#and we together can try and sift through what we know and work on a solution

[bisexualiteaa]

Make-Up Sex

Cooper Howard x Fem Reader (SMUT!!)

CW: NSFW MDNI!! Rough sex, riding, Cooper getting tied up, p in v, p0rn w/o plot, irradiated cream pie x2, mention of needles, cursing, established relationship, slight OOC Cooper, slight deviance from show

AN: I’m really enjoying writing for asks! Thank you to those who have submitted any, my ask box is always open so feel free to send in more! I will do my best to get to them as I can, and to the Anon who asked for this one, I hope I did your ask justice! Enjoy our favorite cowboy getting tied up and railed. Save a horse, ride a cowboy y’all. 🤠 apologies if it seems rushed, I wrote it at like 2am and post this on my way to work 😭

Synopsis: Cooper Howard is one stubborn man, and after a while of getting on your nerves, you finally find a way to make him apologize.

He had been getting on your nerves all day. First instance was when you two were out scavenging after finishing a bounty hunt, your supplies were running a bit low after being out for three whole days longer than you’d anticipated. You were getting ready to shoot one of the bandits that managed to get a stray bullet to graze your cheek when he killed them before you could even get a chance. You evil eyed him as he said “ain’t fun havin’ your kills stolen from ya, is it sweetheart?” He asked, making you roll your eyes and give a groan as you sifted through the raider’s pockets for anything useful. No such luck. A whole three bottle caps, and a plastic fork. So you drug your feet as you both carried on towards home.

Second instance was when you both were surprised by some radroaches and radscorpions after opening the door to what looked to be a vacant rest stop to get supplies from. A few wasted bits of ammo later, you make it inside and he made fun of your screams for a whole two hours. “Ain’t afraid of raiders, needles, nothin’ but bugs” he would say as he’d laugh so hard he’d go into a coughing fit while your face burned bright red with anger and embarrassment as he’d use his inhaler.

The third instance was where you drew the line. He was sifting through his bag trying to find his canteen of water after not finding shit at the rest stop. “Motherfucker” he said to himself, upon not being able to find it or anything really to have to drink. So instead of asking, he just went into your bag when you were busy trying to scavenge more bodies, took yours and drank it dry without telling you, and you had at least three more hours on foot until you made it back to the settlement. So when you went to go get a drink of water, the horror and plain rage on your face when you felt that it was empty was immeasurable. “How in the fuck is this thing empty? I JUST filled it yesterday!” You said, turning to look at Cooper as you both walked and the look on his face was all you needed as an answer. “You drank all o’ my water? What ‘n the hell happened to your canteen?” You asked, your southern drawl becoming more evident the angrier you got. “Must’ve forgot it” he said, making you look at him like he just spoke a whole different language. “You forgot it?” you asked, wondering how in the hell the deadliest motherfucker in this wasteland was traveling with you and just forgot his water. “Oh you gotta be shittin’ me….You know what, I don’t even wanna know how you managed that. We’re almost back to the settlement, I’ll refill it when we get there” you said angrily, moving ahead of him a little to prove that he’d pulled the last straw on your patience.

When you made it back to your settlement and back to the place you called home, you organized all the supplies you’d gotten, (which wasn’t much) putting them where they all were supposed to go, refilling canteens of water, and changing into more comfortable clothes as night began to fall. It was around dinner time that Cooper finally noticed that he really managed to piss you off.

You’d hardly ever given Cooper the cold shoulder in the time you two had been together, he was married before so he wasn’t ignorant to what being given the cold shoulder meant, but Cooper Howard was a stubborn man, one set in his ways so when he feels there’s no need to do something, he will not do it. “You gonna sit here ‘n ignore me all night?” He asked, and all you did was cross your arms in response, making him shake his head. “I’ll take that as a yes, but we’ll see how long that lasts, ya always come around somehow” he said arrogantly, only adding fuel to the fire and he knew it, it’s just how he was. He was an asshole, he was when you met him and apparently that charm never fully left. He was partly right however which is what you didn’t want to give him credit for. Even when you were really mad at him, you always came around at some point. His mouth got him into a lot of trouble, but it also managed to get him out of it too, his charisma and smooth talking always landing with some kisses to open you back up or make up sex to help you forget. You never were the kind of girl to let good dick sway you out of being mad but it was attached to a man that cared about you in ways no one else ever did, so you supposed he was at least a good exception. “You’ll come ‘round when that ache sets in, when you realize your dainty lil’ fingers can’t do anything close to what mine do to you” he said by your ear as he stood up from the dining room table, working you up and trying to get you to sleep with him to forget about your anger, but just as he was stubborn, you were just as set in your ways too. Though he knew it was a tough decision for you, you’d both gone a whole two weeks out there in the wastelands collecting caps from bounties and scavenging for supplies without any time or a means to sneak away and be with one another, so you were both pent up and he knew it. It was half the reason for your attitude to begin with, although you supposed he likely knew that too.

You got up from the chair in the kitchen a few minutes after he moved to the bedroom, getting ready for bed. You stopped him as he’d just taken his boots off, finally ready to be on speaking terms again but they were your terms. “Here’s how this is gon’ work. You, are gonna lay on that bed, and let me fuck you like I hate you because right now, I am doing everythin’ in my power not to hate you, and you ain’t been makin’ that an easy feat” you said, your eyes looking straight into his as if you were staring right into his soul, if he still even had one. “Yeah? And what makes you think I’m just gonna let you get away with that, lil’ lady?” He asked in a condescending tone, making you chuckle. “Because I know damn well you’re as pent up as I am, so if you want any, and wanna get back into my good graces, this is how it’s gonna happen. And I will accept that as an apology for the shit you’ve done” you replied as you stepped closer, not caring that you had to look up at him when you spoke, the venom in your words was enough to prove the point you were trying to make. Your response making him huff a short, dry chuckle, impressed by how well you stood your ground, so he awaited your orders. “Now take your damn clothes off” you said, making him grin as he did as he was told, he could get used to you bossing him around like this. Your accent got a little thicker when you were mad, and the way you barked orders and told him what to do with a quip ready for whatever he had to say in response, he had to admit was a side of you he liked seeing more than he’d ever admit to. He shook his duster from his shoulders, then worked at his shirt as you pulled yours off and over your head, then moved to unclasp your bra and dispose of it on the floor, not caring where it went. Your eyes raked each other’s frame with almost visible tension as you stood a few feet apart from each other. Enough space to keep him from using his hands to get you to submit, but enough to also allow you to close the gap when you felt comfortable enough to. You both worked at undoing your pants, tossing them aside to be forgotten about until morning. “Get on the bed” you ordered, leaving the room to grab his rope from his saddlebag in the kitchen. When you returned, he noticed the item in your hands, giving you a wicked grin. “Gonna tie me up, sweetheart?” He asked in that condescending tone, making you chuckle as you tied his hands to the rungs of the bed frame nice and tight. Tight enough to keep him in place, not too tight to hurt too much, he was an asshole sure but he was still your asshole. “Sure am. Gonna need to earn the right back t’ touch me, and you ain’t earned it yet” you replied, straddling his lap as you ground your slick pussy against his cock. He gave a groan at the feel of you, watching as your hips moved against his to coat him in slick for when you’d line him up to your entrance. Key word there was when because you wanted to make this torturous. You moaned as you bucked your hips against him, his head bumping your clit as you used him for your own pleasure. “Think I could use you just like this. Mmm…make myself cum then leave you here achin’ for more” you threatened, running your hands along your figure and toying with your breast to tease him extra, hearing groans leave him each time your pussy would glide along his cock. “Now that ain’t very nice of you” he replied, making you grin. “Never said nothin’ ‘bout playin’ nice sugar. Still waitin’ for you to say you’re sorry” you responded, making him grunt as you continued to play with yourself and moan all sweetly. “I ain’t apologizin’, no need to” he said, making you click your tongue. “A shame, looks like you ain’t cummin’ tonight then” you said, continuing your movements as you got closer and closer to letting that knot snap inside you. He wanted- no he *needed* to feel your gummy walls wrapped around his cock, so the fact that you were using it in a way that couldn’t afford him that, was already working his nerves.

“What’s wrong? Don’t like what I’m givin’ you? Should be thankful I’m even touchin’ you with how mad you made me” you said, going a little quicker now with your movements so he tried focusing on that, focusing on the way your clit would bump that spot right under his tip over and over. So when you came from grinding against it rather than seating on it and *ruined*that chance of still getting to finish, he gave a disgruntled grunt.

“Aww what’s the matter? Did I stop somethin’?” You asked in a deeper, condescending tone that had his dick throbbing in need. He’d never seen this evil of a side of you before, but you had only just started. “Whatchya want Cooper? Go ‘head, tell me” you said, making him grunt. “Want you t’ shut up and ride me already” he said, making you chuckle before landing a harsh slap across his face, the sound of your hand meeting his cheek rang through the room. “You ain’t in the position to be givin’ orders sugar. I thought you had manners” you said as he turned and looked back at you, astonished one by the power behind that smack and two, by the tone you were getting with him. “I’ll ask you one more time, what’dya want me to do to you, hmm?” You asked, and knowing now what power you had behind just one of those smaller hands of yours, he relented. “Ride me, please” he grunted, making you smile and lay a soft kiss to his cheek to try and soothe where you slapped him. “See? Not so bad now is it? Now if ya just apologize, I’ll take some RadAway and let you cum” you said, and judging by the look on his face, you could say that wasn’t going to happen. “Fuck you” he spat, making you chuckle. “Oh I am gonna fuck you, don’t you worry” you said as you lined him up to your entrance, sinking down on him inch by torturous inch. You were having way too much fun with this, and he didn’t like that he couldn’t have his way for a change. His hips involuntarily bucked up to try and shove more of himself into your tight cunt, but you moved to where it wouldn’t happen, making him grip the bed frame where he was tied to. “Someone’s gettin’ antsy, best keep them hips steady if you want this to continue” you said, making him growl under his breath before giving a groan once you were fully seated on him. You gave a moan as his tip nudged the apex to your cervix, moving your hips back and forth to where you would get off, but not do much for him. He gave you an angry look that made you laugh. “What’s the matter honey? Ya asked me to ride you already, it’s what I’m doin’” you said, making him grit his teeth as he did his best to hold his bearings. “But I guess you were good and didn’t move after I warned you so I’ll throw a bone atchya” you said, moving up and down on him, earning a groan from him once more that mingled with the moans falling from your lips. “Fuck…” he breathed, making you chuckle and smirk in that bratty way that he wanted to fuck off your face already, but he couldn’t. Despite his expressions and reactions, he was enjoying this too much but he couldn’t let you know that.

“Mmm, Cooper…” you moaned sweetly as you bounced on his cock, his name sounded heavenly when it fell from your lips, he could hardly get enough of it. He watched as your tits bounced up and down with your movements, the way your thighs jiggled as you moved, god how he wanted to grip them so bad right now. To hold you down and buck up into you until your eyes were rolling back in your head and you were screaming, but this was your show to run. You picked up the pace a little bit, going faster and angling where his tip would brush against that sweet bundle of nerves deep inside. He felt the way your walls started to close around him, sucking him in each time you’d come down, and fluttering around him. You were close. You were so caught up in chasing that feeling that you almost missed what he said. “Fuck- ‘m sorry” he spoke softly, finally apologizing to you. “What was that? I don’t think I quite heard ya there” you said, making him grunt. He should have known that you would milk the shit out of this. “I said I was- fuck- sorry” he repeated, making you hum but it wasn’t enough, not yet. So you stopped. “Sorry for what?” You asked, and he didn’t seem very happy at the fact that you stopped moving all together when he was so close to cumming yet again. “Dammit, wadn’t sayin’ sorry enough? I fuckin’ apologized like you wanted” he snapped, making you slap him across his cheek once more, this one stinging a bit more because it landed in the exact same spot as the last one. Though the tingling sensation of pain never lasted very long, it was enough to make his dick throb while inside of you and he prayed you wouldn’t notice. “Lose the attitude before I hop off and take care of myself then leave you tied up here all night” you said, making him huff in response. “Fine” he replied gruffly through gritted teeth. “Good, now I wanna hear you say it. What are you sorry for?” You asked as you started your pace back up, making him groan again as your hips and ass slapped down against him harshly. “Sorry f’ bein’ an asshole” he grunted out. “And?” You asked, needing just a little bit more before you were satisfied. “And f’ makin’ you mad” he finished, and you were content with that. “Happy?” He asked, making you hum and pretend to contemplate if you were for a minute before finally answering. “Yeah, I’ll take that” you said, placing your hands on his chest as you bounced up and down on him once more, earning a relieved sigh from him. “Just like that sweetheart, fuck…” he groaned before you leaned down, pulling him into the first kiss you’ve shared in a day and a half. You moaned into it as you started to near your peak, finally able to chase it after all the time spent putting it off to deal with his attitude. “Gonna cum- Cooper…!” you moaned into the crook of his neck and that was his undoing. You hid your face into his neck as your walls squeezed him tight, your orgasm washing over you like a tidal wave. Your legs shook as his hips bucked up into you, trying to work the both of you through your high as he pumped you full.

What he wasn’t expecting was you to keep moving, earning an almost pained groan from him as you ground yourself against him. “I never gave you permission to cum inside me” you stated, apparently he wasn’t out of the dog house just yet. He was plotting how he would get you back for this on another day, how he’d wreck you and make you remember just who it is you’re doing this to. You smirked as you had the wonderful idea of giving him a taste of his own medicine. “Perk about it bein’ a minute? I can go all night” you teased as you set that steady pace once more, needing more, needing to feel him after being so long without. His hands gripped the bed posts, white knuckled as he hissed through his teeth from the overstimulation. “You are one evil woman, ya know that?” He asked playfully, making you chuckle. “Don’t act like you don’t fuckin’ love it” you replied, and he certainly couldn’t argue with you there, not when it felt this good. “You can give me one more, can’t you sweetie?” You asked in a sickly sweet tone, using the same line he’d always use on you anytime he’d overstimulate the hell out of you just to see the faces you make and hear your moans. He recognized that line, making him grunt and groan as you moved your hips. “Fuck…” was all he could get out, mind foggy of any thoughts, just how good your walls felt as they massaged his dick. Maybe he should piss you off more often. “Look at those pretty faces, you like this, don’t you?” you asked, making him damn near whimper at your tone and he never does that shit. You gave an evil laugh at the pathetic sound. “Oh you sweet thing, I’m gonna fuckin’ ruin you” you said, leaning down and biting into his shoulder as you picked up the pace a little bit, earning a lewd groan from him. You laved your tongue over the spot, watching it heal instantly before sitting back up, fully seating yourself on him. You reached behind you to cup and fondle his balls, moving your hips back and forth to grind your clit against him to both work you to your end. “C’mon baby, give it to me. I can tell you’re almost there” you said, making him tilt his head back at all the feelings you were giving him, it was too much yet not enough all at once and it was torture. Your free hand came to his cheeks, pulling his head down to face you. “Eyes on me” you ordered, and his eyes looked into yours for a moment before flitting down to where your bodies were connected, giving a groan when he’d see himself disappear and reappear slightly and the way his cum was sticking to your thighs and his lower stomach. “Cooper…” you moaned softly once more, that was almost always your sign, the way you’d sigh his name so deliciously paired with your walls milking him for everything he could give you drove him mad. “Cum with me honey” you pleaded, and felt as his hips bucked up into you three or four times before you both were sent over the edge once more, a cacophony of moans slipping from both of you as he spilled inside of you and you came on his cock.

