#Beautiful and entertaining as always hon!

[theanonymousninja247]

AKA the Apocalyptic version of “WhY iS iT sPicY?!”

Replica wip! When you're excited to taste the first snowflake of winter, but it's actually just ash from your brother's giant explosion. D:

Sorry I’ve been a little quiet. Been working hard on Replica and dealing with plenty of social obligations but it’s coming along! So excited to finally finish this and get back onto the main storyline though I will miss these boys.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Dirty Work 35

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.

Characters: Loki

Note: ah, we arrive at the Odinson stronghold.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

"Remember the rules, pet," Mr. Laufeyson reminds you as you pass beneath an iron archway covered in ivy and roses. 

"Yes..." your voice trails off as your mouth falls open in awe.

It's a fairytale. Even more beautiful than his own garden. There's a fountain at the center of the long drive, round hedges framing it and mosaic stone all around. Petals flutter on bushes and grass sprawls all around, marble statues and stone benches speckled over the expanse. The house is built of white brick with figures of sprites and elk along the facade.

"...Mr. Laufeyson," you finish breathily.

"Yes, it is rather marvelous," he says without genuine reverence. "I assume mother will be using it as her venue for Walpurgisnacht, however, she may just as easily book the banquet hall in the next city."

"Oh," you utter.

"Not to worry, she will likely have much sorted out already. It's why I wonder at her insistence that you accompany me. She is ever decisive and much prefers doing things by her own hand," he steers around the curve of the drive and stops just before the steps. "Suppose we must take it in stride."

He flips the engine and it quiets. Birds cheep and insects hum just outside. He unclicks his seatbelt and you mirror him, climbing out just a hair after he does. You turn to gape up at the facade once more as you shut the door gently.

Mr. Laufeyson comes around and heaves, "well, then--"

"Should I get the bags?"

"Don't bother, the help will deal with it," he assures and points you ahead.

He walks beside you, stretching his neck as he pushes his head side to side. He extends his fingers and rolls his shoulders. Still the tension nestles once more in his posture. You take the steps one at a time and fall a pace behind him. He marches ahead to the doors and waits for you to catch up before he pulls it open.

You step inside and quickly slip off your shoes as you eye the shining floor. It's just as immaculate, if not more, than his estate. You try to imagine how long it would take you to clean it on your own. Maybe that's why you're here.

"Darlings," Frigga trills as she appears in an archway to your left, "oh, you have arrived."

She goes to you first and kisses both your cheeks, barely glancing off your chin. Then she turns to Laufeyson and cradles his cheeks as she admires him, "I'm so happy you came."

"Mmm, and father knows we were invited?"

"Of course," she tuts as she draws away from him, "tell me, have you eaten? You were on the road such a long time. I have cucumber sandwiches and some iced berry tea."

"I'm not hungry," Laufeyson mutters as he peers around, almost expectantly.

"What about you, hon?" She takes your hand.

"Um, I..." you look to Laufeyson for your answer but your stomach growls before you can answer. 

"Feed her," he says as he flutters his fingers, "get her settled. I think I can keep myself entertained."

You frown guiltily. You didn't mean to disobey him. His eyes dull with that unimpressed haze as he turns on his heel and strides away. 

"I believe your brother is outside," she calls after him.

"Thank you for warning me," Laufeyson as he scoffs and disappears through another doorway.

"Ugh, boys," she chides, "pray you only ever have one son, though a brood is never a bad thing."

She turns, her hand still around yours as she drags you through the gilded archway. You let her as you drink in the beauty around every corner and crevice. This is like a dream. You've never seen anything like it. Not outside movies. You remember that one you watched on cable with Anne Hathaway. You only saw half before your father shut it off.

"Please sit," she takes you to the long white island and gestures to a tall velvet stool, "Loki didn't say if you were coming or not. I'm so happy you did."

She releases you and goes to the other counter, takes a scalloped plate and fills it with all sorts of food from platters. She brings it to you and watches you across the narrow island. "So, tomorrow, I must look at flowers. We have a healthy supply in the greenhouse but I think a few exotic breeds would do well. Then we will go to the bakery to arrange desserts and the like. Oh, the winery may need to wait until Sunday..."

She tallies off her to-dos as you nod along. Her own long list jumbles with your own in your head. You blink at her as she prattles on.

"Darling, please eat," she interrupts herself, "anyhow, as I was saying, perhaps we could make a special day of it. A day at the winery then the spa."

You nibble on the corner of the cucumber sandwich, grateful for the excuse not to respond. You doubt she'd hear you if you did. Your stomach roars in delight as you feed it, only then realising how hungry you truly are. You weren't very concerned with your appetite as the motion of the car roiled your stomach but now, you're ravenous.

