#is this guy trying to bum a cigarette or is he asking for money or what?

[everett-true-daily]

#hey does anyone know what he means here by the makin's #I tried researching it and couldn't find anything #is this guy trying to bum a cigarette or is he asking for money or what? #I hope it's something like the former and not the latter #if it's something like the latter then this is another one that did not age well #although it seems more likely it's something more like the former #considering Everett reacts like it's an insult to ask him that #everett true #image description in alt text #newspaper comics #the outbursts of everett true #transcribed #vintage comics #a.d. condo

[binkszamsstuff]

Prize money

Mob/casino owner Bucky x server innocent reader

Warnings:kissing, stalking, creepy men, groping, unwanted sexual contact, minor character death, mob violence, let me know if I missed anything! 🩵 kinda safe for work? No smut

The smoke filled air with people’s slurred yells from the table games were what occupied most of the young girls nights. The 20 year old server walked up and down what felt like endless isles of slot machines, yelling over the shouts of frustration, music and much more.

“Snacks, beverages, cigarettes, anyone?” she yelled walking down an aisle.

“Yeah hey!” A man sitting at one of the many machines called her over.

“Hi sir what can I get for you?” The server asked him. The girl knew him, he frequently was seen in the Cash Pit casino.

Just as she was pulling out her notepad the man groped her bum.

“Nice outfit sweetheart”

“You need to get your hands off of me sir,” the server said sternly. Trying to mask her fear.

“What!” the man reached out to pull her closer by her waist “Common I’m a nice guy”

“I will not be serving you” Ripping herself from his grip the young woman walked straight to Sam one of the security guards.

“Sam” she weakly spoke

“Hey, I gotcha,” he said bringing her into him with one arm wrapped around her shoulder. His other reaching into his jacket pocket to pull out his walkie-takie raising it to his lips he spoke into it. “Steve I need you in section five ASAP bring Barnes with ya too. Natasha pull up the tapes in section five around three minutes ago and look for y/n. Once you find the clip write a report and put the fucker on the banned list”

“What am I looking for?” Natasha another security guard spoke back through the line.

“You’ll know when you see it.” was all Sam said. y/n had been working for the cash pit casino since she turned 18, now 20. She didn’t like the crime or the sin-filled place but she needed money, after leaving her mother's house due to the dysfunction and her mother always putting her cheating boyfriend over her own children y/n fled. She looked for jobs that didn’t require her to wear slutty uniforms (like the cash pit casino) but nothing paid like the job she had now.

The casino was run by an undercover mob boss James Barnes, James’ father started the family-owned casino but once it was passed down to James he added…a little side business. The casino was the perfect cover-up, before James established his power he would watch the city's gangs pimp his father for so-called protection. James promised himself he would never let people tell him what to do with his fucking money like his father did because his father didn't believe in breaking a few laws. James’ father was murdered when the casino was being robbed by the gang Hydra. That was 15 years ago and James is still in a war against them.

James was a cruel man. He was a womanizer, he never was satiated with one woman his endless cash flow brought in many women that he loved to play with…that was until his doe-eyed cotton tailed bunny came hopping through his casino doors in need of a job. At first, James just thought his obsession would go away, no woman could hold his attention for long. But she did, yet he knew the kind of world he lived in. It was no place for an innocent little bunny like her, he knew it was better to protect her from a distance. And so protecting her from a distance meant loving her from too. James never let anything happen to his servers, dancers, or any woman who worked for him, especially be unsafe in his building. But when it came down to his bunny, his girl, his love, and his obsession, he ordered she never be out of any of his men's sight. He made his men follow her everywhere, he even had a tracking device under her car. He would burn the world down for the one girl who made him soft.

James tried to be friendly to all his employees at his casino, talk to them, and make a legitimate workplace so no one would be suspicious. James lived for his short conversations with y/n, her giggles and shy smile made him want to kiss her all over her face. So when Steve his right-hand man threw open his office door with enough force to make it smack against the wall James was immediately pissed.

“Hey! What the fuck was that for!” James yelled at his best friend.

“It's y/n come upstairs.” James flew out of his chair grabbing his gun from under his desk top he and Steve started to walk to the main floor. No questions were asked when it came to girl.

“What the fuck happened” he asked.

“I don't know, sam said something happened with y/n and that we needed to get up there fast”

“Fuck! I swear to god if she’s hurt!”

When James and Steve made it upstairs his eyes searched for Sam and y/n. Sam had pulled y/n into the private smoke lounge that was empty.

“I feel so gross” y/n cried into sams shoulder

When Steve pointed at Sam and y/n James made a b line straight to her.

“What happened?!” he asked as he and Steve stepped through the curtain, Steve closing it once both were in the lounge.

James sat on the couch next to Y/n, pulling her into his arms his eyes softened.

“I-I was in my section asking if anyone needed anything and some guy asked me to come over s-so I did and he grabbed my bum and wouldn’t listen to me when I told him to stop”

“Steve go get him out of my casino” James ordered then his voice turned soft “Bunny baby look at me. It's okay now I'm here” he rocked her slightly in his arms, sam got up to step out to give y/n and James some privacy.

“There's my girl” he cooed at her when her eyes met his “You’re safe, he won't ever touch you again, no one will for that matter”

“Thank you, Mr. Barnes” she whispered to him, their eyes locked in on each other until he slid down to her lips. Her breathing got more shallow as James moved his left hand to the back of her neck. He pulled her closer onto his lap, his lips met her softer ones. The kiss was otherworldly, she had never being kissed like that before. Yet as soon as it happened it was over, the cold look in his eyes reappeared. James was hungry for his little bunny, but importantly he was scared. He was scared because he wanted her yet keeping her at a distance protects her from his mafia world but it doesn't protect her from everyone else’s . He had to make a choice, either let her go forever because of his ruthless world, or bring her with him, risk the danger but protect her better than any other man could.

James picked her up “Wh-what are you doing?” she asked confused

“I’m taking you home” When James said that she immediately thought of her home.

Walking through the back of the casino so no eyes could pray, once outside he continued to his newest black Audi. Putting her in the passenger seat, leaning down to buckle her up. y/n sucked in a breath, being so close to him had her reeling to reality. His cologne smelled so good, her in his arms made her almost forget that he was her boss. She had always thought he was handsome a not-so-small crush on him, she was especially flustered after their kiss. Just as he was finished buckling her up his cold blue eyes met her for an intense moment before he closed the door and walked around the front of the car. Opening his door and buckling himself, he started to pull out of the parking lot that was located behind the casino which was only for employees. James made his choice.

The drive was awkward for y/n she was shaken up by the creepy man and confused because her boss had kissed her but was now acting so cold. So caught up in her thoughts she didn't realize that he wasn't driving her to her home but to his. Only when the car pulled into a private driveway did she become aware.

“This isn't my house?” she hesitated to say.

“I know it's mine” he replied shortly. “Im confused, why are we at your house?”

James parked his car he turned to look at her, his eyes besotted on her, they would never leave her. James knew his eyes would never look at someone like they do for her, that he would look for her in every room for the rest of his life even though he could be miles away. He would never twant another person, she was his love, lamb, bunny, life, and soul, his future and he would die without her.

“y/n look at me. I want you to know now that after tonight I can't hind. I can't hide my feelings for you, I love you more than I could ever express with my words so please ju-just stay with me. Come inside, come home. I’ll love you for the rest of my life with or without you, but please doll be with me” he begged, pleaded, his eyes hoping with everything in him.

y/n stared at him, her breath gone. She couldn't believe he would ever want her. Yet her heart felt the same as his did, she longed for him, to see his rare smiles more frequent. She wanted to know him, to learn, to crave him, and never be able to live without him.

“Bunny, baby you’re killin’ me, say somethin’ let me be yours” he took her hands in his

“I love you James” she whispered before she let go of his hands and reached for the sides of his face. Pulling him in for a kiss, this one even more passionate, full of words now spoken, this kiss longer. Coming up for air from her magic James smiled against her lips chuckling.

“I love you y/n,” James said before getting out of the car, once on her side of the car he opened up the door holding her hand in his, he brought her hand up to his lips kissing it. y/n blushing while they walked into his their home.

The night was spent eating takeout in PJs (James' shirt and sweatpants that were hilariously too big for her) cuddling, kissing, playing, giggling, and learning about the love they would share for the rest of their lives.

The end

I had this song of repeat while I made this because it gives off shy but scary but sweet Bucky to me

#bucky barnes #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes oneshots #marvel #james bucky barnes #soft dark fic #soft!dark!bucky #dark!bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes #yandere bucky barnes

[nightttdreamers]

Night Shift | Craig x Kenny

first chapter of my new crenny fic! yeah its a fake dating AU but it’s going to be super fun and just the right amount of cheesy. very excited to share!

AO3 Link | 4k words | Chapter 1/? | Chapter 2

“Hey, McCormick,” Craig says. “You’ll do anything for a buck, right?”

Kenny cocks his head at the question. “What? I mean, it depends. But, kinda, yeah.”

Craig takes a deep breath before he asks, “You wanna be my boyfriend?”

Craig switched to the night shift.

It wasn’t hard, because no one wants the night shift at a 24 hour convenience store. When his manager, a greasy twenty-six year-old, asked him why, Craig just said he wanted time after school for extracurriculars. It was the same excuse he told his parents, who, instead of wondering why their son wanted to work from 9:00PM to 2:00AM, just said, “You do extracurriculars?”

Tolkien, Clyde, and Jimmy didn’t believe that excuse however, so he told them that he’d be making more money instead, which seemed to work.

Thankfully, nobody asked further than that.

It’s not too bad. Craig hates customers and he sees them way less than he did when he was working after school. He just sits behind the counter, plays games on his phone, does the occasional bit of homework, and tries not to think. Recently, he’s been testing the limits of the security cameras, trying to figure out blind spots. Not because he cares if people steal, of course, he couldn’t give less of a fuck. It’s just something to keep him occupied until the five hours run out.

He’s been on the night shift for over two weeks now, and he’s gotten used to the routine. He knows the students that come in after football games before they head off to their parties he’s not invited to. He knows which truck drivers will let him bum a cigarette from the packs they buy. And he knows that after midnight the store is completely dead.

Except this particular night, apparently. At one in the morning, the door opens. Craig looks up from his phone, first seeing a flash of blonde hair that makes his heart sink. But, then the blonde turns around and Craig has to hide the relief on his face.

“Craig Tucker?”

Kenny says his name with a strange familiarity, like he’s reuniting with an old friend instead of a classmate he barely speaks to. He’s not wearing that stupid traffic cone-colored parka he always has on, but instead a beat-up denim jacket, which is why Craig almost had him mistaken at first. 

“Yeah?” Craig responds, raising his brows. The last thing he wants to do right now is talk to anyone from school. At least it's Kenny and not any of his idiot friends. Craig classifies Kenny as a low-level dumbass, somewhat harmless, while Stan and the others are Certified Douchebags.

“When did you start working here?” Kenny asks, stepping up to the counter.

Fuck, he wants a conversation. “I don’t know, a while ago,” Craig replies.

“But where’s the usual night shift guy? Are you covering for him?” Kenny leans over the counter a bit while he speaks, which is a little too close for comfort. Craig avoids his eyes, instead looking down at what appears to be a spot of dried blood on his white t-shirt.

“Are you bleeding?” He asks.

“Probably. Did you trade shifts with the other guy? Me and him were just starting to become pals, you know?” Kenny’s bright eyes are bouncing around everywhere as he leans back again, glancing over candy bars and cigarette cartons and five-hour energy drinks on the counter. His general enthusiasm is making Craig feel more exhausted. He wonders if the blonde is on something. He’s heard some shit about what Kenny does when he’s missing school.

“I switched shifts like two weeks ago,” Craig replies, still looking at the blood stain, which actually looks a bit fresh in the light.

“Uh-huh, got it,” Kenny nods, finally leaving the counter to look through the aisles. Craig lets out a sigh, picking up his phone again to return to his game. After a minute or so, Kenny pipes up from the chip aisle. “Hey, didn’t you and Tweek break up two weeks ago?”

Craig grips his phone, looking up at Kenny who seems to be really interested in a bag of chips right now. “Why do you care?” It’s a genuine question, but Craig still tries to sound nonchalant when he asks it.

“‘Cause gossip is fun? I dunno,” the other responds flippantly, moving on to a bag of pretzels instead. He’s turned away now, moving further down the aisle, unaware that Craig is staring daggers at him. “I heard he dumped you in the parking lot and you got so mad you smashed a car window, then got in-school-suspension for two days.”

Craig slams his phone down on the counter, but Kenny doesn’t even flinch, simply turning back to him with an innocent expression.

“What?” The other asks. “Bebe told me that she saw the whole thing.”

“She-” Craig begins, nearly raising his voice. He cuts himself off, however, gritting his teeth for a moment. “Bebe is a fucking liar.”

Kenny seems to think about this accusation before responding. “Yeah, I didn’t really believe her,” he says, then ducks into another aisle. With Kenny out of sight, Craig deflates, running a hand through his hair. He’s no stranger to gossip in South Park, in fact he might be a veteran, but it’s been a while since someone regurgitated some bullshit they heard to his face. He can’t even be too mad, considering he’s talked plenty about every other breakup in their school- Stan and Wendy, Tolkien and Wendy, Tolkien and Nichole, Nichole and Kyle, in their small school, other people’s drama is prime entertainment.

The part of it that pisses him off isn’t that people are spreading rumors about the breakup. It’s the fact that, across every untrue story, people still know that it was Tweek who dumped Craig .

Kenny drops a 6-pack of beer on the counter and Craig is so preoccupied with his thoughts that he nearly rings it up before realizing what the item is. “Is this a joke?” Craig asks, looking back up at Kenny.

“Is what a joke?” The other asks, idly picking at his lower lip with his thumb. He pulls back the skin slightly, flashing a missing tooth, though it doesn’t look like he’s even aware of what he’s doing.

“Do you seriously think I’m going to let you buy this?” He says flatly. Kenny gives him a confused look, like he sincerely doesn’t know why Craig won’t check him out. “You’re not 21 McCormick, fuck off.”

“Are you sure about that?” Kenny asks, shuffling around in his pocket before pulling out a wad of cards and cash, held together by a rubber band. He slides a card out and places it on the counter, right in front of Craig.

It’s just about the worst fake ID he’s ever seen. It’s from Wyoming, the man in the picture barely resembles Kenny except for the blonde hair, and the text is chipping in certain places. Craig picks it up, bending the card just to see how flimsy it is.

Kenny is leaning on the counter again, wearing that stupid grin he always seems to sport as he watches Craig. “So, you’re twenty-seven,” Craig deadpans.

“Yes, sir,” Kenny chirps, eyeing the nicotine products. “And a pack of camels too,” he says, then adds, “Please.”

Craig sighs, putting the ID back on the counter. “I’m not selling you anything, McCormick.”

Kenny’s smile falters, though he tries to keep it up as his hand moves from his mouth to the back of his neck, anxiously rubbing it. “Come on, man. The other night guy always took my ID. You can ask him, too. He never even got in trouble for it.” Craig simply stares at him, eyes narrow. His shift ends in less than an hour, he just wants to go home and ignore everyone, not deal with an idiot like Kenny. “Craig,” Kenny says, almost whining . “Do me a solid, I’m not even gonna drink it. It’s for my dad and he’ll get pissed, okay?”

It’s not like Craig really cares about Kenny enough to look into his personal life, but it’s impossible not to know that he doesn’t have it easy at home. And maybe it’s because he’s sleep deprived, or he just wants Kenny to leave already, but Craig grabs the Camels. “Whatever.”

Kenny grins now, somehow even wider than before, as he drums his fingers on the counter. “I knew you were a good guy. You know, everyone thinks you’re an asshole, but I knew you weren’t.”

Craig scans each item, trying to convince himself that this isn’t a terrible idea. “I am an asshole,” he says. “And that’s $17.02”

Once again, Kenny flips through his rubber-band wad and pulls out a twenty. Instead of just handing it over, he places it on the counter, then slowly slides it to Craig. “Keep the change.”

Craig, unamused, takes the bill, glancing up at Kenny. “Really?”

“Hell no,” Kenny says with a laugh, grabbing his change once Craig puts it on the counter. He pauses, then leaves three dimes on the table. “There, you can keep that change.”

“I’ll try not to spend it all in one place,” he says, turning back to the cash register. Kenny picks up his items, but lingers by the counter, and Craig can feel his blue eyes on him. “What? Do you want a receipt or something?”

“So it’s true, then?” Kenny asks. Then, when Craig gives him a confused look, he says, “You and Tweek broke up?”

“Do you really want to push your luck with me right now, McCormick?” Craig asks, hopefully in a threatening enough voice that Kenny gets the message.

Instead, the blonde just laughs like this is some inside joke between the two of them and heads out the door, throwing a wave back at Craig as he exits.

In the wake of Kenny McCormick, the store feels almost eerily quiet, rather than the peaceful stillness that it was before. Still, Craig exhales, grateful that the entire interaction is over. He returns to his mindless phone game and tries not to think about Tweek or Kenny or even stupid Bebe spreading rumors about him.

School had been more annoying than usual. He and Tweek entered their senior year together, how was Craig supposed to know they wouldn’t finish it like that? Their schedules overlapped for three periods: History, calculus, and lunch. In class, he and Tweek always sat next to each other, so it wasn’t too difficult to just sit in the back instead, though some people were pissed that their unofficial seating chart had been messed with after three months of peace. He’d sit with the goths or the ugly kids and ignore the twitchy blonde across the room, constantly pretending that he wasn’t just staring when Tweek would catch his wayward glances.

Lunch, however, was more difficult. In the first few days, he avoided the cafeteria entirely, opting to eat alone in his car instead. Sure, if someone saw him it would be social suicide, but that would be better than sitting with his ex-boyfriend. By the end of the first week, Clyde had called him on the verge of tears, begging his best friend to come back and sit with them. Apparently, Tweek had started eating lunch in the art room instead, something that he told Clyde that he had texted Craig. What neither of them knew, however, was that Craig had blocked Tweek’s number the day they broke up.

So, he went back to eating lunch with his friends. Tolkien and Clyde sitting across from him, and Jimmy on his side, leaving an odd space as if Tweek is going to come and sit between them like he usually does. There’s a certain stiffness at the table that certainly wasn’t there before, and Craig understands that it’s probably his fault. He’s caused a few awkward moments when they’ve tried to ask about Tweek by quickly dropping the subject or just ignoring it entirely. Even their attempts to talk to him about anything at all are unsuccessful, as Craig is much more interested in staring silently at his food while he counts the minutes until lunch is over.

Today, he once again brings an uncomfortable energy to the lunch table. However, instead of fixating on his shitty meal, he’s looking right at Clyde. He didn’t want to linger on the rumor Kenny had told him the other night, but he couldn’t help it. Did Clyde tell Bebe about what happened and she decided to make up a more interesting story? Or did Bebe tell him what she “saw” and Clyde simply believed her? 

“What’s up, Craig?” Clyde asks, knitting his brows together. The two have made eye contact a few times over the last few minutes, but this is the first time Clyde hasn’t immediately looked away. The others at the table turn their attention to the two, feeling the tension.

“Clyde, when you and Bebe go out, do you guys just sit around and talk about my love life?” Craig asks. It comes out a bit harsher than he intends, but he’s always been one to be straightforward.

Clyde just gives him a confused look, then Craig watches the subsequent realization and fear come across his face. “What?”

“I heard a really interesting story from your girlfriend about how I got dumped, then broke a car window and got ISS,” Craig replies. “So I just wanted to know, do you guys sit and talk about my love life all the time, or just sometimes?”

“Wait, I thought t-t-that you tried to set f-fire to the car?” Jimmy says, which earns him a death glare from Craig.

“Don’t be mad,” Clyde whines, giving his friend a nervous smile. “It was just a rumor, I didn’t even believe her when she told me! I actually walked past the ISS room just to look for you.”

“So you do sit around and lie about my personal life,” Craig says, narrowing his eyes at Clyde. He then turns to Jimmy. “And you too? Tolkien, do you have any stories about my life I haven’t heard yet?” 

Tolkien, not as easily goaded into drama as Clyde, just shrugs. “Everyone was talking about it, man.”

Craig exhales, pinching the bridge of his nose. “And none of you just asked me?”

“We tried!” Clyde exclaims, earning a few hums of agreement from the rest of the group. 

“You didn’t really want to talk about it when we asked,” Tolkien adds.

Craig presses his lips together in a firm line. He can’t really argue with that. In the days after the break up, he didn’t have in-school suspension, he just faked a cold and stayed home, giving him plenty of time to just think about all of the things that would be different now. Besides the obvious, giant void in his life that Tweek left behind, there was also the issue of their mutual friends, which neither of them would want to lose. Craig knew that Tweek had forfeited lunch, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t in contact with their friends at all. The last thing Craig wanted was to make anyone choose sides.

To him, it felt like it would be in everyone’s best interest if he just left his friends out of it.

“Well, none of that stuff is true,” Craig mumbles, pushing the food on his tray around with his fork.

“So you d-didn’t set a car on fire?” Jimmy asks, scooting a bit closer to Craig.

“Or break the window?” Clyde adds.

“No,” Craig says flatly, rolling his eyes.

“And you didn’t get ISS?” Tolkien asks.

“No.”

“And Tweek didn’t break up with you?” Clyde asks, almost sounding hopeful.

Craig grips his fork tightly, staring down at the table. He pushes the tray of food away from himself, looking back up at three sets of curious eyes. “That’s- Yeah, he did.”

“Really? Like, he dumped you ?” Clyde doesn’t even try to hide the disbelief in his voice. Tolkien elbows him in the side at the comment, shooting Clyde a glare before turning to Craig with a sympathetic look.

“That sucks, man. I’m sorry,” he says, and Craig wants to crawl into his hoodie and never be seen again.

“It’s whatever,” Craig says, once again looking back down at the table. “I just don’t get why everyone thinks that I’m the one who got dumped.” 

The rest of the boys exchange glances, and Craig hates the silent debate they seem to be having over his head. “C-c-can I be honest with you for a second, p-pal?” Jimmy finally says, reaching up to put a hand on Craig’s shoulder.

“Go ahead,” Craig replies.

“In a b-b-breakup, there’s usually a winner, a-and a loser,” he begins, and Craig has a bad feeling that he knows where this is going. “Usually, the p-person who dumps the other is the w-w-winner.”

“What makes you guys think I’m not the winner?” Craig asks, looking between his friends. Once again, no one seems to want to answer.

“W-well, Craig, you k-k-kind of look like shit,” Jimmy finally says.

Craig scoots back from him, rolling the other’s hand off his shoulder. “Fuck off, Jimmy.” 

“He’s only saying that because we’re worried about you,” Tolkien says. “You barely talk to anyone, you always have your headphones in, plus now that you have the stupid night shift, basically no one has seen you outside of school.”

“We’re totally here for you, dude,” Clyde says, nodding in agreement. “Breakups are so hard, especially for the loser.”

“Thanks, Clyde,” Craig says flatly, moving to pick up his backpack.

Clyde winces at the remark. “I didn’t mean it like that. Don’t leave, man, you can talk to us!”

Craig stands, sliding his backpack over his shoulders. There’s still twenty minutes left in the period, but if he sits there any longer he might just explode. 

“W-w-we don’t think of you like that, C-Craig,” Jimmy adds, and Craig knows that he’s being sincere. If his friends think he’s handling the breakup badly, that’s okay with him. What’s not okay is that, apparently, Tweek is walking around doing just fine without him.

“It’s fine, I don’t care,” Craig says, picking up his tray. “You can all think what you want, okay? I’m fine. I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

He can hear his friends calling his name, but Craig is already walking away from the table, trying not to be so aware of everyone’s eyes on him as he storms out of the lunchroom.

As he walks away from the table, he can hear his friends call his name, but it’s too late. Craig spends the rest of lunch alone under the bleachers, smoking a cigarette while his headphones blast Radiohead, acutely aware that he really does look like a loser.

Days later, he’s still thinking about it. Craig stands in the snack aisle, restocking the instant noodles, while it repeats like a mantra in his head; Tweek won, you lost.

It’s now been almost three weeks since the breakup. Three weeks of staring at the other’s blocked contact in his phone, deleting shared playlists, and aimlessly scrolling through old photos like he’ll find something he missed before, something that explains why . When they had their last conversation, Tweek had said “I think we both knew this was going to happen,” and all Craig could say in response was “What are you talking about?”

He looks down at the cup noodles in his hand. Suddenly, just lifting his arm to put it on the shelf feels like the hardest task in the world.

“I really don’t think that’s the best flavor choice,” pipes up a voice from beside him, and Craig jolts upright, turning to the stranger.

Kenny is standing at the end of the aisle in his dirty orange parka, hands shoved in his pocket, wearing the shit-eating grin he always has on.

“When did you get here?” Craig asks, letting his shoulders relax as he returns to his restock. He keeps his face down, hoping that Kenny didn’t see his momentary existential crisis just then.

