d never live in the city” You two were staying in the biggest barn where the horses were kept, the other barnes held feed and other tools. You started to back out the ranger while everyone started pulling up on their quads.

“”Y/N/N” Bucky watched you become a completely different person since getting here, it was like the city changed you and here you were completely you. He smiled as you crouched down and squeezed a little girl and ruffled the boy’s hair

“Can we ride with you?” They asked excitably as you looked over you shoulder to a shrugging Bucky

“Course you can, riding with your daddy isn’t any fun anyway”

“I take offense to that” Your oldest brother hugged you before handing you their ear protection “They’re yours now”

“Be nice bother, they go back to you when I’m done with them” You brother rolled his eyes at the mischievous glint in your eye

“You must be Bucky” You brother looked over your shoulder

“That’s would be me” Bucky took your brother’s hand

“Braxton, pleasure to meet you” Braxton and Bucky watched as you strapped the kids into the Ranger and a smiled formed on Braxton’s face “I haven’t seen her this happy since Frank, make sure she stays that way” Bucky watched you make goofy faces at your niece and nephew 

Bucky’s found himself watching you a lot more. He loved watching you laugh, that was his favorite. Watching you be surrounded by your family and loved ones, he felt special to be considered that to you. Bucky could tell you were closed of and maybe that’s because of this Frank, or maybe Clint. Bucky wasn’t sure, he just wanted you to be happy

“Ever shot a gun?” Bucky’s jaw dropped as you pumped a shot gun, taking him out of his trance “I’m taking you silence as a no” You looked over to him

“My cousin’s pistol when I was like 12”

“Alright listen close cause we don’t have a lot of time” YOu pulled him in “Biggest rule, don’t point the gun in anyone’s direction, keep it to the sky loaded or unloaded.” He watched you click a button now showing red “This is the safety, red means dead okay. Always have the safety on”

“Anything else I should know?”

“Don’t miss” You push your other shot gun in his hand

“You got the right choke in there?” Someone yelled at you and you nodded. Bucky watched you walk to the edge of the ridge 

“Pull” Bucky watched in awe as you hit a three of the clay pigeons, he chuckled as you jokingly blew on the end of the barrel. You joined him with a smile on your face, adrenaline pumping in your veins

“Ready?” You smiled and You laughed as his face paled “I’ll go up with you” You walked with him up the ridge, showed him how to properly hold the gun and aim

“What if I miss?” He asked and you gave him a small smile

“Then you miss Buck, I can’t tell you how many times all of us have missed. You learned from these things” You kissed his cheek and took a step back. He missed all three, he missed all three the second and third time he went up, but the fourth time he hit the last pigeon 

“I hit it?” He smiled as you nodded and everyone cheered for him. Bucky didn’t know there were families like this, only in movies. He couldn’t remember if there was ever a time he was surrounded by his own family and felt like this

“Alright everyone” Your dad tried to calm everyone, Bucky listened not being able to take his eyes off you. “We have an early morning tomorrow, have dinner and get some fuckin' sleep cause at dawn we ride” Bucky watched as you shook your head at your father

“I’ve never known anyone to take hunting this serious”

“We’re rednecks Buck, this is life for us” You laughed as you led him back to the house.

Taglist: 

@hailqueenconquer

@2ptonpt

@sebbbystaaan

[sk3ll3tor]

[ Eighteen ]

“Benjamin, we need t’talk,” James said, looking quite annoyed when he entered the stall.

Ben had finished rubbing down Blackbird, his horse, when his father stormed into the barn. His brother Jesse wasn’t far, holding what looked like a broomstick without the broom and Ben wondered if someone got into the property. He furrowed his brows a little and got out of the stall, tilting his head curiously. “Yes, sir? What’s goin’ on?”

“Now, I wanna hear it from you straightaway, cause I hate people talkin’ bout our family behind our backs like there’s somethin’ wrong with us. We ain’t depraved fuckn’ people here. We’re hard workin’ men here. Ain’t no fuckin’ pansies, you hear? Joe says his youngest boy caught you an’ that boy Jack under the overpass canoodlin’ like fuckin’--” “Barret don’t know what he saw, dad--”

The loud crack of his father’s hand across his face made Ben stumble back. It caught him off guard, and he knew there was more that his father wasn’t saying, until he did.

Benjamin was eighteen years old. He had always been a rowdy, hardy boy who wasn’t afraid of anything. From a young age, he was daring, climbing on furniture and in the kitchen to get snacks and share them with his baby brother, or climbing trees to rescue kittens that got stuck without batting an eyelash. Chubby cheeks spread to wide, friendly smiles as he brought home snakes and turtles that inevitably had to be sent back to where they came from. Ben learned to ride and tame horses, and it was strong enough to bounce back up when something got him down. Nothing set him apart from his brothers save his bravado, but somehow none of it mattered when his father discovered that Ben loved another boy. Suddenly, it was as if he were some inferior human being and there was something wrong with him.

“Jack admitted to you two carryin’ on for a while. Said you two fucked, and now he’s gettin’ sent out of state to live with his grandma, and you are goin’ into the fuckin’ man up ‘fore I make you man up,” he spat out venomously, as if homosexuality made him less than the sum of his parts.

Ben’s heart dropped when he heard Jackson was being sent away. He needed to see him right away, and a sense of dread and urgency began to fill him. “Dad, I just--”

“You just NOTHING! No son of mine is a fuckin’ faggot. You call ‘em up right now and tell ‘em that boy’s lyin’.”

“He ain’t lyin’,” Ben said, narrowing his eyes and clenching his fists. If Jack didn’t lie, he wasn’t going to lie either. Ben wasn’t ashamed of who he loved, and it didn’t make him less of a person, but before he said anything further, he was being shoved back. The heel of his boot caught on a grate on the barn floor and he fell backward on to the concrete.

“What the fuck’s the matter with you, you fuckin’ queer,” Jesse said, although his tone was laced less with the venom in his father’s voice and more malicious amusement. Ben raised his arm to shield his face as the broomstick caught his side. He cried out in pain, but was breathless by the time his father’s boot caught his thigh, then his stomach.

Insult after insult rained on him like the blows that followed. Ben tried to get up several times, but was quickly pushed back down. It felt like an eternity for him, and like time stood still as he was unfairly punished for loving another boy. He could feel blood on his face and on his sweater, and saw it pooling on the barn floor. He was fairly certain he was going to die there by the hand of his father and half brother as his vision darkened and he passed out. It would have hapened until Sadie ran in barking loud enough to distract James and Jesse from their assault.

Jamie had let the dogs out, but Sadie shot to the barn like he was going after a fox in the hen house. Jamie ran out after her, not wanting her to scare the horses, but screamed in horror when he saw his brother on the ground flanked by his brother and father, all out of breath and with bloodied hands. Angela let out a mournful wail when she saw her firstborn on the floor unconscious. In the aftermath of what happened, Benjamin was sent to the hospital with broken ribs and a broken arm.

When he was conscious again, Angela was there by his side while Jamie drew turtles on Ben’s cast. “I’m so sorry, baby. I didn’t know he was gonna do that t’you. We found out an’ he said he was gonna talk, but... there’s somethin’ seriously wrong with those men. There’s nothin’ wrong with you, baby. You’re my boy, and I love you so much, and I take you just as you are, you hear me?” she said through her tears, holding his good hand and leaning in to press a kiss to his matted blonde hair. “You should’ve told me, maybe I could’ve done somethin’ before, but there’s no use thinkin’ about it now. It’s gonna be alright, Benny, I promise.” Guilt hung from her shoulders like a heavy shroud, but she was grateful that he was waking up. His face, like his spirits, was battered and bruised, but he was going to be okay.

And he was.

It would take time, but Benjamin Blythe would be successful. He cut off all contact with his brother and father after a time when he realized they would only continue to be toxic presences in his life who showed no care or remorse for how they treated family. Jamie came out, too, but had Benjamin to back him and help him accept himself. Eventually, the other two disappeared from their lives, and all for the better.

[floralreddie]

The Kids Aren’t Alright: Chapter Three (Zombie Apocalypse!Modern AU)

Note: yo yo yo, i’m glad you all liked the introduction of georgie! also check out the sickkk moodboard that the amazing @theliteraltrash did for this fic!!

Warnings: swearing, gore, a lil one gets hurt

Pairing: Reddie (they’re 18)

Synopsis: Richie is already having a pretty shitty day. First, he get’s a C- on his favourite subject, Science. Second, Bev totally called him out for being a giant douche to Eddie that morning. Three, he was totally being a douche to Eddie, because Eddie was making freaking googly eyes at some Senior dude. What’s the last thing needs?

The Apocalypse, that’s what.

Previous Chapter/Next Chapter 

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@pearltheartist@mikoalabearwrites @arielgirly @trashmouth-smashmouth@mzcescapie@somenates27@reddiesballoons@cawcawhawkeye@richietoaster@sassy-molassy@fuckin-richie@zerealromaniangurl@notagoodplace4gods @itsway-past-mybedtime@homohayls @reddiefic@trashmouth-tozier69@temptedtozier@bitchardtozier@virgo-green @reddietofall @gczebos@tozierkasqbrak @temptedtozier @zerealromaniangurl @anniewdoodles@reddiefic @wyattsnoodles  @deux-mille-deux  @eds-trashmouth @thecastlebyers

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Chapter Three: The Hanlon Farm

It doesn’t take long for Georgie to clamber from Ben’s lap and onto Stan’s. He’s a tall kid, for just eleven, but Stan doesn’t seem to give a shit as Bill’s little brother curls against Stan’s lanky limbs and sniffs into Stan’s pristine sweater.

Stan, still quiet and pale, just pats Georgie’s sandy brown hair and stares ahead at the road.

They talk only of what to do when they get to the farm. Mike admits, quietly, that his Grandfather had spoken of venturing into town for oil. Richie watches closely as Mike bows his head, his brow furrowed, and Bev touches his knee with a shaking hand.

