side holster



food truck au 2/??


Jack had one blissful week of texting Eric in peace before his teammates caught on.

“ZIMMBONI,” Tater shouted across the dressing room at the end of practice that day. “Who you texting that make you smile so big?”

In a scary sort of tandem, Ransom and Holster whipped around to look at him.

“Yeah, Zimmboni,” Holster parroted. “Who ya texting?”

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More Ace Dex

Ace Dex combating the casual aphobia that we all deal with at some point.  

“Dude, you’ve never done the nasty?”

Dex rolled his eyes, hard. Whiskey’s tone was just this side of shocked, and it made Dex was to take back the fact that he had said anything at all. It wasn’t exactly that he expected the team to be more understanding than other people, but he hoped that was the case, anyway.

On top of that, Whiskey managed to catch the attention of Ransom and Holster, who were walking past, heads close together.

“Wait, what’s this about someone never smuggling the ol’ bone?”

Ransom gave Holster a critical look, then grinned in that way that only someone on the wrong side of tipsy can. “Playing hide the sausage.”

Holster countered quickly with, “Making the beast with two backs.”

“Assault with a friendly weapon.”

“Entangling the lower beards.”

“Joint sessions of Congress.”

Holster held out a fist. “Bro, pound it out for that one.”

With a solemn nod, Ransom offered tapped his fist to Holster’s. Dex hoped that their (truly awful) back and forth would distract them from what was going on, but instead they plopped onto the couch to join in the conversation. Well, they pushed their way onto the couch, which was already too full, Ransom on one end and Holster in the middle of Nursey and Dex.

Whiskey pointed in Dex’s general direction, and told the captains, “Apparently, Dex has never had sex.”

Holster threw a big arm around Dex’s shoulder and turned toward him. Dex could smell tub juice wafting off of him. “Dex! My dude. My man. Bro. We gotta resolve this.”

“It’s not a problem. There’s nothing to resolve.”

On the other side of Holster, Dex could see his boyfriend’s concerned face. Nursey knew that Dex’s sexuality (well, his asexuality) was still a touchy subject. On the best of days, it was hard for him to have a conversation about. On the days after a game loss and with a group of drunken and less than subtle frat boys, well…. Chances were that it wasn’t going to go well.

“No, but Dex. Dexy. Dex. Sex is so good. Tell ‘im, Rans, tell him about… Shit, what’s a good one for Dex? Crab fishing in the dead sea.”

Dex scrunched up his face. “Dude, that’s fucking gross. And no, whatever fucking euphemism you use, the answer is no.”

On the other side of Holster, Nursey stood up and held a hand out to Dex, and yeah, that sounded like a better idea than having a discussion about life choices with a very drunk Holster. Dex pushed off the couch with a solid fist to Holster’s thigh, maybe a little harder than strictly necessary. He followed Nursey under the caution tape and up the stairs to Chowder’s room.

They spent the rest of the not-kegster (because apparently it could only be a kegster if they won the game) hiding out, watching Brooklyn-99. Dex could feel Nursey sending him concerned looks, but he ignored them. They fell asleep together, cuddling on the thin mattress.

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NurseyWeek Prompt #3 - Challenge.

“Oh, it is fucking on, bros,” Lardo shouts over the incessant thumping of the bass. “You two are going to get obliterated.” She points an emphatic finger at Ransom and Holster, who stand shoulder to shoulder on the other side of the beer pong table. Holster cups his hand over his chin, rubbing it thoughtfully, and side-eyes Ransom.

“She shouldn’t be able to say words like ‘obliterated’ three cups of tub juice in,” he says. Ransom is just beginning to nod in agreement when he’s beaned smack in the middle of his forehead with a ping pong ball. Holster gets hit in the same spot half a second later, sending both of them reeling back, spluttering.

“You know, I figured four years was enough time for the two of you to learn not to underestimate my abilities,” Lardo says, tossing another ping pong ball up in the air. She cocks an eyebrow and catches the ball, meeting their gazes. “My mistake. Clearly, you need another lesson.”

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Thorns (Frank Castle)

Pairing: Frank Castle/Fem!Reader
Words: 1750+
Warning(s): Kidnapping, violence, swearing, slight sexual assault(?)
A/N: An idea that popped in my head that ive been working on for two weeks l o l

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thealidoyle  asked:

Ransom and Holster go see Power Rangers together and relaize half way through the movie they are actually on a date. With their best bro.

