#and even then that guy and his beggar girlfriend would probably be there

[psychoticwillgraham]

after this vacation I’m not going in public for like two months bc my social battery is in microscopic pieces rn

#I’d only go to the shop to see my boys #and even then that guy and his beggar girlfriend would probably be there #and if I pulled anything good she’d try to get it off me for free #or just steal it #mom’s gonna get me a gift box edition edition of ixalan #as an early Xmas present but that guy probably already brought straight off the truck #have an update about that: he’s now spent FIVE THOUSAND DOLLARS on ixalan boxes ALONE #trying to pull a certain card and the 2k+ cavern of souls #I’ve only gotten one box and about two dozen packs #and pulled THREE fucking cavern of souls cards #man just has the shittiest luck ever meanwhile the boys always #want me to be there while I’m cracking packs or they are #bc when I’m there at least one person pulls a $10+ card #EVERY SINGLE FUCKING TIME???

[trensu]

I've recently reread Boyfriend Material by Alexis Hall, and I can't help but think it'd be a fun modern day steddie au.

It's a bit of a stretch, probably, but Eddie could work at a struggling, obscure charity. Not sure exactly which role, but the charity is so small it doesn't even matter because if any of the, what, five or so people who work there get caught in a scandalous situation it would mean bad, reputation-ruining press for the group. And Eddie getting photographed while he, idk, drunkenly makes his way home after a quickie in the alley behind a bar or smth is MOST DEFINITELY bad press. Now, Eddie may not care what people say about him, but he also doesn't want to be responsible for the charity's collapse either. He's not heartless.

In order to rehabilitate his public image, he needs to get himself a respectable boyfriend. You know, so he could be a PR-friendly type of gay. Does conforming to heteronormative expectations for his hypothetical queer relationship make him wanna grind his teeth to dust? You bet your ass it does!! But again, he can't have the death of the charity weighing on his conscience.

He's bemoaning his plight to his bestie Chrissy, who has the brilliant idea to hook him up with Steve Harrington.

"No. Nope! No fucking way," says Eddie. "He's a dick who thinks he's better than everyone else!"

Chrissy gasps in offense. "Not true! Steve's actually a really sweet guy, and I know if you just gave him a chance, you two would make a great couple!"

"Chris, I already gave him a chance. Like, two years ago at that Halloween party. Put the moves on him, took him home, and I woke up completely alone, fully clothed and sadly untouched the next morning. And the one time someone thought we were together? He laughed. Like the thought of dating someone as low on the social ladder as me was absurd. The guy hates me!"

Chrissy looked completely baffled. "Well that doesn't make sense at all! Robin said-- nevermind, there must've been some misunderstanding."

"I know you find this hard to believe, my love, but your girlfriend is, on occasion, absolutely and completely wrong," Eddie crosses his arms defensively. "Whatever. It doesn't even matter because it's not happening. And he's not even my type."

"Now that's a lie. He's totally your type," Chrissy counters smugly. Damn her for being his best friend for nearly a decade and knowing him better than anyone else on the planet. Eddie, maturely, sticks his tongue out at her, which she immediately reciprocates because they're besties for a reason.

"Even if he wasn't," she continues, "he's exactly the kind of person you need for this! He's a Harrington, for one." Chrissy starts ticking off fingers. "He chose to work at a public school even though he could've gotten a cushy, better paying job at his dad's company. Not to mention, his inheritance is big enough that he doesn't even need to work!"

"Ha, so he's stealing jobs from more qualified candidates to fuel his own ego!" Eddie tries, but Chrissy narrows her eyes so venomously it makes Eddie feel a twinge of guilt for the admittedly baseless accusation.

"And, and!" Chrissy plows on as if Eddie hadn't interrupted, "he volunteers at after-school programs for underprivileged kids. You literally cannot find a more wholesome or attractive guy for this. I mean, his own parents still parade him around occasionally when they wanna score brownie points with the press."

Eddie opens his mouth to make a snarky comment and instead grimaces when Chrissy kicks him under the table. Then she metaphorically kicks him in the teeth with the most sugary sweet tone when she finishes her last, most pertinent point.

"Besides, beggars can't be choosers."

Eddie throws his arms up in dramatic defeat. "Fine! Fine. I guess I can at least give this a try."

Chrissy squeals excitedly and starts tapping rapidly on her cell. "I'll let Robin know so she can help set up a date!"

Eddie drops his head in his hands and lets out a pathetic, drawn-out groan of misery.

"Trust me, Eddie-bear, this is gonna work out perfectly and you can thank me in your wedding speech when you two get married!"

--

One week later sees Eddie walking into a restaurant that is so far out of his price range it might as well be on another continent. He feels severely underdressed in his only pair of unripped black pants and the wine-red button down that Chrissy bought him for his birthday that was a size too small and pinched uncomfortably across the shoulders.

Steve spots him from the table he'd picked for them, and stands up as Eddie approaches like some kind of old timey gentleman. Eddie is abruptly certain that if Steve had been wearing a hat, he'd have removed it respectfully as if Eddie were a proper lady. He goes so far as to pull out Eddie's chair for him. A part of Eddie melts a little at the treatment, but a larger part beats that part with a nail bat and feels a bit condescended.

"Eddie, hi," Steve says with a tight smile. "It's, uh, it's good to see you."

Eddie swallows down a sudden bout of nerves. He sees Steve's eyes flicker down, and for a brief, completely insane moment, he thinks Steve was following the line if his throat down to where he had left a probably less than appropriate number of buttons undone on his shirt (which he cannot be faulted for because seriously, Chrissy should know his shirt size by now). But no, of course not, because Steve's eyes continue down to look at the wine list at their table.

"Hey, yeah," Eddie responds awkwardly. "Um, same."

The silence that follows is, in a word, excruciating. Eddie is seriously tempted to take the nearby fork and stab himself in the neck just to escape. So of course when the silence is broken its because they start talking over one another.

"Did you want to look at the wine m--"

"So how expensive is this--"

They stop simultaneously. With another tight smile, Steve gestures for Eddie to go on. Eddie clears his throat.

"I was asking what the price range is for this place? It's not my, uh, usual scene so I don't really know what to expect."

Steve's smile warms a little. "Yeah, no, don’t worry. I'm paying. "

Eddie can't even enjoy the small change in Steve's smile because the trailer trash kid in him reared its head at the implication.

"No! No, jesus, that not what I meant," Steve interrupts. "Look, I picked the place so it's only fair that I pay for this da--uh, outing."

"I can pay for myself, you know," Eddie snaps. "Just because I didn't have a trust fund doesn't mean--"

Eddie scowls. "No, I'd rather pay for myself, thanks."

Steve sighs and looks like his wants to pinch the bridge of his nose like a fed up school teacher. Which, good. Serves his privileged ass right.

"Listen, just let me pay this time. Please?" He barrels on before Eddie can protest. "If it helps, the chef is one of the kids I used to babysit when I was in high school, okay? She only started working here a couple of months back and I want to support her. She's fantastic, I promise. Worth every penny. But you know how it is. No matter how good you are at something, there's always moments of doubt and she's had a rough week."

Steve finishes with stubborn set to his unfairly handsome jaw. Jesus H Christ, what was Eddie supposed to do with that? Of course Steve had to have a stupidly cute and sentimental excuse to pay. Now Eddie will be the asshole if he kicks up a fuss.

"Fine," Eddie begrudgingly relents. The smile that forms pretty pink lips is one of the sweetest Eddie's ever seen. It crinkles the corners of Steve's eyes. Eddie swallows nervously and goes back to fiddling with his fork. There's a fluttering in his chest that he's trying hard to convince himself is heartburn. It isn't.

Fuckfuckfuck.

Steve's started pointing out different dishes that this El person apparently invented herself, but Eddie can't focus on his words. He's too entranced by Steve's voice and the way his whole demeanor relaxed when he started talking about El. Eddie again contemplates stabbing himself with the fork.

He's so fucking fucked.

#stranger things #steddie #eddie munson #chrissy cunningham #steve harrington #fake dating #trensu tells stories

[smutsonian]

Hi there! Can I please place request? How about nomad Steve angst with loads of tears with happy ending? Make it dark please? Probably he impregnates you and leaves you for someone else but when he sees Bruce taking care of you it pisses him off and he makes you his? Probably takes Bucky to help 👀

keep you safe

steve rogers x reader ft. bruce banner

warnings: dark fic, dark!steve, angst, manipulation, drugging, panic attack, toxic steve(he’s back guys), fucked up shit, not proofread

word count: 3.7k

a/n: ouch... also, this is all over the place. I’m sorry this one doesn’t have smut just pure manipulation and darkness and angst also im going to consider this as a oneshot

masterlist

- So, I’m thinking like maybe you and Steve were together before the civil war even happened?

- Like he’s still this soft puppy and he really took his time with you.

- He was this very shy but very romantic guy. A real gentleman who took you on a lot of dates before even making a move to kiss you. AND you were the first to initiate the kiss.

- It’s easy to say that falling in love with this man was inevitable. 

- It was perfect. He was perfect. You were perfect.

- Then suddenly it wasn’t.

- Steve started acting strange and distant and it’s not normal for you to doubt his love for you because he’s Steve. He always, and I mean ALWAYS make you feel how much he loves you.

- But is it possible that he’s not in love with you anymore?

- Then you find out that you’re pregnant and you would’ve been ecstatic if it weren’t for the downfall you’re facing called your relationship with Steve.

- You’ve been imagining this moment your whole relationship with Steve. How the both of you would be crying with joy and how the both of you will be planning for your future but that’s not happening right now is it? 

- The only thing that happened is the crying part and it was just you crying. Not with joy but with fear. Fear of rejection. Fear of abandonment. And the fear of having to raise a child alone if Steve didn’t want one with you.

- Then flashes of memories you had with Steve appear in your eyes and a smile works its way back to your lips.

- What the hell were you even thinking? Steve would be delighted to find out.

- Steve loves you and he’s just busy with his never ending missions. Steve loves you... Right?

- Wrong.

- The moment you got Steve alone, he seemed very irritated that he’s even in a room with you and that didn’t really help you. You were finding it hard to announce the news and how he’s acting is not helping.

- “Is there a reason for this? I’m very busy, Y/N,” he grumbles but you weren’t offended by his dismissiveness. All that’s going on inside your mind is how he called you by your name. Long gone were the nicknames he always had for you. There was no love when he said your name, only annoyance.

- “I-I have to tell you something,” you stuttered, no longer very fond of the idea about telling him but he deserves to know. Is it horrible to think that maybe he’ll change once he finds out? Will it seem like you’re tying him down with your pregnancy?

- “Well get on with it.,” he says dismissively. Something flashed in his eyes before a grin falls on his lips. For a moment, you thought he was back to his usual self and that made you breathe a little better. “I have to tell you something as well,” he adds before motioning for you to continue.

- “I... Steve, I’m pregnant.” You just went for it, afraid that you may back out when you stalled more.

- Steve’s reaction was nothing you expected. He was too relaxed and you didn’t know if you’re going to be relieved or scared.

- “And I want to break up with you.” His face showed arrogance and the smile that you used to love so much made your skin crawl. It’s like he lived on making you feel this way.

- What exactly were you feeling? Betrayal? Sadness? Anger? No. You can never bring yourself to be mad at him. 

- “Is that all?” He asks, his tone getting really impatient that easily makes you feel very belittled and insignificant.

- You can’t find yourself to do anything as Steve rolls his eyes before turning around to walk away. 

- You managed to whisper a small “W-wait.” Thankful for his super soldier serum for hearing you.

- He stares at you, still impatient. 

- “I-Is that it?” Your eyes started to water, everything falling into you and you start to realize what’s happening.

- “A-are we over? That’s it? You’re breaking up with me because y-you don’t want t-the baby? We can work things out, Steve. It’s... I- It’s normal for couples to not get along sometimes. We can work things out. We always do!” You didn’t even realize that you were crying, whining, or sobbing. You just remember trying your best to make him stay.

- “This is really pathetic, Y/N. I thought you were better than this.” He shakes his head in disappointment which only added a new scar to your heart. You don’t want him being disappointed by you. 

- “You want a reason? I’ll give you one. I’ll give you more than one. We are no longer working out. It’s not the same anymore. We’ve obviously fallen apart and I met Sharon...” His face shows guilt and you being so in love with the man, that guilt gave you hope. If he feels guilty then maybe he still cares about you...

- “I never did anything with her, though. Not when I’m still with you. I’m not that kind of man. I’m doing you a favor by breaking up with you. I’m not going to cheat on you, Y/N. I cared about you. I loved you. But this is the end for us. As for the pregnancy... Time changed a lot in this place. I’m pretty sure there are lots of choices for you...” He gives your shoulder a pat before turning around and leaving. Never once looking back at your disheveled form.

- Your heart hurt. The pain was all over you and your ears were ringing and all that’s going on inside your mind is how Steve left you. He told you that he cared and loved you and that’s all in the past now.

- If you didn’t know whether to be relieved or scared earlier, now you do. 

- And just like that, you forced yourself to leave. You didn’t know what to do, who to call, where to go. You just know that you had to leave the tower. You were no longer with Steve. You didn’t have the right to be in that place anymore. 

- You just had to go.

- You were never really trying to move on. You tried but then you gave up because you can never get over a guy like Steve. You loved him. You still love him. Him loving someone else doesn’t really stop you from loving him. You should but you can’t. And you really didn’t want to. 

- You stayed at a friend’s house for a while. They were nice enough to lend you a place to stay, though it’s for a limited amount of time, you were still very thankful. Beggars can’t be choosers.

- You never heard from Steve. Last time you got an update about him was when the news reporter was announcing that the hero was a wanted criminal now. Something about the winter soldier. 

- You immediately realized that the winter soldier is his long time friend from all the stories that he used to tell you when you were still together. 

- You didn’t know what to feel but you forced yourself to not care. You can’t do anything about it. You only hoped he was in a safe place. You shouldn’t care that much but you did. You still can’t forget about him. Not when you’re carrying his child.

- You were walking around the city, desperately finding a job when you bumped into him. 

- Bruce Banner.

- You never really got to get to know him much because when you met him, he was timid and you only ever really talked to him when you bump into him in the tower. And then he disappeared and that’s that.

- But he’s there right in front of you and you didn’t think he’d actually notice you or remember who you are but he did. And he greeted you with a smile. A smile that he never really wore back then.

- “Y/N? Is that you?” He laughed before bringing you into a hug. Well, that’s new. 

- “Bruce? Where have you been?” You laughed before returning the hug.

- “It’s a long story... How are you?” He offered to treat you lunch and you followed. You’re basically homeless in a few days so might as well accept blessings when you can, right?

- You told him everything that happened. You told him that you had no idea where Steve is because you broke up before he became a war criminal.

- He noticed your growing stomach and it was quite hilarious and adorable how he was so shy about asking so you told him about it.

- “Yeah, I’m pregnant.” You chuckled at his embarrassed face then apologizing to you for staring. You waved it off, telling him that it’s fine.

- “Sorry to ask but Captain left you even after you told him?” Bruce looks bewildered and disgusted and you could only nod in response, face falling at the memories.

- “Where are you staying right now?” Bruce asked with worry written all over his face.

- “At a friend’s...” You so desperately wanted to ask for help but now is the time that your pride decided to show up.

- “I don’t think that’s safe for you and the baby... You were... The captain’s girlfriend and people can use you for bait. Especially now that he’s wanted... Listen, the tower is really empty right now. Only Tony, Rhodes, and I. I can talk to Tony about it. You can stay there and nobody would even know that you’re there. I’m staying there and nobody knows but Tony...” Bruce’s words gave you hope and you could only nod in tears of joy. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad for you.

- You understand why Bruce wanted to be hidden and that’s something that the both of you would bond over.

- After a few more months, you got bigger. (yep, you kept the baby and fuck steve and his fucking fuckity fuck)

- Bruce is a doctor and you grew to trust him as time went by so it’s normal for him to be the one checking up on you.

- You became very close with Bruce and you found solace in him. He just seems like he knew everything that he’s doing and you felt safe with him. You and your baby are safe with him.

- Steve never really left your mind, not when his child is growing inside of you, but you learned how to live without him.

- You avoided the news because you didn’t want to hear about him, an exercise you taught yourself to become somewhat better.

- So imagine your surprise when he shows up at the tower.

- He looked different. Longer and darker hair. Beard. He looked well and you hated how relieved you were at the thought of him being safe and healthy.

- You locked eyes with him and everything came back to you.

- The hurt you felt when he tossed you aside and the hurt you felt when he dismissed you and your baby.

- You felt sick when you saw his eyes traveling down your body and staring at your very swollen stomach.

- You began breathing unevenly and your chest was becoming tighter. Steve made you nervous. You hate how you feel insecure under his gaze. You hate how you feel like you’re disappointing him and you hate your heart still yearns for him.

- You felt hands snaking around your frame comfortingly and Bruce’s familiar voice brings you out of your mind. 

- “Breathe, Y/N… Breathe....” He guided you out of the room, needing the privacy and you thanked him for that after you’re finally breathing properly.

- What you didn’t see was Steve’s fuming face when he saw how Bruce held you and how you reacted to the doctor’s touch. The way you calmed down after hearing his voice. 

- Steve remembered how you started panicking after seeing him and he hated how you reacted that way towards him but he hates how you reacted towards Bruce the most.

- Steve’s hatred was drowned by the swelling of his heart when he saw you and your stomach. You’re still carrying his baby and he’s so thankful that you kept his child. He couldn’t love you more at that moment.

- Yes. He loves you. He came back for you and to see you in somebody else’s arms? To see you being comforted by someone else than him? He knows that he’s at fault and he probably deserve it but he’s going to do better. He’s going to be the best he can be. He’s going to be the best for you.

- He’s going to be the man that you would need. You and his baby.

- He’s got a lot to pay for and he’s going to do just that. If only you can cooperate with him…

- Steve watches as Bruce does your ultrasound. He should be there with you but he’s giving you time. He’s giving you space. He doesn’t want you getting overwhelmed again. It’s not healthy for you or the baby so he stands in the shadows, watching you and the baby on the screen.

- “Is that him?” Your voice wavers in excitement and Steve wanted nothing else but to hold your hand but he can’t. Instead, he just watches Bruce’s hand gripping yours in comfort and that just won’t work for Steve… He needs to talk to you.

- “He’s so small but so big at the same time!” Your laugh makes Steve’s heart swell with joy. He will get you back. He’ll do anything and if you don’t want to… He’ll make you want to.

- Steve finally gets you alone. He didn’t force himself on you. He waited. He waited and waited and now you’re ready to finally talk to him.

- “Doll…” He goes over to you to hug you but you step back, avoiding him. If that didn’t hurt his heart, the words you spoke did.

- “Captain.” Your words were short and curt. It’s like you didn’t even want to be there with him at all. And what’s with you calling him captain?

- “I wanted to talk to you, doll.” His voice was soft like honey and you feel your heart pounding with joy but you remained stoic.

- “Well, get on with it.” You should be feeling some sort of relief for repeating his word back then to him but you only felt guilt and the need to comfort him when his face fell and a dejected expression takes place on his face.

- “I-I want to apologize, first of all. You didn’t deserve anything I said back then. I was horrible an- and… I just wanted you to know that I never wanted to hurt you, doll. I love yo-”

- “Well you hurt me. You hurt me a lot.” You cut him off, the stoic expression you were holding is now gone. Steve’s face turns into guilt and he makes a move towards you again but you stop him with a shake of your head.

- “I don’t want to do anything with you right now. I… I don’t even know why you’re bothering to talk to me right now when you were so eager to get rid of me back then. What changed?” You looked at him with those eyes that Steve always felt weak for. He hated himself for hurting you but that’s the only way for you to be safe. He was going to look for Bucky and that will bring a lot of problems and he didn’t want you to be caught in between his fights. He loves you too much and at that time, he believed that hurting you was the best option.

- “I wanted you to be safe, Y/N…” Steve explained, his hand weakly reaching for you but every time you would reject him just adds another stab into his bleeding heart.

- “Well, fuck.” You spat. Steve looked at you in confusion, almost flinching at the way you’re glaring at him.

- “You wanted me safe?” You let out a humorless laugh and this time, Steve flinches.

- “Well thank you, I guess.” You say, voice not holding any emotion anymore. Steve liked you being mad at him rather than this. He didn’t like how you seem like you’ve given up feeling anything for him. He’d rather you mad at him than nothing at all. He deserves your anger towards him. Not this.

- “Well, you can continue making sure I’m safe by fucking off and leaving me to myself then.” That’s the last thing you said before leaving, never once looking back at his disheveled form.

- Steve hated how he feels but he knows that he deserves every single stab in his heart. He knows he deserves more hurting. He wants you to hurt him but you’d never do that. Not his Y/N.

- You’re right though. He will keep you safe. He’ll show you just how much he can take care of you and make you safe. 

- He’ll make sure to have you back in his arms. You’re going to be a family and he’ll protect his family at all cost. He’s never loved a woman as he loves you. Not Sharon and not Peggy. 

- You never talked to Steve after that confrontation but you still see him. You see him watching over you and you couldn’t help but feel the swelling of your heart whenever you see him.

- You’d see him putting your favorite cereal box down on the counter before you can enter the kitchen so you wouldn’t have to reach for it.

- You’d see him doing simple things to keep you safe and each time, you find yourself longing for the old days you had with him. You find yourself longing for Steve.

- Then it happened.

- Bucky somehow got triggered into becoming the winter soldier and your first reaction would be to find Steve but this time, you didn’t. You went to Bruce. 

- Steve’s jaw clenches when he sees you running towards the lab to find Bruce, your hand protecting your stomach. Steve ran towards the lab as well, knowing too well what’s about to happen and he’ll be there to save the day.

- Looking for Bruce didn’t end well because he found you. Not Bruce but the green angry man. The hulk.

- He was shouting while the winter soldier was watching the green man with interest. He somehow managed to trigger the hulk. Your heart skipped a beat at the thought of someone controlling your best friend.

- “Bruce! It’s me!” You shout but the green man only growled before pouncing at you. 

- You turned around, crouching and hugging your stomach to protect your baby but the impact never happened.

- The sound of clashing and fighting made you turn around and you see Steve dodging the hulk’s punches with his shield and your heart leaped in relief. You relaxed for a second before feeling worried for Steve. 

- It’s like a normal reaction for your body to feel safe with Steve and your brain is starting to believe that too. You remembered his words from before… He just wanted you to be safe. 

- He hurt you to keep you safe and you’re starting to understand that now.

- “Y/N!” You see him running towards you with worry written all over his face.

- “Are you okay?!” He asked, hands shaking as he scanned you for any scars.

- “I-I’m fine, Steve… Are you okay?” You tried to look him over for scars but he pulled you into a hug, crying and shaking against your body as he rubbed his hand behind your back.

- “I thought you got hurt. I thought I failed… I just wanted to protect you…” He choked on his words and you hugged him tighter.

- You understand everything now.

- He just wanted to keep you safe.

- You pulled back from the hug before wiping his tears away with your thumbs. 

- “What about Bucky and Bruce?” You turned to look behind him but Steve stopped you.

- “Bucky’s alright. He’s back and he’s bringing Bruce to the medbay…” Steve breathes heavily, reminding you of the battle he just had.

- “A-Are you okay, Steve?” You repeat your question and he nods in response before pulling you into a hug again.

- “I don’t care about me. As long as you’re safe. As long as you’re both safe…” He pulls back before pressing a hand on your stomach.

- “I’ll feel safe when you’re both safe. I’ll only feel safe when I know you’re safe. Y/N… Doll… I am fucking sorry for hurting you. There’s no excuse for that. I understand if you don’t want to see me anymore... What I did was horri-”

- “Steve.” You cut him off and he looks at you with sadness and regret.

- You cup his face with both hands before smiling.

- “Thank you, Steve. Thank you for keeping me safe. For keeping us safe.” You grabbed Steve’s right hand before placing it back on your stomach.

- “You keep us safe… Thank you, Steve.” You see Steve’s eyes starting to water once more and you giggle before moving in, stopping just a few inches from his face. 

- Your eyes flutter before you leaned closer, finally closing the distance and kissing him.

- You feel his hand moving from your stomach to your back to pull you closer and tighter to his body.

- “I love you, Y/N. I love you so fucking much.” He whispers through the kiss.

- “I’ll always keep you safe, Y/N. I will never hurt you anymore. I’ll be the best husband and father…” He whispers before lifting you up.

- “I’ll keep you safe.” He whispers one last time before carrying you back to your room. The room that you’ll be sharing with him soon. Actually, you wouldn’t even need that room because Steve will make sure to get a place where the two of you can be alone. The tower isn’t safe for you anymore. Only Steve can keep you safe.