They all know what that means.

The roads are quiet on the way to the farm. Only a few cars whizz past them. Twice, a helicopter whizzes ahead.

Richie wonders what the fuck the bigger towns in Maine are like.

Slowly, Bev begins to pull out of her shocked state. She moves to Mike’s place near the glass divider and mutters over Ben’s head to Bill. She tells him that they should get to Mike’s farm quickly. That they should hide the truck. She points to potholes quickly, insisting they needed to keep the truck intact.

Ben says nothing, whereas Bill, still in shock, just nods and hums to Bev’s rambling. Richie kind of guesses it’s Bev’s way of dealing. She was a carer, that was her thing. 

The moment they pull up at the farm, they’re all hurrying to get out of the truck and onto the soft dirt outside Mike’s rickety looking farmhouse. Mike comments quickly that his Gramps his gone, because so is the car. 

Ben hops from the front seat of the car as Mike says this, and Richie reaches for Mike with a solid grip to the broad boys shoulder and a, ‘Sorry, dude’.

Mike looks nothing short of devastated. 

They stand for a just a moment, staring at the house. Bill drags Georgie into a hug, as the youngest of them all chokes on a sob and tumbles into his brothers chest. Stan watches the scene with his mouth pressed into a thin line. Bev moves toward Mike, low murmurs on her tongue as she points to the barn. Ben collapses onto the ground, before burying his hands into his hair and staring hard at the ground.

Richie latches himself to Eddie’s side, his mouth dry and his shoulder pressed close to Eddie’s.

‘This is really happening,’ Eddie says lowly, as the others deal with this moment of rest any way they wish. ‘This...this is like a fucking movie, Rich’. Richie turns, just as Eddie looks stiffly up at him, cheeks still wet and eyes glassy. ‘This is fucked’.

Richie actually cracks a smile at that. ‘I couldn’t have said it better myself, Ed’s’. He shrugs, then. ‘I mean, I probably could have-’

‘We’re going to sleep in the front room,’ Mike says loudly, as Bev draws away from him and pushes his sweaty red hair from her forehead. She looks like shit. She looks like she needs a cigarette, Richie thinks. ‘We’ll lock the doors. Shove anything we can in front of them’.

Bill, still holding Georgie, nods. ‘Let’s d-do it. We can t-try to see if the TV’s w-working’.

They, all of them, stumble into Mike’s house and out of the warm summer air that suddenly feels so cold. The fields around Mike’s house are empty and quiet, and even though they are usually like that it seems so much worse than before. They wait as Bill drives the truck just behind the barn.

Mike’s TV is dusty and hold, and his house is all whites and dark oaks with chipped wood and furniture from the 50′s. He calls his Grandpa’s name once, almost hopefully.

There is no answer.

He sighs, before turning on the TV. They all settles onto sofas and the floor. Richie stays standing. Even though there is a spare seat on the couch beside Ben, Eddie does too.

All that welcomes them is static.

‘Well, that was fucking anti-climactic,’ Richie pipes up after a moments silence.

‘Beep, beep, Richie,’ Stan sighs, situated next to Bill and Georgie. ‘What now, then?’ Richie totally doesn’t miss the way that Stan is pushing down the wrinkles in his shorts with an almost manic precision. 

Mike stands from the couch heavily. ‘Now, we get this place ready. I guess...I guess we’re going to stay here, for now’.

‘Looks like!’ Richie sighs. ‘Are we gonna have to start slaughtering those sheep in the barn? I tell ya, I don’t think I’m made for that farm life, amigo. Richie Tozier is a delicate flower-’

They all ignore him. He doesn’t blame them.

‘We’ve got to assume this is bad, right?’ Ben says instead. They all look around at each other. Stan, Bill and Georgie sit on the smaller and less clean of the couches. Georgie is squished so close to Bill that he might as well be sitting on his lap, and Bill looks at an utter loss as to what to do. He’s staring at the floor, brow furrowed and jaw tight. On the other couch was Ben, Mike and Bev. Bev was biting her painted nails and chewing the side of her mouth at the same time, fuck knows how. Ben was attempting to look calm. Mike looked like he was about to glare a hole through the TV. ‘Like, this is...apocalyptic, or something?’

Richie nudges Eddie in the side as he moves forward. They’re standing behind the larger of the couches, where Bev, Ben and Mike sit. His chucks squeak against Mike’s chipped floorboards. ‘No one gonna say it? Swell’. He sighs. He feels like a dick. ‘It looks to me like it’s the fucking zombie apocalypse, lads and ladies’.

 ‘Fuck, Rich,’ Eddie hisses, elbowing him in the side. He shoots a look to the wide eyed Georgie. ‘Have some tact!’

‘The sooner we come to terms with it, the better!’ Richie defends, slightly annoyed at how fucking adorable Eddie looks so annoyed. He shouldn’t be thinking about that now. 

‘It wasn’t like you got to see your parents like that!’ Stan snaps suddenly, voice raspy. Richie snaps his mouth shut. He wasn’t exactly foreign to the prospect of Stan snapping at him. Georgie whimpers. Bill sighs. ‘It’s okay for you!’

Richie doesn’t miss a beat as he shrugs, though his stomach twists. His parents were almost certainly dead, but he just didn’t care. There utter disinterest in him seemed to have fucked him up just a little. ‘That’s fair,’ he counters. ‘I didn’t. Only people I care about are in this room’. He coughs as they all turn to look at him, all ashen and all scared looking. Bev’s shoulders sag as she stares at him. Jesus, he hates getting fucking sappy. ‘We’ve gotta come to terms with what’s happening, guys. We’ve gotta survive’.

‘He-he’s right,’ Bill mutters finally. He stands, bringing Georgie with him. ‘We h-have to survive’.

-

They go off into pairs. Ben and Bev. Mike and Stan. Eddie and Richie. Mike directs Bill toward his room upstairs, somewhere the Losers had only been twice before. He says that Georgie can rest on his bed whilst they make the farmhouse somewhat defensive against the Dead. Bill says he’s pretty sure Georgie’s sprained his arm.

Bill thanks Mike, just as Georgie unlatches himself from Bill’s side, stumbles over to Richie, and wraps his good arm around Richie’s waist. Georgie was a tall kid, but Richie was a freakishly tall teenager. 

‘Thanks, Rich,’ Georgie mumbles.

Richie has to stop himself from fucking melting, because he really did love the kid. He nods, coughs, and pats the kid on the head before pushing him lightly toward Bill. They all go their separate ways after that. Mike and Stan go to grab any tools that can be used as weapons from the barn, whilst also locking the sheep away. Ben and Bev go to barricade the back door and try to block the windows around the back of the house, whilst Eddie and Richie do the same for the front.

Eddie gives Richie a pointed side-eye as Georgie and Bill wander upstairs, quiet words on Bill’s tongue. Richie blushes red and elbows Eddie in the side. ‘Shut it, Kaspbrak’.

‘You’re my hero, Richie,’ Eddie practically sings, a giggle in his throat. Richie can’t snap at him or shoot back a sassy comeback, because he’s too relieved that Eddie is doing something other than freaking the fuck out or having an asthma attack.

Richie snorts, before pushing the bookcase nearest the living room bay window forward. ‘Help me with this, ya useless sack of-’

‘Beep, beep!’

There’s a moments silence as they grunt, Eddie pulling and Richie pushing the bookcase. A few books fall, but they ignore it. 

With the window covered, Richie sighs and shrugs off his denim jacket, leaving him in his short-sleeved white band tee. Eddie eyes him. Richie grins. That grin soon turns into a stunned, pink cheeked look when Eddie says, quietly, ‘That was really brave what you did; going after Georgie’.

Richie coughs, all nervous, because Eddie is looking at him with that wide eyed look of sincerity that has his stomach doing flips and his mind racing at how fucking beautiful Eddie was. He’s all but forgotten about the Senior guy that Eddie had been making eyes at just that morning (shit, was that only in the morning), because all he can think about is how Eddie is looking at him now. And Richie...Richie is a fucking sucker for anyone being proud of him.

They’re standing in front of the now blacked out window, Richie with his shoulders hunched and Eddie with his fucking pastel jumper and his serious look. ‘Wasn’t gonna let the fuckin’ kid die, was I?’ Richie shrugs, his glasses slipping down his nose. ‘Plus, I’m the fastest, aren’t I? I’m not that much of a dick, Ed’s’.

Eddie frowns even harder. Is it Richie imagination, or did Eddie just take a fucking step forward? ‘I don’t think you’re a dick’. He blinks, tilts his head, before adding, ‘Not all the time, anyway’.

Richie rolls his eyes. ‘Ha fucking ha’.

They stare at each other, before Eddie rolls his eyes and reached forward to pointedly slip Richie’s glasses back up his long nose, his tongue peeking out between his lips. Richie’s stomach almost drops out of his ass as the act. 

Eddie drops his hand. Richie stares. Eddie stares back. Then Eddie is sighing and leaning forward, and Richie’s arms automatically come forward to land on Eddie’s shoulders as Eddie pressed his forehead against Richie’s chest and Richie is going into fucking cardiac arrest, he’s sure of it.

‘What the fuck is even happening, Rich?’ Eddie mutters angrily, and Richie blinks, making sure no one is there as he slowly wraps his arms around Eddie’s warm and solid back. ‘Why the fuck is this even happening?’

Richie shrugs. ‘Fuck knows. Probably some shitty government experiment. I like The Walking Dead, but not so much that I want the shit to be real’.

Eddie snorts. There’s a pause as Richie slowly, almost unsure, rests his chin on top of Eddie’s head. They’ve done this before. Hugged. Been touchy. They’ve always been like that. It might have receded a bit when Richie realised just how much he fucking liked Eddie, but Richie was a touchy person. ‘People are dead, Rich. Our parents...all of them...they’re dead’.