Your mind wanders back to the long drive. You turn your gaze away, afraid Frigga might see your thoughts. The same sets in as the memory sinks in your brain. You can't believe you did that to him. While he was driving, too.

"Oh, goodness me, you must be so tired and hear I am blabbing your ear off," she clucks, "I forgot the tea... unless you prefer wine."

"Tea," you answer abruptly, recalling the last time you drank. You won't give Mr. Laufeyson any reason for distaste. "Thank you."

"Aw, so polite, dear," she preens, "are you excited for Walpurgisnacht?"

You twist your lips and swallow a mouthful, "um, sure... what is it?"

"My, I didn't even think," she pours a glass of deep red iced tea into a tall glass. She nears you again and places it by your plate. "May Eve. It's a celebration of Springtime, to embrace love and fertility."

"Mm, oh," you furrow your brow. That's odd.

"Yes, we will have many visitors to help us celebrate. And some games too. Mostly drinking and food, as is our way," she explains, "I can't believe this will be your first Walpurgisnacht! How delightful."

You nod and take another bite. It's almost nice how she assumes most things aren't a first for you. How she treats you like somehow you belong here.

"I didn't even think," she taps her manicured finger on the marble, "I should've invited your father. I know he's sick but it is always good to have family close."

You almost choke. You gulp and lower your eyes. You reach for the tea to wash away the sudden bitter taste on your tongue.

"Oh, I hope... I hope he is okay," she says.

"He's... he's fine," you sniff, "he's... mad at me. We aren't... we aren't speaking."

"How tragic," she touches her chest, "Loki didn't say a word. Well, then... dear, are you alright? Where are you staying?"

Your chest sinks. Of course, he wouldn't talk to her about you and explain everything that's gone rotten. You are still just the house manager to her.

"Mr. Laufeyson kindly offered--"

"Oh, I know, I know he would," she sounds ready to cry, "my son can be so caring. It's a pity he holds it in."

"Yeah, uh, it's very nice of him," you pick away a stip of crust.

"I didn't mean to bring up sour grapes," she says, "I'm sure everything will be alright. These things happen. Families fight but they always come back together. Gosh, if only you knew the state Loki left in last time. He and his father had such a row. Not to mention he wouldn't even speak with his own brother for well over a year. Stubborn."

You look at her in surprise. It's not that Laufeyson isn't cold and distant, it's just that you didn't expect all that information dumped on you. You want to ask why but know better than that.

"I only hope things go better this time," she says.

You nod and pick up a grape from the plate. You really hope so too. As long as you follow the rules, it should.

✨

After you eat, Frigga takes you on a tour of the immense house. You don’t remember where most things are as you remain astonished by the grandeur. You can barely imagine spending the night. The thought that she lives here every day is astounding. She is the luckiest woman in the world.

She takes you up the wide staircase with its curved banisters and shows you the upper floor. You yawn behind your hand, caught as she peeks back at you. You drop your hand and smile, flicking your eyes as you try to seem more awake.

“Oh dear, are you tired?” She preens, “let us show you your room.”

“It’s okay–”

“Rest is important, and a part of Walpurgisnacht. It’s about renewal so you must take care,” she reproaches, “I made up a room just for you.”

“You did?” You murmur as she waves you ahead.

“Oh, yes, of course, like I said, I’ve been looking forward to this very much,” she chimes, “just here,” she opens the left side of a double door. You admire the patterns carved beneath the layer of champagne-tinted paint. “I believe the staff will have brought your bags already.”

“Um, thank you,” you smile nervously, “it’s all very wonderful…” You gaze around the room, “it’s too much.”

“Not at all,” she touches your arm gently, “I know my son can be a stickler, whoever knows where he got that from. You are here to enjoy yourself.”

“Thanks,” you rub your palms together, “for everything. It’s so nice.”

“Certainly dear,” she touches your cheek gently, “should you need anything, you can tap this button.” She points to a tiny silver button by the light switch, “Hilde will be around.”

“Hilde,” you nod, “okay. I think I’ll be fine.”

“Oh, you are so sweet,” she preens, “please don’t hesitate to ask for anything.” She squeezes your shoulder, “please make yourself at home.”

She leaves you with a gentle click of the door. You hesitate at the threshold, terrified of tainting the perfection of the room. There’s a four-postered bed, the sort you dreamed about as a girl, with a white frame and bedding in the same hue, trimmed in silver. The night tables have curled feet and a matching wardrobe stands against the wall. 