- Steve celebrates in his mind as the mission went successfully. With Bucky helping him. With how they were able to drug Bruce’s coffee. Everything went perfectly. You fell right back into his arms.

- And Steve will keep his promise.

- He’ll keep you safe.

- He’ll keep his family safe. 

------

undeserved happy ending for steve but what about it💀

taglist

General: @readermia @unlikelygalaxygiver @xoxabs88xox @anncutamarica @chaoticfiretaconerd @i-love-superhero @caffiend-queen @coconutqueen21 @jtargaryen18 @jennmurawski13 @mushyjellybeans @ninjabucky @evnscvll @buckstaybucky @donutloverxo @rebloggingeverything @adriannajackson @la-cey @awaywithtime @gotnofucks @littlegasps

Anything Chris: @patzammit @princess-evans-addict @shadowcatsworld @notyourtypicalrose @onetwo3000 @bluemusickid @heyiamthatbitch @inlovewiththefictionalcharacters @empath-bunny @slytherinandoutasgard

Chris and seb: @harrysthiccthighss

Marvel: @jemzeraion

#steve rogers x reader #bruce banner x reader #bucky barnes x reader #dark fic AU #dark!fic #dark steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers angst #dark!steve rogers #dark!steve rogers x reader

[sebstanseabass]

Afterglow (A Bucky Barnes AU fan fiction) - Chapter 3

Afterglow chapters

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

A/N: Thank you all so much for the support you've been giving to this fanfic!

CHAPTER THREE

It was a day of sunlight and cold smoke in New York. The clouds split above towering buildings, the sun shining in its full glory. You left the apartment earlier, scared to wake Bucky up, only for him to wake up to his stepbrother's roommate creeping up on him in the morning. You pushed Bucky's face at the back of your mind. Perhaps he just looked like someone you've seen before or you've bumped into. Who knows? New York is a pretty big city.

With your airpods plugged in, and your phone in your hand, you started running on the streets, greeting some people with a smile on the way, ignoring the pain on your head. There was Millie from the flower shop, Bob from the woodshop, Rex from the coffee shop, and Colin the friendly street beggar. After five blocks, you didn't know anyone anymore. Just some strangers on the street you see from time to time but never interact with.

Already nearing highway streets, you slowed down your pace, careful not to crash into some bikers or worse, these honking cars rushing to get to their 8-5 jobs. There was a pang of relief that rushed over me as you stood on the other end of the street, waiting for the walk sign to turn green. It was one of the things you loved working in a bar and handling your own photography gig. You weren't answering to no one and rushing to work like these angry hooligans. You both worked in the evening and on your own time. Steve wasn't a bossy boss who yells at his staff. He was just like one of you guys, but unlike you, he had a sense of leadership.

And you get to run every morning -- even though there was still a throbbing pain on your forehead. Peter will never be able to persuade you to go work in their company or in any company for that matter. But you must commend him for his unwavering determination.

You stopped at a convenience store after rounding a few more blocks and bought a bottle of water which you've finished right in front of the cashier who found her phone more interesting -- or perhaps she was just used to some girl finishing a bottle of water in mere seconds.

"Hey, where's the trash?" You asked. The trash can beside the counter wasn't there. She just shrugged and popped her bubblegum.

You walked away from the store, knowing all too well that she wouldn't say or do anything past chewing and popping her gum.

Right across from where you were standing was a tall, elegant white hotel adorned with golden flecks of some kind of shiny paint, which you remembered was Bucky's. It stood twenty something stories tall and wedged between a coffee shop and a pizzeria. On Sundays, whenever you and Peter would walk past it, he'd never forget to remind you that it was Bucky's "empire." It was no Chuck Bass empire but you must admit, that was one fine hotel.

You crossed the street and stood in front of it, a way of slowing down your heart rate just a few beats low. You were just about to cool down, anyway.

You admired the engrossed name of the hotel on the archway that led to the lobby: WHITE WOLF with a wolf headstone right between it, like the one in The Arcadian. A memory of Peter telling you how Bucky renamed it came across your mind. Before it was White Wolf, it was the Golden something. Apparently, Bucky was in a safari somewhere north or south? Maybe west. You honestly can't keep up with some of the stories. Somewhere in the face of the earth -- he was on a safari and came across a gorgeous white wolf with fur as white as snow, eyes as blue as the seas and skies. Bucky swore the wolf looked right into his soul. That was implausible but it did give him a good name for his hotel. He repainted the whole beige building white, standing out from the other buildings around.

A woman with no shoes made you tear your eyes away from the beautiful wolf headstone, screaming Bucky's name. You stepped aside and leaned in on one of the archway posts. There was a muffled noise coming from her. You removed your airpods to listen.

"...the hell is Bucky? You! Have you seen that son of a bitch?" She approached the valet boy. He shook his head no. Then she went to the uniformed man on his post or was it a podium?

"I haven't seen Mr. Barnes, madam."

You could tell by the sly look on the man's face that he saw his boss probably running down the street and taking a cab, but before even stepping foot on the streets, Bucky probably told not to tell.

The woman's lips were smeared with red lipstick, hair disheveled and was wearing a man's clothing, probably Bucky's.

Was this the thing that happened at his penthouse?

"Okay, I'm just gonna wait for him in his penthouse. If you ever see your boss, tell him I'm not going anywhere."

"Yes, madam."

She went back in, hips swaying along with her blonde hair, not giving a damn at the strangers staring at her as she walked towards the elevators.

The uniformed man caught your eye and you gave him a small wave and a smile. "Crazy morning, huh? Okay, bye."

You chuckled nervously and walked away as fast as you could back to the apartment.

When you got back, Bucky was already up, eating something out of a bowl while watching something on the television. You ignored the memory of you staring at him as he slept safe and sound earlier.

Without looking up, he spoke: "Weren't you supposed to rest?"

You grinned as you walked towards the kitchen, and prepared a protein shake. Suddenly forgetting the wound on your forehead. It didn't hurt as much now.

"I don't listen to Parker." You answered. "I never do."

You set your airpods on the kitchen island then grabbed a shaker, poured in some water and dunked a scoop of protein powder inside. You shook the whole damn thing while approaching Bucky.

You stood beside the couch and faced television. It turned out he was watching some old cartoon.

The image of his hotel flashed before your eyes. "I ran past your hotel today. There was a woman looking for you."

He almost choked on his cereal. You could feel his head look towards in your direction but you ignored him, enjoying the chase between Tom and Jerry on the tv screen. "Can't believe this is still on tv." You commented.

"D-did she say something?"

"Kept shouting your name and stuff. Called you son of a bitch and all that." You stopped shaking the shaker then took a big gulp. "I hear she's planning to burn down the White Wolf into the ground." You stifled a smile, letting the liquid stay in your mouth for a little while. "Then find you and take all your money away."

He groaned, picking up on your tone. "Not funny."

"All of that was true except the last part, though." You finally let out a laugh then looked at him who now had his eyes back on the screen. "So, you leave your girlfriend alone up there? Then come here?" You would've said it was pretty low of him but this was Bucky. You knew he'd done worse.

"She's not my girlfriend."

"She's a girlfriend?"

"She's nothing but a one night stand. Don't have a girlfriend." He sighed, putting down the bowl. It turned out it was cereal he was eating. Cartoons and cereal. Wow. He really did act like an eight-year old. "Then after we... well, you know, she suddenly told me she loved me. I was drunk! Then I felt this rush, like a panic, then when she was fast asleep, I didn't know what else to do so I came here."

You knitted your brows and kept your gaze on him. Last night, he told you guys it was a long story. A thing came up. "That wasn't a long story."

"I was hammered and real sleepy. For me it was a long story." He replied.

You just laughed in response, then walked towards your bedroom. Before you could even finish your drink, Bucky shouted for your name. You yelled for him back.

"Will you come with me to the hotel?" Bucky's voice was loud but small. Like a child asking to go to the playground. It felt more like it with the muffled cartoon noises in the background.

You stepped out of your room, finishing the rest of your drink. A big gulp. Then you pouted at him. "Want me to drive away the scary woman?"

Instead of responding with a simple yes or a slight nod, Bucky shot you a wide smile with his shoulders up, making an accidental flex with his lean tricep muscles on both of his arms, and squeezing his chest muscles while he was at it. He held it for too long that veins were starting to show.

You diverted your attention from his muscles to his face. He tried to look cute as a button but in your view, he looked strained. Yet his smile never wavered. You finally agreed to go with him as long as he took a shower first, telling him he reeked of alcohol.

"Are you always this mean?" Bucky said, but his voice was light and not at all heavy or dark.

"Pretty much." You snickered before going back inside your room.

You were sitting on your yoga mat -- just finished some few stretches -- and watching some tv show on the HBO channel when Bucky came out of the bathroom. A towel hung low on his waist -- you didn't even bother to look at his toned details so as to not freak him out with all the staring since you've been doing that a lot since he'd arrived. You focused your attention back on the screen.

"Were you just working out?" He asked, ruffling his hair.

"Just some yoga." You shrugged.

You let him borrow an oversized shirt of yours. The entire time, he was behind your in your room. Bucky attempted to make some small conversation while you were rummaging through your stuff. "Cool space you got here. You photograph?"

"Yeah." You replied. "It's probably not convenient having a studio space inside my room but Parker and I couldn't afford a three-space bedroom, so yeah."

"It's still pretty cool." His response remained.

Your room was bigger than Peter's since you had to have your studio corner. He wasn't a space hogger or anything so he let you get the bigger room. You had little decorations in your room except for a few photos of college friends, old roommates, and you and Peter, a clock on the wall, some band posters from the 70's like Led Zeppelin and Aerosmith, and the lights you needed for your studio corner. On that side, on the other hand, had more things to offer. Products from previous projects and all the stuff you needed for taking photos like lights, backdrops, tables, a bunch of chairs, and whatnots. Then the walls were just plain white. Yet Bucky still managed to explore around until you found him an oversized shirt.

You threw the shirt towards him. He managed to catch it on the air without looking at it. A quick reflex.

"Do you have some of your photos here?"

"They're in the bar downstairs." You replied. He looked at me with both eyebrows raised, asking a question with his face. "I work there as a bartender and my boss lets me put up my photos on the wall."

"Well, I'd love to see them."

"Actually, there's a shipment coming this afternoon. There will be no people. You can come with me then." You paused. "Unless you have other plans?" There was a part of you that wanted Bucky to have no plans this afternoon. You had a feeling he didn't. You wanted to trust your instincts.

"I have nothing going on." Oh good. "I can show you how I make a mean drink while we're there." Bucky smirked then put on the shirt which had a Rolling Stones logo on the front. He looked down on it and shot me a smile. The shirt still fit him, hugging all his muscles but it was better than Peter's clothes who wear the tightest fits on earth.

"What do you think?" He asked, showing you his fit while still having the towel draped around his waist.

"You look like a rockstar." You blatantly replied. "And hey, I can also make a mean drink. Really mean."

"Please I make the best ones, doll."

"I'll be the judge of that."

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes smut #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes story #chapter 3 yay #bucky fanfic #fan fic #fan fiction #bucky barnes fan fiction

[coffeecomicsgalore]

She... Loves Me?

When Felix deleted the video his friends made him, Adrien reaches out and thanks his friends anyways. Alya and Nino decide to send Adrien the video again knowing that Marinette confessed her feelings in it.

How will Adrien react when his "very good friend" is actually in love with him? Will his feelings come out to explore or will he choose to sit in the sidelines as he figures out these confusing new feelings burying a hole in his heart?

This takes place directly after the episode Felix. There will be chapters on Ladybug, Heart Hunter, and Miracle Queen with some canon divergence in some parts.

Ao3

Chapter 1: Thanks Felix

“Pew, pew!” Alya and Nino exclaimed as they defeated their latest game of Super Penguino.  Their laughter abruptly stopped as an incoming video came in through the group chat.

“Oh, hey. It’s Adrien.” Alya said as she pressed the message.

Hey guys! I... never got your messages, but I’m really touched just knowing that you were thinking of me today. You are the best friends that anyone could ever dream of. I love you, all of you.

Alya smiled as she ended the video and slid the phone in her pocket. “That was really sweet of Adrien.”

“Yeah. My bro has a heart of gold. I’m just glad that it wasn’t him who sent that awful video to us.” He pulled the cap off to scratch his head.” I know my bro. There was no way he would have said any of that hate.”

Alya frowned. “I can’t believe I doubted him for a hot minute. What was I even thinking?”

“You, Juleka, and Rose were holding onto the tablet when the akuma came. At least one of you were upset that Adrien would have even said anything like this. It didn’t matter if you knew or didn’t. That small moment was just enough for that butterfly to attach to your emotions. We didn’t even know he had a cousin, especially one that looks like he could be his identical twin.”

“I still can’t believe he has a cousin so similar. It’s like they were separated at birth or something.” She shook her head and let out a breathy sigh. “You’re right about this whole emotional part. I was just so shocked over it. I wanted to not believe it and I shouldn’t have believed it, even for a second. Rose or Juleka must have had a stronger emotion towards it than I did, but when Hawkbutt releases an akuma, just watch out. But even then... like sunshine boy has any mean bone in his body. I don’t even think he knows how to be mean.”

The teens laughed.  

“Yeah right, Al.” Nino nodded his head in amusement as he watched Alya pick up the tablet. “I think he might be the silent but deadly types. You know, the ones the prey on innocent souls when you least expect it?” Alya raised her brow and stared at him with a deadpanned glare. “Or not! Just kidding?”

Alya sighed and decided to change the subject. “Another round?”

“You’re on.”

The two played for another few rounds of Super Penguino before Nino laid back against his bed with a thunk.

“Alright, Mr. DJ. What’s going on? Why so glum?”

“Everyone worked so hard on making that video for him. Marinette had the right idea to do all this just to cheer him up. If it wasn’t for Felix getting to it, he would have been able to watch it and it would have made his day even better! I mean, you could see how much he loved the fact we made the video in the first place. Imagine if he actually watched it?”

“Yeah, especially since M said something in the video that she was too flustered to even tell me.”

Nino’s eyes widened. “Dude... she didn’t?”

A devious gleam flashed across her eyes. “Oh, yes. She did.”

“Al? Do you still have the video? If I know you – and I do - you have that video saved six ways from Sunday.”

Alya switched off the game and scoured through her gallery. Sitting in the saved video folder was the compilation video. She looked over to Nino and gestured to the paused image and smiled sweetly at him. “Oh look!” She feigned ignorance. “I can’t believe I still have the video. And the poor boy hasn’t seen it yet. Oh no. We can’t have that.”

Nino shook his head as he watched his girlfriend act out. He decided to play along. “Dude, I think my bro really needs to see the video. Why don’t you just, you know, send it over?”

“Don’t mind if I do!”

With two clicks of her messaging app, Alya sent over the video and sighed a happy hum. “Girl. You are going to thank me for this.”

-----

Adrien worked at his desk, tirelessly cleaning up the French Literature outline that is due by the end of the week. With the increase in akuma attacks and patrols, he liked to get whatever he could get done sooner rather than later. He could hear Plagg munching on a bag of cheesy popcorn while his favorite cooking shows played in the background.  

Adrien leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, remembering the feeling of his mother’s presence. A stray tear fell from his eye and he quickly sat up and brushed it away. He missed her just so damn much.

He wished she was still here so they could sit in his room every evening and just talk about their days. How he wished he could smell her flowery perfume or hear her sweet laugh. He wished that she could have seen him go to public school for the first time and saw how happy he is now that he has friends who can share his hobbies.

Oh, how he wished she could have met his new friends. His mom already knew and loved Chloe and loved having her at the mansion. She would have loved meeting Kagami, but something in the back of his mind itched at the thought that maybe she already knew her through the Tsurugi family name.  

He shook his head at the brisk thought.

She would have definitely loved Nino and his laid-back attitude, maybe even give him a pointer or two in the whole directing movies side of things. She probably would have told Alya what it was like to be interviewed by journalists and what Alya should do to avoid being taunted by celebrities in the worst way. She would have loved meeting Marinette and bonded over her creativity and would probably help her with her designs, and she would definitely love how selfless and caring she is...

A happy thought crossed his mind. His friends were so sweet to him today. It sucked that Felix had to go and delete the video, send a ruthless response, and caused his friends to get akumatized over it. Just the thought of it put him into a sour mood. Adrien narrowed his eyes and slumped in his chair, leaning onto the armrest with his head propped up on his fist. He stared at a random spot on the floor.

Plagg could sense the change in Adrien’s attitude and fluttered over to his chosen. While he was not one to show how much he cared, he really did love him and would do anything to protect him. He waited until Adrien looked up from his spot before saying anything.

“You okay, kid?”

“Yeah. Just miss her.” He sighed. “And I’m mad at Felix for what he did. I just wish that I could have seen what my friends sent me.”

“I’m an ancient god so I don’t know much, but is there any way to find a deleted video from somewhere in your phone?”

Adrien nodded solemnly. “No. I played around with it for an hour and I couldn’t find a way. I think Felix went through and really wiped it off my phone so I couldn’t find it.”

Plagg let out a small growl. “Sucks kid. Sorry.”

“Eh, it’s whatever Plagg. Just knowing that they thought about me today is enough. Yeah, it would be cool to see it, but beggars can’t be choosers.”

“Are you sure about that? I beg for cheese all the time and choose the types I want. And I don’t think I’m an exception to the rule...” He said as he licked his paws. “Plus, I think if you asked whoever sent the video to resend it to you, then you could watch it.”

Adrien thought about it for a moment. “No, I’m not going to bother them. But it is a great thought though.”

Plagg rolled his eyes. His chosen is such a sweet kid, never wanting to bother anyone for an inconvenience, even if it was for a simple text with no effort in a resend what so ever. But he knew when to drop a subject if it wasn’t going anywhere.

Adrien got up and was about to gather his things when a ding chimed loudly in the room. He walked over to it and looked down to see who it was from. The start of a smirk crossed his lips as he noticed that a large message was trying to come through. Plagg noticed Adrien’s quick emotions and scanned the notification, looking back at Adrien with a similar smirk.

“Looks like you got your wish kid.”  

“Looks like Alya sent it to me. That’s so awesome.” He smiled at the notification. “Come on, Plagg. I want to watch this on my bed.”

Plagg perched on Adrien’s shoulder as he nestled into the pillows on his bed. The moment they became comfortable, Adrien clicked on the message.

“Oh look, Plagg! Nino sent something.”

Hey, my dude. I’m not quite sure what to tell you except that you’re my man dude, and bros are always there for their guys.

“Dude! He’s such an awesome bro.” Adrien smiled and clicked on the next video. “Aww, Rose sent me something too!”

Unicorns have a saying: even when there’s nothing but gray skies and rain, all it takes is one little sunbeam for a rainbow to appear.

“She’s so bubbly and warm. No wonder she was akumatized when Felix sent that video.” He saddened at the thought again before clicking next. “Oh, Max did too!”

Plagg looked up and saw that this was going to be a recurring theme with each additional sender. He nuzzled a little further and pretended to fall asleep. Seeing him this happy definitely warmed up his little heart.

It’s 100% proven you should feel 52% happier with a healthy dose of laughter, so Marcov has uploaded a few jokes for you starting with...

“I hope some of those jokes are punny!” He started to chuckle to himself. “I’ll have to check out the email Marcov is sending so I can read them before falling asleep. Maybe I can use them on my Lady!”

Plagg just looked at him with one eye propped open. “Hey, Chloe is up next.”

Adrien furrowed his brow. She was his first friend, so she knows more about this than any of his other friends, but this could go in any direction. He hesitantly clicked next.

When my mother left for New York I felt so sad. It... felt like she was... she came back and I know how lucky I am. So, you can count on me, my Adrikins.

“I wish Chloe could be this sweet all the time. I hate how she hides behind this bravado exterior. I miss the old Chloe.” He said sadly. Letting out a sigh, he clicked next. “Oh. It’s Marinette. She’s so sweet and amazing, even if she stutters a bit. I love that about her. And she’s so caring!”

Plagg rolled his eyes as he watched his chosen babble away. “Are you going to click next, or are you going to talk about your girlfriend for the next hour?”

“Plagg! She is not my girlfriend! She’s just a... very... good friend!” He side eyed the kwami before clicking the next button.

Adrien, I love you. I’ll always be there if you need me.

Adrien’s jaw dropped and stared at the screen. “She... loves me?!”

#she loves me #miraculous ladybug fanfic #ml fanfic #adrien x marinette #alya x nino #ml season 3 #Felix

[repulsivepangolin7]

Fic: 31 days of whump (9/31)

A/N: Alright, this is actually one of the few chapters which is connected to another chapter. So, this one and the next one goes hand in hand.

Word count: 1 435

Jingle bells was playing from a store somewhere along the street. People were dressed up for cold weather, even though they were in the city of Angels. Luca smirked to himself as he watched the weird mix of people walk down the street. Some in t-shirts and shorts, some with scarves, beanies and mittens. Didn’t folks realize that it was sunny and like 65 degrees out?

People were walking around with the big and REALLY BIG paper cups of Starbucks seasonal beverages, and he could see a street vendor further down the street selling sugar and cinnamon burnt almonds. He would have to buy some of those.

“How are you doing?” Tuana, Kelly’s mom, asked as she cast a worried glance over at him.

Luca realized he was starting to break a sweat, and paused in order to adjust his crutches. “Good, good. I’m doing good.”

“Are you sure?” she asked, looking up at him, “We could step inside that bakery and grab a bite and some coffee…”

He knew she was bailing him out from admitting that his leg hurt. A broken ankle usually hurts the first couple of weeks after it’s broken.

“Coffee sounds good…” he nodded. He would have admitted that his ankle was throbbing like crazy, if it hadn’t been for her giving him the perfect out. Besides, he could always go for some coffee.

They went inside the small bakery a couple of stores down.

Their first mission was to find a table to sit down by, then Tuana would go order for them.

They found a table standing against the rear wall, with four chairs. Luca sat down with his back against the wall and propped his recently injured leg up on the neighbor chair. He missed a pillow to place his leg on, but beggars can’t be choosers.

“What do you want to have?”

“Coffee, black.” He started, and readjusted his leg, “And something that looks tasty.”

“Like a sandwich? Croissant? Cupcake? Cake?”

“I’ll have whatever you’re having…” Luca chuckled.

“Alright.” she smiled, “Carrot cake then?”

He nodded, “Sure, sounds awesome.”

“How does your ankle look now?”

Luca scrounged up his nose. The surgeon who had operated on him had fixed his fractures with plates and screws. He wasn’t wearing a cast.  “Prolly swollen… Feels like it.”

“We can take a cab back to where we parked later…”

“Nah…” he shook his head, “Feels good to be walking around again. And it’s not that far. I just need a sit-down break.”

She nodded.

 SWATSWATSWAT

 A minute or two later the owner came by, with a slightly annoyed expression. “Hey, you can’t have your feet up on our furniture.”

Luca looked up from his phone. Tuana was still in line to place their order.

“Man, I need to have it elevated for a spell…” his shoulders slumped.

“What?” the owner answered dumb folded.

“I broke my leg at work about two weeks ago…”

“You ain’t got a cast.”

Luca nibbled on his lower lip for a short second, “I know…”

The owner was about to cross his arms to make it more obvious that he was getting annoyed, when Luca leaned forward and pulled the hem of his pants up towards his knee, revealing thick bandages going up both sides of his ankle.

“They secured it with metal plates and screws.” he explained, “My girlfriend over there and I have been Christmas gift shopping for her kid for two hours. My leg feels like it’s about to burst.”

The owner glanced over towards the line, then back at Luca with an entirely different expression, then he looked down at the floor and saw the crutches Luca had hid under the table. “I’m sorry. Never mind… Just have your leg up…”

“Thanks.” Luca nodded.

“Do you want a pillow or some ice to put on it?”

“You have those things here?”

“Sure thing.” the owner nodded, “We’ve got ice in the ice machine, we’ve got plastic bags to put it in. And we’ve got some pillows in the couch area.”

“That’d be great…” Luca smiled.

The owner gave a short nod and headed towards where the couch area probably was, before he a few seconds later returned with two pillows. “Here. You probably want to arrange them by yourself.”

Luca nodded, “Thank you.”

Then the owner went to find some ice for him.

 SWATSWATSWAT

 “What did that guy want?”

“Wanted to know if I had a good reason to have my leg up on one of his chairs.” Luca flashed a quick smile, “He found some pillows for me, and now he’s fetching some ice for me.”

“Oh, okay…” she nodded as she placed their coffees in front of them, “That’s good.”

Luca nodded.

“The guy behind the counter said he’d come over with the cakes in a couple of minutes.”