After laying there for a few minutes, enjoying the peaceful after glow of your orgasms, you sat up, accidentally seating yourself fully on his dick again and he gave a pained groan. “Not again…” he whined, making you laugh as your hands came to the rope binding his wrists. “Relax, I’m just undoin’ ya. I’m mean, but not that mean” you said through giggles. “You okay though? I know I was really rough but I didn’t go too far…did I?” You asked skiddishly, a complete 180 of the attitude you had just moments ago and it made him laugh. “Wasn’t expectin’ it outta you sweetheart but I’d be a damn liar if I said I didn’t like it. I’m alright, you did good” he assured, making you relieved as you laid on top of him, littering his lips, cheeks, neck, shoulder, and chest with kisses as his hands rested on your back and hips. “I love you Coop. Even when ya piss me off, you’re still the only person in this god forsaken wasteland I could ever see myself with” you spoke, making him chuckle. “I love you too, sweetheart. ‘m sorry for makin’ you upset, wasn’t right. But I’d say you did a damn good job of puttin’ me in my place” he said, making you giggle. “No hard feelings?” You asked, looking at him with eyes that held so much worry for one person, eyes that held so much care. His hand came to the back of your head, pulling you into a loving kiss. “Never” he said into it, pressing his forehead against yours after you both parted for air. You gave a contented hum, happy for things to be all right again. “Remind me to piss you off more often, you got a good swing on ya” he said, breaking the peaceful silence with a grin, making you laugh. “Please don’t, I like moments like this so much more. I hate bein’ mad at you, love you too much” you replied, making him kiss the top of your head, wondering what he ever did to deserve someone like you.

“C’mon, let’s get ya cleaned up and get some RadAway in ya, don’t wanna ruin that perfect skin just yet” he said, making you giggle once more but it was cut off by a hiss as he moved you off from his softened dick, grabbing a wet rag and cleaning you both up as he got the IV started. He kissed your head once more, holding your hand like he always did as you got the needle in, got it all hooked up and a good flow going, coming back to sling his arm around you and hold you to him. Between the warmth of his body and the comfort of the bed, you couldn’t help but let your eyes flutter shut, a soft smile resting on your lips as you fell asleep peacefully against him. You always felt safe when you were with him, no matter where you were, and he’d always protect you no matter what. And that, is what love in post apocalypse looked like, he swore it.

#fallout smut #fallout #fallout x reader #cooper howard smut #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard #the ghoul smut #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul

[jobean12-blog]

Color Me Yours

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader (Mob!Bucky)

Word Count: 984

Summary: Whether or not he's busy with his work he always has time for you and whatever you want.

Author's Note: I had written a story about coloring with Joel and I just love the idea of doing something so simple with our fave guys and then I thought Mob!Bucky would be so fun to color with. This is just a snapshot of a soft and fun domestic moment where our usual no bullshit boss is really and truly himself with his most favorite human ever- his wife. I also mention a scene in the movie Ghost from 1990 and I referenced this scene. Thank you so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰

Warnings: It's fun and fluffy and sweet and silly and ends with a bit of spice bc I can't help myself, established relationship, coloring bc yay!

“There you are doll face.”

You walk into his office with a smile, your hands kept neatly hidden behind your back.

“What are you hiding?” he asks as he leans back in his leather chair, legs spread wide and smirk pulling at his lips.

“A book.”

You stop just in front of his large mahogany desk. You’re wearing nothing but a tank top and panties and your skin warms as his eyes sweep over you appreciatively.

“What are you reading now?”

“Not that kind of book.”

He raises a questioning brow.

“It’s a coloring book.”

With an easy push he swivels his chair to the side and pats his thigh invitingly.

“Come ‘ere doll. Let me see.”

You come around the desk and perch yourself on the thick muscle, watching his reaction as you reveal your coloring book and colored pencils.

He takes it from your hands and starts to flip through it, smiling the whole time.

“These are beautiful,” he says.

“Thank you.”

He carefully places your things on his desk and wraps you in his arms. You rest your head along his shoulder and slip your fingers into the open buttons of his collared shirt.

“If you’re not too busy now, will you color with me?”

Your head tilts up to meet his eyes and you find him gazing down at you softly.

“I’m never too busy for you doll face. You know that.”

He sits up and pulls the chair toward the desk, caging you in with his arms around your waist and his chest pressed to your back.

“The only rule is you have to stay in my lap while we do it.”

He whispers the words against your neck, gently kissing the spot before he pushes the strap of your tank top off your shoulder and continues pressing his lips along your skin.

“One more rule…you can’t distract me until we’ve done some coloring,” you breathe out. “You’re very distracting.”

“Fine. I’ll behave doll…for now.”

You turn your head and chase his lips, sliding your hand into his hair and gently scraping your nails along his scalp.

“Tease,” he growls playfully against your mouth.

With a coy smile you peck his lips one last time then ask, “did you see any particular picture that you want to color?”

“You pick,” he answers, keeping his face nestled in your neck.

“Let’s color this one.”

You point to a page and then start sifting through your colored pencils. He waits for you to pick one then does the same, deciding on a cerulean blue.

“Almost as pretty as your eyes,” you purr.

He kisses your cheek and let’s his nose run along the column of your throat, whispering his thanks.

“This is relaxing,” he murmurs.

“I agree. I was going to try painting next...”

“I’ll build you a space for you to do your art. Any kind you want.”

“Can we get a pottery wheel?”

“Of course,” he answers.

You turn to look at him, smiling brightly when you exclaim, “then we can make something together like Molly and Sam in Ghost!”

With a squeal you go back to coloring, unaware of Bucky’s confused expression.

“Molly and Sam?” he asks.

“YOU HAVEN’T SEEN GHOST?” you nearly shout, turning in his arms again. “We are watching it tonight.”

“Is it a scary movie…about a ghost?”

His question makes you roll your eyes and you poke him with a colored pencil.

“NO Buck. It’s a love story and they totally have sex after he distracts her while she’s making her pottery…”

“What are you implying doll?”

“Oh nothing,” you sing song. “I’m sure you’ll love the movie.”

 “I’m sure I will too.”

“You better…it’s so good.”

He lightly nibbles on your neck in response, causing you to squeal again.

“Nibbles laterrrrrrrr,” you half whine half giggle.

He relents but only after more soft kisses to any part of your bare skin he can reach.

As you go to choose a new color you pause to watch him, noting how his movements are precise and he stays within the lines, coloring each part of the picture with consistency.

“You’re really good at this,” you muse. “Have you been secretly coloring without me?”

He chuckles.

“Nah doll face, but you know I love to pay attention to every little detail.”

“Oh, that’s an understatement,” you giggle.

“Are you making fun of me?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” you say cheekily.

He nuzzles your neck, knowing his scruffy jaw tickles your skin and it makes you wiggle and squirm in his hold.

“Buckyyyyy,” you gasp.

He finally stops to let you breathe, securing you in his lap again and pressing a sweet kiss to your cheek.

His right hand holds the colored pencil and his left rests on your hip and as time continues to pass in comfortable silence his fingers begin to trace circles on your skin, slow and light.

“Done already?” you purr.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about doll.”

His tone is incredulous even as his hand dips lower and teases between your legs.

You try to stay focused on coloring the picture but his touch is far too distracting and you drop the pencil with a sigh and lean back.

“What about my coloring?” you whisper as your hands slide down and grip his thighs.

He pushes your legs apart and slides his finger over your silky panties.

“This is all your fault,” he murmurs. “You came in here wearing almost nothing…”

“My fault?” you breathe out. “This is why I can never get anything done…you and your hands…distracting!”

“You love it.”

“I do,” you gasp, rocking in his lap. “But you aren’t getting out of coloring…or the movie.”

He takes your earlobe between his teeth with a gentle tug, drawing soft little moans from your parted lips.

“Wouldn’t dream of it baby doll. You know I’ll do anything you want.”

@hiddles-rose @randomfandompenguin @goldylions @kmc1989 @littleseasiren @lizette50 @blackwidownat2814 @buckysdollforlife

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #mob!bucky #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #mob!Bucky barnes #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes imagine #mob!bucky x reader #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader

[medicinemane]

Sometimes you see a post that just is full of infuriatingly stupid opinions, but it also doesn't really matter and certainly nothing will be accomplished arguing with people you can tell aren't going to listen

It's still very annoying because they're wrong, and I'm correct opinion is clearly commonly held, but once again it both is low stakes and also pointless to try and explain

This by the way is why I avoid discourse. I don't mind talking with someone I disagree with, but I'm not willing to talk to someone who is going to be a brick wall. I don't need everyone to agree with me, but I need the possibility of give and take and constructive conversation

Basically I'm just too choosy with my battles to be willing to argue with people on the internet

#a big part of it is i don't have any interest in debate i only like discussions #i like discussing things with people i disagree with where we can both bring up points about a subject #and we together can try and sift through what we know and work on a solution #i like the input from people who think differently because they might see things i don't and i might learn something #but dealing with someone just trying to keep insisting their idea outs correct with no willingness to even make sure we're on the same page #that's just frustrating and I'll just back out of pretty much any argument with a fine you're right whatever #because it's not worth it to me to try and convince someone who is being a mule #it's also part of why i don't discuss things with people who insult me #it's not worth it talking with people acting in bad faith #i don't have all the answers and i can be wrong about plenty but i also happen to have reasons for most things i think #and i can explain the reasons for most of them if people take the time to listen #and really all i ask from a discussion is that we both understand each other's position and reasoning #because if we're at that point i can assume we can have a good faith discussion #but you think you're gonna get that from most people not just on the internet but in general? #so no thank you to discourse I'll stick to talking to people i actually know when they want to discuss something

[rafeandonlyrafe]

a collection of soft moments with rafe

words: 2.4k

warnings: none?, rafe being kinda desperate... okay maybe really desperate in the last one

taglist: @drewstarkeysbae @thelomlisrafecameron @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv

“i was tryin' to fly but i couldn't find wings.” you sing along to the song, swaying slightly as you finish cleaning off the table, ears perking up when you hear the door open and close, signaling that rafe just got home, but you continued your clean, “but you came along and you changed everything.”

you feel rafe’s hands on your hips suddenly, making you jump, not realizing over the music that he had entered the room. 

“you lift my feet off the ground.” taylor’s voice continues to sing from the speakers as rafe turns you in his hold. your hands instinctively go to his shoulders, smiling up at him as rafe starts to sway along to the music. “you spin me around.”

at the lyric, rafe begins to slowly spin you around the room, looking down at you with the most genuine look of love in his eyes that you’ve ever seen.

“i love you.” you mouth to rafe, not wanting to interrupt the song with your words as he pulls you closer to him, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

"feels like i'm fallin' and i'm lost in your eyes. you make me crazier, crazier, crazier."

--

“don’t we have to leave like right now rafe?” you ask, rushing to his closet when he asked you to pick out his outfit for him. one of his favorite things to do is pick out what you’re going to wear, especially for a night out with him, and he likes to reserve the favor for you too.

“we can be late.” rafe says, still in just a pair of gray sweatpants, while you’re completely ready in a simple deep blue dress, chosen of course by your boyfriend.

you sift through his shirts, having one in mind, a blue patterned button down that would match your dress. you finally find it and pull it out, handing it to rafe to put on while you find a pair of pants that would fit the color scheme.

you watch as rafe dresses, looking to you for approval. you frown. there’s nothing particularly wrong with the outfit, but it’s just not pulling together for you.

“hold on.” you hum, knowing you should be moving faster so you can get to your event, but you honestly are enjoying playing dress up using rafe. 

“try this.” you toss him a new shirt, but again it doesn’t spark anything in you. 

“put on your black shoes, i’ve got another in mind.” you turn back to his drawer, hoping that the light blue shirt you’re thinking of is complementary to your own dress.

you find it on the bottom of the drawer, and hold it up happily to rafe. “look! it’s perfect!” you know before he even tries it on that it’ll go perfectly with what you’re wearing.

rafe pulls the shirt over his shoulders, but you stop his hands from doing the buttons as you take over for him, tongue sticking out of your mouth slightly in concentration as your fingers work on the tiny button. 

you leave the top two undone, the event not being too formal, and liking the peak of skin. “perfect.” you say, looking at the two of you standing next to each other in the mirror.

“thank you baby.” rafe says, looping his arm around your waist. “i love spending time with you.”

you feel your cheeks flare red as you blush at his words. “all i did was get you dressed.” you try to deflect his words.

“i know and i loved it.” rafe presses a kiss to the side of your head.

--

“hm.” rafe says, “can you change your shoes?” you look down at your sandals, taking them off and putting a pair of converse instead. “you know, if you just told me where we were going i would be able to pick out a better pair of shoes.” “good try, baby.” rafe smiles, taking your hand as you head out the door, to whatever surprise that rafe has planned. 

you get into the car, trying to tell where rafe is taking you by the drive, but it’s out into the country, so you ignore trying to figure out where you’re going and instead just enjoy rafes hand on your thigh and the music playing through the stereo.

“rafe!” you gasp as you see the explosion of colors on the road ahead. “you did not!” “i did.” rafe says cockily, obviously expecting your excited reaction.

“i cannot believe you actually brought me flower picking.” you lean over as rafe parks, pressing kisses to his cheek. “you’re the best boyfriend ever.” “i know.” rafe laughs, putting the car into park and turning his head to let you kiss him, lips pushing together in a display thats a bit overly passionate for the parking lot, but you’re just so happy that your usually closed off to the world boyfriend becomes a total sweetheart just for you.

“don’t you dare open your car door.” rafe says, pulling away from the kiss. you just smile as he rounds the car, opening your door and helping you out. 

you take a deep breath of the flower scented air, eyes looking over all the different rows of brightly colored flowers. 

“come on, we gotta get our jar and scissors.” rafe takes your hand in his, leading you towards the booth. there’s only a few other people picking flowers today, so there’s no line when you approach and rafe quickly pays.

“alright, baby, i already know you’re thinking about what you want.” rafe laughs, knowing he’s not really there for choosing the style of the bouquet you make, rather to be the one to cut the stems for you and hold everything.

“mmm, i’m really feeling like an orangey-red-yellow color palette.” you say, heading towards the flowers with rafe following close behind.

--

“rafe! come here!” you call out to him, and you hear his rapid footsteps as he runs into the bathroom.

“are you okay?” he asks, eyes searching for any sort of potential danger you might be in.

“i’m fine, rafey!” you say, waving your hands as if that’s going to dissuade his worry and take it all away.

rafe comes to where you’re standing in front of the mirror, pressing you into the sink as he pushes his chest into your back. “you scared me.” “sorry, baby.” you hum, picking up a packet from off the sink. “want to do a facemask with me?” “is this what you called me in here for?” rafe questions, looking at the plastic package in your hand.

“mhm. i’m doing one too, it’ll be fun.” rafe sighs, burying his head in your shoulder, pressing a kiss to your bare skin, glad that you’re only wearing a tanktop so he has more access. he considers saying no, but he just can’t deny you what you want. 

“fine, but no pictures and don’t tell anyone about this. ever.” 

you squeal in happiness, ripping open the package and directing rafe to bend down that way you can place the sheet mask on his face, choosing a brightening one for him while you’re going to go for hydrating. 

you giggle seeing your boyfriend, who plenty people consider scary, in the skincare. he glances in the mirror with a frown.

“you look super cute.” you say. “now let me put my mask on then we can sit on the bed and watch tv until it’s time to take them off.”

--

“what is all this for?” rafe questions, not expecting to come home to the counters filled with baked goods.

“oh perfect timing!” you say, heading over to rafe and giving him a quick kiss on the lips in greeting.

you place your hands on his shoulders, steering him towards the island. “sit down, i need you to taste test everything for me.” “i would be more than happy to do that baby but um-” he pauses, eyes once again moving over the multitude of cupcakes decorated in different ways, along with cookies and some pastries he doesn’t know the name of. 

“oh, right!” you giggle, placing a cupcake in front of him. “i decided to enter a baking competition.” “really?” rafe asks, peeling the wrapper off a cupcake and taking a bite, his eyebrows shooting up. “well, you’re definitely going to win, this is delicious.” “really? be honest rafe, don’t just say that because i’m your girlfriend.” rafe shakes his head, taking another bite. “no seriously babe.” you let out a little squeal in happiness, clapping your hands together as rafe chews more. “okay, but stop eating that, you’re going to get full and i have a lot more i need you to try.”

you take the plate holding the cupcake away from rafe, sliding a different pastry in front of him. rafe eats it, again complimenting you as you cycle through the different things you’ve made while he was away.

“here, this is a pumpkin puff pastry.” you give him the next dessert.

rafe happily takes a bite, but his face suddenly twists. he covers it up quickly, but not before you’re able to tell. 

“you don’t like it?” you ask, and rafes heart breaks at your big eyes looking at him, so upset.