There’s a vase of flowers arranged on the vanity and a rug with dainty roses patterned on it beneath the foot of the bed. Each piece matches the next, gilded in silver, with a touch of colour here and there. The windows are tall and open, letting in the last of the morning hues. You are overwhelmed with the sheer beauty of this place.

Your luggage stands beside the bed. Just yours. Does that mean you’ll be sleeping alone? Perhaps that is for the better. It wouldn’t be seemly for Mr. Laufeyson to be commingling so closely with his house manager.

You should find him and let him know which room is yours. You go to the door and stop yourself. It feels wrong to go off roving through the house. No, you should stay and listen. You’re certain he wouldn’t be far from you. That only makes sense, doesn’t it?

You linger by the door, ear to the crack between the doors as you listen to the house. Nothing more than a distance scuff here or there. Not until you hear hinges catch for just a moment. You hold your breath and try to see between the doors but can’t.

Footsteps, long and deliberate. That has to be Laufeyson, right? You hope that it is. You wait for them to pass before you open the door and peek out. Oh no! It’s not Mr. Laufeyson.

Before you can retreat and hide, the gray-haired man stops. He has broad shoulders and his arms are bent behind him, one hand balled in another. You gulp and slowly pull back but it’s too late as the man pivots on his heel.

“I suppose my son told you it was best to avoid me,” the man says, his tone rigid but not unkind.

“Um,” you let go of the door and step up, slumping your shoulders as you stare at his suede slippers. “No, sir, I only… thought you were Mr. Laufeyson.”

“Mr. Laufeyson,” he scoffs, “you must be the one my wife spoke so highly of.”

“Sir,” you dip your head lower.

“Odin,” he offers as he comes closer, little by little, as if approaching a skittish deer, “father of Mr. Laufeyson,” he snorts and offers his hand, “and your name?”

You accept his hand meekly and mutter your name. He grips you firmly, warmly and gives a short shake. He keeps a hold of your hand and turns it, placing his other hand over your knuckles.

“Let me have a look at you,” he urges you into the hall, “my eyes aren’t as good as they used to be.”

You let him lead you further out. You bite your lip and exhale. You unpinch your teeth and lift your head. You look at him, squirming as he considers you. His steely hair is brushed back from his face and small coils gather behind his ears and neck. His eyes are blue and vibrant, like Thor’s, and his face is creased with and determination.

“Now,” he smiles, “how did my son capture a lovely creature like you?”

“Sir?”

“Please, Odin will do nicely,” he pats your hand, “may I use your name?”

“Yes, s– Yes, Odin,” you correct yourself.

“Wonderful, it’s a beautiful name,” he brings your hand up and kisses it, “it fits you well.”

He finally lets you go and you feel your cheek burn. You don’t know how to react. With everything you heard, you expected a horrible, grumpy old man. Someone like your own father. Yet, he’s just as pleasant as Frigga. 

“Thank you,” your lips curve just a little.

“Polite little thing,” he muses, “do you like chocolate?”

“Pardon?” You’re taken aback by his question.

“Chocolate,” he repeats, “Loki hasn’t much of a sweet tooth and the other one would devour them all. I’ve got some truffles, would you like one?”

“Well, I… er,” you rub your neck, “I wouldn’t want to bother,” you stammer.

“Bother? Why ever would I ask if it was?” He dismisses, “you are my guest, I do prefer to know those who are staying under my roof. I would be a shit guest otherwise.”

You scrunch your lips up at his profanity. He notices the wince and he chuckles, bring his fingertips to his chin, “excuse my language.”

“It’s okay,” you assure him, “um, sure, I will have some chocolate… Odin.”

“Ah, wonderful, just this way,” he points you towards the other end of the hall, “this is part of the trap you see,” he says as he ushers you along, “I keep them in my office.”

He laughs and you join in thinly. You’re not sure he’s entirely kidding. He shows you into his office. The decor is wrought in gold and oak. It reminds you a little of Laufeyson’s study in the style, but not the colours.

“You will have your chocolate,” he assures as he closes the door, “but first, you will tell me how you ended up with that son of mine.” He strides around the desk as you hover across from him. He pulls out a drawer as you clasp your hands tight. You can’t tell him everything.

“How…” you utter.

“Yes,” he pulls out a square red box, “he hardly seems your type.”

“Oh, well, I am only his house manager,” you shrug.

“Sure, if that’s what he tells you to say, say it,” he tuts, “but it doesn’t mean I must believe it.”

You drop your head and frown. You’re a poor liar but you don’t dare tell the truth. He sighs and you peek up from under your lashes.