“Like, a minute ago. Did you not hear the bell when I came in?” Kenny steps closer, peering over Craig’s shoulder at the products. “I guess not, you seemed pretty into these noodles. But, I gotta say, I think shrimp’s the worst flavor. Not that I know what real shrimp would taste like, but the cup noodle flavor is just too fake.”

Craig’s barely listening, trying to finish quickly. He just wants to go back behind the counter where he’s safe because Kenny is way too close to him right now. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he says, turning to walk away from the other.

Kenny, however, follows right behind him. “Have you ever made ramen chips? You just put the seasoning in the bag then you crush the ramen up and eat it like that. Like, no need for hot water or anything. My brother and I used to make it all the time. It’s just like chips, it’s pretty good.”

“Mhm,” he hums. Luckily, Kenny isn’t facing him, or he’d see the grimace on Craig’s face right now. The dark-haired boy steps behind the counter, finally separating himself from Kenny, dropping the empty ramen box on the floor beside him. 

“What did you think of the chem quiz today?” Kenny asks, flipping through the magazine rack.

The question catches him off-guard, and it takes Craig a second to realize that, oh yeah , Kenny is in his chemistry class. The blonde usually hides himself away in the back corner if he even attends class at all. “It was fine, I guess.”

Kenny nods. “Yeah, I think all this gas stuff has been tripping me up. I pretty much bullshitted the last page, but I think Mrs. Dawson wants to fuck me so I’ll probably be okay. I swear, every time she goes to help Kevin Stoley with a problem, she bends over right in front of me so I can see her ass. Like, it’s totally on purpose.”

“Are you here to buy something or just talk about random shit?” Craig asks. 

Kenny doesn't respond at first, and Craig can see the way his smile falters, how he stops flipping through the magazines for a second. When he looks up, his expression is sheepish, and Craig feels like an asshole.

“Sorry,” Kenny finally says. “I’m rambling, right? I’m kinda high, the guys always get annoyed at how much I talk when I smoke.”

He’s never been great at reading people, but it’s pretty obvious he just hit one of Kenny’s nerves. Before he can really think about it, he finds himself saying, “No, I’m sorry.” Both boys look surprised at the apology, and Craig figures he’d better explain himself. “You’re fine, I’m just tired and it’s been a shit day.”

Kenny’s expression softens, and Craig feels a bit lighter. “It’s okay,” he says. “I can’t blame you, dude. I guess you heard about Tweek, huh?”

The air in the room stills for a second as the two exchange a panicked glance.

“Shit, I shouldn’t have-” Kenny starts.

“What about Tweek?” Craig cuts him off, but Kenny keeps talking.

“I’m high, I’m rambling, just forget about it. Fuck.”

“Kenny,” Craig says, watching as the other mutters to himself, shaking his head. “Kenny!” He repeats, louder this time.

“It’s nothing,” Kenny says, but the high pitch of his voice tells Craig it’s definitely not nothing. “It’s a rumor, total bullshit.”

Craig sighs, knowing he probably shouldn’t ask. But he already lies awake at night thinking about what Tweek’s doing without him, he might as well lie awake knowing what his ex is up to. “Just tell me.”

Kenny gnaws on his lip for a second, nervously picking at the hem of his jacket before he speaks. “Don’t shoot the messenger, okay? But there was this thing at the skate park a few days ago and I heard that Tweek showed up with Pete Thelman.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Craig exclaims, causing Kenny to flinch.

“I said don’t shoot the messenger!” Kenny says, raising his hands defensively. “All I heard was that they were there together, it’s literally nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

Craig barely hears the other, already feeling a pit in his chest starting to form. He wants to bash his head against the counter or trash the entire convenience store. But, he also wants to curl up on the floor and never be seen again. While he’s wasting away every day in the back of his classes, or locked in his room, or working the worst job at a near-empty store, Tweek is okay. Of course everyone knows he got dumped, apparently his ex is already moving on.

“Craig, are you good?” Kenny asks, leaning over the counter a bit. “Should I like, call someone?”

For the last few weeks, Craig has felt like there was a hole inside him, slowly growing to consume every part of his life. But, right now, something feels different. Even if it is a bullshit rumor, hearing about Tweek like this is sparking something in him.

He’s fucking pissed.

“Hey, McCormick,” Craig says. “You’ll do anything for a buck, right?”

Kenny cocks his head at the question. “What? I mean, it depends. But, kinda, yeah.”

Craig takes a deep breath before he asks, “You wanna be my boyfriend?”

#south park #fanfiction #crenny #Craig Tucker #kenny mccormick #craig tucker x kenny mccormick #fic #fake dating #im so excited for this fic hehehehe

[pennylaneblue]

Chapter 1. The Rainbow

"We have been waiting for too long, you know..."

The lights of the city were brimming, looking like tiny stars as they both loomed over them at the lookout.

Zephyr took a drag of her cigarette, the tip of it barely hanging on as she stuttered "Plus it's fucking cold man... how much longer do we need to wait?"

She didn't even turn to look at her friend. It was fucking cold, but Zephyr had been complaining non stop for the past 15 minutes. "He said he will be here soon" was her stern response. "It's only been a couple of minutes. You need to chill."

Zephyr stood up from her improvised rock chair. "I should have brought a coat"

"Yeah you should have".

"Well I thought that by now we would be getting smashed at the Rainbow '' she said glaring at her as she rubbed the top of her legs, barely covered by her shimmering pantyhouse. "It's always the same with Anthony, if he couldn't pick us up he should have just said so''.

As soon as she mentioned his name, almost as if she were invoking him, the two girls saw a pair of headlights speeding up the dark hill. Loud music blasting through the broken speakers. The red car drove up to their spot, and a dirty blonde haired man got out. He was wearing a ridiculous hat.

"Ladies" he said with a smirk.

"You're late" The black-haired girl said, rushing to get into the backseat.

"Only by a little" he dismissed Zephyr with his hand. And then he turned to look other girl. "So Jenn, what do you think?" He raised his eyebrows as if signaling the hat on his head.

"I should give Slash a call and tell him you stole his hat" she teased him slightly, also walking towards the car and opening the passenger door.

"As if he wants anything to do with you after the incident at the Riot house last year" he said getting back into the driver seat. "And I'll have you know that Slash's top hat it's a Homburg, and this beauty here is called a Stovepipe.. it's a common mistake".

He backed the car into the curve, the low bass of the random rap song still wreaking havoc on the speakers. Jennifer glared at him as she turned the volume down, "I can't hear shit in here" she muttered.

"Sorry mom" Anthony rolled his eyes as he sped down the Hollywood hill, his long hair flowing with the wind. "So how did you two end up here, huh?" and then he added "Maybe I should start charging you for gas money..."

"Maybe we should charge you for rent for all of those years you were bumming out on our couch." Zephyr said, sticking her head between the front seats. "Plus is noneya"

"Noneya?"

"None of your damn business" she stuck out her tongue.

Jennifer smiled as she remembered the unremarkable story of how they got stranded in the hills after their weed contact fell through. But she knew Zephyr wanted to play it up a bit to get his nosey ass upset. "You would kill us if you knew," she added, pretending to be concerned.

"Nah I ain't falling for it, you idiots are messing with me again. You probably just got kicked out of some random's mansion after Zephyr stole their coke"

"That's oddly specific... are you speaking from past experience Ant?" Zephyr leaned back into her seat, and rolled down the window as she lid up another cigarette. They were now entering the city, the lights now looming over them.

Anthony ignored her, he glanced towards his right side. "So Jenn, have you talked to Blackbyrd lately? I have been getting some concerning calls, something about burning down my house" He was trying to laugh it off "Was hoping you could put in a good word for me, pretty please?"

"I don't know dude... I heard he was pretty pissed after you guys let him go" Jennifer added while she touched up her makeup in the mirror. "I haven't really seen him since last year, and wasn't planning on it actually..." He looked a bit concerned, so she gave him a friendly smile and added "But I'll ask Debbie to get him to chill.. you shouldn't worry too much".

"Nah I aint worried" He said trying to look nonchalant "I have better things to worry about."

"What about that new guitarist DH brought? What's his name again?" Zephyr asked, and she looked as if she were already drunk, laying down on the back seat and smoking her cigarette.

But Anthony didn't get to answer as at that moment they almost ran into a garbage truck. Anthony hit the brakes so quick and strong that Zephyr was thrown into the air, and Jennifer felt her friend's head slamming against the back of her seat. "Fuck" she exclaimed massaging her forehead "I almost swallowed this shit". She threw the crushed cigarette into the car's ashtray.

"Should have worn a seat bell" Jennifer smirked at her.

"Man, Anthony is right, you really are acting like a mom lately, did you have a secret kid or something while you went away?" She spat back, Jennifer just rolled her eyes at her.

In the meantime Anthony was trying to appease a very angry Chinese old lady, who came up to his window. Apparently he had run over her sidewalk sign in front of her antique's shop, when trying to avoid death with the truck. She didn't speak English very well and Anthony had resorted to giving her all the spare cash he had in his wallet. "I'm so sorry ma'am, that truck came out of nowhere."

Jennifer glanced outside, she could spot the Rainbow's colorful sign only a block away. "I'm gonna head out, you coming?" She asked Zephyr who nodded enthusiastically "Ant, I'm sure you can figure this out right?" She smiled playfully at his frustration.

"Fine, get out, leave me if you want" he was being dramatic. "Tell Flea I'll be a little late, I'm sure you can explain."

"Will do" Jennifer quipped as her black heel boots stepped into the pavement. Zephyr's usually straight hair was all messed out as she got out of the car too. "Here" Jennifer said, trying to brush her hair a little with her hands.

"Don't even bother girl, what I need it's like six shots of tequila right this instance". She stood up straight and walked confidently as if she hadn't almost suffered a brain injury.

Jennifer followed suit, holding her faux fur coat closer, as the autumn wind wrapped around them. There was a big line outside as per usual, but Zephyr just walked up to the front door as if she owned the place.

"Hey gorgeous" she told the bouncer "How you doing tonight?"

"Miss Zephyr. Miss Lola" he nodded to them sheepishly. Jennifer smiled at him. "It's good to see you Eric, is your sister here tonight?"

"Yeah, she was hanging out upstairs I think". He answered as he stepped aside to let them in,. they were greeted by the collage covered walls of the entry hall, with pictures ranging all the way from Marilyn Monroe to Ozzy.

The whole place was crowded as usual. The red leather booths filled with people drinking and smoking like there was no tomorrow, and the pathway to the main bar on the left was also packed. She tried to zoom in to see if she could spot anyone, but Zephyr beat her to it.

"I see DH!" She exclaimed and pulled Jennifer through the people, almost crashing into a waitress. "Sorry!"

"Shit Ilianne, slow down, this is a new coat and I would prefer to not have it covered in beer by the end of the night". Zephyr looked at her horrified by the use of her real name, surely about to complain. "Oh don't start, no one heard that, it's too loud.. Come on, I'll buy the first round of shots".

They headed slowly towards the bar, where a young man with dreads was waving at them. "My dear Darren" Zephyr acknowledged him flirtatiously, pecking him on the lips, as per her usual demeanor with everyone who crossed her path.

"Rough night?" He said looking at her still messy hair and handing them both a beer.

"Oh you have no idea, it's been an absolute odyssey. We almost got mugged and gang raped at the hills."

Jennifer almost snorted the sip she just took "That's fucking crazy" she exclaimed at the other girl "How do you even come up with this kind of shit?" Then she turned to DH "We did almost get into a car crash with Anthony though".

"What for real? Where is he?" He looked around worried.

"Probably fighting with an old lady about some broken sign or something" Zephyr added and then directed her attention towards the bartender "Hey Mick, another one please" she said holding up her now empty beer bottle "Oh and miss Starr here mentioned something about some shots, amiright?" She said to Jennifer, emphasizing on her fake name.

DH looked at Jennifer, seeming confused. She shook her head. "Anyways, I'm supposed to relay the message to Flea. Any ideas where he could be?

He looked towards the stairs next to the bar. "Last I saw him he was going up with Kat and John".

"Who's John?" Zephyr asked while drowning down her second beer, already looking kinda tipsy.

Jennifer was about to excuse herself to go upstairs, but as she turned around she almost bumped into Flea. "Hey, I was looking for you".

"Please tell me Anthony is here, Lindy has been waiting like an hour for him" he asked her, looking tired, his usually joyful demeanor nowhere to be seen as he kept looking behind his back, hoping to see his friend come in.

"He will be here soon... let's just say he got into some issues while parking the car" Jennifer said trying to calm him down.

"Yeah parking it straight into a garbage truck" Zephyr retorted, and Jennifer glared at her. Flea looked too stressed for that type of comment.

"Did something happen?" Jennifer asked the curly blonde, passing him a beer.

"I don't know man" he sighed "Lindy said he has some important news but we all needed to be there..." He turned around "Fuck where the hell is John now?" He turned back at the group. "Man, everyone keeps disappearing on me." He looked straight at DH "Don't you go anywhere".

'Where am I gonna go?" DH laughed as he leaned into the wall. "You need to relax, if it was truly serious stuff, Lindy would have wanted to meet at his office instead of here."

"Agree" Jennifer added "Let me go look for Anthony, I need a drag of fresh air and some delicious nicotine anyway". She squeezed herself between the people surrounding the small side room, and headed back outside. She trembled as the wind hit her, having forgotten how cold it was outside.

She walked over to the brick wall, the names of all the bands who had graced this place written into it. Possible one of the most iconic walls in all of LA.

"It's about 100, in case you're wondering?" a voice said behind her. "The names of the bands, I mean" he added kind of sheepishly. The voice belonged to a young man, with a baby face hidden behind an out of control curly mane.

"Oh so you have counted them?" She asked sarcastically "What are you, some sort of groupie?"

"Fuck no. '' He said defensively, without even thinking about it. She raised her eyebrows at him, looking amused and surprised, and his face turned red, he was trying to back track his words. "Not that that's a bad thing, I mean I don't think it is. I just.. I have heard about you, you know. You're kinda famous around here."

"Oh so you are now implying I'm a groupie?" She said as she took off her green coat, and sat down on the sidewalk.

"I didn't mean it like that..." he said, shuffling his hair.

"No it's okay, I guess that's true to a certain point. Or at least it was... it's been a while." She sighed, glancing at the wall again.

"You don't look that old," he took out a cigarette and sat next to her. Jennifer took one out of her own pack too.

"Well I think it's a combination of me looking younger than I am, and also, that in hindsight, I started "living" way too early" Jennifer reminisced as she leaned closer to John so that he could light her cigarette. She inhaled softly, looking at the dancing flame of the green lighter, before she sneaked a brief glance up to his face. He had really nice brown eyes. "If I'm being honest, I had no idea what I was getting myself into, I was only 12 years old when I came to LA... and I was swept away by everything, all at once.”

He smiled fondly, looking at the bystanders around them. People wearing extravagant clothes, smoking and laughing, as if there wasn't anything else to care about in the world. There were a couple of people on roller skates, and a boom box party going on in the parking lot next door "Yeah, this city has a way of doing that..."

It felt like the minutes went by as they stayed in silence, just observing the ambience outside. And then Jennifer remembered. "Oh shit, I forgot, I'm supposed to be looking for someone" She excused herself, throwing away the cigarette and standing up in a rush. "I didn't catch your name..." she said looking back at him.

"John" He looked happy that she asked. "It's been a pleasure miss Lola Starr '' He bowed with his head and hands in a silly motion and she laughed. She wondered if maybe she should give him her real name, but he had already turned around and went back inside before she even had a chance. Jennifer stood there looking like an idiot, feeling a bit strange as she thought about the interaction. John seemed like a pretty sweet kid. She shook her head to get some clarity, and looked around to see if she could spot Anthony.

#fanfic #fanfiction #john frusciante #red hot chili peppers #future games fanfic #fru

[sshoryuken]

(@nosomatsu)

➣ (O)h great, this guy again. If he'd said he hadn't taken notice of the dark-haired man kicking around the area lately, trying to bum money or cigarettes off the locals, Scott would be lying through his teeth. Not really an uncommon thing for him, but... well... that's different! Just different. But don't ask him how.

With his weird hair done up and yet always so casual-looking, and his constantly-changing sense of style... the way he always seems to talk different, depending on whatever hue he's garbed in on that afternoon. Sometimes it's yellow, and on that day he's shouting about baseball. Other days it can be green, where he's gawking at pretty women with no subtlety at all.

All around, the situation is simply perplexing.

Today he's wearing red, throwing his arm around whatever girl passes by and trying to flirt with no success. Arguably the most annoying personality he takes on next to the blue one, when he speaks in broken French and tries to play guitar. Scott watches from afar, shrouded halfway by the block corner, as he sizes the guy up. He thinks for a moment, trying to gauge if he can simply approach without getting surprise socked in the nose. Normally, he wouldn't care about the presence of some random tourist, but this is a special case. A mystery plaguing his mind that he can't be rid of without proper answers.

He decides to approach. The guy clearly isn't going anywhere, as he still seems to somehow think he can get anywhere with the girls in the province, weaving around the streets delicately and quickly as to avoid him.

"What's your deal?" The query comes out abruptly as Scott stalks up to the unfamiliar, fists balled up and crammed into the pockets of his thick winter jacket.

"Every time I see you around here, you're acting like a different guy. Super weird, dude, lemme tell you."

#☆ bread makes you fat!? ; in character #☆ somewhere only we know ; main verse #nosomatsu #lemme know if i need to change anything!

[your-highnessmarvel]

Always You

Requested by Anonymous: Do you think you could do a prompt where the reader is 20 years younger than Chris and of course happy ending, but he thinks he’s taking away her prime years when he really isn’t and there’s a temporary break before they get back together. (Non famous reader, met at a bar?) please and thank you!

AN: i was watching a star is born when i made this ahahaha so meeting in a bar is thematic here.

Warnings: language

*gif not mine

Enjoyed this and want more? Send in your requests!

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MASTERLIST

The door of the cab banged shut and you walked away without a last glance, your boots scuffing the gravel. You’d ended in some shit butt town off the border of Boston, and now you needed a drink. The guy you’d been seeing had just dumped you because “things were moving too fast”, and now you needed to drown your anger in some gin. 

The said bar - Jack’s Watering Hole - had a sign hanging off one hinge at the door that read “WE CARD ALL MINORS” and a LED sign flashing ladies night. Well, just your luck. 

This was not how you planned to spend your twentieth birthday night. 

The door opened and out came a draft of cigarette smoke and bad breath. You could barely see when you walked in, what with the low lighting and cloud of smoke curling around your leather jacket. Some guy at the bar turned on his rusty stool to stare at you, belly jutted out under a crumby grey wife-beater. 

There were two women in their thirties standing on six-inch heels by a shitty arcade game, giggling, swaying to the intrinsic music. A few lonely birds had flocked on the other side of the bar, staring into their beers. And a fellow with a Red Sox cap sitting alone in a booth, trying really hard not to stare at you but ultimately failing. 

You walked to the bar and ordered straight fucking gin because this was a shit night. 

“And give me whatever that guy sitting in the booth is having,” you added, watching as the bartender - who wore a sleeveless plaid - looked over your shoulder and shrugged. 

You clicked your nails on the bar as you waited, considering if what you were about to do was a good idea or the dumbest. Who knows? Serial killers are just about around every corner these days.

You took your gin and the stranger’s Budweiser - really? - and handed the bartender his money. You took a breath of good luck and twirled on your heel, headed towards the stranger.

He stared at you with open astonishment as you sat down right in front of him, smiling awkwardly, offering him his beer.

“Rough night?” you opened, mentally stabbing yourself for choosing such a cliche line. 

He smiled. Huffed. He had a full, brown beard that shadowed the bottom half of his jaw. A straight nose. Blue eyes. Handsome. What the hell was a J-Krew model doing in this asscrack of a town, in this bum fuck bar?

“Trying to be unnoticeable,” he said, grabbing the beer you offered him. 

You took of sip of gin. “Can’t really go unnoticed when you look like that,” you confessed. Maybe it was your ex’s betrayal or the lonely one hundred dollars sitting in your bank account or your left tire blowing out, but whatever it was that was giving you this much confidence, you loved it. 

“Look like what?” he asked. He tugged, nervously, at the seam of his black sweater sleeve. 

“Like a god,” you mumbled, dipping your lips into your drink.

“Well,” he laughed, “that’s officially the first time I’ve heard someone refer to me as a god.”

His smile was addicting. His laugh was close to dying over. 

You felt the pinch of attraction in your belly. “What do they refer to you as, then?”

He mimicked being in deep thought. “Hunk,” he said, pointing the tip of his beer at you. “Hollywood’s hottest single.”

Your face went hot. Flames were literally burning under your flesh. 

Hollywood?

“What?”

He smiled knowingly. 

“What?”

You scanned him briefly. He had the military-cut-out body type. The clear as a baby’s butt skin. The clothes with tags like Lacoste and Levi. 

Oh. 

Oh God.

“You’re...” you breathed out, finally putting two and two together. “My God. Chris fucking Evans.”

He threw his head back and laughed. “That’s a hell of an introduction,” he laughed. Holy Christ in Heaven, his laugh was like a waterfall of gold. 

Your face was hot. “I’m so sorry,” you said. “It barely registered. I’ve been having the shittiest week of my life.”

“Boyfriend?”

“Ex,” you corrected. “But also my boss smells like hotdog water. Oh, and my ex left a bunch of skidmarked underwear in my room. My left tire blew out. I can’t seem to save up any money. And I’m being kicked out of my apartment if I can’t get rid of my cat.”

Chris frowned, shaking his head. “Animals before anything,” he said, taking a sip. “I get that.”

“Yeah, as if I’d give away Looney Tunes for a three and a half with barely any hot water.”

“I know a few apartment blocks near my house that allow animals,” he said, slowly taking a sip. 

Your brow rose. “Am I about to know the super secret location of a celebrity’s house?”

Chris laughed. “If you want, you could come over for tea,” he suggested, cheeks pink.

Your mouth fell open. “You drink tea?”

“Of course.”

“We need to get married right away,” you deadpanned.

Chris roared with laughter, left-boob-grabbing and all. 

By the time the night ended, your number was in Chris’s phone and you were on your way to his house

TWO YEARS LATER

You took your bags from the bed, trying to keep the feeling of dread from crawling up and out of your throat.

“You’re okay?” he asked, sitting in the corner, elbows on his knees. 

You couldn’t look at him. You couldn’t comprehend the idea that he was letting you go, that you would never see him again. The hurt crawled through your ribs and bled into your lungs. 

“No,” you said, keeping a sob in your throat. “I just don’t...” you trailed off, sighing. 

Chris got up, smoothing his hands on his pants. “I just think it’s better this way,” he whispered.

Your eyes snapped to his, teary-eyed, cheeks blotchy. “Better?” you gritted. “Better!?”

“Y/N,” he said, calmly. “You’re twenty-two. I’m forty. Do you not see that I’m doing this for you?”

“Oh, right, the righteous older man,” you grumbled.

“No,” he sighed. “I’m just trying to not take away the best years of your life.”

“These were the best years of my life because of you!” you exclaimed, tears spilling hot over your cheeks. 

You saw the strain in his face, the strain to remain stoic. “You should be out with your friends, in bars, in clubs, staying out late and eating takeout half-asleep, drunk as hell. Not here at nine in the evening, curling up in a face mask with me. Not here, every night, reading.”

“God,” you groaned, throwing your hands up. “You really can’t see that this is what I want. You are what I want. I don’t care that I’m missing out. I don’t want to go out until 4 am, drunk off my ass, every night.”

Chris shook his head. 

You blew out a breath. “I see,” you whispered. “You’ve made up your mind.”

You picked up your bags, not letting him have the last word, and stormed out of his room, of his house, not even saying goodbye to Dodger.

SIX MONTHS LATER

“Ericka!” you called. No answer. “Ericka! Do you have my hair straightener!?”

You stormed across the flat, coming to your roommate’s door, knocking. 

“No! Go away!”

She wasn’t just your roommate, but also your best friend.

After Chris had all but broken your heart, she’d offered a place in her apartment. She’d also held you every night as you cried, stroking your hair. She’d also talked you out of calling Chris, or texting him, or sending him some cryptic letter with a bunch of cut-out magazine letters. 

“Oh my God, you have it!?” you yelled, storming into her room. She was running across her bed, the said item in her left hand. 

“NO, LEAVE!”

You ran across the room, trying to tackle her.

“GIVE IT BACK!”

Someone yelled. Ericka fell off the bed. She kicked you by accident in the ribs and you fell off the bed, knocking your head harshly against the floor. It made a sickening thud and you momentarily went blind.

Ericka yelled. “Oh my God!”

When you came too, you were strapped to stretcher, a paramedic telling you not to fall asleep. But you did. 

You don’t know how long you were out, but when you awaoke, there was a doctor there.

“Hello Miss,” she said, smiling broadly. “I’m just going to shine a light in your eyes, okay?” 

You nodded, groggy, looking around. 

She shone the light in your eyes, humming, seeming content and unalarmed by what she saw. 

“So looks like you had a little concussion from your fall,” she said. “We’ll keep you here overnight, just to make sure you’re all right.”

“Um, okay,” you muttered. “Can I get water?”

