#texan reader

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

hi! can i request ken x (male) reader who’s from texas and breaking ken’s idea of the patriarchy (mostly the realities of cowboy life lol) thank you!!

"Now what're you supposed to be, a cowboy or somethin'? Because it looks like you're goin' to a fashion show upstate."

Blinking owlishly, Ken spun around on his heels, coming face-to-face with you. He looked at your clothing up and down, noting you had a hat similar to his, along with ripped jeans, cowboy boots, and a buttoned plaid shirt.

His eyebrows furrowed with confusion, not seeing an apparent difference.

Nevertheless, he realized you were another human male who was trying to talk to him, and he was excited! This was his big chance to learn more about the patriarchy of the Real World!

But he didn't wanna let his eagerness show too much, so he leaned against a nearby pillar, keeping the books tucked against his side.

"Nah, I ain't goin' to no fashion show....partner..." He made a poor attempt at mimicking your accent, which he noted was heavily Southern, and it took all your willpower not to laugh your ass off.

Yet you couldn't help chuckling anyways, which made the blond pout as he adjusted the brim of his hat. "Awh I'm only teasin'." You shook your head. "I will say it does fit ya pretty good. Haven't seen anything like that back in Texas."

"...oh really? Thanks!" He put a big smile back on, trying to sound cool and casual. "Sounds like a fun place. I'm just here..seeing what this world's all about...getting accustomed to the patriarchy. Man, I wish Barbie told me about-"

"Hold on..." You stopped him in his tracks, being perplexed by several things he just said. "What about the patriarchy? You act as though it's a lifestyle-"

"Is it not? Because I see it all around us!" He spread his arms out. "It's incredible! Everything's backwards but yet...I'm just amazed! This world caters to us men!" Then he stepped closer, showing you the books in his hands depicting studies of horses and patriarchy, a sparkle in his eye. "Look, these books have already taught me so much!"

You blinked, taking one of them and frowning as you recognized the barcode as being from the school your cousin attended. "Ya realize you stole these from a school library, right-?"

"Back in Barbieland, we Kens had none of this stuff!!" He ignored your remark, yanking the book from your hands as he continued to babble on and on and how "awesome" the patriarchy is while pointing to a nearby horse statue.

He's acting as though this was the first time he's ever heard of it, firmly believing that it's all about men and horses.

That would've convinced you that this guy was either insane or living under a rock all his life....had he not mentioned "Barbieland", "Barbie", and "Ken".

'As in...the dolls my little cousins played with?' You pondered. 'Well it would certainly explain the outlandish outfit..and how it doesn't look like any lights are on upstairs...'

"So.." You cleared your throat, he was quick to shut up and let you continue, blinking as you offered your hand. "Before I forget...the name's [y/n]. A pleasure to meet ya."

He studied your gesture intensely, before putting forth his manliest handshake possible, his eyes lighting up when you laughed and complimented his strong grip. "And I'm Ken, the pleasure's all mine."

"Yeah, I figured."

"Well, [y/n]. You seem to embody everything a human man is, so...you got any advice for a fellow man who only just recently learned of all these great luxuries?" He raised an eyebrow.

You thought about it for a few moments, letting his hand go as your gaze went back to the books tucked under his arm. "Yeah, uh..for one, ya seem to be holdin' onto this "idea" that patriarchy's all about the horses. I hate to break it to ya....but it ain't that simple."

"....wait, it's not..?" He blinked in bewilderment, looking to the books and frowning. "Are you sure? Because these books told me-"

"They're outdated an' used for history projects at school. They don't accurately showcase modern cowboy culture, which is what ya seem to be enthralled with."

"...these don't???" His voice became higher-pitched, becoming utterly devastated that he was lied to. "But if it's not about horses..then...then what about the statues, hm? And those officers riding them?!"

"Ken..in this world anybody can ride a horse if they wanted to. You just happen to see more guys than gals doin' it."

"Oh..."

"Look, it's true that more men are in charge of stuff here in LA, but the patriarchy is really just a messy system that harms both sides." You frowned slightly. "It ain't somethin' I'd wanna idolize."

"...but why?"

You sighed, unsure of how you could possibly dumb it down for him even further. "'cuz it's turned some of my own friends and family into vile dirtbags who think the world owes them everything. I'd hate to see ya fall down that same pipeline."

He nodded in slight understanding, but seemed rather sad as he hugged the books to his chest, feeling like his dreams were shattered just as he began to realize them..

"I thought it was just like Barbieland..."

"Ya'll got a matriarchy there?"

"...I guess..? They write all the constitutions and stuff."

"And...how do they treat ya?"

"Like we're accessories." Ken huffed, eyebrows knitted together in frustration. "They aren't terrible, but...I only have a good day when Barbie looks at me..which...hasn't been happening lately. I was thinking if I could show her the cool horses and stuff...she'll see me differently. See me for the man I can be."

You never expected for this conversation to derail into you trying to resolve a doll's identity crisis, but it's clear he was holding onto the misconception that the "Real World" was just opposite of Barbieland--where men had it all here and ruled without flaw.

That was far from the truth.

"Now changin' yourself for a lady isn't what ya wanna do, son." You patted his shoulder, causing him to look up at you in astonishment. "You're good enough as you are. But I take it that deep down...ya just care about the horses?"

He nodded again.

"Then..how about instead of reading this misleading garbage--" You tapped the binder of one of the books "--ya talk to someone who's lived the authentic cowboy life? Somebody with experience?"

Looking all around, he seemed confused for a moment, before his gaze returned to yours. "Like....you?"

"Yup."

"Isn't being a man and wearing this not enough?"

"It's a wee bit more complicated than that. It's hard work. But if you're interested in that sort of life, I can tell ya all about it." You offered, smiling as you watched the grin return to his face.

"I'd love that. Now if I don't need these stupid books, then I'll just--" He went to toss the stack into the nearest trash bin, but you were quick to intervene.

"Hey, hey, hey! Ya can't just throw away school property like that!"

"...but you just called this "garbage"."

"It's a figure of speech, Ken." Sighing, you just shook your head, taking the books off his hands. "You'll learn a lot about that here. Let's just go return these and I'll tell ya all about my life back in Texas. Whatever ya wanna know, I'll do my best to answer."

Ken's eyes shimmered at the prospect of hanging out with another guy..like all the other humans he's seen. That's all he truly wanted, really--just to bond with someone and not be in some aggressive rivalry unlike what he had with the other Kens.

He's lucky he ran into you.

"Can I ask something now?"

"Sure..if it's less than ten words." You humored him.

"Do..you..own..horses..? That's four." He grinned, counting on his fingers just to be sure of it.

"I do. Poor things couldn't take the dry heat of Texas, so they came along with me in a truck. I'll show ya pictures after we return these books."

Ken nodded eagerly, unable to hide his excitement as he followed you back to the library, ready to learn more about your culture.

[aikoiya]

I imagine she'd light up an intruder real quick.

Also, "bless your pea-pickin' heart" can be used as a show of genuine sympathy, if not a bit of pity. Like, "oh, you poor, sweet, summer child."

I see her calling him Sugar & Jinx Sweetpea.

Imagine her with Cleetus McFarland levels of practical engineering ingenuity.

Omg I’m so sorry for the vagueness! I was thinking of regular flavored silco with an SO who is from the general southern region of the United States (for example: an SO from Texas, Georgia, Louisiana, etc.). Basically just our favorite rat man with a country girl ;) again I’m so sorry for the confusion! <3

no no no! no worries! that's what i thought! also guessin’ you want generic stereotypical boots wearing, don't mind getting dirty type country girl? yeehaw

that accent does things to him. he doesn't understand half of the idioms you use (and my goodness you use a lot) but your body language and intonation fills in the blanks.

talk dirty to him with that southern drawl when he’s about to cum.

“well bless your pea picking heart”

google doesn’t exist and he’s never ventured far from zaun, so how is he supposed to know it’s a colloquialism of condescension and not endearment? intent is everything but more often than not what you really mean is “you’re so fucking stupid.”

over time he does pick up your mannerisms. they don’t mix with his natural vocabulary but sometimes he’ll say something like “this isn’t my first rodeo.” he’s so smug about it, giving you the side eye.

he’s never ridden a horse in his life. piltover has horses. zaun does not. you try to get him up on a horse and you’re going to shatter his hip.

SOUTHERN HOSPLITALITY. it’s second nature to use manners. “thank ya kindly” and etc. he tells you not to waste your time with that in zaun and u thank him kindly to step off.

you’re fucking trad wife material. yes u do the cooking. yes u do the cleaning. yes u keep that nana real sweet for his eating.

you’re not afraid of a hard day’s worth of labor. you’ll roll up your sleeves, spit in your hands, and do what it takes to get the work done. that’s what makes you fit in perfectly with other zaunites.