“I can’t believe there is an actual Power Rangers movie, bro! And we’re seeing it! I feel like a kid again.”

Ransom led Holster down the row, wanting the perfect seat to watch the movie. When he found what felt was the ideal middle spot, he sat and pulled a still talking Holster down into the seat next to him.

“Who’d you always want to be? I always said red, but I think I liked blue better.”

Stealing a handful of popcorn, Ransom grinned. “Green was definitely the best, bro. He had all the moves.”

“You mean like these?” Holster started karate chopping the air and when he went for the high kick, Ransom watched their bucket of popcorn sail through the air and land on its side in the row ahead.

Thankfully, the theater was still pretty empty and seeing Holster’s forlorn face at the loss of their popcorn had Ransom unable to control his laughter.

“Bro! Our popcorn!”

“I know, Holtzy. Good thing we got the big one. Free refill! I’ll save our seats, you go replace our popcorn.”


Ransom shook his head and pointed to the door. “Nope. You karate kicked it to the floor, you get the refill.”

Holster opened his mouth to argue, but Ransom just raised an eyebrow and continued to point to the door.

When his best friend hopped over the row of seats below them to grab the bucket, Ransom thought nothing of the fact that he watched the way Holster easily leapt the seats and scooped up the bucket before turning on his heel and walking toward the door. Holster was a good looking guy and Ransom wasn’t blind. And he knew they’d both checked each other out on occasion.

While he waited for Holster to get back, Rans leaned back in his seat and watched as the theater began to fill up. It was a Saturday night, which meant date night. Ransom watched a few friend groups come in and try and find seats, laughing to himself as each group argued over where there were enough seats and where the best spots were. Most of the people coming in, though, were definitely on dates. Rans watched them filter in, giggling with each other and holding hands and staying close.

As more couples came in, Ransom tried to see if he could figure out who of them were on their first date and who were long time couples. He had been enjoying himself for a few minutes, and trying not to wonder what was taking Holster so long, when a voice startled him.

“Excuse me, is this seat taken?”

Looking up, Ransom found a girl pointing to Holster’s seat. “Yeah, sorry. I’m saving it for someone.”

The girl smiled. “No problem. It’s good you and your date thought ahead. Wish mine had. Have a nice night!”

Before Ransom could correct her, the girl walked off and Ransom was left alone with his thoughts. His mind wandered through all the times he or Holster had bought each other dinner, or taken the other out for a movie or something fun. It had always just felt so comfortable with Holster. The easy teasing and laughter and some of their deeper, more serious conversations had happened on those nights. Was this a date?

Ransom scoffed. Of course it wasn’t. He and Holtzy were just bros, nothing else. As that thought went through his head, he suddenly felt sad. He wasn’t sure why that made him sad. He loved being bros with Holster. Holster was…well, he was Ransom’s person.

Leaning his head back against his seat, it hit Ransom, that yes, he and Holster were essentially a couple. “Fuck.”

“What’s wrong, bro?” Ransom jumped as Holster took his seat and handed over the popcorn. “Come on, Ransy-poo, I even over buttered the popcorn just how you like. Tell me what’s wrong.”

Ransom was silent as the lights started to dim. He had planned on assuring Holster that he was fine and that they should just watch the movie, but as the first preview began, he blurted out. “Is this a date?”

Holster started to choke on his popcorn and Ransom started to panic. “Never mind, just forget it, bro. Sorry. Can we just forget I said anything? Please just tell me I’m an idiot and-”

Catching his breath, Holster shut Ransom up by grabbing his hand and lacing their fingers together. “This is definitely a date.”

Ransom had heard the slight catch in Holster’s voice and felt a little better knowing he wasn’t the only one who was nervous. He looked at their hands and smiled before giving a slight squeeze. “Good. I’m glad. A real date. Great.”

Holster rolled his eyes and rearranged the popcorn so he could lean over and kiss Rans’s cheek. “So great.” Ransom opened his mouth to say something, but Holster shushed him. “Movie’s starting. We don’t want to miss any of the morphing goodness.”

~~2 Hours Later~~

 Bro! That was totally ‘swawesome!”

