Give me Dean Winchester dressed in leather with a motherfucking cigarette hanging out of his mouth, lingering around a diner where is baby brother is inside helping a girl study oblivious to fact that she’s looking at him more than the book in front of them. Give me a pinning Dean and an oblivious Sam and all the angst that you can come up with.
busto and busto 2.0 are griffin and nick, post-finale. they’re put back in the game to await the next players, who are, of course, griffin and nick. the bustos were trying so hard to destroy the game in order to stop nick and griffin from playing, hoping to save them from going too far and ending up back in the void, to stop them from becoming another incarnation of griffin and nick trapped in beamNG.drive
Rated M for language and future NSFW chapters (these will be marked as such).
You’re lying on the couch
with your legs over Yondu’s lap, reading a book while he works on his arrow. He
suddenly jerks under you, and you nearly drop your book in surprise.
“Whoa, are you okay?”
He shakes his head as if
to clear it, then turns to you with a wide smile. “I got it workin’!”
You sit up, drawing your
legs under you to kneel by his side, peering over his shoulder at the weapon.
“How do you know?”
He taps his implant with a
finger. “Can feel it. What ya say we give it a test, huh?” He gets to
his feet, and you follow him out onto the deck.
“How does it
Yondu holds the arrow
in his open palm and sneaks a side glance at you with that shark’s grin. Then,
he purses his lips and whistles.
Your laugh gets stuck in
your throat as the lights on the arrow glow red, and it rises into the air. The
circuitry on Yondu’s fin runs the same color, flashing and moving steadily
along its grooves. His whistle warbles intentionally, strong and steady. The
arrow twirls, tipping end over end in the air before him. He glances at you
again, then utters a sharp whistle through his teeth. The arrow flies away so
fast that it’s just a streak of scarlet over the lake.
“Whoa!” you cry,
leaning over the railing to watch. It’s so far gone now that it’s disappeared
from sight. “That is amazing!” you say, unable to keep a grin from
your face. “How do you know where it is?”
“I can see it,”
he says, then grunts. “Well, it’s more like I can see echoes of what’s
around it, up here,” he taps the side of his head. “The arrow is
connected to m'implant, and the implant is connected to m'brain. The vibration
of the arrow hits off stuff around it, givin’ me a picture.”
“Kind of like
“Yeah, kinda like
"So where is it
Yondu points to a bend at
the far edge of the lake, where there’s a cluster of pine trees. “It’s
jus’ hoverin’ over there, waitin’ fer me to whistle again.” He licks his
lips and lets out, a low-pitched, winding note. A streak of red blows past the
pine trees and out into open water. With a loud, upturned pitch, it does a loop
and plunges into the water.
“Lotta creatures down
there,” he says. “Little ones. Oh, there’s a big one.”
“Ya want fish fer
dinner?” he asks with a wink.
You laugh. “No
“A'ight.” He whistles again, and the arrow bursts out of the waves,
soaring into the sky like a firecracker. With a sly glance at you, Yondu does a
series of gentler, quick notes. The arrow makes shapes in the air; a star, a
planet with X-shaped rings, and lastly, a heart.
You smile at him, and
intertwine your fingers with his. “You can be pretty sweet.”
He laughs and pulls you
against his side. “I can be pretty dirty too,” he hisses in your ear.
You hide your face with
one hand as you blush. “I have no doubt,” you laugh.
He kisses the top of your
head. “Okay, let’s get this thing back in here.” He whistles loudly,
the kind of pattern you’d use to call someone to you, and the arrow races back
towards you both. You gasp a little but Yondu doesn’t flinch, so you swallow
and stay by his side. He snatches the arrow in mid-air with a fist, and the
circuitry on both the arrow and his fin fades away. He smiles down at you.
“Pretty impressive, huh?”
“Yeah,” you say,
with a quick kiss on his lips.
He twirls it in his
fingers. "Well now this is workin’, it should'a sent a signal up to
the Eclector and the Quadrant.“
Your smile falters, and
you nod. "That’s good. I’m – I’m glad.” Turning away from him, you go
back into the cabin.