Luca nodded and leaned forward to adjust his leg and the pillows.

“Can I take a look?” she asked as she nodded towards his leg.

“Sure.” Luca nodded and pulled the hem of his pantleg back up.

“Sure is swollen…” Tuana noted as she placed a couple of fingers against the front of his lower shin, “At least it has a normal temperature. How does it feel?”

She helped him pull the hem back down again.

“Better now that I have it up.” Luca smirked, “It’s fine.”

Tuana nodded and sat down opposite him.

“So…” Luca sat back and looked over at her, “Given any thoughts to what you want for Christmas?”

She shrugged, “Haven’t really thought about it. But you don’t need to get me anything. I don’t think it was the best of ideas for you to tag along today, judging by how swollen your leg and ankle has gotten.”

Luca shrugged, “Hey, I could always get one of my teammates to drive me, or I could get one of them to go buy whatever I decide to get you for me. Stuff like that is easy now with video calls you know…”

“True…” Tuana rolled her eyes a little, “What if I say that I just want your company for Christmas?”

Luca grinned wide, “Well, you just stole my Christmas wish…”

“I’m just assuming you’re going to celebrate with us.” she tilted her head, hoping he’d nod or say yes, or something along those lines.

He nodded, just as the owner came back with a few freezer bags with ice. “Here, I struggled with finding the bags. One of my college kids practically rearranged the back kitchen the last time he cleaned it.”

“Thanks man…” Luca smiled, and let out a sigh of relief when he finally was able to drape two improvised icepacks over his lower left leg. “Thank you.”

“Gotta support our boys in blue, right?” the owner shrugged.

“How… How did you know?”

“Saw Tuana standing in line, without her bestie.” The owner answered, “Figured she finally worked up the nerve to bring her cop boyfriend here. Just had to see her sit down next to you before I was sure.”

Luca chuckled.

“So you got hurt at work?”

“Yeah.” Luca nodded, “Landed bad after jumping a fence. Didn’t help that I landed on top of a skateboard.”

The owner cringed, “Well, I hope you heal up quickly.”

“Thanks,” Luca smirked, “I’ll probably be back on my feet in no time.”

The owner nodded, “Where are my manners, I totally forgot to introduce myself… I’m Ben Neagley.”

“Dominique Luca.” he replied, “Just call me Luca, most people do.”

Ben nodded, “Yeah, kinda picked up on that from Tuana and Macy chatting about you.”

Luca chuckled and glanced over at Tuana, then back at Ben, “Not all bad I hope.”

“Oh, no…” Ben shook his head, “I wish my wife was as impressed with me, and proud of me as Tuana is of you. I’ve been hoping to meet this fantastic Mr. Luca.”

Luca glanced over at Tuana again, sending a flirtatious wink her way.

“Well, I’m just attempting to be the man she deserves.” Luca answered before turning back to Ben, “She’s by far the most amazing woman I’ve met.”

Ben smiled, “Yeah, you have to take good care of her.”

Luca nodded, “Trying to.”

“Oh, stop it… You’re doing a great job.” Tuana smiled.

 SWATSWATSWAT

 The waiter came by with the cakes, and Luca grabbed a spoonful of the frosting on top. “Damn, this is good.”

Tuana nodded before she had even tested it, “Macy and I have this as our coffee spot. The carrot cake here is my favorite. The frosting is a dream.”

Luca nodded energetically and smiled at her.

#Swat fanfiction #whump #roll swat #hondo #hondo harrelson #Luca #dominic luca #dominique luca #Street #jim street #Chris #Chris Alonso #david kay #Deacon #Tan #victor tan #fanfiction #swat #s.w.a.t

[tetsuwan-atom]

Rock Idol Festival! - Last Minute Changeup

@xbloodsoakedx​

Bowen waited back at the stage, it was getting quite dark now.. the concert was not too far away now and concerning enough, the girls where nowhere to be seen. Eyes widened in the direction of Oni and Tenma, who were rushing back to him.. though just on their own, nobody else with them.

"They're not here?"

"They're not here!"

"We checked everywhere, every part of the garden even the bits where the festival ain't being held, there's no sight of them!"

This was very worrying. Where could they have gone? And things were starting to get crucial.

"I've rung Merlin. There hasn't been any signs of abnormal inter-dimensional travel, so they would still be here somewhere. There's a call out for some of the local Operators to search but they could really be anywhere by now. They may not be found until after this is all over. He told me to relax though, there's resources on it."

"Doesn't sound helpful to be honest."

"So.. what do we do now?"

"I've spoken to the stage manager. I'm gonna call Leland in a sec, tell him to bring the trumpeters, Don and the Paisley Strat and anything else we need."

"What do you mean 'anything else we need'? What are you planning?"

"Well the show must go on! As much as it ain't gonna be too hard of rock we can do something! Might as well get you two actually inducted sooner or later!"

"Bowen you're INSANE!"

"We should be out there looking for the girls!"

"I said Merlin is on it! I know the Ministry of Science, they're gonna do all they can! We wouldn't be able to do any more than that! They could be together or separated! Besides, this is supposed to be about the good times! They pulled this off for everyone to have fun and damnit will we make sure everybody has fun! It might not be spooky, but it's gonna be fun! Come on! Buttons up, Ties on!"

"..."

Well, to the dumbfoundedness of Tenma and Oni, they would follow Bowen to the stage, dressing up properly. He seemed to have a bit of intuition, telling them to keep their ties in their pockets as if preparing for a moment of involvement, though he didn't expect it to be the main event.

...

. . .

Bowen was the first to get accustomed to the equipment here. Tenma and Oni would probably find theirs out at the last moment, but it wasn't anything too difficult. The keyboard seemed similar to what they practiced and played on so the sounds should be alright.. and a drum kit was, well, a drum it, it's got everything. The guitar that was meant for Violet, however.

"Holy shit this thing's an AXE!"

"Well what the fuck do you expect? It was meant for MY girlfriend after all!"

"Hey! Beggars can't be choosers! Besides once Leland comes with my own machine I'm gonna pass this off to him for the rest of the performance."

"...So you're playing pass the parcel with her shit?"

"How do you even know this is actually hers? I thought this was just for a one-time thing! Leland's gonna be some time away and for all we know he's probably bringing his own! Stop worrying Oni, relax! This is gonna be great for all of us. This is about the good times, we're gonna make the good times."

"...Bowen's right, man. We gotta save this concert. Might as well make this our debut and there's a few songs we can do as a trio before the rest arrive."

"...Fine... alright.. we're in your hands, Bowen. Don't fuck it up."

"..I'm sure you guys know in your hearts.. I'm not gonna fuck it up.. you're not either. Leave all the negativity at the door, this is gonna be something special! Let's go in and make Halloween magic happen!"

#xbloodsoakedx #DRABBLE #E!Halloween #Probably gonna do a song a day thing starting from tomorrow #LETS SEE HOW THIS GOES

[bearsfakedthemoonlanding]

Friends and Family

[CW: mild transphobic language]

This is addressed to the loved ones of a trans person.  Family, friends, classmates, coworkers, anyone this person has to be around a good amount of time.  Effort and attitude earn you more patience.

Here’s what I mean.  Language shifts can be hard.  I get that.  We all get that.  We wish it was easy, wish that everyone around us immediately picked up the revelations we’ve made for ourselves and switched with no problem.  We want to be seen as what we feel like, and we want it to be easy.  

But I get that it’s hard.  I have a higher voice, so when I talk everyone around me immediately thinks ‘she.’  It doesn’t matter what I look like, or how I act, or what they know about me.  The voice shoots me right in the face.  Slaps a little sticker on me, so I get it. I do. 

But let me give you a few examples: 

When I came out to my parents (as non-binary, about 18 months ago.  we aren’t having the “trans talk” for quite a while yet), and told them my feelings and my identity and my pronouns, they brushed it off.  “Well you’re still my little girl,” my mom said.  “And I’m going to call you whatever I want.  They doesn’t make sense.  You’re not a they.  There’s only one of you.  I’m not doing it.” 

My father didn’t say anything. 

So when they refer to me as “she,” when my mom calls me her “girl,” her “daughter,” a “lady,” “pretty,” “beautiful,” etc etc.  It creates some resentment.  I love my mother.  I love her very, very much and have fought too hard for our relationship not to, but there’s a lot of resentment.  Not that she’s getting it wrong, but that she’s absolutely refusing to try and get it right.  I have no patience for it.  That behavior doesn’t deserve patience. 

When I came out to a coworker back in the midwest (still non-binary, about the same time frame as above), he was ultimately supportive!  He also did that annoying ass “I can’t imagine how difficult it must be” sympathy thing, which irks me, but the gesture is appreciated.

He also said “we probably shouldn’t tell anyone about this,” and listen.  I understand his point.  We were in a place that hardly tolerates binary-trans people, they would absolutely no stand for non-binary ones.  But sometimes he used the correct pronouns, and sometimes he remembered to use non-gendered language.  Sometimes when he didn’t, and I brought it to his attention, he said “I’m trying, but it’s hard.”  I get that it’s hard. Try harder. 

He got a good deal of patience.  He was my first ally outside of college, and beggars can’t be choosers.  Besides, about 40% of the time he did actually try.  It’s acceptable enough.  I’ll take it. 

At my new job I introduced myself with “they/them” pronouns.  I was starting my adult life in a new city with new people where not a single person knew a damned thing about me, and Damn It I was going to start Fresh. 

My boss tried, and what I mean by that is, he legitimately, over and over again tried.  About half the time he would get my pronouns correct, the other half he would say “she” or “her,” and then say “Shit, sorry.”  He started just using my name instead, which... is not my favorite method, but I’ll accept the crutch.  

He tried in other ways too.  Talked about his time as a young man with the queer friends he had made, how he’d stripped at gay bars, about roommates he had had.  He reassured me that this city was good for stuff like that.  He roped me into “male bonding activities,” like quietly pointing out attractive women to each other, bragging about date nights. He not once tried to stop me from lifting heavy things (which is my least favorite thing that people do). He let me talk about testosterone, never seemed even vaguely uncomfortable about it.

When I made up my mind a few months in and made the announcement, saying I was switching to “he/him” pronouns, do you know what he did? 

He cheered.  He and the other guy I was working with both hollared and clapped and they said “Hell yeah, [name] is a guy now!”  And he pulled me aside, and he told me two things.  He told me about a girlfriend he’d had for a long, long time who was transgender, and about how even in photos from her childhood, when she was dressed up like a little boy doing little boy things, you could tell that there was a girl in there.  It just shone through.  He told me that I was like that, that he’d said to other people, “Nah, she’s a man.  She’s totally just a guy[1].” 

So the next day at work, when he was speaking to someone and slipped up, saying, “Yeah, and she said--” and I said, “SHE?”, and he goes “Shit, no, yeah and she, and they said--”  and I said, “He. It’s He, it’s okay.  He said.”

I might have been disappointed, but I am ready to forgive that same mistake a dozen more times.  Because you can fuck up, over and over and over again, but if you actually listen when I talk to you.  If you believe the things I say about myself.  If you trust me to know my own identity, and you respect that.  If you go as far as he did and VALIDATE IT??  Then you’re earning yourself a mountain of patience from me. 

Try again, it’s okay.  Try again, I know.  I know how I look, I know what I sound like, I know what society says, and I know that it’s all a big ol’ WIP.  But if you treat me like a grown up, I’ll respond like one.  Genuine effort garners limitless patience. Dismissal garners you nothing.

---

[1] this could definitely be problematic, since I was identifying as a non-binary individual during the time he would have been saying this, but I’m personally alright with it.  My relationship with my own gender is a little lackadaisical, and even when I was non-binary I clung to a lot of gendered terms on either side of the spectrum, because they felt right.  

I know this is not everyone’s experience, and I know this comment would not be comfortable for a lot of people.  I am by no means invalidating the non-binary identity.  It is not mine, it was simply a pit stop I made on the way to figuring out who I was, and it was a lovely one, but it didn’t fit.  It might fit you.  It fits so, so, so many people.  Find your people, and find comfort in them, and never let a stranger on the internet make you feel bad about shit. 

We’re all just living our own lives, doing our own bests, figuring out what works for us.  This works for me, and I support whatever it is that works for you.

#ftm #trans guy #trans boy #trans men #trans family #transgender #lgbt #queer #nonbinary #pronouns

[storybycorey]

Happy Halfway Point, guys!  

Thanks so much to all of you who’ve been following along with this fluffy, romantic alphabet of Mulder’s!  I hope you’re all enjoying reading Mulder’s thoughts about Scully as much as I enjoyed writing them!

Since we’ve gotten to M (halfway through the alphabet), I thought I’d post the fic up til this point, for anyone who may have seen the individual letter posts floating around and been intrigued. Here is A-M all in one place, for easy reading!

The Fox Mulder Phonetic Alphabet

author: @storybycorey

rating: PG-13

wordcount (so far): 2163

A is for Apple

She brings her lunch from home most days. Well-balanced, just as he’d expect— portions of protein, fruit, and grains—while he grazes a bit less elegantly on a plethora of offerings from the upstairs vending machine.  

She packs an apple once, eats it right in front of him.  Red and juicy, but not nearly as red and juicy as her lips, or at least the way he’s imagined her lips to be after nearly seven years of imagining such things.  He wonders whether, if he ever works up the nerve to kiss her, he’ll taste her on his mouth afterwards, the way you taste an apple—tart and sweet and lingering there. 

He realizes he’s staring, goes quickly back to his bag of Funyuns (Onions, Scully! They’re vegetables!). Later, when she throws her apple core in the trash, he feels a sudden urge to retrieve it, as a reminder of things he wants but probably doesn’t deserve to have.

B is for Basketball

She beats him at basketball one day. Unbelievably. Finds him in the gym one evening after an endless day of seminars. She knows how to find him the way a dog finds its bone—even when he’s buried, even when he’s mangled and chewed-upon and disgusting.  On this day though, he’s none of those things; instead he’s just plain bored.

In her black suit and heels, she stands out like a sharp smear of ink, poignantly distinct amidst the wooden floors and the bleachers. He doesn’t expect a response to his hey Scullz, wanna go one-on-one?, but she lifts her eyebrow in challenge and slips off her blazer.  The tank top hidden beneath is tight and it’s blue (and made of a soft, shiny material his fingers ache to touch). 

He could say he lets her win, but honestly, imagining that mystery material sandwiched between his palm and her skin leaves him much too distracted to pay attention to the game.

C is for Candles

He’ll forever associate candle-light with her pale and trembling back.  With a maroon satin robe and hair that curls up sweetly in the rain (she’d never allow that now). 

Before that night, the only candles he owned were a melted-down cluster from some birthday or another, remnants of a relationship he’d rather forget. He owns an assortment now though, scented and not, but all at the ready should the opportunity arise.  His greatest want is to see the rest of her body lit by that warm, amber glow, to trail his fingertips across more than just her back, to chase the soft shadows around her curves as her breath hitches with desire.

He and the candles are prepared; they’ve been prepared for seven years now. She and her curves and her shadows? He thinks they’re getting there. He hopes anyway.

D is for Dana

Her first name is a secretive, foreign thing to him these days.  Scully is Scully—strong, competent, loyal.  But Dana is an enigma.  He catches glimpses of Dana sometimes—a woman, a girl—and he wonders whether she’s fighting to break free.  It saddens him to think he may have stolen that girlish part away from her, filed her inside a metal cabinet down in a basement office like everything else that crosses his path. 

Sometimes he whispers it and it gives him a small thrill, like there’s a hidden part of her he has yet to know.  He imagines saying it intimately, with his mouth pressed to her ear, but can’t decide whether it feels terribly wrong or perfectly, undeniably right. He only know that his lips are ready, should he ever earn the chance to try. 

E is for Earrings

He almost buys her earrings once. Foolish, really.  But while waiting for a watch battery to be replaced, he can’t help but browse.  The sapphires would match her eyes so stunningly.  Has he ever seen her in anything but small diamond studs or pearls?  Anything but a business suit or hotel room pajamas? He wonders whether she likes dressing up, whether she stands before her mirror and admires herself, deciding between this evening gown or that one, holding earrings up next to her cheek.  

He stands at the counter and looks at the earrings for ten minutes, picturing the delicate arc of her neck and the auburn of her hair and those earrings sparkling between.  He’d be lying if he doesn’t also admit to imagining his tongue tracing around them and his teeth scraping against them and the moan he’s sure would slip from her throat while he plays. 

A pushy saleswoman interrupts his thoughts, asks “For your wife?  Girlfriend?”

He shakes his head, “Neither.”

He leaves with a hard-on and a working watch, but the earrings stay behind for someone with a little more courage.

F is for Friends

They use the term friends sometimes.  Usually it’s partners, occasionally colleagues, coworkers, but really, none of those words does their relationship the slightest bit of justice.  He couldn’t define it to a stranger (should one ask) if he tried.  Hell, he can’t even define it to himself.

How do you define someone so ingrained in your bones, you taste marrow at the back of your throat each time she walks away?  Webster would be hard-pressed to condense that into a single word, he’s sure. Even best friend feels trite and inadequate where Scully’s concerned. She’s not just a friend, not just a partner, not just a lover (even in his most daring of fantasies)—she’s not just anything. 

She’s Scully, and she’s everything.  

G is for Globe

He used to play a game with Samantha.  Spin the Globe it was called.  They played it when their parents were fighting, when they wanted nothing more than to be far, far away.  He tells Scully about it once, when he can tell she can’t get out of her head.  Luckily, amidst the files and slides and mess of the office, he happens to have a globe.

“Spin it, Scully.  Close your eyes and point, and I’ll take you on an adventure wherever your finger lands.”

She rolls her eyes, but plays along, extending her French-tipped fingernail to land upon the spinning globe.  Antarctica. 

“Spin again,” he murmurs quickly, “That one didn’t count,” but she stops him with a hand curled around his like a comma.

“You found me, Mulder.  That was more extraordinary than any adventure.” 

H is for Hands

Once on a stakeout, he holds her hand. 

Hours in a darkened car breed strange and wonderful things sometimes—discussions and games that only boredom can inspire.  He tells her he can read palms (he’s lying, of course, but at least it’s something to do), and she scoffs, but then surprisingly offers her hand.  It’s really too dark to see, but he tickles her palm and bullshits his way through, blathering about wealth and fate until her giggle makes his heart stand still.

“According to your palm…,” he says softly, “…true love awaits…as soon as you’re ready.”

She’s silent at first, and he worries he’s ruined things— ruined seven years’ worth of things in the span of a minute. 

But then, in a quiet voice he’s never heard before, she responds, “I’ll be ready… soon.” 

He holds her hand until their shift is over.

I is for Ice Cream

Her favorite ice cream flavor is Mint Chocolate Chip.  He knows this (even though she doesn’t know he knows this), and once, during a rough case, he brings her some. He sneaks from his room after dinner, stops at three different gas stations before finding his prize. Sylvia’s Sundries and Smokes perhaps wouldn’t have been his first choice of establishments, but beggars can’t be choosers where ice cream’s concerned.

Surprise in hand, he knocks on Scully’s door and, with flourish, whips two plastic spoons from his pocket.  The nice thing about it?  She doesn’t even pretend not to want it.  She smiles a shy little smile and invites him in.  They climb up onto her bed where they scoop big whopping spoonfuls right out of the tub.  She’s full after only a few bites but sits with him while he finishes, lays her head on his shoulder. They watch the Late Late Show until it’s late late late, until it isn’t even the same day anymore.

J is for Jacket

Her suit jackets (he supposes they’re probably technically called blazers) have shrunk over the years.  Dana Scully of the plaid and boxy, of the oversized shoulder-pads, is now Dana Scully of the sleek and fitted, of the black and stylish and sexy.   He finds himself tugging his collar from his overheated neck sometimes. More than sometimes.

He wonders when things changed, because he can’t quite place a pin on it, when she went from a woman he loves to a woman he lusts after as well. Or maybe it’s unclear because he’s always done a little of both where Scully’s concerned. 

She left a jacket (blazer, whatever) at his apartment last year and he keeps forgetting to tell her he found it.  It hangs now in his closet next to pairs of pressed dress slacks.  He catches a glimpse of it sometimes, stands there wondering how soon ‘soon’ will come.

K is for Kiss

Back in the 60s, the 70s, when the turn of the millennium seemed ridiculously far away, Fox Mulder fantasized about the future. His comic books predicted: In the year 2000, there will be flying cars, teleportation devices, vacations on the moon and Mars... 

He imagined the party awaiting him on New Year’s Eve, complete with robot wait staff and space-age hors d’oeuvres.  Never would he have guessed he’d actually spend the evening in a hospital corridor, arm in a sling, nary a party nor robot in sight.

They were wrong about more than just the robots though, dead wrong, because not a single one of those comic books predicted this:  In the year 2000, there will be Dana Scully and her flame-red hair, Dana Scully and her skeptical sighs, Dana Scully and the world not ending while she presses her lips to his for the very first time. 

To think that at one time he wanted robots and jetpacks.  It’s laughable really, to have ever wanted anything on this earth (or on the moon, or on Mars) but Dana Katherine Scully.

L is for Lists

He arrives earlier than usual one morning, finds Scully’s open notebook lying flat on the desk. The beginnings of a list, he’s sure.  Scully loves lists. Books to Read, Articles to Write, Times Mulder Has Driven Me Crazy… He hasn’t physically seen that last one, but he’s sure it exists, somewhere in her purse or briefcase, or maybe just hidden away in her head.  

A quick glance confirms his suspicions. Personal Goals.  

He’s taken aback; he’d expected something trivial. Pros and Cons of Sunflower Seeds perhaps, but this…

He stalls, waits a minute, maybe two, but in the end is much too intrigued not to peek.  

1. Call Mom more often

2. Reach out to Bill

3. Volunteer at the church

They’re all so wonderfully Scully.  He’s not sure what else he expected.  Curiosity satisfied, he’s about to turn away when:  

15. Stop being afraid of my feelings

and below that:

16. Mulder

He stands stunned. He’s joked about appearing on Scully’s lists, but never like this, never as #16, never as a personal goal.  

He makes a list himself that night, condenses every one of his own goals down into just six letters.

1. Scully

2. Scully

3. Scully…

372. Scully…

1049. Scully…

He types her name until dawn has broken, until the printed ‘S’ has all but disappeared off his keyboard.

M is for Maybe

Maybe tomorrow’s the day.  He’ll toss her an innuendo, and instead of just catching it, she’ll throw one back herself.

The sun’ll come out tomorrow, isn’t that how the song goes?  Good things happen in the darkness, too, though—cemetery downpours, X-marked stretches of highway where her hair grows wavy from the rain. He and Scully manage just fine with no sun at all; they thrive in the darkness, no matter what the song says.

He packs up his things on a Friday afternoon, grabs his coat and offers his usual weekend farewell. But instead of Have a nice weekend, Mulder, she stops him, hand to his forearm, “It’s supposed to be beautiful tomorrow… Do you wanna… Maybe…”

Her cheeks are pink as she ducks her chin to her chest, and it’s the prettiest thing he’s ever seen.

“Yeah,” he interrupts quickly, “Yeah, I do.”   He’s a bit too enthusiastic probably, but maybe tomorrows don’t actually happen that often for him on Friday afternoons.  

She smiles, cheeks still flushed, “Okay, then. Tomorrow…”  

On his way out the door he finds himself humming. Maybe the forecast for tomorrow is sunny after all, and not just because a little orphan girl told him so.

to be continued- we still have N-Z to go, and I promise Z will have been worth the wait!

#The Fox Mulder Phonetic Alphabet #A-M masterpost #msr vignettes

[harveywritings92]

Batboys Scenario 1: secret model girlfriend. 2/2

They get you back!

Warning Jason and Tim’s scenarios contain mature situations so if that makes you uncomfortable in anyway skip them.

Dick Grayson: it had been six weeks since the whole S/n incident and Dick was wreck, he gotten rid of his posters and the magazines because every time he looked at them he'd see Y/n crying would cause him to feel angry and ashamed of himself.

 and if that wasn't enough to add insult to injury he's hearing rumors that Y/n [S/n] had gotten back together with her ex boyfriend.

 A beefcake model named Arden Silva apparently there were pictures of them both together... But Dick never bothered checking to see if it was true, it made his chest hurt thinking that she'd moved on from him so quickly...

While in reality Y/n wasn't dating Arden far from it actually; early in their careers he came out to her, and she pretended to date him to keep his family from finding out he was gay; till he was ready to come out publicly about it. They 'Broke up." after he met his boyfriend Daryl and both were kind enough to let her stay with them, until she could figure out what to do and where to go from here...

The last thing she wanted was to run into Dick he tried contacting her, but she blocked him; every night consisted of her getting drunk crying over him or being dragged to some wishy-washy party by Arden which of course caused rumors of them rekindling their relationship. 