“Not to worry, I keep a promise,” he comes around and offers the open box of truffles, “this one is dark with raspberry, you might like it? Or this one, strawberry and cream,” he points to a dark bulb, then a white one sprinkled with pink sugar, “perhaps you will surprise me.”

You shyly reach for the box and pick out the plainest of the bunch. You thank him quietly and stare at the treat. He knows you’re lying and he’s still being kind. You wish you could tell him the truth, maybe he could help you understand it. Yet, the thought of saying it all out loud suffocates you in flames.

“Crushed toffee,” he says, “my favourite.”

“Oh, uh,” you hold it out.

“No, no, you have it,” he insists as he strolls back around his desk, “I am hardly interested in talking about my son, so let us not dwell on him. Tell me about you.”

“Me?” You blink.

“Yes. Do you read? Do you enjoy music? What are your favourites?”

You stand there, holding the truffle, speechless. You don’t know what to say. You are boring. No one ever cared about any of those things, so much so, that you never much thought of them yourself.

“Please, sit,” he takes his own advice and lowers himself into the leather chair, “enjoy your chocolate, then you may answer my questions.”

[whoblewboobear]

Girl dad!Porter and wine husband!Jace who both get very into being on the PTA much to everyone else’s frustration. It’s a miracle they don’t get kicked off with how often Porter rages during these meetings. His daughter came home one day and said they cut funding to the theater dept so the spring musical is off. Jace gets particularly pissed about this and makes Porter stay up all night to help him plan to pitch a bake sale to raise money.

They actually manage to put something together before Jace gets too distracted by Porter’s traveling hands.

The PTA votes in favor of the bake sale, but appoint Jace to run it. He was born for this. He wasn’t going to bake anything, that’s Porter’s job. But he was born to tell people what to do.

Or he thought so until stress is giving him such bad morning sickness. Porter makes him take a break, staying in bed and watching movies with all his favorite snacks and drinks at the ready. Jace can just make out the sound Porter and Sierra causing chaos in the kitchen. He can’t help but wrap himself up in a blanket and join the fun. Sierra lights up when she sees her stepdad enter the kitchen.

“Jace!! Tell dad the cookies need icing, pleaseeeee?!” She flashes him the famous Cliffbreaker puppy dog eyes and he gives a pointed look to Porter. “Icing, Hon. You heard her.”

Porter chuckles. “Alright, alright. Two against one.” Jace beams, shuffling over and rising to his tip toes to press a kiss to Porter’s cheek. “Always.”

Sierra throws a marshmallow at them, “gross!” Porter tosses one back and Jace watches in horror as an all out topping tossing war breaks out. He does take this chance while they’re distracted to steal a freshly iced cookie from the rack on the counter. Porter notices, but he’s just happy Jace seems to be feeling better.

The bake sale was a lot of pressure. He saw how badly Jace wanted this to go well. It was sweet and incredibly kind of him. He loved how Jace loved Sierra like she was his own kid. He bent over backwards to make sure she was happy and cared for. It also opened up the conversation for them to discuss a second child. Jace liked the idea well enough, he was great with Sierra, but she was 13. A baby is a whole different ball game that he wasn’t sure he was equipped for. But Porter’s baby fever was very cute.

When he was particularly lost in it, he’d make love to him, whispering that Jace would look beautiful carrying his baby. It felt so good he almost wondered what he’d look like pregnant. Porter doting on him and talking to his belly, decorating a nursery.. After the bake sale he’d entertain the idea.

[vaggietheangel]

Chaggie week day four: Discussion/Trust 🌸

"Today was so much fun! Sure, we had a rough start with the interview, but things came around. We have three new people helping us." Charlie hummed is she hung up her suit jacket.

"Yeah, that's true." Vaggie hummed as she brushed out her hair.

Charlie looked over her shoulder with a smile. "Plus, with the radio demon living here, people will stop bothering us. They won't wanna make us made with an overlord on our side." She giggled as she picked out a comfy pair or pyjamas, with a picture of spongebob on the T-shirt.

"You make a good point hon." Vaggie smiled weakly.

Charlie looked at her girlfriend friend a moment. Her smile seemed off. It wasn't big and as beautiful as it usually was.

"What's wrong, Vaggie? You seem upset." Charlie asked with a concerned look in her eyes.

"It's just...I don't trust him. I don't trust any of them. We have no idea what they're really planning for us." Vaggie sighed as she sat down on the bed sheets.

"I get that. I've made the decision to trust Alastor, but it hard. We don't really know what he wants to do. But I'm taking his word that he's helping for his own entertainment." Charlie reasoned.

"It seems like the kind of thing he'd do." Charlie hoped that would bring her girlfriend some peace of mind.