“Of course, I’ll send a nurse.” She got up. “Someone is here to see you. Are you willing?”

You frowned. It was probably Ericka. “Sure.”

But it wasn’t your best friend to walk into your room. 

And it’s at that moment, when Chris walked in, that you realized you were in a private room. You didn’t have that kind of money....

“Y/N,” Chris sighed, rushing to your bedside, his voice laced with worry. 

Your mouth moved, a rising tide of something coming up in your throat. God, even after six months, you were still so in love with him. 

His warm fingers grazed your cheek and you flinched, realizing you probably had a bruise. 

“God, I was so worried,” he said, eyes searching yours. “Does your head hurt?”

You sat up, straightening your neck. “Chris,” you said, tone harsh. You saw the way he inched away, hands going into his pockets. “You... you broke up with me. What are you doing here?”

The question hit. He put his hand to his mouth, sighing, sitting on the edge of the bed and hanging his head. 

“I didn’t... I didn’t break up with you. I just... set you free.” He sighed heavily, shaking his head slowly. “And I regret it. I wish I could take it back, Y/N.”

You frowned. “You... you set me free?”

Tears gathered behind your lashes.

When he rose his head and saw the tears, he reached out and wiped his thumb under your eye, stopping the fresh tears from staining your skin. 

“No,” he whispered, his own blue eyes glinting. “I was a complete idiot. I shouldn’t...” He didn’t dare finish that sentence.

“But you did,” you said, biting your lip. 

He looked up, breathing in, looking around the room. “So, how did you get in here?” he asked. “Did you forget how to walk down the stairs or something?”

You laughed. The surprised yourself and giggled. Then you thought twice and covered your mouth with your hand. 

Chris smiled softly. “Missed that,” he rasped. 

“I ran after Ericka cause she stole my hair straightener, then she kicked me in the ribs and I fell.”

Chris chuckled. “I remember how savage you get when your things are misplaced.”

You smiled, reminiscing on that time Chris did some cleaning and put your elastics in another drawer and you lost it. 

Chris reached out and tentatively took your hand. “Y/N, I just... I’ll leave right after, but I want you back.”

The admission was so raw, so honest and cold, that you just stared at him. 

“If that’s not what you want, I promise, I will walk out and you will never see me again.”

You nodded, biting your lip, eyes cast down to avoid shedding more tears. 

The bed dipped as Chris got to his feet, the smell of him lingering long after he’d left.

You dropped your head into your hands, sigh turning into a sob. 

A few minutes passed, your heart beating erratically in your chest. 

“Dammit,” you mumbled, grabbing your phone. 

You pressed on the contact info you still kept despite Ericka telling you to delete it. 

He picked up on the first ring. 

“Get back in here and help me get my hair done,” you ordered.

There was a soft chuckle. “Anything for you, baby,” Chris said, and you heard him laughing in the hallway.  

#chris evans #chris evansxyou #chris evansxreader #chris evansxyn #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you #chris evans imagine #chris evans oneshot #fluff #angst

[mr-chrisevans]

Meet Cute - pt. 10 (final)

Word Count: 2,140

First Chapter | Last Chapter

When I got home that night I sat in my car trying to brace myself to face Estelle. The thing that finally coaxed me out was a text from her telling me my food was getting cold. I walked inside and tried to pretend that everything was completely normal and I didn’t just make my life more complicated than it already was. The act lasted for the thirty seconds it took me to walk from the front door into our kitchen. “What the fuck is up with you tonight?”

“What do you mean?” I said, my voice two octaves higher than usual.

“Stop trying to hide it, I know you too well.” She said as she got her own food together. “Did something happen with Chris?”

With my back still facing her, I took a deep breath and came out with it. “I kissed Chris.”

She was silent for a while before she sighed. “Oh boy.”

“Is that all you have to say?” I asked, turning back around to face her.

“I mean, I don’t really know what you want me to say about it.” She said. “Did it mean something to you?”

I opened my mouth to respond but shut it before I could say anything. I didn’t want it to mean anything. I had spent this much time trying to convince myself that I no longer had feelings for Chris and I didn’t want to admit that I was deluding myself. All the time we were spending together under the guise of just being friends was really just me trying to spend as much time with him as possible without being honest with myself. I hesitated again before I finally spoke. “I think it did.” She turned away from me but not before I could see her smiling. “Why are you smiling about this? I just majorly fucked up.”

“I’m just glad you’ve finally owned up to it.” She said. “You haven’t been acting the same since you and Chris broke up. And no matter how much you pretend to like Adam it’s pretty obvious that you have never felt about him the way you do about Chris.”

I sighed and leaned against the counter. “I really hate it when you’re right.” I said.

“You might hate me a little more after this, but you’ve got to talk to Adam now.”

I buried my head in my hands. “Oh god, I didn’t even think about that. How could I not think about that!” I shouted through my hands. “I’m such an awful person.”

Estelle put her arm around my shoulder to comfort me. “You’re not a bad person. Everyone makes mistakes and this one really isn’t the worst in the grand scheme of things. But you do need to talk to Adam and tell him the truth. Be honest and say you don’t want to be together anymore.”

We stood in the kitchen for a few minutes in silence, my head leaning against her shoulder while she gently rubbed my back. “How did you learn to give such good advice?”

“I’m your perpetually single friend, it comes with the territory.” She joked.

*****

That Friday I told Adam I would meet him at his apartment for dinner. At least if I broke up with him on his down turf he could dramatically throw me out and maybe he’d feel better about that. Wishful thinking, I know. Every minute I got closer to his apartment I felt more and more dread, but I knew this was the only course of action. To do anything else would make me more of an asshole than I already was.

When he opened the door to greet me I tried to plaster on a nice smile and seem normal. It didn’t seem to work because his own smile faltered a little when he saw me. “Hey Laurel, I’m glad you could come over tonight.” He gave me a kiss on the cheek and stepped aside to let me in.

“Me too.” I told him.

“Are you okay? You seem a little tense.”

I realized that I was gripping my purse so tight my knuckles were starting to turn white. “Oh yeah, I’m fine.” I managed to say and released my hands from the strap of my purse. “Just had a stressful day at work.”

“Those California yoga moms really can be assholes when they don't have their coffee.” He took my purse and set it on his front table.

“If I had to pay a nanny to care for my kids I think I’d be exhausted too.” I joked.

Adam laughed weakly and walked into the kitchen. “Well, the food is almost done and hopefully dinner will ease your stress a little.

“I certainly hope so.”

I tried to act calm during dinner but I must have looked like a robot because Adam kept shooting me little concerned glances. He had to know something was up and the sooner I did it the better. It was time to rip off the bandaid.

He beat me to the punch. “Is there something you want to talk about? It seems like you have a lot more on your mind than just a bad day at work.”

“You’re very perceptive.” I tried to joke but his face didn’t break. I took a deep breath to steady myself before I continued. “I should have told you about this sooner, and for that I’m sorry, but I still have feelings for the guy I was seeing before you. It’s not fair to you that I haven’t been as invested in this relationship.”

He leaned back into his chair and shook his head. “I knew this was coming.”

“I’m really that transparent, aren’t I.”

He chuckled. “Very much so. I could tell these past few weeks that there was something up. I didn’t want to believe it, but I could tell.”

My heart sank. “I should have said something to you earlier. I’m so sorry Adam.”

“No you’re not.” I was surprised at what he was saying, but he wasn’t angry. “It’s been obvious that whoever this guy before me was, he’s still on your mind. You can’t give anyone a fair shot if you’re still hung up on him.”

“You should be a therapist. I think you’d make good money.” I said and managed to make him smile.

“I really hope everything works out for you, Laurel. You clearly care about him a lot and he’s very lucky for that.” We said our goodbyes and I drove back home. I was in a much better mood than most people would be after just breaking up with someone, but it was done. I did it and was overcome with relief.

*****

I had made sure that Estelle was invited to the Halloween party so I had someone in my corner to cheer me on. I really think she was just glad I had finally made up my mind instead of moping around the apartment like a character in a Jane Austen novel. "I really can't believe you're about to pour your heart out to him dressed as a man." Estelle said as I walked out of my room in my costume.

"Oh, come on. John Lennon is a great costume idea. At least I'm not being boring and unoriginal." I said and gestured to her vampire costume that she had worn the year before.

"It's a tried-and-true, what can I say." I rolled my eyes at her and tossed her her keys. "You ready for this?" She asked.

"You know, yeah I am." For the first time in a while it really did feel like I was making the right decision and now all I could do was hope Chris would feel the same way.

Estelle gave me a pep talk on the way to the party, but the second we walked into Chris' house I had butterflies in my stomach so bad I could have sworn I was about to throw up. Before I could bail back to the car Josh spotted us and my window of escape closed. "Hey guys, nice to see you here."

"Well, we have the party planner in chief here." Estelle wrapped her arm around me and gave me a quick squeeze. "There's no way we would miss it."

"Speaking of party planners, have you seen Chris?" I asked. "I wanted to talk to him really quickly."

"Last I saw him he was talking to someone in the living room. The alcohol is in the kitchen, by the way." He winked at me. It was obvious that I needed a little liquid courage. I smiled at him and walked into the kitchen, Estelle right behind me.

I shakily picked up a beer from a tub of ice in the kitchen and struggled to open it myself. Estelle gently put her hand on my arm and opened the bottle for me. "I know you're worried about this, but everything will be okay regardless of what happens. Once you do this there will be no more what-ifs and you can put this aside if you have to."

I looked out into the living room from where we were standing, but I couldn’t see Chris anywhere. “You think he sensed what I was going to do and ran away?” I joked.

“Would you just shut up and go look around. It’s his house he’s bound to be here somewhere.” I walked around the party for a few minutes trying to find him with no luck. I chatted with a few people but when I still couldn’t find him I went out to the patio to smoke a cigarette in defeat. I pulled out the pack I hid inside my jacket from Estelle and sat down on a bench in the best spot I could find to avoid being seen from inside.

“You know, I almost didn’t realize it was you with that mustache.” I turned and saw Chris closing the glass door behind him and walking over to me.

“It really does complete the look.” I laughed.

“That it does.” He said and sat next to me. “Mind if I bum one off you?” He gestured to the pack in my lap.

“Not at all.” I handed him the pack and lit his cigarette for him. “I was looking for you earlier, but it seems you disappeared.”

He looked at the ground and took a drag. “Yeah, I just needed a second by myself. There are so many fucking people in this house. Not quite sure how I got roped into hosting this.” He laughed. We both sat in silence for a while before he spoke again. “So, why were you looking for me?”

I tapped on the cigarette with my forefinger and tried to steady myself. “I wanted to talk to you about something.”

I could feel him tense next to me. It was the smallest movement but I could tell he was nervous. “Nothing bad, I hope.”

I shook my head. “Nothing bad.” I took a deep breath before I spoke again. “I broke up with Adam.”

“Oh. I’m sorry about that, Laurel. Really that sucks.” He said.

“It wasn’t the worst thing in the world, if I’m being honest. I’ve been through worse break ups.” I said and looked over at him.

He leaned back against the wall. “If this was my fault, I really am sorry I didn’t mean-”

I put my hand on his arm as I interrupted him. “Chris. It’s not your fault. If anyone is responsible for it it’s me for not owning up to how I really feel about you.”

He looked back at me and he eased a little. “So I didn’t fuck up too bad the other day?”

I laughed. “No, not at all. You made me realize how I actually feel. I couldn’t ignore it any longer. I had to confront it head on.”

“The kiss was that good, eh.”

“Oh, shut up.” I laughed.

He tossed his cigarette on the ground and rubbed it out with his shoe. “Laurel, I want to make it work this time. My life is complicated to say the least, but I want to be there for you the best I can. I care about you so much. I don’t want to lose you this time.”

“You won’t lose me. I promise.” I looked into his eyes and I again felt like I could get lost in them. As much as we had been through in the small time we knew each other, it was all worth it just to keep getting lost in those eyes. He wrapped his arms around me and kissed me. I felt myself melt into him and the rest of the world faded into black. I was right where I was supposed to be.

#chris evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fanfic #chris evans fic #meet cute #mc ch 10

[shield-sheafson]

Chapters: ¼ Fandom: Batman - All Media Types Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Cassandra Cain & Jason Todd, Stephanie Brown & Cassandra Cain, Stephanie Brown & Jason Todd Characters: Jason Todd, Cassandra Cain, Stephanie Brown Additional Tags: Found Family, Fluff, Light Angst, Homelessness, Cass knows like 8 words rip, slight crime, Jason Todd and Cassandra Cain meet earlier, Cassandra Cain and Jason Todd are Siblings, but not blood siblings in this just two kids who adopted each other, street siblings au Summary:

Professional street urchin Jason Todd is struck by an uneasy feeling and suspects someone is following him. That someone is former child assassin Cassandra Cain, who, with nowhere else to go, is taking a leap of faith.

—

This is my take on the Street Siblings AU by @a-sketchy-character​!  I told them earlier that I’d write something for it, so here I am owning up! Of course, you can read their comic based on this au @streetsiblings.  Of course, @greytoiletpaper also wrote one (https://archiveofourown.org/works/27100699/chapters/66175306) and Experimental_Muse wrote this one (https://archiveofourown.org/works/27037882).  Go check them out!  Since this is such a popular concept, I hope I do a good job.

—

Jason pops another M&M into his mouth, rolling it around on his tongue instead of chewing it. He has no idea why someone would throw away a perfectly good bag of candy, but he’s not going to think too hard about it. Maybe he’s imagining it, but he can feel the strength coming back into his limbs. He feels less sleepy, too.

He tucks the empty bag into the pocket of his frayed jeans, already regretting finishing them. Now that he’s eaten something, what else is he going to do with his day? He hasn’t found any cigarettes, which is a pain, since it’s so cold that his nose feels numb and he could really use some warm smoke to fill up his aching lungs.

Maybe he’ll go to the library. He’s still too small to kick out for loitering, right? Just as he turns to leave the alley, Jason feels a shiver run up his spine. He whips around, raising his fists defensively. Nobody’s there. This doesn’t calm him down. Jason squints as he peers into the dark, wet alley, looking for any sign of movement.

“Hey,” he says in the deepest, roughest voice he can muster. “Think good and hard about what you’re about to do, buddy.”

What is the invisible person about to do? Jason isn’t sure, but he wants them to think good and hard about it. He hears a scuffle and nearly jumps out of his skin only to realize that it’s just a rat migrating from beneath the dumpster to a pile of cardboard boxes.

“What are you playing?” Jason asks. This voice is making his throat hurt. “Is this some kind of joke?”

Nobody answers. Jason weighs his options and decides that the best choice is to make a run for it. He nearly slips on a patch of slush in his haste to get out of the alley. Even when he’s a safe two blocks away he still has an uneasy feeling.

—

A couple of hours later, Jason has shaken off that gross feeling and has settled down outside the 7-11. He used to go here a lot– when his mom was around, it was where they got their groceries. Sometimes she’d splurge and they would split a can of Yoohoo. Even though he doesn’t have any money to go in with, something about the worn bricks and the smoky smell is comforting.

A gaunt man with dark circles under his eyes and a scraggly gray beard joins him, sitting gingerly on the damp ground.

“Afternoon,” he says cordially.

“It’s dark out,” Jason says. He’s not sure what time it actually is. Days and nights tend to blur together. They’re basically the same, though nights tend to be more dangerous.

“Damned if it isn’t,” the man says. “What’s a kid doing out this late?”

“Anywhere else I’m supposed to be?” Jason asks, scowling.

“Just askin’, just askin’,” the man says, raising his palms. “I’d just get somewhere safe if I was you. Some guy’s been– what?”

“What?” Jason repeats after him. “What’s going on?”

“Just thought I… It’s not safe for kids out there lately, is all I’m sayin’.”

Jason sighs and shoves his hands deeper into his pockets, dragging down the edge of his hoodie. “Is it that big a deal?” It’s never really safe out there, but he’s always gotten by fine. “You’re not a kid, so you’re fine.”

“Nothin’ wrong with a little empathy,” the man says.

Jason rolls his eyes and walks off to find another place to lurk.

—

It happens the next day, too. Jason has the unpleasant feeling of eyes on his back when he covertly removes a woman’s wallet from her purse and he’s certain someone is about to yell “Stop! Thief!” but nobody does.

When he walks proudly out of McDonald’s with a bag of french fries bought will ill-gotten money, he expects someone to ask for one. Of course, he would have said “no,” but it’s almost disappointing when there’s nobody to answer. He’s not disappointed enough to be really put-off, though. He still stuffs his face wholeheartedly.

Maybe he’s just being paranoid.

—

Jason has been sleeping rough lately. The condemned buildings are already full of squatters, and he knows better than to accept “help” from people who offer couches to young boys. With nowhere inside to sleep, he’s been hiding from the sleet in a cardboard shelter he built in an out-of-view area between buildings and lined with newspaper.

Of course, it’s not usually safe to build a fire when your whole house is so flammable, but he’s risking it tonight. He has a pile of yet more cardboard and newspaper on the other side of the alley, but it’s damp and he’s having a rough time getting it to set alight.

“Come on,” he mutters as he clicks the lighter yet again. It’s a nice one (his mother had liked it a lot) but it doesn’t seem to be doing the trick. Jason curses under his breath as the edge of the funnies page smolders and blackens without actually catching fire. Garfield stares at him judgmentally. That’s when he hears it.

A light “thump,” soft but unmistakable. Jason’s head snaps up. He’s afraid to turn and look. At best, it’s another bum looking to share his fire. At worst, it’s…

“What are you looking at?” he says harshly, still not turning his head. “Go find somewhere else.”

The presence at his back doesn’t go away. He feels frozen in place– he’ll admit it, he’s afraid. He knows someone has been following him. He doesn’t know who or why. He hasn’t had a moment where it’s not on his mind, and now his mysterious pursuer is right behind him. His only option is to protect himself.

Jason very slowly reaches into his pocket for the worn switchblade he’s carried since he was nine. His hand trembles as he wraps his fingers around the cold handle.

A hand is laid on his shoulder. He shoots up, pulling the knife out of his pocket and spinning around to face the person behind him.

Before he’s able to do anything a small, strong hand wraps around his wrist, stopping the freed knife in its path. His arm is yanked forward and a palm is shoved under his chin, forcing his face up. He just stands that way for a second, too shocked to move. His opponent doesn’t try to do anything else; they just keep him stuck with his chin pushed up and his arm stretched out, knife useless.

Slowly, cautiously, the hand under his chin lowers, though the grip on his wrist is still tight. He gets a good look at the person who’s apparently decided to hold him hostage.

They’re a kid. They’re (she’s) a little girl, much shorter than him, with big, serious eyes and a mouth covered by a heavy scarf.

“You’re really small,” he says through the hand that’s still partly covering his mouth. “What the fuck.”

She assesses him, eyes darting from his face to his free hand to his battered shoes. Slowly, she loosens her grip and lets go of his chin, releasing him. She takes a step back, body tense and ready to attack or dart away at any second.

Jason clicks his blade back into its case and slides the knife back into his pocket, not looking away from the girl’s face. She has dirty black hair that hangs in her eyes and thick brows. Her nose is delicate and rounded. If she hadn’t just had him in a painful hold, he would have assumed she was harmless.

“Why have you been following me around?” he asks. She doesn’t answer. “What do you want from me?” Again, no answer. Jason sighs (a puff of mist from his mouth). “I’m Jason.” He holds out his hand. Hesitantly, she grips it. Her hand is cold and thin. She still doesn’t say anything.

The girl lets go of his hand and points to the lighter on the ground. It glints at him in greeting.

“What?” Jason asks.

The girl squats on the ground and retrieves the lighter. She hands it to him and points at the pile of cardboard and newspaper.

“Wanna make a fire?” he asks. “There’s garbage in there, so it’ll stink.”

She doesn’t nod. She just points again expectantly.

“'Kay,” Jason says. “Can you talk at all?”

The girl doesn’t respond. Jason shrugs and crouches by his fire heap. The girl plops back on her bottom and crosses her legs.

It takes a while to get it to light. It’s a little embarrassing failing again and again with someone there to watch. Finally, one of the dryer pieces of paper goes alight and spreads to one of the bigger pieces of cardboard.

“See? It does work!” Jason says. Does he sound defensive? “It usually works fine,” he adds. This doesn’t make him any less embarrassed. He puts the lighter in his pocket with the switchblade and holds his hands out, taking in the heat. The girl pulls down her scarf. In the flickering light, he can see she’s smiling at him. She holds out her hands too, and they sit in silence for some time.

—

Jason realizes he’s awake before his eyes open. He’s aware again that his nose and fingers are cold and the back of his hair is wet from the damp concrete. His eyes flicker open and he sees that it’s daytime, pale gray and foggy. He rolls over, realizing with some consternation that he’s not even in his box hut. Anybody could have come and gotten him while he was asleep. He’s lucky they didn’t. He shouldn’t be so– what.

Someone is a few feet away from him, sitting up with her arms wrapped tightly around her knees, looking at him thoughtfully.

Jason scrambles backward, scraping his hands on the rough concrete. He bumps his head on the brick wall behind him. It seems that the bricks knock some sense into him because suddenly the events of last night come back to him and he feels like an idiot.

“What are you doing?” he asks, rubbing his head.

The girl scoots over to him and pats his shoulder. Ah. She’s still not talking. Jason sits up straight. He pats her shoulder back. She smiles.

“So, do you just want to hang around here?” Jason asks, even though he knows she won’t answer. “In this alley?”

The girl just looks at him. This is starting to get frustrating.

“Just– just stay, I guess,” Jason says, standing. He points at the ground. “I’ll be back. I’m gonna go get something to eat.”

He backs out of the alleyway, raising his palms as though he’s trying to calm a wild animal. He turns around when he’s certain that she’s staying. He puts his hands in his pockets and releases a breath of relief. Something about that girl makes him nervous. What’s her game? Is she just stupid? He wraps his fingers around the lighter and somehow feels a little more secure.

Jason settles outside a coffee shop and crosses his legs. Dozens of people walk right past him, ignoring his grubby face as they head to work.

“Hey, miss,” Jason says, making eye contact with a woman in a blue pantsuit. An almost fearful look falls on her face as she realizes she’s been wrangled into an interaction with him. “Got a dollar?”

“I’m sorry,” she says quickly. “I don’t carry change.” She scurries off, nearly slipping in her high heels on the icy sidewalk.

“'Scuse me,” Jason says to the lady with the corgi on a leash. “That’s a cute dog you have there.”

“Thank you,” the lady says apprehensively. She walks a little faster.

“Wait!” Jason says. “Can I pet him?”

“S-sure,” the lady says. She turns and walks the dog up to Jason. It smiles stupidly at him. Jason stretches his hand out and it sniffs him with its wet nose. Jason rubs it between the ears. Even though this is for selfish reasons, he appreciates its attention.

“Can you spare seventy cents?” Jason asks. “For a bottle of water?”

The lady, with nowhere to escape to, reaches into her purse, takes out a dollar, and drops it into Jason’s open hand. Jason thanks her sweetly. When she walks away, he can’t hide his shit-eating grin.

Jason manages to gather up seven dollars before the coffee shop’s manager comes out and says “scram.” Jason smiles appeasingly as he leaves. He knows better than to get in a fight with someone without holes in their shoes.

At the convenience store, Jason buys an energy drink and a hot dog, like usual. Then he remembers someone is waiting for him and adds a plastic-wrapped breakfast sandwich. He’s wondering whether the stupid girl is a coffee person when the cashier starts giving him suspicious looks, so he grabs another Red Bull and pays quickly.

It’s kind of nice shopping for someone else. Even if it’s a little sad to think about the last time he was shopping for two. He whistles quietly as he walks through the glass door when– oops.

“Watch where you’re going!” he snaps.

The girl steps back and smiles apologetically.

“Oh… It’s you.” The door swings shut behind Jason. “I’d ask you to stop following me, but I don’t think you understand what I’m saying.”

The girl tilts her head. Maybe she does understand? Whatever.

He gestures for her to follow him. The convenience store people don’t like it when he hangs out right by the door. It creeps out the customers.

There aren’t as many people on the sidewalk anymore; they’ve all gone on with their days. Jason notices that the girl skips a little on her shorter legs to keep up with him. She isn’t wearing socks, he realizes. That can’t be good in this weather.

They stop to sit on the front steps of the law office. Jason pulls the food out of his plastic grocery bag and hands the sandwich to the girl. She takes it gratefully. He takes out his hot dog and realizes that the jostling while he was walking has deconstructed it. He shrugs.

“I’m guessing you’re new around here,” Jason says. “You’re not supposed to just latch on to people.”

The girl starts tearing greedily into her sandwich.

“I do pretty well on my own. I’m not gonna babysit you, you know.”

She nods. Again, Jason isn’t sure she’s taking in what he’s saying.

“Seriously. You can’t hang out with me. I’m busy.”

She smiles. Jason rolls his eyes.

“I like being alone.”

The sandwich is gone. She points to his hot dog.

“I mean, I guess,” he says, handing it to her. She looks at it for a second. A guilty expression falls on her face and she hands it back. “I don’t even know your name.”