No, doubt Dick had heard about it. the mere thought made Y/n wanted to pick up the phone tell him wasn't true...But it hurt hearing how he really felt about her; it did a real blow on her self-worth made wonder how other friends saw her.

Kori of course told her it didn't matter if she were S/n or not; Y/n was Y/n and she was beautiful and the kindest person the alien was happy to call her friend not matter what! Hell even Damian who was usually cold towards Y/n told her that there's more to her then just a pretty face and Grayson is a fool for not seeing it, She was touched by that she really was but it still stung.

"Hey guys, I'm going for a walk." she called out to Arden and Daryl who were cuddling on the couch looked up at her concerned. "Are sure that's a good Idea?" Daryl asked having born and raised in Gotham he knew that was a very bad life choice especially at this time of night, After some debate Y/n sighed "Yeah, I'll up on the roof..." The blond man nodded and tossed her the key to elevator.

"Be Careful." the H/c nodded and made her way up to the roof for some air the h/c shuddered as she stepped out of the elevator she should've brought a jacket. Y/n hugged herself as she wandered around the pool area staring up at the sky when someone came up behind her "Y/n-" the h/c yelped and fell backwards into the pool.

Y/n couldn't swim so naturally she freaked as she started to sink, till pair of hands grabbed her by the arms and pulled her out. The h/c wheezed and coughed out water whilst trying to breathe, all while who ever was up on the roof with her rubbed shoulders and apologized.

 when she could finally get air into her lungs Y/n looked up to see who the mystery person was, and was befuddled to see Nightwing looking down at her concerned. Her brows furrowed over why Bludhaven's resident hero was doing in Gotham, and what could he possibly want with her? 

It didn't take long for Y/n to find herself under a pile of towels and the glow of a patio heater as Nightwing cut to the chase and said he was a friend of Dick Grayson's, the H/c's mood dropped lower then her current body temperature.

 "Oh, I'm not special enough for him to come find me himself?" She hissed trying keep her voice leveled the hero tense as She said this, his lips formed thin line as he thought his words out carefully.

"It's not like th-"

"No, it's exactly like that! he made it abundantly clear! so, whatever lie or excuse he script you into saying? He can go shove it up his a-"

"He thought you were cheating!" Nightwing cut her off causing to Y/n to flinch then look at him confused. "What?" she spat obviously skeptical about this sudden revelation. As the masked man sighed frustrated he wanted nothing more then take her home and talk about this as Dick Grayson, but beggars can't be choosers.

"The date cancellations, the hush phone calls, the guy he saw kissing you while leaving ou- your apartment, after you told him you were at work? What does that look like to you?"

Nightwing chided as Y/n though this over...that look bad to anyone in Dick's shoes. "That man was Arden's boyfriend." she mumbled Nightwing's head whipped around to looked at her surprised *B-boyfriend? Arden is gay?...s-So she's not with him?!" as happy he was to hear that, they still solve this mess they gotten themselves into.

"And that made it okay to flirt S/n and say those things about me?" 

She croaked as Nightwing shook his head "No it didn't...Truth be told he's a real Dick and crappy detective for not putting it together." The raven haired hero chastised himself for missing how obvious it was. 

Y/n canceled a date because her editor says she has go France; S/n has a show in France! hell S/n even had the same freckles/birthmark on {spot} as Y/n and he was too caught up in the 'She's cheating' scenario to even notice.

as for why Dick said what he did? there was no excuse, he was hurt and just wanted to be mean and let Y/n hurt for betraying his trust. He regretted every goddamn word once Kori told him who he was talking to. 

"Look, just go home...Please? He misses you." Y/n started crying causing Nightwing to pull her into tight hug. "And trust me, he is very sorry for everything..." the hero said pulling away from her Y/n nodded and eventually left the roof, not fifteen minutes later Dick Grayson got a text his heart rattled nervously in his chest as he check his phone.

{Are you awake? I want come home.]

 [I'll be waiting..}

[I love you...}

{First ILY, Milestone and it's over text, way to make a girl blush.]

Dick snorted to himself as he put his Nightwing gear away hopefully one day he'll be able to tell her about his Stage name.  

[Warning attempted sexual assault! Skip is it make you uncomfortable!]

Jason Todd:  If someone ever told Jason Todd that his nerdy ex girlfriend turned out to be the hottest model in Gotham with a fan-base reaching international levels, he would laughed in their face and called them delusional.

 Well too bad the universe decided to make that scenario a reality, And delivered it to Jason via sloppy hay-maker to the nose! At first he didn't understand what had happened one second he's flirting with his idol! the next he's on the ground holding his bloody nose and gawking up at his sobbing girlfriend.

That was the last time he saw Y/n, she didn't come home that night or return any of his calls, She was still in Gotham or rather S/n was still Gotham he'd see articles on her shoots or see and interviews on TV... He tried getting Artemis to tell him where she went, but the Amazon gave him a dirty look and slammed her door in his face.

 leaving Jason to wallow in his anger and guilt, There he was Jason Todd: Red-Hood, former Robin trained by Batman to be a detective and he couldn't even figure out that his own girlfriend was the pin-up model!, he's such damn idiot! the signs were right there staring him in the face.

Cancelled plans, the e-mails,hushed phone calls, her being able to afford such a nice apartment despite being on a Librarian's salary,and the damn diets! Jason would always give Y/n crap for those back in high school because as he said.

"You don't need to go on a diet, you're a still growing teenage girl who's barely [y/weight] soaking wet and perfectly healthy." He chided before pushing a plate of Alfred's cookies towards her.

 then tried to coax her into telling him who said she was too fat/skinny, cause he was gonna see just how much they weighed after he shoves his boot up their ass! 

"T-two months ago, when you left me at the mall? there was this talent-" She was so close to telling him about her being S/n, but they were interrupted by Bruce calling Jason for a mission, Y/n let him go...

Jason smiled bitterly at the memory as he got ready for patrol, Currently Red-hood was staking out a shady modeling firm, that might be front a trafficking ring. Girls would go in... But never come out, he looked through the binoculars at the activity when he caught something out of the corner of his eye... 

A woman with a familiar mop of y/hc being dragged inside, Jason blood went cold it couldn't be Y/n, but he had to be sure! he silently infiltrated the building through an old service entrance, what he found in this building made made Jason sick.

Women and girls in cells they were filthy and hooked up to Iv's being pumped with drugs so they couldn't run and they all had prices tattooed to their arms. he checked around for any signs of the girl he was looking for.

 when he saw something small glittering on the floor. Red hood crouched down and felt his heart drop it was a necklace, Y/n's necklace! the one he gave her in high school before he died, she never takes it off.

Jason heard a door open and a man walked in and noticed the necklace on the floor, he crouched down and to look at it when the click of gun's safety going off caused him to tense, the man stared dead ahead as a modulated spoke up. "I'm not even gonna give ya a choice, where do they keep the new girls?" Red-hood snarled keeping his gun on the guy's head who was shaking.

"the basement, with the boss! if he sees one he likes he-" He didn't get a chance to finish as Jason snapped his neck, and made his way down to the basement. and stopped when he heard two men talking. "See that h/c broad they brought in?" the other nodded "Yeah, if she tweaked her hair and ditch the glasses she'd looked like S/n..." 

The first one hummed agreement." probably why the boss wanted her so god damn badly, she's his dream girl after all.." the Jason let out a low growl so, it was Y/n neither men had noticed the vigilante silently approaching as other man snorted "Well, hell he can keep her, did you see what that bitch to Ernie's hand..."

Instead of his buddy he saw red not that he was angry or anything; Red-Hood just headbutted him knocking him to the floor, before stepping on his neck. "where's the boss?" he hissed the dazed man pointed at the office. "thanks." was all the vigilante said before popping a cap in his skull no doubt altering his boss to his presence.

 Meanwhile Y/n mind was starting to slip into unconsciousness, she kept struggling to push this disgusting man off of her. but she was getting weaker, what ever was in that needle he jabbed in her was starting to take effect, she felt tears welling in her eyes as she tried think of something, anything that would take her away from this situation!

the man had gotten her shirt and bra off when a loud bang caused him to pull away, "I'll be right back sweetheart..." He cooed kissing her cheek if Y/n could gag she would, She watched her kidnapper pull out a gun and cautiously walked towards the door. a shadow appeared under the door, the guy didn't even opened it he just fired at the door.

 there was a thud and a noticeable give against the door's metal surface. he smirked and opened it only for the body of one of his thugs to drop in a heap at his feet. The trafficker gasped in shock and started backing towards Y/n, only for the window shatter in a downpour of shards the trafficker grunted as he was sent to the floor.

Y/n's eyes widened as a large man in a black leather jacket and tactical gear came into view, it took her a moment to realize it was the Red-hood. who slowly stood up and started walking towards her kidnapper. who was begging for his life as the vigilante approached him "no,no,no please!...the girl!" He pointed at Y/n frantically.

 "y-you can have her man, just don't-" He was cut off by Red-hood pointing his gun at his head "that's kind of the point pal." the vigilante said before shooting him in the face splattering blood on his suit, as he turned Y/n and immediately made his way over to the semi conscious girl.

Y/n saw Jason take off his jacket before covering her with it. He lifted her off the desk and carried her out of that hellhole, the last thing she saw was Red-hood looking down at her while calmly telling her. 

"You're alright N/n...I got cha...I got cha..." he soothed holding her close before everything went dark.

 When she woke up Y/n was confused as to where she was and how did she get there, then she remembered being kidnapped and what that guy almost did to her...the Red-hood, Jason saved her?

She looked and saw a familiar helmet on the room's nightstand and noticed the familiar figure in Kevlar sitting next to the bed watching her intently "Jay?" she croaked still trying to understand what she was looking at. 

she couldn't tell if he was a hallucination from what that trafficker injected her with, or if her ex really did come and rescue her? the raven haired man sighed in relief. "Hey...Looks like we've got a lot talk about? he said numbly before reaching into his jacket and gave her necklace back. "I would've never found you without it." 

The two just talked and told each other everything, how she ended up being S/n, while he told her why he was acting like an ass to her the last couple months, was because he saw he out with one of her Co-workers a male model and thought she was two timing and planing to leave.

and his plan was two could play at that game...only to be blindsided when the girl he chose; turned out to be the love of his god damn life and he screwed everything up like always! Y/n immediately berated him for blaming himself!

"This was more my fault then yours! I'm the one should've told you about S/n then this would've been avoided." she said as Jason took his gear off and crawled into bed with her and wrapped his arms around. 

"We're both Idiots..." he mumbled tiredly into her shoulder as one of his hands roamed under her shirt, his thumb made circles on her hips. "That that we are.." she hummed holding his free hand. "I love you." she mumbled Jason kissed her neck "I know, go to sleep." they drifted off...   

[Note: Tim and the reader are like college aged in this: 19-22 years old just to make that clear!]

Tim Drake [light smut]: *How, the hell did this happen?!* a red faced Y/n frantically wondered as her naked body was pressed against Tim's who was trying to hide the h/c from the other men in the locker room, How did this happen? Y/n came to the school to ask Tim for the key to her apartment back, but she didn't know college layout...

and got to asking if anyone knew where Tim Drake was? Well some girls who were fans of Tim pretended to take her to him and "Accidentally" spilled their drinks on her; since Y/n didn't go to this school, they easily tricked her saying it was the women's room. they stole her clothes and the e/c eyed girl was trapped!

After sitting in that shower stall scared and freezing her ass off. The model breath hitched when she saw the stall door opening and realized she hadn't locked it. the h/c immediately tried to grab the handle only to come face to face with Tim Drake who looked very stunned to find her there!

 "Y/n? what are you doing in-" Y/n thanked every deity out there that it was Tim who found her and not some creep, She started crying and threw herself at ignoring the fact that he wasn't exactly dressed, the raven awkwardly hugged back as he was still trying to process what was going on?

Tim although stunned was also very upset to find his Y/n naked and scared in the men's locker room; where anyone could've found her like this! his first thought was someone already had. "What happen, did someone bring you here?..did they-" Y/n shook her head "No, I was looking for and some girls said they'ed take me to you then spilled their drinks on me, and tricked me into going in here." she quietly explained unfortunately for them a group of men started pilling in!

Causing Tim to curse under his breath he climbed inside the stall with Y/n and locked the door. The raven haired man held her close to him, in an attempt to try and keep anyone from seeing her...thank god the shower stalls had tall dark tinted privacy doors instead of curtains, and no space for anyone to crawl under or they would both be screwed!

Y/n gulped when the raven haired boy pressed closer to her, she held her breath as the outline of a man appeared and the door jiggled a little. "It's busy dude..." Tim said hoarsely his voice rumbled against Y/n's ear who let out a tiny whimper hoping they'ed leave, whoever was out there huffed annoyance and tried to look into the stall  through the door "Are you even Showering in there?" the man asked clearly suspicious.

Tim had reached over the y/height girl and turned the water on; to a least look like he's busy so the others wouldn't be curious. "Yeah, these old showers take a while to turn on when they're all in use." another voice explained all while Tim and Y/n were trying their hardest not look at each other or touch anything. whoever was at the door huffed and walked away along with whoever told him about the delay in water pressure.

the couple relaxed, Well Y/n was relaxed until...She felt something poking her inner thigh. 

Tim's jaw set and awkwardly looked down at Y/n who noticed and averted her gaze to the wall, the raven haired boy swallowed hard feeling her boobs pressed against his chest, it had been almost a month since they were this close to each other...Clothed and otherwise. So, can imagine how quickly Tim lost his battle with the beast... 

then Y/n did the mistake of looking up at him again, with that look in her eyes, because next they knew they were making out against the tiled wall any gasps or whimpers Y/n made were drowned out by the men loudly talking or the locker doors slamming. 

The h/c bit her lip trying not to moan as Tim's length slowly entered her needy core. "Don't make a sound..."Tim growled lowly in her ear she whimpered into his shoulder as he began to thrust into her roughly, needless that was possibly the hottest sex they've had in a while!

15 minutes later after all the guys had left...

the two girls who had tricked Y/n were still waiting outside very confused over why they did't hear any hooting and cheering or see a naked girl run out of the locker room, the blond was annoyed glaring at he phone, while the brunette who was holding a bag with Y/n's ruined clothes inside sat nervously next to her. "Um, Shelly y-you don't think the guys did something, do you?" she asked scared that they may have helped someone get assaulted or murdered.

"Shut up Britney." the blonde hissed causing her friend glare at her "I'm not gonna shut-up, and I ain't going to jail for-" They were cut off by Tim Drake walking out of the locker room holding hands with a flustered Y/n who was in his spare gym clothes. He noticed the two girls gawking and held his free hand out whilst giving them a stern look the brunette sheepishly handed him the bag, the couple walked off seemly lost in their own world. 

earlier

in the locker room after making sure everyone was gone, Tim helped Y/n dry her hair off get dressed, the two got to talking about everything that happened like how and why Y/n kept her modeling career a secret from him. 

She said she kept all of her S/n stuff at the studio clothes, make-up etc. and reason she hid was because she didn't want to be S/n all the time, nor did she want her fans harassing her and knowing where she lived and try to get with her. "It's happened, they were waiting in my living room."

Tim tense up a bit luckily this was before they dated, but that still didn't make it alright "has anyone tried following you since we-?" He asked handing her his red windbreaker to wear Y/n shook her head, and explained that they usually tried anything security would toss them out.

They usually ignore her because they're looking S/n not some plain coffee gopher. that and if they ever give up on S/n and went after Y/n, those self-defense lessons Tim gave her, told any unwanted guests that maybe they should back right off! After that said and done Tim wrapped his arms around her and kissed the top of her head.

"I'm sorry I was a jerk." 

"I'm sorry for keeping secrets from you."

Tim went quiet for moment before making a very big decision "...Yeah, Do you want spend the night at my place? I need to show you something." Y/n looked up at him curiously. "What is it?" As the two got up from the locker room bench, Tim snorted and grabbed her hand and started walking to the exit.

"It's kind of personal, Just... Don't freak out." the h/c's face turned red she wanted say *we just had sex in a crowded locker room without getting caught! nothing could surprise me at the moment!* But, all that came was a meek "Alright." as Tim led them out the locker room, Hopefully she takes him being Red Robin, better then he took to her being S/n... 

Adult! Damian Wayne: 4 week...4 weeks since he'd last saw Y/n and Damian was goddamn wreck! He was subtle at first almost like he didn't care, he thought Y/n would come back after 2 or 3 days...but when she didn't? the usually cool and collected Wayne was unnerved, clumsy and irrational. 

Often finding himself lashing out at his brothers or being too violent on patrol. He finally opened up to Dick after figuring out his oldest brother knew about her double life and demanded to know why she would tell him, but not her boyfriend! 

However, Dick had very choice words for his brother he was still livid that Damian lied to him. "She was going to, but after the stunt you pulled? Hell, I'm surprised I'm even talking to you." The younger man looked at his brother stunned as Dick continue to scold him.

"You used brag that you weren't like Bruce! You'd never play with a woman's heart, that you were waiting for the right girl to come along, and you had her!" the raven haired man ran his hand through his hair trying hard not to deck Damian in the face.

Don't get him wrong, Dick loves his little brother, but right now, he was too disappointed and angry! "And instead of having a night to show her off? you chose to lie and be shallow about her looks and took some money grubbing bimbo to parade around as your girlfriend!" Damian went to say something, But Dick wasn't finished, he had to go there...

"What if You and Y/n had gotten married? What then, were you going to pay some actress to be her while the real one sat alone in a room? while everyone's congratulating you and whats-her;" The younger man slammed his fist on the metal table denting it "I Fucked up! I get it alright?!" he snarled causing Dick to cock a brow.

He knew full well that Damian was planning to propose."Now, would you please help me find Y/n and fix this?" the green eyed man asked desperately as Dick not entirely sure if he was making this better or worse...

 "She's in L.A., probably staying with Robbie Reyes, the guy you saw leaving with her." The acrobat paused for a moment reading Damian's face the mix of jealousy and confusion was evident; making it clear Y/n never mentioned Robbie before.

"Be careful around him, He's the kind to hold grudge when someones wronged his family." Dick met Robbie once by accident the same night he found out about Y/n's double life. 

Although he seemed like a nice guy, there was something off about the Latino boy, in some ways he reminded Dick of Jason...but that's putting it mildly! whatever Dick had seen in that boy's eyes made Jason look like small potatoes in comparison.... 

Meanwhile...

"You really didn't have to do this N/n.." Robbie said as he helped carry the groceries Y/n had bought, the h/c just waved her foster brother off. "After all your family done for me it's the least I can do!" She greeted Gabe who looked up from his homework a for brief moment.

"There was call while you were gone!" the teen rolling his wheel chair to the two and taking one of the bags from from and immediately dug in a found a bag of Reese's mini pieces. "Oh, for me or your brother?"

Y/n asked grabbing a package of ramen, The teen had teared the bag open and chowed down on the candy. "For you some dude, named Damian?" The rooms temperature seem to drop a few degrees there was a loud pop caused by Y/n squeezing the ramen packet, as Robbie felt his stomach flop thinking all the hard work he's put into bringing Y/n back on her feet was about to be blown to pieces.

"And what did, he say?"

"That he's sorry for the gala?"

"tsk* anything else?"

"He's staying at his family vacation house, and isn't leaving until you go see him."

Y/n let out a bitter laugh "Well he's gonna be waiting a long time!" She spat as Gabe tilted his head befuddled before Robbie could divert the subject or tell his brother to finish his homework the younger Reyes spoke up. "He lied and did a bad thing but so did Y/n, isn't it only fair that she gives him another chance? or at least hear him out?" the boy asked innocently.

Robbie awkwardly looked between his siblings before grabbing the handles of Gabe's wheelchair and pushed him out of the room, "10 minute break! go play Skyrim or read comics!." The older Reyes brother said frantically as his brother protested, then there were two.

"Y'know Gabe is right, You need closure and to achieve that you need to talk to him." Robbie said as Y/n tossed the ramen packet away. But before she could say anything Gabe' voice came from the living room.

"Awesome! it's Batman!" the h/c tensed up and went out to see what the teen was watching and saw the news, it showed Batman fighting Bane! what was Bane doing in LA?! Y/n flinched as she watched Damian get thrown around she turned towards Robbie, who was watching the screen he slowly looked at her and it was like having mental conversation, before it clicked the Latino silently mouthed out *Your Ex is Batman?!* she winced and nodded and with that Robbie grabbed her hand and to two slipped away.

With Damian.

Damian was getting the tar kicked out of him, each of his brothers offered to come with him, but no! he had to regain his beloved on his own accord. He really was a prideful bastard and he was paying for it! big time! Damian was exhausted black dots were starting to paint his vision.

 He briefly wondered if this is how his father felt moments before Bane broke his back? The news helicopter would've made an efficient getaway, but it fled the second Bane started throwing pieces of train parts at it. The new Batman tried reaching for smoke bomb try to escape while he could still stand.

however Bane got a hold of his arm and lifted him off the ground. "I broke you once, I'll break you a again!" the drug lord roared and got ready to pull Damian's arm off only for the loud thunderous roar of an engine broke through the silence. And in an instance Damian was airborne as something black and on fire crashed into Bane sending the venom charged hulk flying into some cargo containers. 

Damian lifted himself off the ground to see what saved him it was some kind demon car? a 69 charger...that the car Todd's been sobbing over and the car he saw Y/n speed off in...

He wasn't prepared for what happened next he saw Y/n step out of the flaming vehicle dressed in all black and wearing a domino mask she borrowed for Halloween, but never got around to returning.

She ran up to Damian and pulled him off the ground as Robbie got out of the car they heard Bane roar with rage in the distance. "Stay in car...I'll take care of the big guy."  the mechanic hissed as his eyes began to glow, Damian watch in awe as the man's body ignited in flames burning away his flesh and down to his skeleton.

"Aim for the hoses connected to the dispenser on his back, it's how he's injects himself with venom." Y/n explained the skeletal creature nodded at the y/height girl as she helped Damian into the car the vigilante looked between Y/n and whatever the thing was.

 "Wh-what the hell is that?" Damian croaked in pain and concealed fear as Y/n helped him into the backseat. "That's my brother Robbie, He's the spirit of vengeance the ghost rider." The masked girl explained as the two watched Robbie kick Bane's ass, Using his chains to burn through the hoses on the drug lords back.

When the rider was done with the power-house of a villain, the rider tore Bane's mask off. "Look into my eyes...Your soul is tainted with blood of the innocent...feel their pain!" the rider hissed as Bane was subjugated to the horrors he had inflicted on all his victims over the years. causing the drained crime-lord to scream in agony as the ghosts of the many tormented him causing Bane to flee in fear, straight into a metal beam. Knocking himself out.

The rider then turned back to the hell charger and got in the car."Where too?" Robbie inquired as he slowly turned back into his human form. "Normally the hospital, But in this case...how good is Gabe at keeping secrets?" Damian quizzically while the mechanic nodded.

"Pretty good, Just don't make-out or bleed out on my couch!" Y/n snorted at her brother "Trust me making out with guy who ashamed of me is the last thing on my mind?" She huffed looking out the window, as Damian sat himself up in the back seat. "I'm not ashamed of you." he hissed in pain holding his dislocated shoulder Y/n sucked her teeth at him.

"Right, you just went with some whore, because I'm so fucking gorgeous I turn people to stone when they look at me?" Robbie whistled awkwardly and put his headphones in to listen to music as the couple talked, Damian swallowed hard as he looked at Robbie then at Y/n trying to figure out what to say, he tapped into his inner Grayson.

 "Okay, I'll admit I wasn't thinking about you or your feelings, I was thinking about myself and my reputation when I asked that girl to gala and not you, And it was selfish and scummy of me." He winced feeling his bruised ribs constrict, coughed shallowly. "But your no better than I am..." Y/n slowly turned to look at him in disbelief. "Excuse me? I'm not the one who cheated!" She hissed venom dripping on every word.

"1. I didn't cheat, I just paid I a girl to hang off my arm and look pretty."

"You lying-"

"2!..We've been together for five years and never once have you talked to me about meeting your family, You've met mine hell, you lived with us after Grayson accidentally burnt your house down. And as that alter-ego of yours? I told you about my secret because I trust you, I thought same the same of you! but clearly I was wrong." 

Damian chided as Y/n felt rotten realizing that he right, She knows almost everything about Damian's life vigilante and civilian. But never once has she talked about her family as for telling her secret? truth be told.

Y/n honestly thought Damian was playing with her using her as a cover even after five years; she kept expecting him to just drop her out of the blue and never talk to her again. And that stunt he pulled at the Gala pretty confirmed her apparent false assumptions...