“no, it’s really good, i just-” rafe grabs the glass of water you got him, taking a sip to wash down the treat.

“i just am not a fan of pumpkin.” rafes words don’t seem to make you feel any better, so he turns on his stool and pulls you into him, placing your body in between his legs. 

“princess, i’ve loved everything you made, you’re absolutely going to win this baking competition, gorgeous.” “you really think so?” you ask, reaching your hands up to play with the collar of rafes shirt.

“of course.” he leans forward, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “now whats next for me to try?” rafe asks, even though his stomach hurts from how much he’s eaten.

--

rafe presses another kiss to your cheek, making you look up from the book your reading. “what is it baby?” “nothing.” rafe shakes his head, but takes the now closed book out of your hands and sets it on the coffee tables. you can’t hold back a giggle as he takes your hands and brings it up to his face.

“do you want some attention?” you ask, rubbing your thumbs over his cheeks.

“mmm.” rafe just hums, closing his eyes as he finally gets what he wants. you scooch over on the couch so you’re sitting closer to him, your thighs pressing together. 

you move a hand up to play with rafes hair, making him drop his head against the couch, cheek pressing into the cushion. you lean forward and kiss the tip of his nose, admiring his blissed out face now that you’ve finally got your hands on him.

“gimme a kiss.” rafe says, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you onto his lap.

you melt into his body, enjoying the soft knitted sweater he’s wearing and the way it feels against you. 

you press your lips against rafes, letting him take the lead in the slow and easy kiss, taking pleasure in the way his lips glide over yours.

you pull away after a minute, resting your head against rafes forehead. it’s a rare moment of complete peace, where rafe is calm and relaxed. you hate to break it, but you eventually stand up, giving him another kiss on the lips.

“where are you going?” rafe asks, reaching out and tugging on your hand.

“i’m going to go take a shower.” you say, feeling gross with your oily hair, plus, you really need to shave, the prickly hairs are starting to bother you.

“okay, i’ll join you.” rafe stands up to follow you, but you place your hands on his chest with a shake of the head. 

“usually, i’d love for you to join me, but i’ve got… girly stuff to do.” you decide that it’s a good enough explanation, but of course it doesn’t dissuade rafe. 

“okay and?” he deadpans, making you roll your eyes.

“just not this time, rafe.” you start to walk away, up the stairs to your bedroom, but rafe is right on your tail.

you decide to ignore him, heading into the bathroom and beginning your shower prep, deciding to do a hair mask while you shave, getting out your razor and creme from the counter underneath the sink.

“i’ll turn the water on for us.” rafe makes a point of using the pronoun. 

“baby.” you groan, placing your products on the shower bench. “i don’t want you to just stand there and watch me shave! i love you but i need a minute alone, okay?” “fine.” rafe leaves the room quickly, swinging the door shut behind him. you sigh and rub your eyes, but turn the water on to heat up.

time passes quickly as you go through your extended shower routine, your phone playing music from it’s place on the sink counter. you finish up, feeling completely refreshed and clean. you pull the robe rafe got you around your body and head out of the bathroom.

“rafe?” you gasp, seeing him sitting on the floor next to your bed, his knees pulled up to his chest, head slumped forward.

“baby!” he picks his head up suddenly, but you can still read his emotions how upset he is.

“hey, hey, what’s wrong?” you kneel down in front of him, leaning forward to kiss his forehead. his eyes are ever so slightly red and you wonder if he’s been rubbing at them or if he’s been crying.

“i-” rafe takes a deep breath, “i hate being away from you.” “oh, honey.” you heart breaks, and you lean forward to wrap your arms around rafes shoulders, who drops his knees so you can get closer. “if i would have known it was that big of a deal, i would have let you shower with me, i just didn’t think you actually wanted to see me like shave and stuff.”

“next time you’ll let me in?” rafe asks in a soft voice that breaks your heart.

“of course.” you take his face in your hands, angling it to press a kiss to his lips. “i love you.”

the spark in rafes eye is finally back. “i love you too.”

#writing ghostface rafe so this was a refreshing break from that lol #needed to get out of him being a LITERAL SERIAL KILLER and write some cute bf rafey lol #rafe fluff #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x reader #rafe x reader #rafe fanfic #rafe fic #rafe cameron one shot #rafe cameron blurb #rafe fanfiction #rafe one shot #rafe imagine #rafe cameron x you

[stealingyourbones]

Danny Phantom meets Superman. More accurately I should say that Danny Fenton meets Clark Kent.

Let me make this clear cause people seem to forget this: superman is smart. Clark kent is a very intelligent guy. Hes an INVESTIGATIVE journalist. He works with Lois Lane whos a multiple Pultizer prize winner and you know damn well that Lois wouldn’t work with anyone that cant keep up with her in both wits and smarts. He’s good at his job and in some comics he gets Pulitzer Prizes from some of his articles as well. Dude is dumb but he’s smart if you get what I’m saying. High Int. Low Wis.

With that in mind, During an assignment by Perry White, Lois and Clark meet the Fentons in their Amnesty residence to get some quotes on an article that discusses “Everything we thought didn’t exist is now real. Superheroes, Aliens, even Vampires, so why do we not Believe in Ghosts?”

Clark Kent spots Danny and notices instantly that MANY things are wrong with this child. His shoulders are hunched in a way that is intentional and tensed. Like he doesn’t know if he should fight or flee. His eyes are darting around and constantly taking in their surroundings like he’s waiting for something to barge in. His heart is beating far slower than it should. The kid intentionally makes his chest rise and fall but he’s not breathing in any oxygen. All of those are concerning but they can happen in metas. The thing that isn’t normal is that Clark can’t hear any of Danny’s other organs working. Like the kid is a revitalized corpse and his body only thought to bring back half of its needed functions.

So Clark does some digging. He doesn’t want to tell any of the Justice League because this isn’t a Superman job, this is a job for Clark Kent. He gets some help from Oracle and with her word that she won’t say anything to batman, He agrees to update her regularly about the kids situation.

Oracle sends over some VERY concerning documents from an organization called “The Ghost Investigation Ward”. Oracle tells Clark that she’s working on tipping off the Bats and Birds so they can help dismantle the organization.

While sifting through the documents Clark comes across a profile of a “Danny Phantom”. As I said, Clark isn’t stupid. There is definitely a profile of Danny Fenton as well since he’s the son of two world renown ghost hunters. He puts the two and two together and uncovers just the horrible treatment that Phantom has been receiving from his parents, the government, and his peers. Clark is outraged and can’t just stand aside and let this kid suffer. So he makes another trip to the Fenton residence under the guise of needing another quote and sits Danny and Jazz down and tells him that he knows of the terrible lab safety, the immoral experiments his parents do on the regular, the neglect of the kids in pursuit of scientific discovery. He knows and he wants to help. Clark tells Danny and Jazz that there is an apartment available right nextdoor from his and that he can help them get to a safer location and apply for emancipation.

The Fenton kids are shocked at this guy and his immensely kind heart. Danny knows something is up though. Something is up with Clark Kent. He looks like all his life would be spent in the gym when he isn’t at work and yet Danny can’t find a thing on Clarks interest in working out. His baggy clothes somewhat cover up his muscles but his frame is far too wide to be hidden. Clarks heartbeat is slightly faster than the average persons. No human eyes could be that startlingly sky blue. And Danny knows that he has seen Clarks face somewhere but he cant put a pin on it.

The Fenton kids agree and they get brought to metropolis and the emancipation case is no problem with the evidence Clark managed to collect. The kids get the apartment next to Clarks and Clark helps them grow and get better mentally and situationally. Clark knows that in a way he’s trying to make up for his neglect on Connor but he still knows that helping these kids is the right decision.

After a month or so, Clark and the Fenton kids have a rhythm of meeting at each others apartments, getting doted over to make sure that the fentons are well fed and have everything they need and are getting settled into their new life.

Clark hasn’t told the league. Oracle keeps her promise to keep the Fentons out of Batman and the Justice League’s radar. Clark knows that he will have to tell them soon eventually. He knows that things like this wont last. He tries his best to keep these kids happy and support them how an actual caring parent should act.

A few months into the Fentons stay in Metropolis on a cool autumn afternoon, Danny is sitting on a beanbag chair reading a ratty old book that Clark lent him as Clark is typing away on his computer writing up an article for the Daily Planet when Danny looks over to Clark and says,

“I’m Phantom.”

Clark pauses typing and shoots a small smile towards danny, “I know.”

Danny nods in relieved acceptance as Clark straightens up from his hunced over position on his computer.

He pulls back his shirt collar slightly to show the blue suit and red cape. “I’m Superman.”

Danny looks at him and smiles, “I know.”

They both just sit and continue reading and writing with soft smiles on their faces. Comforted at the exchange and that it’s finally out there and eachother knew.

After a while Danny’s obsession gets to be too much. He tells Clark about it and that he has to find a way to sate his obsession of protecting and Clark accepts that it was only a matter of time and invites him to meet the League.

When Superman brings Danny to the Watchtower, saying that the rest of his fellow superheroes were shocked would be an understatement. The Man of Steel and this ghost kid are talking like a father and son.

To say that Batman was pissed that he wasn’t informed of this child is also an understatement. But there is also some amusement and respect under that frustration. Superman managed to keep this kid under wraps and didn’t even alert Batman. Superman smirking and saying under his breath to him “Looks like the World's Greatest Detective isn’t so great huh?” Makes Batman respect the man even more.

In the Watchtower, Danny meets up with Teen Titans/The Team/Whatever They’re Called Now, and meets Conner. Conner is understandably pissed and spiteful that Danny got to have Superman as a father figure.

Conner knows that Superman treating Danny this way is definitely a way of him trying to make up for the faults and breaks he had with his parental relationship with Conner. he agrees with himself that he shouldn’t hate Danny for having Superman as a Dad and the two get along like tinder and matches. Connor still has a grudge against Superman don’t get me wrong, just not as much as before.

Sometimes while the League is in battle, Superman likes to just look for Danny and watch him hold his own against world ending threats. Danny is now truly confident and it’s no longer a facade. He’s no longer hunching into himself to look smaller. He laughs more often now and seems to be genuinely happy. Superman fondly looks at his son as his kids eyes flicker with green fire as he says a shitty ice pun and freezes Metallo in his tracks with ghostly ice.

#dp x dc #prompt #writing prompt #who am I kidding this is basically an outline of a fic not a prompt #eh might as well put the tag there #Danny phantom #dc comics #Superman #Batman #I just want happy dad Clark Kent do you understand? #I want this static ass character of a man have the writers give him some character growth so I’ll do it my self the only way I know how #writing a concept for a fic crossover that would no way in hell happen in cannon #Lois Lane gets along super well with Jazz. they’re both super smart ladies and would make an unstoppable force against nature #I like to think Danny has similar unbreakable skin besides ghost weapons like Superman and Kryptonite #so imagine Clark Kent being really happy that he can finally hug someone with his full strength and not kill them #think on that one for a second

[smashing-teacups]

Atonement Chapter 44: A Sticky Situation

A/N: We havena done this in a very long time… 🥹

Happy five year anniversary to this not-so-wee tale of mine. Thank you so much to all who have come along for the journey. I appreciate you more than you know!

For better or for worse, they decided to move in straight away. 

It was in large part a financial decision. After months of working overtime, Claire had a decent sum tucked away in her checking account, but an indefinite hotel stay was a drain on their savings that they simply couldn’t justify, given the option to stay in the mill for free. As soon as that much was decided, the pair of them had locked into what Claire called triage mode, trying to sort out what they would need to purchase imminently if they were actually going to attempt to live in a half-functional construction zone. Foremost in both of their minds was the pressing issue of heat: Claire insisted that she was fine with just setting up camp near the hearth, and was busy Googling the nearest places to buy firewood in bulk. Unconvinced that the fireplace alone would be sufficient for his painfully thin and perpetually freezing wife, Jamie had pulled up the page for the local hardware store on his own mobile, sifting through the reviews on various portable space heaters that they could position strategically around the house.

After a few minutes, Claire’s musing broke the silence of their individual research. “I suppose if we don’t have a heat source then we don’t have hot water.” As he glanced up from his screen, she made an odd wee movement, squinting one eye as she shifted her hips off to one side and back again. “What are we going to do about showers?” 

Pocketing his mobile, he crossed his arms loosely over his front. “Aye, I was just thinkin’ on that myself. The plumbing’s already in, just need to finish gettin’ the boiler system up and running. Shouldna take me more’n a week or two, but”—There it was again, the microscopic spasm of Claire’s cheek, this time as her thighs clenched together—“in the meantime, I reckon we can use the showers over at the gym. It’s no’ but ten minutes down the road.”

“Sounds good,” she said mildly, though the tightness around her eyes didn’t slacken. Jamie regarded her for a long moment, frowning with the effort to pin down the source of her unease. If she wasn’t comfortable showering at the gym, he was sure one of their neighbors would be more than happy to let them use theirs…

Before the offer could even make its way to his lips, though, Claire shifted again, and something about the way she moved the third time — the subtle, swiveling twitch of her pelvis, the grit of her teeth — struck him as familiar where the other motions had eluded him. He knew all too well the squirming discomfort of having an itch in a place that couldn’t be scratched in decent company.

But that was just it: he wasn’t company, he was her husband. There wasn’t an inch of her body that he hadn’t tasted or touched; Christ, he’d been buried to the hilt inside her not half an hour ag—

… oh.

Ohhhh.

Quite abruptly, he struck recognition like a brick wall.

Keep reading...

#atonement #smashing-teacups #jamie x claire #outlander fanfic

[ghouljams]

imagine Fae!Ghost being forced by love to sit down and do art projects/scrap booking or making little friendship bracelets and he only puts up with it because it’s her and he’s doing her a favor so more hooks! I think it would be so cute! Just this big exasperated Fae man who everyone fears and actively avoids doing art projects with his love because she begged him to.

More Fae!Ghost fluff, the fuckups can be sweet too, please God(my brain) let them be sweet(stop making me horny).

You have completely exploded all over the coffee table. Sitting on the floor sifting through journaling supplies and different colored threads, various scraps of paper from your day and about a million colored markers and little charms. Simon is giving you a wide berth as he tries to find a decent angle to get to his seat on the couch.

"So what're we avoiding here?" He asks, opting to go over the back of the couch to sit down.

"Deadline," you tell him, snipping at the edges of a cream colored paper star. He hums, and reaches past you to pick up a deep red, deeply tangled, bundle of string. He tucks it back against his palm and grabs the pink bundle as well.

"Always good to avoid," You hold your hand out for him to give you your supplies back, watching him wrap the thread neatly around his fingers. "There's a match on soon."

"No footie, I'm trying to focus," Simon frowns with a displeased hum, and settles the neat bundle in your palm. You watch him wrap the next one and are struck with an absolutely brilliant idea. "You could help, it'll go faster and then I can get back to my real work," you bat your lashes at him and rest your cheek against his knee. He stares at you for a long moment before his shoulders drop and he tells you,

"Fine, what do you need?"

Simon is very good with his hands. Which you already knew, but watching him make knots and loop thread is sort of mesmerizing. It's not exactly complicated, but he picks up patterns well, twisting little daisies between his fingers as you abandon work on your own bracelet. You're not sure if he's having fun or just humoring you, but it's nice sitting with him and working on something together.

You rest your head against his knee, writing out your day between scraps of paper. The tag from your morning tea, an event ticket, a sketch of the stamp on your hand courtesy of Simon. You feel so pleasantly warm and full in a way that you haven't since you were a kid. Simon reaches past you to snag a bead and returns to his work, you grab a marker to highlight your favorite parts of the day, the room is full of the quiet sounds of your work.

Simon grabs your wrist off your journal and pulls it to rest on his leg, tying his creation to your wrist. When you're allowed your wrist back you feel your chest swell at the neat little daisy chain, "Love" spelled in letter beads and resting over your pulse. Simon's fingers thread through your hair, scratching the base of your skull lightly.

"Didn't know you could do that," Simon mumbles, and you take your eyes off the best thing he's ever given you to look up at him. You hadn't even noticed until he'd pointed it out, but you're purring.