"Maybe... but why would he bring those two along to help? They have to be up to something. Husk is a known kingpin, and he could attract gamblers to the hotel." Vaggie rubbed her shoulder nervously.

She knew Husk was one to cheat at any game he played. What if some angry sinner came after him to start a fight?

Charlie placed her hand on Vaggie's shoulder. "Well, if that happens, I can sort things out. Maybe I can even convince them to stay." There was a hopeful twinkle in her eye's.

Vaggie's smile was now more warm and genuine. Charlie could make friends with pretty much anyone.

"Did you think that woman was strange too? She seemed way too eager to be working for the radio demon. She must have done some messed up stuff for him to trust her." She worried.

"You're probably right, but she seems very friendly. There's definitely good in her. All she seems to wanna do is clean and keep us fed." Charlie smiled.

"I know... I'm just so worried that they're gonna mess this up. Trusting them is so risky. We hardly know them, and the things we do aren't great." Vaggie's leg bocuned nervously.

Charlie wrapped her arm around Vaggie's wasit and drew her in. Stroking her hair in an attempt to sooth her.

"Everything we're doing is risky. But I'm willing to take that risk. My people need me to help them." The tall woman spoke softy.

"I just don't want to see the most important thing in your life be destroyed." Vaggie rested her head on her shoulder.

Charlie turned to face her lover and cupped her face in her hands. "That's not possible because I'll always protect you."

Vaggie's smile grew much brighter. She leaned in for a gentle, soft kiss.

[hunterwritesstuff]

Alison?

Sure! :D

Pre-fall of studio:

Hunter: "It's okay, hon...you don't have to apologize for anything."(Family)

Sammy: "Treat him well, Lawrence."(Tension)

Joey: "Tom's been acting weird lately...avoiding talking about work, having panic attacks if he wakes up without me at his side...what's going on?"(Tension)

Rebecca: "Thank you, but I'm nowhere near comparable to the original."(Friendly)

Bruce: "A disgusting excuse of a man."(Tension)

Marcy: "WHY AREN'T YOU DOING ANYTHING?"(Tension)

Susie: "I'm sorry...so very...very sorry..."(Tension)

Tom: "Hey...it's okay, hon...I'm not going anywhere..."(Loved)

Wally: "He's funny!"(Friendly)

Kenneth: "A very entertaining man!"(Friendly)

John: "Please make sure my husband doesn't do anything rash, okay...?"(Friendly)

Henry: "I never really got to meet him, but...everyone seems to like him, so I like him too."(Friendly)

Norman: "He's got quite juicy stories to tell!"(Friendly)

Bertrum: "A grand man of grand reknown."(Respect)

Lacie: "Hell yeah, more women in the industry! I know it probably wasn't easy."(Friendly)

Mary: "Thank you!"(Friendly)

GENT(The company): "Why is my husband so jumpy?"(Tension)

Barley(Hunter's bio dad): "I've heard wonderful things..."(Friendly)

Grant: "Poor guy..."(Friendly)

Betty: "I'm glad you're so nice to Susie..."

Post-fall of studio:

Hunter: "You're still welcome with us, kiddo..."(Family)

Sammy: "What happened to you...?"(Feared)

Joey: "Liar."(Tension)

Rebecca: "It....It'll be okay..."(Friendly)

Bruce: "A terrible excuse of a father. Stepfather or not."(Hated)

Marcy: "You never did anything."(Hated)

Susie: "You always were beautiful...why can't you see that?"(Tension)

Tom: "Oh, hon...it's okay..."(Loved)

Wally: "Oh..."(Tension)

Kenneth: "You never deserved any of this..."(Friendly)

John: "oh...so that's what happened to you..."(Friendly)

Henry: "wow...he's so...kind..."(Friendly)

Norman: "They...they ruined you..."(Tension)

Bertrum: "God..."(Tension)

Lacie: "nobody deserves that fate..."(Tension)

Mary: "I wish we could go back...but I have a feeling you don't feel the same."(Tension)

GENT(The company): "You ruined my husband."(Hated)

Barley(Hunter's bio dad): "I hope I can match your bravery when the going gets tough."(Respect)

Grant: "..."(Tension)

Betty: "I'm sorry you had to get involved."(Tension)

[vietnamexcursions-blog]

Plan your trip to Halong city wisely

Cruise Halong bay - Many visitors coming back from Halong complaining about the quality of service and prices here, I would like to share some opinion. Hope to receive more positive feedback from you.