[sky-is-the-limit]

P: Phillip Graves x 141!F!Reader

TW: CNC (kinda?), Breeding kink (kinda?)

WC: 979 words

Summary: The Shadows captured you during the 'Alone' mission and Graves just can't resist a pretty soldier like yourself, wink wink 🫶

Phillip Graves loomed over you, his taunting words slicing through the thick haze of your mind while his breath, heavy and tainted with the scent of tobacco, fanned across your face when he leaned closer.

"What would your dear Captain say if he could see you like this, hm?" He mocked with cruel amusement.

The table creaked beneath you, protesting the relentless force of his thrusts. Each brutal stroke sent a wave of heat crashing through your body, the obscene slap of skin on skin filling the air, the sound embarrassingly loud in the otherwise silent space across the illegally occupied base.

You were unraveling, each movement making you crack further, your voice reduced to a litany of breathless whimpers and filthy swears.

Every shred of dignity you had was gone, replaced by the raw, animalistic need he had ignited in you.

You were a traitor. First to your team, then to your Captain and now to yourself. Being captured by the Shadows had been out of your control but this? This dark, twisted pleasure that you found in Graves’ midnight visits? This was your fault. Entirely.

Every time he cornered you, pressing you against the cold walls of your cell, you spat venom at him, swore that you hated him, that you didn’t want his touch. But he always laughed, a low, humiliating reminder of your position before forcing you to face the reality.

The truth that, deep down, in the wicked, most corrupted corners of your being, you wanted this. Ever since he was assigned to assist the task force with El Sin Nombre, he was all you could think about.

Graves thrusted into you again, his brutal pace driving you to the edge, making your body betray you even more as you whimpered and pleaded beneath him with fists clenching at the air, desperate for something to hold onto.

"Maybe I should record you looking like a fucking mess and send it to the asshole-" The older man threatened, his grip tightening on your jaw as he pulled out, the wet sound echoing in the room before slamming back into you, filling you completely.

Your toes curled, ankles trembling as they squeezed around his thighs, his broad, drenched in sweat chest a searing sun against your own. He was immovable, relentless, and it felt like he would go on forever, leaving you with no hope of restoring whatever was left of the person you were before that damned mission in Mexico.

"You love it when I'm using your pretty little cunt, don't you?" He sneered, thick with arrogance. "You love big, bad Commander Graves corrupting every single part of you—fucking hell, look at you.''

You couldn’t deny it, not when your body reacted to his every word, tensing up in response even as you shook your head, tears spilling down your cheeks.

He pushed deeper, harder, his cock brushing against your cervix with each punishing slap. It was heaven and hell, twisted together in the only way Graves knew how to give. Too much and not enough, all at once.

All you could feel was him, every inch of him stretching you out, grazing those most sensitive spots that had you teetering on the edge of delirium.

He was so thick, each slam driving you closer and closer to the brink and your cries only seemed to spur him on, his pace quickening as he pushed with such force that the wooden surface was promised to create lines against the wall behind.

"I'm gonna ruin you, sweetheart." Graves declared, pride drowning in each syllable as his Southern drawl growed heavier with each word.

The promise in his tone made your breath hitch, your heart pounding in your chest as the implication of his words sank in and you knew he meant it, it was sharply defined in the blue fire of his gaze.

"I'm gonna cum inside you, again and again, until you're ruined for anyone else."

The very idea of it, of being marked, claimed, and consumed by him entirely, sent you into a spiral before your arms instinctively tightened around his neck, pulling him closer as if to brace yourself for what was to come.

Naturally, Graves took it as a challenge, a sign to plunge into you even further and your mind went numb, completely overtaken by the sensation and your hips began moving on their own, desperately meeting his ruthless assaults against them.

For a moment, he paused, savoring the way your body reacted to him before his hands moved to the back of your knees, lifting them to rest on his broad shoulders. The new angle had you gasping, the stretch so deep, so overwhelming, that it felt like he was splitting you in two.

Phillip didn’t hold back, he mounted you completely, his toned body towering over you as he began fucking you with a frantic, almost feral intensity.

The surface beneath you made a sound that resonated with you, a loud warning that it would break. You could feel yourself falling apart, every muscle in your body tightening as he pushed you further and further into a state of utter submission and humiliation in the filthy, cold cell.

"You're gonna carry me with you until your last fucking day." The Commander spat out with a sinister smirk, his hips snapping against yours with such precision that sent you over the edge, your body responding with a raw, uncontrollable spasm that made your vision white.

You were his, completely and utterly and there was no escaping the hold he had over you.

[bengals-barnesbabe]

Open Practice

Pairing: CJ Stroud X Black!FemReader

Description: Football players, in your experience, are either childish, toxic or horrible communicators; your ex just so happened to be all of the above. But it’s been a few years and people can change. Or will a certain qb decide to pick up the pieces your ex left behind?

Warnings: Toxic Ex!Brevin Jordan

Word Count: 800+

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

Walking into NRG Park felt odd. You’ve been to a football stadium before but not before noon or because your ex-boyfriend invited you to his open practice. Your relationship was like open practice actually, you practiced being the best girlfriend and he liked being open, for everyone.

Texas was huge, they were right when they said everything’s bigger in Texas. Including egos, you realized when you received a text from Brevin minutes after tagging Houston in your story.

From: No Air Jordan 🏈

Hey baby, heard you were in my city😁 Swing by tmr’s practice and watch me cook then I’ll show ya around 😉

You honestly thought he must’ve taken too many shots to the head, your breakup consisted of a few long texts and pure ignorance so you assumed he got the idea. Yet here you are sitting in the bleachers of the Houston stadium. You wandered around for a total of 15 minutes searching for somewhere to sit. Brevin only sent the one text so you had no idea where to go or where he even was. You almost left and forgot about him but a player in a #7 jersey stopped you.

“Excuse me, are you okay?” Damn dreads, pretty eyes and perfect ass lips.

“Oh yeah, I’m fine. I was invited by someone on the team, but he’s not replying to me. So I was just gonna go.” You replied sheepishly.

“That’s cool, but if you want you could come over to my section. We’ll be done in about an hour and the view’s better over here.” He smiled.

He was cute, smooth and nothing like B, exactly your type. “Yea, I think I’d like that..”

“Oh sorry, I’m CJ. Quarterback.” Team leader = good communication. Noted.

“Y/n.” A whistle went off and grabbed CJ’s attention. “I guess that means ‘back to work.”

“Yea, we’ll talk after practice.” He flashed his award-winning smile once more then jogged back to center field. I’m definitely staying.

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Watching CJ- the Texans practice was actually pretty fun, you never could pay attention during their real games because of the boisterous crowd, but here on the secluded practice field you could actually focus on the players and didn’t have large men yelling in your ears.

Truth be told CJ looked electric out there. Everything he did lit up the light crowd, which makes sense with all his clean complete passes. His offense was ten times better than their defense, which sucks when it comes to game time, but what can you do?

Every once in a while he’d look back at our section and smile, just for a moment you let yourself believe it’s you he’s looking at.

Unbeknownst to you and Stroud, Brevin also noticed how he was looking in your direction. His face would tense up and for each play he’d ignore all instructions and go after the quarterback. Since he was on defense it wasn’t that long of a stretch between his duties and his actions, but he got pancaked after every attempt.

By the time practice was over, your ex was even more angered than before thanks to the amount of bruises he accumulated over the last two hours. Then he saw you and CJ talking, suddenly all his anger was justified.

=͟͟͞͞♡

“I really enjoy talking to you Y/n. Is there any way I can persuade you into joining me in getting a bite to eat?” You lightly bit your bottom lip, the corners curling upwards at his question.

“I would love that-

“I hope you know she hates barbecue, and she don’t do relationships especially with athletes.” The voice of your emotionally incompetent egomaniac ex boyfriend interrupts you from afar.

Rolling your eyes you decide to pay him no mind and just turn back to the nice guy in front of you. “As I was saying, lunch sounds great.”

Then Brevin inserts himself again, now only the field barricade separates you. “You should know who you’re getting involved with CJ, they call her Jennifer because she’s a maneater.” He wears a mischievous grin and defensive stance.

You scoff, “a maneater who’s only here because my loser ex boyfriend slid in my DMs the second I got to Texas. A maneater that was thinking about maybe hearing you out after our relationship went wrong. Even better, a maneater that was nothing but faithful to your misogynistic womanizer ass.”

“If I’m such a misogynistic womanizer why did you come?” He smirks thinking he finally got one over you.

“I heard your quarterback was way bigger than you, so I had to come check that out.” He flared his nostrils, and stormed off the field, but not before spiking his helmet.

“Jordan you’re getting fined for that!”

CJ chuckles to himself, impressed at the way you handled him. “Did you mean it?” He smirked.

You lean over the barricade and breathily whisper in his ear. “Every word.”

Then pull back to watch his face as he sucks his plump bottom lip into his mouth.