“Cassandra,” she says.

“Wait, you can talk?”

“Jason,” she says, patting his shoulder.

The snow is dirty, but the sun glints off it prettily. Jason hates to admit it, but he’s in a pretty good mood right now.

#batman #dcu #jason todd #cassandra cain #street siblings au #dc #me writing

[percyinpanties]

hey I'm the pipeyna anon and that's ok!!! can u do pipeyna with piper pining after hot jock Reyna which hopefully ends happy (smutty)

just a quick warm-up, i say, i won’t spend too much time on this. i really had to resist just going on and on and on with this. i miss writing this ship, damn.

anyway - this fits really well with an enemy to lovers prompt i have for jercy, so thats what im hinting at too here.

Read on Ao3

for context : i always write college aus from a UK uni perspective bc that’s all i know and i don’t care to adapt to how it might or might not work in the u.s. (sorry)

rating: teen+ (no smut in this one, but let me tell you, this TEMPTED me)

words: 2.2k 

___

“An actual goddess” Piper says wistfully from where she’s leaning against the wall next to Percy, taking back the cigarette she’d just bummed of him. Her eyes are glued on the field, and more precisely on Reyna, smile on her face and water bottle in her hand as she jogs over to Jason standing at the side of the field. They greet each other with a hug, even as Reyna wrinkles her face, seemingly complaining about her own sweatiness.

It’s coincidence that the end of Reyna’s soccer practice collides conveniently with Piper’s and Percy’s late seminar on Mondays. It isn’t coincidence that Percy and her have taken to sharing a cigarette on the side of the building that looks out toward the field during their break, however.

 Percy makes a non-committal noise and his eyes follow Piper’s gaze while she takes a drag of the cigarette and wrinkles her nose. She needs to quit smoking for good, she thinks, and flicks the ash to the ground. There was a brief moment in first year when Piper thought that Percy might be interested in Reyna, or she in him, but luckily, nothing ever came of that.

 “You think they’re dating?” Percy asks, arms crossed over his chest now, making no move to take the cigarette back again. He’s not even pretending not to be staring, his eyes intense where they flit between Reyna and Jason. Piper on the other hand has the common decency to at least cast her eyes away every now and again before she’s caught looking for a little too long.

At the edge of the field, Reyna and Jason are standing close together now, chatting about god knows what, smiling and laughing. They’re certainly comfortable with each other, but Piper can’t say that’s much of an indication given how she’s around Percy.

 “I hope not.” Piper mutters and Percy laughs at that, even though she knows he agrees. Percy wouldn’t admit it in a million years, but Piper would bet real money that he has a thing for Jason, too, as much as he claims to hate the guy. She’d have to be deaf and blind not to notice the tension between them.

It would make sense, though, in a way. Jason is captain of the men’s rugby team, Reyna of the women’s soccer team. Some of their practices collide and the two clubs do most of their weekly socials together, and Piper’s seen the two of them hanging out aside from that plenty as well. Reyna and her haven’t talked much about Jason, maybe because Piper hasn’t actually exchanged more than five words with him and never had much of an urge to change that, but she knows that Reyna and Jason have known each other before university.

Around Jason, Reyna seems to let her guard down, something Piper has only managed to achieve a handful of times since they met during their first year.

 Jason laughs at something Reyna says, eyes bright and head thrown back and Piper can’t deny that he’s handsome, at the very least. He’s fairly decent, too, as far as guys go, and really, Piper knows she shouldn’t be hoping that there is nothing between Reyna and him if that is what would make Reyna happy.

 “Invite her to the party.” Percy suggests then, drawing Piper’s attention back from the tangent her brain was so insistent to start on. When Piper turns her face to look at him, he’s already looking back at her, one eyebrow arched. “I was going to, anyway, but it’s different coming from you yourself.”

 He’s not teasing her, it’s an honest suggestion, and technically not even a bad one. It’s Percy’s birthday this weekend, and if nothing else, it would be a good excuse to hang out again. Percy knows a ton of people, but he usually doesn’t invite too many to his party, so with any luck, it won’t be too crowded to actually spend some time with Reyna.

More than that, though, it’s another opportunity for Piper to finally get a move on. Percy, Piper knows, thinks that Piper’s pining had reached a point where it’s almost comical halfway through last year, but even so, Piper has yet to manage to actually act on her feelings.

A party is casual enough that she can always play it off as nothing serious when it ends up blowing up in her face. Piper might finally get over herself and just ask Reyna out already – although she’s tried that a few times before only to find herself tongue tied and staring at Reyna like she hung the moon in the sky. She’s been head over heels for Reyna since maybe three weeks after they met in first year, and now that they’re starting their third and final year, Piper needs to get a move on or it’ll simply be too late. Granted, she’s scared shitless at the prospect of being turned down, but at this point, even that would be better than pining forever and never finding out if she’d even stand a chance.

 “Yeah… maybe.” Piper says finally, and manages a small smile towards Percy who bumps his shoulder against hers playfully. They should be heading back inside, so Piper sneaks a last glance toward Reyna and this time, finds her looking back.

    They don’t share any classes this year, and Piper doesn’t usually run into Reyna on campus, so on Wednesday morning, she ends up texting Reyna on her way to class. She fumbles with her phone, almost tripping over her own two feet trying to type the words out as fast as possible, and ends up having to sidestep off the path to actually send the texts.

 Hey you.

we’re having a party on Saturday, it’s Percy’s birthday.

 Piper wants to add more, but instead, she bites her lip and stuffs her phone back into the pocket of her jeans. It’s almost an open invitation like this already anyway, and Piper wants to gauge Reyna’s first reaction before deciding exactly how she’s going about asking. Technically, it would be so easy to just as Reyna to go with her, specifically, to the party, but the intention might be lost over text and anyway, wouldn’t it be simpler to just invite her generally?

Piper frets throughout the entirety of her first lecture, and most of the second one, for nothing. Reyna doesn’t answer, even though the messenger app shows Piper that she’s read both texts already, and Piper tries not to be disappointed about it. She doesn’t know what Reyna’s schedule is like today, the girl might just be busy and planned on replying later. It makes sense, much more than Piper’s second thought that Reyna is not answering because Piper is annoying and Reyna doesn’t actually want to spend any time with her. She knows that thought is stupid, knowing that however does nothing to ease the anxious knot in Piper’s stomach.

 Piper finds herself checking her phone more often than not. It would be funny if it wasn’t so ridiculous, and if the lecturer wasn’t so clearly catching on that Piper isn’t paying as much attention to the class as she is to her phone. She texts Percy as well, but she knows he’s in that seminar he shares with Jason, so chances are that she won’t be getting a reply on that end anytime soon either.  In the end, she has to force herself to put her phone away and actually focus on the lecture up front, even though by that point, she is already lost as to what they’re even talking about in the first place. It’s no good, and Piper can’t deny being relieved when the lecturer eventually dismisses the class.

 She doesn’t allow herself to check her messages until she’s across campus in the coffee shop, queuing for some much needed caffeine and fishing out her phone so she doesn’t have to make small talk with anyone while she waits in line. Reyna still hasn’t replied, but at least Percy has messaged her after his seminar.

 I’m gonna strangle him, Piper. You’ll have to bust me out of prison because they are going to arrest me for goddamn murder.

 All she’d asked was if his classes were as boring as hers today, and while she had expected Percy to go off about Jason in reply, this isn’t exactly what she’d thought to be reading today. She smiles at her phone, types out a quick reply and moves up in the queue.

 That bad? What’s he done now?

 The way Percy talks about Jason makes Piper think of a Cartoon Network villain, always plotting, provoking and scheming. The few times she’s spoken to Jason, the guy wasn’t half bad, and if Piper is honest, she doesn’t quite get the vendetta these two have with each other. She suspects though that it has something to do with how ‘infuriatingly attractive, like fucking superman or something’ Percy described Jason after their first class together.

 It’s like he thinks I’m stupid or something. Got a dumb fucking project to do together and he honestly told me that he ‘needs to pass this class so iif I’m not planning to put in the work, we might as well ask for new partners right away’

Like, excuse me, bitch? My grades are better than yours, for one thing

And for another, it’s not like good-old Dodds is gonna let us switch anyway

 Piper huffs audibly while she reads the texts. It’s clear Percy’s actually upset by this, and she figures it will only get worse if they actually have to do the work together in the coming weeks. Before she can shoot Percy a reply though, she’s next in line.

Piper orders her coffee, steps aside to wait once she’s paid, and rereads Percy’s texts before she types her reply to Percy.

 Sounds like a dick move.

 Piper’s almost inclined to defend Jason for a moment, since Percy mostly doesn’t pay much attention in class, especially in Mrs. Dodds seminars – so how is Jason meant to know how much effort Percy puts in outside of it? On the other hand, though, Piper knows how Percy is, and how personally he’s clearly taken Jason’s comment already, so trying to convince him otherwise would simply be fruitless.

Once Piper’s coffee is done, she heads back outside, finding an empty bench to enjoy the break before her next class. If nothing else, at least Percy’s ranting is distracting her from Reyna, and the party, and asking the other girl out – and in between the rapid texts Percy and her are sending back and forth Piper almost forgets about it entirely. Until she has to head back to her last class, that is, and sees that Reyna has, so far, still left her on read.

 Piper hesitates for a moment, clicking on the text field without typing anything just yet. Is she going to come off as desperate if she texts again, or should she just clarify now before it gets too late and Reyna already makes different plans for the weekend?

Piper types out a few words, deletes them again and pockets her phone only to get it back out a few seconds later to try again. She shouldn’t be walking and texting, especially given that she should be going faster to actually make it to her lecture in time, but Piper knows that if she doesn’t send this text now, she’ll spend another lecture agonising over what to say.

 So yeah, I wanted to invite you too ofc :)

 Piper cringes at her wording, but figuring it won’t get much better, she sends the text anyway and finally tucks her phone back into her pocket to actually hurry to class.

   By the time Reyna replies, it’s late and Piper is sitting on the beat-up couch in her shared flat’s living room, watching something trashy on TV without really paying much attention at all. Percy is clanking around in the kitchen, making something that smells good enough to remind Piper that she should probably be getting herself some food, too. She’s about to get up and rummage through her fridge compartment in search of something edible when her lock screen lights up with a message from Reyna, and that derails any thoughts of food immediately. Piper isn’t subtle in the way she practically lunges for her phone, but luckily, Percy can’t see and judge her from his position in the kitchen.

 Sorry, long day, reads the first text, following a few seconds later by another one.

Promised Jason to hang out but I’d love to :(

 Piper bites her lip, knowing before typing out the words that Percy won’t like what she’s doing in the slightest.

 You could bring him? Percy won’t mind.

 Except that Percy most certainly will mind, Piper thinks, and grimaces. If she hadn’t come off as desperate before, she most certainly does now – texting back within less than a minute after having been left on read all day, only to offer that Reyna can bring her friend (boyfriend?) along as well if that means she’ll be there.

There’ll be other opportunities, Piper tells herself, and scrubs a hand over her face. She needs to chill, and maybe she needs to grab a cigarette and step outside and calm down before she embarrasses herself even further.

 Piper stares at the screen. How on earth is she meant to interpret this? At this rate, she won’t make it until Saturday, dying of one crisis or another before then.

 if you’re sure? I’ll ask him.

haven’t seen you in a while, would be nice to hang out again ;)

 I’m sure.

#will i continue this? maybe #i do kinda wanna write the party part and have it ending ~spicy~ #pipeyna #piper mclean #reyna ramirez avila arellano #my stuff #my fic #prompts #teen+ #pjo #Anonymous #jercy #in the bg

[hex6rcist]

The original ask for this was accidentally deleted so here it is in a post. The ask was along the lines of: Jin meeting reader when they start a conversation with him out of the blue. They go from friend, to FWB, to a relationship. Can be NSFW. I believe the asker was @slobbynblobby​ 

This ended up way longer than I had thought because I went with a weird format that isn’t really a fic but also isn’t really headcanons? So I hope that’s cool. Hope you enjoy. <3 

TW: Alcohol, nsfw, drunk sex 

WC: 4,200+

Jin x [F!] Reader Developing Relationship

First Meeting

Jin isn’t one to strike up a conversation with strangers in public. If he could help it he would actually avoid speaking in public at all. His tic makes it particularly difficult for him to communicate with anyone who doesn’t know him well enough and can often times embarrass him in public, so he’d rather just keep his mouth shut. 

However he won’t be outright cold to anyone out and about who tries to talk to him. He’ll do his best to give lost strangers directions, he’ll excuse himself if he bumps someone, he’ll thank the person at the checkout counter. He’s not a dick. If anything he can just come off as curt as he tries to keep his ticing to an unoffensive minimum. 

When you sit next to him on the late night train he gives a polite bob of his head but that’s about it. It was never a problem for him if he was brusque in a public setting because no one expected much more. But you sat for a while, fiddling with the end of your shirt and letting your eyes wander around the train. Being late it wasn’t as packed as usual but everyone was still seated close together. Idly you two bump knees. 

Jin draws his knees in closer, eyes shifting over to see if he’d bothered you. He was surprised when you were looking right back at him. Your nose twitched in a way that Jin thought was cute but could have possibly been an indication of disgust. His eyes quickly shifted away and he mumbled a short, “Sorry.” 

You give a small smirk. “Never apologize mister, it’s a sign of weakness.” He’s a little taken aback by the response, unsure of what to say to that. “I take it you’ve never heard of John Wayne huh?” He simply shook his head no and your nose gave another one of those cute twitches. “He’s an American actor form the 1940s. He was in a bunch of these cool western films, ya know the ones about cowboys? And he always plays these tough guys who say cool shit like, ‘Courage is being scared to death, but saddling up anyway.’” You’d struck your best tough guy face and put on a drawl, making Jin chuckle lightly. A little smile plays on your face too. You like his laugh and wanna hear more.    

You chat for so long Jin is actually surprised when the train comes to a halt and you start to grab your things. “Sorry, my stop. It was nice talking to you. Maybe I’ll see you again.” All he can get out is a pretty lame, “Oh, bye.” before you’re gone. In the silence you left him in he’s not sure how to feel. One part of him is glad that he’d gotten through a pretty normal conversation with a perfect stranger on the train. He felt normal which was refreshing. But another part of him wanted to kick himself for not getting your number or at least your name. 

Second Meeting

Jin wouldn’t want to outright admit that he was looking for you but he would say he ended up on that particular train more often than he would have before. The week passes by without a sighting and he comes close to giving up, he’s really starting to feel a little creepy. But that Friday night just before the train was about to depart you slide through the doors before they could close with a relieved sigh. Jin could feel his heart in his throat. Would you even remember him let alone sit by him again? Maybe you were just being polite that night. 

Sure enough when you recognize the cute blonde guy you’d chatted up just last week sitting in the same spot he’d been in before you don’t hesitate to flop down in the space next to him. “Hey there, good to see you again. I realized I didn’t introduce myself before I got off last time and felt so rude. Especially after you let me talk your ear off. I’m y/n!” Jin really couldn’t believe his luck. “I’m Jin.” “No I’m not!”  He flinched slightly at his outburst. Last time he saw you he had been doing well for a while but things tended to change fast with him. Once again Jin noticed your nose crinkle a bit but you ignored his outburst. “Jin, I like that name. It suits you.” 

Just like last time you spend the whole ride chatting. Jin doesn’t let on that he’d come to take this train every night since you met just to see you but you reveal to him that you work the late shift at a bar in Kamino Ward So you always take this train back home on the weekends. He decides that makes sense for you, the kinda girl who starts a conversation with a stranger on the train, to work at a bar. “Why do you take this train?” Obviously he doesn’t want to tell you what his business in that part of the city is so he settles on saying he also works in the area but takes the late train home because he likes to hang out at the bar after work. 

This time when you get up to leave he’s a little more ready, It’s the same stop you got off at last time. “It was nice talking again Jin! You should come by my bar some time. I’ll buy you a drink. I work tomorrow night if you’re interested.” With a little wave he watches you hop off the train. He can’t help but smile the whole way back to his shitty motel. Sure he hadn’t manned up enough to ask for your number yet, but at least now he didn’t have to feel like a stalker. 

Becoming Friends

The night after your second meeting Jin had decided to come and meet you at the bar. He was glad when he realized it was more of a small dive and not one of the clubs with a thrumming bass. This definitely suited him better. Though it was still a Saturday night and the place was kind of packed he was able to find a seat at the end of the bar. When you noticed him you couldn’t help but be excited. “You came!” You made your way to him, cutting your conversation short with another man. You being so excited to see him and the dirty look the guy shot him went to Jin’s head juuuuust a little bit if he was being honest. 

“Okay, okay let me think. I’m so good at guessing what people like to drink so don’t tell me okay!” He gives a short nod, “Alright impress me.” You stand back and act like you’re framing him up in a camera shot while he makes goofy poses. “Mhm, yeah, that’s good, yup. Okay! I got it!” You throw open one of the coolers and pull out the cheapest beer you got before cracking it open and placing it in front of him. “Oh, you are good.” “Whaddaya think I’m cheap?” You giggle and shrug, “Not cheap, just not one for frills, beer is beer.” This time when your nose wrinkles he realized it for what it was, a little tic of your own.

Jin ends up at the bar with you every weekend and every time he comes you’re just as excited as the first. What had started off as a chance meeting on the train turned into a friendship. He loved to watch you work, effortlessly juggling social situations in a way he couldn’t imagine doing. You really were a people person and he just really liked that about you. 

Though his favorite part of the weekend really had to be when the two of you walked to the train together. It was strangely intimate to share such a casual routine with you. And he was glad he could. He really didn’t like the thought of you making the walk to the train on your own that late at night in that part of the city. He knew you could take care of yourself, he’d seen you break up plenty of bar altercations, but he also knew what kind of threats stalked these streets and with your friendly nature he worries someone might lure you in. 

The biggest thing Jin noticed once he spent more time with you is just how damn friendly you could be. You were downright kind in a way he didn’t often see. You were the kind of girl who’d give a bum your last dollar, your last cigarette, and ask about their day. It always took him aback that in a world like this someone as sweet as you could exist. 

FWB

Jin knew he was attracted to you. He knew as soon as he met you. Though if he was being more honest he’d say it wasn’t as much an attraction as it was a crush. You were funny, smart, beautiful, sweet, the whole package really. and he knows he’s not the only one interested. Plenty of other men at the bar vied for your attention, leaving large tips and their phone numbers or leaning over the bar just to get closer to you. It made him glad you never really drank at work. He didn’t want anyone to try and take advantage. 

That’s why he was shocked to see you downing shots with one of your other regulars when he entered the bar one Sunday night. You frantically gesture for him to come join you and the small group of regulars at that end of the bar, opposite where he’d normally sit. He approached shyly. He knew some faces and some names but never chose to interact much with other customers, much preferring your company. But you happily introduced him to the group before revealing it was one of the patron’s birthdays. Later you two would remember this as the night that Jin met party y/n.

Needless to say you all got pretty trashed, buying the birthday boy, Jin, and yourself shots. By the end of the night you had a hard enough time closing up the bar on your own Jin jumped in to help put up chairs and mop while you focused heavily on counting the till and pulling the money you spent past your comp tab out of your tips. 

It really wasn’t until you two had gotten on the train that you both realized how drunk you were. You head lolled onto his shoulder as you two tried to quell fits of giggles, much to the annoyance of the other passengers. When your stop rolled around you both agreed it’d be safest if Jin walked you home. 

At first it didn’t really hit you but the closer you got to home the more you started to think. Should you invite him in? You looked at Jin from the corner of you eye. He wasn’t the only one with a crush. You knew you wanted to invite him in and you were just drunk enough to take the leap. But then how clean was your apartment right now? Did you leave you underwear from this morning on the floor? Is your makeup all over the bathroom counter? All these thoughts abandoned ship however when you reached your door. Jin shifted from foot to foot awkwardly while you fumbled with your keys. Finally you got them in the lock and opened the door. Moment of truth. “You wanna come in?” 

You two were barely through the door when your lips found his. Neither of you was sure who’d leaned in first and neither of you cared. In an instant your hands were all over each other. Groping, caressing, feeling it seemed neither of you could get enough. Your nails raked through his hair and his strong hands had found their way under the hem of your shirt to grab your waist. The feeling of his hands on your bare skin is all it took to finally get the two of you out of the entryway and stumbling towards your room. 

You both laughed lightly as you guided him by the hand through your dark apartment, tripping over nothing and bumping into walls and each other. When you two finally reach your room he’s pleasantly surprised by the way you push him down onto the bed and climb on top of him. He’s almost thankful for his inebriated state and the confidence it gave him. While your lips pressed to his neck, kissing and nipping, his hands found their way to your ass, giving a firm squeeze. 

Both you and Jin eagerly shucked off each other’s clothing. Once you were naked and laying below Jin you couldn’t help but feel just a little shy, cheeks tinting pink. He let his hands glide along the length of your body before they found your hips and squeezed. “You’re so beautiful.” “I’m gonna fuck you so good.” Your lower lip caught between your teeth as Jin lowered his head to start kissing down your stomach, the tickle of his scruff making you giggle. 

Jin settled himself between your legs, his broad shoulders keeping them spread for him. Just before his lips found the spot where you wanted them most he took a detour to nip playfully at your inner thigh. You gave a little yelp your toes curling as you giggled again. “Jin! Don’t tease me.” Not wanting to leave a pretty girl waiting he finally let his tongue lave up the length of your wet cunt, just to get a taste of you. His tongue found it’s way to your clit, circling around the sensitive bud in a way that made you moan. Your head fell back onto your pillow as your thighs squeezed to trap Jin’s head. Not that he minded. His large calloused fingers probed shyly at your entrance, feeling how wet you are from his treatment. He pulled back just long enough to press his fingers to your mouth. You part plush lips to take his fingers in and suck on them. He moaned, the feeling sending a shock though his system. He loved how you looked right then, eyes glazed with lust and his fingers in your mouth. He slowly thrust them in and out, letting you get them nice and prepped before he couldn’t wait any more. “Good girl.” “You’re such a slut.” Eagerly Jin returned to his spot between your thighs. He gave himself the privilege of watching one of his fingers enter your tight pussy. Even though it was only his fingers he couldn’t stop the satisfied sigh that fell form his lips before he went back to your clit. 

Jin made sure you were well and satisfied before finally standing and pulling you to the edge of the bed. He gave his achingly hard dick a few stroked before slowly pushing it inside you. “Oh fuck!” The way your thighs quivered and your voice hitched was enough to drive him crazy. He wanted nothing more than to pound into you but he held it together. He wanted you to enjoy it as much as him. He locked eyes with you and let his hands cup your face. He thrust slow and hard, groaning softly. “You feel so fucking good, y/n.” “I wanna make you scream for me.” Jin’s cock stretched you so good you could only reply in small whimpers and moans. Your hand found the back of Jin’s head pulling him so close your foreheads touch before you lock lips in a heated kiss. 

When you finally adjust your legs wrap tightly around his hips and you press yourself farther into him. Jin gladly takes the cue and his hips begin to move at a brutal pace. The first hard thrust arches your back and rips a loud moan from you. He sits up, one hand pinning your hips to the bed and the other rubbing unrelenting circles on your clit. You’ve only just started and you can already feel an intense orgasm rippling through your body, making your legs tremble. The feeling of your pussy clenching around him only spurred Jin on further. 

The next morning Jin’s head was pounding. He squinted against the harsh light of the sun and buried his face into your chest. ‘... Wait...’ He shot up with a small gasp before looking around the room. It took him a moment to remember exactly what happened last night but the pieces slowly clicked together. He looked down at your still naked form, snoring softly next to him. He slowly lowered himself back down, laying on his side. He brushed your hair out of your face and took in your sleeping face. 

After that night you two had an admittedly awkward morning. You made coffee and some greasy breakfast food to quell your monster hangovers but you couldn’t ignore what had happened the night before. You also couldn’t ignore the lingering touches and eye contact between you two. Finally after eating and getting a few cups of coffee down Jin trapped you between his body and the kitchen counter. His fingers raked through your hair before cupping your cheek. Any resolve you had to not do this again was quickly replaced by need as you pull Jin in for a deep kiss. 

It would go on like this for the next 3 months. Stumbling back to your apartment on drunken nights, stealing kisses in alleyways, playful pinches and squeezes. You two had both tried to stop what was happening but you just couldn’t keep your hands off of each other after that first night. You’d both agreed to enjoy whatever this casual sexual relationship was for now. You were having fun and there was no reason to read too much into it. 

Relationship

“Hey Jin you going to see your girlfriend? When do we get to meet her?” Toga’s questions threw him through a loop. ‘Girlfriend.’ The word made him nervous but excited. And well at this point he really wouldn’t say that you weren’t his girlfriend. Neither of you was really sure when it happened, but it just dawned on you both one day that things had just gotten more serious. Nights of stumbling back to your apartment to hook up turned slowly into walking home hand in hand to watch a movie on the couch. You now cooked more meals together instead of just breakfast. Hot, passionate kisses turned to slow, sweet smooches. In the end though neither of you minded all that much. It was nice. Comfortable. “Yeah I am.” “You’ll never meet her!” 