#Love makes a matching bracelet for Simon and he never takes it off #shows it off to könig who has never been more jealous in his life #me trying to think of the most chaotic hobby to give Love: a journalling #she probably sews too because i sew and i am so messy with it #simon ghost riley #cod x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #ghost x reader #ghost mw2 #reader x ghost #fae!Ghost #i could make her a doll hobbyist #theres truly no other hobby where you talk about decapitating people and eye removal to that degree

[theoutcastrogue]

the internet is rotting, as Jonathan Zittrain noted in an important (but paywalled) 2021 Atlantic article. A huge percentage of the links on the internet are broken, and there is no single authoritative, accessible universal repository that keeps track of everything. It is frighteningly easy for crucial information to slip away. ...

The practice of making changes to an article without noting that you’ve made them is called “stealth editing,” and even the New York Times does it. ... The existence of stealth editing means that it’s difficult to trust that the version of an article you click on at any given moment is the article as it was originally published. ...

I also, to my alarm, realized just how dependent we are on private publications themselves to give us access to records of their own work. Often, they keep it payawalled behind locked gates and charge you admission if you want to have a look. There are lots of sources in the Chomsky book to which you have to subscribe if you want to verify, such as this 1999 story in the Los Angeles Times about NATO’s bombing of a bus in Yugoslavia. This is a story of national importance, far too overlooked at the time, but if you don’t subscribe to the LA Times, you need research library access or a workaround if you want to read it.

Thank God for the Internet Archive, whose Wayback Machine preserves as much of the internet as they can and is invaluable for researchers trying to figure out what was once housed at now-dead links. But the Internet Archive has its limits. Social media posts, YouTube videos, paywalled Substack posts, PDFs—all can be very difficult to track down after they disappear. If a politician tweets something embarrassing, for instance, and then deletes it, it might be preserved in a screenshot. But we know screenshots are easy to fake. So where do you turn to prove satisfactorily that something was in fact said? ...

it’s very easy to lose pieces of information that seem permanent. E-books, for instance, can be changed by their publisher without the changes even being noted. You might read a book on your Amazon Kindle one day and open it up the next day to look for a quote only to find that the quote has disappeared without a trace. The Guardian, for twenty years, hosted a copy of Osama bin Laden’s “letter to the American people,” an important historical document. After the letter went viral on TikTok, the Guardian removed it from the site entirely. The New Republic did the same after an article of theirs about Pete Buttigieg caused controversy. The documents in question can still be found, but only by digging through the Internet Archive. If that ever goes down, researchers will find that trying to piece together the online past is like trying to learn about a lost civilization from excavated fragments. ...

I think that in an age where people (rightly) don’t trust the information they’re getting to be true, it needs to be as easy as possible to do research. Instead, while we have better technology than ever for sifting through information, it’s still the case that the truth is paywalled and the lies are free. If you want to “do your own research” to check on the veracity of claims, you will run headlong into a maze of broken links, paywalls, and pop-ups. How can anyone hope to find the truth when it’s so elusive, trapped behind so many toll gates? 

#Nathan J. Robinson #theory #information wants to be free

[tearsonmarz]

Scarian Flirting and Fishing pt. 2

(I know I said I wasn’t going to be adding onto the one-shot-- but that was before Grian’s latest episode came out, so here we are. Don’t hold your breath for another part. Also, I decided that it wasn’t going to be a modern setting, but I’m also too lazy to make either of these historically accurate. I wrote these for fun, they weren’t meant to be anything too thought out. Here's part one if you haven't read it yet. I was also too tired to edit it, but I need it out of my docs because it'll consume my thought otherwise.)

“So, why do you want this book so badly?” Scar was curious since he hadn’t seen Grian before. He had never imagined what would stem from a simple encounter with the sandy haired man.

He’d been following Grian for about a month now. They’d go to nearby streams, scrounge around for the book, spend hours getting excited only to be disappointed once again.

After the first two days, Scar bought a fishing rod to help out. But Grian had insisted that he wanted to be the one to find it, nevertheless Scar fished because it bothered Grian.

“I need it for something important that I’m working on. You know you can leave whenever you want.”

“Still trying to get rid of me, don’t you get tired of it?”

“Don’t you get tired of following me?” He shot Scar a look that only caused him to burst out laughing.

“You just aren’t going to give up.”

“I should be the one saying that.”

Why was he staying this long? There was no reason for him to continue bothering Grian. It’s simply something that had integrated into his daily routine. Every day without fail they would link up, take a walk down to the river and start fishing. They’d eat together, talk together, and enjoy each other’s company. It mainly consisted of Scar ranting to his hearts content, while Grian pretended not to listen. Every now again Grian would forget and chime into the conversation to Scar’s surprise.

Through it all they continued to hang around each other. The other’s presence because comforting and routine. Though Grian would never admit it, he was happy that Scar stuck around. Even if he wasn’t ecstatic about Scar in the beginning, each fishing trip felt a little more fulfilling even without a mending book. He hadn’t wanted to spend this month any other way.

“I don’t think this is the spot.” He dejectedly spoke as he reeled in another fish.

“Are you sure? It’s barely been an hour.”

“No, I’m not sure, but I’m just so sick of getting nothing every single day. It’s so infuriating.” A sigh left his lips as he tossed it onto the pile and put down his fishing rod.

“Why don’t we just take a break. Let’s head into town to eat for a change.”

“Yeah, maybe you’re right. Finish up while I start packing up our stuff.”

‘Our.’ Just that simple word stuck in Scar’s head, enough to distract him from the pulling on his line. Snapping out of it, he reeled in is line. Much to his dismay it was a book. He walked over to his pile, but before he could inspect it, Grian called out to him.

“Ready to get going yet?”

He hid the book in the pile of items he had acquired pretending to sift through it. “Yeah, just let me finish putting everything away and I’ll be good to go.”

“Oh… Alright, I’ll just wait for you then.” Without another word Grian started towards the fishery.

Scar brought the book back out. It had a royal purple coloured cover decorated with golden trim, and an ominous aura to it. Besides, he already knew it was what Grian was looking for. Just in case, he was going to allow it to dry. Once he had gathered himself, he made his way to where Grian was.

“What are you in the mood for?”

“Anything as long as it’s delicious and filling.” Grian sulked as they strolled.

Scar just smiled, leading the way to the nearby tavern. They grabbed something quick to eat, not paying much mind to the time. Scar’s priority was to cheer Grian up after all. Well, that was before he had found what they had been searching for. It felt like it was looming over his head. He knew he had to tell Grian eventually.

“So, G. What are you going to do when you do find that book?” That question earned a coughing fit from Grian. “Oh, sorry I didn’t mean to startle you. Here-” He passed Grian his handkerchief, urging him to drink water as he tried to calm down.

“Why… Why do you ask?” Grian replied in between coughs. He cleared his throat, quietly thanking Scar and beckoning him to continue.

“Well, I just got to thinking. We’ve been fishing for a month, and it has to come to an end. I was just wondering what would happen to us when it does… End I mean.”

“Oh. I hadn’t really thought about what we would do. I guess, we’d probably go our separate ways.”

They sat there in silence for a moment. Wondering what the other was thinking. The thought of this coming to end was bittersweet and heartbreaking. Scar didn’t want it to end, but he’d be lying if the thought didn’t cross his mind. What was he to do after this? What was his life lie before hanging around Grian? That thought has only caused him more grief.

Scar never stayed in one place for very long. There was never anything keeping him tied to a single area. He was free to do as he pleased without a care in the world. For the first time, he had something to look forward to. Casual conversation, playful pranks, and a type of warmth he hadn’t experienced before. He liked the sense of security he began to associate with Grian. His home.

The thought of something changing, or Grian leaving him was devastating. And the fear began to set in. If he were to show Grian what he had found there was a large possibility that he’d leave him. He couldn’t take that chance. Maybe, if he held onto it for a little longer, he could find another reason for Grian to stay. Just maybe.

#hermitcraft #grian #goodtimeswithscar #scarian #hermitshipping #not edited #but I'll get around to editing it later #later night writing #the name of this two part series isn't the best so if you have a better name please let me know #the name is just what I labelled it in my doc lol

[clusterbuck]

Hi there :)

#55 for Spotify wrapped prompts

ok so number 55 is now that we don't talk by taylor swift but i don't fuck with breakup fics unless they're exes to lovers so here's some getting back together <3

can't pretend it's platonic (it's just ended)

Sometimes, it takes everything in Eddie not to reach out and touch Buck. 

He forgets, sometimes, that it isn’t what they do. Not anymore. That he can’t just reach out to skim his fingers along the corded muscle of Buck’s forearm, or tug on a curl that isn’t falling into line again after a shower. That he can’t snag his fingers in Buck’s belt loops as Buck walks by, stopping him in his tracks just to pull him in for a kiss. 

He forgets, sometimes, but he never makes it further than an abortive jerk of his hand before he remembers again. 

Part of him knows he can’t blame this on something as simple as muscle memory—the firehouse hadn’t known. He hadn’t exactly been in the habit of kissing Buck against the railing in the firehouse loft, so he should be able to walk past Buck leaning against said railing without thinking about the way he could fit his hands on it, one on either side of Buck’s hips, and lean in just far enough to press Buck’s back against it. 

But that’s only a very small part. The rest of him knows the feeling of Buck’s body against his well enough that he can imagine it all too easily, even in all the places they never kissed.

Buck sits across from him now, his long limbs pretzeled into one of the armchairs by the TV. He’s holing a book as if he’s reading it, but Eddie has never known Buck to take this long to turn a page.

He looks up, and sees Buck’s head flick down, as if Buck had been trying to look at him without being seen. Buck peers up again, cautious, and Eddie slams his gaze back to the puzzle he is supposedly working on with Hen.

She’s filled out all the borders. He’s added three pieces, total.

Eddie clears his throat and starts sifting through the pieces, slightly too vigorous. Hen frowns at him. “Eddie? You good?” 

He almost laughs at how ridiculous the question is. I broke up with the love of my life three days ago, he wants to say, and now he’s ten feet away from me and I have to pretend everything is fine. 

Instead, he smiles, and hopes Hen can’t tell how fake it is. In his armchair, Buck frowns, like he can.

read it on ao3

send me a number for a spotify wrapped prompt

#911fic #buddie #buddie fic #ask emma #emma writes #steadfastsaturnsrings

[nieceeee]

"SOON AS I GET HOME"

P/C: babydaddy eren POV from leaving your house.

W/C: 1.3k

A/N: Little quick fluff and emotional whirlwind yall been asking for. Just wanted to get this one out my head while I build the next part.

I think I need to build out a playlist and put these in order so we can know where to go from here. I never actually established their relationship before the baby and I want to share that. Its alittle wild but I think it will make sense to further the plot

My heart was heavy as I started my engine and pulled out of y/n’s driveway. What the fuck Eren? Why would you ask her that? I reprimanded myself. I shook my head at myself. I didn't head straight home. My mind still spinning. I knew I was getting too close to her but I couldn’t help it. Y/N was my everything at one point in my life. And now, seeing her with our child, watching her from afar, my heart started to long for those familiar moments. Memories of being cuddled up with her, my head in her legs as she stroked my scalp gently. Or when I would see the shock on her face as I would surprise her at home with dinners and gifts. She was so important to me but we never seemed to work out when we got together. It's like the balance was always tipped and it was easier to fight and leave than sift through the drama. 

Still, that never erased the good moments. I let out a heavy sigh. You can't do this Eren. You can't get attached. You’re in a relationship. I thought about my girlfriend. We had been together before I found out about the baby and recently after y/n had given birth. It’s been a tough journey. I knew that she knew I had gone back to y/n when we broke up. We weren’t dating but that definitely didn't stop the other things we did. My mind flooded with images of the day I helped her and a small ball of fire ignited in my stomach. I refocused again. As much as I wanted to relive some of those memories, I wouldn't do that to my girlfriend. She didn't deserve that. Part of me wanted to leave and try to convince y/n to work it out. But the fear of it failing and driving a wedge between us was too much to bear. I couldn't lose her and my baby. And being in a relationship made it easier for me to not act on the urges, at least not with y/n. Now the things I did alone in my room were different. 

It wasn’t intentional but I couldn't deny it and say sometimes my mind didn't shift to another person to get myself off. I was always riddled with guilt afterwards but it didn't change the way it made my body react to her. I groaned aloud. Why is this so damn complicated. 

I drove around a little while longer. I knew what was waiting for me when I got home and I wasn’t ready to let the small sense of peace I had leave just yet. When I was with y/n, I felt at ease. There was no confusion, just us. We could sit and talk for hours and I would long for it the moment it stopped. Y/n made me feel whole in a way I couldn’t explain and I wanted that wholeness all the time but she wasn’t on the same page. I could see it in her eyes when I asked her about us. The way she would shift the topic or dodge the questions when I mentioned what we could've been. I know we weren’t perfect but I at least hoped there was something to salvage with her. 

Tears burned in the back of my eyes but I cleared my throat and blinked them away. It was no use dreaming of things that wouldn't happen. I made the quick turn onto my street. Here we go. I thought to myself as I cut the engine on my car and walked inside. The lights were on and I knew she was awake and waiting for me to walk through the door.

“Did you fuck her?” She asked, disdain dripping from her voice. She sat in front of me, her arms crossed across her chest. I had just walked in the front door and she was already on her bullshit. I tried my best not to roll my eyes. “Again with this shit? You ask me every time I go over there.” I shook my head, kicked my shoes off at the door and made my way towards the guest bedroom. “Because you smell like her.” She said walking behind me. I groan internally. It was a never ending cycle with her and it was starting to weigh on me mentally. “Just answer the question Eren.” She pushed. “No.” I answered. “For the thousandth time, for the past 6 months. I did not and have not fucked her. Are you happy now?” She stood in front of me. Time stood still for a beat. Two beats. Three. “Fine.” She huffed before turning on her heels and walking away.

I let her leave before turning to get undressed and climb into bed. She had given me the ultimatum. ‘Whenever you go see her, you can sleep in the guest room. I don't want her scent in our bed.’ I’ll admit I found solace in those days. Moments where I could be alone and in my memories without feeling the weight of her next to me. I closed the door to the guest room behind me and locked it before sliding under the covers. I picked up my phone just as a text message came through. 

Hope you made it safe. Good night

My heart jumped in my chest as I responded. 

Yeah, here. Thanks. Good night baby doll

Good night Rennie.

I sat my phone down on the dresser and closed my eyes to rest but sleep wouldn't come to me. So as I always did, I picked it back up and went to my photos. I spent the next few minutes scrolling through the pictures and video of my son. My heart filled with joy as I looked back through the memories. Then I switched to my albums and pulled up my hidden folder and entered the passcode. All of the videos that included y/n appeared. A small smile tugged at my lips as I scrolled through them, pulling up my favorite. The video started to play, the camera on our son as he cooed and giggled in the playpen. Music was playing in the background as y/n got ready to go out with her friend for the day. “Hey little man, let’s go see what mommy is doing” I had said in the video. 

I picked him up and carried him and the camera into her room. She was dancing around, singing at the top of her lungs to Beyonce’s Love On Top. I recorded the way she jumped and spun as her voice matched the song.  She turned to me and gasped, eyes widening as I burst out laughing. “Damnit Rennie, I told you not to scare me.” I continued to laugh as she rolled her eyes playfully and went back to singing. She picked up her hairbrush and turned to me, pointing and singing the words to the song as I recorded her performance. My smile widened the same way it did when I was there. The action of her singing the lyrics and pointing her finger at me made me buzz with energy. I knew it wasn't for me. I knew she was in the moment but it didn't stop the way it made me feel. At the end of the video she did a goofy bow and walked closer to me. “Did you enjoy the show?” she asked, smiling and out of breath. “I did. I need an encore.” I teased her. The video ended with her laughing out loud.

My heart tugged as it ended. The longing heavier in my chest than before. I watched a few more videos before reluctantly sitting the phone down and releasing another breath. My eyes stared into the darkness as I reminisced on what could’ve been.

#aot x reader #aot x y/n #fem!reader #baby daddy eren #eren aot #eren x black reader #eren x reader #eren yeager #aot fluff

[nebulablakemurphy]

Moves & Countermoves (Part 20)

Summary: No one ever wins the games, even fourteen years later, Y/N is still playing.

Prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19

“Soldier Abernathy,” Boggs’ voice is the one to finally break them apart.

Y/N moves to her feet, straightening out her gear. “Yes.”

“Civilian Abernathy.” Boggs also acknowledges the man on the floor.

“Yep.” Haymitch groans, pulling himself up.

“There’s been an incident.” Boggs squares his shoulders.

“What kind of incident?”

“Peeta attacked Katniss.”

“He what?” Y/N stammers.

“Our Peeta?” Haymitch is getting older, surely he’s heard wrong.

Boggs nods. “Follow me-”

Without another word, Boggs ushers them to Katniss’ room in medical. She is limp on the bed, being changed into a hospital gown. She looks the same as she had when Haymitch left her, save for the large angry bruise, blooming over the expanse of her neck.

“Damn it,” Haymitch murmurs.

“How could this happen?” Y/N turns to Boggs.

“I stepped outside to give them privacy. When I heard the commotion, I went straight in. He’d already put her through the medicine cabinets and had her on the floor. It happened fast.”

Y/N brings a hand to her throbbing temple. “Thank you for…” Y/N breaks off. “I should’ve stayed with him.”

“Not your fault, soldier.” Boggs says, immediately.

Haymitch passes a hand over her back. See, you stubborn thing? Not everything can be your fault.

“I’ll be right outside the door if you need me.” Boggs excuses himself.

The doctors trickle out, leaving Katniss in her neck brace, hooked up to a bunch of beeping monitors.

“She’ll be out for a while, by the sound of it. We should check on Peeta. Try to figure out what the hell’s going on.” Haymitch kisses Y/N’s temple. Watching his wife stroke dark hair away from Katniss’ face.

Y/N nods.

Peeta’s room is not much better. He is restrained, for his own safety. Unconscious after the attack, Boggs had to get him off somehow.

The results of the bloodwork returns without traces of any hallucinogenic drugs. The only abnormal thing found in his system is trackerjacker venom.

“So what does this mean? He thought Katniss was someone else?” Haymitch asks Dr. Aurelius, who’s come to deliver the news. He’s not a regular doctor, he’s a head doctor. Maybe he’s here to make sure they don’t lose their shit?

“Well…it’s hard to say. I’ll need to speak with him once he regains consciousness. For now, it seems a bit odd that he would remember Y/N in the hovercraft and in this room, only to not recognize Katniss a moment later.”

There must be something…something she’s missing. “So you think he knew it was Katniss and did that to her anyway?”

“I understand how difficult this may be for you to hear, but Peeta did attack Katniss with the intent to kill her.” Dr. Aurelius explains.

Haymitch shifts, meeting Y/N’s eyes.

“That’s why he’s restrained?” Y/N presses her lips together.

“This is for his own safety.“

“I don’t understand.” Y/N cuts him off. “He held my hand all the way home.” There’s just no way. “Peeta wouldn’t do that to Katniss.”

“I know it is painful for you to see them this way. But given your experience on the hovercraft, I have every reason to believe that we can help him work through this.”

“How?” Haymitch wonders.

“With the knowledge that he recognizes Y/N, we will be able to use a trusted source to sift through the information fed to him by the Capitol. In theory we will be able to reverse this fear conditioning.” Dr. Aurelius is already working up a plan.

“So that’s what you think this is? A response to fear conditioning?” Haymitch asks.

“He has lacerations, old and new. Evidence of shocks and beatings, that with the presence of trackerjacker venom suggests what one would consider brainwashing. A hijacking, if you will.”

“Have you ever treated a patient in his condition?” Y/N gnaws at the insides of her cheek.

“I have never seen anything like this, no.”

“We’ll do whatever we can,” Y/N says, immediately.

“For now there is nothing to be done. Katniss and Peeta are resting, which they both desperately need. I might suggest you do the same.”

“If it were your kids, could you rest?” Haymitch bites out, bitterly.

Aurelius nods, in understanding. “No.” He stares for a moment more. “As Peeta’s family is deceased, you are his next of kin. You will be involved in making medical decisions. If anything changes you will be the first to know.”

“Thank you.”

“There is one more thing, before you go.”

“And what might that be?” Haymitch retorts.

“Johanna Mason has requested that you also be listed as next of kin, until she is found to be of sound mind.”

“What about Finnick?” Y/N wonders, they’ve always been close.

“Finnick struggled during separation with Annie.”From what Aurelius can see, he’s still struggling. “He is in no position to make decisions about her medical care. Rather her be a ward of the district, she would have you.”

“Of course, we’ll take her.”

————————————————————————

Pollux is with Madge, when they return to the children, keeping all three entertained. There’s someone else, perched in the corner, quiet, just watching.

“Mom?” Y/N says, warily. She’s only seen her once since they’ve been here. The older woman was deep into detox and screamed at her to get out.

“Hi, honey.” As if nothing has happened. As if nothing is wrong.

“Mommy, look what we made for Peeta!” Arista holds up the off white paper banner, lined with drawings and colored flowers.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Y/N chokes down her despair. How can I explain this? “It’s beautiful, he’ll love it.”

“You’re sad,” Everest calls her bluff.

Haymitch steps closer, saving her, the way he always has. “There’s something we need to talk about.”

“Is it Peeta?”

“Yeah,” Haymitch breathes, perching himself at the end of Everest’s bed. “Come here.” He pats the space on either side for his children. I’ll take this one.

Y/N follows her mother out into the hallway.

“How are you holding up?” The older woman asks.

“I’m ok.”

“Good.”

“So you’re out of rehab?”

“If that’s what you want to call it, yes.”

“You look really…healthy.”

“Y/N I saw Finnick’s broadcast and I- I just wanted to tell you how sorry I am. I’m sorry that I wasn’t there for you. That I couldn’t protect you. I know I wasn’t the best mother-”

“You did the best you could,” Y/N cuts her off. “As a mother, I understand that we can’t always be there the way we want to.”

“But you are there. Everyday and every night, you are there for those kids. They know that no matter what, their mom is coming home. They know that you will always be there. I’m sorry you didn’t have that.”

“It’s ok…I’m-” Y/N wraps her arms tightly around herself. “I’m ok.”

“When I lost Maysi, I lost myself. I tried to get it back, to get a grip, to keep pushing but I couldn’t. When you got reaped,” she breaks off. “When I saw my baby girl get taken from me I- I mourned you. I mourned you the second you got on that train and I never stopped mourning you. But you weren’t dead, you were alive and my mind, especially with the morphling, couldn’t comprehend that.”

“Mom, please, stop.”

“I know you must be angry with me.” Her mother tugs at Y/N’s hand. “But I need you to know that didn’t deserve that. You didn’t deserve any of this, you are so good. You are good and you are brave and you are strong. Better than I ever was or could be. And I’m going to be here for you now, if you’ll let me.”

Y/N nods, silently, brushing away tears. “Thank you.”

————————————————————————

The guilt grows, festering like a wound. Guilt over the strain on their marriage, guilt for their absence from their children. Guilt for Katniss, neck braced, in a coma. Guilt for Peeta, restrained, turned into a weapon meant to kill the only girl he’s ever loved. Guilt for Johanna, tortured and stripped of her dignity. Guilt for Cashmere, who lost her brother. Guilt for Madge who takes on so much burden that is not her own.

“He’s been asking for you.” One of the doctors from Peeta’s team catches Y/N in the hallway.

The voice is enough to snap Y/N back to the task at hand. Haymitch is with Katniss, such is their agreement, until Peeta feels more at ease in the presence of others. Triggering him is not worth the risk.

Through the observation window, she can see him struggling, tugging at the bonds. Two doctors are beside him, attempting to soothe him. Y/N enters the room without hesitation, fighting her way into his line of vision.

“Peeta.” She says softly, moving towards him.

His thrashing does not stop, but he registers that she is there.

“Can we clear the room?” Y/N asks.

“Of course.” The doctors nod, they too are at a loss.

Peeta’s breathing is so shallow and rapid, she fears he might be hyperventilating. His eyes searching her sadly, warily. “I thought you didn’t want to see me.”

“Why would you think that?”

“Don’t you know what I did?”

Katniss. “I’m not upset with you, Peeta. I just want to help you.”

“You don’t know what it was like.”

“You’re right, I don’t.”

“But Snow did stuff to you too, didn’t he?”

“Nothing like this,” Y/N swallows the lump in her throat. “I brought you something, from the kids; my kids.”

“I remember…” Almost. Memories dancing near the surface of a frozen lake.

“They made you this,” Y/N unrolls the slightly crumpled paper. “Sorry I smushed it.”

Peeta’s eyes well up with tears. “Can I keep it?”

“Yeah, of course, we’ll find somewhere to hang it up.”

————————————————————————

“My colleague, Dr. Maes, informed me that the two of you had a rather…colorful conversation, at the bed side of her patient, Johanna Mason.” Dr. Aurelius says, during his later session with Y/N.

“She’s not a good fit for Johanna,” Y/N explains. “I’d rather you see her.”

“I couldn’t possibly take on Peeta, Katniss, Johanna, Haymitch and yourself.” Aurelius explains, “given her condition-”

“Take me off the list.”

“Are you sure that’s the best decision?”

“It’s the only option I have.” Y/N crosses one leg over the other.

“Tell me why.”

“What?”

“Tell me why that’s the only option and I’ll consider it.”

Y/N takes a steadying breath. “You’re the best they’ve got down here and we both know it. This isn’t about being a lost cause, or a martyr. It’s about people needing you more than I do.”

Dr. Aurelius sighs, “I’m sure Haymitch will follow your lead.”

“I didn’t mention it to him yet.” The longing pangs in her chest.

When she does tell Haymitch, later that night, he’s half asleep.

“Whatever you want, Angel.” He murmurs, pulling her closer.

They’ve hardly seen each other. She feels the strain on his heart, tugging at her own. Y/N fists a hand in his shirt. “You’re what I want.” More time with you.

“You have me by the balls,” he scoffs, “Stop torturing yourself. Everyone has to pay the piper and revolutions don’t come cheap. If we have to keep going like this; for however long, we’ll do that.”

“This is enough for you? Five minutes to ourselves before bed, after being apart all day?”

“You’re enough.” Haymitch breathes, “you’ll always be enough.”

Just you and me.

————————————————————————

Katniss wakes a day later, clawing at the brace around her neck and breathing hard. The monitors surrounding her beep frantically as Boggs tries to calm her.

“Hey, Katniss. You’re alright.”

Her hands move back to the brace.

“Don’t, you’re swollen.” Boggs stills her fingers.

Katniss leans back in defeat, her voice is but a broken whisper. “Peeta.”

Part 21

Series Taglist: @praline357 @flowercrowns-goodvibes @justheretoparty420 @avocadotoastwithegg @treehouse-mouse @emo-markie @spilled-mi1k @magical-spit @greaser9902 @jessicamellarky @yourebuckingkiddingme @smuha2004 @sendhelplease @ninimackbrews @wittiestrain184 @r1dd1kulus @erenluvr69 @helpimhyperfixating @jackierose902109 @jellybear455 @dreammgc @dadbodfanatic-x @ftdtcmlovr @inky-sun @ms-brek-ker @undercover55655 @mischiefmanaged21 @avoxrising @koiphisch @drwho-ess @daisydaisybilly @misfits1a

#moves & countermoves #haymitch abernathy fanfic #haymitch abernathy x reader #haymitch abernathy #haymitch abernathy x y/n #haymitch x reader #haymitch abernathy x you #haymitch fanfic #haymitch x y/n #thg haymitch #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark

[zepskies]

And So It Goes - Part 15

Pairing: Billy Butcher x OFC (Latina!OC)

Summary: As Madelyn Stillwell’s personal assistant, Helena Flores finds herself caught between protecting her job — and more importantly her life — or helping Billy Butcher bring down the supe who killed her best friend, Becca. 

AN: This story lives!!! Lol I'll try to be more consistent about finishing the last few chapters on this story for those who are still following it.

ASIG Series Masterlist

Word Count: 5,000 Warnings: 18+ for some spiciness, angst.

15: Schemes & Lies

Three months after Butcher and Helena each accepted job offers, they had developed a kind of rhythm. On days like today, when he was home and actually woke beside her in bed, their mornings could afford to be lazy.

She woke to his hand slipping under her shirt as he moved in closer behind her. His bare chest met her back, and she felt his warmth. She had to stifle a smile, though her eyes remained closed while another hand brushed her dark hair away from her neck and pressed a nipping kiss just under her ear. His beard prickled along her skin.

“You can stop pretending you��re asleep,” he rumbled.

A real smile crept across her face as his fingers danced tantalizingly between her breasts. She breathed in deep and hummed with a little stretch, as if she were just waking up.

She gave herself away by purposefully rubbing her ass against his growing length. It earned a grunt from him, followed by a chuckle.

“All right, you fucking asked for it,” said Butcher.

Helena giggled and turned her head to accept a kiss. But before the morning could well and truly kick off, his phone buzzed on the nightstand.

They paused. She was the first to sigh and let her hand fall away from where it had begun to sift through his short hair.

“That’s you, babe,” she said.

“I know,” came his surly reply. Her amused smile returned while she watched him twist away to reach for the phone. He answered it without getting out of bed.

Predictably, it was Hughie. Supe Affairs had another case for him, Kimiko, and Frenchie. Some telekinetic supe was robbing stores without even entering the building.

By the time he hung up, Helena was ready for what her boyfriend was about to say when he sat up in bed and turned to her.

“I’ve gotta go,” he said.

She nodded and laid a hand on his chest. “Be safe.”

He briefly covered her hand and nodded. He hesitated for a moment, but he leaned over and pressed a parting kiss to her hairline.

Then, they each got out of bed to start the day. Butcher eventually left after freshening up and getting dressed, with a to-go mug filled with a fresh batch of Cuban coffee. When his car peeled out of the driveway, heading for the city, Helena saw that the coast was clear.

She got dressed for “work,” and she drove in the opposite direction—a couple of hours upstate. She sent a text each to both Grace and Ryan. By the time Helena got to the safe house, Ryan was already hanging out in the front yard waiting for her.

He ran up to her with a solid hug that almost bowled her over, but she accepted it with a laugh.

“Hey, buddy,” she greeted, carding her fingers warmly through his hair. “What’s up?”

“Nothin’ but the rent,” Ryan joked. She’d taught him that one when they were jamming out to ‘90s music while cooking dinner together last week.

“Damn right,” Helena grinned. She walked him inside, where Grace had been watching her charge from the front windows.  

“I need to run some errands. Are you all right here with him?” Grace asked. Helena nodded.

“Yeah, for sure,” she replied, before looking over at Ryan. “What’re we doing today? Trivial Pursuit, Sudoku, a movie?”

Ryan thought about it. Then he gave a smile that was all Becca.

“All three?” he suggested, and also implored with those big blue eyes.

Helena chuckled. This time, she ruffled his hair. “Okay, Sudoku and a movie first. Let’s pick one out.”

An hour later, they were nearly done with Jurassic Park: The Lost World when Ryan turned to Helena on the couch. A big bowl of popcorn was nestled between them, and their Sudoku booklets were long ago filled out. She’d have to bring more challenging ones next time.

“Can I ask you something?” said Ryan.

Helena nodded and paused the movie. “Shoot.”

“If you’re…together, why don’t you just come with Billy when he visits?” he asked.

She sighed; she’d thought she went over this already. “It’s not because I don’t want him to know I’m hanging out with you. It’s because this is important to me. The work I do with Grace is also important to me, but he’d rather I do something else… Billy wants me to be safe, but sometimes, I have to take risks in order to make a difference. Just like he’s doing with Supe Affairs.”

This was her conviction, and she couldn’t feel guilty about what she was doing, only that she was lying to him.

“I don’t get it,” Ryan said, his brows furrowing. “Are you doing something wrong?”

“What’s wrong is that I’m keeping it from him. But I don’t regret spending time with you, or working with Grace,” Helena replied. “Ryan, it’s natural to want to protect the people you care about. Like your mom. She made a lot of sacrifices to protect you, and that wasn’t wrong either.”