Richie nods, chin jutting against the top of Eddie’s head. It’s pretty fucking terrifying. Hours ago, the scariest thing to all of them was the prospect of going to College alone. Now, it was the end of the world. He pulls Eddie away, mouth twisted into a frown as he holds Eddie at arms length , brown eyes on brown. ‘I know, Ed’s. But we...I mean, my cheesy as shit speech earlier wasn’t just for show. We’ve got each other, right?’

Eddie, who is ashen and sweaty, sags and smiles a little. Richie’s heart leaps. ‘Yeah, I guess. You’re being oddly fucking deep today, Trashmouth’.

Richie shrugs, hands still on Eddie’s shoulders. ‘End of the world got me all poetic and shit, I guess’.

Eddie rolls his eyes. Richie grins. Then...well, it’s like they suddenly look at each other at the exact same moment, and something in the air shifts. Richie had moments in which he’s wanted to kiss Eddie a fuck ton. When they’re drunk. When he’s high. When Eddie is laughing. Pretty much all the time.

But in that moment, with the way in which Eddie’s dark eyes flash down to Richie’s lips, Richie almost thinks that Eddie wants to kiss him, too.

Of course, it’s that moment that Stan decides to fucking scream.

‘Fuck!’ Eddie swears, yanking himself away from Richie. He’s already tearing open the door before Richie can even comprehend what the fuck just happened. Bev and Ben stumbled into the hallway from the kitchen, chests heaving and eyes wide.

‘What the fuck are you doing?!’ Bev yells. ‘Come on, Rich!’

He does.

What they find outside is a fucking terrifying sight. Mike is lying on the floor, scrambling to his feet as Stan attempts to push something off of him. They’re a few feet from the front door.

Eddie is standing there. They all are.

It’s one of them.

One of the Dead.

And it’s on Stan.

[the-three-eyed-ravenclaw]

Of Monsters & Men - Pt. 2

Part One  |  Part Two (you are here)

Alright so I finally got around to proofing this. Wow. So. Many. Errors. And half the shit was confusing and unnecessary. I also saw that I had out my own name in where it was supposed to be Y/N like what the fuck? I am sorry for that mess, I have heavily edited this part so if you are going to read the next part I would reread this one. 

Hope you enjoy!

Below are some choreography videos for the two songs that the reader dances to. These are somewhat what I imagined for these scenes. Also Below are links to the songs mentioned in the fic.

Havana

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZUEU-dVUjVQ starting at 2:43

Desperado

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2Xyn8Go4frQ

Okay so it’s like 5 in the morning and I have been working on this for 6 hours straight. I am going cross-eyed. This has been very briefly proofed, so if there are any errors, I’ll fix them in the morning! (or really afternoon cuz my ass ain’t waking up till about 2 pm)

Anyways, here is part 2. I hadn’t planned on this part being so long, but it just came out of me as I was writing. This part is gonna be kind of boring because it the readers point of view of part 1 and it also has a lot of back story. so please hang in there. 

As always, feedback and constructive criticism is welcome. If you like this story let me know! I plan on this being a multi-part fic, but if no one likes it then I won’t continue it.

Songs mentioned in the story are

Havana by Camila Cabello

Desperado by Rihanna

Finesse Remix by Bruno Mars

Someone mentioned that the pictures were distracting last time so i left them out this time round. Except the one ben barnes gif. I mean who doesn’t want at least one of those? Especially when its one of him being so sexually aggressive. :)

Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader

Length: Almost 7,000 (hot damn)

Warnings: Cussing, sexual situations, innuendos, bad writing and grammar? fucking sue me

Your eyes scan the vivacious dance floor. There was always something you felt that was extremely freeing being a nameless face in the crowd. You could be anyone and no one, but tonight you were someone. Tonight you had a name, Rachel Manafor. Rachel was a young entrepreneur who came out to simply enjoy a night at one of the most popular clubs in New York. Gotta hand it to the case worker who constructed this identity. They had made the cover air tight. If anyone wanted to check up on you, you were covered.

You sighed as you resisted the urge to scratch your scalp. You never were one for wearing wigs. Honestly, I don’t know how Nat handles this. The woman has more missions that she goes undercover for than Kellogg’s has cornflakes. I’ve only had this wig on for three hours and I am ready to strangle something. Your eyes continue scanning the crowd. You clock all the visible exits making sure there aren’t any unforeseen obstacles that could have popped up in the last 10 minutes.

You take note of the Anvil security stationed at the visible exits. Ah, your target must have finally arrived. You look for him on the dance floor and at the bar, but you don’t see him. Since the babysitters are here, he must be close by or on his way. They are probably here to secure the building first. Alright, time for momma to go to work. Get ready boys.

You start making your rounds of the club, checking out the formation of the security and their station points. Dancing your way across the dance floor isn’t easy. The crowd is packed in so tightly that it’s hard to even breathe. You wonder how anyone is able to move in this, but soon realize that the crowd’s dancing is more of a going-with-the-flow-of-shoving-and-pushing-lest-you-get-elbowed-in-the-face rather than actual dancing. However, you are finally able to complete three circuits of the club and feel that you have successfully mapped out the room and the security detail. Only one guard posted at each exit? Whoever’s in charge really underestimates who all is coming for this guy and the power and resources they possess. Well, I’m not gonna complain. Makes my job a helluva lot easier.

With the first step of your mission complete, it was time to start the second step, locate the target.

Speak of the Devil… Aldrich had finally entered the club. It had taken a lot of cashing in IOUs to find where your target would be and when he would be there. You had been saving a lot of those favors for a rainy day, but when SHIELD said jump…

As you watch Aldrich immediately head towards the bar, you couldn’t help but let out a frustrated grumble. The little shit was over two hours later than planned, but you know, spilled milk and all that. Your mission was still on track, and that was all that really mattered. You’ll live. Even with that mentality, you lamented over the date night you had made with your bathtub. So much for me time, and I was so excited about that new bathbomb, too. Mr. Darcy, I hope you’ll wait for me. Box of wine, I’ll miss… who am I kidding? I’ll still smash you when I get home. Dear Lord, I am having full conversations in my head now. Maybe Tony was right. Maybe I do need to see a shrink. With your internal monologue mostly over, you start to plan your next move.

You notice that Aldrich brought an additional entourage of bodyguards, not just the ones stationed at the exits. Well at least the guy in charge wasn’t a total imbecile. You watch the group of men disperse amongst the crowd. However, one man sticks close to the target. Must be close guard tonight. You check the man out. Your eyes appreciating the masterpiece in front of you. No doubt this was the infamous William Russo. So, the gossip was right for once, man he is fucking beautiful. Nat, I’ll never doubt you again.

Russo had been on SHIELD’s radar for a few months now. How could he not be? Some Jarhead fresh out of the military, without a penny to his name, suddenly becomes a multi-millionaire in a few short years? That’s definitely some shady shit right there. Hell, the guy drives a fuckin’ Wraith… in New York…. Like what the actual fuck?  You watch Billy remove his leather jacket, revealing the form fitting sweater he wore underneath and you bite your lip. Have mercy.

You shake your head back and forth trying to refocus. Okay enough about tall, dark and handsome. Time to find out where the other Anvil dicks got off too. You look at the beer that some random dude had bought you on your last circuit of the club. He was no doubt hoping to make you feel like you owed him in some sort of sexual favor. Fucking cunt. With that thought, you chug the remaining liquid and slam it on the nearest table, making your way back onto the dance floor.

While maneuvering your way through the crowd, you spot three additional guards amongst the partiers. Their just-a-little-too-stiff dance moves and their constant glancing over their shoulders singled them out as Billy’s men. Oh, and also because they kept talking into their sleeves every two fucking minutes. Real inconspicuous. You shake your head. “Idiots,” you mumble under your breath. This is almost too easy.

With the all the guards accounted for, you make your way to the exit you planned on using to make a quick escape. As you work your way across the floor, you make it seem as if you are looking for a friend. “Samantha?” You cry out with a slight whine and slur to your voice. You’re sure to put on a little show, stumbling and slightly putting your weight on everyone you pass. They started making a narrow path, wanting to avoid a potential collision or the possibility of puke. “Samantha! Where are you?”

You keep moving along until you finally make it to the far side of the dance floor. In your earlier assessment, you took note that the side exit is right by the bathrooms. You thank the gods for your luck. You knew with the packed dance floor and the number of utter buffoons posing as bodyguards, you would have to get Aldrich somewhere private and secluded.

You finally reach the hallway that leads to your preferred exit. You see the guard standing stiffly to the right of the door, arms crossed and a stern scowl on his face. He looked to be in his mid-forties with a bit of gray hair at his temples. He was doing an excellent job of exuding the Don’t Fuck Me Me vibe. You keep up your show of being a drunk girl looking for her friend. You stumble and giggle your way towards him.

“’Scuse me, have you seen S’mantha? Can’t find her anywhere.”

Knock off Jason Statham doesn’t respond just gives you a stern look. You stumble closer to him, hugging the wall for balance.

“D’you hear me? I SAID ‘M LOOKIN’ FOR MY FRIEND S’MANTHAAAA.” You say a little too loudly and with an annoying whine for added effect.

“Look Ma’am, I don’t know who Samantha is, but you’re not supposed to be back here.” He uncrossed his arms as he answered your question, holding them out slightly as if he was about to stop you from coming any closer.

You’re almost close enough to him now that if you were to stumble you would fall right in to his chest, and that is exactly what you do. You let out a surprised gasp as he steadies you. You look up at him and smile.

“Aw thank you! You’re my hero.” You say a little breathlessly as you grasp his biceps. “Oh WOW you’re so strong!” You say with a little awe in your voice.

Your charms don’t seem to be working on the man though. He just looks down at you unfazed.

“Ma’am you can’t be back here.” He repeats.

“Oh, alright you fuddy duddy!” You say as you smack his chest. “I’ll leave, jeez! But if you see S’mantha, tell her that Ray-shul‘s lookin’ for ‘er!” You turn around to leave and take a step forward to leave but stop suddenly.