“Let’s get outta here.”

~

Walking out of NRG Park felt odd. Not because of unsatisfying BJ, but because it was the first time you’ve walked out of a football stadium and enjoyed the outcome of events.

┊┊❁ཻུ۪۪♡ ͎. ｡˚ °

A/N: this sat in my drafts for too long, but I’m overcoming my posting anxiety and letting it see the light. Also I hit 100 followers🤭 tysm babes.

Main Masterlist

[ohraicodoll]

Monsters

Joel Miller x f!Reader The Last of Us (show/game) 4.8K Words (3rd POV) Summary: Two broken people clash. “Even when he hated her presence, it stirred something deep in his belly to see her spitting and angry at the world. Like a confirmation that only the cruel survived. That if something sweet like her had turned into a monster then he shouldn’t have expected better for himself. Permission. He was justified in his edges and bitterness.” Warning: Depictions of graphic violence Part I | Part II

Ellie had told him that the woman had been trying to be a singer before the world went to hell. He hadn’t asked, because he never asked, but had learned it the way most information came from the young girl. Rushed and mostly to fill the silence between them when she wasn’t being entertained. He didn’t care about before because that world was over so why did it matter- who they were before- but he could see it in his mind sometimes.

She would have been young, a lot younger than him by a decade at least, and soft skinned with bright eyes and an eagerness to share something beautiful. An artist type with her voice as the brush. He knew that type well. When he was younger, he’d wanted to be a musician too. Had learned to play the guitar, played a few gigs to keep himself occupied while Tommy went off to the army trying to be a hero. Met a girl that way though it all came screeching to a halt when she got knocked up and then quickly dipped when Sarah was young. There was no time for guitar and dreams while raising an infant as a single father. He had just been an average joe then. Not too smart, not too many goals, but good with his hands and at building things. The only job he was qualified for. He hadn’t had time for beauty or art when he’d been too busy trying to pay the bills, keep his brother out of trouble fresh from discharge, and his daughter fed and taken care of. Now neither of them had time for that. It was only about survival and this teenage girl tethering them together. The mission. The woman, who Ellie had taken to calling Red for some reason he wasn’t paying attention to, wasn’t soft skinned anymore and probably hadn’t been for a long time. She was all bared teeth, sharp edges, and brutality. A bobcat whose first instinct was to tear and shred rather than be gentle. That’s how he first saw Red.

They’d been clearing an old building for the night to possibly stay in and had stumbled upon a group who’d camped the area, knowing what a prime location it was. Scavengers, vultures picking off whoever came through and taking what they could. There’d been a good number of them and Joel was only one man with a highly valuable ward so he did the rational thing and ran. Ellie had stumbled badly, falling behind in the blink of an eye. He’d cursed at himself later and reamed himself a new one at the fact he didn’t keep her in front of him. It was an amateur mistake and he wasn’t an amateur. The scavenger that had been persistently tailing them had been there fast, machete raised, still pissed at the blow the girl had landed on him earlier. Quicker than he could raise his own arm and shoot the guy Red had come barreling from a side room, swinging a metal bat so hard into the guy's head it dented. All teeth, growling like a goddamn animal, bashing the bat over and over into his head until it was nothing but pulp. Breathing hard, her eyes met his and it was like looking into a mirror. Hollow and broken and rage. Even when he hated her presence, it stirred something deep in his belly to see her spitting and angry at the world. Like a confirmation that only the cruel survived. That if something sweet like her had turned into a monster then he shouldn’t have expected better for himself. Permission. He was justified in his edges and bitterness. She’d helped Ellie and gotten them out, her choice made after seeing the asshole go after the girl. It took all night to get out of the city limits and far enough it was safe enough to rest. Then the damn kid got attached. She refused to go on without the woman after only one night, no matter how much Joel growled at her absolutely not. Red didn’t have anyone, was just surviving from one night to the next. The heavy implication that there had been a group, had been other people, once hung in the silence. And against his best wishes, Joel agreed if only to get the kid moving though he kept an eye on the woman diligently for at least a couple weeks.

They both didn’t like each other at first, but she looked after the girl and it helped having someone look over his shoulder after Tess… But she wasn't the smuggler who had been all broken edges and selfishness. Red didn’t give a shit about herself to a fault, so selfless at times it felt like it was a punishment or a goddamn death wish. Like she hated herself. She used her body like a weapon and made Ellie her sole priority as if she had nothing left tethering her to life until she saved the girl. He reasoned that it made his job easier, but if anything it made him more on edge watching her throw herself into every fight like a rabid animal with no care for her own safety. Joel reasoned that it was because seeing another person die would make Ellie harder to manage, but he wasn’t so sure. He wondered who she had lost to act that way and then he shoved that thought into the back of his mind because he didn’t care about her enough to wonder that. As the days went on, he could see the leftover marks from the world before and the person she used to be, small whispers of that bright eyed girl. A small tattooed “Love ya” in someone’s handwriting on her inner arm. Dainty flowers on her ankle. Stars on little strings under her collar bone. What you would expect a young woman to get if there weren’t an apocalypse. When she pissed him off, he called her Starshine mockingly, unable to see something so small and lighthearted without turning it bitter. She called him Tex after Ellie had spilled that’s where he was from. He hadn’t been able to hide the wince at the name so she kept at it like a bird pecking at an open wound. The memory of Tess's voice calling him that late at night had long since merged with her wide scared eyes as he left her to die. It flashed in his mind every time. It made him hate her more, but the anger kept him focused. Starshine. Tex. The pain was a revolving door. Red protected her bag religiously. It held everything that she owned, the only remnants of that life before. A small mixtape cassette of music, a couple of pictures, a pair of keys that were rusted and useless, a journal. He’d seen her damn near behead a guy who had attempted to rip it off her and she hadn’t stopped hacking away until she was soaked in blood and panting. It was the one time Ellie had been scared of her. Joel had been impressed. All teeth. She didn’t speak for days after that. That softness wasn’t completely gone though, just buried underneath thick callus-like skin. Sometimes he could catch it peeking through. When they’d happened upon a stream, she’d forced Ellie to wash her hair and he’d watched as Red helped her lean her hair back into the water and had even laughed when the girl swung it to splash her. She’d sat behind Ellie later on and combed through the long mess, complaining the kid was letting it get matted. Then she’d rolled her eyes when Ellie had complained in turn about Red’s aggressive brushing. She could handle people trying to kill her constantly but not getting her tangles brushed out. Joel had watched them out of the corner of his eye, warm coffee in his hands, and simply shook his head. The kid liked her and it kept Ellie from pestering him constantly, though he was finding he didn’t mind it as much. She would take turns asking them questions whether they be about the world or how things worked or their lives before. Sometimes she simply liked to read things out loud from her dumb joke book to whatever books she’d grab. It was the few times he saw Red crack a smile, her hand on Ellie’s bag to keep the girl moving forward and making sure she didn’t trip on anything while distracted. He was minding them both less and less. When they’d gone through a store, Red’s fingers had trailed over the tops of old records lovingly, wistfully. Joel had watched her linger for a second and the way her eyes had lightened, her lips pressed together as if she were remembering. When she caught him staring, her hand had snatched away and the light had sputtered out before she kept going. He’d resisted going over and seeing what records she had touched, finding the spots in the dust hers had made. One time after having found two whole bottles of booze and a safe enough spot to breathe, they’d both gotten drunk after Ellie had passed out. It’d been a hard day of travel and they had needed it. Joel hadn’t had alcohol in months and his tolerance had diminished, the liquor hitting him harder than it had in a while. She’d mentioned a younger sister and a guy named Harry and he didn’t have to wonder who she had lost anymore. The name burned in his belly along with the taste of the alcohol and he imagined someone handsome and young, maybe the owner of the “love ya” handwriting. He didn’t ask questions, didn’t pry to see how long that wound had been there. His own was twenty years old and still festering. Hell, there was a new one just a few months old. They’d switched to other topics. Music mostly, Texas, the Fireflies. Nothing too personal, but holding tiny glimpses of themselves. She’d fallen asleep first and his eyes had traced the tiny stars too many times to count, hand gripping the bottle of liquor to keep from reaching out. They both learned each other’s patterns. Months of traveling together, working together to keep Ellie safe, had given her the ability to read what he wanted without him even saying it. Survival did that. Flank left, check around the corner right, keep back with Ellie while he cleared the rooms. He trusted her to take care of the girl, but that selfless tendency sometimes reared its ugly head…except Joel didn’t know when things changed. When it stopped being a pain in the ass for him and instead drove high keeling panic through his body. The sun was getting low and they’d unintentionally come too close to what seemed like a fortified cabin. The owners had been out and stumbled upon them, a case of the wrong people at the wrong time, and Joel knew instantly what type of people these were. Not just preppers like Bill, but kill-first-zero-hesitation survivalists. Apparently simply knowing of the safe house’s location was a death sentence and they’d attacked before he could process. Joel had a guy in a chokehold, squeezing so tight he could hear the distinct crack of bones splintering. There’d been four, the first easy enough to take care of but while Red was finishing him, another was headed towards Ellie and had managed to hit her. The woman had thrown herself at him, literally, clinging onto his back and driving her knife over and over into his chest. But he wasn’t going down so easily and had grabbed onto her arm in turn, trapping her there. She didn’t see the fourth guy walking up with his gun trained. Didn’t see that she was seconds from being another name on the list of people who had died in Joel’s life. But he had. White hot panic shot through his chest and he hadn’t thought, hadn’t even grabbed the pistol that had fallen to the ground. Joel lunged, gunshot ringing through his ear, and tackled the man. Blood warmed his skin as he punched over and over and over again. He hadn’t needed a bat to do the same damage she had done that first time, he was a weapon himself and even as bone fragments embedded in his hands, skin caved, and brain matter splattered all over the ground he destroyed whatever was left of the man underneath him. “Joel!” her fervent whisper shot through him and the sound of his name, not just Tex, finally got him to stop, breathing hard. In the dying sun, he could see her perfectly standing next to him. Like starshine. Still alive, the barest graze of a bullet on her shoulder. But she was okay and Ellie was okay and the man was dead. And she wasn't afraid of him, sitting atop the mutilated corpse that he had done with his own hands. “You okay?” she asked and he wanted to laugh because she was asking him? But he nodded gruffly and attempted to stand, only pausing when she offered him a hand equally covered in blood. She used to be a singer. He’d be a musician. Now they were matching monsters. For some reason, seeing her blood soaked hand in his irked him. She hadn’t been paying attention to herself and was only focused on getting the guy away from Ellie. It was careless and remembering seeing the gun raised at her irritated him even more. “You damn near almost got killed, Starshine,” Joel growled, his anger finding its usual target, “You’re lucky I managed to get to him in time and all you got was a graze instead of your brains splattered all over the damn floor.” “I was protecting Ellie,” Red bit out, hackles raised, “I’m sorry, I thought that was the point? Would you rather I make sure her ass stays alive or mine?” He grit his teeth together and clenched his fists, the pain shooting up from the torn skin helping keep him grounded. The answer should have been easy. Ellie, always. She was the cargo, the whole reason behind this journey. But the fact he couldn’t make himself reply, wasn’t satisfied with either option, made him turn his back and walk towards the house in silence. He didn’t like what that meant. They could see why the group had wanted to protect the small cabin. It was a goldmine and if they didn’t have a goal, a mission, Joel would have loved to keep fixing the place up and stay there for the rest of his life. They had their own generators, a high concrete fence, a water well, and even a small farm behind the house. They even had electricity and running hot water. It was a goddamn oasis in the middle of the forest, a more rustic smaller version of what Bill and Frank had. After clearing the whole place, it was decided they all would stay at least a day or two. It was safe enough and that would give them all time to rest, restock, and breathe before continuing on to Wyoming. It was a luxury and there was no sense not taking advantage of that. 