Ryan seemed to digest that, while Helena’s mind continued to churn. It had taken her a while to understand Becca’s choices, but if Helena could already feel this much of a desire to watch over Ryan and protect him, then she could only imagine what Becca had felt. Every day Helena spent with her best friend’s son was both a blessing and a curse: it reminded her of Becca, in the best and worst of ways.

She could also see him thinking, with that sad frown of his. It broke Helena’s heart, if she was honest. So she scooted over on the couch and tugged him into her side. He went willingly, resting against her when she wrapped an arm around his shoulders and rubbed his back.

“But just so you know, I don’t come to see you because I have to,” she said. “I think we’ve got a good thing going here, don’t you?”

Ryan smiled, and he nodded before glancing up at her. “Can you tell me another story about her?”

“Hmm.” Helena searched through the archives of her brain. “Okay, we were in high school—”

A knock at the door interrupted her. Her entire body tensed.

“Ryan, go to your room. Don’t come out unless I tell you to, okay?” she said.

He opened his mouth to protest, but seeing her serious gaze, he nodded and got up to heed her instruction. Helena grabbed the gun Grace had told her was hidden under the coffee table, and cautiously she went to the front door and looked through the peephole.

She relaxed, expelling a breath. Fuck.

“It’s okay, Ryan!” she called back, and she opened the door to one Billy Butcher.

His dark brows rose a fraction, the surprise evident in his eyes. He nearly dropped the new Connect 4 game he held.

“What the bloody hell are you doing here?” he asked.

Helena sighed and pushed the door open. “Nice greeting. Come in.”

Butcher grasped her arm and leaned in. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Ryan coming, but he still made a point to say lowly in her ear.

“You’ve got some ‘splainin’ to do, Hel.” His tone was cheeky, but it held an undercurrent of serious that she recognized well.

“We’ll hash it out at home. Don’t make a scene in front of Ryan,” she replied. She caught sight of Grace’s car pulling back into the driveway. “I’ll head out first.”

After saying a quick goodbye to Ryan with a hug (all the while ignoring Butcher’s eyes on her), Helena took her leave and started the long drive back home.

Butcher watched her go through the window. And when Grace entered the house, his grouch look let her know that they’d be having words.

He spent the better part of the afternoon catching up with Ryan and playing their new game. But when the kid finally went upstairs for a shower before the dinner Grace was cooking, Butcher cornered her in the kitchen.

“You’ve got some mighty fucking nerve, don’tcha?” he said.

Grace shot him a roll of her eyes. “Come off it, Butcher.”

“You should’ve fucking told me,” he said hotly. “You didn’t just let her back into the game. You pushed her right into the bloody center.”

Grace stopped stirring the spaghetti sauce to level him with a glare.

“Your actions have consequences,” she said coolly. “You could’ve left Helena well enough alone, and let her put Homelander, and all of Vought out of her mind. You are the one who can’t let go.” 

Butcher later found Helena back at her house. She had showered and dressed into one of her old college shirts, faded and rung smaller in the wash, and some skimpy shorts. If she was trying to distract him, she’d have to work a bit harder than that. (Though the sight of her, bare legs and braless, did catch his eye.)  

He turned off the TV while she was watching the latest episode of The Great British Bake Off and looked down on her with a face of stone. She curbed her inclination to spark off first.

“Look, I’m sorry I lied to you—”

“That’s the least of it,” Butcher snapped. “I don’t need you stepping into my business—”

“Excuse me,” she said tersely, and she pushed off the couch to meet his tense stance. “Ryan isn’t just your business. Becca was like a sister to me. You and I both know that she wanted her son taken care of.”

“Grace and I have it covered,” Butcher argued.

“Ryan would be lucky to see you once a month,” she countered. “And Grace can’t watch him every second of the day. Besides, he needs more than that. He needs as many friends and socialization as we can give him—”

“And what happens if Homelander finds him someday,” he reminded. “What the fuck happened to laying low?”

Helena made a sound of frustration and threw up her hands.

“Well, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I just can’t do some stupid fucking data entry job,” she said. “I’ve been in this too long. And apparently, so have you.”  

Butcher didn’t have an answer for her.

So he left, and slammed the door behind him.

Helena didn’t know this, because Butcher screened his calls for the next two days. But he drove back into the city after seeing a text from Queen Maeve, of all people, on his latest burner phone.

He rented a by-the-hour motel for the express purpose of doing business. She had been giving him intel on rogue supes for months, acting as his undisclosed informant.

Tonight, she met him there with a few samples of Vought’s latest R&D project: V24. Supposedly, it gave someone superpowers for just 24 hours.

Why? Well, maybe it would give Butcher the edge he needed to end Homelander, once and for all.

But the pièce de resistance of that conversation was her latest tip: a weapon that could possibly kill Homelander, like it killed America’s first superhero.

Soldier Boy.

Helena was in a silently simmering rage when she got ahold of Frenchie over the phone. She paced the length of her living room. 

“I’m only going to ask this once, and I don’t want any bullshit, Frenchie,” she said. “Where is he?”

The other man gave a nervous chuckle. “Why’re you trying so hard to find Monsieur Charcutier?”

She paused; no one on the team, not even M.M. knew that she and Butcher were together. She made up an excuse on the fly.

“It’s about Ryan,” she said. “I’ve been helping Grace with a few projects, including his safety detail.”

“Truth be told, I haven’t seen him in a few days,” Frenchie admitted. “But, the last time he was here, he mentioned something about finding a supe named Gunpowder.”

Gunpowder? The name rung a bell, but not much of one.

“Why?” she asked. Frenchie heaved a sigh, but he eventually told her about Butcher’s latest plan (obsession)—finding the weapon that might’ve killed Soldier Boy forty years ago.

Helena hung up with Frenchie and made yet another call.

“Yes?” Grace answered.

“What do you know about Soldier Boy’s death?” Helena asked, in a tone that said she had no time and patience for any runaround.

There was a pause on the line.

Soon enough, however, Grace’s shrewd voice returned.

“I know he’s dead,” she said. “Whatever Butcher’s after this time, he’s chasing a ghost story.”

Helena wanted to believe that was true, but she had spent her entire career reading people. Reading a room, hearing the unspoken in what they said. And she had an inkling that her new boss was lying her ass off. 

Not even 24 hours after that conversation, Grace called Helena to ask for her help…and to drop a bomb.

“What the fuck? Victoria Neuman’s a supe?” she exclaimed, but soon covered her mouth, as if anyone could hear her in the privacy of her big empty house.

“It’s worse than that,” Grace sighed. She then explained that Hughie had seen her explode a man who knew her before she became Victoria Neuman. She’d been adopted from an orphanage as a child…by Stan Edgar, of all people.

Helena sat down hard on the living room couch and rubbed at her already aching head.

“And I fucking made her head of Supe Affairs,” Grace said. In her tone, Helena knew the woman was kicking herself.

“She knows where Ryan is?” Helena asked.

“Yes. I’ve already organized his relocation. Meet me at the following address, but don’t write it down.” 

Helena had a better photographic memory than she did an audible one, but she still remembered the numbers and street to the letter.

As always, Ryan was happy to see her. He came bounding to her when she got out of her car. Grace came out as well.

This house was old and situated on the verge of forest, virtually in the middle of nowhere, and cold and dreary with large gray clouds looming above.

“What’s the plan?” Helena asked Grace, after the three of them headed inside. Ryan showed Helena where the kitchen was so she could start making some tea; she needed something to calm her nerves.

“This is safe, for now, but we’ll need to keep moving,” said Grace. “It’s up to you whether you want to come with us.”

The unspoken second choice was staying at home, where Helena was most likely safer. At this point, if she were to keep visiting Grace and Ryan, she could potentially put his safety in jeopardy.

They had to assume Victoria had told Stan Edgar what she knew about Ryan’s first safe house. The fact that Homelander hadn’t come barging in for a year told them that either Victoria or Stan had kept the information to themselves (a small blessing). But Ryan had been even more exposed than they thought.

Helena watched Ryan carefully pour the hot water from the kettle into each of the mugs. She spoke lowly with Grace, even though they both knew that the child’s superior hearing would likely pick up on whatever they said.

“I don’t want to leave him,” Helena whispered.

“You have to think of what’s best for him,” Grace replied.

“I am,” Helena returned. “He needs us. All of us. Even Billy.”

Especially Billy, she thought.

Helena and Grace continued to go over the pros and cons of her continuing to make her visits to Ryan, but Helena was surprised when Grace answered a text with a frustrated sigh.

“Butcher’s coming,” she said.

“What? Now?” Helena said. Both hope and anger trilled through her. She hadn’t heard from him in a week, and now he was swooping in?

Well, she doubted he knew she would be here, to be fair.

An hour or so later, she was proven right. Butcher drove up with Kimiko, Hughie (who strangely had his right arm in a cast), and even M.M. They were just as surprised to see Helena, though they watched the scene unfolding between her and Butcher as they stared at one another with tension.

It didn’t break, even when Ryan came to all but tackle Butcher with a hug.

“Ooh,” Butcher grunted, hiding a frisson of pain as he hugged the kid back. “Easy does it, lad. Bloody death grip you got there.”

Ryan backed off slightly with concern. He’d noticed the same thing Helena did, apparently.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Butcher said with an easy smile. He patted the kid’s shoulder and began to lead him inside. Though his eyes met Helena’s as he passed her. They both knew they didn’t want to make a scene in front of Ryan.

But pulled him aside into the hall before he could have whatever tete-a-tete he wanted to have with Grace. Helena smacked him on the chest, making him flinch.

“Ey!” he protested, but she leveled a finger at him.

“You’ve got some fucking nerve,” Helena hissed. “You go radio silence on me for a week. I have to find out from Frenchie about your latest batshit crazy fucking scheme to end Homelander.”

Butcher’s teeth clenched in frustration, but he grasped her arm gently.

“Look, we can hash this out all you want later. But we’ve both got some fucking work to do here,” he said.

Helena shrugged his hand off her arm. “That’s no apology. Until you’re ready for that, I guess we have nothing to discuss.”

She turned on her heel and went into the room where Grace and the others were waiting, save for Kimiko, who was keeping an eye on Ryan in the backyard.

Butcher sighed and followed Helena into the large study. Helena stood by Grace with her arms crossed. Hughie stood opposite with M.M., who looked between Butcher and Helena shrewdly.

“Aw, hell nah,” he said.

Hughie’s brows drew together in confusion. “What?”

M.M. sighed and cast a finger between the simmering Helena and the tense shoulders of Butcher.

“I can’t believe it,” he said. “How long’ve you two been fucking?”

Helena’s eyes widened, while Butcher’s went heavenward.

“Here we fuckin’ go,” he muttered.

“It’s not,” Helena tried to speak, with stops and false starts that had her blushing. “It’s not exactly like that.”

M.M. tilted his head and crossed his arms. “Yeah? What’s it like?”

“For Christ’s sake,” Butcher said.

“Whoa, what?” Hughie interjected.

“Can we please just,” Grace tried, but Helena finally raised her voice to cut over everyone.

“It’s a thing, okay! We’re together,” she said, though she sent Butcher a glare. “Though at the moment, that remains to be seen.”

A pregnant pause filled the room.

Hughie managed to utter, “Uh...how long’s this been going on?”

Helena sighed. “About a year.”

M.M. blinked in surprise, though it didn’t shock him to see that Grace clearly knew. He shook his head.

“Interesting.”

“Right, can we get back to the matter at hand?” Grace said. “Victoria Neuman. I’d very much like to hear the plan to eliminate her.”

“Well, that depends,” Butcher said. His hands slid into his pockets as he turned to her. “On what you can tell us about your holiday, down in Nicaragua.”

What? Helena thought. She turned to Grace with a frown.

“I’ve never been to Nicaragua,” said the agent.

“Oh really? ‘Cause a little birdy told me you were Payback’s case officer down there, on a classified job that Soldier Boy never came back from.”

The other woman tried to deny she knew anything about what Butcher was talking about…but after he threatened to expose all of her contacts and agents in the CIA, both active and inactive. Helena looked at Butcher incredulously, wondering where his soul had gone to.

He avoided her gaze and remained steady on Grace. This was how he got results.

“It was part of Operation Charly,” Grace eventually admitted, though through her disgust at Butcher.

To Helena’s further surprise, Grace admitted to participating in a secret CIA operation in 1984 for the Cold War efforts against the Russians. In which the CIA trafficked cocaine into the U.S. to fund the government’s efforts.

And Vought American, led by a young Stan Edgar, leveraged enough political power to try partnering their team of supes with American soldiers. Their team was Payback, led by Soldier Boy, Vought’s first superhero.

Helena had been a records keeper, among other things. She knew Soldier Boy’s story all too well. His backstory had been carefully crafted: a “rags to riches” story that framed a poor young kid from hard knocks into taking the world’s first super serum in 1944. He’d led his own unit in World War II, fighting against the Nazis and for the American dream.

His entire career had been tickertape parades, shitty movies, and even a few cheesy music videos that had been chart toppers in the ‘70s and ‘80s. Helena had seen them all. And she’d come to learn, just as well, that they’d been completely fabricated.

Now, she had to listen to Grace tell her story. About how the cast of Payback had fucked up the entire mission.

But Butcher paused her story halfway through, looking pale and almost green as he made his way down the hall to the bathroom. Helena frowned. She held a waiting hand up at Grace and went to follow him.

She heard the flush of a toilet, more than once, after the sounds of his upheaval. She was leaning against the wall, arms crossed when Butcher finally emerged. He stopped short, meeting her gaze. In his, she saw that his eyes were red and glossy. His skin was ashen and dewy with sweat. She could faintly smell chemicals on him. Her head tilted.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“‘M fine, Hel.”

“Nope. Try again.” She stepped into his orbit and looked up at his face. This didn’t look like a bad burrito or a stomach bug. This looked worse. Like withdrawal. “Oh my God. Are you on something?”

Butcher looked away from her. She grasped his trench coat and made him look at her.

“What the hell is going on with you? Jesus, Billy. Talk to me,” she pleaded. “When were you going to tell me about this Soldier Boy thing?”

Again, he didn’t want to seem to answer her. Her lips pursed.

“Look, I know you’ve got M.M. and the rest of the guys. But weren’t you and I in this together?” she asked.

Butcher made the mistake of looking into her eyes. There, he couldn’t lie.

“It’s temp. V. Or uh…V24,” he said.

Helena’s eyes went wide as her mouth fell open. “Oh my fucking…Billy.”

V24 was the last R&D project she heard about before she quit her job at Vought. She knew all too well what it was.

“Finally gives me the chance to level the fucking playing field,” he said. She grasped at his shirt.

“How the fuck did you get that? When I left, it was still in preliminary testing,” she said.

“Well, the mockups are a bit hairy, but it gets the fucking job done,” he said.

She let out an incredulous scoff, resting a hand on his pale cheek. “Clearly it isn’t without side effects.”

Butcher’s face was grim. “Small price to pay.”

Helena paused. Her expression dimmed from concern to shock, and then sadness. Her hand slowly fell from his cheek.

“You’re not going to stop,” she said shakily. “This vendetta you have against Homelander. You’re not gonna stop until you’re dead. Which means you’re giving up on us. On everything we have…or would’ve had.”

“Hel,” Butcher sighed. He tried to hold her, but she slipped away from his would-be embrace.

She shook her head, and tears welled up in her eyes. 

“You don’t really love me,” Helena realized, her lower lip trembling. “Either that, or you hate Homelander more.”

She didn’t give him a chance to touch her again. She walked away from him, down the hall and back into the room where Grace and the others were waiting. She scrubbed at her tears along the way.

Grace’s story culminated in Swatto giving away the CIA’s position. The cartel they were trying to avoid brought Russian special forces in as their allies.

A mass shootout ensued, in which all of Grace’s unit were massacred, and Soldier Boy had somehow been killed, his body taken far beyond the Iron Wall, along with whatever mystery weapon that could possibly kill an invulnerable supe.

Helena couldn’t help but see Grace in a new, more sour light. Yes, she’d been the sole survivor of a mass grave. But she had led an operation that had ruined the lives of thousands.