Ransom walked out to the car, hand still in Holster’s smiling as he listened his best friend extol the virtues of the movie.

At the car door, he reluctantly let go of Holster’s hand and turned to face him. “What was ‘swawesome was that you thought the classic ‘yawn and arm over’ move would work.”

Holster leaned in close, forcing Ransom’s back to the car. “Worked on you, didn’t it?”

“Only because I was tired of you looking at me with those big puppy eyes.”

Holster barked out a laugh and started to back away. “And to think I was gonna give you one kiss here and one back at the Ha-”

Ransom grabbed his best friend by the collar and quieted him with a kiss. Holster was frozen for about two seconds before kissing back and pushing Ransom up against his car. They were both content to stand there and continue kissing until the sound of a horn startled them and reminded them both, that they were in the movie theater parking lot.

Sliding into the driver’s side, Ransom waited for Holster to get in and started the car.

Holster reached over and rested his hand on Ransom’s thigh. “Next date, we’re making out in the actual theater.”

Chocobros Ending for FFXV

I’ve been wanting to write this for months: What happened with the guys after Noct Ascended and destroyed Ardyn (because in my mind they live on). 

Warning: EXTREME FEELS. But it has a happyish ending, so there’s that. 


Two of the three were seconds away from certain death when it happened.  

The sky blazed blue and then blindingly white, and a terrible rending sound enveloped the world— as if Eos itself were splitting in twain. The ground beneath them quaked, and each fell where he stood. A powerful gale surged from the palace behind them, swirling dust and minor bits of debris. Shielding their eyes, but fearful of being crushed beneath the daemons each was fighting, they blindly tried to scramble away. The daemons staggered and turned, screeching in agony and outrage against the brilliant light.

And then it was over.

When Prompto opened his eyes, all was dark— but the daemons were gone. There were no bodies, no bloodstains…only the rabble and ruins remained. Ignis lay on his back a few feet in front of him, bleeding from a long slash across his chest. 

Gladio, his back to them, threw down his sword and let loose a terrible scream. It was worse a sound than the one that had come with the light, and it tore Prompto’s heart.

Noctis was gone. 

He had no way of explaining it, but he felt his friend’s absence from the world as surely as Gladio did.  

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In A Flash [B. Allen]

So a lot of my followers/readers enjoy my Sebastian Smythe stuff so I figured I’d make a Barry Allen one and see how people like them :)

Summary: You’re a vigilante from another city and tracked a criminal down to Central City. There, you meet Central’s own Scarlet Speedster and ask for help. And who is Barry to refuse to help a fellow hero?

Also OC!Max, apologies if your name is Max

The sound of grunts and metal clinking and scraping against each other filled the quiet near-midnight air. It was cold for September, a little under fifty degrees. You could see your heavy breaths in the bitter cold air. You swung your katana at the man you were fighting. 

This guy needed serious medical attention. He was somehow able to sprout knives out of his skin and could fling them at his attackers with a flick of his wrist. You had no idea where he came from, but he sure did put up a fight. You did a side flip before roundhouse kicking him across his face. 

“Could you stop trying to kill me so I can arrest you, Porcupine?” You huffed out. He growled at you, making you raise your eyebrow, “I’ll take that’s as a no.” You pulled out the gun from your left-side holster and shot two rounds at him. He narrowly dodged them, and threw a handful of knives at you. One punctured your shoulder. 

You let out a yell, toppling to your knees in surprise. The man, bleeding and angry, fled off into the night. Panting heavily, you ignored the worried shouts from your partner in your earpiece and grasped the dagger lodged in your shoulder. With one quick move, you tore it out of your skin, letting out a pained grunt. “Oh got god sakes,” you breathed, putting your hand on your bleeding shoulder, “I’m fine, Wax Candle. It was just a dagger." 

Your partner-in-crime and tech, Max, huffed at you, ignoring the nickname. "You make it sound like getting stabbed isn’t a big deal,” he retorted, “Who was that guy? How could he do that?” You frowned, clutching your wounded shoulder to stop the bleeding. “I dont know,” you replied, “but we need to find out." 

He appeared a week later. You and Max had been working non stop to try and find out anything about this guy. All you kept getting was dead ends. Max even hacked into the government database. There was nothing. 