Ellie had happily raced through the whole house, digging through the previous occupants' belongings as if she hadn’t just witnessed all four of them get massacred. She flipped through their books, went through the pantries, and even shouted happily to Red at the discovery of a radio and collection of tapes. She’d paused only to scrunch up her nose, looking at the two adults, “Actually, you both should take showers first. You both need it so I’ll go last.” Joel had looked down, blood and mud covering his arms and pants while Red’s torso and hands were crimson as well. Now that the adrenaline was seeping from his body, the sting of his knuckles were making themselves known. He nodded his head at the woman, brow furrowed, “You can take a shower in the Master. I’m gonna take stock of all their shit and use the hallway one.” For once, Red didn’t argue, only pressed her lips tightly together and nodded before heading down to where they’d discovered the large master bedroom. She was usually quick to argue about being told what to do, but Joel tried not to think too much about it and chalked it up to exhaustion. The hot water was a godsend for his bunch up muscles though it stung like hell on his wounds. Hands pressed against the shower wall, he let the water run over his skin and wash away all the blood away. The murky rust colored water swirled and disappeared down the drain and though his brain told him to be efficient, clean and get in and out, he allowed him a small bit of time to stand there and zone out. There’d been a fixed up jeep in a makeshift garage out back. They could tear every salvageable supply from the cabin, fill it up, and finally make it to Wyoming in record time instead of the weeks, months, it’d been taking walking there. A couple days to rest and they’d be on their way. But with a plan set, his mind inevitably went to the woman he’d just butchered a man to protect. It hadn’t been like that moment with Ellie, standing in front of the FEDRA soldier. That night his mind had disappeared, seeing the light of the gun and knowing there was a young girl behind him that was the same age Sarah had been made him flashback to that moment. He’d been there again, but different. More brutal, more capable. He wouldn’t let her get hurt again. No, this was different. Pure instinct had taken over his body and he hadn’t thought at all. Ellie hadn’t been the one in danger, Red had, but the reaction had been visceral. He hadn’t wanted her name to end up on that list of people Joel couldn’t save. Hell, he didn’t even know her real name. No one to mourn her but him and the kid. Running a hand over his face, he finished washing up and turned the water off, not wanting to take all the heat before Ellie could get cleaned up. His muscles had loosened but that only let every ache and soreness seep in, his knuckles a mess of skin and small fragments of bone stabbed in. They were going to smart for a while and he needed to get the splinters out. Joel threw on a loose shirt and clean pair of jeans, water dripping from his damp hair even as he tried to comb it back. He’d seen a small suture kit in the master bedroom with some tweezers. Cursing himself for not grabbing it, he left the bathroom and barely missed being bulldozed over as Ellie ran in, “my turn!” He frowned as the door slammed shut loudly in her eagerness, shaking his head at the teenager and sighing. Red had to still be in the shower so that would give him enough time to grab the kit from the bedroom and try to clean up his hand. Most of the fragments were in his right hand, his dominant one, and it was gonna be a bitch to get out. The master bedroom was more like a stockpile than what it previously was. All the outer windows had been boarded up, the only entrance to the house being the front door. Racks of fabric, supplies, all sorts lined the walls. Nothing decorative, purely functional. Turning to the bathroom door to make sure it was still shut, Joel went over and found the shelf of First Aid supplies and rifled through until he came across the small kit. No alcohol, but there was some ointment and bandages so better than nothing. “Shoulda just used the gun,” Red’s voice was soft despite the words and he turned, finding her leaning against the open door frame in nothing but a towel. Steam poured from the entryway, light reflecting off the mist and surrounding her almost in a glow. She looked cleaner than he’d ever seen, skin shiny and hair sticking to her neck. The little tattooed stars winked at him even from across the room. He forgot how quiet she could be sometimes. “You rather I take three seconds to find my gun in the dark and let you get shot or deal with a busted hand?” Joel bit out gruffly, hand clenching reflexively though he wasn’t sure if it was out of pain or because he wanted to trace the long line of her bare neck. She didn’t reply, arms crossed over her torso before padding over and grabbing the kit from his hands. Her face was never relaxed, lips always pressed together in a slight purse and brows lowered. A line between her eyes was beginning to develop, the apocalypse wearing and tearing her down like the rest of them. He wondered if she had been a smiler when she was younger and shared her music but then clamped down on that thought. “Sit,” Red bit out though she accompanied it by shoving a hand against his chest, forcing him to take a seat on the edge of the bed. His own brows furrowed into a hard line, back stiff, at the none too gentle movement though his mouth went dry for an entirely different reason as she kneeled in front of him. He could see the little stars up close, peering down at her as she shoved her way between his knees on the floor. She smelled of soap and something floral which had his brain confused because it didn’t fit her. Maybe the her before, but not the one soaked in blood that usually was at his side. She grabbed his hand in her’s without even asking him and pulled it forward to rest on his thigh, laying out the contents of the kit next to them before pulling the tweezers out. Joel could only watch and control his breathing, trying not to shudder at the feel of her warm skin against his jeans or the brush of her hair over his arms. It’d been a while…since Tess and he wasn’t going to deny that Red was attractive. Hell, any man probably would have a hard time keeping his thoughts pure with a pretty woman between his thighs. But her on her knees, fingers skimming over his knuckles, made him clench his teeth in an attempt to remain neutral.

“You don’t have to-” “Shut up, Miller,” Red muttered, holding the tweezers and working to dig out one of the larger splinters, “I’ve seen you use your left and you’re shit with it.” Joel huffed and tried to focus on the pain, his breathing, anything but her touch. He should have yanked his hand away and shrugged her off, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Not when she was this close and he could watch her, memorize the freckles along her shoulders and the trail of water sliding down. She pulled out a few large fragments of bone and he watched in morbid curiosity at the small pile. They’d once belonged to the skull of another person. Joel had managed to smash his head in so hard they’d dug underneath his skin, silent retribution in the last moments of that man’s life. Now he was in his house, using his water and his things, taking his bed. “Luckily it doesn’t seem like you fractured your hand,” Red muttered, adding another small bone to the pile. One of her hands was holding the tweezers while the other wrapped around his fingers, his own hand almost gently wrapped around hers. He tried to shrug it off as her holding it to maneuver it around. 