When Grace asked to speak to Butcher alone for a moment, Helena easily agreed. She needed a break from both of them. She left the room in disgust and joined M.M. on the porch outside. They watched Hughie join Kimiko in playing Connect 4 with Ryan.

“I’m sorry,” M.M. said. It earned her curious gaze. “I can’t even judge you for hooking up with Butcher, because I’m here now too.” 

She smiled faintly. Though a few minutes later, she frowned with a jolt as the front door slammed open. Out came Butcher, roiling mad. Grace was on his heels.

“What happened?” Hughie asked. He and Kimiko walked over with Ryan.

“We’re off,” Butcher snapped. He headed for his car without even looking their way. Ryan ran over to meet him.

“Butcher, wait up! Where-where’re you going?” he asked.

“The city,” Butcher spoke shortly. Helena got up to follow them. Worry churned in her gut, for both of them.

“When will I see you again?” asked Ryan.

“You won’t. Ain’t safe for you.” Butcher’s words were clipped, and none too gentle.

“Billy,” Helena tried to stop him. It took Ryan pushing at the man, showing a fraction of his super strength. It was clearly instinctual, born of desperation. But Helena saw the hint of wariness behind Butcher’s eyes.

“What are you talking about?” Ryan asked. Pleaded really, for an explanation, for some compassion. Butcher had seemed to be rung dry.

“I got to go,” he said.

That was when Ryan grabbed the man’s arm, with intentional strength. He huffed and puffed like he was on the verge of losing control.

“Ryan,” Helena warned, with worry in her eyes. She stepped up behind Butcher, who held out a protective hand against her coming closer.

“Ryan, let go,” Butcher said, with authority.

“No! You said you’d always watch out for me,” Ryan cried. “You promised!”

Butcher repeated himself, more firm, but still, the kid didn’t relent.

“I won’t let you!”

“Well, maybe I don’t want to look at ya, after what you done to my Becca. Did you ever think of that?” Butcher snapped.

Helena gaped. Her shock was almost as visceral as Ryan’s dismay. He let go of Butcher with tears already welling up in his eyes.

His eyes that flashed red.

Helena gasped this time. It led Butcher to subtly shift his stance, so he was standing directly in front of her. He already regretted his words, but his anger and his pride wouldn’t allow him to do anything more than watch for what Ryan would do.

With a blink, the red haze was gone, but he reached for the chain of the Christopher’s medal around his neck and yanked it off. He threw it at Butcher’s feet.

“I hate you,” he said, in a trembling voice. He ran back into the house.

 Butcher turned around to find that Helena also had tears unshed in her eyes. She trembled with both shock and a thread of wary fear. Before he could ask if she was all right, she looked up at him like she didn’t know him.

“How could you do that?” she asked. “He’s just a kid, Billy!”

He glanced down at the ground. His face told her that he knew she was right, but out of his mouth came more resigned assholery.

“Yeah, well, what else is fucking new,” he said. Helena scoffed angrily.  

“You’re more than this,” she said. “I don’t care what the hell Grace told you. You don’t have to be this man.”

He tilted his head at her.

“And what would you have me be? Prince bloody fucking Charming?” Butcher shot back. “You can babysit that kid all you want, but you ain’t his fuckin’ mum! You ain’t Becca.”

A shaking breath fell from Helena’s lips. She flinched as if he’d slapped her.

Butcher saw it all play out across her face: shock, dismay, and deep hurt. Her tears welled up once more and slid down her cheeks. Behind her, he saw M.M., Grace, Hughie, and Kimiko. All of them saw a monster in human clothing.

Rather than torture himself further by staring at her face, he looked away. And like a coward, he began to turn from her to head for his car.

“If you walk away from me, I’m done,” Helena said. She watched him halt in his steps. “I’ll be fucking done with you for real.”

His steps halted for a moment.

She saw that it wasn’t enough to hold him, however. Her tears continued to fall as she watched him walk away from her, and she glared at his back all the while.

She accepted murmured apologies from M.M. and Hughie, and a sad look from Kimiko as they left to continue their mission: their hunt for Soldier Boy.

Helena felt rooted to where she stood, until Grace laid a hand on her shoulder.

Both women eventually turned back to the house. Helena wiped at her tears and went upstairs to find Ryan’s door. She leaned against it and let out a breath.

“You want to talk?” she offered.

“Leave me alone!” came the angry reply. But she knew he was crying, that his heart was shattered.  

She knew the feeling.

AN: 😬 Sorry for ending on angst, but we're headed into the meat of S3 now...

Next Time:

Butcher makes a deal, and Helena finally meets Soldier Boy! 😜

Soldier Boy distracted Helena from her thoughts, however, when he reached out to thumb at her chin, raising her face up to his. 

“What’s your name, by the way?” he asked. His head quirked slightly. 

“Helena.” She guided his hand away with her own, but in one smooth motion, he’d taken her hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it. 

“The face that launched a thousand ships,” he teased. “I like it.”

“That was Helen,” she replied, subtly tugging her hand out of his. “You know, of Troy.”

But the bitch of the bunch was, she was actually blushing.

Keep Reading: PART 16

The Boys Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Tag List:

@lauraaan182 @homielander @calizmor @haibara-ai-tsii @brujaporfavor @sleepyqueerenergy @adoringanakin @skyesthebomb @lunaticgurly @deans-spinster-witch @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007

@wincastifer @ades106 @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @brianochka @branj19 @hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog @globetrotter28 @charmed-asylum @waywardxwords @deanwinchestersgirl87 @this-is-me19 @rachiem4-blog @sweettimelady @leigh70 @clinicallydepresso

@xiphoidbones @skoveu @nyotamalfoy @kmc1989 @emily-winchester @emily-winchester @xxlaynaxx

#Schemes & Lies #and so it goes #part 15 #the boys #billy butcher #billy butcher x oc #butcher x oc #billy butcher x ofc #poc!oc #billy butcher x reader #Butcher x Latina!OC #karl urban #poc oc #latina!oc #mother's milk #hughie campbell #kimiko #zepskies writes

[radiant-reid]

Oooh! Can we get a blurb on this?

I need to visualize this for my daily scenarios

Yup !! I got three requests for this omg

Spencer’s the only boyfriend you’ve ever had who has volunteered to come clothing shopping, knowing there’s nothing at the mall he wants to buy or look at. He’s not like the other boyfriends standing outside stores looking at their phones, texting their girlfriends to hurry up.

No, Spencer is all in with you, and you’re grateful for it. He has an eye for patterns that’ll look good on you and he’s very attentive.

It seems like the perfect afternoon together, until he notices a dress you’ve picked up, interested in trying on. “You’ll need a bigger size than that.” He tells you. “At least one size bigger, but I can go and grab both one size bigger and two sizes bigger.”

His offer seems helpful and his eyes are caring but you’re heartbroken. Totally heartbroken.

It breaks your heart before you can tell yourself it’s silly, that he didn’t mean it as a criticism because he probably didn’t, he’s sweet Spencer. But it hurts deep down.

It’s not the appropriate thing to say and the connotations are a total whiplash to the sweet compliments he was giving you a minute ago.

Spencer doesn’t notice what he’s said, going back to sifting through another rack of dresses while you stand there paralyzed.

But you can’t bare to witness him hand you something to try on two sizes bigger than you expect it so you shallowly speak up. “I think I’m done.”

He’s taken off guard by your sharpness and sudden lack of enthusiasm, but he agrees nonetheless. “Okay… do you still want to get gelato on the way out?”

You shake your head firmly. “No, I don’t want any of that.”

He knows something is wrong then, but he doesn’t know if it was even him. It could have been a text you got that upset you, so you go home without a word of protest from him.

You’re not the same that night, he notices. You barely seem interested in having him at your apartment, not even starting on the fashion show you promised to give where you showed him the right tops that would work with your new jeans.

“What happened?” He asks, looking at you with worry as his deductions come together. Well, half come together. “I messed up somehow and I’m really sorry because I am trying to be the perfect boyfriend.”

You know that, and you can’t ignore how perfect he’s been so far so you nod, agreeing to yourself to be honest with him. “What you said about me needing a bigger size kind of hurt.”

It takes a moment for it to compute in his brain but you notice when it does because his eyes cloud with tears. “Y/n, no I didn’t mean it like that.” He frantically promises. “I was just trying to be helpful and it was so dumb and I’m so sorry.”

You shake your head, not wanting him to be as upset as he looks. “It’s alright.”

“It’s not.” He argues. “I’m so used to profiling people I didn’t see how that could be hurtful and for that I’m very sorry.”

You nod. “Thank you. I know it wasn’t meant to be critical.”

“But it felt like that in the moment.” He adds, exactly what you’re thinking. “Shit, sorry I shouldn’t have done that.”

You grab his hands in yours, holding them firmly. “Spence, I love how observed you are, please don’t stop doing that. Just maybe no comments besides compliments about how I look.”

He quickly nods, eager to please. “I promise. You’re the most gorgeous person I’ve ever met, you know?” He asks you.

That’s the Spencer observations you’re used to having and you grin. “Thank you.”

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid blurb

[lewmagoo]

Happy Birthday, Leah! 🥳 For your tea party, I’d love some earl grey—could I request “i made you cry. and i hate myself for that. i swore i wouldn’t be one of the people who left you hurting” with Rhett?

- @bradshawsbaby 💕

the air between you was quiet. too quiet. you had gotten into an argument. not your first one, but it was the first one that had ended in tears. you were frustrated with rhett. you loved him so deeply, and you wanted this relationship to work. but he had a lot of emotional baggage to sift through. you were willing to help him through it. you’d offered to let him lean on you. however, the thing with rhett was, he struggled to let people in. he had been hurt deeply by those who were supposed to love him. by his father. his brother. by past lovers who only wanted him for what he had to offer physically. he had built walls around himself. plates of sturdy armor around his heart.

you wanted him to know that you wouldn’t hurt him. that he didn’t have to keep his guard up around you. and he agreed to try to work through it with you, but in the beginning, it was a struggle. he had a hard time with communicating. he preferred to keep to himself, but the problem was, you wanted to know things. you wanted him to open up to you. you wanted him to know that what you two shared was a safe space. that was easier said than done, and you found yourself growing frustrated with him. you didn’t know that your frustration was getting to him. when you exasperatedly said “why can’t you just talk to me, rhett?! all i ask is that you communicate!” it pushed him over the edge.

he said some things he didn’t mean. hurtful things. “maybe i just want to be left alone, did’ya ever think of that?!” he’d snapped. and oh, how he regretted those words as soon as they left his mouth. you didn’t argue back. no, you did something worse than that. you went silent. you closed your mouth, and he could see the tears welling in your eyes. your bottom lip quivered, but you refused to succumb to your emotions. “if that’s what you want, then that’s what you’ll get,” you simply said. and you’d walked away, allowing him the space he wanted so badly. and ever since then, rhett had been beating himself up, so angry with himself for the way he’d handled things.

now, it was hours later, and you were together again, but this time, in the cab of his truck. he’d picked you up from work, as he’d been doing for the last few weeks. but you hadn’t said a single word to each other the entire drive to your place. it was rhett who broke the silence when he pulled into your driveway. “i’m sorry,” he whispered. “rhett—” you tried, but he shook his head. “no, listen t’me. i made you cry. and i hate myself for that. i swore i wouldn’t be one of the people who left you hurting. i shouldn’t have said what i did…i don’t know what i was thinkin’. but i didn’t mean it, you hear me? i don’t want you to leave me alone. that’s the last thing i want. i’m just…god, i’m so fuckin’ bad at this. all i do is push you away. i wouldn’t blame ya if you decided you didn’t want to do this anymore.”

your heart ached at his words, and tears welled in your eyes again. you reached out, gently touching his jaw, turning his face toward you. “rhett, baby. i’m not ready to give up on us. i want to make this work. i want to fight for you. but you have to let me. you can’t shut me out,” you spoke. he let out a breath, and you could see, even in the dim light, that his eyes were alight with emotion. “i…i want to try harder. but i need help. i can’t…i can’t work through this shit on my own. need you to show me how to be a better man. for you.” at his confession, you leaned in, pressing your forehead to his. “oh, my love. you don’t have to do it on your own. i’ll do whatever it takes to help you through this. we can do it, together. i won’t give up on you. you hear me? i’m with you, for better or worse.”

rhett had spent so long running from his demons. but now, he needed to stand his ground and face them head on. he could do it, he knew he could. but he’d need to put in the extra work to sort through these deeply rooted issues of his. however, for the first time in his life, he had someone standing in his corner, willing to fight alongside him. he didn’t have to go it alone anymore. you were going to be by his side every step of the way. and for once, the path ahead didn’t seem so daunting. maybe things were going to be okay after all.

#asks #rhett musings #rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott fanfiction #leah’s birthday tea party

[the-bad-batch-baroness]

Of Frogs and Clones

Hardcase x Fem!Reader

Chapter 1: The Mysterious Liquid

Summary: It's the clone's last night in the barracks together as soldiers and Hardcase drinks a mysterious liquid from Jesse's duffle that turns him into a frog. With the help of his brothers and the Right To Love Matchmaking service, they work against the clock to find him "true love's kiss" and turn him back into a human.

Pairing: Hardcase x Fem!Reader

Characters: Hardcase, Jesse, Kix, Rex, Fives, Echo, Tup, Dogma

Tags & Warnings: matchmaking!au, fluff, humor, strange magic, clone shenanigans, unconventional love story, dialogue heavy

Word Count: 3.6k

Author's Note: My first entry for the @tcwmatchmakingau! This series is pure fun and ridiculousness. There's no angst, no hurt, no underlying themes, and no deep meanings. Only utter nonsense. Reader and RTL are not in the first chapter. I know I have other series to finish, but I needed to cross off another bingo square first 😅 As always, please enjoy 💚

@clonexreaderbingo Square: Mystery

Chapter 1

The Clone Wars have finally drawn to a close, leaving the remaining clones in a precarious spot of facing the unknown civilian life before them. To aid in their assimilation, the senate passed legislation to give clones official citizenship status, government subsidized housing, a credit stipend, and help with job placement. Tonight is their last night sleeping in the barracks and as they pack their belongings and prepare for life outside of the GAR, things get a little hectic.

“What do you think it’s going to be like?” Jesse asks while pulling things out of his overstuffed duffle.

“Dunno,” Hardcase answers as he stares at the bunk above him, hands laced behind his head. His duffle doesn’t have much in it, so he finished packing a while ago.

“I bet it’s going to be fun,” Fives smiles while throwing his things haphazardly into his duffle. “No rules, no regulations, no chain of command.”

Echo stops folding his blacks and grimaces at the thought. “That sounds awful.”

“Lighten up,” Tup playfully punches Echo’s shoulder. “We can finally do whatever we want.”

“I’m with Echo,” Dogma adds. “A bunch of people doing whatever they want sounds chaotic. Where’s the order?”

“We make our own order,” Kix chimes in. “We follow the laws and do the right thing. Like we’ve always done.”

“What if we mess up?” Echo wonders, a twinge of apprehension in his voice. “I don’t want to be court-martialed on day one.”

“You can’t be court-martialed if you’re a civilian,” Fives chuckles. “But if you do mess up… Then Fox will get you!” Fives jumps on Echo’s back for dramatic effect.

Echo groans and pushes Fives off while the rest of the group laughs.

“As long as we stick together, we’ll be fine,” Jesse reassures.

Murmurs of agreements resound through the barracks and they resume organizing what little belongings they have.

Hardcase rolls onto his side and watches Jesse attempt to pack his duffle bag so that the zipper will close. He’s still unsure how Jesse accumulated so much junk over the past few years. The ARC has a souvenir from almost every planet he’s ever been on. Even after everyone else is done packing, Jesse is still sifting through his things, picking which ones to take with him and which ones to leave behind. He pulls out a bottle of green liquid and places it on the ground.

“What’s that?” Hardcase asks while pointing at the bottle.

“I’m not sure,” Jesse answers. He picks up the bottle and inspects it for a second before setting it back down. “It was given to me by a local at the beginning of the war. I must have forgotten about it.”

“Is it alcohol?” Hardcase asks curiously. He sits up in his bunk and grabs the bottle off the floor, tilting it from side to side to watch the strange liquid slosh around.