That night when Jin met you at the bar he found it hard to keep his heartbeat steady. That word just wouldn’t leave his mind, ‘girlfriend.’ You crack open a beer and place it in front of him before leaning over the bar to press a chaste kiss to his lips. It had become more common for you to greet him with little kisses and sweet hugs. That had to mean you felt the same right? You were both on the same page? 

At the end of the night it took all of Jin’s courage. But once the bar was closed down and you two was sharing one last beer in the dim light he decided now was the best time. “Y/n, you know how I feel about you right?” Your nose crinkled in the way he loved and your cheeks flushed. “I think I have a pretty good idea...” Jin nodded, “Good because I want us to be on the same page. I want you to be my girlfriend.” God that word made your heart flutter. You wrap your arms around his neck and lean in for a sweet kiss. “Mmh, I like the sound of that.” 

Dating Jin most days was like a dream. He was handsome, funny, and loving. He wanted nothing more than to make you happy and you wanted to do the same for him. In a lot of ways he surprised you. A healthy and loving relationship wasn’t an easy find these days. That being said you knew Jin had his problems, you did too. No one was perfect. You two had a long discussion about what exactly to do when Jin had one of his episodes and that’s when he showed you his mask. If he was going to be with you he wanted to be honest. Finding out about the League was a hard pill to swallow but one you were willing to take. You had your own issues with the way this superhuman society was canted and you could understand why Jin did what he did. But it made you worry for him, not just for his physical safety but his emotional wellbeing too.

Jin had decided that the best way to make you feel better about the situation would be to introduce you to the league. They had really become his family and so had you. He figured if you could see firsthand what kind of support he had it’d put you at ease. So that’s how you ended up hanging out in an abandoned bar with some of Japan’s most wanted criminals. It was a little uncomfortable at first but the setting was familiar to you. Your attitude quickly put everyone at ease, and seeing Jin so happy definitely helped. 

Toga was probably the quickest to take to you. She was a romantic after all and she really felt that you and Jin were a perfect match. And you were so cute too! A little fact that didn’t escape Dabi’s attention. He made sure to give Jin a good clap on the back for that though he otherwise seemed uninterested in you. The others regarded you politely but with apprehension. Jin could be a little too trusting for a villain sometimes. Though no one would deny that you were a very cute couple, other than a disgruntled Shigaraki who’d only really agreed to this so Toga would stop asking. 

 After the first meeting Jin’s life fell into a kind of weird harmony. He moved out of his shitty motel and into your small apartment. He liked not hiding anything from you and feeling completely accepted for who he was. He knew his life would never be normal or peaceful but this was fulfilling, and that’s all a guy like him could ever ask for.  

#jin bubaigawara #jin bubaigawara x reader #twice #twice x reader #twice bnha #bnha imagines #bnha headcanons #bnha scenarios

[fiction-allows]

Washington Square (Laurel/Hardy, 4800 words, PG-13)

For @theempressar and @stanxollie - a little Valentine from me to you! mostly fluffy L&H fic. thank you for all the fun we’ve had :D

warnings: PG-13 for a paragraph of noncon, period typical language and conceptions of gender, flexes the grittier style of their early works

This was inspired by stanxollie’s great retelling of Why Girls Love Sailors, where the drag queen gets the guy in the end. :p I hope you enjoy. question mark.

It was closing time when he stumbled on the kerb and took a dive off his heels. He laughed it off and quickly flashed the green silk hem of his dress up over his bloomers, to give the drunks a little show - all part of the joke, keep walking. He didn’t want their sweaty hands on his silk. He didn't need help, he needed shoes that fit - he climbed to his feet, righted his ringlet wig that had slouched over his eyes - he needed hat pins, too; a box didn't last long when all the jennies he lived with helped themselves. He straightened himself up and squared his shoulders. Fierce. It was only three in the morning. What was he going to do with himself?

He had a dime in his pocket. Maury hadn't paid his talent up, and wouldn't until next week. 

He wasn’t talent, anyway. He was incidental entertainment, called on when one of the girls was too drunk to perform. The rest of the time he was hanging around the tables, cracking jokes and flouncing. When the molls wanted to use the powder room, he escorted them and kept them laughing. 

It wasn’t exactly a career, was it, Stanny boy?

Maybe he should find something, someone, anything, anywhere else. The city bit shit in the winter. He could go to Union Station and talk his way onto a handsome dame’s ticket, headed for California. He could stow himself in a bunk, bundle up and sleep, and stay there until they crossed the Rockies.

He tripped again, which brought the daydreams to a halt. Stan pulled his fur wrap tighter around his bare shoulders and took serious stock. He had enough for breakfast if he didn't eat tonight. He could get warm if he went to the train station. He couldn't go home, it was Lonnie's night to use the room for sheepshead. She’d be good for dinner tomorrow. His stomach told him that was worth a night in the cold. 

He straggled behind the foot traffic down the sidewalk toward State. He stopped to bum a cigarette from Lady Godiva, who answered to Herbert during the workweek, and they stood under the dark coffee shop’s awning exchanging a few pleasantries about the weather, shoes, who’d been locked up in yesterday night’s raid on the park. 

“Never do it in the bushes,” Lady Godiva said sagely, and Stan nodded with equal sagacity, and his wig slipped down over his eyes again. 

Godiva reached into her velvet purse. “Honey, here.” 

Now he had a dime and a few bobby pins in his pocket. He was about to move on, when Lady Godiva gave him another nod. “Honey - there.” 

Stan turned to look. A big man had come up the street, contra-traffic. The slight weave in his step said he'd been turned out from one of the other night clubs. He had stopped when he heard Stan and the Lady talking, and was examining some graffiti on the side of the brick building with intense interest.

Some background might help: Lady Godiva was the world’s foremost expert on the identification and classification of men and males who wanted something and were willing to pay for it. 

Not that this fellow was easy to miss: Towertown was full of girls in trousers and boys in skirts, big boned frames in dainty dresses and elfin gals with impeccable Windsor knots, and he was planted on the sidewalk in a white sailor's uniform like a bull moose in the headlights. A bull moose trying to make itself look like part of the furniture. He had looked up insouciant in the dictionary, but accidentally read the entry for awkward.

Background, part two: Lady Godiva was good at matching fighters by their weight class. She knew exactly how hopeless Stan was at the game - but this one was a nice soft target. A practice dummy, if you will.

Stan, in a completely inarticulate way, had reached the same conclusion. The guy must weigh eighteen stone if he was an ounce, but he was trying to look smaller than he was in his white uniform. His age was hard to pin down, because he looked travelled, but not even the side profile could hide the baby fullness of his face. 

To Stan, he looked like an absolute lamb.

Someone else would take advantage in a minute. There was Esme, poised outside the walk-up to her john’s apartment, watching the dispersing crowds go by. She was clocking the lamb too. She caught Stan’s eye, gave him a sly smile, and the race was on.

Stan moved to head her off. He stepped into the man’s shadow, and touched the blue-braided sleeve of his jacket.

"You lost, baby?” Stan asked. 

The big boy jumped. He turned away from the public art and glanced Stan up and down. Then again, a double-take that Stan didn’t take personal. An awkward, innocent fluster of hands, fingers, a scrunched nervous grin, followed the mad goggling yo-yo of his eyes. "I seem to have t-taken a wrong turn." 

He stuttered. He had weeping willows and southern charm in his voice. He was a little drunk. Oh, honey.

“Where’re you headed?” Stan laid his hand flat on the man’s arm. Behind them, Esme hissed and faded back into the night.

The man was suddenly mannequin-like with uncertainty. “Not far.”

“Then I’ll walk you,” Stan decided for them both. “What’s your name?”

“Oliver.”

Stan smiled, twined Oliver’s arm with his. “Are you from around here, Oliver?”

“My room’s on Division Street.”

“Originally,” Stan clarified, as he gently pulled Oliver to get him moving up the sidewalk. Stan felt a rush of heat from him as Oliver blushed. 

“Georgia,” Oliver said quietly.

“Georgia. Peaches. Wonderful. Don’t look at them.” A hail of whistles as they turned the corner, some of Esme’s mates. It wasn’t often that Stan hooked such a big one. Stan stuck out his tongue behind Oliver’s back. More jeers. He crushed Oliver’s arm against his ribs and drew him away northeast.

It was only a few blocks, but the crowds thinned out fast as they left Washington Square. The nightlife faded to sniffing junkies and unlucky panhandlers, and the sidewalk was empty by the time they reached the four-story boarding house Oliver was calling home.

“Well… here’s mine,” Oliver said, feebly.

ROOMS FOR RENT - LONG TERM, said the optimistic sign propped on the window ledge of the ground floor. The place looked fleabitten, like it had mange. But Stan looked enviously at the glowing windows. They were nearer the lake and the wind picked up an extra bite off the water, and he was losing feeling in his toes. Then he looked at Oliver, whose arm was still in his.

The moment to clinch or cut loose had arrived. There was an awkward pause, because neither of them knew exactly what happened next, when it was a bloke from Georgia and a bloke in a dress.

“Do you want to come in?” Oliver asked. His tone was smoother, now that the walk had cleared his head.

Stan smiled dumbly. He was feeling shy. He had come this far, hadn’t he? Come on, Stan, say something. But he was frozen, and it wasn’t the temperature. “I...”

“You don’t have to,” Oliver said, with a painfully gallant smile. 

He sounded relieved. And Stan felt hurt, and suddenly piercingly lonely, which broke the impasse just a moment too late. The opportunity had closed in his face while he was tongue-tied.

Oliver extracted his arm, then stuck out his hand for a shake. “Take care, then.”

Stan reached for his hand, feeling all at once like he wanted to cry. The night was dark and… big. He nodded miserably and took Oliver’s hand.

Oliver winced as their bare palms touched. “What are you, cold blooded? Some kind of salamander? Why are you so cold?”

“I don’t -” Stan stammered. 

“Where’s your place?” Oliver demanded.

Another gawping shrug, as Stan tried to make sense of the sudden veer in the conversation. It was like Oliver had dropped him in a bottle and spun it. “Can’t go there,” Stan said helplessly.

“What? Why not? You know what - forget it. Get in here.” Oliver shooed him up the steps and to the door, and pounded on it. 

Stan panicked. “Wait, what do we tell -”

“You tell him you’re my sister from Savannah.” 

Stan had a minute to get into character before the landlord answered. He grunted when Stan fluttered his eyelashes and claimed to be a sister from Savannah, but he let them in, and harrumphed back to bed without comment. 

And that is how they ended up in a room no bigger than a very small room, with a bed, a cupboard, a stand and basin, and Oliver’s work clothes inexpertly washed and hung to dry over the light fixtures and radiator. He was using a pair of his long johns as a sort of makeshift shade over the room’s single drooping window. There was a palpable draft about shin-height due to the sagging window frame, like wading through ankle-biting ghosts.

Oliver sprung into action playing host, scooping his grease-splattered overalls off the radiator to let some warm air into the room, hiding his underpants by kicking them under the bed, and then he offered to take Stan’s wrap, and Stan let him take it and hang it, like the most pathetic garland in the world, on the hook on the back of the door.

“Won’t you sit down?” Oliver asked with exaggerated politeness, indicating the bed. 

Stan sat, crossed his legs, brushed down his silky dress, subtly hiked it up a few inches on the upstroke.

“What about you?” Stan asked, with a put-on high-pitched giggle and wiggle. 

Oliver was undoing his neckerchief. He glanced at Stan in the mirror propped above the wash basin. “I’m fine. I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“The floor?” Stan asked, in his babygirl voice.

“You take the bed. Bathroom’s down the hall. Don’t steal my money, will you? If you’re good, I’ll buy you breakfast tomorrow.”

Stan’s legs uncrossed, his heeled foot fell to the floorboards with a shocked little stomp. “You brought me up here to… sleep?” He forgot the pitch of his voice in his surprise.

“It’s miserable out there,” Oliver said. He slid his collar stay out, dropped it on the stand, and started on his top button. “Throw me one of them pillows, will ya?”

Stan hopped off the bed. He grabbed a pillow, and handed it to Oliver. Oliver fluffed it between his big hands, then dropped it unceremoniously onto the floor. 

“I’ll wrinkle my dress if I sleep in it,” Stan said. The femme was back, and she was distressed. He clutched at his neckline in dismay.

Oliver’s eyebrows knit together. He raised one slightly as he appraised Stan. “You do one nice thing,” he groused, though his heart wasn’t in it. “There’s a clean nightshirt in the cupboard. You can borrow it.”

Stan opened the cupboard and grabbed it. He excused himself to the bathroom down the hall. 

When he returned, heels and wig in hand, dress over his arm, clad in an entire circus tent’s worth of nightshirt that billowed around him like topsails, Oliver was prone on the floor, head on the pillow, one of the blankets primly tucked over him. Looked for all the world like he really meant to spend the night right there. His eyes were closed. Could he already be asleep?

Stan crept into the room quiet as a mouse.

“It occurs to me I didn’t catch your name,” Oliver said. He wasn’t asleep at all.

“Stan,” Stan said, flatly. He had shed the girl with the wig and heels. He supposed a man was better suited if this was a set-up to a murder. He placed his shoes on the floor, hung the wig next to his wrap, and stole a hanger to keep his dress looking tidy in the cupboard overnight. 

Oliver was watching him through slitted eyes. Stan knew he must look a sight with his short unkempt hair, the five o’clock shadow on his cheeks, the huge nightshirt with sleeves that slipped down to his fingertips. He smiled apologetically. “Sometimes you take a lady home, and you get something else.”

“Nice to meet you, Stan,” Oliver said. “Go to sleep.” 

Stan crawled into bed. He flailed and paddled in the huge nightgown, and finally found his hands again to pull the covers up. He looked at Oliver again, on the floor in the draft, and he shivered in commiseration. He cleared his throat. “You know, it’s foolish to sleep on the floor. You’ll catch your death.” 

“I’m fine.”

“Don’t be stupid, come up here.”

Was that a chatter of Oliver’s teeth? Oliver grunted, threw an arm over his eyes as if that would shut Stan up. 

“I promise no funny business,” Stan insisted. He was getting worried. He couldn’t possibly go to sleep himself if Oliver slept on the floor. The thought of it made him utterly miserable. Tears pricked his eyes. “Please don’t catch your death.”

The arm came away from Oliver’s eyes, and his expression was that of a man who has ended up in an enclosure at the zoo - not the lion enclosure, or the gorilla enclosure, but perhaps the penguin enclosure, and they’re pecking at his knees. “You’re a weird one, aren’t you.” 

Stan nodded honestly, still fighting tears. 

Oliver sat up. Then he held out his hand, and felt the ice cold draft flowing in from the window. 

He gathered up his pillow and blanket and threw them at Stan on the bed. “Move over.” 

Stan swam through his nightshirt toward the wall, and Oliver heaved himself onto the mattress. They settled, an elbow apart, after a little burrowing and tug of war over the coverlet. Silence ticked by for a few moments, as they both got used to the sensation. The weight pulling at both sides of the mattress, their body heat starting to pool together under the covers.

Stan sniffed away the last of his tears. He folded his hands over the coverlet in satisfaction. “There. Isn’t this better.”

“Who lets you out on your own?” Oliver asked in disbelief. But he already sounded sleepy.

Stan was fading fast, too. He yawned. “It’s Lonnie’s night to use the flat for sheepshead.” 

“Sheepshead.” Oliver snorted. 

“Goodnight, Ollie.” 

He heard a breathy chuckle. Oliver - Ollie - liked it. “Goodnight, Stan.”

* * * 

Stan fell to sleep and commenced a light snore, cocooned in Ollie's nightshirt. Oliver crossed his arms under the bedclothes and tried to ignore the predicament. Stan had still been wearing his - her pantyhose, and her hose-clad toes were scratching at his shin. She hadn't scrubbed all the perfume off. There was a flowers-and-musk scent trapped with their heat in the blankets.

Oliver, my boy, you need to get a hold of yourself. You wouldn't take advantage of a lady. 

Whatever Stan was, exactly. 

Adrift, it seemed to Oliver. 

He kicked Stan’s foot back toward his side of the bed, blew the air from his nose and closed his eyes. 

* * * 

The sun was shining cheerfully through the union suit when they woke up. At breakfast, Ollie watched Stan pack away a pound of home fries, four eggs, two rounds of bacon and a stack of pancakes. He ate like he hadn’t been fed in a month. 

He was a pretty normal fella over the breakfast table, even in the dress. Well - not fully normal, the way he put sugar on his eggs, but Ollie let it slide. He was funny, and he thought Ollie was funny, which tickled Ollie right in the cockles of his pride. 

Stan listened with rapt interest when Ollie talked about the merchant marines and where he had been, and the convoys during the War. He got that doe-eyed look that dames did when Ollie got on the subject (though Ollie neglected to tell him he had, in fact, been a cook), which also tickled Ollie in a way he couldn’t explain. It made him want to flex his arms and look big. 

Three stacks of pancakes between them later, Ollie paid the check and they stepped out onto the sidewalk.

 "I have to report," Ollie said. "You might want to head home and ah -" He swiped his cheeks and chin with his palm.

Stan nodded. His whiskers needed sanding. The waitress had stared at him a little.

Ollie was staring at him, too. His eyes were sparkling. 

“Come to Maury’s some time,” Stan said. “You can see me work. I’ll be there every night this week.”

“I’d like that,” Ollie said, but Stan couldn’t tell if it was a punt or a promise. 

Ollie tipped his hat. “See you around, doll," he said. 

Stan flashed him an angelic smile. 

* * * 

No Ollie on Wednesday. No Ollie on Thursday. Not that Stan was anticipating. His tips were suffering, though; he wasn’t quite as funny when he was distracted. The mobsters didn’t trust a freak who wasn’t also a clown, and their girls didn’t like a downer. It was hard to be charming when every bigger guy who walked in the place sent a little jolt from his scalp down to his knees. But they always were too - something. Too rich, too crude, too repressed or too married. Their greatest crime, of course, is that none of them were Ollie.

Monday came again, and Maury didn’t pay him, even when he filled in for Bernadette a few times over the weekend.  

He needed money to eat, though. And for a ticket out of here, since it looked like he was back on his own.

Best way to make a quick buck? Well, Lady Godiva could tell you.

It started civilly enough on Tuesday night in the alley behind the club. The dumpsters made for convivial surroundings, and the romance was palpable as the rats scurried away from their twirling feet and the single bulb above the back door fizzled in its socket. The man was sweaty with beer and wanted to dance, sort of a swaying grabbing twisting motion - suddenly Stan had his chin elbows and knees up against the brick wall of the alley, and a hairy steel beam of a forearm across the back of his neck. Stan protested, with a giggle that was high with alarm. That big body ground against his and he ground into the dirty bricks. He clawed a little to get some purchase to shove back.

“Hey, wait, wait,” he protested, and that got him dragged around to face the guy, who didn’t look very keen on waiting. 

A few things went through Stan’s mind. One, he didn’t want to be here. Two, he wished he wasn’t. Three, his heels gave him a little extra height but the guy still had half a head on him, and four, this large drunk man was going to be shocked in a minute if his hand kept going - and that is a very specific kind of fear, the fear of being found out by an angry grasping hand in the dark. It vitalizes.

Stan struck back at him and gave a shout. 

And like a miracle, he heard an answering "Hey!" 

It might have been an angel. It was a big voice, if not very deep - but it was alarm enough to get the hand out from under his skirt. 

Stan took the opportunity to use a knee, and the man folded up like an ironing board. 

Stan looked up and there was - 

Ollie's shoulders filled the alley almost wall to wall as he came toward them. He swept the scene, the man crouched on the ground retching, Stan’s disarray and his heaving chest. 

His hand stretched out to Stan. "Come along - he can’t hurt you - well done." 

Stan took the offered hand and stepped over the gasping, sputtering heap. He slipped by between Ollie's double-breasted jacket and the brick wall, and heard Ollie give the guy a kick for good measure. 

On the sidewalk, Ollie brushed off his mink and repositioned it on Stan's shoulders. There was a run in his hose from the scrapes on his knees. His mascara was smudged up like two black batwing eyes. Ollie pressed his handkerchief into Stan's hand so he could clean himself up.

"Did he hurt you?"

Stan shook his head.

"Good. I'd go back and kill him." Ollie removed his coat because it was the gallant thing to do, and draped it around Stan’s shoulders. 

"Where have you been?" Stan asked. He didn’t want the coat - he was still hot from adrenaline, and mad at Ollie for abandoning him - but he grabbed it and pulled it tight around him all the same.

"What? Oh - they sent me to Omaha to pick up a load. Just got back into town tonight." 

Ollie looked so perfectly, sweetly innocent. Completely guileless. Just concerned for his friend, and very handsome in his dark suit. 

"Oh," Stan said.

"I’m sorry I didn’t make your show. I left a note at the boardinghouse."

"Oh," Stan said again.

Ollie's voice was very gentle. "Were you waiting for me?"

Stan nodded.

"I'm here now. Come on, let me walk you home."

Stan folded the kerchief shakily. ' 'I can't. Sheep-"

"Sheepshead, I know." 

They ended up back at the boarding house, together, Stan with his face scrubbed clean, snuggled in the crook of his arm sleeping soundly, as Ollie propped a book on his chest and read in the pink and orange glow of the jewel-papered lamp. 

This was nice, Ollie thought, looking away from the book to the window. Snow was hissing against the glass like an angry cat, but it was warm, Stan was snoring softly. It was nice. 

Stan exhaled, blowing the pages of Ollie’s book, sending him back some pages. Ollie thumbed forward to his place. Stan exhaled again. They fluttered back. And so on. Eventually, Ollie turned out the light and went to sleep. 

* * * 

They had fun. Stan left Maury’s club and found a job at a boutique, giving all of the broad-shouldered ladies and theydies advice and helping them find the right fit. Ollie put in for a couple months of shore leave, and for a while it was easy street. Sometimes they played darts, drank beer, argued, rode the L until they were sober enough to remember their stop. They went to the lake front and laid on the grass and teased the stone lions in front of the art institute. 

Sometimes Stan slipped on his little black dress and his heels and made Ollie prove he deserved him. Those were the days Ollie turned into a gentleman. Doors opened as if by magic, never an inconvenience to be seen. Kisses on his knuckles as if they were perfect, delicate strings of pearls, a hand possessively on his swishless hips as if to say, I got you. 

I get you.

Stan took Ollie to his first drag ball. Ollie was a hit in his best suit. He was easy to like and even easier to love. On the floor he lead with such a light-footed agility that Stan sometimes had trouble keeping up, and every one of the drag queens tried to budge in for their turn. It was a matter of feminine pride, wasn’t it, to try to ride the bull. Stan let them play, because at the end of the night, it was always him and Ollie. Stan belonged here, and Ollie belonged to him. 

And the clock ticked on. The stuttering from the Stock Exchange, so far away, became a rumble, became an avalanche. Towertown - like Greenwich, Times Square, like Camden, like babylon Berlin - was a dream, a fleeting Camelot that couldn't last. The crackdowns on public disease - of the flesh and of the spirit - closed the fairyland clubs and scattered the communes. The dreamer was stirring. The pendulum swung to the right, picking up momentum as the glory of glitz-and-jazz became hunger and want. Markets crashed and the soil turned to dust.

They skipped out of Chicago when Ollie’s shore leave was up. They tramped through the upper midwest on the bus routes, St Paul, Fargo, Duluth, as far as Bismark and back again to Cleveland, and then all the way out west to California. The horizons were dark, the faces in the street were drawn. Shangri-La faded into sopping wet socks, holes in their jackets, and odd jobs. 

History lurched from the sickly sleepwalk of hunger into a waking nightmare of war machines and atomic death, into bodies piled in camps and on the streets of Stalingrad and the tide lines of Normandy, and souls suddenly unmade by a flash in the sky. All this played out in the papers as he and Ollie scraped and saved and wandered the home front. Stan’s youth faded, too, he wilted and widened and wrinkled, and the only grace was his ill-fitting jacket hid some of it even from himself. 

* * * 

1955. They lived. They saw the war end, the men come home, and the prefab suburbs start stamping across the landscape. Eisenhower and his administration drew big bold lines across the nation and decided to pay for them with a gasoline tax. The commies took up residence under American beds, and the homosexuals fell back to the closets for self-preservation. They were good days for the nuclear family and a straightjacket for everyone else. 

Speaking of straightjackets - in the new atmosphere, Stan felt more and more like he needed one. 

The suit had never fit exactly right, but sometimes, it didn't fit at all. Then - in secret - he opened his battered case and pulled out the things he kept under the false bottom, fake gems and wrinkled velvet, and tried to breathe free, if only for a moment, in a strictured world.

He tried to keep it private, so as not to embarrass Ollie, not to shame him in front of his friends. America was bestride the world, the least Stan could do was keep up appearances in their little sphere of the second-hand antique shop (VERY OLD THINGS - Laurel and Hardy --- Proprietors). 