Your warehouse base was hidden nicely, off in an abandoned area. You were the local vigilante of your city, Sunton City. It was a bit ironic, considering that Sunton was anything but sunny. Still, it was home. 

You went by the alias ‘The Black Killer’, given to you by the police department, because you were always dressed in black, mainly worked at dark, and no one ever saw your face. While you weren’t as loved as Green Arrow, a vigilante in Starling City, or the Flash in Central, both cities bordering Sunton, people still lovef and relied on you. And yeah, the cops were on your tail, but you wete doing some good, so you didn’t care. 

You considered yourself a good shot and knew your way around a sword. There was a pocket knife in your boot, strapped to your lower arm under your suit, a katana sheathed in your right side beltloop, and a gun in your left side holster. There was a mask covering around your eyes and the start of your nose, and a beanie was placed neatly on your head. 

The police radio that you’d borrowed ("Did you actually steal a police radio?” “No! I borrowed it!” “For how long?” “Forever?”) went off, an officer reporting that Saber Tip – Max named him – had been spotted. 

Grabbing your weapons, you suited up and took off down the streets, hopping from rooftop to rooftop anf hitching rides on top of cars. (“I call it 'Car Surfing’.”) You arrived where Saber Tip was robbing a bank, seeing a barrier of police cars stopping him from going anywhere. You knew better than to believe he was just going to give up. 

And you were right. As you watched from the rooftop, yet to be seen, Saber Tip attacked the officers that went for him. Quickly, you sent off a warning shot to the sky, making the officers pause and Saber Tip to turn. You lept from the roof, aiming at thr man. He quickly covered himself in knives, making you throw yourself to the side. You fell to the ground, kicking yout leg out to trip him. He collapsed as the unwounded officers tended to their injured parnters. Saber Tip got to his feet and ran off, leaving the money he’d stolen. 

“He’s headed for the back roads!” Max informed you through the earpiece, watching the camera planted on your suit from back at the warehouse. You got up and followed him, holstering your gun. You weren’t sure how long you were running for. Your legs ached and your chest burned. There was sweat running down your face, and the sunset had disappeared, leaving only the dark night sky. The entire time, Saber Tip was in your line of sight, but too far to reach. 

Saber Tip finally tired out. With a tired yell, you lunged at him, both of you toppling to the ground. He shoved you off him with his feet, sending you rolling. You struggled to get up, gasping for air. He threw a punch at you, forcing you back down on the concrete. 

You couldn’t hear Max anymore. It was only static. You ripped the earpiece out of your ear, throwing it to the ground. You kicked the man towering over you. It did nothing. He grabbed you by the throat and slammed you into a wall. 

Suddenly, a streak of lighting skidded past, knocking Saber Tip off you. You collapsed on the floor, struggling for air. You sputtered and coughed, spitting off to the side. A red leather-clad foot entered your line of sight. You looked up weakly to see a man dressed in scarlet leather, a lightning bolt on his chest. 

That was the Flash. You were in Central City. You chased Saber Tip to Central City. 

The Flash knelt down, offering his hand to you. “Are you alright?” He asked. Then, he gasped. “You’re the Black Killer! From Sunton City,” he exclaimed, “Oh my god.” You smiled weakly at him and took his hand. He hoisted you to your feet, only for your legs to give out underneath you. 

Flash was behind you in an instant, holding you up. “Woah, you really took a beating, didn’t you? Did you chase this guy all the way from Sunton?” He questioned. You only nodded, looking at Saber Tip, who was lying unconscious on the ground. 

“Here, let me help you,” Flash looked at you worriedly, “My team is almost here. We can get you fixed up.” You leaned into him, exhausted. Sunton and Central City were fifteen miles from each other. You’d run three miles to the bank robbery, jumped off a roof, and then ran fifteen miles without pause, only to fight the criminal. A nap didn’t sound so bad at the moment. 

 You could faintly hear the sound of a car pull up, multiple confused voices, and the soothing sound of Flash saying, “Hey, no, don’t close your eyes” before darkness fell over you.

What do you think? Part 2?


so many thanks to @bilexualclarke, @insideimfeelinpurrdy, and @missemarissa for being just generally amazing, helpful, and supportive on my first smut adventure <3

written for @100kinkmeme, though I failed to finish it before the end date, so here you go!