Confusion between names of areas: Halong - Bai Chay - Hon Gai

Halong is the name of a city in Quang Ninh province, including 2 main areas (developed in tourism and most known): Bai Chay and Hon Gai, separated by Bai Chay bridge. Bai Chay: is a center of tourism, including many entertainment and recreational activities; beach bars and pubs; Night market for tourists to play all night without getting bored.

Many villas and hotels close to the beach, sea view, near the park.

The beach is wide, long, beautiful, and crowded Hon Gai: mainly residents and public administrative areas, many delicious restaurants with cultural characteristics of Halong, many hotels and cheaper prices than Bai Chay. If you need to move to Bai Chay, it will take about 15 minutes.

Confusion about prices when booking services

Many tourists often think that they should book services through the owners (of the villas) or directly at the reception (hotels, homestays) for peace of mind and cheap prices. However, that is not beneficial for you. Instead of booking through the owner, you should book through reputable agents to get more favorable prices (including hotels, homestays, villas or yachts, Gulf tours, Sunworld tickets,…). So if you travel to Halong, just book through a reputable agent, both peace of mind and leisure.

Why did I check carefully but still ended up being scammed?

There are many reputable Halong travel forums, so you can check the reputation of the booking agent you want to book through. However, in reality, there are many tools that can create fake likes and comments, so scammers can completely spam dozens of "reputable" comments on your post, before reputable agents can. So please take it easy and wait for reputable agents to check for you before making the booking.

Think that street food stalls, small eateries, small restaurants or those bought at the market are cheap

Many people think that going to sidewalk restaurants will be cheap, but when going to big restaurants, they will be charged expensive prices. However, this is not always true, especially in some shops around the tourist center area because in fact there are many customers who think it's cheap and come to experience it but complain because the price is still the same as the restaurant's price. not delicious, not air conditioned and not good service.

In fact, there are also many sidewalk shops that sell really cheap because they don't spend too much on renting space or labor. As for restaurants, they have to spend a lot of money to serve their business activities. When customers come to dine, they can freely use services such as air conditioning, table-to-table service, without having to bother choosing food and cooking for themselves… So when you go to a restaurant, That means I'm spending money to buy both food and service and the price in the restaurant will almost double, even at high-end restaurants the price of seafood is 3 times higher than the price of seafood. Buy yourself at the market. Of course, that is completely normal. So, please don't think that just going to a restaurant will be "expensive". Expensive but worth it.

Confusion between restaurants in Sunworld Old Town area The Old Quarter now has many shops and bustling businesses. However, there are a few restaurants with names similar to the names of two famous restaurant brands of Halong, Hong Hanh and Ngoc Phuong Nam, and many restaurants with the name "Halong Tran Chau Yogurt", which are not the same. Genuine facilities of the major brands mentioned above. There are many cases where you read reviews of people who have traveled to Halong before, but did not carefully research the correct addresses of reputable shops, so there have been many times when big brands have been "disreputed". Many other tourists who did not clearly understand the situation also left a few disparaging comments in the comments section, saying that the other brands had enough to eat.

So we hope that when you travel, please research carefully and go to the right addresses of delicious eateries and restaurants to enjoy true cuisine and no longer have to complain about the quality and food service in Halong.

Compare seafood prices between cities

People who come to Halong to travel often compare the price of seafood in Halong with Nha Trang, Sam Son, Cua Lo,… However you will find that the taste of seafood in Halong is different from other coastal areas. Halong sea in particular and Quang Ninh in general are mainly Gulf sea water, with many rocky reefs, corals and calm waves, so the source of marine flora and fauna is extremely rich. Therefore, seafood also has a richer and sweeter taste than other regions. So, please don't compare Halong's seafood prices with other places, go to reputable places in Halong to enjoy seafood to see that price goes hand in hand with quality.

Compare the price of seafood purchased at the market with the price in the restaurant - Compare seafood prices between restaurants.

When you visit Halong city, you often have two trends: go to a restaurant to enjoy seafood or buy seafood from the market to cook at your homestay or hotel. After that, most people will judge that seafood in the market is cheaper. As mentioned above, it is cheaper because you have to "serve" yourself, but when you enter the restaurant, you are served, so that's the difference. In fact, I live in Halong and still eat seafood at the same price as everyone else. In the market or restaurant, they don't differentiate between locals and tourists so it's important that customers choose a reputable restaurant.

When you come to Halong, you will often look at the price list between restaurants to judge whether it is expensive or cheap. But there are many types of seafood: type 1, type 2, type 3,… or big size, small size,… For example it's the same crab, but some sell blue crabs (the most delicious type), some sell flower crabs or moon crabs (the less delicious type), or crabs of 4 pieces/kg are also different from the type of 6-7 pieces/kg.