They had dinner tonight with some of Ollie’s new friends from the local Charitable Brothers lodge. He had been strangled for air all day… he didn’t want to go there looking like this, with his suit coat and shirt and the trousers that Ollie had pressed so nicely. It wasn’t… him. The thought of playing that masquerade all night… he was tired, he couldn’t do it. 

He held up the dress.

It was hopelessly out of fashion now. It smelled like he had packed everything from shoe polish to ham sandwiches on top of it. But he smoothed it out, put the stiff wrap around his shoulders, shook the last drops of perfume from the vial and dabbed them behind his ears. He strung the pearls around his neck and smiled at himself in the mirror. 

The pearls had lost their lustre, and his teeth showed another twenty-some years of coffee and cigarettes when he smiled. The smile quickly faded.

"Are you ready yet?" Ollie demanded, barging heavily into the bedroom, hat on his head and impatient.

He stopped short when he saw how Stan was gazing at the mirror, the haunted look in his eyes.

Ollie took off his hat. 

"I'm sorry -" Stan looked at the old bag in the mirror. "I'll change."

Ollie crossed the room and stood behind him, gazing over his shoulder into the glass. "Why? You look wonderful."

Stan snorted.

Ollie reached for his hand, pulled on it to turn Stan toward him. "As beautiful as the day I met you." He kissed Stan's knuckles with a bow and flourish. Returned Stan's hand to his side. Then spun one finger in the air. "Turn around, I'll do you up."

Stan put a hand over his mouth as Ollie's fingers crept down his back, then pulled the edges of the dress together and slipped the buttons into their holes. One by one, up his spine until the clasp at his collar, and Ollie put his hands on Stan's shoulders.

"Don't cry," Ollie said, gently.

Stan dropped his hand. He was grinning. He spun and hugged Ollie to him tight. He reached up to grasp his chin, turned his face, and give him a firm kiss on the cheek. 

Ollie kissed his forehead. "There you are. Come on, we'll be late.

* * * 

Shuffle the cards. Masculine, feminine, man, woman, Mars, Venus, two houses and a trench and barbed wire and the guard towers of convention in between. He lived in no-one's land in between, bombarded from both sides - and then Ollie had stumbled across him, stuck his head over the lip of the trench and called him doll, eyes sparkling. He recognized a fellow outcast, a fellow question without an answer.

They got out of the cab. 

Stan felt warm lips catch the cool metal of his dangling earring against his neck, and he shuddered. Ollie's hand squeezed his. It didn't matter if people stared. Let them.

“Who’s this?”

Ollie’s hand on the small of his back. "This is my wife." No shame and no joke. Daring the world to doubt it.

#don't like don't read etc

[mithranqueersmusings]

The Night Before I

Chapter: 1/15

Rating: U

Summary: Ringo hangs around after the club closes and meets a stranger.

Tags: Eventual Smut

Pairing: George Harrison/Ringo Starr

AO3 link here / Fic masterlist here

The night was coming to an end, whether Ringo wanted it to or not. John and Paul had left half an hour ago, and as the club's inhabitants gradually thinned Ringo began cursing himself for not taking the opportunity to share an Uber home. Yet he still felt determined to stay clinging to the bar until the staff would have to force him to leave. This had become a common occurrence as of late, Ringo clinging on desperately to the end of every single night out as though it would provide anything at all. Despite all his attempts to go home with somebody, anybody, there didn't seem to be a single person remotely interested. Perhaps a change of scenery would've helped, but he'd been coming to this club for as long as he could remember; the music was good, the drinks were cheap, and the men were relatively good looking, what more could he ask for?

Taking a final sip of his vodka-coke, Ringo looked around the dimly lit room in a last attempt to find someone to go home with. He knew he wasn't looking his best, his stubble grown far beyond looking rugged and bordering on sloppy, his flimsy pair of sunglasses resting on the collar of his shirt with a spillage stain clear to see. Everyone else in the room seemed to have the same idea, preying eyes tracing the walls as each person waited for someone else to make the next move. It was rather depressing really, a bunch of men desperately clinging on to the hope that someone would find them moderately attractive enough to fuck them once and never see them again. What kind of romance was that? Ringo let out a soft laugh at the thought, shaking his head as he decided it was probably best to slink home than embarrass himself trying to flirt. Paul and John seemed to have it so easy, like they were made for one another, and here Ringo was struggling to even get a second date from a guy.

Ringo heard the fateful words that signalled the closing of the bar, only giving him about half an hour before the whole place shut down too. Letting out a sigh, he turned his back to the bar and leaned against it, taking one last glance around the desolate space before putting his sunglasses on and heading towards the exit. The cold air stung his once warm face, he pulled his jacket tighter to his body in an attempt to keep some heat. Outside the club were various scenes of debauchery: girls toppling around in their high heels barely able to remain upright, teenagers throwing up in the gutter, men sprawling with one another any chance they got. It was pretty pitiful, but Ringo loved it in a way. It was just so familiar. A small smile spread on his lips as he took out a cigarette to light, he knew better than to try and get an Uber at this time - he'd lost enough money with the rush hour - so he decided to wait it out until everything calmed down before he shamelessly made his way back home. Few people had the same idea, everyone was rushing around after taxis or trying to get signal on their phones, Ringo couldn't help but feel a little smug to have seen this situation coming a mile away. The sounds of the city were calming to him, even the crisp coldness of the air was refreshing.

"Bum a cig?" A voice broke Ringo's fragile serenity, one belonging to someone he didn't recognise.

Ringo managed to hide how startled he'd been, evidently he hadn't realised how much the alcohol had been dulling his senses. With his sunglasses on it was hard to tell exactly what he was looking at, but the voice certainly wasn't familiar.

"Sorry?" Ringo replied, suddenly feeling far drunker than before.

The voice chuckled "Can I have a fag?"

"Oh... Yeah, sure." Ringo fumbled around in his pockets for the packet, then offered them to the stranger.

Cigarette in mouth, they waited for Ringo to spark the lighter which had become an impossible task. He wished he'd lied from the beginning because this was just getting embarrassing.

"Stupid fucking thing." Ringo mumbled, his anger growing as the stranger's presence felt heavier and heavier.

The stranger chuckled once more then moved Ringo's hands gently away so that they could bring their face closer, managing to light the cigarette from Ringo's own without much trouble. For a moment Ringo didn't think they were going to pull away and he felt his heart quickening, but they soon did and leaned against the wall beside him casually.

"You here alone then?" They asked, Ringo began trying to guess what they looked like from their voice alone.

"That obvious is it?" Ringo envisioned someone younger than himself, their voice was certainly attractive but that didn't necessarily mean they would be.

"Sunglasses give it away." They replied curtly, their accent was fairly thick "Can you even see in them?"

The stranger lowered themselves slightly so that they could stare directly into Ringo's eyes, or at least where he assumed they would be. Ringo let out a short laugh and took another drag from his cigarette, what was this guy's aim exactly?

"Not really." Ringo cleared his throat "There's some things I'd rather not see on nights like this."

"Fair enough. Makes pulling easier, I bet." They rested their foot on the wall, the longer Ringo stared the more he could discern a faint outline of their body.

"If it did would I be standing here at 4 in the morning?" Ringo chuckled, exhaling smoke.

The man laughed in response but said nothing else. A silence fell over them for a few minutes, nothing but the bustling sound of the city gradually emptying itself. For the first time in his life Ringo cursed his signature choice of wearing sunglasses, not knowing what this stranger looked like could prove rather detrimental. Whether they were trying to make a move or not, Ringo wasn't sure he was desperate enough to fuck somebody whose face was a mystery. Taking in another deep breath of smoke, he debated a smooth strategy of getting his glasses off without being too obvious. If their voice was anything to go off, they sounded rather attractive, but that was hardly enough. Unfortunately the types who tended to hang around after clubs closed down weren't often the nicest things to look at, all the good-looking ones had gone off with their equally attractive partners hours ago.

"Don't suppose you're headed to an afters." The man finally spoke again, taking Ringo a little by surprise as he'd become so preoccupied with his thoughts.

"If you count heading home and passing out on the bathroom floor an afters, then sure." Ringo flicked his cigarette away into the gutter and slid his cold hands into his pockets.

"Probably a sign to call it a night then." He spoke softly but didn't move from Ringo's side just yet.

Ringo grew impatient, it was now or never, no matter how many ideas floated around in his mind he couldn't think of a non-obvious way to take his sunglasses off so he just pulled them down the ridge of his nose as casually as he could manage. Only moving his eyes and not his head, he finally caught a glimpse of the stranger: dark, shaggy hair and a sharp face. Maybe it was the alcohol skewing his vision, but the man looked absolutely stunning. This was the deciding moment, if he messed this up the chance would be gone and he'd be going home alone for yet another time - it had gone beyond counting. Whether this guy was far beyond his league or not, Ringo just had to try, he wasn't afraid of a little rejection if the potential reward was so sweet.

"I know a place that might still be open." Ringo blurted out a little too desperately, trying to maintain his composure "It's a little dodgy but you can't really be picky at this hour."

"Oh yeah?" The man turned to face him, and Ringo thanked the support of the wall for preventing his knees from buckling "Is it close?"

It took Ringo a moment to think of a coherent answer, this man really was beautiful. Exactly why he was bothering talking to some aged alcoholic like himself, he'd never know, but he wasn't about to spoil this golden opportunity. He was just about drunk enough to have the confidence to back himself, even if it didn't work out maybe he could seek somebody out in the next joint, but that was really scraping the bottom of the barrel.

"We can walk it, it's just a couple of streets down." Ringo took a step away from the wall then feared he looked too enthusiastic.

"Sounds good, lead the way." The man said with a smile "I'm George, if you were wondering."

Ringo slowly began walking down the now relatively barren street, just a few stragglers were meandering at a variety of angles.

"Ringo." Ringo replied with a small smile, he hadn't realised the height difference between the two of them until now.

"Huh?" George had zipped up his windbreaker and brought his shoulders up to protect his face from the cold.

"That's my name... Ringo." Ringo repeated, feeling sheepish all of a sudden.

George laughed and Ringo caught a glimpse of his teeth, his canines far sharper than Ringo had seen before, it flooded his head with images he only hoped he'd see come to fruition.

"Right, sorry." George stopped himself from laughing any further "Not a fake name is it?"

"Course not!" Ringo scoffed, he couldn't help but feel a little offended by the remark "If I was gonna make up a name I'd go for something a little plainer, I think."

"Like George?" George winked with a grin and Ringo almost tripped over his feet.

Could it be a fake name? Ringo didn't really care, with a face like that he could be called anything at all and he'd still be interested.

"I'm just kidding." George nudged Ringo lightly "Never understood the point of fake names. Where's the fun in fucking someone who's gonna call out a name that's not yours?"

The laugh caught in Ringo's throat, he made an attempt to cover whatever strange noise followed with a quick cough. Whatever this guy's deal was, Ringo wasn't entirely sure, he was being a little too friendly for someone he'd only just met but Ringo wasn't exactly complaining. He only wished he looked a little more presentable, standing next to George he didn't need to imagine what a state he must look. Even before Ringo could think of something to say that was attempting to be witty but was unlikely to come across as such, George was speaking again.

"Ringo's got a nice ring to it, though." George reached into his pocket and pulled out a packet of cigarettes, sliding one between his lips "Want one?"

It took Ringo a moment to register "But... I thought you didn't have any."

George laughed again, a sound Ringo could easily get used to hearing "Couldn't think of another opener. Sorry for lying, take one and we'll be even."

Ringo reluctantly accepted the offer, pulled out his lighter and began struggling with it once more. Letting out a frustrated sigh, he continued to embarrass himself until George intervened. Snatching the lighter playfully, George moved in closer to Ringo's face yet again so that the tips of their cigarettes were almost touching and managed to spark the lighter after a couple of attempts, lighting them both successfully. It was hard not to panic a little with George so close  to his face, those dark eyes focusing on his slender fingers. Luckily George pulled away before Ringo could let his mind wander. The realisation alone that George had intentionally approached him out of pure interest rather than a need for a smoke made Ringo feel practically giddy.

"We're even now, then." George held his cigarette up like he was making a toast.

"I dunno, you did deceive me after all." Ringo tutted jokingly, turning the final corner before they arrived at their destination.

"Well you'll just have to think of some way I can make it up to you." George grinned, his tongue running over his sharp tooth; Ringo didn't have to be too imaginative to think of a few options "If you play your cards right, of course."

#the beatles #Beatles #beatles fanfiction #beatles fanfic #George Harrison/Ringo Starr #george harrisonxringo starr #george harrisonxreader #ringo starr/george harrison #starrison

[muertawrites]

The Lovers of Ba Sing Se - Part 1 (Zuko x Reader) [Modern Au]

Summary: Zuko isn’t used to being around people who aren’t afraid to share their every emotion. Meeting you during his time in Ba Sing Se changes that, and changes him for the better.

Word Count: 4,000

Author’s Note: Lmao the only person I’m writing this for is myself. Sorry not sorry. I usually try really hard to keep specifics to a minimum in my self-insert works, but this time I didn’t; I wrote about myself because, honestly, this fic is my love letter to me. I relate to Zuko so much and a huge part of the reason I love him is because he reminds me of myself - this fic is about me learning to love myself again after the people I loved and trusted most betrayed me, and saying a gigantic “fuck you” everyone who ever did anything to destroy my self worth. Part 2 is when I finally live out my fantasy of curb stomping Mai - tomorrow, same bat-time, same bat-channel. 

Also, shameless plug, but I’m about 100 followers away from 1k, and I have some really fun stuff planned for when we get there so if you like this fic or any of my others, please follow! I love doing this and my goal is to devote as much effort as possible to it as I can, and I truly wouldn’t be able to do it without your support. Thank you so much for all of it. I’m so excited for the future of this blog and everyone who makes it possible ♥

~ Muerta

Of all the things Zuko thought might kill him, falling dishware was the last thing he would have ever considered a possibility.

He was sitting in the alley behind the Jasmine Dragon, making the most of his smoke break, when a ceramic cooking pot rained onto the pavement in front of him, shattering into trillions of pieces. Startled, he jumped back, dropping his cigarette as he craned his neck upwards; he spotted a head of brightly dyed hair staring down at him from the third floor balcony above.

“Oh shit,” you cried.

Within a minute, you burst through the back door of the neighboring building, panting and looking just as terrified as the young man you'd almost killed. Zuko stared at you, mouth slightly agape.

“Oh my god I'm so sorry,” you gushed. “Are you okay?? I didn't see you standing there, oh my god, oh my fucking god please tell me you're okay.”

Zuko was taken aback, unable to do anything for a moment but gaze at you in confusion, almost wonder. People in the Fire Nation were never this publicly expressive, even when barely avoiding manslaughter - he didn't quite know what to do with you, other than mutter that he was alright.

“I'm so, so sorry,” you blurted again. “You're sure you're okay? You don't have any glass on you or anything? Or need to be treated for shock?”

“No, I'm fine,” Zuko flatly replied. He nodded towards the trash bins across the alley. “You do know your building has those, though. You don't need to throw your old stuff off your balcony.”

You blushed, smiling sheepishly.

“It wasn't old,” you confessed. “It was a birthday gift from my best friend. Well… ex-best friend.”

Zuko huffed, pulling another cigarette from the pocket of his jeans and lighting it, looking down at his hands.

“Never had a breakup, huh?” he guessed.

“Oh, I've had plenty,” you told him. “They just don't get any easier.”

Zuko looked up at you, taking a long drag from his smoke. Your eyes were cast into the middle of the alley, settled on the shards of what once had been a reasonably nice piece of cookware. The shock and terror had faded from your expression, falling into one that was pained, anger and despair shadowing your features; you may as well have roundhouse kicked him in the chest, the look on your face mirroring the ache between his ribs. You hadn't revealed anything to him, but he knew instantly that your pain was the same as his.

He slid another cigarette from the box, offering it to you. You shook your head, lowering yourself onto the back stoop of the Jasmine Dragon; he found himself doing the same without thinking.

“I'm sorry about your pot,” he said, clumsily attempting to lighten the atmosphere. “It looked nice.”

You smiled faintly, pulling your knees to your chest and letting your chin rest atop them.

“I don't cook much, so it wasn't a huge loss,” you replied. “It was kind of cathartic, actually. I feel better.”

Zuko chuckled, tapping a bit of ash onto the ground between his feet.

“Good. Maybe feeling better will keep you from accidentally killing someone.”

You laughed, covering your face in embarrassment.

“Have I mentioned I'm sorry about that?” you winced.

“Hey, no sweat,” Zuko assured you. “It's not the first time. I've had people try to kill me on purpose before.”

He stood, stubbing out his half-smoked cigarette and pocketing it. He offered a hand to help you up, which you took, finding comfort in the strength of his palm as it wrapped around your forearm.

“I've gotta get back to work,” he told you. “You don't have any other gifts from your ex-best friend laying around, do you?”

You giggled, shaking your head.

“No,” you promised, “just that one. Thank you. For not threatening to press charges.”

Zuko laughed, realizing he was doing so for the first time in what had probably been years. The light feeling in his chest got even lighter when he noticed he was still holding your arm.

“Will I see you around?” he asked, the words escaping before they were even fully formed in his head.

You nodded, finally letting go of his hand.

“Yeah,” you said. “I'll see you around …?”

“Lee,” he told you. “I'm Lee.”

You smiled.

“Cool. I'll see you around, Lee.”

You saw Lee again a few days later, but not in a way you really wanted to. You were at work, standing outside the bar on the district high street with a coworker, attempting to attract some business during the weeknight lull; Lee spotted you while on his way to the nearby market, seeing you from a block or two away but doing his best to approach you as if he was bumping into you completely by accident.

Of course, this would be perfectly normal and not at all a weird way to run into a new acquaintance, if only the bar you worked in wasn’t catered towards men with a lolita fetish. You were dressed head to toe in pink and white, corseted in a risque bustier and frocked with a poofy, frilly mini skirt that was purposely too short, revealing the bum of your equally as ruffled panties; when you turned around and came face to face with the cute guy from the tea shop next door, you hoped someone would throw a cooking pot on top of you, death seeming like a much better option than attempting to explain yourself to someone who’d already had the privilege of meeting you during an emotional breakdown.

Lee blushed as pink as your costume, smiling coyly.

“We did say we’d see each other around,” he greeted you.

You grinned, relaxing a little.

“You’re not here to have a drink, are you?” you teased him. He laughed, his face turning redder as he reached up to rub the back of his neck.

“No,” he assured you, “I’m actually on my way to get some groceries. Figured I’d say hey.”

“Oh!” you exclaimed, “My break is in about fifteen minutes! If you don’t mind waiting I could go with you? I’ll buy you dinner to make up for almost killing you the other day.”

Lee chuckled, nodding.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t mind that,” he agreed. “... I don’t have to wait inside though, do I?”

“I mean, my boss would like it,” you told him, “but it’s so dead in there I don’t think she’d let you leave if you did.”

“Noted,” Lee replied. “I’ll wait in the coffee shop across the street, then.”

Not long after, you tossed a hoodie and a pair of jeans over your bustier and undies, meeting him outside the cafe he was stationed at and making your way to the market. You bustled alongside each other in a fray of other people, rubbing shoulders or hips as you were jostled along with the current.

“So,” Lee blurted, attempting to break the silence between you (although it wasn’t nearly as awkward as it probably should have been), “how’d you end up working in a fetish bar?”

Your simpered, cheeks going ever so slightly rosy.

“How do you think?” you jabbed sarcastically. “I needed money and they pay really well. It’s nice knowing I’ll be able to afford rent every month. What about you? How’d you end up at the tea shop?”

“My uncle owns it,” Lee explained. “We’re the only family we have left, so… we stick together.”

You nodded, understanding and not pushing the question any further.

“It’s not so bad,” he went on. “At least I don’t have to wear pigtails to work.”

You huffed with laughter, leaning over so that your shoulder purposely, playfully shoved his.

“Honestly, my job isn’t awful,” you admitted. “My coworkers are cool, and my boss is really kind. It’s also pretty fun getting to dress up in costume every day; it's like Halloween, except I get to do it whenever I want to.”

Suddenly, you paused, gasping.

“Look!”

You grabbed hold of his arm, startling him a bit but too excited to care. You pointed towards a nearby stand, in which an elderly man was frying pieces of dough. He twisted each in an elaborate knot, every order getting a different design. They were like miniature sculptures, too ornate to even think about eating, but the smell of rich spices and molten sugar was too tempting to ignore.

“I love this stand!” you cried. “He isn't always here, but I get something every time he is. Come on, I'll get us some to split!”

With your hand still curled around his elbow, you dragged Lee through the market throng. As he watched you order, making friendly conversation with the old man, he found himself feeling perplexed; he'd never met someone so comfortable with their emotions, so willing to let every part of them be seen. He wondered how you got so fearless, or if you even had to put effort into being so candid.

He found himself thinking about Mai, how cold and empty she was. He was reminded of the chill he felt around her, the bitter sting she often left in his chest, even during tender moments. Being around you was different; even having just met you, you made him feel invigorated but at ease, the tension in his muscles loosening naturally just from the energy of your presence. It was strange, but refreshing - he found himself grinning along with you as you left the stand, finding a place to sit and enjoy your pastry.

“I got us one with curry, and one with cream filling,” you told him, ripping each serving in half to share. “This guy is an artist, I swear. You're not going to be the same person after this.”

You looked up as you took a bite of the savory half of your meal, halting when you noticed the strange look Lee was giving you.

“What?” you asked him.

He shrugged, fixing his eyes on the pastry in his hand.

“You're just different,” he answered. “Where I'm from, people aren't open like you are. You're really… yourself. It's nice.”

You smiled, unable to help but blush. Bubbles fizzed in your chest, making you feel lightheaded and giddy.

“I think it's because so many people told me not to be when I was a kid,” you mused. “They tried to make me hide the parts of myself I really liked, so I made them show even more, just to show them that they couldn't change me. That I was stronger than their cruelty.”

Zuko felt as if he'd been hit by lightning. He didn't know what it was, but something about you terrified him - it was the same thing that made him want to latch onto you and not let go. Despite having met you just days ago, he already felt as if he'd known you a lifetime - unbeknownst to him, you felt exactly the same way.

“Do you want to hang out tomorrow night?” he asked, stuttering the words.

“Yeah,” you replied, so excited you felt like shrieking so the whole market could hear. “I have the day off tomorrow. Think your uncle would let you swing that?”

“Yeah,” Lee assured you. “I think he would.”

You finished your meal together, sharing your favorite things about the neighborhood you lived in and simply enjoying each other’s company, as comfortable as if you were old friends. Instead of parting with you, Lee walked you back to the bar at the end of your break, stating that it was no trouble going back to the market to get the groceries he skipped to spend time with you.

When he left, you hugged him, and for the first time in a long time, you felt as if you'd truly made a friend.

On your date the next day, Lee took you to the local art museum - he remembered you expressing an interest in art history, and per his uncle’s suggestion, decided it would be the perfect place to take you. He loved seeing the awe on your face when met with a piece that captivated you, was drawn in by the impassioned way you spoke about cultures and myths from ages so long passed they felt as if they came from different worlds entirely. You spent the whole day together, ending the evening crashed on your couch with a pizza and a marathon of true crime documentaries.

From that day onward, you and Lee were connected at the hip. You spent every available moment you had either in the alley behind your building with him or having a cup of tea at the Jasmine Dragon, often staying long after closing with him and his uncle, Mushi, and feeling as if you'd finally found a family in your adopted city.

You learned that Lee was a skilled martial artist, asking him to teach you a little of what he knew and amazed at just how good he really was. He moved more like a dancer than a fighter, his comfort and ability with his body and a weapon captivating you. You learned that he also had an affinity for theater and had grown up completely cut off from modern music and pop culture, spending many of your nights together at local play houses and bars, introducing him to your favorite bands and shows. He learned that you were fascinated by literature and history - anything that had significant, profound meaning and beauty - and often found himself wandering museums and historic neighborhoods with you, loving nothing more than to listen to you talk about what inspired you. You also made him laugh, your sense of humor at times dark, but set into a personality that saw the world with childlike wonder, able to find immense beauty and value in things that seemed frivolous to the naked eye. You were kind, unwavering - everything his family and past lover weren't.

Zuko loved being around you because of how free you made him feel. The unbridled way you expressed your emotions encouraged him to face his own, following your lead in being unafraid of just how intensely the heart within his chest was prone to beat. You loved being with him because he made you feel safe, never judging you for anything and understanding the trauma of your past in a way nobody else had done before. You opened up to him about how the ones you loved did you the most harm, never giving themselves as fully to you as you did them, treating you as a means to take out their own pain and insecurities and convincing you that that was just the way love worked. Eventually, he confided in you the truth about his identity, confessing the horrors he fled in coming to Ba Sing Se. You never once blamed him for anything he'd done, knowing exactly what it felt like to have to read between the lines and give everything for those who gave you little in return. You fit together easily, never having to guess what the other was thinking; for once you both felt content, secure in the safety of your heart within the other’s hands.