Yondu follows you with his
eyes, heart sinking. There I go,
ruinin’ the mood. He sighs. The
signal’s out to the crew, it’s only a matter of time before they find me. Until
then, I’m gonna have to make the most of my time with ya, darlin’. Sticking
his arrow in his back pocket, he strides into the cabin after you.
As he walks in, he hears
you running water and clanking pots in the kitchen. But you’ve got music
playing, so he takes that as a good sign. It means you’re not angry, and not
too sad either. Deciding you might just want some time to yourself for a minute,
he settles down on the couch, tossing his arrow on the coffee table.
In the kitchen, you fill a
pot with water for a pasta dinner and set it on the stove to boil. He’s going to leave. You know he’d have to,
sooner or later. He can’t stay here. He wouldn’t be happy here. The
thought makes your heart sink even lower, but you know it’s true. Yondu might
be happy right now with you, but someone so wild and fearless as he is would
start to die inside after a while without that adventure and danger he’s lived
with for sixty-some years. You shake your head at yourself, and force yourself
to smile. It’s not like they’re
coming this second to get him. Enjoy it while it lasts. You rummage in the
pantry for a jar of spaghetti sauce, humming along to the playlist you have
going. The current song ends, and a new one begins.
If you want it to be good girl,
get yourself a - bad boy
Yondu’s head perks up, and
he grins at the lyrics - then smiles even wider as he hears a gasp from the
kitchen and your fast footsteps.
phone?” he hears you say to yourself. “Stupid song!”
“Ya lookin’ for this,
darlin’?” Yondu asks, holding up your phone from where it sits on the
coffee table. You poke your head into the room, and he wiggles it in his hand.
“Yeah, I just want to
change the song,” you say. Your face is flushed a deep red.
If you really like it hot,
find someone who hits the spot honey
Yondu grins and gets to
his feet, phone in hand. “Mebbe I wanna listen.”
“No, come on.” You
hold out your hand, but Yondu slips behind the couch, out of reach. “Hey!
Give me that!”
If you want to get it
done, you gotta get the one, the one who’s got it goin on
You chase him around the
couch a couple times, then into the kitchen, where he holds it high above his
head. You jump, trying to reach it, but your efforts are in vain. Now you’re both
laughing, making it harder to stand up straight.
you pant, jumping again. “What do I have to do to get it back?”
“Hmm,” he gives
you a villainous grin. “Dance fer it.”
“Dance to this
“Ain’t gettin’ it
back, then,” he says with a shrug, shifting it to his other hand as you
try to reach it again.
If you like it innovative,
better get someone creative honey…and if you want it to be jammin’, gotta get
somebody slammin’, baby….
Yondu’s laugh at the
suggestive lyrics die in his throat as you swing and roll your hips, coming
closer, running your hands down your chest, along your sides, down your thighs.
You come up close to him, and slide your hands up his stomach, over his pectorals,
and run one finger under his chin, tickling his beard. He swallows visibly,
eyes dilated, and his arms lower to hold you.
“Thank you!” you
cry, snatching the phone out of his hand.
You giggle and run out of
the room, but he’s fast on your heels. You let out a playful shriek and dive
out the deck door, pounding down the steps as fast as your feet can go. You can
barely run, you’re laughing so hard. You reach the end of the stairs and jump
into the sand.
You only get a few steps
before you feel his arms around your waist. “Gotcha!” he yells with a
laugh. His momentum was too much though, and you both go tumbling down. He
shifts at the last second so he’s on the bottom, and lands in the sand with a
You both laugh long and
hard, and then as it dies away, you just stare at each other. Slipping the
phone in your back pocket, you wrap your arms around him and cover his mouth
He hums in pleasure, his
hands wandering over your body. He hooks his hands around your thighs, pressing
you down closer against him. You feel an unmistakable hardness pressing into
your lower belly, but you can’t deny it feels good. The resultant heat pooling between your legs is like fire.
You let your hands wander underneath his shirt, caressing his muscles and
scars. “Yondu…” you moan against his mouth.
He slips the band out of
your hair and tangles his hand in your locks. “[y/n] ….” he groans
back. He lifts his head to your neck, his tongue running along your jaw. You
moan as he nips and sucks at your throat, leaving love bites and hickeys in the
most visible places. You feel his hands sneak up the back of your shirt to
caress your lower back and tease your ribcage. They travel lower, and he
squeezes your butt through your jeans.