“You wear one every day - right now, even. What’s the difference?” she says, and he thinks she genuinely hasn’t made the connection. He is really going to have to spell it out for her.

“Yeah but,” he starts, scrubbing a hand over his face, “that one is strapped to your leg, and I can’t get this image out of my head.”

He hears her sharp inhale, looking up to find her eyes dark and full of something he hasn’t seen in them before - the usual sea of blue reduced to nearly nothing.

She steps around the corner of the table towards him, voice pitched low. “What image is that, exactly?”

Now it’s his turn to feel like the air is knocked out of his lungs. He definitely didn’t expect her to react this way, and holy shit it’s definitely turning him on.

He takes the final step towards her, no more than a few inches between them, and reaches down to tap on the side of the holster slowly with his index finger.

“You, wearing this-” he taps once more,” and only this.”

read the rest over on ao3!


Anon: Victor X Reader when victor is sent to kill the reader but when he sees her he just can’t do it? 💕



Oh, BLESS YOU, Anon!!  I’ve been wanting to write Victor since my very first fic!


Victor Zsasz x Reader

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No Man’s Land

This has been a long time coming but I’m back on the writing wagon and I thought what better better way to come back then with a Valerie centric fic. That girl’s a fighter through and through, but sometimes you gotta step back from the battle and really look at yourself. ((3.5k words Valerie/Danny and Skulker’s here too) Ao3)

Valerie had hated No Man’s Land ever since she was a little girl, but now, seeing it abandoned and decrepit only strengthened her hatred of the place. Tearing through the rusted fencing, she thought back to when it first closed down a few years ago and how bummed everyone was to be losing one of the few “vintage” hang out spots in Amity Park that wasn’t the Nasty Burger.

Well, she thought with a smirk, almost everyone.

She had always taken a small pleasure in being the one to tell the others that the old theme park was finally getting closed after Floody Waters opened nearby,  partially because she wouldn’t have to just stand around the rides looking aloof with the other popular kids anymore and partially because the place had just always felt… off to her. Sure, there were the usual rumors that every town had about theme parks; missing kids, haunted attractions, possessed rides, Valerie had heard it all about this place, and in any other town it would’ve been a lot easier to just chalk them up as superstition. 

“But this is Amity Park,” she said, cautious of her surroundings, “so I’d bet if there was something trying to kill us here it would actually be a ghost.”

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hunger - chapter 14

Hunger master post.

When Stiles is pulled out of the truck nobody bothers catch him, and he stumbles to his knees on a gravel driveway. He looks around quickly. It’s dark, but he can make out trees. They might be on the other side of a chain-link fence, but Stiles can’t be sure. There are no streetlights here. The headlights of the truck illuminate a squat, ugly building. One of the men hauls Stiles to his feet and pulls him toward the building. Stiles struggles to keep pace with the man.

What was it his dad always said? You co-operate to make it easier on you, not on them. Don’t ever be an accomplice in your own murder. Stiles is a cop’s kid. His and his dad’s conversations over dinner would have raised a lot of questions in any other household, but mostly his dad was trying to set him straight after Stiles watched too many shoot-em-up action movies and thought that all it took to escape an entire cabal of armed terrorists was a single handgun and a couple of wisecracks. Which was not, his dad said, the way to survive a hostage situation at all.

Stiles doesn’t think either of them ever would have thought he’d actually need to know this stuff.

The first step is to open a dialog, right? To show them that he’s a person too, with thoughts and feelings and a life as valuable as any other.

“What is this place?” Stiles asks, forcing the words out against his panic.

“Shut your mouth,” the guy says.

So much for building a rapport. Stiles jerks his head in a nod to shows he understands, and concentrates on not stumbling again.

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Dangerous Eyes Ch 1:This is why I should have stayed in bed

*Originally a one-shot,this is the chapter that started this in its entirety

Ao3 link :Dangerous Eyes

All Jeremy had wanted to do was sleep.He wished he was back home,curled up in his bed.

But no,Matt had had to remind him that he was the one going to the bank to cash the check for their latest job and that he was in charge of breakfast.So that had prompted the man to grumble his way out of bed,into a hoodie,sweats, and tennis shoes before heading out past the room of the third person in the apartment,whose head Jeremy could see poking from the blankets.