“Hey sir?”

You hear him sigh and you can tell whatever he says next will have an exasperated tone to it. “Wha-“

You turn around swiftly, delivering a round house kick to his temple, immediately knocking the him out.

“You need to learn to loosen up a little.” You say flatly to his unconscious body.

The next few minutes pass quickly as you secure his hands and feet with some zip ties you hid in your bra. Not much room for a utility bely in this get-up. You drag his body in to some random supply closet and kick off the door knob, effectively locking him in. When you’re done, you straighten your pink form fitting skirt and readjust your bralette making sure none of the goodies were showing. Sometimes it sucks being a woman.

Alright. Phase one complete. Phase two here I come. You make your way back into the mass of bodies. If I never see another club after this mission, it will be too soon. I have had enough of this hot, sweaty mob. You see Aldrich and Russo are at the bar still, so ou make your way to the bar area and hover at the edge dance floor. You take position to make sure you’re seen by the men. Camila Cabello’s Havana starts playing and you start moving to the beat. This next part wouldn’t be hard. Dancing was something you loved, despite your bad memories that were often tied to dancing.

Flashback

You breathe heavily as you wipe the sweat from your forehead. All you can hear are the raps of the cane against the floor as your ballet instructor calls out moves.

 “Pirouette!”

“Arabesque penchée!”

“Grand Jeté!”

America would never admit to being envious of their long-term rivals, but they couldn’t deny that Russia produced two of the best things the world has ever seen: ballets and spies. You were currently practicing for Swan Lake as the Black Swan. Something you never would had thought you would ever do in your life. Being an orphan that had bounced from Foster Home to Foster home since you were 4, your future never seemed too bright. But all of that changed when you were taken in by the White Rose Initiative.

When the SSR caught wind of the Red Room back in the 40s, they were appalled, and rightly so. The fought for years to put an end to the program and rescue those little girls. And for the most part, they succeeded. However, all it took was for one person to have one awful idea under the pretenses that although it may be awful, if it was for the right cause, the ends could justify the means. So, with that thought process, the CIA formed an American equivalent of the Red Room and it was called the White Rose Initiative.

The WRI took in orphaned girls and trained them torturously in the ways of espionage. While they didn’t chain the girls to the bed, they used other means of imprisonment. A decade of mental and emotional abuse did quite a number on someone.

You had been taken in at the ripe, young age of 8. Your body was trained in multiple martial arts and became specialized in dozens of weapons. Your mind was expanded by professors of the highest caliber, mastering all subjects as well as conquering no less than 12 different languages. You were cultured by learning multiple different musical instruments and training your vocal cords to perform even the most difficult operatic arrangements. You built endurance and strength through ballet and dance classes from the highest trained professionals. Needless to say, your body and mind were finely honed weapons, forged to serve the U.S. Government in any way possible. 

During your time with WRI, you endured many different forms of torture. Their goal was to desensitize you so that if you were ever captured, you would not break. Electrocution, waterboarding, extended isolation periods, all seemed like nothing compared to the mental and emotional abuse you suffered under their tutelage. Growing up without love is one thing, but learning to love only one thing in the entire world, and watching it be ripped away from you, knowing there was nothing you could do about it, was too much to bear.

Being inducted to the WRI, doesn’t entail much. You pledge yourself to the United States in a formal deceleration and are you assigned a partner. This partner is with you every moment of every day. Your sparring partner, your roommate, but most importantly, your best friend. Being able to spend your free time with only one person for years on end can only lead to you becoming close. You and  Y/BF/N hit it off right off the bat. You were both around the same age with Y/BF/N only being a few months older than you.

Y/BF/N was all you had. The only person who knew you better than you knew yourself, and you knew her too. This is exactly what the WRI wanted. How else were they supposed to keep their weapons in line? They invested all this time and money making you into a shell of a person who couldn’t break under the most gruesome of tortures even if you wanted to. That is why they gave you only one weakness, and one that they could control and exploit. If you ever misbehaved even in the slightest, failed in training or in education, the person they punished wasn’t you. It was your person that they tortured.

You were always stronger than Y/BF/N. Always just a little faster, a little smarter, a little more determined. You were determined that you would never be the cause of her pain. Y/BF/N, try as she might, was never good at controlling her outburst of rebellion. You both hated the WRI, but you knew that there was no escape from your fate. Y/BF/N however, always held out hope that you all would be rescued from the cruelty. This caused you to “punished” almost daily.

Y/BF/N would always be devastated when you returned to your dormitory with electrical burns or with your finger nails removed, or some other marks that were left from gruesome torturing techniques. You would always console her and tell her you wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Y/BF/N, I don’t know what I would do if you ever changed who you were or your beliefs just to spare me pain. You wouldn’t be you and that would hurt worse than any torture they could put me through.” 

You both would spend hours at night, after lights out, dreaming of the day when you both would be free and able to live your own lives. You both had made pacts that you would never do any missions for your torturers. As soon as you two graduated you would run, never to be seen again. It was something that you planned together, mapping out every single detail until every possible outcome had been predicted and appropriately planned for.

However, what they didn’t tell you was that to “graduate”, you would be put in a fight to the death with the person you had come to know as a sister. It made sense. Why would they spend all this time making you unbreakable only to send you out into the world and have one thing that would make you break in a millisecond? It was smart. You have to give them that. Living it though, was a completely different story.

That fated day was fast approaching, and when it came, you and Y/BF/N were called into the training arena. You could see various weapons littered across the room. You also saw a team of people in the middle of the floor cleaning a large amount of blood off the mats. You and Y/BF/N shared a brief look, both reading each other minds. What the hell is going on? You were the first to see your martial arts instructor emerge from the shadows. When he told you what was to come next, you couldn’t believe what you heard. I have to fight Y/BF/N to the death? You couldn’t get the thought to process. Y/BF/N didn’t seem to phased, which threw you for a loop. She almost looked resigned.

You had always had been opinionated, but you always had a tight reign over your tongue. You feared it would fall back on Y/BF/N. You didn’t even really speak much other than when you were with Y/BF/N in private. So when you aggressively responded to your instructor that you wouldn’t be going along with this sick game. Your instructor was taken aback.

“You can’t seriously believe that I would fucking fight Y/BF/N, My. Best. Friend. to the death.” You say in a low and deadly tone.

Your instructor looked at you in disbelief. He couldn’t believe you, his prized pupil, would speak to him like this. He went to open his mouth, no doubt to reprimand you, but before he could say anything, you feel a punch to the gut. You look up to see who would have the audacity to hit you, and you couldn’t believe what you saw.

Y/BF/N had fucking sucker punched you in the gut. You wheeze as you try to get some air back into your lungs.

“Y/BF/N, what the fuck are you doing?”

“You fucking idiot. I am trying to kill you. Are you that much of a dumb bitch?”

With those harshly spoken words, she moved to send an upper cut to your jaw. You duck easily, but your brain felt like it was short circuiting. All you could process is that Y/BF/N is not pulling any punches. She was going full out. She’s really trying to kill me.

Looking back on it, you can only remember bits and pieces, but your body must have gone into fight or flight mode because the next thing you know you have a Kukri, your preferred blade, in your hand. You’re not sure how or when it got there, but the only thing you can think about is how deeply it is embedded in Y/BF/N’s gut. You let out a heartbreaking wail as your brain fully registers what you have done.

“NOOOOOOOOOO!”

Y/BF/N’s body is leaning heavily against yours. It’s as if she doesn’t have the energy to stand on her own anymore. She looks at you and smiles, blood staining her teeth Your heart shattered into a million pieces in that moment. A moment that dragged on for what felt like a life time, and all you can think is, Oh God, what have I done.

“No.” You whisper. A faint, broken echo of your wail earlier. Y/BF/N coughed but the cough didn’t seem to alleviate any of her pain as lets out a sickly gurgle. That’s not good. Logically in your brain, you could see the signs that her life was nearing its end, but your heart couldn’t accept it. Her body went slack and started to slip down your body. You kneel down with her and prop her head in your lap.

“Y/BF/N, please stay with me. Don’t leave me. You can’t leave me. Not you. Not now. We’re so close. What about that island, huh? We were going to go and flirt with all of the local guys, drink mojitos and do absolutely nothing all day, every day. You can’t leave me. You can’t…” Your voice breaks. “You can’t. You can’t. You can’t.” You repeat the mantra barely above a whisper.

“Y/N.” Y/BF/N draws your attention away from your grief. “You’re free. Don’t make my sacrifice for nothing. Resist. You may have to work for them until you can get out, but… you have to… you have t-” You can see that talking is draining what little energy she had left. Every world is a battle to get out. Every breath more labored than the last.

“Shhhh. Save your energy please. I can’t lose you.”

“No, you… have to… remember… they don’t…. they don’t own you Y/N. Remember. Remember… who… you… ar..” Her last word left her mouth like a sigh as her breathing stopped. Despite what your heart was telling you to do, you didn’t rage and scream. You sat there with her until your instructor came over and put a hand on your shoulder. Numb, you just looked up at him and he offered you a pained smile.

“Congratulations, you’ve officially graduated. Go back to your dormitory and pack up. You ship out at 0800.”

It’s like you were a zombie, you nodded and stood. You neatly folded Y/BF/N’s hands on her chest. She looked so peaceful. With one last look at her face, trying to memorize every feature, you turned and walked away and didn’t look back. It was torture being back in your room, seeing little signs of her everywhere. You could see where she had left her brush on the night stand and her bed unmade, a small defiance to the Initiative. You moved towards bathroom to wash her blood off of your body.

After you had dried off, changed and packed, you looked around your room. It never had been so quiet before. Even when you both were asleep, the quiet was broken with Y/BF/N’s soft snores, something she would deny she did until she was blue in the face. You eye her bed and lay down on it. As you stretch yourself out, you run your hand under the pillow only to come into contact with a hardback book. You pull it out and read the cover. “Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen.” It was her favorite book. She read a little bit of it every night before she went to sleep.