“Maybe,” Jesse shrugs. “I couldn’t understand the local language and I never opened it to try it.”

Hardcase wonders what it could be as he continues to turn the bottle in different directions, completely mesmerized by its shimmering contents. “Can I drink it?”

“I don’t see why not,” Jesse says.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Kix warns. He swipes the bottle from Hardcase’s hands.

“Hey,” Hardcase pouts. He sits back down on his bunk and crosses his arms. “That’s mine.”

“Technically–”

“You don’t know what’s in it,” Kix interrupts Jesse’s rebuttal to give a warning. “It could be poisonous.”

“We won’t know that unless we try it,” Hardcase argues.

“Listen,” Kix sighs. “We’re one night away from being free men. I’m not going to let a bottle of suspicious liquid ruin that for you.”

“Isn’t that my choice now?” Hardcase questions.

“Not until 05:00,” Rex chimes in. Upon hearing their captain's voice, all of the Torrent Company stops what they’re doing and stands to attention.

In preparation for their official discharge from the GAR, Rex spent the entire day with the senate and a specialized CCL (civilian clone liaison) to make sure that his men’s transition was taken care of and that it would be as smooth as possible. He meticulously worked each clone’s case with the CCL to approve their housing, their new identichips, and their credit stipends. It was an exhausting process, but his signature was required on every form in the assimilation packets.

“At ease men,” Rex says.

“So,” Fives begins with anticipation. “What’s the word?”

Rex smiles and reveals a stack of identichips. “It’s official.”

Rex walks around to each one of his men and hands them their new identichip. The clones take them eagerly and marvel with wonder at the digital cards with their chosen names and faces inscribed on them. Not a CT number in sight. The excitement in the room is almost too much for the clones to contain. Whispers and wide-eyes turn into hollers, whoops, and hugs. They’re now official citizens of Coruscant and have the same rights as any other citizen.

“Settle down and listen up!” Rex exclaims. “These identichips are your key to life. Do not lose them. They will go into effect at 05:00 tomorrow morning, so until then, you are still under my command.”

The clones stop their chatter and nod their heads in understanding.

“Tomorrow, you’ll be free men,” he starts, “and I will no longer be your captain, but your friend. You’ll be able to make your own choices, live your own lives, and decide your own destinies.” Rex pauses and shifts his weight. “Help each other, help others, and be good citizens.” Rex pauses one more time, his voice wavering with emotion. “It truly has been an honor to serve alongside the finest men in the galaxy.”

The barrack of clones erupts with the sound of clapping and whistling. Rex takes in the moment before he puts up his hand to quiet the men and pull out his data-pad.

“A couple more things,” he begins while scrolling through a list. “Housing assignments have been allocated and your new addresses can be found on your identichips. The apartments are fully furnished, but you’ll have to buy your own clothes, food, and any extra comforts. Credit stipends will be automatically deposited monthly into your bank account until you gain employment. You can keep your armor, but they have asked that you not wear it in public. You are also allowed to own a single DC-17 hand blaster, but it must be registered with the Coruscant Police and tied to your identichips. Any questions?”

Hardcase raises his hand, a look of concern painting his face. “So, I can’t keep my Z-6?”

“No, you can’t,” Rex answers. “Anything that was considered infantry or heavy weaponry cannot be owned by civilians and must be turned in to the Coruscant Police. It was difficult enough to convince them to let us keep a single hand blaster.”

Hardcase plops onto his bunk and crosses his arms while grumbling to himself. That Z-6 was his best friend during the war and now he has to give it up. It really is a shame.

“Any other questions?” Rex asks as he scans the room. “Alright then. Get a good night's sleep and I’ll touch base with you in the morning.”

As Rex leaves the barracks, more chatter erupts amongst the clones. They are both excited and nervous to get their new lives started. The jitters are evident and no one is sure they can actually sleep tonight. They’re like children on Christmas Eve, wanting to stay up late and wait for their presents to arrive instead of sleeping. The anticipation is too much to contain. However, once curfew rolls around, the clones have to turn out the lights and at least try to go to sleep.

The clones all nestle into their bunks for one last night and fall into dreams of what their new lives will be like. Well, everyone that is except for Hardcase. He’s lying awake, staring up at the bunk above him and feeling restless. He’s still thinking about that bottle of green liquid Kix took away from him. He’s not sure what it is about that mysterious bottle that has him so enraptured. Maybe it’s the color, or the way the liquid moves from one end of the glass bottle to the other.

Unable to contain his curiosity, Hardcase decides he wants the bottle back. He waits a couple of hours, and when he hears some of his brothers snoring, he quietly gets out of his bunk and meanders his way to Kix’s bunk. Kix is sleeping on his stomach, one hand under his shirt and the other stretched out over his pillow, with his leg hanging off the side with the blanket falling off. Hardcase shakes his head. He’ll never understand how Kix finds that sleeping position comfortable.

He waves his hand near Kix’s face, checking to make sure he is asleep, then crouches down to look through his duffle. He quietly rummages around, being careful not to knock anything too far out of place, and eventually finds the little glass bottle of green liquid under a pack of gauze. He picks it up, smiles, and admires the bottle like it’s a precious jewel. He puts Kix’s duffle back together, brings the bottle back to his bunk, then looks around to make sure no one saw him.

Once he knows he’s alone and the only one awake, Hardcase pulls the cork off the top of the bottle and it makes a loud popping sound. He winces at the unexpected noise as it echoes through the barracks, then looks around to make sure no one woke up. He relaxes his shoulders and sighs when no one stirs. He looks into the glass bottle and swishes the green liquid around. It’s a shame to drink it when it’s so pretty, but he has to know what it tastes like.

“Bottoms up,” he whispers to himself. He knocks the drink back like a shot and swallows. His face scrunches at the bitter aftertaste and he makes an audible noise of disgust. “Yuck! Definitely not alcohol.”

Disappointed in the gross tasting drink, Hardcase flops back onto his bunk and sighs. He doesn’t feel any different, so it’s probably not poison. If he had to venture a guess, it’s probably some type of tribal medicine native to the planet Jesse got it from. Medicine is the only thing he’s ever tasted that matches that level of bitterness, and he hates medicine. He shutters at the residual taste in the back of his throat, then tucks himself into his bunk to finally go to sleep.

As dawn breaks and the light of the morning peeks into the barracks, Jesse stirs in his bunk. He stretches his limbs and yawns while sitting up, then breathes a contented sigh when he remembers that today is the day he’s a free man. He looks around the sunlit room and sees the rest of the clones stirring as their internal alarm clocks activate. Excited to get moving, he slides down the back ladder of the bunk, his bare feet hitting the barrack’s cold floor with a dull thud.

Jesse looks at Hardcase’s bunk, which sits right beneath his, but his brother is not in it. “Has anyone seen Hardcase?”

“Not since lights out,” Echo answers while stretching his arms.

“I haven’t seen him either,” Tup yawns.

“Got me,” Kix shrugs.

Out of the corner of his eye, Fives catches the blanket on Hardcase’s bunk move. “Did anyone else see that?”

“See what?” Dogma asks while rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

Fives stares at the blanket and watches it move again. He points his finger at the lump in the center. “That!”

“What do you think it is?” Jesse asks as he moves to stand next to Fives.

“I don’t know,” Fives tilts his head to the side as he thinks.

“Only one way to find out,” Echo says as he grabs the corner of the blanket and rips it off, revealing what is underneath.

“It’s a… frog?” Kix raises an eyebrow at Fives.

“Don’t look at me!” Fives puts up his hands in defense. “I didn’t put it there.”

“Guys, it’s me,” a voice says.

The group of clones whip around looking for the source of the voice.

“That sounds like Hardcase,” Jesse says. “But I don’t see him.”

“Down here,” the voice says.

Tup crouches down on the ground and looks under the bunk, but there’s no one there.

“Too far,” the voice says. “On the bunk.”

Tup slowly peeks up from his crouched position and looks at the frog sitting on the bunk. They stare at each other for a moment.

“Hey,” the frog says.

“Ah!” Tup startles and crashes backwards into the adjacent bunk. “That frog just talked!”

Dogma rolls his eyes. “Frogs don’t talk.”

“I'm telling you that frog talked,” Tup argues.

Jesse snorts. “Tup, I think you’ve lost a few marbles.”

“You're the one who’s lost his marbles,” the frog says as it jumps from the bunk onto Jesse’s arm.

“Ah!” Jesse jerks and flings the frog off his arm.

“Catch it!” Tup yells.

Kix catches the frog in his hands and examines it curiously. It looks like a regular bullfrog to him. Mottled olive-green mucus-covered skin, a dull-yellow belly, raised eyes, short little forelegs, and long-webbed hind legs. The only strange thing about this bullfrog is the blue lines going down the left side of its body. He’s never seen a bullfrog with blue stripes before, but then again, he doesn’t claim to be an expert in frog species. Kix brings the frog closer to his face to look at the lines.

“Hi Kix,” the frog says.

Kix startles and opens his hands, dropping the talking frog onto the floor of the barracks.

“Hey!” the frog says. “Watch it!”

Fives kneels down in front of the frog. “Hardcase?”

“Yeah, it’s me,” Hardcase sighs.

“You’re a frog!” Fives exclaims as he picks him up.

“I noticed,” Hardcase says.

“How is that even possible?” Echo questions in bewilderment.

“I don’t know,” Hardcase says. “I just woke up like this. I had a heck of a time trying to find my way out of that blanket though. Thanks.”

“Kix?” Dogma looks at the shocked medic for an explanation.

“Don’t ask me,” Kix raises his hands. “There’s nothing in the medical texts about clones turning into frogs.”

Jesse looks at the frog, that is Hardcase, and narrows his eyes. “What did you do?”

“What do you mean, ‘what did I do’?” Hardcase retorts as he jumps from Fives’ hands to Jesse’s.

Jesse cups his hands together to catch Hardcase. “Kix is right, clones don’t just turn into frogs,” he says. "What did you do?”

“Nothing!” Hardcase shouts. “I just woke up like this. I’m as lost as you are!”

Kix gets curious and looks around Hardcase’s bunk area. He rifles through his duffle bag and grabs the empty bottle. He takes a deep breath, straightens up, and crosses his arms. “You drank it.”

“Oh, yeah,” Hardcase chuckles nervously. “I forgot about that.”

Kix grabs Hardcase out of Jesse’s hands, encircling his fingers around Hardcase’s stomach as his long hind legs dangle down freely. He brings Hardcase’s little frog face close to his. “You idiot!"

“How was I supposed to know this would happen?” Hardcase argues as he squirms to escape Kix’s grasp.

Kix closes his eyes and rubs his forehead with his free hand. “If you would've waited one rotation, I could have done an analysis!”

“Oops,” Hardcase says.

“Oops?” Kix scowls. “That’s all you have to say for yourself, oops? You’re a kriffing frog!”

Hardcase tries to roll his eyes, then spits out his tongue and whacks Kix’s nose to shut him up.

Kix scrunches his face in disgust, pulls Hardcase away, and places him back in Jesse’s hands.

“He’s your problem now,” Kix says as he wipes the slime off of his nose.

“Me?” Jesse protests as he looks between Hardcase and Kix. “What am I supposed to do with him?”

“I don’t know,” Kix says. “Figure it out.”

“Can someone please explain to me what is going on?” Dogma asks in confusion. “I’m so lost.”

“Hardcase drank some weird liquid and it turned him into a frog,” Fives recounts.

Dogma takes a moment to digest Fives’ words. “You’re joking, right?”

“Wait!” Tup interjects. “I’ve heard about this before.”

Everyone turns to look at Tup. “You have?” the group asks in unison.

“Yes!” Tup says. “I read it in a holo-book once.”

“Since when do you read?” Dogma asks with a raised eyebrow. “I’ve never seen you read before.”

Tup shoots Dogma an unamused look. “I did when I was a cadet.”

“So, what did the holo-book say?” Jesse eagerly asks.

Tup thinks for a moment. “There were a couple different stories. I can’t remember if this is the one where he’ll turn into a pumpkin at midnight or fall asleep and never wake up. Either way he needs a true love’s kiss to turn him back into a human.”

Silence fills the room.

“Jesse?” Hardcase asks while looking up at him.

“Yes,” Jesse answers while looking down at him.

“I don’t like squash,” Hardcase says.

Jesse sighs. “Then we’ll hope for the ‘sleep and never wake up’ one.”

Hardcase turns to face Tup. “So, if I get a girl to kiss me, I’ll turn back into a man?”

“According to the stories,” Tup explains. “Except it can’t be any random kiss. It has to be a true love’s kiss.”

“What’s the difference?” Hardcase asks.

Tup knits his eyebrows. “Not really sure to be honest.”

“Amateurs,” Fives says. “True love is when you love someone more than anyone else.”

“Oh,” Hardcase says. “I still don’t get it.”

Fives sighs. “You need to get a girl to fall in love with you.”

“In three days!” Tup interjects.

Fives nods his head. “Yes, in three day– Wait, what?”

“I think,” Tup says. “That might have been the seafoam story.”

“Can we focus on the frog story please?” Jesse says with exasperation.

“Does it really matter?” Hardcase asks. 

“Yes, it matters!” Jesse exclaims. “We don’t need you dying on us!”

The room goes silent at the words that everyone is thinking, but no one wants to say. As funny as the situation is, they really have no idea what will happen to him and it has them all worried. They're finally free men, but that freedom won’t mean much if one of them is missing from it. They can’t replace Hardcase and they don’t want to think about enjoying their new lives without him. Regardless of how dumb his action was, they all need to work together to try and save him.

“I think we should tell Rex,” Echo says. “Maybe he can–”

“Maybe he can do what?” Dogma interjects. “Look it up in a reg manual?”

Echo huffs. “I’m just trying to be helpful.”

“And we appreciate it,” Kix places a hand on Echo’s shoulder. “I agree with him. The next course of action is to tell Rex and then work together to turn him back to normal.”

As Kix finishes his sentence, Rex enters the barracks. The group of clones mumble amongst themselves on how they’ll break the news to their captain that one of his men is no longer a man, but a frog. It sounds like a joke, and maybe it is, but this is their reality at the moment and lying is not an option. They think about hiding Hardcase and telling Rex at a later time, but they can’t come up with a good excuse as to why he isn’t in the barracks and where he is.

“Morning,” Rex happily greets the clones with a smile.

Jesse hides Hardcase behind his back.

“Morning, captain,” Kix says.

Rex chuckles. “It’s just Rex now.”

“Oh, right,” Kix rubs his neck in embarrassment. “That’s gonna be an adjustment.”

“Are you boys ready to check out your new home?” Rex asks with excitement.

The room stays silent.

Rex furrows his brows. “Don’t everyone jump up at once…”

The room is still silent.

Rex puts his hands on his hips. “Alright, spit it out. What’s going on?”

“We have a slight problem,” Fives says.

Rex sighs. “What did you do this time?”

“It wasn’t Fives,” Echo answers quickly.

“Well, that’s a surprise,” Rex mumbles under his breath. “Then what is it?”

Jesse brings his hands around from his back to show Rex the frog.

Rex is confused. “Okay… It’s a frog. I don’t get it.”

“Hi Rex,” Hardcase says.

Rex jumps. “Kriffing stars! Did that thing just talk?”

“That thing,” Kix begins, “is Hardcase.”

“What?!” Rex asks, his mouth hung open in shock.

The group of clones explain to Rex the events leading up to this point. Rex listens intently, but maintains a bewildered expression on his face. He’s not surprised at Hardcase’s actions, but he’s not once in his life ever heard of a man changing into a frog. He wonders if the green bottle of liquid was some kind of magic potion. Unfortunately, Jesse can’t remember which planet it came from, so researching it is out. Rex ends up agreeing with the only other option, true love’s kiss.

“First things first,” Rex starts. “Let’s get moved out of the barracks and into our new apartments. Then we can strategize a plan of attack.”

The group of clones nod in agreement and disperse to grab their belongings. Jesse puts Hardcase down on his bunk while he grabs his things.

“Oh, and Hardcase,” Rex squats down to look Hardcase in his little frog eyes. “Don’t get squashed in the meantime.”

“Yes, sir,” Hardcase sighs.

Chapter 1

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