You giggle and reach
around him to do the same.
A noise like a growl
escapes him and he seizes your head to capture your lips again. You rest
against him, relaxing as you concentrate on the feel of his mouth moving
against yours. You lay there on top of him for several minutes, until the
friction between your bodies is too much to bear.
You lift yourself off him,
Yondu sits up, pulling you
closer and adjusting your legs so you’re kneeling on either side of his
You take your fingers and
trace the scars along the right side of his head, brush your knuckles against
his beard, down his chin. You run you fingers over the circular scars at his
throat and down the scars on his arms.
“What’re ya doin’, darlin’?”
he asks quietly.
you,” you say tentatively, “So I never forget what you look
like.” Your voice breaks slightly. As you raise your eyes to his, he takes
your face in his hands, pulling you forward to meet his lips. It’s a gentle,
deep and burning kiss, full of yearning.
“Somethin’ else to
remember me by,” he whispers against your lips as you break apart. He
combs his fingers through your hair and sighs. “I ain’t never gonna forget
from your last fic. bitty wanting to go to providence to surprise jack but he has no money and lots of homework. the team steps in. even tango helps and maybe for dibs.
And so it begins! I’m actually going to answer these prompts :D
Jam profits only go so far, Bitty realizes as he stares at his bank account. Holster had been on the whole team’s ass about learning to budget and being more responsible with money after catching the frogs spending a month’s paycheck to buy a Slip-N-Slide and fill it with cheap vodka for a kegster. Holster and Ransom had high-fived them, called Shitty to let him know that he could come play on it, and then sat Chowder, Dex, and Nursey down at the kitchen table and made them promise to never spend $1500 on alcohol again. Dex and Nursey had sheepishly started out filling out a budget spreadsheet that Ransom had drawn up, but Chowder pushed the paper back at the co-captains and looked at them incredulously.
“Why are we the only ones doing this?”
Holster and Ransom shared a glance. Holster tentatively spoke.
“Chow, it’s not like what you did wasn’t like..”
Ransom cut in.
Holster nodded gratefully at him.
“Yeah, totally! But also sorta illegal since you guys aren’t 21-“
“And we don’t know how you got $1500 of vodka smuggled into the Haus-“
“But like, none of that is responsible Chowder, so we want you guys to learn responsibility, little bros.”
“Literally no one on this team is responsible with money except Lardo, and even she spends like, 90% of her money on art supplies.”
He pointed at the D-men, looking to Dex and Nursey for support.
“I mean, you and Ransom go on bro dates all the time, but neither of you guys have jobs. Holster, you bought Ransom a giant Costco bear for your ‘Friendiversary’ and he bought you a signed copy of the 30 Rock script. That stuff isn’t cheap! Whiskey and Tango needed a second car to carry all their stuff home when they went to the Nike outlet last month, and Ford’s been bragging about going to New York for Hamilton, and those tickets are $500 minimum, plus food and hotels. Jack has a multi-million-dollar contract but you know he probably still spends most of that on stuff for Bitty. But Bitty won’t ask Jack for anything and Jack has no concept of money, so Bitty’s the one who pays for all those trips to Providence, and his primary source of income is jam!”
Chowder huffed and sat back down. Holster looked at him, a little shell-shocked. Ransom, however, grinned and leaned across the table to give the frog a fist bump.
“Yknow what Chowder? You’re right. Team budget meeting, ASAP!”
So there Bitty was, staring at his bank account, facing the hard truth that he wasn’t going to be able to visit Jack this month without Jack paying for the train up, and he couldn’t ask Jack for money. He loved the flowers, the attention, the affection and adoration that Jack showed him, but Bitty couldn’t be someone’s kept thing, like one of the girls from back home who married young and never got a job or had any kind of independence. He couldn’t be that kind of burden on Jack, and he couldn’t be happy as a house-husband, with nothing to show for his life but a boy. That meant no Jack until Bitty could find the money himself, which sucked. Bitty put his head down on the table and groaned. He needed to call Jack and let him know he couldn’t come up.