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Joel grumbled and cleared his throat as her thumb trailed over the cuts on his knuckles. The small movement was surprisingly gentle, something he didn’t expect from her. “You saved me,” the words were whispered softly as if she didn’t want to speak them out loud into existence. But he’d heard them, had been acutely aware of the sound of her breathing and the way her lips formed the words even as she concentrated on pulling the splinters out. And her saying them, confirming what he had done, shot a different kind of pain through him. Because he had saved her and for all the excuses he tried to come up with, they were just that. Excuses. The real reason why wasn’t something he was willing to admit to. But it stirred that anger he relied on when confronted by something he didn’t like. Vulnerability. “I wouldn’t have had to if you’d been watching yourself,” he growled low and tried to jerk his hand out of her grasp, but she held on strong, “Should have stayed back and behind me like I told you to.” Her eyes flickered up to meet his hazel ones under her brow and those long lashes, the look hard and sharp. “Right. It’s always listen to you or do what you say as if you’re the expert on surviving,” her voice was low and rough like a crackling flame, “Anyone ever told you that you have control issues, Tex?” The sight of her angry, on her knees in just a towel and wet hair clinging to her skin, framing those little tattooed stars had something stirring deep inside. His free hand dug into his thigh and he tried to ignore how soft her hands were even as they gripped his injured one, “My control issues have kept me alive this long. You knew what you were signing up for when you tagged along. I didn’t need a second little girl to watch over if that’s how you want to act, Starshine.” She chuckled humorlessly and leaned in towards him between his thighs, “No, you see at first I thought that was your type. That you liked being obeyed and I was almost sure that’s how you liked getting your rocks off. Some sweet damsel in distress who needs you and gets on their knees to please you however you want like good girls.” As if emphasizing her point, she sat up straight all prim and proper and he tried to ignore the trickle of water that slid down her cleavage and into the towel. Red wasn’t wrong entirely. The sight had his mouth watering and as her hand rested on his thigh, squeezing the thick muscle there, arousal flooded him. Then the hand still holding his injured one squeezed and he hissed, a strange combination of pleasure and pain hitting him, “But the more I see you, I don’t think you want some submissive sweet thing at all. I think you like someone arguing with you more, right Tex?” Joel glared at her, blood pounding through his veins. He was loath to admit to her being right, at confirming that she had read that part of him, especially as she sat there half naked and looking so smug. Maybe she was right. Hell, that had been what had drawn him to Tess. He didn’t like gentle, didn’t trust it anymore. Gentle got you killed and even if he did want her to listen and do what she was told, it’d been born out of wanting to keep a distance. But she wasn’t gentle and she didn’t listen. She was a wild animal, all teeth, and hell if that hadn’t made her attractive even while driving him wild. “Guess you got me all figured out, don’t ya Starshine?” he hissed, leaning towards her. Her fingers clenched onto him tighter and he got the urge to lick the star pattern along her collarbone, just to see what she’d do. But he didn’t, eyes narrowing and drilling into her own, “Except you’re wrong if you don’t think I like seeing you on your knees for me.” Her pupils were wide and blown up, skin flushed and scars in even more stark relief. Each deep breath made her chest rise and fall and he knew even if she was trying to hide it, his words had affected her the same. Joel only leaned back and ripped his hand from hers, moving to stand up, “Now get dressed and go to sleep if you’re done bothering me.” He’d snatched the suture kit and tweezers from the bed, stepping around the woman and leaving her still on her knees as he went for the door. He felt the urge to look back at her, to see her reaction, but he only pressed forward and left, shutting the door behind him. If he didn’t look back, she would stay the same monster as him in his head, not the girl who smelled of flowers and gently pressed against his thighs. And he needed that reassurance even as the memory of her skin on his made his fists clench. 

[rennorthernlights]

The World We Knew

Chapter 1: Radioheart, Chapter 2, Chapter 3,

Trigger warnings; Zombies, mentions of death, very brief mention of suicide in the very beginning.

You can also go to AO3 for RenNorthenLights. I post more on there than here. If you go to my AO3 than PLEASE look at the tags for this fic! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

——————————————————————————————

October-ish, 2023. Time??? Location???

It’s become almost routine now.

Waking up at the ass crack of dawn, checking her backpack, cleaning her rifle, making sure the ‘room’ she’s in is safe. Over a year ago she wouldn’t be up this early. Over a year ago she wouldn’t even be touching her fathers rifle without permission. But life has a funny way of throwing curve balls. In this sense, life threw a massive curve ball at everyone and everything. The world as she knew it become sick with disease— No, not COVID-19, though many speculated that it was the reason, the beginning of it all. No it was the dead-come-back-to-life-and eat-your-face kinda disease. Normally people bring up that type of disease in conversations with speculations on the “what if” scenarios of what they’d do.

Many of her college friends all had plans and ideas and yet most of them now roam the streets looking for the next person to chomp on. Ironic isn’t it? She never believed she’d live this long hell many times the conversation of “Quick a zombie apocalypse happens! What do you do?!” She’d laugh and says she’d die in the next month or two. To which her friends would moan and groan because surely “You wouldn’t give up so easily?? Come onnnn what would you actually do.” She’d think it over and before putting much thought, she said.

“I’d kill myself.” Her friends went silent before laughing at how serious she sounded and even she laughed. A good banter back and forth as her college friends sipped on cheap booze. “No, no, but in all seriousness. I’d stay with my parents. My dads a police Captain after all. He’s taught me how to shoot before I could write and my ma… well she’ll probably teach me something.” Snorting a chuckle since her moms a teacher. One of her friends asks what she’d do if her parents became zombies.

“Well I guess I’d try to find groups to stay in. What do y’all think? I guess I’d put up with y’all.” Nudging her friend playfully on the shoulder. Laughter in the room as the music starts playing and the cheep booze starts kicking in. As her friends dance and sing to “Only Girl in the World” by Rihanna she sits on the couch in deep thought. Her drink in hand as she thinks bout her life. Thinks about her finals coming up and how she’s gotta take all the tests to become a nurse. Both her parents were exceptionally happy that she didn’t follow in their footsteps.

“I love kids but please… do not become a teacher.” Her mother sounded so exhausted when they spoke early on the phone. “And don’t become a police officer!” Her father yells in the background. The running joke for every phone call even though her parents are well aware that she’s going to be a nurse. She’s been deadset on it since she was a kid. She doesn’t plan on telling her ma that she’s gonna try and apply to be the school nurse where her ma works. Sipping her booze some more as the apple news on her phone pings “Reports of a New Virus, Scientists say… ”

She huffs, reading the first couple of paragraphs before getting bored and exiting out of the article. “Probably another variant of COVID. Great another shot I’m gonna have to take.” Turning her phone off and chugging her drink before she starts dancing with her giggly and much too drunk friends.

————————————————————

Oh how life turned so fast and so quickly the following week. Nearly half of the friends in the room became the first percentages of “Turned” and the other half “Missing, have you seen them?” She barely made it out herself. But that’s life. Cruel and beautiful and so, so lonely in the world she now knows. She stays too long thinking about it and she’ll drown. She doesn’t want to think about her friends, her home, her… family. It’s still too much even after all this time. Even with it being well over a year it still hurts.

Shaking her head of those thoughts as she gets situated. Glad that she triple checked the ‘room’ she’s in. Her anxiety has been through the roof these last couple days and every lil noise is having her jump. At least she can put her mind at ease since she’s checked and barricaded the exit. A couple deads outside that she handled quickly. Who knew that she’s be so proficient with a bat and knife? She’s a good shot but before a to keep her rifle hidden. Not many bullets being made anyways..

She turns her radio on as she waits for it to come to life. For months she been speaking on it. Using it as a dairy of sorts, it helps her when she feels the loneliest. Helps when the days feel colder than what it typically does in Texas. She spoke and spoke until one day it started speaking back. The man on the radio commented how he’s been hearing her speak and at first, he and his group thought it was a hoax since they couldn’t get the radio to work. She didn’t speak on it for days, but the men would still speak back and call out to her.

Finally, she worked up the courage to speak back and from then on, they’ve become a part of her routine. Once a day around noon they’d speak. She has her rules, No names, no locations, no descriptions. She doesn’t want to get attached only to one day not hear them speak back again. She doesn’t need another name added to her list of grief. That, and as much as she wants to trust them, she knows that humans can be just as dangerous if not more so.