"Oh, for the love of-" Robbie suddenly cut in "look! You're both stupid for each other, so either make-up or shut-up! c'os I'm getting real sick of this Donna/Eric bull-shit!" The Latino snapped causing the couple to flinch as he eye were ablaze, Robbie took a deep breath pulled over and got out of the car to take a break.

Both Damian Y/n sheepishly stared at each other. "I was looking for you," He let out a bitter chuckled "Grayson finally told me where you were, after telling me how much I screwed up." the man removed his cowl and his appearance caused the rot to spread as Damian was pale his green eye were sunken and dull it was clear he hadn't been taking care of himself since the break up.

to be fair Y/n wasn't either... She hardly slept and when she did, she could hear Damian bad mouthing her and that girl laughing at her! if she was alone with no one was watching, she would go hide in the bathroom or garage and cry while staring at Damian's number on her phone conflicted she wanted to call but... 

She didn't know if she wanted to scream at him or just cry more. Robbie eventually figured it out and started bugging her to call Damian and talk; if he's not sorry then move on...If he is give him chance.

"Are you really sorry?" She croaked as Damian grabbed her hand squeezed it. "Yes, I am." He said firmly as the h/c eyed him still unsure. "what about that girl?" She mumbled suspiciously as the raven haired winced from shifting his weight causing his ribs to protest.

 "Like I said she’s someone I paid, she meant absolutely nothing to me." He rested his head against her shoulder, like he used to when he came back from a long mission, the h/c bit her lip as she thought this over then swallowed her pride.

"One chance..." Damian looked at her hope visible in his eyes. "One more chance Dam, If you pull any sort of crap like this-" She cut off by Damian kissing her passionately before pulling away. "I won't..." He promised as Y/n smiled at him shyly, as Robbie got back in the car. "Did you resolve your problems?" the couple nodded Damian keeping his hand on Y/n's. 

"Good, now we're going home and you're going introduce me and Gabe to the guy whose banging our sister." the mechanic said seriously while giving Damian a cold look "Can it wait till' Damian's ribs aren't breaking everytime he breathes?"  

Y/n pleaded obviously trying to at least let Damian heal before her brothers try to intimidate him. "No." Robbie huffed as the couple slouched against the seat "Sorry, Damian." He kissed her hand smiled painfully at her."Don't worry beloved, I'll soldier through it just for you.." Y/n smiled gently at her boyfriend as her mind tried to work through how Gabe was gonna react to his sister dating batman, hopefully he takes it better then Robbie is a the moment... 

#batboys #xreader #Marvel x DC crossover #Richard Grayson #robbie reyes #Jason Todd #Tim drake #Damian Wayne #batman! Damian Wayne #Nightwing #Red hood #red robin #ghost rider #batbros #this took way too long #my writing #these are long! #light smut

[the-evisceration-station]

Pairing: Jade/Castiel

Warnings: mentioned character death, swearing

AO3 Link:

         Jade is watering the aloe when an unusually notable customer shuffles into the apothecary, Castiel of Crowstorm. Something of a low-key celebrity to break up the routine of the day. In truth, Jade maybe, sort of knew him by association when he was kid, but that’s probably not something Castiel remembers at all. He supposes it doesn’t matter much anyway. A customer is a customer after all, celebrity status or not.

“Afternoon,” he chirps in greeting. “Can I help you?”

“Hopefully,” Castiel huffs, wincing as he gives a little head shake. “I don’t really believe in this junk, but a friend of friend who’s into all this witchy stuff swears by it and I’m desperate.”

Jade lifts a brow, feels the corner of his mouth quirk up. “Witchy stuff?”

Castiel waves his hand. “You know, plant potions, kale cleanse mumbo jumbo.”

Jade chuckles, propping his elbows on the counter. “So if you don’t believe in it, why are you here?”

“Like I said, I’m desperate. I’ve got a concert in an hour and my throat is killing me. Came on crazy fast and I don’t have a whole lot of options.”

And now that he’s said that, Jade realizes that he does sound kind of rough. Sandpapery syllables, words sort of whittling out at the end.

“This close to curtain, I’d think most artists just lip synch or cancel.”

A stubborn spark lights up his eyes.

“Are you kidding?” he scoffs. “Posers who do that aren’t real artists.”

Jade finds himself smiling. “Okay, okay, so mad respect…but I’m not the herbalist. Unless you know what it is you want, I don’t really know what to give you.”

“Seriously?” he groans, frustration seemingly more directed at the situation than Jade, exactly. “But you work here, right? You gotta know something, man.”

“Well…ah, alright. I might know a couple things. Mind if I take a look?”

Castiel glances around and gives a shrug, stepping back. “Sure.”

So Jade sidles around the counter and presses his hands under Castiel’s jaw, carefully probing the way Eweleïn showed him to. It’s the first time he’s ever done this too a customer though, let alone one who’s this hot. And god, is Castiel hot.

He was good looking in high school but early adulthood has sharpened the edges of his features. He’s filled out some more, stands taller, and his style has grown up with him. He really owns the rockstar look now, doesn’t look as try-hard as he did at sixteen when Jade would glance up from pruning the plants to see him gagging in the courtyard on cigarettes he didn’t really know how to smoke.

He smells nice too, Jade notices, standing this close. Sort of spicy-sweet, like cinnamon gum. For a moment Jade thinks it’s his attraction to Castiel that’s making it feel like his skin is scorching under his touch. Then his brain yanks his heart out of its stupid, gay starstruck stupor and back to reality.

“Oh, man, you’ve got a fever…”

“Fun.”

“And your lymph nodes are swollen, uh, open up for a sec.”

Castiel complies and Jade’s concern spikes to alarm. His tonsils are huge, bloated like overinflated beach balls about to burst. Glaring firetruck red and streaked with sickly patches of white.

“Ooh, wow. Uh, okay, so I do believe in this stuff you call junk. The plant potions and kale cleanse mumble jumbo?” Jade drops his hands, grimacing. “Yeah, I believe in all that and I’m still telling you to see a doctor. It’s bad, you need antibiotics.”

Castiel pauses, humming an unhappy sound as he reaches back to adjust his hair tie. Jade watches, tracing the tattoos on his arms and hoping he doesn’t look as enticed as he feels.

“Again, little short on time here,” he says eventually. “Think you can hook me up with something just to get me through the concert and I’ll do all that tomorrow?”

“…how are you standing up right now?” Jade asks, because he vividly remembers the misery that was his own bout of strep last year, not just the pain like scorpions nesting in the tender meat of his throat, but the pounding headaches and the body aches that made his legs feel heavy as concrete blocks.

Castiel barks out a laugh he flinches from and flashes Jade a wolfish grin.

“Espresso and energy drink cocktail.”

Jade gapes.

“On the rocks,” he adds with a wink.

And all Jade can think is that it’s infinitely unfair for this guy to be this sexy while sick.

“I can get you some teas that should help,” he says, stepping back and slinking along the shelves. “They’re not going to be a cure-all, though.”

“Do they taste gross?” Castiel raises a brow.

Jade finds the tins of herbal blends he was looking for, breathing a laugh as he strolls back behind the counter.

“Beggars can’t be choosers.”

“Fair enough.” Castiel crosses his arms. “So is it just the fever playing tricks on me, or have we met before?”

Jade stops, lagging like an overloaded phone. This isn’t real. Castiel can’t possibly remember him. No way would this guy, sexy-when-he’s-sick, singer-in-a-band, popular punk guy remember him. But he’s looking expectant like he does, and Jade swallows as his heart flutters and his lips stretch wide.

“Uh, yeah. I went to a different school, but I was in the gardening club at yours.”

“Ah, that’s right. My friend had a crush on you.”

“I remember you too,” Jade continues. “From then, I mean. Not from Crowstorm. You were in a different band then, and the other guy was the singer. Lysander, right? We didn’t talk much, but he’d hang out in the garden sometimes, writing your songs.”

Castiel’s expression changes, sorrow swallowing the devil may care demeanor and jaw tightening. Damn it. Jade just stepped on a landmine.

“Uh-oh. Bad band breakup?” he asks nervously, absently thinking that the question could be a tongue twister in one of those activity books for kids. Bad band breakup. Say that five times fast.

Castiel shakes his head. “He died. Hit-and-run a few months before graduation.”

“Shit,” Jade gasps, soaking in the shock of the news.

It’s not like he knew Lysander well or anything. Just a casual conversation here and there, they were barely acquaintances. But it’s still jarring to realize that somebody he talked to died. Died young and violently, at that.

“I’m sorry,” he says next, low and sincere.

“He’s still with me,” Castiel murmurs, looking at the floor as his fingers stroke the feathers inked into his forearm. “On my skin and when I sing. Sure as hell would rather have him next to me, though.”

Jade nods solemnly, ringing up the tea and bagging the tea. Empty words don’t ease grief, and so he offers none. Castiel seems to appreciate the moment of quiet before he fishes in his pocket and digs out his wallet.

He pulls out a plastic card and Jade shakes his head.

“Sorry, cash only.”

“Really?” Castiel sucks his lip between his teeth. “Shit. I don’t have any on me.”

“You know what? It’s on the house.” Jade types in the payment and makes a mental note to get his own wallet before he clocks out.

“I appreciate it. So here’s this, for you and your girlfriend.” Castiel grins and thumbs something else out of his wallet, slapping it down on the counter. Two tickets to tonight’s concert.

“Thanks! I, uh, don’t have a girlfriend though.”

“No?” Castiel arches a brow, smirks almost teasingly.

“Nah.” Jade licks his lips and takes a chance. “Honestly, girlfriends aren’t really my style.”

Castiel bobs his head and swipes the other ticket off the counter. He puts it away and replaces it with something else, a shorter but thicker laminated printout. It’s a backstage pass.

“In that case, you can have this instead.”

Jade tries to be suave even though he can feel his face bloom with the heat of a blush, his heartbeat quickening and his palms getting sweaty. He tries to say something, anything, something cool, or flirty, or even just a thank you. But his tongue suddenly won’t work.

Castiel pops his lips as he takes his tea and turns around, headed to the door.

“F-Feel better,” Jade finally manages, grinning like a fool.

Castiel tosses a wink over his shoulder and ducks out.

#mcl rarepair week #my candy love #mclu #mcl jade #mcl castiel

[sassyhazelowl]

Title: Life is What You Bake It Rating: PG - a few swear words, comedic violence Pairing: Lyon x Erza Secondary Pairings: Lucy x Levy A/N: Silly, cute little idea that popped into my head while cruising titles on Netflix. Bakery AU.

Link to Google Docs - Comments welcome and appreciated :)

Chapter 3

Erza hadn’t been sure what to make of the gift Gray had dragged through her door. And dragged appeared to be the right word for it.

The two had been friends since junior high, and Gray always had an odd sense of humor. If she didn’t know better, she’d suspect some sort of trick. The man that sat in the doorway with his arms crossed hardly looked like he knew one end of a spatula from the other, and his clothing was way, way too expensive. Not that Erza didn’t approve; she loved clothing and knew all the brands. She had a whole closet dedicated to her love of clothing. And she could appreciate a well-dressed man. But it didn’t show a lot of common sense to come into the kitchen dressed like you were planning to eat in the dining room of the Ritz. 

Glancing around at the kitchen, she realized beggars couldn’t be choosers. It wasn’t like she was a baker by trade. Before inheriting the bakery, she worked part-time here and there at any outdoor job that would take her, as a jack-of-all-trades. Sometimes she’d work two or three jobs at once, just for the challenge. She loved learning new things and being outside in nature and most of the jobs around here were seasonal anyway.

There’d been nothing for it but to roll up her sleeves and learn on the job when the bakery fell in her lap, bequeathed by it’s very elderly owner Mr. Makarov, who retired and moved to Florida. She’d been a cashier and a waitress and a ski instructor and a camp counselor and park ranger and so many other things. How hard could it be to run a bakery?

Quite hard, it turned out.

There were so many things she needed to learn that had nothing to do with baking, and the baking part itself was something she struggled with. Eating her way through every treat she could get her hands on did not prepare her for how much work went into making those delicious morsels.

But quitting wasn’t in Erza’s nature, and she was certain with some hard work she could turn things around.

“Well, I suppose I will see you tomorrow?” she said, still skeptical of the man who spoke charmingly enough. Turning, she saw he’d acquired a cloth from somewhere, stripped off his jacket (and shirt!) and was making short work of all the splatter within arm’s reach. Surprised, she covered her awkward giggle with a cough and asked conversationally, “Do you have a place to stay?”

“The Heartfilia residence,” he answered, moving on to the nearest table, barely sparing her a glance. “Another of Gray’s friends. My brother seems to be quite the popular man.”

“It is a small town. Everyone knows everyone,” Erza bristled, sure he was making fun of her home.

He straightened up seriously, rag in hand absently, “I am sure I will too by the end of the summer. Miss Scarlett, you seem to have an impression of me I am not sure I deserve.”

Curse her wretched fair skin and freckles. Instead of answering in words, she spun to hide her burning face and to stop oogling his muscular chest. Of all the horrible habits to share with his brother, going topless did not have to be one of them! 

“Anyway,” she heard the rag flop down on the table, “I will come back tomorrow morning early. Be sure to either leave the door unlocked or be here to meet me.”

Well, dang it. She’d made him mad. How early was early to him anyway? 8 or 9? Would he even bother to show up tomorrow? It wasn’t any real loss if he didn’t. He probably was a fair baker but poor, struggling Fairy Tail Bakery needed more than mediocre tarts and muffins to survive. It had been flagging under Makarov’s expert hand, and under Erza’s inexperienced one it was drowning.

Without Fairy Heart she wasn’t sure it could go on that much longer.

Maybe that was for the better. 

She could say she gave it an honest try and go back to drifting between jobs. Of course, it’d be a shame. Fairy Tail had been in this town for generations, and there weren’t any good bakeries in the surrounding cluster of small towns either. A chain would probably move in or perhaps someone with more luck than Erza would give it a try. Ignoring the sinking, heavy feeling in her chest, she wondered what Magnolia would be like without it’s bakery. Once this had been a bustling, social hub where people came to gather during the day, the sun to the moon that was Mira’s bar.

“Girl, who was that hot, shirtless guy that just stalked out of here? And what did you do to drive away such a stud?”

Lucy Heartfilia, a charming and plucky blonde, grinned as Erza jumped out of her skin and her sad thoughts. Letting herself behind the counter, she leaned back against the display, looking through the open door to the kitchen.

“That,” Erza remarked stiffly, ignoring the hot and shirtless comment, “Is your new tenant for the summer.”

“That’s Gray’s brother?” Lucy whistled, impressed. “And here I thought it was a fluke Gray was so ripped after all those donuts and Mountain Dews. Guess those boys got some good genes.”

Erza frowned, trying not to think about it. Sure, she saw Gray half-naked all the time, but she thought of him like a dumb little brother. This was definitely different, and it felt very inappropriate. Especially since she had… someone else.

Sorry, Jellal, she said in her head.

Would he even care? Would he be jealous or disappointed she was looking at another guy? Erza wasn’t sure. It hadn’t come up before, and of course, he trusted her, but did she trust herself?

“Why were you looking?” Erza clicked her tongue, really questioning herself and not Lucy. “What would your girlfriend say?”

“She’d say go for it, babe; we need some more eye-candy around here. Not that she’d pay attention herself. Not unless said eye-candy had a well-stitched binding and some sweet, fresh off the press paper smell to it.” Lucy shrugged a my-girlfriend-is-a-bibliophile shrug and waved a book at Erza. “I was just bring over the latest and greatest erotica from our favorite author.”

“You?”

Lucy choked for a moment then laughed, “Our other favorite author. What makes you think I write erotica? I’ll just set this… okay, definitely not anywhere in here. Did you put the mixer on high again?”

“No.” 

Yes. Again. Because she hadn’t learned her lesson the last half dozen times. Why did it even have that setting, if all it did was cause chaos?

Lucy rolled up her sleeves, eyes twinkling with good humor, and snatched up the rag left by Gray’s brother. 

“First things first. You’re done destroying the kitchen for the day. We’re going to clean this mess up then you’re going to take the afternoon off to read this amazing novel and relax. I know you’re worried, but it’ll work out. Levy had a horrible time when she first opened her bookstore because she didn’t know how to order or stock or balance a budget, but now it’s thriving and hiring some employees to help out made a huge difference. Can you imagine Magnolia without it? Little mom’n’pops are Magnolia’s life blood and charm. The tourists don’t come here for Starbucks or Barnes and Noble after all.”

“No. No they do not,” Erza murmured to herself, thinking it a bit eerie Lucy had the same thoughts she had. 

The author was a transplant to the town, visiting on vacation and never leaving. It wasn’t entirely an unheard of thing, but Erza sometimes wondered if it was Magnolia or Levy her friend was in love with more. If anyone in town could be the authority on the charm the town held to outsiders, Lucy would be it.

Erza simply had to trust things would turn out alright. What else could go wrong after all?

#fairy tail #fanfic #mine #lyoza #/// #ch3 #bake it

[mateasers]

DISPATCH: 911… What’s your emergency?

RED JOHNSON: She’s gone.

DISPATCH: Who’s gone, sir? What’s your location?

RED JOHNSON: It’s been two days, and she’s still not home. Oh, god. Something’s wrong.

TRIGGER WARNING: DEATH, NON-GRAPGIC CANNIBALISM.

Fifty-two years of marriage, most people nowadays couldn’t even imagine spending that much of their life with one, single partner, but Josie, and Red Johnson were not most people. They were, in every practical way, the perfect pair—a shining example of monogamy, and matrimony for all of Wade to behold, and behold they did. Their love was sort of legendary. Sure, they’d argue like cats, and dogs every once in a while (every day, almost like clockwork) but they settled things just as quickly as they started them, and every fight ended with a kiss goodnight. They were each other’s soul mate, as Josie so often put it in casual conversation with whoever’s ear she was talking off; they were each other’s end, as well as each other’s beginning, and they were more than content to live their lives out that way until the good lord came, and took them on some Notebook type shit. Their love was as comfortable as it was strong. They raised two girls together in a small cape-style house underneath a willow on the east side of town, all while managing to keep Red’s Diner afloat, and in business. Josie handled the money, and Red let her make most of the decisions, as long as he got to pick what they watched on television that night. 

In all their years together, from their college days, and beyond, they’d only spent three nights apart. Josie insisted this was the key to a happy marriage; whenever her friends would complain of their husbands infidelities, she’d never had the same qualms; Red was always home, in bed with her by nine-thirty. It was a sort of deal of theirs; no matter what happened that day, they’d be home, in bed by nine-thirty. No matter what awful, unspeakable words they’d said to each other (because let’s face it, marriage can be ugly), they’d be home, in bed by nine-thirty. This gave them both peace of mind that the other would never stray—hell, when would they have time? Between working together, parenting together, eating dinner together, and sleeping together, they barely spent twenty minutes of the day apart. “The recipe for a good marriage,” Red put it, “… is just putting in some goddamn time together.” They took that rule to the extreme. But it was natural for them, like spending all your time with your best friend. It earned them the adoration of practically the whole town. It was like they were everyone’s grandparents; Josie was your sweet, doting granny, and Red was your grumpy, take-no-shit grandfather. No one expected this type of end to their story.

Red Johnson left the porch light on for his wife, Josie, on the night of June 15th, 2019. She’d been gone for three hours, and it was nearing dark; it wasn’t like Josie to stay out past dark without him. He was sure if she was going to stay out late, she’d at least give him a call (they bought those stupid cell phones, after all), she knew how he worried himself sick over things like this– she knew everything about him. In the light of the setting sun, Red had no reason to suspect anything was out of the ordinary; in fact, he was sure his wife would come strolling the way she usually did, grocery bags up & down her arms. She’d explain to him, practically chirping with excitement, that she’d caught up with one of her old girlfriends, and they’d gotten carried away chatting, losing track of the time completely. She’d say something like, “… you shouldn’t get so balled up; you know it’s bad for your blood pressure.”

The hours without her went by slowly, every individual minute feeling itself like an eternity. If he was worried before, Red Johnson was panicked now.

After midnight, he reluctantly shut off the kitchen light, and poured the coffee he’d been nursing down the sink drain, leaving the mug to be washed in the morning. Still no word from Josie, not even a quick text message (she’d started to like using those—made her feel hip, or something), and by this time he knew something was wrong, knew in his gut. Knowing the police wouldn’t do anything if he called that night, Red managed to convince himself that she was probably spending the night at their daughter’s house, and forgot to call him to let him know. The grandkids were probably keeping her busy with board games, and coloring books… She’d be home bright, and the next morning with the same sweet smile on her face, and she’d make him feel like a fool for even worrying about her. Maybe she’d even bring the rugrats by the diner to see him. 

By the time he laid his head down to sleep, Red could barely keep his eyes open—it was way past their nine-thirty bedtime, and he couldn’t help but fall asleep despite his strong urge to stay awake, and wait for the love of his life to return home.

He rose quietly about six hours after he’d gone to sleep (a far cry from the eight he was used to getting nowadays, semi-retirement had been very kind to him), and for a moment before he opened his eyes all was right with the world. It felt like a normal morning, like nothing was out of the ordinary. Only after he lifted his eyelids did cold reality hit him; his wife, Josie’s side of the bed was still untouched, and he was alone for the first time in what had to have been thirty years. From upstairs he could hear the dog scratching at the front door to get out. Josie would always let her out in the morning– she was the early riser, while Red was content to sleep the wee hours of the morning away. The dog was practically leaving claw marks on the door, desperate to escape the confines of the home, and wander around the yard for a while. Red had halfheartedly hoped Josie would be settled in with her coffee at the kitchen table like he usually found her, but his hopes were dashed. She was gone. 

Shaking fingers (more than usual, he’s old, guys) dialed every number that came to mind into the cordless phone that hung on the kitchen wall for around two hours that morning. Before each call, Red said a silent prayer that somehow, someway, Josie would be there, safe with whoever was on the other end of the line. She’d apologize for forgetting to call him; she’d give him her love, and promise to be home by lunchtime. No such luck. With every failed attempt to reach her, his heart began beating, faster, and faster... Now the sheer, unadulterated fear was starting to kick in. He wasn’t worried anymore; he was petrified. Where could she possibly be?

After another useless call, Red did the only thing he felt he could do, and put in a call to the Wade Police Department. Unsure of what exactly they should do (things like this don’t happen in wade, Wade’s like… super boring), the officer he spoke to suggested the old man come down, and talk to them in person. Red didn’t hesitate; he jumped right in his beat up, old pickup, and made his way into the center of town… He prayed the whole way there that this was some kind of bad dream, and he wasn’t even the praying kind. This was the first time he’d gone fifteen miles per hour over the speed limit in years, hands held tight on the steering wheel, eyes nearing welling up with tears. He sat in a small questioning room with two officers four hours going over the day before. They immediately sent bodies out to look for Josie, to check the places she frequented, even over to Red’s daughter’s house to check if she’d been hiding her mother there for the night. The “Silver” Alert went out exactly twenty-four hours from the time that Josie went missing. Elderly woman, grey hair, brown eyes, last seen driving a silver Honda– If seen safe to approach, but may be startled. Report any information you may have, or sightings to the Wade Police Department. Local news outlets jumped on the story immediately (nothing sells like tragedy), as the town scrambled to come up with some type of reward to offer for her safe return.

In truth, no one was even sure what happened to Josie, whether she’d skipped town because she was sick of Red smothering her, or because some thugs from the next town over had kidnapped her for the car, or the cash in her purse. Poor Red Johnson stood calmly with the sheriff, hands clasped together in a beggar’s stance, as they pleaded to whoever was listening for her safe return home. Red could barely bring himself to speak.

After exactly a week of searching, day in, and day out, Josie returned to the little white house on the corner of Crescent Drive. Red had been ready to burn the entire town down looking for her, meanwhile the police were getting less, and less hopeful for a safe return; they were even considering calling in backup. Red found her outside on the porch, sitting blank faced on the porch swing, covered head to toe in dirt. The town considered it some kind of miracle. After all, people don’t usually come waltzing home when they’ve been missing for that long; most people had truthfully considered her a goner, only a select few, including Red were holding out any true hope for her return. Yet there she was, seemingly unharmed, not a single hair out of place… Just one problem– she wouldn’t speak. Not a single word, not even to Red, who pleaded with her the entirety of first day to just tell him where she’d been. And then just to let him hear for her voice. He promised her he wouldn’t yell, or get upset, he just NEEDED to know where she’d been for all that time… even if he wasn’t going to like the answer, he had to know. She sat with her mouth firmly shut, eyes staring off somewhere into the distance. Dead silent, almost as if she wasn’t breathing, Josie was dead silent. She’d never been dead silent a day in her life before. But Red wasn’t in the position to push her, and the authorities explained to him that if she’d gone through something traumatic in the past week, this was a normal reaction. Red scheduled therapy appointments for her, doctors appointments for her, he even bathed her himself. She just sat, and she shook. Shook like a leaf. She just needed some more time, sure. He tucked her carefully into bed, and took the couch that first night. He did not sleep a wink.