So, please don't just look at the price list and compare expensive - cheap, in Halong we will say "reasonable seafood prices", try to experience the reality of both seafood quality and service quality. to make the most accurate comments. You can choose some reputable and famous restaurants such as: Ngoc Phuong Nam, Hong Hanh, Cua Vang, Talata, Son Doong, Bimone, Huong Duyen… or some other reputable and familiar restaurants. with indigenous people such as Green Tree Restaurant, Luc Cua Beer, Tho Restaurant, Thanh Rau, Trong Ha,…

Above are some explaination to the questions I saw in recent time when visitors came back from Halong. If there are any other things that make you want to know when traveling to Halong, please comment below.

Source: https://cruise-halong-bay.com/blog/some-facts-about-halong-travel-visitors-need-to-know.asp

[midnightsxxvi]

For you, From Westview

(Chapter 1)

Series Masterlist

Summary - There was a peculiar loneliness that came with being a housewife in Westview. Things seemed normal, but something wasn't right, and things seemed cheerful, but the world still felt grey. After dinner one evening, Wanda calls.

"Any word from James? Did he ever respond to your last letter?

His name cuts through, piercing you blue. Images of a soldier flash before you

A/N - Hi folks!! This is for @pellucid-constellations 's writing challenge. I ended up getting carried away with the idea, and now have a whole long fic set out... The challenge involves including a "love letter" into your fic, which right away got me thinking about letters from war. This first chapter is my submission to the challenge. Any following chapters will not be official submissions because I honestly don't know how long this will be. This is set during the same time as WandaVision (so three weeks after endgame) and TFATWS has not happened yet, so take Bucky and Sam interactions with a grain of salt I guess!

Pairing - Bucky x fem!reader; Bucky x avenger!reader (Friends to enemies to ??? something??)

Warnings - cursing. angst.

Word Count - 2.9k

───※ ·❆· ※───

Westview - 1950~

Your home was quiet, the morning grey and lonely. Another day in your normal little home, although you couldn’t quite pinpoint the month.

What a peculiar thing, to wake up and not know what month it was.

It was summer, that much you were sure of. You were sure because it was your summer holiday from teaching. The break was well deserved, so much so that you felt you hadn’t even thought about the school in so long. So long that you could barely remember a thing from the last school year.

Anyway, it didn’t matter now. It was summer, and you were alone in the morning with only the sounds of some birds tweeting out the open window.

You weren’t fond of the way that despite the warm sun the world still felt grey. Maybe it’d been this way all along, or maybe just since you’d been alone.

You couldn’t pinpoint why you were alone. It was just a fact. As simple as that. Alone for the summer is just how it’s been and there was nothing much to do about it.

The morning schedule proceeded as usual. You enjoyed the openness of your home, the grand windows, and the open floor plan; being able to cook breakfast while the radio played. Maybe once there were people here, sitting on the lounge chairs as you cooked and entertained. Oh, how cozy the fireplace would be in the winter, the snow bright and beautiful in the windows behind.

You placed your hair in an updo, cursing yourself for not setting it in curlers the night before because now it just didn’t look right. Still, you fixed up your makeup, dressed as you should, and set forth for the day.

Just as you opened the front door to walk towards nothing in particular, the newspaper boy rode by on his bike, tossing the rolled-up paper your way. You waved and he smiled. Unrolling it, the day read Wednesday, August 23.

There wasn’t much you wanted to read on. You knew the war was continuing; a brief glance at a headline taught you that much, and your heart lurched, an ache deep within that you ignored for now.

The call of your name alerted you. Glancing around, you realized your neighbor, Dottie Jones, was smiling politely from her own front porch.

Even though you didn’t want to, you stepped down from your porch to walk toward the fence to greet her.

“Good morning, hon,” she smiled a bit too brightly, and you returned it best you could.

Mrs. Hart and her husband, Phil, were good neighbors to you and did a lot within the community. Her crisp white blonde hair was always styled perfectly, and you cringed at the thought of your own this morning.

Dottie worked at the school with you, and Phil worked in town but also taught piano, a sound you could hear coming from their home in the evenings if you opened the window. Nothing sounded wrong with them on the outside, but you knew how Dottie was quite judgmental and that her smile was usually ingenuine.

“Plans for the day?” She asked, tilting her head to the side in a manner that annoyed you. Perhaps you were just bitter and alone, but whatever.

“Not sure,” you admitted, smoothing your skirt, and squinting on the sunny day.

“Summer holiday treating you well? I feel as though I haven’t seen you out and about for

a while!” I’m out all the time, you thought defensively, although you couldn't quite place the last outing you really had. Gone to the library, perhaps?