One of your favorite places to go with Zuko was a cat cafe a few blocks over from where you worked, spending many a slow weekday off shift with fresh lattes, croissants, and cuddles from friendly, adoptable kitties. At first, Zuko was unsure, having never spent much time with cats, but after one visit he was enamored, gushing to you every single time you went how badly he wanted a cat and spouting multiple reasons why you should adopt one together. On a free Wednesday afternoon he showed up at your apartment unannounced (as he had made a habit of doing) and suggested you go together, an invitation you were more than happy to accept.

As you left the cafe, a couple walking on the other side of the street caught your eye - the man who stood nearest to you was horrifyingly familiar. You recognized him immediately, the shock of his sudden appearance shattering and hollowing out your insides.

It was your ex boyfriend, the man who broke your heart so far beyond repair, walking hand in hand with someone else.

“Zuko,” you mumbled, not even noticing that you used his real name in public, “I want to go home.”

Zuko furrowed his brow, taking you by the shoulders and gently turning you to face him, concerned with the sudden shift in your tone.

“What's wrong?” he asked softly.

All you could do was shake your head. He wrapped his arm around your shoulder, leading you to the nearby subway station and back to your apartment.

Once safe inside the confines of your home, you changed into a baggy sweater and the softest sweatpants you owned, curling up under the kotatsu in your living room with Zuko, arms wrapped tight around his waist as you drifted in the tide of blood that poured from your newly reopened wounds. He didn't have to ask what you'd seen - he could tell from the vacant, glassy look in your eyes exactly which ghost haunted you.

“I can't believe he'd be with someone else,” you whimpered. “After everything he did to me… always giving me mixed signals and never telling me exactly how he felt… how could he be able to do it with another person? What was so wrong about me that he hid all of it from me, when all I needed was to hear it?”

You sniffed as Zuko pressed a thumb to your cheek, wiping away a tear that had fallen. He hugged you tightly, pressing you close as if to remind you that he was there - he was your present, and there was nothing your past could do to harm you.

“There's nothing wrong with you,” he promised. “He's taken enough from you. Don't give him any more.”

For a long while, you sat together in silence, cradled in Zuko’s arms while he rocked you slowly back and forth, the tenderness of his touch sucking the poison from your veins. After what felt like ages, he finally spoke, giving you the piece of his past he'd been too heartbroken to offer until that moment.

“My girlfriend, Mai,” he told you, “she was like him. Everything she felt, she forced herself not to. We were together for a long time, but… I never really felt like she actually cared for me. If she did, she never let me see it. I gave her everything for nothing.”

“Why did you stay with her?” you wondered, voice meek and quivering with tears.

Zuko sighed, letting his chin fall so he could bury his face in your hair.

“Because she was the first person who ever accepted what I offered her,” he explained. “I was so used to everything I did being unwanted, it was just nice to not be pushed away for once. But she didn't love me like I needed it. I wish I was strong enough to see that and walk away, like you did.”

You propped yourself upright, leveling yourself so you could look him in the eye. You rested your hands at either side of his neck, your thumbs grazing delicately over his hot skin as you hooked your legs around his hips, your body nestled in the gap between his crossed legs.

“Zuko,” you breathed, “I love you. Those aren't even the right words to tell you how I feel about you, but it's the closest I have. You're so passionate and kind, and you love so fiercely… I truly don't know how to tell you how beautiful I think you are, or how much you mean to me. You deserve so much more than how the people you loved have treated you.”

Zuko curled his arms around your back, pressing his chest to yours and burying his face in the crook of your neck, embracing you as closely as he'd ever done. Tears soaked the collar of your sweater, and in return you cried into the exposed skin revealed by his t-shirt as you tugged on the fabric, gripping him as if letting go meant losing him forever.

“I love you, too,” Zuko murmured. “You make me feel strong enough to show it.”

When Zuko left Ba Sing Se, it crushed you. You were furious, at first unable to understand why he'd throw everything away to return to the place and the people that destroyed so much of him. Most of all, you missed him like mad - you missed how easy it was being with him, how you understood each other as if you were another part of yourselves. You missed his laughter and his warmth, the side of your mattress he often slept in feeling colder than ever without him there.

You were relieved when Mushi - who you now knew to be the infamously disgraced General Iroh - returned, showing up at your door out of the blue with tea and baked goods from the shop. You hugged him tightly, crying like a child as he settled you at your table and told you about his escape from prison, as well as his conversations with Zuko the few times he'd visited him. Your heart ached, but it finally felt clear just how lost and confused he was; you were still angry, but you knew you could forgive him.

“His heart is lost,” Iroh explained, “but because of you, he knows how to listen to it.”

For the next month and a half, you took Zuko’s place at the Jasmine Dragon, spending your days off helping Iroh wherever he needed you. He became as much a part of you as his nephew did, and started to consider you as much a daughter as he did Zuko a son. Iroh’s presence soothed the burns left on your soul not only by those you loved, but by your own ferocity towards them.

Everything changed again the morning you woke to and find that Zuko had left the Fire Nation a third time, his face plastered across the news as a missing person with a bounty on his head. You knew based on everything Iroh told you what he planned to do, and immediately set to packing your bags. Travel into and out of the Fire Nation was difficult, but a few of your coworkers had connections to smugglers in the seedier parts of the district - they’d be able to get you onto a ship or a plane that could get you where you needed to go.

Before you left, you went to the Jasmine Dragon and told Iroh of your plans, asking him to keep watch over your apartment so that you could return if need be. You expected him to try and stop you - instead he pulled you into a strong, affectionate hug, telling you to be careful and call him whenever you were able.

“Go to him,” he hummed into your ear. “He needs you.”

Later that night, you met a group of other refugees at the docks, piling into the hull of a cargo ship bound for the Fire Nation’s imperial city. For the entirety of the journey, you wore one of Zuko’s necklace’s around your neck - one of the few things he’d kept from his life before his banishment and subsequent disappearance - keeping it tucked under your shirt and pressed to your chest for good luck.

[ Part 2 ]

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[filthy-rat]

Since we all know Mary likes to hunt nazis for fun. How would he react if a scum like that tried to go near you? Give me the murderous protective bloody boi plz 🥺👉👈

It’s a dark and stormy night. That sounds like a cliche, because it is, but that’s what’s this night is like. Rain comes in heavy sheets all around you, soaking you to the bone, blinding you.

The only thing you can see is the glint of the knife flashing in the dark and stormy night.

Dark and stormy never bothered you, and neither did the night, really. You’ve always been drawn to the darker corners of the city, to the black underbelly of it all. That’s where the most interesting people tend to congregate.

That’s where you’d met Mary Goore.

He’d been bumming around some shitty dive bar, flirting with all the insufferably hetero dudes there, buying them the fruitiest drinks on the menu with a wink and a salacious lick of his lips. He liked to start fights that he invariably lost, and you were there to patch him up afterwards.

He flirted with you, too, a couple of times. Always pretty words and playful winks and light touches. Even though you knew better than to feed scraps to strays, he was just so damn pretty, just like his words. Even when he was bruised and covered in blood. You couldn’t stay away.

The two of you became drinking buddies, although secretly, you wish for more with him. You think maybe he does, too, but it’s hard to tell with Mary.

You spend your weekends bar hopping with him, going from shitty dives to swanky clubs to chaotic raves. Somehow he always gets inside, even when the cover charge is well in the triple digits, and you never once see him exchange money with the bouncer. He simply slides up to them, murmurs something in their ear, and that velvet rope is hastily untethered.

“C’mon, babe,” he’d say with a crooked grin, and he’d sling an arm around your shoulders and pull you through the doors.

Every time you ask just how he slithers his way into these places without fail, he gives you a different answer.

“Said I’d give him a blowjob,” he says.

“My dad’s the owner,” he says.

“Saved his life in prison,” he says.

You learn that asking questions of Mary isn’t really a game you can win, especially when he’s constantly changing the rules without notice. That doesn’t stop him from asking questions of you, of course. And he does ask questions. About your life, your preferences, your history--Mary wants to know it all. You find yourself being unexpectedly candid with your answers. Maybe it’s the way he seems to take a genuine interest in the things you say, holding your gaze while you talk.

You’ve never had someone be so sincere about you before.

Anyway, it was a dark and stormy night. The two of you are out drunkenly wandering, devouring the pulse of the city, unbothered by the heavy rain or the ominous thundering overhead. Arm in arm, you meander through the streets, shouting the lyrics to your favorite songs and telling terrible jokes in between the choruses.

“Let’s stop and get a pack of smokes,” says Mary, tugging you towards the glowing neon of a 24-hour convenience store.

“I’ll wait out here,” you say, flashing him a grin. “Rain’s nice. Hurry up.”

Mary smirks, bumps his forehead against yours a little too hard, and disentangles himself from your grasp. He leaves you leaning against the storefront, humming under your breath, and ducks inside for his cigarettes.

That’s when the trouble began.

In your stupor, you barely register the arrival of others. You and Mary had been wandering for awhile when you stopped and came across hardly anyone else. Rain tends to keep people indoors, but these guys seem to care as little as you do.

Initially, you offer the group a polite smile, but when they enter the light of the storefront and you see them fully, you realize that these four men are definitely less than friendly. Everything about them screams threat, and that’s before you noticed the red armbands many of them are wearing. Immediately, you avert your gaze, hoping they hadn’t seen you. But you’re never that lucky.

“Well, well, well! Hey there, sweet thing,” hums one as he comes to lean against the wall beside you. He’s much too close and you can smell the stench of beer on his breath. “Who left you out here, all wet and alone? C’mon, sugar, I don’t bite.”

"Fuck off,” you snap, trying to sound braver than you felt, and you retreat a few inches.

They just laugh and close the distance once more. Panic is beginning to rise now, and you’re desperately looking for an exit route.

Without warning, the head of the man closest to you is grabbed and slammed once, twice, three times against the concrete wall. With a pained grunt, your aggressor collapses to the rain-slick pavement and doesn’t move. A faint red trickle is now present on the wall where his head had been. His companions all whirl on the spot towards the source of the violence, and your heart leaps at the sight of Mary standing there, glaring down at the unmoving nazi.

There’s a terrifying, bone-chilling rage in his eyes that you’ve never seen before. As he flicks his gaze up to regard the rest of them, they all recoil in fear. Despite the evident anger boiling inside him, Mary’s voice is unnervingly calm when he speaks. Somehow, this makes him even more frightening.

“Better get the fuck outta here before something bad happens to you.“

And that’s when he pulls out the bowie knife you had no idea he even owned. It’s about the length of his forearm, and you can tell even from this distance it’s wickedly sharp. He flourishes it with a twirl of his wrist, and the edge glints, flashing like a beacon in the dark and stormy night.

Wordlessly, the group scramble to gather up their unconscious friend, and beat a hasty retreat.

“And if I ever fuckin’ see your faces around here again,” snarls Mary as they scurry away, “I’ll gut you like the fuckin’ pigs you are!”

When he’s satisfied they’re gone, he slides the knife back into the holster at the small of his back, and turns to you without coming closer. There’s an anxiety to his eyes now, even if it’s hard to see. Perhaps he thinks you’ll be afraid of him, too. Without another word, you close the distance and throw your arms around his neck.

“Thank you. Thank you, thank you.” You nuzzle your face into his neck and take a deep, calming breath.

Automatically, his arms come around your back, holding you close. A relieved sigh escapes him, and he buries his face into your shoulder. After a moment, he pulls back to rest his forehead on yours, eyes gentle.

“Just glad you’re okay.”

#my scribblins #mary goore #this is really really long i'm sorry kjashfj #Anonymous

[tpwksammy]

Zed Chapter 1-3

Sitting in the car with Kaden I keep my knees pressed to the door and phone in my hands.

He knocked on my apartment door after he finished work and told me we were going somewhere.

Kaden didn't specify but he has a small addiction with gambling. I ask him not to bring me to those events with him but he throws a fit telling me how worthless and a bad girlfriend I am. I've learned to not ask questions anymore.

"June aren't you going to ask me how my day was?" Kaden looks at me with his two hands on the wheel. His long locks are pushes back perfectly on his face.

Everything in this man's life has to be perfect. His hair, reputation, grades, money and me. Its utterly impossible

"How was your day?" I muster the softest smile.

"The deal for our company to expand across the world was accepted. I'm going to be rich June, you and I are gonna move out of here. Can't wait for it to just be me and you, we can get a house in the middle of nowhere. Just be ourselves." Reaching his hand for mine he locks our fingers and kisses the back of my hand.

"That's so great, I know you always wanted that!" Maybe he'll be nice away from the city.

"You don't sound too thrilled?" His eyebrows bunch down hard and I turn my head to give him my full attention.

"Well, where were you thinking of moving? I want to stay close to Mae."

Charlie Mae is my best friend. The first person I met when I moved to London.

I've lived in England for all my life but I moved more south to get away from my parents. Pathing my own life and experiencing new things was something I've always wanted to do.

I work at a small flower shop called Petal. Ever since I was young I always loved to run outside. I would run until my shoes would hit a flower patch and I would go picking for hours. Laying down in the field and smelling the fresh scent made me happier than I could ever be.

Mom and Dad weren't happy when I moved out here. I was supposed to go to law school and work alongside my father at his firm but after getting my arts degree I left.

That's why I'm dating Kaden actually.

My father and his are business partners. The only way for me to remain a part of my family was to marry someone of higher status. That wouldn't make a fool out of him like I have been doing my whole life.

Dad never wanted a daughter.

I don't think he's ever been proud of me and my mom simply encourages the behaviour. That's one of the main reasons I moved from the outskirts of their perfect rich life.

I wished they liked me but no matter what they do I always check-in to make sure they're alright.

"You know how I feel about Charlie, she's a bad influence. Always wanting you to go to parties and clubs. Just like how she sleeps with anyone who moves, it's unacceptable. We'll move away and it'll be perfect just wait and see."

I keep silent and rake my right hand up and down my thighs not wanting to anger him. "Yeah, it will be you're right." Kaden smiles happily and kisses my hand once more.

Im wearing a light green floral dress like always. The little flower pattern keeps me at peace.

"Alright, we're here. Just do me a favour and don't talk okay hun?" Leaning forward he presses a kiss to my lips and gets out of the car.

It's pitch black but light poles illuminate just enough light to see.

Loud chattering and defining laughter take over my senses. I smile to the groups of excited people.

I love the feeling of being free even I have to experience it from others.

Letting my eyes roam around to the dark area, trees and roads surround us in the middle of nowhere. Hundreds of people are huddled around four parked cars on the street ahead.

"June." His sharp voice and knocking on the window takes me out of my trace.

Nodding his head to get out I open the door and close it quietly. Looking to Kaden he points to a set of bleachers.

"I'll be right there I just need to place my bets. Don't go far." His tone demanding and I nod.

Walking away from me with no other word I take to the aluminum bleachers and make my climb to the top so I can see everything. Taking my seat the four cars rest directly in front and I watch as drivers smoke cigarettes and talk to each other.

Roaming my eyes over the cars a huge smile takes over my face. I wonder how fast those things go. I've always wanted to max out the speed of a car. Experience the true rush it looked like in the movies but I couldn't. Kaden instructed that I dont ruin his name by doing crazy things.

It's exhausting doing everything everyone tells you all the time. I moved away to be myself but I can't even do that.

Fixing my green dress I look down to all eyes on me. Girls dressed in black jeans, biker jackets and dark makeup lock their judging eyes on me and I sink down into the seat.

Placing my blonde hair behind my ear I look at my white running shoes tapping them a sweet melody trying to disappear.

"Starting in two minutes." a loud voice shouts on a speaker and I quickly look in a jump. The stands begin to fill quickly and I don't know where to divert my eyes.

I spot Kaden down by the starting line handing a thick load of cash to a man in a black hoodie. Looking away biting my lip my eyes look on a green race car. It's a shiny dark lime colour and my eyes grow wide looking at it. All the other cars around are black making this one stand out.

I dont think I've ever seen a car this beautiful.

It's so rad.

Trailing my eyes down to the front a man sits on the hood with his arms crossed in front of him watching me closely and my back straightens.

Black hair brushed back leaves his dark round sunglasses on display. I feel his eyes watching me and it sends a shiver down my body. Tattoos paint every inch of his visible skin and my body finds his artwork fascinating.

I wonder what they look like up close.

I look around my area making sure he's looking at me but when I look back his face never moves from mine.

I can't look away. Something about him is just so beautiful and mysterious.

He's dressed in black pants a white shirt and a leather jacket which is completely opposite to my outfit. I laugh a wide smile and a small smirk paints his perfect lips.

Leaning against his car neither of us look away. Lifting his hands about to take off his sunglasses Kaden takes a seat next to me by surprise.

Wrapping his hand around my arm he pulls me to his side harshly. My body knocks into his like always and he keeps his hand wrapped around my arm. It begins to hurt when he applies pinching pressure and I tighten my lips in pain.

"Ouch Kaden." I squirm and frail my arm upwards. I try to escape his hold but he yanks me down to eye level.

Locking eyes he looks at me angrily before leaning into my ear viscously. "Don't embarrass me out here. Don't talk to me that way June."

My eyes not noticeable widen and my heart skips a small beat.

Tugging his lips up in a twitch he lets go and I rip my hand arm away from him rubbing the skin. Kaden only smiles back politely.

"I got my money on the green car. His name around here is Zed. Undefeated champion, people come out here every night thinking they'll outdrive him but it never happens. This guy's a machine behind the wheel."

Turning my stare back to the green car the man no longer has his stare on me but Kaden.

His face is dropped in complete anger and goosebumps take over my body in slight terror as I look to Kaden but his stare is on the crowd in front of him oblivious.

Zed grips his hands into firsts before locking eyes with me.

Immediately unclenching he stares at me in complete curiosity, sadness and anger at the same time. For another couple minutes we simply stare at each other.

"Drivers to your seats." The man on the speakers yells excitedly and the crowd erupts in cheers. The noise is all absent in the background as I look at him.

Zed forcefully removes his stare and looks to the ground for a second before stocking off to the driver's door.

Rocks under his shoes crumble and the green door opens widely as he climbs in swiftly. Slamming the door with a thud, all of the engines shout to a roar through the midnight sky. - chapter 2

When the flag signals "go" the cars take off with a roar. The gravel under the wheels crunch as they speed away. The crowd stands with blaring shouts jumping up and down.

With angry curses of motivation and loud cheers of excitement, the cars rip down the abandoned road at a sickening fast speed.

Lifting my head to see where the cars go they take off down obstacles and my site loses them in the darkness. Slumping back in my seat Kaden keeps his head locked on the road and his knee bounces in anticipation.

"What are you doing?" I ask and he turns his head sharply.

"Keeping my eye on my money maker."

I wonder how long these things last? Snapping my fingers, bouncing my hands on my leg in a fidget Kaden presses his hand on top of them stopping my motion.

Immediately my body runs cold and I feel the need to apologize.

"Sorry," I whisper and frail my bum down on the bleachers growing small.

"It's a little annoying but all is good. "

"They're coming back!" A voice screams and everyone stands including myself. Just like I knew, the green car comes zooming past all of the cars in first. Ahead by a long shoot his car flies past the finish line skidding to a stop on its side.

"Yes!" Kaden stands and presses his hands to my jaw pulling me in for a forceful kiss. Moulding our lips together I try to pull away but he keeps going. Our lips part with a smucker and he smiles like a child.

"I love you so much!"

The sounds of the other cars zoom to the finish line and the crowd runs to the cars below.

"Oh god hun, you might just be my lucky charm, let's go." slapping our hands together he races us down the bleachers giving me no time to look where I'm going.

"Kaden slow down." I whimper trying to let go but he continues to race.

Tripping over my toes I fall on my two feet to the ground and he yanks me forward in a fast walk. Looking to the green car I watch as Zed steps out of his car with a slam. Reaching into his pocket his gaze locks on mine but drifts to Kaden hardly and his jaw tightens.

"Zed, that was amazing, I've never seen anything like that." Kaden rips his hand out of mine leaving me meters behind, running up to Zed as I stay put.

"helping me win those big bucks man, appreciated." Laughing sticking his hand out to shake Zed only eyes him aggressively with utter disgust.

After seconds go by and no motion to move forward Kaden lowers his hand. "Not a shaking guy I get it."

Turning around in a circle I focus my sight on all the cars and happy crowd. Giggling when I see a man fling a girl on his shoulders playfully I breathe the air around me clearly. Wallowing in my clear space for just a second of peace.

"June." His voice grabs my attention covering up his tone in polite, dragging me by the hand to his side. Standing in front of Zed he takes his sunglasses off and his bright brown eyes stare softly into mine.

I swallow down my dry throat as my body suddenly freezes, trapped in his beauty.

"This is my girlfriend June." Kaden nudges me but I don't say anything while still staring at Zed.

"June don't be rude." He whispers tightly in my ear and I look away when his hold on my hand squeezes my body down.

The move wasn't noticeable but Zed's eyes are locked on our hold. Viscousness pours from his frame.

"Sweetheart, you alright?" Zed changes his tone and his eyes soften on mine.

"Why wouldn't she be alright." Kaden presses and I stare weakly at him. He always speaks for me. Dropping my head slightly, someone catches Kaden's attention.

"You collecting your earnings?" the man's voice is sharp and Kaden's body stands in victory. Letting go of my hand he runs off to the podium and I stand in front of Zed leaning my head up to the stars.

They were so bright tonight.

"You didn't answer my question." I look down to the voice as he takes a step closer towards me Our chests are about to touch and in reflex I back away hitting the front of his car.

"Yes, I'm alright." I unconvincingly say and he shakes his head.

"I'm no idiot-"

"Is your name really Zed?" I interrupt not liking when people pry in my business.

"No sweetheart that's just my nickname around here. My names Zayn."

Zayn, Zayn, Zayn, Zayn.

"That's such a graceful name." I smile cheekily and he presses a finger to my chin giggling from the touch.

"Going to tell me yours?" nudging forward I stop my giggles and swallow when his breathes hit my lips.

"I- im June."

"That's a very pretty name June." smirking my heart beats out of my chest. I blink to make sure he's still there and he very much is.

"I like this." His eyes trail down my green dress that stops above my knee. "You're a very bright soul for this dark place sweetheart."

About to speak Zayn pulls away and places a cigarette between his lips resting against the car beside me. Looking past, Kaden walks back stuffing cash in his pocket.

"June let's go, this place is no good for you." Grabbing my hand he tugs me away from the car and I watch as Zayn's eyes lock on us both walking away.

"I can walk by myself." I try tugging my hand away but he pulls me closer.

"Dont do this. Don't make me yell at you I hate doing it." Kissing the top of my head he yanks me down the crunching gravel from our shoes.

Looking back once more, Zayn eyes me in complete alert.

Parting his lips of the cigarette white smoke blows into the air as he clutches his fists.

-chapter 3

"Charlie Mae open this door." I bang my fists against her apartment door as loud and annoyingly as I possibly can.

The door suddenly rips open revealing Mae in her sleeping shorts and a black bra. Her hair is completely a mess and my jaw drops.

"Mae is nearly midday." Laughing, she pulls on my arm into her studio apartment.

Placing a finger against her lips she cries in tiredness, "It's 12 pm and I have a raging hangover. Please shush." She begs and walks into her bedroom tumbling back into her white sheets hugging herself like a taco.

"Oh come on, again?" I jump on the bed pulling the covers over my body and pull right up to her face in a whispering tone.

"What did you do last night?"

She parts her lips weakly, clearly unhappy I'm asking questions. "Club, drank, fucked, feel like death." muttering her eyes shut her breaths come out at a clear pace signalling she's asleep.

"I'm glad one of us has their fun." Kissing Mae's forehead I turn on my side about to shut my eyes when a text from Kaden pops up on my phone.

Going to check out houses in Italy this weekend on a business trip. Will miss you.

I sigh to myself and look at Mae. I don't want to leave. It was never what I wanted.

Shutting my phone off I stare at the ceiling thinking about Zayn. How his black messy hair was pulled off of his face so perfectly. His warm smile when we locked eyes and the coolness of his body language.

Something about him makes me want to see him again.

I feel like an awful person.

-

It's 6 pm and Mae woke up about an hour ago. I watched her make this god awful green juice that she choked down. Apparently, it cleanses her ora. While she drank she placed her new crystals in a small jar and sat them in the centre of her wood table.

Keeps the negative spirits away and she claims it's positive energy.

I aspire to be her level of chill.

"Can I ask you a question?" I say as she cleans her kitchen table. Standing taller she leans over the table lifting her eyebrows.

"Shoot me."

Shifting on my seat I twiddle my small fingers together brushing over the light pink nail polish. "I went somewhere last night with Kaden-"

"Oh enough with that fucker. Saying his name forms bile in my throat. I don't understand how you stand him, he's awful to you."

She's begged me to leave him but I physically can't.

Besides, he's nice when we're alone together. I like the happy version of him.

He loves me.

"Kaden took me to a street race thing for him to gamble and there was this boy." That's what catches her attention. Dropping the rag in her hand she runs over to the seat opposite of mine dropping her body.

"Was he a racer?" Her face edges forward and when I nod she squeals deafeningly and I cover her mouth with my hand.

"Look let me just vent." She nods quickly.