“It’s gotta be dementia setting in… like Alzheimer’s…”

Everyone in Wade had something to say about the disappearance of Josie Johnson. Despite the fact that Red had only shared intimate details of Josie’s condition with his closest friends, and relatives, rumors about her caught on like wildfire. While people talked about “crazy, old Josie” until they were blue in the face, Red made every attempt to reconnect with his wife to no avail. It was almost like she was still gone from him. She was barely unresponsive, lying in their bedroom all day, curtains drawn, eyes wide open. It was like he was living with a complete stranger in the house, a stranger wearing the face of the woman he loved. It took him nearly four days to get her to speak a single word to him, and when she finally did, it was nothing but mumbles, as if she wasn’t quite sure how to use her tongue to speak any longer.

She agreed to go to the doctor with him the next day, so they could get her checked up, and make sure that she had no major injuries– even if she appeared to be fine, Red wasn’t taking any chances with her health; they were supposed to be together forever, after all. The doctor spoke softly to Josie, carefully, as she rocked slightly back, and forth on the examination table, eyes still wide. “I’m just going to check your breathing, okay, Mrs. Johnson?” The gentle words were met with no argument from the elderly woman, until he placed the cold stethoscope against the bare skin on her chest, and was met with a blood-curdling scream. The whole street must have heard that yelp, it was almost inhuman in volume, in pitch, in everything. Red was horrified; it nearly brought tears to his eyes—he’d never be able to forget that sound. The doctor, who’d pulled back immediately, had taken a step back from Josie; stunned by her reaction to something she’d surely experienced countless times throughout her life. A medical professional for the better part of his life, he was still at a loss for words, he’d never seen anything like this. Josie returned to her sullen state, rocking back & forth in record time, as if she hadn’t just nearly broken all the glass in the office with her ghastly whaling. 

“You think she’s gonna get over this, doc?” Red asked in a low voice, outside of the examination room, when the two of them were finally alone. The question had been gnawing at him since her return; it poured out of his mouth quickly, desperately. The physician’s eyes closed, as if he was giving the question some thought, but the words left his lips quicker than expected, with a sigh, “Honestly, Mr. Johnson, I, – Red, I have no idea.” He couldn’t bear to lie to the rather pathetic-looking man in front of him, sympathy swelling in the pit of his chest for this unfortunate situation he found himself in. A week, that’s all it took for this normal, healthy woman to be reduced to something almost… feral. There was no explanation for this; no manual, no guide—everyone dealing with Josie’s case was just as blind as the next person.

“She probably just needs time to recover from the trauma of whatever happened to her… The process is different for everyone.” Red must have heard that catchall answer from fifteen different professionals. In the meantime, he’d have to wait.

Two nurses had to hold Josie down to get one vile of blood from her.

On her twenty-seventh day home, Josie told Red calmly that she wanted to water the plants in garden. It was the first normal thing that she’d said to him in the month, for the first time since she’d been home she almost sounded like herself. Red couldn’t believe his ears, and he couldn’t help himself from trotting right to the garden hose, and filling up the watering can for her in a state of sheer delight. Perhaps she was slowly coming out of this; maybe there was a light at the end of this tunnel they’d found themselves in. An overreaction? Probably. But damn, if he wasn’t the happiest man in the world in that moment. He placed the watering can carefully in her hands, his still shaking slightly as he did so from the excitement of it all, water sloshing onto his shirt, and onto the ground. She received the watering can as if it weighed nothing at all, giving him a cold, and unnatural smile that in all their years together, he’d never seen before. It looked like she had to force it onto her features. He wanted to count that one as a win; shit, he hadn’t seen her smile since she’d returned, but he couldn’t bring himself to. He felt his stomach turn, but he smiled back at her nonetheless. No one said this was going to be easy. He tried to convince himself must have been reading it wrong. Surely she meant nothing by it. Surely it was the same sweet smile he was used to seeing.

As Josie tended to the garden, Red busied himself with plucking some weeds from the cracks in the driveway, summer sun beating down on the back of his neck. He was hot, and haggard; the thought of going inside, and taking a look at the Sunday paper in the air condition crossed his mind more than once, but he couldn’t imagine leaving Josie outside on her own after all that had happened. He had to keep an eye on her, just in case she decided she wanted to wander off. And besides his nagging suspicion, and paranoia, it felt to him like their first real day in together in a month, like everything else had been a long, drawn out dream. She was coming back to him, finally. His Josie was coming back to him.

Like most happiness in life, and in Wade, this happiness of Red’s was short-lived—very short-lived. The crashing of the watering can against the stone of the walkway by the garden brought him back to reality from the sweet little daydream he was having. Thinking she’d fallen, Red turned on his heel to try to help her as quickly as he could, but only the watering can remained by the time he ran back to where she’d been working. Josie was nowhere to be seen.

DISPATCH: 911… What’s –

RED JOHNSON: It’s happening again!

DISPATCH: What’s happening again, sir?

RED JOHNSON: My wife, she’s gone. I was just—I was just with her—please, you have to help me, she’s not well…

DISPATCH: Sir, slow down.

This time Wade Police had to call in state troopers to help them find Josie. Everyone by this time was confident that she had some kind of quick-bake form of dementia, that she was wandering off, lost in the confines of her own mind. Even Red himself came to believe that was the only logical explanation for the running off, and sudden shift in her personality. He just needed her home so they could get her the help she needed; he’d go through anything with her, no matter how difficult it seemed like it was going to be.

It took days, but her body was discovered by two boys on bikes in a clearing surrounded by woods on the edge of town where kids like to hang out. No one had any idea how she’d gotten miles, and miles from the home by foot, or how she looked so untouched. She was still perfectly manicured, hair nearly parted, and buttons done all the way up on her shirt. Her white gardening gloves were still on, crisp, and clean as the moment she’d put them on. No dirt on her jeans, no leaves in her hair; nothing to indicate that she’d been roaming the wilderness for days, no signs of any type of struggle for her life against any type of predator. The body hadn’t even begun to decompose. The assumption, and the story the police decided to run with, was that her body had just sort of given out—she was in her seventies, after all, it’s not unthinkable. They didn’t have to make this about foul play, and get the town anymore riled up than it already was. Damage control. Her heart, it must have been some kind of issue with her heart. 

There as an autopsy was done at the request of Josie, and Red’s daughter, Caroline, who had gone with her mother to every single one of her doctor’s appointments before this ordeal, and knew she, was in excellent health for her age prior to this incident. Her dying simply didn’t make sense. There was no problem with her heart before; hell, Red was in far worse shape than she was, he should have been the one laying on that table, not Josie. She was supposed to have at least ten good years in her. Caroline insisted that her mother was healthy as a horse before her passing. The coroner couldn’t determine an “exact” cause of death for Josie Johnson, but they were able to uncover a few inexplicable oddities– most shocking of which being the contents of her stomach at the time of death. It appeared as if Josie had, just before she passed, consumed the human remains of an un-identifiable individual. They were still in her stomach; still intact, barely digested by the time she was opened up. No one wanted to believe it. No one wanted to know what it meant. No one wanted to read into it. And NO ONE wanted that information getting around town, especially Red, who was reeling from the death of his wife, and sure this whole thing had to be some kind of mistake. No one knows who told who, or how everyone in Wade was suddenly aware of what Josie had for her last meal. Nothing stays buried in suburbia. Town treasure Josie Johnson made a snack out of some poor sucker seconds before she croaked. Unbelievable.

“Little old ladies just don’t eat people. What the hell is happening in Wade?”

#mystery rp #skeleton rp #new rp #oc rp #town rp #rp teaser #middletalk

[skarletterambles]

Mummy re-(re-re-re-)watch blog

Because sometimes self-care is rewatching your favorite movie for the first time in many years, I’m currently enjoying The Mummy (1999) on a nice big flat screen TV and eating pizza.  Life is good.

Random thoughts typed while watching (so expect typos) below...

[Disclaimers:  Obviously, this post contains massive spoilers for a 20-year-old movie, if anyone actually needs to be told that.  There are spoilers for The Mummy Returns, as well.  Also, I’m an unapologetic Imhotep fangirl so don’t expect me to talk about him like he’s some kind of villain.  That’s just silly!  Ahem.  I have the hots for Rick and Ardeth, too, though, so the drool will be spread out a bit.]

..............................

Imhotep’s priests really got the raw end of the deal.  They were just there to watch the door and make sure nobody interrupted their boss’ booty call, and they ended up witnessing regicide and then getting mummified alive.  Dang.

I bet the noise of the battle with all those horses and guns above him irritated Imhotep.  No wonder he sent sand jets up to scare away Rick and the others.  Damn kids, get off my lawn--er, necropolis!

Honestly, the havoc Evy wreaked on her library only made it look slightly worse than my workplace this summer.  :p  At least she didn’t have to worry about DVD shelving...  [Only I get this reference, but trust me, to me it’s hilarious, in a “if I don’t laugh I’ll cry” kind of way.]

Rick is damn good-looking when he’s all bedraggled and beat up, and even better looking when he cleans up.  The look on Evy’s face when she sees him after a haircut and a change of clothes, well... Same, girl.  Same.

Beni is one of my favorite comic relief characters of all time.

The Med-Jai wouldn’t have threatened Evy on the boat if they knew she was the reincarnation of their long-dead boss’ daughter.  I’m picturing Seti in the afterlife facepalming...

I had forgotten how hostile and scary the Med-Jai were at first.

It’s amazing how much of the dialogue comes back to me, though.  Even throwaway background lines like Jonathan complaining about the price of the camels.

Evy’s sheer joy over everything camel-related is so freaking adorable.

That first chitter of scarab beetles...my least favorite part of the movie.  Heh.

I can just imagine Imhotep in his sarcophagus, feeling the first hint of movement around him in over 3,000 years, and then freaking out as his sarcophagus falls through the ceiling and goes THUMP on the ground.  And then there’s screaming and everyone leaves.  He’d be like, WTF?

“He must have been someone of great importance...or someone who did something very naughty.”  Both correct, Evy...

It’s so not fair that Ardeth can be that drop-dead sexy-looking and have such a sexy voice.

And here’s that “I...AM A LIBRARIAN!” line that everyone in my line of work loves so much.  Heehee...

Mummy:  *bursts out of sarcophagus* Evy:  “Gah, I hate it when these things do that!” LMAO

Of course Imhotep scratched “Death is only the beginning” into the inside of his sarcophagus lid like a bored emo kid in study hall.

“If you dry that fella out you might be able to sell ‘im for firewood!”  As I’m sure the writers knew, they actually did burn mummies to fuel trains back in less enlightened times.  And grind them up for medicine and paint and all kinds of stupid, disrespectful things.

I love how they refer to Imhotep as “our friend” and “our guy” when they’re discussing how horrible his curse was.  That sympathy fades quickly enough once they meet him, though.

“Probably got a little too frisky with the Pharaoh’s daughter.”  No, Rick, that’s you.  Bwahahahaha!

“No harm ever came from reading a book.”  Evy, you’re a librarian.  You should know better.

Poor Imhotep must have been so stiff after not moving for a few thousand years. I bet he had to do some stretches before he went looking for people to drain life force from.

Forecast for today:  mostly sunny with a 90% chance of locust plague.

Gotta love Imhotep’s one-track mind.  Woke up for the first time in 3k years, just regained sight and speech, and the first freaking thing he does is assume the first woman he sees is Anck-su-Namun.  Because of course he does.

I wonder if Ardeth got any backlash from the rest of the Med-Jai for giving the interlopers a chance to leave Hamunaptra.  If he had just slaughtered them all the previous night, none of this mess would have happened.

“He will never eat.  He will never sleep.  He will never stop.”  Awwwwwyeah.

Because he looks so rotted, Imhotep looks threatening as he slowly advances on Beni, but if he was fully regenerated I bet his expression would have been confused and even slightly amused at Beni’s religious roulette, something along the lines of “WTF is this idiot doing?”

Imhotep, did you really need to wear a mask to meet a blind guy?  (I know, I know, he needed the disguise to get through the hotel, but it’s still funny.)

He was even polite enough to thank Evy for saving him from undeath.  What a nice mummy!

Med-Jai discussing Imhotep and Anck-su-Nam:  “Even after 3,000 years, he’s still in love with her.” Evy:  “Well, that’s all very romantic, but...” Me:  “Yes.  Yes it is.  Shut up.”

“You came back from the desert with a new friend, didn’t you, Beni?”  One of my all-time favorite lines, and one I randomly quoted to my late goldfish, Benny, many times over the years.  LOL

Couldn’t Beni have found some better clothes for Imhotep to wear?  Those ragged robes make him look like a beggar.  Although considering he was running around in nothing but a few wisps of rotten bandages before, they couldn’t afford to be choosy.

The casual way Imhotep chews that scarab beetle that crawled into his mouth is such a power move.  LMAO

The longing in his voice as he whispers Anck-su-Namun’s name almost makes up for the fact that he kissed Evy right afterward.  I know you’re impatient to get your girlfriend back, man, but control yourself.  :p

Another classic bit: Evy, trying to translate hieroglyphics:  “Patience is a virtue!” Rick, looking at incoming torch-bearing mob:  “Not right now it isn’t!”

The crowds chanting “Im-ho-tep” are so iconic, and the way they part to let him pass gives me shivers.

“It’s the creature!”  Thanks for the reminder, as he’s now fully regenerated and looking damn fine.

OMG that little smirk Imhotep gives to Rick as he turns to walk away with Evy...  Imhotep isn’t stupid.  He can see Rick’s in love with her.

Ardeth wearing that flight cap and goggles, grinning as he rides on the plane’s wing, is the funniest damn thing in the movie.  It’s such a departure from his usual demeanor, which is what makes it work so well from a comedic perspective.

Why did Imhotep stop the sand vortex so far from Hamunaptra?  He could have deposited himself, Beni, and Evy on the doorstep, but instead he stopped on the other end of the valley.  I mean, sure, it gives plenty of room for the famous sand wall attack scene, but it was still weird.

Evy:  “Stop it!  You’ll kill them!” Beni:  “That’s the idea.” Well...YEAH!

Beni to Imhotep:  “I loved the, uh, sand wall trick, it was beautiful.  Bastard.”  That’s funny enough, and then you remember that Imhotep doesn’t understand English, and it’s even funnier.  Stop trying to brown-nose a man who doesn’t speak your language, Beni!

The whole Winston subplot always seemed so pointless.  Just deus ex machina to get the airplane in there.  Honestly, that’s my only complaint about the movie.

Yeah, Imhotep, you had better bow back when your newly-risen priests bow to you.  You owe them big time after the shitstorm you dragged them into.

OMG Ardeth is even more gorgeous in the glow of gold artifacts.  Heehee...

And then some of Imhotep’s priests barely rise from the ground before being mowed down by machine gun fire.  Damn, they get the short end of the stick every time, don’t they?

One second I’m like, “Oh hai Anck.  You need to moisturize better, lawl,” and then the next Imhotep strokes her face with such tenderness and whispers her name and I’m like, “Awwwww!”  That’s what’s so much fun about these movies.  There’s the silly, campy fun intertwined with actually poignant, emotional moments, in perfect balance.

I just noticed that Anck-Su-Namun’s reaction to being resurrected both in the prologue and later as a mummy was the same gasp and fluttering of her hands over her collarbone.  Neat detail.

There’s this little glimmer of “Whoa, cool, I did that!” sometimes when Imhotep uses his powers.  It’s adorable.  (Yes, I just called an undead plague-bringer summoning mummified soldiers to kill his enemies “adorable.”  I warned you in the disclaimer.)

I love how Anck-su-Namun’s first response when waking up was to try to beat the crap out of Evelyn/Nefertiri.  Old habits die hard, y’know.  She was probably disappointed that her opponent didn’t remember the old ways of combat...yet.

I hate that poor Imhotep had to watch the love of his life be killed in silhouette twice.

And again he promises, “Death is only the beginning.”

Then it’s time for one last moment of Ardeth being hot beyond all reason, some Rick and Evy kisses, Jonathan getting a face full of camel breath, and a happy ending for at least those four characters.  ;)

The end...for now!

#the mummy

[regencyresource]

( * &. ━ list of slang words from the 1920′s

presenting a long list of slang terms from the “roaring twenties" ! the age of mobsters and jazz ! the time of longing after married women and staring into green-lights to include in your literary ventures ! i claim no ownership for this list, it was sourced HERE.

A

Alderman: A man's pot-belly

Ameche: Telephone 

Ankle: (n) Woman; (v) To walk 

Ab-so-lute-ly: Affirmative, yes 

Absent treatment: Dancing with a timid partner 

Air tight: Very attractive 

Airedale: An unattractive man 

Alarm clock: A chaperone 

All wet: Incorrect 

And how!: I strongly agree! 

Applesauce: Flattery, nonsense, i.e.. "Aw, applesauce!" 

Attaboy!: Well done!; also, Attagirl! 

B

Babe: Woman 

Baby: A person, can be said to either a man or a woman 

Bangtails: Racehorses 

Barber: Talk 

Be on the nut: To be broke 

Bean-shooter: Gun 

Beef: Problem 

Bee's Knees: An extraordinary person, thing or idea

Beezer: Nose 

Behind the eight ball: In a difficult position, in a tight spot 

Bent Cars: Stolen cars 

Big Cheese, Big Shot: The boss, someone of importance and influence 

Big House: Jail 

Big One: Death 

Big Sleep: Death 

Bim: Woman 

Bindle: The bundle in which a hobo carries all his worldly possessions 

Bindle punk or bindle stiff: Chronic wanderers, migratory harvest workers, and lumber jacks

Bing: Jailhouse talk for solitary confinement 

Bird: Man 

Bit: Prison sentence 

Blip off: To kill 

Blow: Leave 

Blow one down: Kill someone 

Blower: Telephone 

Bluenose: A prude

Bo: Pal, buster, fellow 

Boiler: Car 

Boob: Dumb guy 

Boozehound: Drunkard 

Bop: To kill 

Box: A safe or a bar 

Box job: A safecracking 

Brace (somebody): Grab, shake up 

Bracelets: Handcuffs 

Break it up: Stop that, quit the nonsense 

Breeze: To leave, breeze off: get lost 

Broad: Woman 

Bruno: Tough guy, enforcer 

Bucket: Car 

Bulge, The: The advantage 

Bulls: Plainclothes railroad cops; uniformed police; prison guards 

Bum's rush, To get the: To be kicked out 

Bump: Kill 

Bump Gums: To talk about nothing worthwhile 

Bump off: Kill; also, bump-off: a killing 

Burn powder: Fire a gun 

Bus: Big car 

Butter-and-egg-man: The money man, the man with the bankroll, a yokel who comes to town to blow a big wad in nightclubs 

Button: Face, nose, end of jaw 

Button man: Professional killer 

Buttons: Police 

Butts: Cigarettes 

Buzz: Looks person up, comes to persons door 

Buzzer: Policeman's badge 

C

C: $100, a pair of Cs = $200 

Cabbage: Money 

Caboose: Jail 

Call copper: Inform the police 

Can: Jail, Car 

Can house: Bordello 

Can-opener: Safecracker who opens cheap safes 

Canary: Woman singer 

Carry a Torch: Suffering from an unrequited love

Case dough: Nest egg 

Cat: Man 

Cat's Meow: Something splendid or stylish 

Cat's Pajamas: Term of endearment as in "I think you are really really cool"

Century: $100 

Cheaters: Sunglasses 

Cheese it: Put things away, hide 

Chew: Eat 

Chicago lightning: Gunfire 

Chicago overcoat: Coffin 

Chick: Woman 

Chilled off: Killed 

Chin: Conversation; chinning: talking 

Chin music: Punch on the jaw 

Chinese squeeze: Grafting by skimming profits off the top 

Chippy: Woman of easy virtue 

Chisel: To swindle or cheat 

Chiv: Knife, "a stabbing or cutting weapon" 

Chopper squad: Men with machine guns 

Chump: Person marked for a con or a gullible person

Clammed: Close-mouthed (clammed up) 

Clean sneak: An escape with no clues left behind 

Clip joint: In some cases, a nightclub where the prices are high and the patrons are fleeced 

Clipped: Shot 

Close your head: Shut up 

Clout: Shoplifter 

Clubhouse: Police station 

Con: Confidence game, swindle 

Conk: Head 

Cool: To knock out 

Cooler: Jail 

Cop: Detective, even a private one 

Copped, to be: Grabbed by the cops 

Copper: Policeman 

Corn: Bourbon ("corn liquor") 

Crab: Figure out 

Crate: Car 

Croak: To kill 

Croaker: Doctor 

Crush: An infatuation 

Crushed out: Escaped (from jail) 

Cut down: Killed 

D

Daisy: None too masculine 

Dame: Woman 

Dance: To be hanged 

Dangle: Leave, get lost 

Daylight, as in "fill him with daylight": Put a hole in, by shooting or stabbing 

Deck, as in "deck of Luckies": Pack of cigarettes 

Derrick: Shoplifter 

Dib: Share (of the proceeds) 

Dick: Detective (usually qualified with "private" if not a policeman) 

Dingus: Thing 

Dip: Pickpocket 

Dip the bill: Have a drink 

Dish: Pretty woman 

Dive: A low-down, cheap sort of place 

Dizzy with a dame, To be: To be deeply in love with a woman 

Do the dance: To be hanged 

Dogs: Feet 

Dope fiend: Drug addict 

Dope peddler: Drug dealer 

Dough: Money 

Drift: Go, leave 

Drill: Shoot 

Drop a dime: Make a phone call, sometimes meaning to the police to inform on someone 

Droppers: Hired killers 

Drum: Speakeasy 

Dry-gulch: Knock out, hit on head after ambushing 

Duck soup: Easy, a piece of cake 

Dummerer: Someone who pretends to be deaf and/or dumb to appear a more deserving beggar 

Dump: Roadhouse, club; or, more generally, any place 

Dust out: Leave, depart 

E

Egg: Man 

Electric cure: Electrocution 

Elephant ears: Police 

F

Fade: Go away, get lost 

Fakeloo artist: Con man 

Fella: A man 

Fin: $5 bill 

Finder: Finger man 

Finger, Put the finger on: Identify 

Flaming Youth: Male counterpart to a flapper

Flapper: A stylish, brash young woman with short skirts and shorter hair

Flat Tire: A dull-witted or disappointing date

Flattie: Flatfoot, cop 

Flimflam: Swindle 

Flippers: Hands 

Flivver: A Ford automobile 

Flogger: Overcoat 

Flop: Go to bed or fallen through, not worked out 

Flophouse: A cheap transient hotel where a lot of men sleep in large rooms 

Fog: To shoot 

Frail: Woman 

Frau: Wife 

Fry: To be electrocuted 

Fuzz: Police 

G

Gal: Woman 

Gams: A Woman’s Legs 

Gasper: Cigarette 

Gat: Gun 

Get Sore: Get mad 

Getaway sticks: Legs 

Giggle juice: Liquor 

Giggle Water: Liquor 

Gin mill: Bar 

Glad rags: Fancy clothes 

Glaum: Steal 

Goofy: Crazy 

Goog: Black eye 

Goon: Thug 

Gooseberry lay: Stealing clothes from a clothesline 

Gowed-up: On dope, high 

Grab (a little) air: Put your hands up 

Graft: Con jobs or cut of the take 

Grand: $1000 

Grift: Confidence game, swindle 

Grifter: Con man 

Grilled: Questioned 

Gumshoe: Detective 

Gumshoeing: Detective work 

Gun for: Look for, be after 

Guns: Pickpockets, Hoodlums 

Guy: A man 

H

Hack: Taxi 

Half, a: 50 cents 

Hard: Tough 

Harlem Sunset: Some sort fatal injury caused by knife 

Hash House: A cheap restaurant 

Hatchet men: Killers, gunmen 

Have the Bees: To be rich 

Head doctors: Psychiatrists 

Heap: Car 

Heat: Police 

Heater: Gun 

Heebie-Jeebies: The jitters

Heeled: Carrying a gun 

High-Hat: To snub 

High Pillow: Person at the top, in charge 

Highbinders: Corrupt politician or functionary 

Hinky: Suspicious 

Hitting the pipe: Smoking opium 

Hitting on all eight: In good shape, going well 

Hock shop: Pawnshop 

Hogs: Engines 

Hombre: Man, fellow 

Hooch: Liquor 

Hood: Criminal 

Hoofer: Dancer

Hoosegow: Jail 

Horn: Telephone 

Hot: Stolen 

Hotsy-Totsy: Pleasing

House dick: House/hotel detective 

House peeper: House/hotel detective 

Hype: Shortchange artist 

I

Ice : Diamonds 

Ing-bing, as in to throw an: A fit 

Iron: A car 

J

Jack: Money 

Jalopy: An old car

Jam: Trouble, a tight spot 

Jane: A woman 

Java: Coffee 

Jaw: Talk 

Jerking a nod: Nodding 

Jingle-brained: Addled 

Jobbie: Man 

Joe: Coffee, as in "a cup of joe" 