“So hello there everyone!”That had lead to now.Five people had burst in.Dressed in really creepy mask and cheap suits,they didn’t have any specific identification about them,but for some reason he recognized them.

The Fake AH Crew was notorious criminals,known for chaotic heists with spectacular results.However Jeremy was just annoyed.He hated early mornings and to add being a hostage in a bank robbery…

He was very,very annoyed.

His power spiked then,like it always did due to his linkage to his emotion.Jeremy cursed to himself,drawing his hood over his head and curled up to hide the glow that was starting from his eyes.To top it off,he hadn’t had a flare up in a while…

Footsteps grew closer,and Jeremy chanced a glance up.A tall man with a black ponytail was walking closer,eyes on them.He had an assault and seemed to be whistling.Pretty calm in a way.

Jeremy noticed then there was also a pistol on his belt.Aimed at the floor…

A plan shot through his sleep deprived mind.Of course.He just had to…

Jeremy looked up and focused on the pistol.Those around them were too terrified to look up,but those who did would have noticed a gold glow in his brown eyes.


Ryan was unprepared for the cocking sound in his side holster,and for the sound of a gun firing. The sound made everyone,hostages and robbers alike,jump.

What the hell was that?”Michael yelled in his ear, “Don’t tell me you got trigger happy,Ryan you crazy bastard !

“I didn’t shoot,I swear!The gun is still at my side!”Ryan looked around and was happy for his power of invulnerability, “I-”

“Sonuvabitch!”Geoff cursed this time and Ryan and Jack,who was guarding the stairs down,turned to see him hit the ground as his shoes were pulled off his feet,quite literally “What the hell was that?”

“What’s happening?”Lindsay asked as she and Michael shoved the money into the four duffels.

“Some weird stuff-holy shit,give me that!”her gun suddenly wrenched from her hands,Jack lunged and grabbed it,carefull as to not fire it at Geoff,it’s intended target, “Something is wrong here..”

“No shit!”Geoff grabbed at his floating shoes,letting go of his gun and cursing as he pulled them down into his arms,just as nearby box of paper exploded with a loud boom,making the three Gents turn sharply and the hostages to cry out.

“Whats going on?!”the two down below yelled

Another box went off.Michael and Lindsay hurried their collection down below and one of the tellers was finally brave enough to press the silent alarm,before crouching down.

“Guys,I think we’re not the only Users here…”as Jack spoke,she noticed the small man with the glowing eyes in the far back of the room,hidden by cowering forms and crappy chairs,but with a clear view of all three of them, “Shit,PK User.10 o’clock”

“What in the-”They turned just in time to see the room wrap and another man to appear,wrapped in an oversized hoodie.He looked at them.He was a tired eyed individual,wearing a bandana mask on the lower half of his face.

Seeing their expressions,the man just shrugged,before grabbing the glowing-eyed  man and teleporting away.The three Gents were in shock at what happened.

“That was…” Jack managed.

“Interesting”Ryan finished.No one had expected anyone like them in such a random place,especially a PK User of that caliber.

The mood was then broken by Michael and Lindsay appearing from the stairs,weapons ready.

“Some fuckers called the cops,we gotta go!”Michael said,bringing them back to reality.

“Right.Everyone knows the plan right?”Geoff asked as they ran.

They nodded.Michael tossed a duffel to Geoff,and another to Ryan,taking the third from Lindsay.

“Then I’ll see you assholes later.Jack,come on!”with that the five split,vanishing just as the cops finally arrived.

For that other anon.

Voltron season 2 spoilers ahead.

“Who are you?” Keith demanded, voice broken up by pants from fighting off the bacteria. Hunk was off to the side, glancing around the intestines of the beast- Keith couldn’t for the life of him remember what the damn thing was called. “You helped us, we deserve to know.”

The Galra leveled him with a gaze, body stiffening. Hunk peered over at the duo, eyebrows raising in a question at Keith, but Keith gave him a wave. He was fine for now. They did have a mission, but Hunk knew what he was doing far better than Keith did. “Come on. Clearly you’re not working for either side. You’re…what, a freelancer?”

The Galra shrugged, hand curling around their weapon tentatively. Keith sighed. “Fine. Don’t tell me then. I just wanted to thank you properly.”