“Static, come in Static.” She grins as she sits in the office room that she’s been sleeping in. Stretching her legs as she’s never gotten used to the floors even after all this time. Her legs stiff as her other hand rubs her knee. The radio crinkles and scratches until finally.

“Must you keep calling me that?” The man speaks, the heavy Scottish accent shining through, and she can just tell he’s grinning. “I’ve told ya, mah name is Joh- “

“No,” she cuts him off as she clicks on the button. “No names. I don’t... I don’t want to hear it, please.” She’s told him before that she doesn’t want to hear his name. He’s been understanding but sometimes he’ll still try it... The thought that there is an actual person behind the radio scares her and intrigues her. Hearing someone even through all this mess makes it all bearable even if it’s just by a little bit. “Don’t make me ‘hang up’.” A lighthearted threat. She wouldn’t actually do that. She needs her daily talks with them.

“I know, Bonnie, I know,” the voice speaks with understanding. The man knows all too well on why it’s easier to stay nameless, easier to not be attached incase the voice one day doesn’t speak back. “But one day I would love ta hear my name from your pretty voice.” The voice chuckles, “Where are ya now?” A hopeful tinged to his voice.

“You know I don’t give locations, Static.” Singing back her words with a furrow of her brow. “But… I’m in an office building.”

“Ah, I see that’s become a fan favorite of yours.” A tease in the man’s voice. “Oh, it seems my friend wants to speak to ya.” Her eyes perk up as she knows who is about to speak.

“Electricity!” She smiles big and she just knows Static is rolling his eyes.

“Sunshine haven’t heard from you since, Static,” emphasizing the other man’s nickname and she can practically hear the glare. “has been hogging you.” Electricity, as she’s been calling him even though he’s also tried to get her to call him by his name, has a much softer voice. Calmer and levelheaded compared to Static who's more outgoing and louder. She’s called them the duo 1 and duo 2 before she called them Static and Electricity. Much to their annoyance and amusement, much better than her other idea of calling them Thing 1 and Thing 2.

“Well next time hit him or something.” She smiles as she can hear Static mouthing off something. Probably Static telling him where she’s been in for a bit. “In an office building again? That seems to be your usual, yeah?” The man speaks lowly. His words concerned and yet with the subtleness of memorizing something.

“Am I that predictable, Electricity? She stands up from where she was sitting. “Static said something similar.”

“Not predictable just doing what you always do, Sunshine.”

“That’s… That means I’m being predictable.” She teases as he stammers.

“No, no, I meant that you are more comfortable with what you know to be safe.”

“Soooo predictable with my safety?” She teases as she can hear him muttering “bollocks” like he always does when, she assumes, he is flustered. “I’m pulling your leg, Electricity. Just messing around and being a brat.”

He laughs and sighs in relief. His voice cool like the summer breeze after a rainy day. “So where are you?” His voice sounding slightly insistent.

“No where near you.” Rolling her eyes as they always ask the same questions everytime they talk. “Quit askin, I’m fine on my own. I don’t do groups and you know why.” She’s told them about her run in with the only group she’s been with. Handmaidens Tale meet zombie apocalypse and she barely got out.

“I know, I know, you’ve done well on your own, but a little help goes a long way, Sunny.” Sometimes she wishes she would hate the nicknames that they give her but it does give a warm fuzziness in her stomach whenever they say it. Sighing as she speaks back. “Oh yes because you’re military right?” A bit of sarcasm in her voice as this is one of her questions that she always asks.

“Taskforce 141, Special Operation Forces, you already know this, Lass.” The other man speaks making her jolt. Guess he was listening in when she was speaking to Electricity.

“Yeah, yeah, just making sure you’re not lying and trying to sound more badass than you both already do.” Remarking quickly as a light blush spread on her face. The way he’s speaking sounds deeper. Like she’s in trouble somehow and he’s going to correct her.

“We know, Sunshine, we know you just want to be safe. It’s hard to trust especially with the dead around.” Electricity’s speaks softly, the cool to Static’s heat, “But to say it again; Joh— I mean, Static, is a Sergeant and I am also a Sergeant. Static is an expert in demolitions and trained as a sniper. I myself am an expert with prime target eliminations and covert surveillance.” He says it so sincerely and she has half a mind to believe him.

���And why are you all the way in Texas then?” They’ve told her how they moved up here and she knows the reason, but she wants them to say it again.

“We received word that a base, Fort Sam Houston, was working on a cure for the zombie virus. The BAMC is a hospital within that fort that was conducting research.” Electricity sites off the very thing that they’ve repeated for the last month.

“And?” She makes a go on motion that they can’t see but she knows that they can imagine that’s what she’s doing.

“But when we got there it was already over run and Kyl— I mean Electricity almost got killed in the process.” Static says, he sounds upset. “We’ve been over this, Lass. We tell you about the same things over and over again.” A hushed murmur from Electricity is heard and she starts feels bad.

“I know… I’m sorry, I just...” she starts off as she tries to not sound upset. “I just want to make sure that I can trust you. Last time I did...”

“Handmaidens tale, you’ve told us about it. The leader, Abraham, is a far-right Christian, yes?” Static says the man’s name and she shivers as she gives a tiny yes in reply. “He tried to keep you. To force you to stay with his group and be treated as a... how did you say it?”

“A breading cow.”

“Yes, that,” he sighs deeply on the radio, and she wonders what he and Electricity looks like. Wonders if they are as comforting as their warm voices. Wonders if they have beards or stubbles but her self-imposed rules keep her from asking. “I know it’s a lot, learnin ta trust when it's hard to. We’ve promised since the beginnin ta be honest and if I ever see him.” The threat is laced in his voice but he clears his throat. “Enough of that. We are finally moving to Houston. We acquired a car. A Jeep to be more precise. Any chance we’ll be near ya?”

“You might be…” she says softly as she bites her tongue. The urge to let them come to her gets harder and harder to say no to everyday they speak. “I don’t give locations, Static.”

“I know but can’t blame a man for trying. Oh?” She can hear his eyebrows furrowing as voices in the background speak. They’ve told her that they are a group of 4 in total. She’s never heard the other 2 speak but she can sometimes hear them… they sound funny. “It seems we have to cut this shorter, Bonnie.”

“We’ll speak again tomorrow, Sunshine, we promise.” The other man promises, and she knows they will. They’ve never broken a promise. Never did more than what they couldn’t do from the month that they’ve talked.

“I’ll see you both tomorrow and please,” she stresses the word as she hopes and prays that one day they can meet. That she’ll be brave enough to let them in and find her. “Please be safe. Please don’t get hurt, okay? I’ll metaphorically hit you, I swear I will.”

“Always, Bonnie, we will always be safe. Take care and check corners and windows. Make sure you can quickly get’n and out. Don’t go’n if your gut tells ya not to.” Static says, listing off his advice like he would to a fresh-faced recruit. “Don’t play fair and don’t play kind. Everyone’s an enemy until proven otherwise.” He waits a couple seconds before he passes it to the other man.

“Make sure to pack light and that you can easily grasp your weapon.” Electricity warns. A deep sigh from him before he speaks, “And if you ever… if you ever need help, just... please just tell us. We’ll do whatever we can to come for you, okay?” He waits and waits for her to speak but when she doesn’t, he sighs. He waits another minute and then the radio turns to static signaling the end of their conversation.

“I know,” she says softly as she hears the static of the radio. “Be safe, please be safe.” She murmurs the bits of name that she has overheard them say. Going against her own rules of not saying their names even though she knows it’s half of what their names are. She’s gotten too attached and now… now she’s worried. Worried for men she’s never met and probably never will.

“One can dream,” she rolls her shoulders and bends to stretch. Her stomach growling as she knows it’s about time to eat. Pulling her backpack on the office desk and opening it. A couple cans of food and jerky from gas stations. 2 water bottles and a simple medkit along with an extra shirt and pants. “Okay… raviolis or beans….” Humming as sits and pops open the beans. “I’ll save the raviolis for a special day.”

She’s sat for too long on her ass now it’s time to get a move on. Can’t stay for too long in the same places. Always gotta keep moving to different places. Curse the anxiety that still makes her think that a zombie is around every corner. Guess that’s what she’s been alive for so long.

[gaypirate420]

Those Twilight fans trying to justify SMeyer decision to make one of her main characters a confederate:

[skullywullypully]

Imagine spider!reader (or your OC), who's usually a shy and happy person slow to anger, comes to HQ one day, all hot, angry, and cursing up a storm.

Y/N: Damnit, damnnit, damnit, damnit, dagnabit, damnit, damn, dagnabit, dagit nagit, nabit dagit!

Everybody else:

[xcherryerim]

I had to edit Billy with a song from Cowboy Carter IM SORRY

[andromeda3116]

salivating at the idea of texas flipping for harris

[entertainmentgirl80]

Texan & Georgian: Love Story (Jake "Hangman" Seresin X OC Reader) 👨💚🧑🏾🤠

Warning: Fluff, There Some Romance Tension Between The Characters, And Of Course Hangman Being Him.