Johns: Police 

Johnson brother: Criminal 

Joint: Place, as in "my joint" 

Juice: Interest on a loanshark's loan 

Jug: Jail 

Jump, The: A hanging 

K

Kale: Money 

Keen: Attractive or appealing

Kick off: Die 

Kiss: To punch 

Kisser: Mouth 

Kitten: Woman 

Knock off: Kill 

L

Lammed off: Ran away, escaped 

Large: $1,000; twenty large would be $20,000 

Law, the: The police 

Lead, "fill ya full of lead": the term used for bullets 

Lead poisoning: To be shot 

Lettuce: Folding money 

Lid: Hat 

Line: Insincere flattery

Lip: (Criminal) lawyer 

Looker: Pretty woman 

Look-out: Outside man 

Lousy with: To have lots of 

M

Mac: A man 

Made: Recognized 

Map: Face 

Marbles: Pearls 

Mark: Sucker, victim of swindle or fixed game 

Maroon: Person marked for a con or a gullible person

Meat wagon: Ambulance 

Mickey Finn: A drink drugged with knock-out drops 

Mill: Typewriter 

Mitt: Hand 

Mob: Gang (not necessarily Mafia) 

Mohaska: Gun 

Moll: Girlfriend 

Monicker: Name 

Mouthpiece: Lawyer 

Mugs: Men (especially refers to dumb ones) 

N

Nailed: Caught by the police 

Nevada gas: Cyanide 

Newshawk: Reporter 

Newsie: Newspaper vendor 

Nibble one: To have a drink 

Nicked: Stole 

Nippers: Handcuffs 

Noodle: Head 

Number: A person 

O

Off the track: Said about a person who becomes insanely violent 

Op: Detective 

Orphan paper: Bad checks 

Out on the roof: To drink a lot, to be drunk 

Oyster fruit: Pearls 

P

Packing Heat: Carrying a gun 

Pal: A man 

Palooka: Man, probably not very smart 

Pan: Face 

Paste: Punch 

Patsy: Person who is set up; fool, chump 

Paw: Hand 

Peaching: Informing 

Peeper: Detective 

Peepers: Eyes 

Pen: Penitentiary, jail 

Peterman: Safecracker who uses nitroglycerin 

Piece: Gun 

Pigeon: Stool-pigeon 

Pinch: An arrest, capture 

Pins: Legs 

Pipe: See or notice 

Pipes: Throat 

Plant: Someone on the scene but in hiding, Bury 

Plug: Shoot 

Plugs: People 

Poke: Bankroll, stake 

Pooped: Killed 

Pop: Kill 

Pro skirt: Prostitute 

Puffing: Mugging 

Pug: Pugilist, boxer 

Pump: Heart 

Pump metal: Shoot bullets 

Punk: Hood, thug 

Pushover: A person easily convinced of something

Puss: Face 

Put down: Drink 

Put the screws on: Question, get tough with 

R

Rags: Clothes 

Ranked: Observed, watched, given the once-over 

Rap: Criminal charge 

Rappers: Fakes, set-ups 

Rat: Inform 

Rate: To be good, to count for something 

Rats and mice: Dice, i.e. craps 

Rattler: Train 

Red-light: To eject from a car or train 

Redhot: Some sort of criminal 

Reefers: Marijuana cigarettes 

Rhino: Money 

Right: Adjective indicating quality 

Ringers: Fakes 

Ritzy: Elegant 

Rod: Gun 

Roscoe: Gun 

Rub-out: A killing 

Rube: Bumpkin, easy mark 

Rumble, the: The news 

S

Sap: A dumb guy 

Sap poison: Getting hit with a sap 

Savvy: Get me? Understand? 

Sawbuck: $10 bill (a double sawbuck is a $20 bill) 

Schnozzle: Nose 

Scram out: Leave 

Scratch: Money 

Scratcher: Forger 

Send over: Send to jail 

Shamus: (Private) detective 

Sharper: A swindler or sneaky person 

Sheba: A woman with sex appeal 

Sheik: A man with sex appeal 

Shells: Bullets 

Shiv: Knife 

Shylock: Loanshark 

Shyster: Lawyer 

Sing: Make a confession 

Sister: Woman 

Skate around: To be of easy virtue 

Skid rogue: A bum who can't be trusted 

Skirt: Woman 

Slant, Get a: Take a look 

Sleuth: Detective 

Slug: A bullet or to knock unconscious 

Smoked: Drunk 

Snap a cap: Shout 

Snatch: Kidnap 

Sneeze: Take 

Snitch: An informer, or to inform 

Snooper: Detective 

Speakeasy: An illicit bar selling bootleg liquor 

Spiffy: Looking elegant 

Soak: To pawn 

Sock: Punch 

Soup: Nitroglycerine 

Soup job: To crack a safe using nitroglycerine 

Spill: Talk, inform 

Spinach: Money 

Spitting: Talking 

Square: Honest 

Squeeze: A female companion or girlfriend

Squirt metal: Shoot bullets 

Step off: To be hanged 

Stiff: A corpse 

Sting: Culmination of a con game 

Stool-pigeon: Informer 

Stoolie: Stool-pigeon 

Stuck On: Having a crush on 

Sucker: Someone ripe for a grifter's scam 

Sugar: Money 

Swanky: Ritzy 

Swell: Wonderful 

T

Tail: Shadow or follow 

Take a powder: Leave 

Take on: Eat 

Take for a Ride: Drive off with someone in order to bump them off 

Take the air: Leave 

Take the bounce: To get kicked out 

Take the fall for: Accept punishment for 

That's the crop: That's all of it 

Three-spot: Three-year jail term 

Throw lead: Shoot bullets 

Ticket: P.I. license 

Tiger milk: Some sort of liquor 

Tighten the screws: Put pressure on somebody 

Tin: Badge 

Tip a few: To have a few drinks 

Tomato: Pretty woman 

Tooting the wrong ringer: Asking the wrong person 

Torpedoes: Gunmen 

Trap: Mouth 

Trigger man: Man whose job is to use a gun 

Trouble boys: Gangsters 

Twist: Woman 

Two bits: $25, or 25 cents 

U

Under glass: In jail 

W

Weak sister: A push-over 

Wear iron: Carry a gun 

Wise head: A smart person 

Wooden kimono: A coffin 

Wop: derogatory term for an Italian 

Worker, as in "She sizes up as a worker": A woman who takes a guy for his money 

Wrong gee: Not a good fellow 

Wrong number: Not a good fellow 

Y

Ya Follow: do you understand? 

Yap: Mouth 

Yard: $100 

Yegg: Safecracker who can only open cheap and easy safes 

Z

Zotzed: Killed

Zozzled: Drunk

#vocabulary guide #writing resource #writing guide #writing help #rph #Resource: Writing #*g #*mine

[welllpthisishappening]

Beggars and Blighters and Ne'er Do-Well Cads

Emma Swan is just trying to make sure her kid's birthday goes off without a hitch, but the world doesn't appear to care. At all.

Because she's got no idea where the cupcakes are, and Mary Margaret is apparently threatening parents, and there's some kind of pirate standing in front of her with a goddamn hook and a smile that should be illegal.

The world is a giant joke. Happy birthday, Henry.

Rating: As fluffy as the buttercream frosting on the pirate-themed cupcakes. Word Count: Like 8K and change. AN: IT IS @katie-dub​‘s BIRTHDAY, INTERNET! GO FORTH AND TELL HER HOW WONDERFUL SHE IS! Because it is a fact. Katie is wonderful. She is the sweetest and most supportive and so absurdly talented it’s ridiculous. Plus she’s the greatest mom I know and she deserves all the nice things. Seriously go tell her how fantastic she is. Happy birthday, babe <3 <3 <3 Also on Ao3 if that’s how you roll

“Where are the cupcakes?” “What?” “The cupcakes,” Emma shouts, drawing a few curious stares because they’re at some park by the water with some sort of wooden castle that she’s pretty certain is several different hazards, and she has no idea where the goddamn cupcakes are. “There are supposed to be cupcakes here,” she continues, pointing at the empty spot on one of the half a dozen picnic tables behind her. Her voice still isn’t quite even.

And Mary Margaret looks a little scared of her.

That’s fair.

But it’s been a ridiculous week and a half and moving just before Henry’s eighth birthday in the middle of the school year suddenly seems like the worst idea Emma has ever had – even if Storybrooke is the perfect place to raise a kid and the Sheriff gig inexplicably pays more than she was ever going to make doing anything in Boston and the apartment they found is only a few streets away from Mary Margaret and David and the onion rings at Granny’s are…

It doesn’t matter.

The only thing that matters is finding the goddamn cupcakes.

“What kind of cupcakes are we talking here?” Mary Margaret asks lightly, and Emma has to bite her tongue to stop herself from sighing because she’s absolutely freaked out her best friend.

She hopes none of the kids break anything on that wooden monstrosity.

She hopes the kids show up.

God.

“Birthday cupcakes,” Emma answers, but it kind of sounds like a question, and Mary Margaret’s eyebrows will not stop moving. “Because this is a birthday party.” “Ok, see, I know you’re stressed out, but you don’t have to--” “--I know, I know, M’s, I’m sorry. I just...cupcakes. Henry wanted cupcakes because cutting a cake was going to take too long and Ruby promised me there was some kind of incredible bakery on some street with a kitschy name.” Mary Margaret’s eyebrows stop moving long enough for her to narrow her eyes slightly in thought, and she laughs under her breath when she remembers. “Oh, oh, Spoonful of Sugar,” she says, as if it’s the most obvious name for a bakery in the world.

This town is ridiculous.

If every kid in Henry’s class doesn’t show up, Emma might go and arrest all of their parents.

That seems like an abuse of power.

David would probably help her.

He got her the job, so she figures it’s part of the bylaws of fellow law enforcement and friendship. She’s sure there’s a decree somewhere. Probably in the Storybrooke Town Hall. This seems like the kind of place with friendship decrees on file.

“Is this bakery run by Mary Poppins?” Emma asks, doing her best to keep the vitriol out of her voice, but Ruby promised and this party is going to suck without cupcakes. They can’t just eat BBQ all day, even if David is wearing some absurd apron with an even more absurd saying on it, and Emma kind of hates hot dogs.

Maybe she’s the one who wants the cupcakes.

“See, you think that’s funny,” Mary Margaret says. “But it’s actually run by a woman named Dorothy who is incredibly nice and really does make fantastic cupcakes.” “Yuh huh.” “That reeked of judgment.” Emma shakes her head. “No judgment. Acknowledgement. How long have Ruby and Dorothy been dating, then? And seriously what’s the name of the street this place is on? I can’t remember, but I know it was ridiculous.” Mary Margaret gapes at her, which shouldn’t make Emma feel better, but it kind of does and she clearly doesn’t belong in a place like Storybrooke.

She’s far too bitter.

“That’s not an answer, M’s,” Emma points out.

“How did you figure that out?” “Figure what out? I really can’t remember the street name. Was it something about the water? This seems like the kind of place that would have streets named like...Surf Ave.” “This is not Coney Island.” “Kids would probably come to a party at Coney Island.” Mary Margaret tilts her head, and it’s far too knowing and only slightly judgmental, but Emma supposes that comes from years of friendship and experience, and really they both just want Henry to have the best birthday an eight-year-old could possibly have.

“Coney Island is creepy now, Em,” David says, appearing out of seemingly nowhere with a tray of untoasted hamburger buns. “You can’t bring kids there. And it’s way too expensive. This is why New York is the worst.” “Yeah, tell that to my kid,” she sighs. Coney Island really is creepy though. And the parking’s a nightmare. The Cyclone always kind of freaked her out anyway.

Mary Margaret’s judgmental expression turns into something that feels a hell of a lot like pity, and there are still no cupcakes in sight. Emma is going to kill Ruby. “He understands,” Mary Margaret promises, and she might as well get that tattooed on her forehead at this point. “And the kids will show up. Who can resist a pirate-themed birthday party?”

“Did you tell kids to show up, M’s?” “What? No!”

She does a fairly good job of looking properly affronted and slightly offended, but she’s still Mary Margaret and neither one of those emotions really stick on her face, particularly when David is nodding surreptitiously behind her.

Emma’s laugh bubbles out of her, loud and honest and for the first time since she parked her bug outside the apartment that is, actually, pretty fantastic, she feels some of the tension in her muscles uncoil.

“That’s really nice, M’s,” Emma mutters. “I mean, a direct abuse of third-grade power, but also really nice.”

Mary Margaret clicks her tongue, but she’s given up on trying to look anything except protective of Emma and Henry’s collective happiness. “Whatever,” she grumbles. “David said he was going to find dirt on all of their parents if the kids didn’t come, so comparatively...”

“Turncoat,” David accuses, and they’re going to get kicked out of this park before the party is even scheduled to start.

That will probably make the questionable number of balloons taped to the wooden castle thing awkward. They must have bought out an entire party supply store.

Mary Margaret shrugs. “I’m just making sure we all know where we stand,” she says. “And that Regina said something about a town-wide decree so--” “--Wait, wait, Regina?” Emma interrupts, and she’s met with two pairs of matching wide-eyed stares. “As in your sister?” “Step-sister,” Mary Margaret corrects. “And the mayor of this town. She’s the one who made sure we could get the park. Did you not meet her husband? He’s been hanging balloons for hours on the castle.” “He bought the balloons,” David chips in, and Emma’s momentarily concerned about the distinct lack of oxygen on the entire planet.

Her lungs feel like they’re on fire.

Or that might just be the weight of her surprise.

“Your face is going to get stuck that way, Em,” David grins. He reaches forward to tap his finger on the side of her jaw, and she snaps it shut, the sound echoing in her ears and, possibly, her soul, and this town is impossible.

“People are going to show,” Mary Margaret promises, and Emma can’t really find it in her to doubt the words. “And Henry is going to be happy here. Even without the cupcakes.” “Hey!” Emma glances up to find Ruby striding towards them, several bags in her hands and a pinch between her eyebrows, and there’s suddenly a surplus of oxygen around them because she’s laughing again.

“What the hell are you guys talking about?” Ruby demands. “Did you think I was going to flake on cupcake duty?”

“Ruby, the kids,” Mary Margaret chastises, but it’s as if she didn’t even speak and Emma is far too busy being hysterical to reprimand. David sounds like he’s cackling.

“Was that also, somehow, a baking pun?” Emma asks. “Did your girlfriend teach you that? And can you please tell me what the name of the street this place is on is? It’s driving me nuts.”

David’s laugh gets louder.

“That was a baking pun,” Ruby points out, rolling her eyes when Emma hums in confusion. “God, the nuts thing. That’s...you put nuts in baked goods.” “Are there nuts in these?” Mary Margaret asks sharply. “Because Grace is super allergic to nuts. And pirates don’t like nuts. Right?” “I think pirates had to like nuts,” David reasons. “Right? Dry goods. Protein.” “Are you just saying words?” Ruby demands. “And, no, there are no nuts. I remembered what Henry asked for, God, can you guys give me some credit please?” “Well, you’re very late,” Emma shrugs. “Was that because of the inevitable flirting?” Ruby actually blushes, which may be the first time that has ever happened in the history of several different universes. The party is almost worth it. “How did you figure that out?” Ruby asks. “Did M’s tell you?”

Emma shakes her head, ignoring Mary Margaret’s mumbled that’s rude, and grabs one of the bags out of Ruby’s hands. “Nah,” she says. “Context clues. I’m very good at my job.” “I’m sure the people of Storybrooke feel safer already.” “See, you tease, but you almost ruined an entire pirate-themed party by showing up late and now we’ve apparently got a nut allergy to worry about and nut-type facts to confirm and--” “--We don’t have to confirm them,” David mumbles. ‘Pirates definitely ate like...almonds.” Ruby nearly falls over. Emma bites her lip to stop herself from laughing louder than is socially acceptable, but the guy, whose name might be Robin if memory serves, is still hanging balloons on the castle and he laughs loud enough for all of them combined.

“Ask Jones when he gets here,” he shouts, and Mary Margaret’s entire face goes alarmingly pale. Ruby’s lips all but disappear.

Emma lifts her eyebrows.. “What does that mean?” The three people around her – her three best friends and the reason she and Henry packed up their few belongings and moved their entire lives to this picture-perfect town where strangers just help other people – freeze, eyes wide and mouths parted slightly and Emma doesn’t need a single clue to know that something is going on.

“What did you guys do?” she asks, but there’s a hint of a threat in her voice, and Ruby’s lips quirk slightly.

“Nothing,” Mary Margaret answers.

“That’s an almost insulting lie.” “There is no lie. It’s fine.” “Yuh huh.” “Didn’t we do this already? I feel like we’re going in circles.” Emma nods, licking her lips and rocking on her heels, and Mary Margaret’s eyes dart towards Ruby. “That’s because you three are even worse than Henry at pretending like something isn’t going on. I’d be insulted if I didn’t have a party to worry about and parents to possibly threaten.” “Wait, what?” Ruby balks, but David makes a triumphant noise and his fist pump would have been abused even if he still weren’t wearing that ridiculous apron.

“I knew it,” he crows. “I knew you were thinking the same thing, too! You know, that Jefferson guy, the one with the allergy kid. He’s got like some shady thing going on with card tricks. If Henry ever has some kind of magic phase, I bet we can get him to play it.”

Emma blinks, but there’s more laughter coming from the castle. “Play it,” she echoes, and David nods enthusiastically. “What are you, some kind of hot-shot agent masquerading as law enforcement at this point?” “Nah, but I want Henry to be happy.” And just like that, Emma’s worries disappear or fall into the ocean nearby, washed away by surf and sunshine and spring in Storybrooke is some kind of idyllic setting – now with pirate-themed cupcakes for a pirate-themed birthday party because Henry is absolutely going through a very serious pirate phase.

“That’s stupid nice,” Emma mumbles, and it’s not exactly mature and not exactly right, because it’s a hell of a lot more than that, but it’s been a crazy week and a half and she’s not sure her neurons are firing exactly the way they’re supposed to.

“And there are no nuts in these cupcakes,” Ruby adds. “So, uh, let’s have a party, huh?”

Emma’s not sure what kind of marker an eight-year-old birthday party is supposed to reach, but she’s fairly certain, a few hours later, that they’ve surpassed it by several leaps and bounds.

The balloons on the castle don’t fly away and the no one gets hurt on the castle and David’s actually pretty good on the BBQ. It’s a success. The kids show up, and the parents are consistently nice and Emma almost forgets that her friends are absolutely not telling her something until it’s time to eat the goddamn cupcakes and two dozen eight-year-olds let out a collective noise that sounds like several bombs going off.

And Emma spins on the spot to find herself face to face with a pirate.

A goddamn, real-life, honest to God pirate.

Her jaw drops open, breath rushing out of her in a wholly undignified huff that only seems to amuse the pirate in front of her, and she has to blink or she’s certain her eyes are actually going to fall out of her head.

He grins at her, a flash of a smirk and far too blue eyes, and he’s got one of his hands resting on the hilt of a sword Emma can only hope is a very convincing replica. “Hello, darling,” he drawls, and she’s just resigned herself to letting her eyes fall out her head at this point, because she can’t blink. Maybe if her eyes just, like, land on this guys boots he’ll stop staring at her like that.

She can’t seem to settle on anything – she’s pretty positive he’s wearing eyeliner and it’s honestly unfair because he might be better at it than Emma is, and the jacket he’s got on must weight several tons, but he’s standing as if it’s a sheet of paper, and still smiling and she’s going to do permanent damage to her mouth if she keeps breathing out of it.

“Still with me, love?” he asks, and that seems to wake Emma up, shaking her head and inhaling quickly. “Wouldn’t want to have to save the fair damsel this early in the day.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

The guy shrugs, which just draws her attention back to the jacket and Emma’s breath catches when she notices his left hand – there’s a hook there. And the eight-year-olds are all screaming about Pan and Neverland and the Jolly Roger and something about Jack Sparrow, but the guy in front of her just keep staring at Emma like she’s about to offer him several ounces of pixie dust.

Or however the song went.

This place cannot be real.

“You’re Captain Hook,” Emma says, but it sounds like an accusation. His grin gets wider.

“At your service.” “Are you kidding me?” she asks, and she’s not really sure who she’s asking. Emma jerks her head around, staring at an apologetic looking Mary Margaret and a hysterical Ruby, and David is already waving his hands through the air like that’s an explanation for whatever the hell is going on.

They’ve got to hand out the cupcakes.

“Mom,” Henry yells, slamming into her side. He gapes at the pirate in front of them, still smirking – although it’s a bit softer now that he’s staring at the kid and Emma really hopes that sword is a fake. She doesn’t know enough about sword permits in Maine to arrest someone on a hunch.

And her kid is going through a pirate phase.

There’s a man dressed like a pirate at her kid’s birthday party.

“Mom,” Henry repeats, like she didn’t hear him before and isn’t just having several different mental breakdowns at once. “Can uh...can the pirate come over here? It’s uh…” He trails off, a bit star struck and a bit nervous, and Emma’s heart lurches in her chest when Captain Hook crouches in front of her kid, resting a hand on his shoulder and smiling with a sincerity that no pirate should ever have.

She’s clearly lost her mind.

“Of course, lad,” Captain Hook says, and Henry looks overjoyed. “That’s why I’m here.” Henry beams, and Emma has, at some point, lost the power of speech, staring slack jawed at the man when he grins at her over her shoulder. “At your leave, ma’am,” he says, which, really, is just stupid, but he knows it works and Emma knows it works and she nods slowly before he leaves in a swish of leather and the sun shining off his sword

She really has no idea what happens after that.

It’s a whirlwind of sugar and presents and goddamn Captain Hook, and David tries to explain what the hell is going on no less than twenty-seven times.

“Is this the mythical Jones?” Emma asks, finally, turning on David with another cupcake in his hand and she’s got a very strong suspicion he’s stress-eating baked goods.

No one ever answered her street name question.

It’s really something about water – she’s positive.

“He’s not mythical,” David mutters. “God, don’t tell him that. I’ll never hear the end of it.”

“I wasn’t really planning on talking to him again, so…” “No?” “No,” Emma says, shaking her head for good measure. It’s as much of a lie as the one she was told before though, because her eyes keep flitting back to Captain Hook or Jones or whatever his name is, and he’s started giving sword fighting instructions to a group of sugar-high third-graders. “Why is he here, though?” David’s face shifts, expression turning incredulous, and Emma rolls her eyes before he can tell Mary Margaret. “He lives here,” David answers, holding his hands up when Emma opens her mouth to cut in. “Don’t interrupt. He lives here. He’s friends with us. I just…” “You just?” “I didn’t think he’d actually show up.” Emma has, at least, seventy-two thousand questions, but the party is winding down and she’s got to put Henry’s presents in the back of her car and Mary Margaret must have a truly threatening side she rarely shows because there are lot of kids there.

Or maybe Henry is as great as Emma is certain he is.

It’s probably the second one. It’s definitely the second one.

She’s glad they’re in Storybrooke.

“Thanks for cooking, Sheriff,” Emma says instead, squeezing David’s shoulder, and she almost expects the hug he pulls her into. It’s warm and comforting and his hand on the back of her head is so normal, she actually closes her eyes and lets the happiness of the entire day sink into her soul or something equally absurd.

“Of course, Em,” David mutters. It sounds like a promise. “You want some help with the present jigsaw?” “I thought you’d never ask.”

It takes some time – and Ruby’s pointed suggestions once she realizes what’s going on – but they finally get all the presents in Emma’s trunk and a few more in her backseat because, apparently, the denizens of Storybrooke are the world’s most generous people on birthdays. And Emma actually introduces herself to Robin and thanks Regina for her help with the park and, although she’s loathe to admit, Jefferson does kind of look like a magician.

“I told you,” David hisses, as she tries to swallow down her laughter and thank Grace for coming. He stops talking when Ruby kicks him in the ankles.

Henry’s half asleep by the time all the other kids are gone, head lolling on Mary Margaret’s shoulder, but there are still balloons on the castle and leftover food to be picked up and they ordered way too many cupcakes.