He twisted towards Hunk, ready to ask if he needed help, when a hand latched around his wrist. He flinched and Hunk straightened, fingers flexing over his bayard protectively. The Galra looked up over Keith’s shoulder at him, and the red paladin swallowed. “I’m fine, Hunk.”

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anonymous asked:

Dexnursey + babies!

“What. Is. Happening.” 

Dex did not sign up for this shit okay? He came to Samwell to play damn good hockey, get damn good grades, and end up with a damn good job after he’s all said and done. He did not come here to have Emotions ™ while watching his obnoxiously annoying d-man play with some random child. He did NOT.

“Coach Hall’s youngest kiddo,” Lardo explains sagely, expression neutral as she keeps a careful distance from the child in question. “I think his wife is out of town or something.” 

“Huh.” Dex is too busy watching the baby pull at Nursey’s hair while giggling to say much more than that. Nursey’s sitting on his ass on the ice, helmet tossed to the side and baby (well… toddler, probably. The kid looks like she’s two or three. Dex would know, he’s been around enough children) held aloft in his arms. As Dex watches, Nursey pulls the kid closer and blows a raspberry on her tummy, eyes lighting up when she giggles. 

Just to be clear, Dex really, really, did not sign up for this bull shit.

“I think I need to leave,” he mumbles, still staring at the spectacle on the ice (and resolutely ignoring the way Lardo is smirking at him). And he is going to leave, once he can stop staring at how big Nursey’s hands look compared to the little Hall-child and stop thinking about how maybe Nursey would be a great dad someday. He’s going to leave, he’s leaving right now, and he’s definitely not thinking about coming home from a long day at work to find Nursey asleep in an easy chair with a little curly haired baby asleep on his chest and an old dog (it’s a Beagle) asleep at his feet. Nope. Absolutely not happening whatsoever. 

“Yo Dex!” God help him. “Check this out.” Still holding the kid, Nursey clambers to his feet, somehow managing not to trip himself or drop the kid in the process. He starts to skate around, sliding backwards and spinning as well as he can in hockey skates. Coach Hall’s daughter shrieks and laughs as he goes, her little eyes wide with excitement when Nursey lets her rest her little feet on top of his skates. 

“This is so unfair,” Dex says, not even caring anymore that Lardo is still standing there and has been joined by Ransom and Holster. No one responds, but then Ransom shrugs and steps out onto the ice, smiling at the little girl as he introduces himself.

“Cruel and unusual punishment,” Holster whispers, his cheeks a little pinker than usual as he stares dreamily towards the ice. 

“You guys are pathetic.” Lardo shoots Dex one last rude look before walking away, probably to do something equally pathetic. Like call Shitty just to tell him about Holster and Dex being pathetic. Pot; kettle. Or whatever. 

Dex glances back towards the ice, and briefly considers just… moving back home to Maine so he doesn’t have to deal with this nonsense any longer. Nursey and Ransom each have one of the little girls hands, holding her upright as they pull her slowly across the ice on her tiny blue skates. They’re both beaming and she’s laughing and yelling for her dad, and Dex might actually die from this.

“I’m going to marry him.” Dex side eyes Holster, deciding eventually that he was not supposed to hear that and he probably should keep his big mouth shut.

Especially since his hypocritical ass can’t help but think the same thing. 

Ticking Time Bomb Ch.5

Pairing: Steve x Reader

Warning: Swearing, Smut, fighting

** Russian Terms
Malyutka (Little One)
Moya lyubov’ (My Love)
Grubyy (Rude)
Beda (Trouble)


Steve and Reader aren’t close to being the same, she’s a ticking time bomb with an attitude to match her wild hair. A spy and a history with Nat, she isn’t open to many if anyone.  But going under cover with Mr. America could change everything for her, who knows what lies under all that anger, hostility, cold attitude and brightly colored hair.

Originally posted by james-nat

“Nat and Buck should be back any minute, I have to go into the company and fill Mark in on what happened with you.” Steve walks into the living room where he had set you up including a pair of his sweatpants over your shorts, pillows, and blankets with the remote to the TV. He’s wearing light wash jeans and a black T-shirt with his black leather jacket, he looks God like in something so simple. If anything was going to make you have an aneurysm it was going to be him.