Jack Zimmermann put down the phone and poured himself a glass of water. Bitty couldn’t come up, which meant there wouldn’t be anyone by his side for the team dinner Friday night except Tater. It meant he could probably give away the ticket he had reserved for Bitty, and let Marty know he wasn’t going to have a plus-one to his dinner party Sunday night. He could call off the florist who was going to fill his apartment with sunflowers that matched the blond of Bitty’s hair and the brown of his eyes, and he could let Snowy know that he would be available to wingman for him sometime after the game. Jack looked over to where his cell phone was sitting on the countertop. He had a lot of calls to make to get his weekend in order. Or, he could just skype Shitty and complain.
Now, B. Shitty Knight is a lot of things. He is a committed, intelligent law student. He is the captain of a coed hockey team in Boston. He is secretly engaged to the love of his life, Larissa Duan, and he is a straight, white man estranged from his wealthy family because they still refuse to call him anything but his deadname. However, he is first and foremost a very good friend, and a wannabe fixer, so as soon as Jack hung up on him over Skype, he called up Lardo. Lardo then grabbed Ransom and Holster by the proverbial ear and had them call a team meeting, where Ransom and Holster let the team know that they heard from Lardo, who heard from Shitty, who heard from Jack that Bitty couldn’t afford to go to Providence anymore. The cocaptains looked out at their team, and sighed.
“Listen guys, we’ve been reviewing the budgets you guys gave us, and Chowder’s right. We are all very bad with money. Extremely bad.”
The team nodded, shifting around uncomfortably. Holster took a deep breath and continued.
“But guys, Bitty does a lot for us. He cooks for us, he cleans up after us, and he totally kicks ass on the ice. And like, a lot of us take all that for granted, even though he’s the only reason that any of us got laid last kegster. Girls really dug the fact that we have curtains and shit-“
“And food that isn’t pizza rolls!” Chowder interrupted, as Dex and Whiskey nodded sagely. The rest of the team murmured in agreement. Holster grinned.
“Totally! That too! So I think we should all chip in and get him a plane ticket to Providence this weekend.”
One of the second-string guys started grumbling. Ransom snapped around and pointed at him.
“Hey! Icer! How many free pies have you eaten this week?”
Icer looked down at his Nike slides.
“Yeah, you don’t have any room to talk. Listen guys, between the 20 of us? A plane ticket to Providence is like, fourteen bucks each.”
Nursey pulled out his wallet and tossed a twenty at Holster. Chowder followed suit and Dex had fourteen one dollar bills exactly. The tadpoles had to be convinced that no major airlines would accept their Starbuck gift cards as valid legal tender, but then they ponied up as well. The rest of the team slowly put cash in front of the two defensemen. Ransom smiled back at them.
“Great job guys! Nursey, way to be a leader, you’re exempt from Sin Bin fines for the rest of the year.”
Nursey grinned and gave Dex a fist bump as they left the room. The rest of the team filed out behind them, Holster turned to Ransom as he counted the money on the floor.
“Man, Bitty’s gonna cry when we give this to him.”
Ransom took the bundles of money, organizing them into small piles of twenties.
“I vote we just buy him the ticket and drop him off at the airport.”
“Yeah, he’ll just spend it on fruit if we give him the cash. I’ll buy the ticket and deposit the cash tomorrow.”
Ransom checked his watch and startled.
“Oh shit Holtzy, we’re gonna be late to our reservation.”
Holster jumped to his feet and grabbed his phone.
“I’ll get changed and meet you at the car. The reservation is for 7, right?”
Ransom nodded and started to run out to the car when he turned back to Holster with a grin.
“Can you believe we’re graduating in a few months?”
Holster shrugged and laughed.
“Can you believe that we have to go apartment shopping?”
Ransom leaned against the doorframe, looking at Holster with a soft smile, all bright teeth and happy eyes. Holster called back to Ransom as he dashed up the stairs.
“Let’s talk about it over dinner Rans, my turn to buy!”
Ransom called after him as Holster climbed the stairway.
“We both know that’s not in the budget!”
Holster laughed loudly enough at that that Ransom could hear it from the car.
Cristiano Ronaldo in the mixed zone after winning the Champions League:Cristiano: Ramos’ season? Well, the truth is Sergio has made a motherfucking incredible year.*laughter from the journalists* Cristiano: “Motherfucking” can be said, right? *laughs*Oh, Cris ♥♥♥