"He wouldn't stop staring at me and then Kaden walked over with me to congratulate him. He still wouldn't stop eyeing me and I felt all the air around me was sucked away. anyways when Kaden went to go collect his money we talked and I can't get him out of my head. I'm an awful person for thinking this way when I'm in a relationship-"

Gripping my wrist she pulls my hand down eyeing me hardly. "Bestie, I'm afraid to tell you this but I don't care what I have to do. We're going to that damn race tonight."

I pull my arm away standing off the chair. "Mae, no I am not."

"You just said you couldn't stop thinking about him, we're going back." matching my stance I start to freak. If Kaden knows I went back there he'll have my head.

Looking to the door and back to Mae she tilts her head in warning.

"Don't you dare-"

In slick movement, I take off on my heels for the door but my hips are pulled back and suddenly I'm on the floor with a body above me. "get off of me." Frailing my hands to her shoulders to get her off she pins my hands above my head. Blowing a huff of air, my blonde lock that escaped my ponytail flies out of my face.

"June Elizabeth Davis, one of these days you are going to thank me for what I'm about to do." shifting my hips she sits on my torso pinning me completely and I exhale as my lungs constrict.

"We're going to that damn race and we're looking pretty."

...

As the hour's tick by, we start getting ready and she presents outfits to me. "Okay how about this?" she holds a black silk dress to my vision and I shake my head.

"I am not wearing that but go ahead for yourself." Frowning she rolls her eyes and begins to strip. Once her clothes are removed she pulls the black dress up her body and it sticks to every inch of her curves tightly.

"Hot." Is all I say and she claps her hands to her sides. She's a beautiful woman.

"Well what about you miss floral." Looking down at my yellow flower summer dress I smile.

"What else do you think I'm going to wear?" anything with flowers can have my credit card.

In awe, she walks towards me and pulls on my hand lightly. If she pressed any harder the bruises I covered from last night would've made me squirm but she's always so gentle.

"I expected nothing less. Ready my love?" the jingling of her car keys sound through the room and hooks are arms stepping into the hallway.

"I'm going to make a fool out of myself, I just know." Mumbling we take off to the elevator.

-

Pulling up to the race she parks next to the light and we make our way out of the car. Looking around it feels different that I'm not with someone I tread around with my every move.

The air seems clear.

As we walk to the bleachers we bypass the crowd that has gotten bigger since yesterday. I'm guessing because it's a Friday.

Hitting someone's shoulder by accident I stop turning around, "im sorry, im sorry." I yell a beg to the blonde body that doesn't care.

"I feel so bad." frowning to myself Mae wraps her hand in mine and pulls us away.

"You're too nice, I aspire to be you. I couldn't give a shit about any other than myself and you."

Standing at the edge of the bleachers we walk past rows and rows of black outfits. Of course, leaving me to be the different one in the crowd.

I hate when people stare. I feel like they can read me like an open book. Plopping down in the same seat as yesterday I lock my eyes on the cars below and notice Zayn's green one isn't there.

"He's not here." I bite my cheek as Mae checks her phone.

"Love, there's ten more minutes left, the big boys are always late." Just like she said in the next minute I watch his green car zoom to the starting line. Braking quickly dust flies around his car eloping it in disguise and the crowd begins to scream. The gravel crunches under the tires and I stare at the car watching his body slowly climb out of the car.

He's so beautiful.

Suddenly a thought pops in my mind and I turn to Mae slapping her legs. "Ouch, fu-"

"He's going to think I'm stalking him," I whisper shout and out of all things she laughs aggressively holding her side.

Slouching from her reaction she pulls me into her side rubbing my shoulders. "Just like I said you're too sweet for this world. He's not going to think that."

"Oh god." I hide the red of my cheeks into her body but she pulls my arms back squeezing my cheeks.

"June your dick boyfriends in Italy do what you want for once."

Biting my cheek I look away shyly to the green car to see him perched on the side with his cigarette between his lips staring at me with a smirk.

All the air becomes robbed of my lungs when he winks to me.

Watching him step away into his car the crowd cheers once they all step on the pedal speeding down the course through the forest.

After the race, I have no clue where he went off to. The green car of course won but he ran off somewhere.

Sitting on my seat a little sad I turn to Mae who has her eyes locked on a brunette.

"Oh wow." her eyes dilate looking at a brunette boy resting against a black car. His hair is a messy straight hairstyle as he smokes on a cigarette.

"This is very bitchy of me but I'm gonna go talk to him. Go find your boy and text me when you want to leave."

Kissing my cheek I watch her sprint down the bleachers holding her purse. As her shoes touch the ground she rides her dress upwards and fixes her boobs. Covering my mouth with my palm I watch her walk confidently to the boy.

I giggle into my palms from how much love I have for her.  I wish I had the nerve to do that.

After sitting on top of the empty bleachers Mae and the boy walked to a bathroom beside the podium.

She really is quick.

Fiddling with my nails on the stairs my legs grow tired. I think I might go for a walk as I wait.

Standing I carefully climb down. I take my foot making sure each placement is at a slow pace.  I've always been prone to falling down these things.

Reaching the bottom my foot gets caught in one of the holes and my body falls forward.

A hard gasp leaves my lips and I shut my eyes waiting to hit the gravel. Falling a pair of warm hands suddenly wrap around my back and I land into a hard chest. Immediately my own hands wrap around their neck squeezing a black jacket.

Inhaling a thankful breath my foot aches from a sharp pain and I shut my eyes. "Thanks, I'm sorry. Lost my balance." My tone is full of embarrassment and physical pain.

"Sweetheart, you alright?" The voice of the boy I met yesterday rings in my ears and I look up to his frame immediately.

Time seems to stops and I have to remind myself he just spoke to me.

"Yeah, I'm fine." I breathlessly say looking to his eyes that always catch my attention. Looking closer there's a light green speck of colour around his irises.

"Something catch your attention?" Winding my body to stand on the bleachers he never lets go and stares at me with a grin.

"Your eyes are very pretty." I giggle with my hands around his neck still. Zayn's hands move to my waist of my yellow dress pulling me closer.

"And what might you be doing here tonight?" his eyebrows raise and my face grows red. Tilting my head down in a weak smile, his finger on my chin lifts my gaze to him.

"Tell me I'm wrong but did sweet June miss me?" Zayn leans forward and my body runs frozen as a small inhale clenches my lungs.

"I wanted to see you again." My chest raises up and down from how close he's gotten and still holds me up with his two hands.

"That just made my night sweetheart."

Letting my body go so I can rest my weight on my foot I move my hands to his shoulders to stand myself. Placing pressure a sharp pain races through my body causing my leg to buckle.

"Ah- Ouch." I cry lifting up my hurt foot and Zayn's hands go to my elbows, holding up my bent body.

"Fuck I think you hurt your ankle, c'mere." tracing his hands down my body he lifts me up bridal style. Hitting his chest from the acceleration he caries me effortlessly down the gravel.

"Are you sure this is necessary? I'm sure I can walk on it." I wrap my hands around his neck and he shakes his head.

"Just let me take a look at it."

Speaking full of worry I roll my eyes slightly which causes him to stop.

"Did you just roll your eyes?" He says holding me closer and I begin to laugh shaking my head.

"No, no I didn't not." my hands grip the leather jacket around his neck.

"You're lucky I like you." His face remains hard as he carries me throughout the crowd. Judgemental looks from others stare and I turn my head away.

Leaning down he places my body on the hood of his car. Trapping me in with his hands I press mine to his forearm, readjusting myself so I'm steady.

Pushing my bum back I release my hands from his strong arms and he stares deeply into me.

"Who are you?" He whispers barely audible.

"Well, I'm June." Scrunching my face in a giggle, Zayn chuckles pulling away.

Placing his hands on my leg he lifts it up gently. "I'm just going to look alright."

Wrapping his hands lightly around my ankle I hiss back from the touch. "That hurt." I frown trying to pull my leg away but he brings it right back to his stare. Tracing his fingers around the spot he parts his lips.

"It's not broken but definitely a mild sprain. I'll have to wrap it up."

My eyes widen. "Wrap it up? Zayn I think that's a little much-"

"June do you want this to get worse?" I sink my hips to the green paint.

"No."

He smiles cockily in victory. "Come with me." before I can blink Zayn lifts me up again and I wrap my arms around his neck. Landing into his chest with a thud, wasting no time he walks off down the road.

The bottom of his black shoes crush the gravel below I take time to roam my eyes over his face. The light stubble of his beard and the tiny silver hoops in his ears. Trying to stop my body I cant and I press my hands to his hair brushing it back.

"How old are you?" I ask to his face that has been staring at me this whole time.

"24 you?"

"23."

Straightening my back I look behind us as he continues down the road. "Are you kidnapping? Should I be scared?"

Looking at me with a complete snicker we appear to a small wooden shack to the side of the racing road. "Zayn?" I giggle and he sets me down on the wooden stairs.

"There's medical stuff inside, I'll be right back."

Walking up the stairs he opens the door with a creek and disappears.

Looking to the dark road in front, my eyes train on the forest next to me and I just breathe contently. I wonder what the race track is like in there... maybe it's just a road.

I've always been a happy person. I can't help it, it makes me feel full of light like the flowers in the fields that grow from it. I find it's better to be happy than anything else. Any other emotion is just to exhausting for my life.

The door creaks once more and I look to Zayn with one of those ankle bandages in his hand. Walking around my frame he bends down and slips his hand to my leg raising it.

With his hand to my injured foot he sips off my shoe.

"I think this is a little too soon." I tease and he places my small white vans to the side. My matching yellow socks reveal themselves and when I flex my foot playfully he smiles widely.

He should smile more often.

"I like your dress," he says, beginning to straighten out the bandage.

"You really think so? Everyone around here was eyeing me because of it."

Staring at me from below he shakes his head firmly. "You took them by surprise. Like I said we don't get that man people with your soul around here, you look beautiful."

My heart beats out of my chest from his simple words and lacing the bandage around my foot tightly I hiss from the touch.

"Be nicer that hurts."

Releasing his hold just a bit, the bandage loops carefully around my foot. "Sorry, I'm not used to being so gentle." whispering delicately I can't help but stare into his beautiful frame and butterflies flutter in my stomach.

"So you like flowers?" he asks cutting through the quiet, eyeing my dress up and down with another smile. "Yesterday you wore a similar dress with that flower pattern."

In observation he taps his hand on my thigh tracing the flower pattern of my dress.

"I've always loved flowers, they're my favourite thing. I work at a floral shop too."

Tightening the bandage on my foot for the last time I gasp and my body jumps upwards.

"There. all done."

Taking my white shoe he slips it back on my foot carefully. My foot takes some getting used to but it sits comfortably. Re tying the laces in a bow he takes a seat beside me.

"Thanks for being gentle!" I laugh turning my body to face him. Resting my back on the railing of the steps Zayn slides closer pressing his elbows to his knees turning his head watching me.

"So you work at a flower shop?"

"Yeah, it's downtown called petal. It's on a relatively plain street but the doors are full of pink flowers. It's quite the scene." I giggle from the nature of that statement. All of the doors on the street are rock and there's little to no light in the night except for the bright colours from our shop. "It smells heavenly too. "

Zayn smiles gracefully and I find myself in a trance from the small gesture. "How often do you work?"

"Weekdays I get the weekends off which is nice. What about you? This is certainly a well-paying job and you got everyone fangirling over you."

Zayn shakes his head and looks at the road. "More than well paying. And I could care less about the people, I do this for me. It's a total rush."

Watching his side profile as he speaks my eyes trace to his hands covered in thick silver rings.

"What about you? Do you like the rush?" He asks and I bite my lip looking into the darkness.

"Always wanted to experience it but I have yet to. Just not allowed." I say the last part quietly brushing my dress out when his hand falls on mine stopping the movements.

Looking up he eyes me hard. "June I didn't like how your boyfriend was touching you yesterday." Zayn's voice grows in anger and I try to pull my hand back but he doesn't let go.

"This isn't something I'd like to talk about."

"If he ever lays a hand on you like ever again I'm not keeping to myself."  swallowing down my dry throat terrified thoughts roll through my mind and I shake my head.

"Please don't do that you don't understand." I plead and his face tilts to the side.

"Understand what?"

"Just stop it Zayn." I scrunch my face and he lightens his tone.

"I'm sorry June I'll let it go but I mean what I said. No one should treat you like that."

Looking up to his eyes I know that he's telling the truth but why does he even care?

Kaden loves me, is all I can repeat to myself. He's the one person that loves me in this messed-up world.

My phone vibrates in my pocket disrupting the quiet and I take it out. Placing it to my ear the caller ID reads Mae.

"Mae are you alright?" Zayn looks to me in alert but I brush my hand in the air.

"I'm going over to Louis's house tonight. If you don't have a ride you can take my car."

My shoulders slump and I press my hand to my temple. Im an awful driver. "Well, where are you going are you sure you'll be alright?"

"Oh trust me I'll be alright. He is the man of my dreams. But do you have a ride home or not?" Looking at Zayn he nods his head at me and I tilt my head pressing the phone away from my ear.

"What?"

"I'll take you home." Zayn stands from the seat and my eyes go wide. How did he hear that?

"No Zayn I-" Scrunching my eyes he interrupts. "Not up for discussion flower girl, let's go."

Inhaling a small breath I put the phone back on my ears. "Well that was very cute, I guess you do have a ride with Mr big time, have fun!" She hangs up the call and I lock my eyes on Zayn.

"You don't need to do this."

"We're in the middle of nowhere and it will make me feel better knowing you got home safe." Reaching his hand out for mine I place it in his palm and feel the coldness of his rings on my skin. Standing me to my feet I scrunch my face a little in discomfort getting used to the tightness on my foot.

"Here." he reaches his arm out for me to grab and I lace my hands around his forearm.

"Thank you!"

My dress blows back in the wind as we walk to his car slowly. Getting to his green car he opens the door for me and helps me in. Grabbing his arm tightly as I sink to the bottom as he watches my every move.

Once I'm comfortable he leans forward. Our lips are inches apart and his eyes lock on my lips. "you alright in here?"

I swallow yelling at myself that I got into this situation. "yes I'm alright."

Pulling away Zayn closes the door with a huge smile that drops when he turns to the public. Climbing into his side the jingle of the keys stick into the ignition and the car roars to a start. The vibration hits my body and I can feel it through every inch of my viens. "Woah." Is all I can say looking through the dark interior.

This is awesome and I can't help but exhale loudly. "I'm in a race car."

"Hey, June?" He questions in thought and I look back at him smiling, "Yes?"

"You know how you said you wanted to experience shit?" He furrows his eyebrows in deep thought that makes me giggle. He's so serious.

"Yes, I do actually." Dropping his face in complete excitement I see the wheels turning in his brain.

"Well sweetheart, you're driving us home."

#zayn zaynmalik fanfiction Harrystyles Niallhoran Liampayne Louistomlinson niall liam harry louis gigi gigihadid gigiandzayn

[morgan-macguire]

Polite Society, Valentine Style

Arthur Morgan x reader

Summary: Arthur brings the girls and Uncle into town

Warnings: an angry drunk, fighting

A/n: this is based on the mission “Polite Society, Valentine Style” :) I originally had the idea after replaying the mission and thinking about Arthur going to help the guy get his horse back to impress y/n hehe

Masterlist

Not my gif

Horseshoe overlook had begun to turn stale. Two weeks of nothing but Pearson’s stew and Uncle bumming around had nearly driven all of the girls at camp crazy. All you had to occupy yourselves with was chores, and Susan wouldn’t let you forget it. Karen and her were getting into more disputes than usual, and it was up to the rest of you to keep them from killing each other.

You’d need to get out soon, or you’d all loose your minds. So when you overheard Uncle trying to get Arthur to take him to town, you all jumped at the opportunity.

The plan was simple: Karen would go in first and you’d all just pry until Arthur said yes. Originally, Karen wanted you to go first. Her favorite past time seemed to be teasing you about Arthur. She wanted you to go first, insisting, “Arthur’ll do anything you ask,” but you protested. You argued that she’d be the better lead, and didn’t give her any time to argue back.

She didn’t miss the opportunity to point out the blush across your cheeks, of course. When Arthur finally agreed to take Uncle, you all knew it was now or never.

“If you’re going to take the old man to town, could you take us too?” Karen asked as you, Tilly, and Mary Beth walked up anxiously.

Arthur glanced to the four of you, pulling out a cigarette.

“Why, what you got planned?”

“Nothing.. We’ll find something for y’all to do. We always do.”

Arthur seemed unconvinced, so Mary Beth spoke up.

“We’re bores out of our minds! Been cooped up here for two weeks now.”

You nodded, approaching Arthur with the girls, “Karen’s about ready to murder Grimshaw,” Tilly let out a wholesome laugh at your comment, “don’t know how much longer we can hold her back.”

Arthur seemed amused, “Can Grimshaw spare you?”

With an exaggerated look of offense, Karen squared up to Arthur. “‘Can Grimshaw spare you?’ What’s happened to you, Arthur? Four young healthy women want you to take ‘em robbing, and you’re worried about house chores?”

Arthur‘s eyes flicked from Karen to you, searching for your input.

“She can’t yell at us if we aren’t here.” You added, sharing a subtle smirk with the cowboy.

With a low chuckle, he agreed to take the four of you along. With a cheer of excitement, the four of you raced towards the wagon. Arthur followed, hanging back. He waited for the rest of the girls to climb up. As you stepped up to the wagon, he held his hand out for you, assisting you up.

When Arthur left to climb up into the drivers seat, the girls erupted into giggles. You sat by Mary Beth, cheeks burning red with another blush. Karen didn’t hesitate to point this out, again, and you rolled your eyes with a laugh.

A few minutes into the ride, Uncle looked back to the four of you. “Ladies, sing us a song.”

Usually, none of you would do anything Uncle asked, but you were feeling good today. Karen led the rest of you in, singing “I got a girl in Berryville.”

You all shouted the words, excitement pooling in your bellies as you neared Valentine, but the song was cut short by a coach gone Haywire along the road. One of the horses got loose, and it galloped across the road into the trees. Arthur stopped the wagon in time before it came into contact with the horse.

“Is one of you gonna get that fellers horse?” Tilly called. Uncle pulled some lame excuse, claiming he had lumbago, and remained in his seat.

“Oh, won’t you help him, Arthur?” Mary Beth asked with a frown. Arthur looked back at the four of you, eyes landing on you. You glanced from the stranger to his horse, then back to Arthur with a pleading glint in your eyes.

Arthur climbed down from the wagon, announcing that he’d see what was going on. As he walked over to speak to the stranger, Karen gave your leg a gentle kick.

“He’s trying to impress you!” She spoke quietly, followed by a chorus of agreements from Tilly and Mary Beth.

You shook your head, trying to hide the pink that crept up your cheeks.

“Come on, y/n, we all know what’s going on between you two.” Tilly smiled.

You watched Arthur go after the runaway horse. “Nothin’s going on!”

The girls all rolled their eyes, laughing at your blush.

“Sure, and Uncle here has Lumbago.” Karen joked, earning an “It’s true!” From Uncle.

You all watched as Arthur calmed the horse with virtually no trouble, before taking hold of its reins and leading it towards the coach.

“Well done Arthur!” You couldn’t help but cheer in excitement. The girls all smirked at you, but you did your best to ignore them.

Arthur handed the Shire back to its owner, and returned to the wagon.

“You’re turning into a regular old Fairy Godmother there, Arthur.” Uncle joked.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Arthur tightened his grip on the reins, glancing to the old drunk.

“It means you’ve got a heart.” Mary Beth called out before she called Uncle a heartless old lizard.

“Lizards have hearts!” Uncle huffed, crossing his arms.

“Well, we’re proud of you, Arthur.” Tilly patted his shoulder.

“To be honest..” Arthur chuckled, “If you lot weren’t here, I probably would have robbed him.”

“I highly doubt that, Mr. Morgan.”

Arthur thanked the heavens that you couldn’t see his face. His own cheeks heated up at your comment, so he laughed it off and continued into town.

—

“Oooh yes, we can get up to some mischief here alright.” You looked around Valentine, enjoying seeing civilization for the first time in two weeks.

“Just remember to stay safe.. and keep a low profile.” Arthur warned, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

“Will you remember that though, Arthur?” You teased the cowboy.

He laughed, pulling on the reins to stop the wagon.

“Probably not. I’ll do my best.”

You all hopped off the wagon. Although you planned to accompany Arthur into the store, Karen dragged you away, telling you of some grand money making idea she had just thought of.

You and the girls all disappeared into the saloon after you exchanged a sheepish smile with Mr. Morgan himself.

—

Mary Beth woke Arthur up. She came to him and Uncle to tell them about a train robbery tip she had come across.

“Where’re the other girls?” Arthur asked Mary Beth, looking around the small town for you.

“I think at the hotel. They was picking up some drunken fellows that they was gonna rob.”

Arthur sat up straight, alarm bells ringing in his head. His eyes darted to the hotel, “Why?”

Mary Beth mumbled out a quiet “Seemed easy,” before furrowing her brows and looking over to the hold building, “They have been gone for quite a while..”

“I’ll go see if there’s any trouble.”

As Arthur stood up to go find you, he saw Tilly being dragged behind the building. He quickly excused himself, rushing over to stop the man from harassing Tilly. Tilly soon went to wait with Uncle and Mary Beth, while Arthur ventured inside the hotel. He was immediately greeted by Karen, counting a few dollar bills as she walked towards the exit.

“Hey Arthur!” She smiled, showing him what she acquired.

“Karen,” he noticed that she was alone, “where’s y/n?”

She shrugged, “She went into a room with some drunken fellow not too long ago. Should’ve been done by now.”

As if on cue, a loud crash sounded from overhead, followed by an frightened shout in a familiar voice. Arthur’s blood ran cold, and he rushed up the stairs to find the source of the sound. As he neared your room, he could hear a loud commotion on the other side of the door. Your voice was muffled, but became clearer and clearer as he got closer. The panic in your voice led his feet to room 2B.

“Get off of me!” You shouted through the door. Arthur tried the doorknob, but it was locked.

“I’m getting what I paid for.” He heard the man inside tell you. A moment later, Arthur heard a painful thud along with a cry of agony from you. Molten anger rolled through him, boiling in his stomach and roaring in his ears. The door didn’t stand a chance against Arthur Morgan.

When he finally got inside, Arthur seethed at the sight. If looks could kill, the stranger you’d picked up would be six feet below already.

You were on the ground, hands clutching your face. The stranger was standing in front of you with his fist raised in the air. “Who are you?” The man snapped. Arthur had to restrain himself from pulling out his revolver and putting a bullet in the mans brain that second. He refrained, favoring the alternate option to beat some manners into the drunk.

His hands were clenched into fists instantly, and he was surprised steam wasn’t flowing from his ears, “A friend of hers, you goddamn animal.”

You crawled to the corner of the room to stand yourself up as Arthur swung at your attacker. The man faltered, but didn’t back down. He put up his own fists, throwing a sloppy punch in Arthur’s direction. You cried out when the punch landed on Arthur’s jaw, but neither of them paid any attention. The liquor had kicked in, causing the stranger to quickly loose his footing. Arthur was given the opportunity to hit him again, this time knocking him to the ground. Arthur straddled the stranger, relentlessly punching him in the face.

It wasn’t until you cried out again, rushing to grab onto Arthur’s arm, did he stop hitting the man.

“Don’t kill him, Arthur! The law will be hot on our tail.”

Arthur’s face softened as he looked up at you. He was off the unconscious man in an instant, coming to your side.

“What the hell were you doing here?” He asked, reaching to examine your new black eye.

“Trying to play him. Not very well, I guess.” You frowned, looking down to the floor in shame.

“You okay?” His hands fell from your face reluctantly.

With a short nod, you tried to turn away from him. Arthur stopped you, gently tilting your head so you’d look at him.

“You sure?”

Your voice wavered slightly, but you did your best to push through it as you pulled away from his hands. “Yeah. It’s nothing.. nothing to worry about, it’s just.. men. The stupid bastard. Stupid bastard was boasting about the bank. He said he made big money there, lots of it.” The room grew quiet for a moment while you took a deep breath, “I don’t know, I just- I thought he’d be an easy score. I thought he’d have lots of cash on him.” Tears pooled in your eyes, but you held them back. Of course, nothing went unnoticed by Arthur.

“C’mere,” he opened his arms, gently bringing you into his warm chest. “It’s alright, you’re alright.”

If Arthur hadn’t come to find you, you’d be in serious trouble. You shuddered at the thought of what the man could have done, and swore at yourself for getting into such a situation in the first place.

“Thank you, Arthur.” You mumbled into his jacket.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it,” he told you, “I’m just glad you’re alright.”

“Let’s get outta here.” You reluctantly separated yourself from Arthur, sparing one more look at the drunk sprawled out on the floor. Arthur sure had done a number on him, you were thankful he had shown up when he did.

Arthur offered you his arm to grasp on to and led you out of the hotel.

#rdr2 arthur #rdr2 #rdr #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan red dead redemption 2 #arthur x reader #red dead redemption #arthur rdr #arthur #morgan #polite society valentine style