You opened to the bookmarked page. Your eyes scanning the page’s contents only coming to land on the section she had underlined. “There is a stubbornness about me that never can bear to be frightened at the will of others. My courage always rises at every attempt to intimidate me.” You smirked as you read the passage. Then you noticed the little note she had written in the margins. “If this ain’t us, I don’t know what is…” And like that, the dam burst. You let out a sob before you could contain it. You rolled over and shoved your face into the pillow. You let out a blood curdling scream. You could feel tears and snot soaking the pillow. While it felt good to express some emotion finally, when you had cried the last tear, you just felt empty. You got up and put the book in your pack. At least I’ll something of hers.

And thus began your time as the empty shell that you swore to Y/BF/N that they would never make you. For years, you didn’t care if the world lived or died. You didn’t speak to anyone other than reporting to your superiors. You had soon made a name for yourself, and not in a good way. You were good at what you did. You were stealthy and deadly and you never failed a mission. People started calling you Echo after the nymph in Greek Mythology. Hera deprived her of speech, except for the ability to repeat the last words of another.

End Flashback

You come out of your reverie when a new song started playing. The deep thumps of the bass reverberating in your chest. You really shouldn’t be getting this fucking distracted on a mission. However, Your traitorous brain turns back to the past. 

It’s hard for you to think back on your time after WRI. Especially since it was against the dying wish of your best friend. You aren’t proud to say that you lived that way for a long time. You only came out of your zombie like state when the aliens attacked New York.

Flashback

You were walking along the sidewalk with your head down and earphones in listening to some rap music as you made your way to HQ to get your new mission debriefing. Through the loud music in your ears you start to hear screaming. You look up to see a horde of aliens flying about wreaking havoc on the city. You see the innocent people fleeing and fearing for their lives.

As your eyes scan your surroundings to plan your first mode of attack, your eyes land on a mother clutching her son to her chest, who was obviously dead. He had been impaled with a Chitauri staff. The kid couldn’t have been older than 10. Watching her grieve reminded you of yourself with Y/BF/N. And in that moment, you decided that as long as there were evil dickwads out there preying on the innocent, you were going to do anything you could to protect them. You couldn’t help but think that Y/BF/N would be proud of you. No doubt giving you an ear full about it taking so long first though. And with that thought in mind, you began killing as many of those sons of bitches as you could. There was a never-ending stream of them flying around on those damn hover crafts though and you soon became exhausted. You didn’t know how much longer you could hold out.

You pause after decapitating a Chitauri with a loose piece of metal paneling when you hear loud bellows off in the distance. What the hell is that? Next thing you know, you see the Hulk leaping from building to building. You follow his path with your eyes. And as he gets closer, you can hear his roars louder than ever and you fight the instinct to cover your ears to protect them from the sear volume of the noise. You realize he is headed directly towards you. Why is he coming at me, man? What did I do? You see that he passes right over your head though and you turn your head to see where he is heading and you see that you are a few yards from Stark Tower. Oh.

You watch as he swings his body on to the roof and you wonder what’s going on up there, but your thought process is rudely interrupted when a particularly large Chitauri knocks you on your ass. You get up and quickly dispose of him and four others. You then hear what sounds like a jet engine coming right at you. You look up to see Iron Man carrying a nuke on his back.

“What the actual fuck is going on? Did I take LSD without knowing and this is just a bad trip?”

You see him fly into the portal you noticed the Chitauri coming out of earlier and deliver the pay load. You let out a thunderous whoop as did many of the people around you. You hear the nuke exploding in the portal and all of the remaining Chitauri collapse at once. They don’t get back up. 

You look back up into the sky to see the portal beginning to close. You can’t explain it, but when that portal closed, some unknown force knocked you back… like about 30 feet… and slammed you into a brick wall with what felt like the force of a semi-truck going 80 mph. It was a hit that should of killed you. Or at least hospitalized you for months, but before you passed out, you felt a warmth take you’re your body and somehow, you knew you would be alright. The next thing you remember was coming to in a pile of debris.

You look up to the sky again to see if there is still any more action going on, only to see Ironman free falling at an alarming rate. As he draws to close to the ground for comfort, the Hulk swoops in and catches him. They land on the ground not far from you, and you see that Tony isn’t moving. All of the Avengers have gathered around now, and it looks like they have lost hope of him being alive. All of a sudden, the Hulk lets out an ear-splitting roar and Tony jerks awake.

After a heartwarming reunion, the team collects themselves and take in the wreckage that is New York. You are looking at them when Steve makes eye contact with you. He gives you a curious look. You just smirk at him and give him a little wave. He directs the team’s attention towards you and they all start making their way over to you. You hear Hawkeye say, “She take all them aliens out by herself?” And you can’t help but to respond.

“No. Not all of them, about 80% though. The rest are courtesy of the big guy.” You nod towards Hulk and he gives everyone a self-satisfied smirk with a grunt of acknowledgement. “Hulk smash.” He said under his breath in a proud tone.

Tony, who looks worse for wear, looks at the number of dead aliens around you. “Yeaaaah, you got spunk kid. What’s your name?”

“Name’s Y/N, but everyone calls me Echo.”

Nat perks up at this. “Wait. THE Echo? 147 confirmed kills? The silent death dealer of the White Rose Initiative?”

Steve speaks up. “Nat, you know this woman?”

“Know her? I’ve been trying to track her for years. SHIELD has her listed as a potential threat and a potential asset.”

“Hah! Well what do you know! Y/N, why don’t you join the Avengers? I’m sure I can get ole Cyclops to agree. Don’t you think Nat? You know I’m his favorite anyways. He can’t say no to me.”

“Tony, shut up for a second, will you? Y/N, what do you say? I know that Fury would jump at the opportunity to have you be a part of the team, especially after this fiasco. We’re gonna need all the helo we can get.”

“Oh, I dunno man, I mean do I have to wear dumb ass costumes?” You say as you eye up Thor. “I mean a cape, dude? Really?”

You can hear Tony mumble “I like her already,” to Nat and you can hear her chuckle.

Thor, looking offended, responds with, “I’ll have you know that capes are essential for… flying and aerodynamics and… things.”

“Mmm-hmm… Look guys I don’t know. Being an Avenger is this whole thing and I dunno… I’m not into being in the spotlight. I am looking to be on the right side of things though. Got a whole lot of shit to make up for.” Nat nods in understanding. “Widow, think Director Grumpy Mother Fucker will let me join SHIELD?”

The group let out a small laugh at that. Except Cap. He looks a little uncomfortable. Guess his delicate sensitivities doesn’t like cursing. Pussy. “I’ll be sure and let him know! Look we got to get going and report in or said director will have our heads on a platter. We will keep in touch though. You know where to find us.” She says as she gestures towards Stark Tower. You nod in acknowledgement. Well, Y/BF/N, I don’t really remember who you knew me as, but I know who I am going to try to be. I hope it’s someone you would be proud of.

End Flashback

And that’s how you came to be here, in this bar, on this mission. You listen to the song again. The lyrics flowing through you to move your body in a sensual manner.

Desperado Sittin’ in an old Monte Carlo A man whose heart is hollow Mhm, take it easy I’m not tryna go against yuh Actually, I’m goin’ witcha

You close your eyes and feel the music move your soul. Getting lost in music and dance was always an escape for you at your time in the WRI.

Gotta get up out of here And yuh ain’t leavin’ me behind I know you won’t cause we share common interests You need me, there ain’t no leaving me behind Never, no, no, I just want outta here, yeah Once I’m gone, ain’t no going back

You open your eyes and look over to where Russo and Aldrich were stationed. It looks like Aldrich got another round of drinks. Good. The drunker the better. You’re mid-turn in a dance move when you see from the corner of your eyes Aldrich looking in your direction. You smirk to yourself. Off to a good start. You close your eyes again and bite your lip as you let the music take you over again.

If you want, we can be runaways Running from any sight of love Yeah, yeah, there ain’t nothin’ There ain’t nothin’ here for me There ain’t nothin’ here for me anymore But I don’t wanna be alone

You open your eyes and look directly at your target. He seems to be admiring the view. Got ‘em hook, line and sinker. You crook your finger at him with a sultry smirk. He looks over to Russo and says something. They share a short conversation before Aldrich looks back over to you. You make the same motion and let out a small laugh, hoping it would encourage him to come over. He gestures as if to say, “Who me?” You nod and laugh again.

He eagerly makes his way to you.

“Well, hello there beautiful.”

“Hi Handsome. I saw you watching me and wanted to know if you wanted to dance.”

He doesn’t respond. Bruno Mars’ Finesse remix comes on. It’s a little more upbeat, but Aldrich moves to closer to you so that his right leg is in-between yours. If you move, you will be basically dry humping his leg. As you both begin to move to the beat, you hear him ask for your name.

“Rachel.”

“That’s a pretty name. Name’s Chad. Chad Aldrich.” He says very matter of fact tone. He was clearly expecting you to know who he was from his last name alone.

You give him a blank stare.

“You know the Aldrich’s? They are a branch of the Rockefeller family tree. I’m a very important person.”

Man, this guy is a dick and I’ve only been talking to him for two seconds. You lean up to whisper in his ear. “Oh, I am sure you are. Very. Important.” You lick into his hear on the last word and Chad is speechless. Thank God for that.

You two dance to the upbeat song for a bit more before it bleeds into the next. This new one slow and sensual. Definitely a bump and grind song. You move to turn around and press your back to his front. You start to move to the beat and Chad wraps his arms around you, putting his head next to yours.

You dance like this for a couple more songs and you can feel that Chad is getting a little excited. You lean your head back on his shoulder and press your rear more firmly to his groin. He lets out a groan, that is impossible to hear in the loudness of the music, but you can feel it coming from his chest. You turn your head slightly to whisper in his ear.