It's a nice sunny day in San Diego, California. You were just moved here from Atlanta, Georgia, to start fresh. So while you are unpacking your stuff in your new apartment, you decide to call your mom to make sure you are straight and settle in after you move....

*Rings, rings*

"Hey Mama," you say hi, first.

"Hey baby girl, how are you?" She said hi back.

"I'm doing fine, just getting in and unpacking more stuff. What about you? How is the jewelry business and my doggy twin?" You ask her

"It's doing well, and your doggy twin is out on the patio enjoying the sunshine. So, what are your plans over California?"

"Probably go out, just sideseening and that all." You tell your plans to her.

"Alright, baby girl, but listen, I'm gonna let you go and do your thing, talk to you later, love you."

"Okay, love you more, bye bye." You hang up the phone.

Later on that evening, you already got dressed, and you is wearing one of your Shein graphic t-shirt dresses that you got on, you put on some little makeup, and you is wearing some of your gold bracelets and your rings on too as well with your bucket hat on, just to make sure you look decent while you going out. So after the Uber dropped you off at this bar called The Hard Deck, which is a casual bar/hangout place for the military & the navy.....

"Well, this is an interesting bar, so I'm guess it's wouldn't kill me to enjoy myself for a one drink and be around people." You said to yourself before you go in the bar. So after you went inside you saw different types of military people from men to women and there also regular people hanging out too as well, so as you walk towards to find you a seat and sit down, a tall good-looking but gorgeous man with blond hair & beautiful green eyes staring at you while you sitting down waiting for your drink to order by a beautiful brunette older woman by the name of Penny Benjamin. So you look around just to feel the vibe in the bar, and this man keep staring at you, and giving you a smile and a wink, but you turn back around and while your cheeks is blushing.....

"Here your soda, love, enjoy. Let me know if you need anything, okay? Penny gives you a warm smile.

"Okay, thank you, ma'am, I appreciate it." You thank her after she gives you your drink.

So, while you enjoy yourself while drinking your coca-cola and looking at your phone, what is going on, on your social media. The guy with the beautiful green emerald eyes with the toothpick in his mouth taps you on your shoulder and wanna introduce himself....

"Howdy there, pretty lady, how are you this evening?" He greets you in a Texan southern accent.

"Hi, I'm doing fine, how about you sir?" You smile at the handsome man.

"I'm good darlin', can't complain, so what got you looking cute this evening?" He ask you.

"That good, well you know just to get out for a minute, and I'm just move here, by the way."

"Oh well, that understandable sweets, so where you from if you don't mind asking?" He wanna know.

"I'm from Atlanta, Georgia, born & raised, what about you and also what your name by the way if I don't mind asking?" You tell him where you from.

"Texas, born & raised, and my name is Jake Seresin, but my callsign is Hangman." He tell you his name and his callsign.

"That what up, nice to meet you, Jake. But why is the name "Hangman" though? Is it because you like playing the game when you were a child or something?" You raise your eyebrow, just out of curiously.

"Well, it is because I'm have a reputation to hang people left to dry." He explains.

"Oh, well, okay, so do you still do that to people?" Asking curiously.

"No, after my last mission and help out my fellow teammates and being the team leader that I am, it's changed my perspective."

"That good, so what do you do for a living, though?"

"I'm in a navy, and also I'm a pilot, by the way." He has a grin on his face.

So, after hours & hours on having a conversation between the two of you, you felt more comfortable talking to him about everything, even though you just met him, and he is more comfortable, and understand where you coming from. But however, you never thought a gorgeously but handsome blond man with a cocky personality starting to develop feelings towards you after y'all met in this bar. But the feeling is mutual between you & him, the way y'all look each other's eyes, the way he put his hand on your wrist while y'all slow dance during a slow R&B song on a jukebox. It's like a fairytale came true that you found your prince charming and he found his future wife & soulmate, even though y'all two from different worlds regardless of your race, so after both of you pay both of y'all tabs, you ask Jake can he come home with him....

"Hey, it's getting late, and I know we just met, but can I crash to your place for tonight, if you don't mind at all?" You ask while you yawn.

"Of course, not at all, suga, and don't worry , I won't murder you." He has a smile on his features.

"Thank you, so you ready go?" You have a lazy smile on your face.

"Ready that I'm ever be darlin, let go home." He kisses you on your forehead, and y'all left to go back to his place for the night.

A/N: This is the prequel to part 2, this is how they first met for the first time. I hope y'all like it. Thank you for reading, sharing, and reposting for my last story 🙏🏾 🫶🏾🫶🏾😌

[vvatchword]

Only Man: Bailout

It was six in the evening when Sinclair finally thought to grab a bite to eat. The press had been unusually delighted with him, swarming his workplace, his office, his walk to Point Prometheus. Worse than wading through a mud slick—and made him late to every single affair that demanded leaving the office.

“This is the second time you’ve paid Topside’s debt, and it was a real chunk of change,” said one journo. “Tell us, what brought about this kind of selfless behavior from one of Rapture’s greats?”

Sinclair dramatically dropped his jaw and scoffed.

“Why, how dare you, sir!” he said. “We may not have laws against libel down here, but…”

The crowd of journalists laughed.

“Don’t let it be said I did this for anything more selfish than a friend’s company,” Sinclair drawled. “Don’t tell me there isn’t some friend you wouldn’t bail out just for the pleasure of seeing them pleased.”

For sustenance that evening, he chose the Silver Fork, a five-star in Fort Frolic. The only other choice was Tate’s, and he wasn’t feeling that charitable.

He had only just sat down when he glanced up and saw Ryan striding toward him.

“Why, Andy Ryan!” Sinclair rose from his seat, eyes twinkling. “Fancy seeing you ’round these parts.”

They shook, but Ryan said nothing. All that spoke were his eyes.

“Won’t you sit down?” Sinclair asked, gesturing at the table. “I haven’t ordered yet.”

Ryan lowered to the booth opposite Sinclair, only looking down to find an ashtray.

“So, what brings you to this corner of the Fort?”

“You paid off Topside’s debt.” Ryan put his cigarette out. “Again.”

“Guilty as charged.” Sinclair settled back with his menu, legs crossed, one foot kicking.

“Sinclair.”

“M-hm.”

“What do you mean to prove with this Topside business?”

“Prove?” Sinclair lowered his menu, smiling. “Why, I just want to keep a good friend out of trouble, is all.”

Ryan’s expression rarely faltered; it did here. A faint flicker of disgust flashed across his face.

“He is a parasite.”

“He is a fool, and a very entertaining one at that,” Sinclair said. He turned to the waitress, who had just appeared. “I’ll take the Arcadia, red, 1953. Thanks, sugar.”

Ryan waved her away before speaking again.

“You can measure the greatness of a man by the company he keeps,” he said.

“So I hear,” Sinclair said.

“Does he value intellect? Ability? Art?” Ryan cocked his head. “Or is he a beast rutting in the field?”

Sinclair nodded. “Mm-hmm. Very true. How’s Ms. Jolene doin’, by the by?”

Ryan’s gaze snapped up. Sinclair smiled at him over the curl of his wrist. The silence between them stretched for an uncomfortable minute before Sinclair finally cleared his throat.

“Look, Andrew.” Sinclair dropped his foot and his smile, sat back, and gave him the most solemn, constipated look he possibly could. “The kid is harmless. And when I say ‘kid,’ I mean he’s a kid. He has no idea what he’s doing. He can’t do a thing to Rapture except make it laugh.”

“When he flaunts his freedom, the city does more than laugh,” Ryan said. “It sits up. It takes notice. And the darker elements…” He closed his eyes. “The darker elements cheer him on.”

“Who, Fontaine?”

Ryan’s eyes flashed open.

Sinclair chuckled. “Fontaine doesn’t laugh or cheer. At least, not conventionally. Now, he likes you pissed off—ah, if you’ll pardon the expression—but he doesn’t spend half as much time thinking about you as you do about him.” Sinclair pointed at him with his empty cigarette holder. “Look, Andrew, you’re lettin’ these nobodies eat you up from the inside out. And they’re nobodies, you get me? Nobody’s as big as you.”

“Fontaine is hardly a ‘nobody.’”

“All right, I’ll give you that. But Topside is.” Sinclair looked into his breast pocket, raised his brows, and tucked the empty holder into his mouth.

Ryan’s eye fell to his pocket, drifted up to his eyes. “You yourself, Sinclair… sometimes I wonder.”

Sinclair smiled. “About what?”

“Whose side you are really on.”

“Capital’s, naturally.” Sinclair shrugged. “Thought we came down here to avoid all that, ah… ‘side’ nonsense.”