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Detachment Studies

A soulmate doesn’t always mean a lover. Sure, that’s how the romances go in the movies – revelations of matching soulmarks, followed by candlelit sex scenes – but real life is more complex than that. Plenty of twin sisters are born with matching marks. Sometimes, a mother gives birth to a baby who’s carrying her identical mark, and that mother and child will grow up each other’s best friend. Artists find their muses, and business executives find their right-hand-men, in their soulmates. It’s platonic just as often as it’s romantic. Torrid romances with soulmates can end – though, of course, lasting friendships usually form in their wake – and happy, successful marriages can be forged and maintained in the absence of matching marks.

Ransom’s parents, realists and pragmatists that they are, have drummed that into his head. “Don’t take it as a sign of destiny,” they tell him. “It’s a biological process, but like most biological processes, we’ve found ways to overcome it.” When Ransom – then young Justin – asks what that means, and aren’t they mated, they join hands and nod and sigh. “It’s like this, honey,” his mom explains. “It’s easiest to  remain physically close to your soulmate after you meet. But there are other ways around it, too. Many soulmates manage by just emailing each other a few times a week. They keep their mental synch that way. And even if you don’t – most people are okay.”

“They call those people detached,” Justin says. “Someone says Mrs. North is detached and that’s why she’s such a grump.”

“That’s a myth,” his father says. “The great majority of people can handle being detached, just like we can handle all the other stresses in our lives. You may not be as strong or as smart as you would be with a soulmate, but that doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with you. Some people do have a hard time, but most detached folks are just like you and me. They’re not the people they would have been, but we’ve all got things about us that are less than perfect.”

“It’s stupid,” Justin says. “Why would God make us like that? Why do we need someone else to be the best we can be?”

“A lot of things life deals us are stupid,” his mother says with her characteristic sunny laugh. “The best we can do is to figure out how to deal with them.”

Justin goes on thinking the whole concept is bullshit. He gets into science, medicine and biology, trying to figure out what on earth is the point of soul mating. He never really gets an answer on that front. What he does discover is the detachment studies – the emerging art and science of helping those who, for whatever reason, have met their soulmates but now have to live without them. He decides he wants to go to medical school, create a practice built around helping the detached live their lives as fully and happily as possible.

All the while, the thought of his soulmate never really crosses his mind. If he meets them, he meets them. He’ll go from there.

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Digging through piles of scrap for things you could use or sell, pulling items from the wreckage of an airplane that had crashed long ago. Most of the good pieces were missing, but there was still usable junk in the cabin.
Stuffing some scrap pieces into your bag and slinging it over your shoulder. For today, you thought this was good enough, and would head off to find more wreckage to sift through. Climbing out the gash on the side of the cabin where the plane had broken in half, you climbed back down into the umber sand of the outback.
“Oi!” You heard a voice from your left and turned to face the man making a ruckus, “Ya better have a explanation for why yer out here, mate.” He hobbled quickly towards you, weapon drawn.
“No worries,” You said, keeping your voice level and confident, hand on the side arm you had holstered to your hip, “Just lookin’ for scrap, same as ya I’d reckon.”
“Nah nah nah,” He said, shaking his head, he let out a shrill laugh, “This is my territory, bloke, ain'tcha seen ma sign!” He said, gesturing to the exterior of the cabin, where a crudely drawn smiley face had been sprayed on the building.
He was closer now, within arms reach, and you saw now that you were taller than him, at least in his current posture, hunched over from the weight of the tire strapped to his back. Even for a junker he was caked in an obscene amount of grime and soot.
“So what?” You asked, hand clenched tighter on your firearm, “Anyone can tag a buildin’.”
“‘Cause what’s mine is mine,  pretty boy,” He said, he was close enough for you to smell him now, and you grimaced slightly.
“But maybe somethin’ could be arranged?” He reached out to touch your face now, grabbing your chin, surveying your face. You pulled your head back, making him release your chin, his fingerprints marring your face where he touched you.
“Wot, too good for ol’ Junkrat?” He said, “C'mon, pretty boy, I can make ya feel real nice, and I don’ even gotta rough ya up none.”

this thing is over a year old and i only remembered it bc it was still in my google docs. anyway i really liked it but know i’ll never finish it, so i’m gonna just post what there is of it :)

organized crime rhack au

warnings for: violence, murder, drug use, unhealthy relationships, time jumps, also a nsfw scene

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