“I want you to fuck me hard in the bathroom.”

“Oh, someone’s kinky.”

“Tell me about it daddy.”

With those last words he looks at you excitedly and nods an okay. You turn to pull him away. You can feel him signaling to Russo and making some gestures behind you, but you choose to ignore them. As you make your way to the bathroom, you can feel Chad getting more and more handsy. He impatiently grips your hips and pulls himself close to you. He runs his hands across your stomach and squeezes one of your breasts.

You finally make it to the bathroom, but before you can enter the door, Chad turns you around and forcefully molds his mouth to yours. He seriously lacks finesse. You chuckle internally at your pun from thinking back to the earlier song. God I am corny. You tolerate the kiss for a few moments before you break it off and pull him into the bathroom. You quickly shoo out any other guys. Man, the bro code must be strong if the guys just willingly leave in the face of a possible quickie for their fellow dude.

Chad grips your shoulders and roughly pushes you against the wall. You two make out for a minute before a guy in a plaid shirt enters the bathroom. He doesn’t seem as accommodating as the other guys. He grumbles, “Get a room, fucking horn dogs.”

You start to shove Chad into a stall. Alright here comes the fun part. You forcefully push him down on to the toilet and straddle his lap. He makes a satisfied sound and that’s the last thing you hear from him as you pinch the pressure point in his trapezoid and he quickly passes out.

You move quickly to remove your skirt and pull out your finger printing kit that had been disassembled and strapped to your inner thigh. You deactivate the photostatic leggings you had on and they turn back to their original black color. You would have to thank Nat for getting them for you. You checked the photostatic veil you had on too. It was still intact and fully functional. Perfect. Everything is going smoothly.

You make quick work of getting his prints and a strand of hair for DNA. With that done, you whip out your phone and open the app that Peter had developed for Tony that allows you to basically have a portable eye mapper. This is ingenious when you need to get retinal scans. Good job Spiderling. You quickly level the camera lens at his eye that you prop open. You watch the load bar as it slowly progresses. I have about 10 minutes before I have to get the heck out of dodge. You think over your checklist.

You hit a stroke of luck when the guy came into the bathroom. He was wearing a perfect change of clothes. It would definitely be beneficial to your mission if you could quickly change your appearance.

You see that the app has completed its mapping and you make your way out of the stall. You see the guy that came in has finished his business and is currently washing his hands. He makes eye contact with you through the mirror. You smile ruefully at him.

“Can you believe he passed out? What a fuckin’ light weight am I right?”

“Yeah, sure, whatever.”

He turns to get a paper towel to dry his hands. Using his distraction, you pinch the same nerve in his traps as you did to Chad. The guy collapses on the floor. You turn to throw away the skirt you had on and you remove the sheer shirt and toss it in the trash too. You make your way back to the guy and you strip him of his flannel shirt and white t-shirt underneath. You rip the bottom half of the t-shirt and part of the sleeves. You slip the shirt over your bralette and tie it to where it fits firmly across your chest. Next you roll up what was left of the sleeves to make them a bit more feminine looking. Then you take his flannel shirt and tie it around your waist.

You look over to the guy on the ground and decide to put him in the stall with Chad so that he doesn’t cause problems for you. You grunt as you drag him to lie face down on Chad’s lap. You laugh out loud. When they both come to, they will be very surprised at the situation they find themselves in. You take the bits of t-shirt you ripped off and tie their hand to the back of the commode.

With the majority of the job done, you exit the stall and go to remove your wig. Fucking finally. When all of a sudden you see the door to the bathroom slowly creek open and you see a gun stick through the crack. You watch as the person holding the gun finally enters the room fully and the door swings shut behind him.

He looks at you as you look at him. Fucking Russo with his fucking perfect face and hair has to ruin fucking everything. Fuck. You can see him trying to piece together what he is seeing. You fully remove the wig and your Y/H/C falls down and you almost let out a sigh of relief.

You see him taking in your appearance and you can see it in his eyes when all of the pieces come together. You almost sarcastically congratulate him on how fucking slow he was. You don’t though. You just look at him for a second more before you narrow your eyes and take up a fighting stance. You throw a smirk at him. You needed to get that gun away from him ASAP. Lucky for you, it seems he forgot he was even holding one.

Before he can think of what to do next, you charge at him. Bring it on pretty boy. Let’s see who has more balls the ballerina or the marine.

[burkedeboer]

I Look For Trouble

4 M, 1 F.

Blake Bartels is soon to be the first in his family to graduate high school. When he goes to his sister’s trailer to deliver the news, he encounters the rodeo cowboy she’s been hooking up with - as well as her boyfriend who’s just broke out of prison.

In one of the many trailer parks on Oregon’s High Desert, Lacy Bartels’ singlewide is about to get very crowded.

This piece was written in the fall and winter of 2016/2017. Full text below the break.

The unkempt singlewide trailer of LACY BARTELS, 23. Her hair is kept in boxer braids. She sits at the folding table in her kitchen, in a busted sort of chair, working on a two stroke dirt bike motor. She drinks beer. There’s another chair at the table, empty, with a leather jacket draped on it. On the back of the leather jacket is a big biker gang sort of back patch. “APES OF DEATH” across the top, “CENTRAL OREGON” across the bottom, sandwiching a cartoon baboon riding a motorcycle and swinging a scythe. Across the room, a barstool is duct taped onto a chair, jutting out in an improvised sort of something that renders both seats unsittable.

(A call from outside.)

BLAKE Y'ello?

LACY Blakester! In here!

(Enter BLAKE BARTELS, 18. He packs a skateboard.)

BLAKE What up.

LACY What up yourself. You want a beer?

BLAKE If you're offering.

LACY I believe I just offered. So what’s up?

BLAKE Maaan... I got some good news.

LACY Yeah?

BLAKE What are you doing next Friday?

LACY Same thing I do every Friday. Work and party.

BLAKE Well between those two, if you think you can fit it in your schedule... I'm walking at graduation.

LACY Get out.

BLAKE I won't.

LACY Get the fuck out!

BLAKE Motherfucking graduating!

LACY Holy shit! Gimme a fuckin' hug! Blake Bartels is gettin' himself a degree!

BLAKE Holla atcha boi!

LACY I'm hollerin'! I'm so proud of you. For real, I'm so proud.

BLAKE Thank you, thank you.

LACY Damn. You making announcements, right? Invitations and shit?

BLAKE I don't know about all that.

LACY Oh you got to. Send them out to all the aunts and uncles. They send you back a lot of cash.

BLAKE If that's the case.

LACY And they gotta send you more since you're the first in our family to ever do it.

BLAKE Is that the rule?

LACY Hell yeah! That's the rule for the graduation party, give you at least a hundred bucks or they don't get in.

BLAKE Hell of a cover charge.

LACY Shit, you earned it. And you're gonna have a graduation party too, by God.

BLAKE Only if you plan it.

LACY I'm not planning shit, but you are having one.

BLAKE You know you're gonna have to quit telling me what to do once I get this diploma.

LACY Bullshit. Even if you have a fancy paper, I'm still the oldest.

BLAKE Yeah but that fancy paper gives me a leg up.

LACY We'll see about a leg up. Ben has a leg up, with all his concrete money, but I’m the boss of him too. You know what, yeah, you’ll get a leg up, all right, when I fuckin’ pin you.

BLAKE Give me as much time at the mill as you've had and you won't.

LACY Okay. No. I'm gonna stop you right there. Nuh-uh. Not happening.

BLAKE What's not?

LACY You and that mill. You got a fucking degree, Blake, you're not going to any veneer plant. And you’re not working concrete with Ben either.

BLAKE What am I supposed to do then?

LACY You're gonna go to college, for one.

BLAKE Ah, fuck that.

LACY Well you're gonna do something. You're too smart to end up here. You've got that goddamn paper to prove it, too. It's gonna say "This diploma goes to Blake Bartels, smarter than all other Bartels before him, and too smart to end up working on a fucking gluepress. Or whatever the fuck."

BLAKE I mean... Sure, I got plans. But I'm done with school, like I've had enough. I’m gonna get me some skating sponsorships.

LACY X-Games and shit?

BLAKE Something like that.

LACY I can dig it. Aim for the stars. Even if you don't make it that far you'll land some place better than here.

BLAKE You don't like Redmond?

LACY I love Redmond. But you are not me.

BLAKE We're not that different.

LACY We're not different at all. You're just smarter.

BLAKE If you say so.

LACY I do! And you’re not gonna do none of that Apes of Death shit either. I already told Hunter flat out. You are not allowed.

BLAKE Like I’m into motorcycle stuff anyway.

LACY Yeah. Yeah, good. And here’s the rule: If I see you come drop off your application at that front office I'm kicking your ass.

BLAKE Lacy.

LACY Hey, I'm not saying you can't do it. If you do end up working with me, or at any other mill, fine. But just know. Before you start your first day, I'm kicking your ass.

(Enter MANNY LOPEZ, 26, from the bedroom. A broad-shouldered and strongly built rodeo cowboy. He is barefoot and barechested. He looks at LACY. Looks at BLAKE. BLAKE looks at him, then looks at LACY.)

LACY All right, I’m gonna go see if the Husqy will start now. (She takes the motor and exits. MANNY takes her seat and pulls on a shirt. An awkward silence.)

MANNY Congratulations.

BLAKE Thanks.

MANNY You know, if you can balance on a skateboard you can balance on a bull.

BLAKE What?

MANNY (He goes to the barstool contraption.) I’m just saying. Rodeos can have a big payout. (He sets to practicing bulldogging: He drops in next to the stool that juts out, swings his right hand onto the other side of the stool with the palm out as though to grab the body of the steer, then swings his left hand up as if over the saddle horn. His two hands then slide up to grab the “horns” of the stool and he swings his feet behind him, taking the chair to the ground. This action is very sudden and explosive, but very studied and deliberate. He sets the chair back up. He continues to repeat this action.)