“There have always been sides, Sinclair. There is the philosophy and there are parasites. There is the philosophy and there are those who make a mockery of it.” Ryan drew another cigarette from his pocket. Oxford brand. He had been their spokesman for a time.

“The philosophy is about the dollar, so I’m all about the philosophy,” Sinclair said. “Look, you have nothing to worry about with me, chief. I’m a sensible man. But I am just a man, with a man’s needs. Same as you’ve got, I reckon.” His accent turned dramatic, his smile sarcastic. “I’d like this boy’s friendship and I can’t have it when he’s dangling from a ceiling. If you take the trouble to paint him up into a bogeyman, well… I’ll just say it: that’s less about him and more about you.”

Ryan’s lip curled. “Are you saying I lie, Mr. Sinclair?”

“Oh, lord, no. Not you.”

“Then,” Ryan said, snapping his lighter, “who is the liar here?”

“If you want to find a liar, I’m sure you’ll find one,” Sinclair said. His own eyes had grown dark and shuttered. Ryan gazed upon the same cold and unreadable expression as his own. Neither man blinked. Their standoff was broken only when the waitress returned with a glass, sliding it in front of Sinclair. It was Sinclair who blinked first, turning with a light cough.

“Ah, thank you, honey,” Sinclair said. “You sure you don’t want a drink, Andy? I’m payin’.”

“No. Thank you.” Ryan waved the waitress away. “Tell me, Sinclair. How much of your money is wrapped up in Fontaine’s matters?”

“About the same amount as is wrapped up in yours,” Sinclair said. “Ask your friends at Mulligan’s. They give you that information already, I presume.”

Ryan’s frown deepened. “You bought into Fontaine’s oxygen supply last I heard.”

“Oh, he’s gobblin’ things up right and left, chief!” Sinclair said, clapping himself on the chest. “And I’ve seen his delivery system. Just spectacular. Improves quality by every measurable standar…”

“Do you hear yourself?” Ryan asked.

Sinclair blinked. “Well, I’d hope so. I just put a helluva a lot of money in that thing.”

“Fontaine is taking the city.” Ryan said it to the table more than to Sinclair. He lifted his eyes. “And you are enabling him.”

For a moment, Sinclair was struck dumb. His eyes locked on Ryan’s, his mouth pursed up in what was trying to turn into a laugh.

“Pardon me?” he asked at last.

“Fontaine cares nothing for the philosophy,” Ryan said. “And he is poisoning this city one charity at a time. Surely you’ve seen it.”

“Andy, I must admit, I’m a mite confused,” Sinclair said, cocking his head. “Yes, he runs charities, but that’s his money. I’m not funding those. I’m funding the end to obesity and the latest synthetics for a pale complexion. Be reasonable, man. Ah, one second.”

Sinclair waved down his waitress, pointed at something on his menu, made a face, muttered something about the cook or the cut, and shooed her off.

“My apologies,” he said, clearing his throat. “Didn’t eat lunch. Are you sure you wouldn’t like…”

“Do you think he supports those wretches on his efforts alone?” Ryan asked.

“His money ain’t my money,” Sinclair said. “Once it passes hands it’s outta my control. I’m gettin’ what I asked for—the cure for, ah—cancer, baldness, even mortality—and a tidy profit on top all that—so why should I demand any more? Oh, I’ll say it, chief: this is unlike you. You gettin’ enough rest down there?”

“Is everything a joke to you?” Ryan asked softly. “Do you not see the city transforming beneath us? There could be no Lamb without Fontaine. There could be no Topside without Fontaine.”

“Andy, what the hell…”

“There could be no poorhouses, no orphanages, no bread lines. Already I see their little signs: ‘Ryan Does Not Own Us.’ For instead of raising themselves, they seek to degrade me. And if you believe they will stop with my head…”

“Let me stop you right there,” Sinclair said. “Now I read your essays on the philosophy. I even read your attempts at fiction, god bless your soul. And I’m tryin’ to think of a single instance where honest businessmen were cowing others into givin’ ’em more of a hand than they deserve. You should remember them, seein’ as you wrote it: those were the villains.”

“You accuse me of offering bribes?” Ryan spat.

“What do you mean by asking how much of my money goes into Fontaine’s coffers, then?” Sinclair asked. “Tell me, Andy—you’d rather I pour all my money into Arcadia? Well, Demeter’s been pushin’ 30% more O2 than Arcadia for the last six months. More O2, faster, with better CO2 scrubbers, better moisture entrapment and recycling—hell. You name it, they’ve built it. I’ve started running it through my Drop locations and it’s startin’ to look like air quality is better down with the homeless than it is up in Apollo. Look, I’d be a fool not to invest. Hell, you’d be a fool not to look into his tech.” He threw his arms open. “Why, I figured all this was the aim of the game. As I heard a wise man say once, ‘The strong will not be constrained by the weak.’”

Ryan sighed and rose slowly to his feet. “I understand your folly now, Augustus.”

“Oh, do tell,” Sinclair said, pulling a cigarette out of his pocket and jamming it into his holder.

“You believe in the dollar and nothing else,” Ryan said. “Not human integrity; not the narrow path.”

“I don’t believe in metaphysics, it’s true,” said Sinclair, and snapped his lighter. “And I thought you were the same.” He blew out a stream of smoke.

Ryan laughed soundlessly, mouthed his cigarette.

“Someday, perhaps soon, there will be a reckoning,” he said. “I will be watching you, Sinclair.”

Sinclair cracked a smile, leaning back in his booth. “Hope you like what you see. But if you don’t, do feel free to stop by for a chat. You know my door is always open.”

UPRISING: BLACK SCRAPBOOK HUB

[mejomonster]

Oh also when I start dropping the Red White and Royal Blue book quotes expect a FLOOD I'm highlighting the fuck out of this book

[bengals-barnesbabe]

Currently working on some fics with these two

[wxywardsun]

Hey Hun! So my bday was Friday, I turned 37 (I'm old 😂) and I was wondering if you could write something with Beau Arlen surprising the Reader? Like she wasn't expecting it at all, just fluffy goodness! ✌️💜

[Well,let me say Happy Birthday to you!! I Hope your birthday day was amazing!! 🥹🫶 This request is so sweet,y’all already know I’m a sucker for fluff! Let’s get started shall we?]

Imagine Beau Surprising You On Your Birthday…

God,I know he’s probably so sappy when it comes to celebrating birthdays,like he has it written on his calendar with little balloon drawings around the date and everything.

Your entire day runs like usual,you get a bunch of hugs and cards and “happy birthday’s!” from Jenny and Cassie and the rest of the crew.

But something’s a little off and you immediately pick up on it.

Beau isn’t there that day and when you ask Jenny about where he is,she says she’s just filling in for him but only for today.

You shrug it off and continue doing what you need to do for the day until that fated hour hits where you finally get to clock out for the evening.

Even after the long day you’re still beaming and you can’t wait to get home and relax.

The moment you open the door to your home your eyes go wide at the most beautiful display you’ve ever seen.

Beau is there,smiling and rosy cheeked holding two wine glasses and a fancy bottle of champagne. There’s candles set around the living room and dining room,and the table is set with a nice dinner spread. Everything looks absolutely delicious!

Beau can’t wait to greet you so he pulls you in for the tightest hug ever and says “Happy Birthday,Honey! Like the display? I got a lil help from Cassie with the setup cause you know I had to make it extra special for ya.”

You can’t even form words,this is so sweet! You’ll thank Cassie for her help later but now? How about dinner with a charming sheriff.

Everything tastes incredible! Beau admits he practically made everything by himself and you find yourself shocked at how talented he is. You tell him how good everything is and he pulls out the famous “Aw cmon now hun,you know we don’t blush down in Texas..”

You laugh at the obvious lie as he reaches and pops the bottle of champagne,face practically tomato red as he pours generously into each glass. A glass in each of your hands he stands with you and says “to another year..to us!” The smile on his face as the glasses clink together makes your heart swell.

Just before you think this night couldn’t get any better,Beau gestures to the couch in the living room. “Hey,we could sit and relax on the couch if you want. See what’s on the tv,maybe watch a movie?” With a quick “of course!” You’re both on the couch enjoying each others company.

The champagne almost gone,and the night almost done,you lift your head up and Beau asks “what’s up?” You don’t even hesitate before pressing a gentle kiss against his cheek,green eyes widening at the sudden gesture of affection.

Smile a mile wide you thank him for making your birthday a truly special one before leaning your head against his shoulder. Truly you couldn’t thank him enough. This birthday was perfect.

His sigh is almost breathless sounding as he laughs. He glides his thumb over the top of your hand. “Anything for you sweetheart. Now I’ll have to make next years birthday even bigger than this one.”

You smile at the thought of spending another birthday with Beau. Birthdays are fun,but they’re even better with him. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[johnnytoronto]

genius idea... nfl teams should choose themes for gameday fits...some cohesion if you will