Emma never got to eat a cupcake.

“You guys mind letting him hang out for awhile?” Emma asks. “I’ve got to keep cleaning up, and I don’t want him to just fall asleep on a park bench or something.” Mary Margaret’s nodding before she can even finish getting the reason out. “Of course,” she says. “You sure you don’t want us to stay and help though? David could stay. Ruby could stay. I could stay.” “None of these things end with Henry actually sleeping somewhere that isn’t a park bench.” “Ah, yeah, that might be true.” “Definitely,” Emma grins, brushing the hair out of her kid’s eyes, and her heart does that thumping in her chest thing again. “You have fun today, kid?” Henry hums sleepily, eyelids fluttering. “The pirate was really cool. Did you know there were pirates around here?” “Here? In Storybrooke?” “Mom…” “Sorry, sorry, kid. Tell me the story.” “Hook said there was a guy named Black Bart Robert and he kidnapped a writer a long time ago and he told him all about pirating and stealing and pillaging and the guy was from Boston and now Hook sails his ships there sometimes.” Emma narrows her eyes, not entirely sure she’s keeping up with the story, but Henry’s half asleep and Regina was nice enough about getting the park, but she was also very particular about cleaning it up. “Alright kid,” Emma says, brushing a kiss over Henry’s forehead. “We’ll talk about the pirates and the stories more later, ok?” He makes a noise in the back of his throat that Emma recognizes as the first few signs of imminent sleep, stumbling back towards David’s side, and he doesn’t walk to the car so much as he’s dragged to it.

“You sure you don’t want some help?” Mary Margaret asks again.

“Nah,” Emma objects. “It’s only a few things and then I can drop the presents off at home so I don’t have to worry about that while trying to get Henry to bed. I shouldn’t be that long.” Mary Margaret nods, the car already running and Henry’s probably already snoring in the backseat. And, really, it should have been easy. It was easy, Emma humming under her breath and trying to figure out what she’s going to do with all these excess baked good when she hears footsteps and she nearly throws a cupcake at his face.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” he yells. “Stand down. Or disarm. Whatever the technical term should be.”

Emma scoffs, but she doesn’t lower her arm and Captain Hook doesn’t look quite as self-assured when he’s being threatened with buttercream frosting. “What the hell are you doing here?” she demands. “Why...where were you even? Were you just lurking in the bushes?”

“Talking to Locksley and Regina. There were no bushes involved.” “Oh.” She wishes she came up with a more profound response, but his eyes really are distractingly blue and that coat is absurd and her heart appears to be trying to set some kind of record for beats per second or slightly quickened breath.

Emma’s breathing very quickly.

“It wasn’t my intention to absolutely terrify you,” Hook says, and she should probably stop referring to him as that in her head. “I just want to apologize.” Emma doesn’t expect that. She has no idea what she expect, mostly because she’s half positive she’s got frosting under her nails now, but she certainly did not expect Captain Hook to apologize for crashing her kid’s birthday party.

“Can you put the cupcake down?” he asks. “This coat is a rental and I really don’t want to have to pay extra dry cleaning fees.” Emma nods slowly, setting the cupcake down on the table behind her and she’s only slightly hopeful that there is, in fact, a table behind her. Hook smiles. “I have no idea what the hell is going on,” she admits. “My kid was calling you Hook.” “Yeah, well, that was kind of part of the deal.” “None of those words make sense in that order.” He chuckles, running a hand through his hair and tugging lightly on the piece that curls just behind his right ear. Emma wishes she hadn’t noticed that. She’ll probably think about that for a very long time. “I realize that,” Hook says. “This is...well it’s ridiculous, but you deserve an explanation. Do you...do you want to sit?” “You’re dressed like a pirate. Like Captain Hook.” “Yes.” “And there’s a reason for that?” “A vaguely convoluted one, but one I also hope you’ll find slightly entertaining and possibly a little endearing.” “Aiming real high, huh?” Hook hums, a sound that is equal parts nervous and kind of attractive, and Emma really resents that one piece of hair behind his ear. “Something like that,” he mumbles, and of course he sits on a bench like that, swinging one leg over the side until he’s straddling the goddamn thing.

Emma’s going to spend several hours looking up sword permits in the state of Maine and then she’s going to arrest Captain Hook.

Just because she can.

“You have a name?” she asks. “Like an actual one? Not...Captain Hook.”

“Captain Hook was his name. James, if you want to get technical.” “I really don’t.”

He narrows his eyes, like he’s analyzing Emma or waiting for her to arm herself with another cupcake. “Killian,” he answers, and maybe her heart just explodes or something. It’s an even more disgusting thought than that one about eyeballs from before. “My name is Killian Jones.”

“Emma Swan,” she says, sticking her hand out in front of her and she’s never actually sat down. There’s frosting on her finger.

“Yeah, I know that, actually.” “You’re not doing yourself any favors here, you realize that?” Killian nods, twisting to grab a handful of pirate-themed napkins. He flips his wrist, offering Emma the lot, and his fingers are warm when they brush over hers. “Yeah, I know that too,” he says, the smile still on his face, but his voice isn’t quite as certain and there’s not as much of that pirate charm anymore.

Emma assumes most pirates were, at some point, charming.

“So you’re some kind of very dedicated stalker, then?” she asks, finally sitting down. She pulls both her feet onto the bench, resting her chin on her knees and Killian’s eyes flash at the move, which, really, wasn’t the point, but she hasn’t flirted in awhile and she’s a little charmed by the whole thing.

At this point she’s certain her mind never even left New York.

“That actually almost makes this sound more responsible than it is,” Killian mutters. The sound Emma makes in response hurts her throat. “How well do you know Storybrooke?” “Not well enough apparently if there are so many stalkers roaming the streets.” “That’s not what is happening here.” “Now seems like a real good time to explain it then,” Emma suggests. “Otherwise I won’t just stain your jacket, I’ll cut it up with your stupid sword.” Killian’s head snaps up, smile tugging at the ends of his mouth, and flirting is kind of fun. If that’s what this is. Emma’s, like, ninety-two percent positive, but, again, this guy is dressed like a pirate and her internal organs all appear to be shutting down and she really wants to eat a cupcake. So her judgment is clearly clouded.

“I don’t think the sword is nearly sharp enough for that,” he says. “It’s a ridiculously heavy coat. Way too much leather.”

“You are really bad at staying on point, aren’t you?” The tips of his ears go read, tongue pressed into the corner of his mouth, and Emma needs to stop paying so much attention to his mouth. “I’m trying to save face, that’s why,” he grins. “Ok, this all starts about...when did you move here?” “Man, you’re a garbage stalker. That seems like the most important fact.” “I’m not stalking you. I’m really trying to explain this whole ridiculous plan.” Emma’s mind latches on to that last word, and she’s got more questions, but she waves, what she hopes, is a dismissive hand through the air, and Killian grins. “Have you been to Granny’s yet?” “Obviously.” “That was a fair question.” “The story, Jones!’ His grin widens, and it’s stupid because it’s so goddamn attractive. “Of course, Swan, of course,” he mutters. That’s even more attractive. “Well, if you’ve been to Granny’s then you know that there’s a very old, very well-used dart board in the back corner and that, from time to time, there have been known to be competitions.” “With the dart board?”

“And several grown men.” “I’m assuming that includes you.” “It does, in fact,” Killian nods. “And David. And Locksley. Scarlet sometimes too, but I don’t...have you met him?” “I don’t think so.” “You’d remember if you did, but he and Belle have been swamped with the renovation and--” “--Literally the worst story teller in the world,” Emma cuts in, hardly blinking in the face of Killian’s even stare. She can’t. That’s why. Again. She’s going to have to buy eye drops. “Fine, fine,” she grumbles. “Go ahead. I’m assuming this ends with you playing darts against David and Locksley.”

“You’re a crime-solving genius, Swan.” “And you’re the most frustrating person on the planet." “You keep giving me all these superlatives, love, and you’re going to do dangerous things to my ego.” “I thought that was part of the pirate act,” Emma says, but it comes out softer than she expected or, maybe, wanted, and Killian’s hair nearly falls in his eyes when he tilts his head. “It’s not as cute when you do it in real life.” They both freeze when they realize what she’s said, which, really, is just ridiculous – they’re both adults and, still, possibly flirting, but he keeps having to shift the sword on his hip so he can sit comfortably and Emma can smell the frosting under her nails now, and maybe she should let Henry stay at David and Mary Margaret’s because it’s getting kind of late and he’s the worst at waking up.

“From time to time, these dart games end with bets,” Killian says, bypassing the moment completely. Emma’s not sure if she appreciates that or not. “And, about a week ago, just after you moved here, and David announced that you were planning on throwing a pirate-themed party for your boy, a bet was made.” “About the party?” “Honestly, the criminals of Storybrooke won’t know what hit them when they encounter you, Swan.”

“I’m missing the endearing part of this,” Emma growls. “Are you trying to tell me that David bet on my kid’s birthday party?” Killian shakes his head quickly, eyebrows pulled low and he must have learned that expression from Mary Margaret. His looks a little more despairing though, as if the last thing he wants is for Emma to think poorly of him.

She’s very out of flirting practice.

“No, no, no,” he says quickly, waving his hands in the air. He nearly knocks over the napkin stack with his hook. “God,” he groans. “Well, it is kind of like that, but not in a bad way. We play darts. We eat. We try to act like normal, adult humans while eating a questionable amount of very greasy food.” “I wouldn’t advise telling Granny that.” “You’re picking up on the law of the land quickly, Swan.” “Occupational hazard,” she quips, working another smile out of him and it feels a bit like winning. She doesn’t know what. But something. Something good. Maybe. God. “Ok, so let me get this straight. You guys are talking, you’re gossiping, David mentions Henry’s birthday and you…” “Lose the dart game,” Killian finishes. “Yeah. I’d been out the night before and I was still exhausted. That’s my story, at least.” “Out?” “On the water.” Emma really wishes simple sentences would stop taking her by surprise like this. “Are you really a pirate?”

“Would you have to arrest me if I was?” “I’m already considering arresting you for the stalking thing and whatever kind of sword that is. I’m not entirely sure what Storybrooke's laws regarding piracy are.” Killian does something entirely unfair with three quarters of his face, leaning forward until Emma’s sure they’re sharing the same oxygen. She doesn’t move away. That, eventually, feels important. “I’d imagine,” Killian says slowly, “piracy is frowned upon in modern law enforcement.”

“Explain what you meant.” He salutes. It’s the dumbest thing Emma has ever seen. “As you deduced, I lost the dart game, which, more often than not, usually means i have to foot the bill. But, this time, David mentioned Henry’s birthday and the pirate theme, which at the moment, sparked several jokes about me. Because, while I’m not a pirate, I do own a ship and quite frequently sail said ship full of tourists to Portland and, sometimes, Boston.” “Boston?” Emma repeats, clearly taking Killian by surprise when that’s the part of the explanation she harps on. “Is that why Henry was talking about Boston-based pirates?” “Boston-based journalists,” Killian corrects. “No one’s quite sure where Black Bart was from originally, but he sailed in the north Atlantic quite often.” “You just made that name up.” “I promise, Swan. Black Bart Roberts was very much a real person who really kidnapped a Boston journalist, his name was Samuel Cary, by the way. And he told good old Sam his entire thrilling tale, got it published and the rest is pirate lore.”

Emma stares at him, not entirely sure which question to ask first. She’s admittedly distracted by how goddamn blue his eyes are. “Ok, ok, let me get this straight,” she mumbles. “So you lose, you figure you’re going to pay for a shit ton of hamburgers and--” “--French fries.” “The onion rings are better,” Emma says absentmindedly, and Killian’s eyebrows are their own sentient beings. That’s the only explanation. “And David...what, challenges you to show up like a pirate at Henry’s birthday party to pay off your debts?” “Have you ever been to debtors prison, Swan? Horrible places.” “Oh my God, be serious for two seconds.” “It’s a little difficult to do that with the whole costume on.” She scoffs, but it’s more of a laugh, and Killian smiles like he’s won a totally different bet. “But, yeah, that was basically the gist of it. Neither David nor Locksley thought I would do it. They didn’t even think I’d be here, to be honest, but I had a cancellation a couple days ago and I assumed doing something possibly nice was a hell of a lot more productive than wallowing in my lack of profit.” “Ah, well, you know what happens when you assume.” “Hence my apology.”

Emma nods, like she’s considering something, but it is kind of nice and she knows David didn’t tell her for fear of her reaction once she found out he and his friends were betting on her kid’s birthday party.

And he really just wanted to make Henry happen.

Captain Hook showing up at his birthday was a pretty good way of making sure he was.

“That’s not anything to apologize for,” Emma says eventually, and her voice doesn’t shake, but it’s still quiet and she can barely hear it over the sound of the waves nearby. “It’s unquestionably over the top, but it’s also kind of…” “Endearing?” “Don’t push your luck.”

He nods, hand in his hair again and they’ve, somehow, moved closer at some point, the front of Emma’s legs nearly brushing against his chest. And for one, vaguely insane, absolutely absurd moment, she imagines what it would be like to reach forward, grab the lapels of that rented jacket and kiss Killian Jones until he can’t breathe either.

So, naturally, she starts talking again.

“What kind of cruises are we talking here?” she asks. “Like...dinner? Sight-seeing? Whaling?” “Whaling is a tourist trap that allows businessmen to lie straight to other human’s faces because those same humans assume they’re going to see forty-two whales if they pay an exorbitant amount of money for it.” “Wow, you’ve got just a questionable amount of opinions on whales, don’t you?” “Well, we’ve already covered what happens when you assume, Swan,” Killian grins. “But mostly I just don’t enjoy having to explain why the previously mentioned, deep-pocketed tourists won’t get a refund if they don’t see the whales. So I avoid that entirely.” “And do what?”

“You’re very curious aren’t you?”

Emma shrugs, but it’s a deflection and she mostly just wants him to keep talking. They’re going to get fined for being in the park after dark. “Something like that,” she mutters. “And I think that’s part of the gig, too.” “I didn’t realize I was being interrogated.” “You’re not. But you did show up at an eight-year-old’s birthday party with a sword and a hook and that does beg a lot of questions about what kind of person would do that.” “An incredibly stubborn one,” Killian answers easily. “Who was the new kid once too. And one who also enjoys that kind of stunned expression Nolan looks when he gets caught off guard.” “The one where his eyes kind of bug out of his face.” Killian laughs, loud and easy and Emma would be willing to conduct several studies on his hair because it defies the laws of gravity. At least as she understands them. “That’s exactly it,” Killian says, laughter still clinging to his voice. “But to answer your question, we do harbor tours in the summer and some historical ones that are longer. The Boston ones cost several arms and legs, but those are my favorite.” “Why?” He startles at that, which is fair since Emma half shouts the question at him, but she’s as curious as advertised and probably just as stubborn as he is.

“I like being on the water,” Killian says softly, and it sounds a bit like an admission and a bit like an introduction. “And we usually don’t set sail until the afternoon on those ones. It’s uh...it’s beautiful on the coast.” “Sounds it,” Emma whispers. “Why do you know about the pirates though?” It takes him a moment to answer, as if he’s considering the words or the sentence structure and Emma tries not to let her impatience show on her face. She knows it doesn’t work as soon as she meets Killian’s gaze, the hint of a smirk on his mouth, and she shivers when the wind whips in off the water.

He stands up before she really registers that she’s cold, shrugging out of the jacket and Emma can’t even object before there’s heavy leather on her shoulders and the whole thing is so incredibly nice she briefly wonders if she’s stepped into a very lucid dream.

That, of course, is impossible.

If this were a dream she definitely would have kissed him by now.

“My brother,” Killian explains. “He was a much better storyteller than I am, and I also went through a very serious pirate phase when I was around Henry’s age. I think I could recite Peter Pan and Treasure Island verbatim for the first decade of my life.” “You must have had very advanced reading comprehension,” Emma mutters, which is not what she plans to say at all, but it works another laugh out of Killian and, honestly, that’s all she cared about.

“Oh, absolutely. Very advanced.”

“Yeah, I figured.”

She doesn’t ever ask him to help her finish cleaning up, but he doesn’t really offer either. They just fall into a rhythm next to each other, twisting and turning and smiling and Emma never actually takes the jacket off.

“Keep it,” Killian says as Emma tries to pull the leather off, and she might smile because it’s warm and comfortable and this whole day has been absolutely ridiculous. It only makes sense that she go home in a pirate coat. “I just need it back by next week.” “I think I can do that,” Emma promises, and he definitely smiles in response. “I’ve got no doubt, Swan.”

And, really, she did plan to bring it back.

She planned on it the next day and the one after that and every day for the next week after Henry’s party, but Storybrooke does, apparently, have some crime to deal with and Henry’s suddenly the most popular kid in school and he’s got houses to go to and places to be and he wants to sign up for some summer-league baseball that David volunteers to help coach.

And the jacket, quite honestly, slips her mind.

Until it’s next Saturday and Henry’s shout from the other room sends a chill down Emma’s spine.

She sprints down the hallway, skidding to a stop in her doorway to find her kid gaping at the jacket draped over the back of a chair like he’s discovered several different buried treasures at once.

“Damn,” Emma mumbles, drawing a quiet sound out of Henry. He nearly falls over when he spins, staring at her with a mix of accusation and pride and she squeezes her eyes closed.

She’s the most mature mother in the entire New England area.

“Mom, why do you have Hook’s coat?” Henry asks, and Emma grits her teeth. “Were you guys...hanging out?” Emma’s eyes snap open. “What?” “Nothing, nothing.” “Henry.” “Nothing.” She lifts an eyebrow and it takes, exactly, four seconds for her kid to wilt under the pressure of her gaze. “I just heard Aunt Ruby telling M’s that Hook was…” He trails off, and Emma tries not to sigh too dramatically, but that doesn’t work either, and Henry might actually be blushing. “Aunt Ruby said he was asking about you.” “Me?” Emma parrots, and this is not the kind of conversation she should be having with her kid. Or, like, anyone. Except maybe Killian. Who probably had to pay extra for the jacket.

Henry shrugs. Because he’s eight. And has no concept of flirting or costume rentals or anything that isn’t getting more cupcakes from Spoonful of Sugar on Misthaven Avenue, because, of course that was the name of the street. David finally told Emma three days ago.

“What do you say to a quick trip to the docks?” Emma asks, and it’s a stupid question because Henry’s eyes light up almost as soon as she opens her mouth. He nods and jumps up and down and he’s talking a mile a minute about pirates and the negative characteristics of Peter Pan when Emma parks the car on the gravel a few feet away from a boat she hopes is Killian’s.

He’s standing on the deck when she climbs out of the car, hair windswept and cheeks red and he looks eight-thousand times better in normal person clothes than he did in the pirate gear.

It is a testament ot Emma’s mental stability that she doesn’t laugh out loud at the idea of normal clothes.

“Hook,” Henry calls, and Killian’s whole body tenses. Emma bites her lip. “We brought your jacket so you can plunder again!”

Emma winces, momentarily worried about the absurdity of it all, but then she hears Killian’s laugh and footsteps on a gangplank and it takes a few near-painful moments for him to reach them. He’s smiling.

“Hey, lad,” Killian says, Henry standing up a bit straighter like he’s dealing with an actual pirate captain. Emma’s going to need stitches in her lip. “Swan,” he adds. “What are you doing here?”

“Returning your coat,” she answers. “For real. I’m...I can’t believe I forgot.” Killian hums, but it sounds cautious and his eyes keep darting towards Henry and the leather in Emma’s hands and he can’t seem to meet her gaze. “That’s alright,” he mutters. “Things happen. It’s...”

“Can we see your ship, Hook?” Henry asks, shoulders sagging when Emma glares at the interruption. “Sorry, Mom.”

“We just came here to give Killian his jacket,” Emma says. The words feel heavy on her tongue, though, and she doesn’t think she imagines the flash of disappointment on Killian’s face. “I’m sure he’s got plenty of things to do that don’t involve boat tours.” “Ship, Swan,” Killian mutters. “It’s a ship. And you know what happens when you assume, love.”

She widens her eyes at the endearment, almost too aware of the kid next to her, but said kid either doesn’t hear or absolutely does not care – particularly when there’s a ship in front of them and a man he may actually believe is a pirate.

“We don’t want to bother you,” Emma says. Killian beams. “Of course not. C’mon, Henry. We’ll let you take the helm, huh?”

Emma’s seen quite a bit of questionably adorable things in the few weeks since they first arrived in Storybrooke, but nothing has come even close to Killian teaching Henry port and starboard and some knot that looks absolutely impossible to her, but they’re both masters of in a few minutes. She doesn’t trip on deck, and Killian makes a quip about sea legs that shouldn’t be nearly as charming as it is, and Henry doesn’t stop smiling once.

“Thank you for this,” Emma says eventually, Henry back at the wheel and plotting a course to Isla de Muerta. “Does he also think you’re Jack Sparrow then?” Killian shakes his head. “Nah, we’re sticking with Captain Hook, but the appeal of cursed Aztec gold is too much to shake. You understand piracy. We live on a whim.” “We?” The tips of his ears go red. Emma might be counting the number of times she can get that to happen. She’s confident it’ll be several more times in the near future, but, before she gets there she pushes up on her toes and there’s only a t-shirt to grab and kissing a pirate is as good as all those stories make it seem.

Killian’s hand finds the small of Emma’s back almost immediately, pulling her flush against his chest and she makes some kind of noise against his mouth that might be a yelp or an actual giggle or just the audible sound of swooning, but she can feel him smiling.

She pushes her fingers into his hair, tugging him down towards her – as if he’d actually pull away when his hand seems intent on mapping every ridge of her spine – and the whole world feels like it spins on its axis.

Emma has never been a particularly spontaneous person.

She thinks. She plans. She plots.

But then this job opened up and Storybrooke happened and Killian Jones showed up at her kid’s birthday party dressed as a pirate just because he wanted to make sure a stranger was happy and Emma can’t seem to get him out of her head.

So, maybe, some spontenaity is worth it.

And living like a pirate is kind of fun.

Killian’s tongue moves across her lower lip, Emma tilting her head and they’re probably scaring Henry for life, but there’s sunshine and wind and she’s so goddamn happy it kind of feels like a sugar-rush and eating twenty-seven cupcakes.

It’s better than that, really, but Emma’s far too busy making out to be worried about the proper metaphor.

“I’m sorry about the jacket,” she mumbles, mostly against Killian’s lips and if she never moves her hands out of his hair, she won't argue. She’s not sure he will either.

“If this is it how it works when we steal clothing together, Swan, I’m perfectly fine with it.” “God, what a line. And did you say we? Were we stealing clothing together?” Killian nods, brushing his lips over Emma’s before he answers. “I knew you had the jacket, Swan. I didn’t really do anything about getting it back.” “Henry said you asked Rubes about me.” “He’s a very chatty kid.” “Definitely,” Emma agrees. “You could have. I mean...you know where the Sheriff’s office is, don’t you?”

He leans back, an eyebrow arched and that smrik should be illegal in several different countries and the entire state of Maine and it’s probably against the rules of the pirate’s code or something. Parlay or whatever.

Emma hasn’t seen Pirates of the Caribbean in a very long time. “What are you suggesting, love?” Killian asks knowingly, and she scowls despite how ridiculously charming the whole thing is. “Putting me in the brig?”

She groans, but she can’t lean back when there’s still a palm flat on her back and Killian smiling at her and Henry shouting something about hurricane off the port bow. “Hey, uh, you,” Emma starts, and maybe she’ll get better at this pirate lifestyle once she practices some more. “You know Henry really loves hanging out with Rubes and Dorothy because they feed his sugar habit and, uh, they’ve got some standing date this Sunday for a taste-testing and I’ve never really been on a ship in motion and…”

She trails off before she can embarass herself even more, but Killian barely gives her a moment to linger on it, ducking his head and kissing her. “It’d be an honor, Swan.”

They don’t ever return the jacket – leaving it on the ship for reasons that are both piratical and sentimental and Henry learns more sailor’s knots and more technical terms and Emma doesn’t actually crash the ship when she musters the courage to take the helm on a three-person cruise to Boston a few months later.

And, eventually, they get back on the ship and Emma can point out constellations now and she’s just on the cusp of falling asleep, her head resting on Killian’s shoulder when he mumbles something about buried treasure and jewels and he barely gets the question out before she shouts yes in his face and Henry sends photos to the small family they’ve built in Storybrooke.

They celebrate with cupcakes.

#cs ff #captain swan #captain swan ff #cs #cs fic #HAPPY BIRTHDAY KATIE #i unfortunately cannot send an actual man dressed like a pirate to you #so here is some kissing instead