BLAKE Oh, ah, nah, I’m not really into that redneck shit.

MANNY Redneck? No manches, man. Es ranchero. Cowboy.

BLAKE Well rednecks and cowboys, they’re kind of one in the same.

MANNY No mames, güey, quit playing.

BLAKE What are you doing?

MANNY Practicing. For bulldogging. I need to shave time off if I hope to make the finals. I’ll tell ya what I really need is a new horse. I keep jumping the gun and breaking out of the runway before the steer does. That’s a penalty. Or I get going too late. Keep missing points, man.

BLAKE I’m sorry.

MANNY Mm.

BLAKE So are you and Lacy--?

MANNY Don’t gossip about family, primo.

BLAKE I’m not. Just asking. ‘Cause, you know, I thought she was with Hunter.

MANNY Yeah well Hunter’s in prison and a woman has needs. Not that you want to know that about your sister.

BLAKE Eh, we’re all adults. MANNY “Adults.” Fuck that. If someone told me my sister had needs, I’d punch ‘em.

BLAKE So you want me to punch you?

MANNY I told you no manches. Quit playing. I’ll tell ya what though, if I don’t get to Vegas for the Finals, this fall I’m going up to Washington. They have apple orchards and pear orchards for miles. Every fall a big harvest. Good money. You should come.

BLAKE Yeah?

MANNY Hell yeah. Good money. Not as good as rodeo money, but if you’re not into redneck shit…

BLAKE Yeah, not really.

MANNY I’m telling you, Blake, rodeo makes good money. Especially bull riders. Belt buckles, cash prizes. And all the cowgirls all over you, man. Ay, las chicas. Las vaqueras son muy calientes en sus Levi’s. ¡Cómo los jeans cuando abrazan a un culo! Y tè echan los perros, y dicen “¡Bailemos, bailemos!”

BLAKE Sorry man, I don’t speak Spanish.

MANNY What the fuck, is that what you’re gonna tell ‘em? ...Cabron. I will teach you how to talk to girls in Spanish.

BLAKE Oh, yeah, thanks.

MANNY I’ll be your Cyrano. Your fuckin’ Rodeo Cyrano.

BLAKE Yeah, like I said I don’t speak Spanish.

MANNY Man, you get to Vegas you can win a million dollars from one ride. One ride, win a cool million. If you can balance in the halfpipe you can balance on a bull.

BLAKE That’s what I’ve heard.

MANNY You do have some start up costs, I won’t lie to you. Do you have boots?

BLAKE Like cowboy boots?

MANNY …Yes, Blake.

BLAKE No, I don’t have any.

MANNY Okay. That’s a chunk of change, just getting boots. I might have an old pair. Then you got your bull rope, helmet if you choose to wear one, a hat if you don’t. Most white guys wear helmets these days. You also need to get your vest, glove, boot straps, and rosin.

BLAKE Well I don’t really have the cash for all that.

MANNY No problem, boss. I’ll front you all the cash. No problem. Just loan it to you, you can pay me back, 30%.

BLAKE Thirty -- You know loan sharking’s illegal, right?

MANNY Quit playing. I need to buy a better horse. All there is to it, I need to save up some money, make some money. I need a better horse.

BLAKE Well maybe Washington apple money will get it for ya.

MANNY Mm. Mhm. You know the first time I went up to one of them, I’d been working on a ranch down outside of Jordan Valley. It was a buffalo ranch. There were some white boys working, and some immigrants, but mostly it was us Chicanos. Now the BLM, they’re a bunch of fuckers. Trying to get between a man and his land. “Are you using water right,” “Are you grazing right." Bureau of Land Management. Bureau of Assgrabbing Horseshit, I say. Bunch of government putos from the fucking government de la chingada. You know what they started doing?

BLAKE What’s that?

MANNY They started coming onto the ranch asking for documents. Anyone who was brown they tried to kick us off. Federal fucking government came asking for my passport, I told ‘em “Shit, motherfucker, I’ve never been outside of this country.” Me and this older Chicano, name of Diego, him and I decide “Fuck this.” He’s old as hell, he tells me about the Washington apple fields. So we go. We work until our first place is done, work until our second place is done, keep working ‘til we get every apple picked. Could make about a hundred dollars a day doing that shit, I mean we’re rolling in it.

BLAKE Why’d you leave?

MANNY Why else? Time passes. Things change. You can’t pick apples in winter. So we went back to the buffalo ranch.

BLAKE Huh.

MANNY Yep. Then Old Diego fell off the barn we were thatching and cracked his head open. Never saw brains like that before. (Outside, a motorcycle starts.) Mierda. (He goes out the door.) ¡Mi estrellas! ¡Tu pinche moto funciona! (BLAKE watches him go. The motorcycle is heard driving away. BLAKE sips his beer. He goes back to the chair and picks up the jacket. He observes the patch. He flips it on. His back to the door, he kicks his weight back onto the tail of his board and kicks the nose up. Standing such, he finishes his beer. KENAZ BEN CANAAN, walks up to the steps. 28, with an edge about him - both in how the world sees him and how he sees the world. He wears a long sleeve plaid shirt over his t-shirt, and has chains and bandanas hanging around his pants. He observes BLAKE.)

KENAZ You know you’ve got to earn them colors, right?

BLAKE (Pops the board to face KENAZ.) Hey Hunter, I- I, uh… (He tries to get the jacket off as quick as he can.)

KENAZ Calm down, kid. I’m not looking to start a tummel.

BLAKE Start a… Yeah.

KENAZ I don’t mean you get to keep it on.

BLAKE Oh, right, no. (He takes off the coat and extends it to KENAZ.)

KENAZ Lacy home?

BLAKE Nah… Nah, I don’t think she knew you were out yet. She didn’t say anything about it.

KENAZ Well, she wouldn’t know, as little as she visited me.

BLAKE Oh. Uh, Lacy was just working on that Husqvarna, got it running. So that’s where she’s at, she just, uh.

KENAZ She’s always been a real Yiddisher kop when it comes to motors.

BLAKE Oh… Yeah.

KENAZ This is some welcome wagon.

BLAKE Well, no, it’s great to see you, Hunter, I-

KENAZ All right, that’s enough with the “Hunter” stuff. That’s not my name no more. In fact… (He pulls up his jeans and gets a flick knife out of his boot. He takes the jacket and cuts the nametag off from beneath the VICE PRESIDENT tag.) I'm gonna have to talk with Mad Dog about getting a new tag printed.

BLAKE Oh… What’s your name?

KENAZ (Tucks the knife back into his boot. Offers his hand.) Kenaz Ben Canaan, nice to meet ya.

BLAKE What was that?

KENAZ Call me Kenaz. It’s Hebrew. It means Hunter. In Hebrew.

BLAKE Word.

KENAZ How old’re you these days, kid?

BLAKE Eighteen.

KENAZ Eighteen. You think you’re a man?

BLAKE Uh…

KENAZ Yeah, I did too. Thought I was a man. Thought I was a big tough man. I didn’t know. I didn’t have a clue what being a man actually meant. I should have been here for you, Blake. I should have seen you grow.

BLAKE That’s okay.

KENAZ I don’t regret it though. If I hadn’t gone to prison I wouldn’t have found the truth. Kind of funny how life works, right? You have to go through the desert before you can get to Yisrael. If I never went to prison, I would not have realized. “A man does not commit a transgression unless the spirit of madness is entered into him.” Yes. I always knew I was thirsty, Blake. I never knew I was thirsty for God’s flowing waters. I always just thought I was jonesin’ for H. (The dirt bike’s approach is heard. Both turn towards the door. BLAKE turns back to KENAZ.) That must be Lacy.

BLAKE No! Uh, no, I’m sure it’s not, probably not, I mean she just left.

KENAZ Well if she was just going around the trailer park it wouldn’t take long.

BLAKE No, please, sit down. We’ll, we’ll make it a surprise for her! So stay here and I’ll go… Just stay here. (He rushes out the door.)

KENAZ …Okay. You got it. (He goes to the MANNY’s bulldogging contraption. He stands over it. Then he picks it up. His brow creases.) The longer I look at this the less I know what I’m lookin’ at. (LACY enters. The two of them look at one another. Pause. KENAZ drops the practice steer and goes to her, but she avoids the hug.)

LACY Hunter. What are you doing here?

KENAZ I have returned to my homeland.

LACY They didn’t… You’re… Did they release you?

KENAZ No. No, Lacy, they did not release me. But He did. The eternal He. I surrendered my soul to Him and, Bezrat Hashem, I was guided to freedom. I am as Yona, who repented in the sea beast’s belly, and was vomited by the fish.

MANNY (OffStage) Let go of me, Blake! I’m gonna kill that fucker!

BLAKE (O.S.) No no no, wait!

LACY So you found Jesus in prison? KENAZ Ohh, Lacy. Far from it. Yeshua was a great philosopher, yes, but not Mesheach.

LACY I don’t know anything you’re saying.

KENAZ Well let me explain it to you.

MANNY (Storms inside) ¡Ay, puto! Are you Hunter?

KENAZ No.

LACY Manny, wait.

MANNY Then who the fuck are you?

KENAZ Who the fuck are you?

MANNY I’m Manny.

KENAZ And just who are you, Manny?

MANNY Wh-- What, like existentially?

LACY Hunter, I think it might be best-

MANNY So you are Hunter! Well fuckin’ news for you, there’s a new sheriff in town, and his name is me.

KENAZ Lacy-- You haven’t been-... Have you?

LACY Hunter.

KENAZ Oh my God. While I suffered and yearned…

LACY Let me just lay this out.

KENAZ You don’t need to lay nothin’ out. I get it. I fuckin’ get it. You… You Delilah. I knew it too. I fucking knew it.

LACY You weren’t due out for another five years! I told you when you went in, I’m not waiting seven years at my fucking window.

(BLAKE enters, hanging up his phone.)

KENAZ Aw Jesus Christ.

MANNY You gonna unclench those fists, or are you gonna use ‘em?

LACY Blake, you should go.

KENAZ Nah nah nah, no one’s fucking leaving here.

MANNY You’re wrong about that, son. You’re leaving, soon as I boot you out that door.

KENAZ Stay the fuck back! (He pulls the knife from his boot.) Yeah, all right. Get away from the door. Everyone, get over there. LACY Hunter what are you doing?

KENAZ Stop calling me Hunter!

BLAKE That’s not his name anymore.

KENAZ That’s not my name!

BLAKE His name is Kenaz now.

KENAZ My name is Kenaz!

LACY You fucking broke out of prison and you come to my trailer to hide out. You want to make me a felon too?

KENAZ You’ll only be a felon if I get caught.

LACY Bullshit, I won’t be a felon if I don’t hide you either.

KENAZ Lacy… I’m your boyfriend!

MANNY No you ain’t.

LACY Manny.

MANNY Don’t “Manny” me, Lace. I want you to choose, right now, me or him.

LACY Let me handle this.

MANNY This psycho who hasn’t been here for you, for years, who’s holding a knife at us, or me?

KENAZ Yeah I’d like to hear that too.

LACY Hunter, listen-

KENAZ Fuck you! Don’t call me that!

MANNY Don’t tell her to fuck you, you fuck you!

LACY Manny-

KENAZ You slut.

LACY Hunter-

MANNY Lacy you need to choose, or I’m bailing on all a’ y’all.

LACY Me! That’s my choice! That’s what I’m always gonna choose! I’m the only one who’s always here. At the end of the day, when the prison’s in Pendleton, and the rodeo’s in Pocatello, or some other wherever the hell else that ain’t Redmond, Lacy Bartels is the only one looking after Lacy Bartels.

KENAZ Everyone take your phones out, throw ‘em on the floor.

LACY No one’s gonna call the cops anyway.

KENAZ Come on now, empty ‘em. (They do.)

BLAKE Don’t worry, I already called Ben. He’s on his way.

LACY Hey, all right. We don’t call 911 but we do call family.

KENAZ Then I’ll gut him too when he gets here. Just gotta figure which one of you motherfuckers is first.

MANNY Why don’t you try to start with me? Come on, I dare you.

KENAZ The slut fucker himself, why not?

LACY I’m about to-

KENAZ Shut the fuck up! (He strikes at her with the knife, missing, and catches her with the side of his fist on the comeback. A fight ensues, in which MANNY should use his bulldogging contraption as a weapon and BLAKE uses his skateboard. But ultimately, consistently, KENAZ kicks ass. At the end of it, LACY’s on the ground, BLAKE’s been flung, and KENAZ holds a knife to MANNY’s throat from behind.) God damn it! You see what you made me do? You see what you made me do, you selfish bitch?

BLAKE Hey, hey, Kenaz, let’s just calm down.

KENAZ You two stay the fuck away. Don’t make me spill the beans.

MANNY Puta muy pinche--

KENAZ What was that?!

MANNY (A grunt of a whisper as KENAZ pulls the blade tighter.) Ay, chingada…

LACY Okay… Okay, please put the knife down.

KENAZ This son of a bitch has no respect for my woman! Why should I have any respect for him?

BLAKE Kenaz, please-

KENAZ Shut up Blake!

LACY Just calm yourself-

KENAZ You go to hell! You cheating whore, you go to hell! This is all your fault, so you just go to hell!

(BEN BARTELS enters. 21, the definition of built like a brick shithouse. He wears work boots and a Ford t-shirt tucked into his Wranglers with a massive belt buckle. Everyone stops and looks at him.)

BEN Now how am I supposed to fuck this heifer?

KENAZ Stay the fuck over there, Ben.

BEN If you want me to stay over here the first thing you gotta do is put the knife down. The second is you gotta quit cussing at me. The third is you gotta walk your ass over here ‘cause it’s getting beat one way or another and I don’t care what side of the trailer I beat it on. How you doing Lacy?

LACY I’m okay.

BEN My sister’s okay. That’s good news for you, now I might not break both your legs. How you holding up, Manny?

KENAZ Oh I’m gonna cut this beaner’s throat.

BEN With a knife like that you couldn’t cut baling string. Not a day out of prison and you’re so scared of working for a living you want to head back.

KENAZ Keep talking, Ben. You’re next on my list.

BEN Next? Why aren’t I first? I guess you have been in prison awhile if you figure giving a reach around is a fight. Why don’t you quit hiding behind Manny? Come get a taste.

KENAZ I’m not hiding nothing.

BEN Everyone knows that if it wasn’t for the assgrabbing you’re giving my friend Manuel right now I’d be giving you your own jawbone for a hat.

KENAZ You want me to cut his throat.

MANNY Chingaaa-

BEN Quiet, Manny! This is between myself and Hunter.

KENAZ My name isn’t fucking Hunter anymore! I’m Kenaz! I’m Kenaz!

BEN Oh shit, so you go to prison and join the Nation of Islam.

KENAZ It ain’t Arabic! It’s Hebrew.

BEN Hebrew? You’re Semitic now?

KENAZ When you convert to Judaism you’re considered to have always been Jewish.

BEN I know you, and you ain’t Jewish. If I cut a duct opening into a concrete wall it does not stand to reason that that concrete wall has always had that duct opening. So you can’t pretend to be tough anymore, they must have found you out. Now you have to pretend to be Jewish?

KENAZ I’m not pretending! I’m not!

BEN Man, back in the day folks used to be scared of dudes who rode motorcycles. But you’ve all done so much meth and heroin that you got so damn skinny I could pick any of you up and slam the guts out of you just like field dressing a snowshoe hare. You can’t tell if someone’s in a biker gang or just got out of Auschwitz.

KENAZ Don’t joke about HaShoah! BEN I don’t think I’m joking about it because I don’t know what that means. You gotta quit pretending with this fake Jew stuff, I can’t keep up.

KENAZ It’s not fake! And I’m not pretending! I’m not! (Shoves MANNY to the side) Come on, motherfucker! Come on!

BEN Come on? Your face, is that what you want? (KENAZ charges BEN, who smacks him upside the head. With the single hit, KENAZ sprawls across the floor. Everyone is silent for a moment.)

BLAKE Yeah Ben!

BEN I did not think that would work at all. (MANNY scrambles over to KENAZ and starts pummeling him.)

LACY You’ve always been a good bluff, Ben.

BEN Yeah, well.

LACY Manny.

BEN Come on, Manny, get off the poor boy. (He takes MANNY by the back of the neck and guides him off KENAZ. Calm and gentle, yet forceful. KENAZ lies sputtering on the floor.) What do we wanna do with him?

LACY Dump him off at the cop shop.

BEN Wanna file a report? LACY I don’t want to talk to police any more than I have to.

MANNY Well I’m filing a goddamn report. I don’t care about you guys’s “Don’t call 911” whatever.

BEN You wanna take him in then?

MANNY Yeah, I’ll take him in. I’ll file the report. I’m suing this pinche culero. Get ready to pay for my new horse! Fuckin’ moto puto bitch... (He picks KENAZ up, wrenches his arm behind his back, and the two exit, MANNY muttering. The three siblings look at one another. BLAKE sighs, BEN cracks a grin, LACY shakes her head. All react in their own different ways that are somehow the same.)

LACY I better go ahead and go with ‘em. Don’t want them to kill each other between here and there. Thank you, Ben.

BEN Hey what’s family for? They’ll want your story too. If Manny’s filing, we’ve got some court appearances ahead.

LACY ...Yeah. Yeah, that’s fine. Fucking cops anyway. (Before she exits, she turns back in.) And good work again, Blake.

BLAKE What?

LACY On graduating! Good work, dummy. I’m serious about those grad announcements, bud.

BLAKE Oh, I know.

LACY And I'm serious about the mill.

BLAKE I know that too.

LACY Watch yourself, kid. (She exits.)

BEN (Produces a pack of cigarettes.) Graduating, huh? (He begins trying to light his cigarette, but the lighter’s all out of juice.)

BLAKE Yeah, man.

BEN Ain’t that some shit. Good for you, kid. So what’s next?

BLAKE Ah, I don’t know. I’m gonna try to get some skate sponsorships.

BEN Hm.

BLAKE Maybe. I mean, I don’t know.

BEN (Pushes down the toaster.) Well if that’s what you wanna do, go for it. I mean I don’t really get it my own self, but don’t let that stop ya.

BLAKE Yeah, that’s what I’m thinking.

BEN Cool. You know I almost graduated. Got a lot closer to it than Lacy.

BLAKE Yeah I know.

BEN I just remember when I was your age, everyone had all sorts of advice for me. Especially senior year. That’s all senior year is, man, that’s all you get. Getting told what to do. It’s like, everytime someone comes through a door “Hey, this is what you have to do.” Then someone else comes in. “Go to college.” “Go to work.” “Do it this way.” I figured, fuck it. (He sticks his face down into the toaster and lights the cigarette through the slot. He straightens up and unplugs it.)

BLAKE Yeah, for sure.

BEN ‘Cause the truth is no one’s got it figured out. The whole world’s a big bluff, kid.

BLAKE That’s reassuring.

BEN Don’t be sarcastic at me. You have dinner yet?

BLAKE Nah.

BEN Well I’ll tell ya what. That standoff got me hotter than a Branch Davidian. I’m gonna run on down to Sno Cap, cool off with a milkshake. I’ll buy ya dinner.

BLAKE Mom always taught me better than to turn down a free meal.

BEN There ya go. I’m gonna go give Haley a jingle, let her know everything’s fine. She was real worried when I stormed out. Wives, you know?

BLAKE Word.

BEN exits. BLAKE looks after him. He goes to the bulldogging contraption. He gets on his skateboard, ollies over the contraption then kickflips offstage.