You settled on saying, “Reading a lot.”

“Hm. Lovely.” It didn’t seem like she thought that was lovely. “Are you coming to the talent show in two days?”

“Oh?” You paused, trying to remember if you’d even heard. She’d be so critical if you said no, or if you admitted you didn’t even know it was happening, so you said, “Of course.”

“Brilliant!” She beamed, “Tickets are almost sold out, so I just would worry if you weren’t able to make it. It’s for the children, after all.”

“Right. For the children,” you tried to mimic her smile, but it felt unnatural.

She hummed again, an uncomfortable silence falling between you for a moment. “How’s your husband?”

It was at this question that you felt truly taken aback, almost frozen.

My husband, you thought questioningly, wondering why he hadn’t occurred to you all morning. The lonely feeling was there constantly, but you hadn’t realized you truly missed him until now.

“I haven’t heard from him lately,” you admitted, your mouth tight lipped in concern.

She looked as though she pitied you, “Oh, hon. Not a word? Well, I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about. The war’s a busy effort.”

The war, you recalled. Yes, that’s where he was. Off at war. It’s why the paper headline hurt, and it’s why you woke up alone.

The smile on your face was probably transparently uncomfortable, and you didn’t really care. “Well, Dottie,” you sighed, “I best be going. Errands to run.”

“Of course. I’ll see you later! Can’t wait for the talent show!”

“Me too. Good day, Dottie,” you waved before moving across the steps in the lawn, hoping that you’d remember to get the damn tickets for the show, otherwise you were sure she’d show up at your doorstep to ridicule you or something.

You walked down the street, unsure of exactly where you were headed, but a wave of panic was falling around you no matter how hard you pushed it away.

Images of a soldier flashed past your eyes, and you needed a moment. You found a bench, realizing you were already blocks from home, the town center just a short distance away. How had that movement gone so fast? Luckily nobody was around to see you place your face in your hands as you sat, wondering what on earth was wrong.

There was a soldier somewhere, his hat slightly crooked in your memory. Once upon a time the world wasn’t so grey. You once loved the color blue, and you missed it dearly although you couldn't place why. There was once a man with a charming smile and a laugh you couldn’t get enough of. There was friendship out there that you missed, and you swore you once felt the battle ground he was probably on now.

He hadn’t written, your husband. Why hadn’t he written?

Although there was no way it could be a real memory, you swore you could see the soldier, and more around him, a group of people you somehow felt connected to. He had to be okay. They all had to be.

But somewhere deep down you knew it wasn’t so. There was no way they were all going to come home.

───※ ·❆· ※───

Brooklyn, 2023

“She’s what?” Bucky sat up from where he lied on his makeshift bed in the living room, “What the hell are you even talking about, Sam?”

On the other end of the line, Sam huffed, “Listen, Buck, I don’t know. Just can you get to New Jersey? I can send for you–”

Bucky cut off with a disgusted groan, “Don’t call me that. Also, this has gotta be some sort of fluke. It’ll probably be fine tomorrow.”

“Quit bein’ like that. She isn’t the only one missing, there's another S.W.O.R.D. agent missing, and they all think Wanda is involved.”

“What the fuck is Sword?” Bucky grumbled and pinched at the bridge of his nose. “Listen, Wilson, I’ve got court mandated therapy and–”

“Just do a zoom therapy meeting.”

“What the fuck is zoom?”

Sam chuckled and it made Bucky want to kick something. “Just get here. I’ll send a jet.”

“No, no, don’t waste a jet.”

“Listen, old man, stop arguing with me. You’re coming and they’d like you here asap.”

“Why me?”

Sam paused, and Bucky did too, instantly knowing he shouldn’t have asked. It was a stupid question, really.

Sam spoke more quietly, “Whatever you tell yourself, you’re one of the most important people to her. You know her better than any of us.”

“That’s bullshit. You know I haven’t even fuckin’ talked to her since–”

“Stop it, Buck.”

“Stop calling me that. And before this, I was gone. She was fine without me for five years–”

Once again, Sam cut him off. “I’m hanging up now. We need you. She needs you. I’ll text you flight details.” Before Bucky could protest even more, the line was cut.

Bucky cursed under his breath, a bit too much and a bit too harshly, as he stared at his blank phone screen.

It had only been three weeks since he’d been back, and the past five years before that didn't exist to him, as it didn’t exist for many other people on the planet. Half of the people, to be exact.

He knew you didn’t need him. You’d be fine on your own. There was nothing he could bring to the table.

Still, he got the transportation info from Sam, and he got up with a grunt to go get his stuff together.

───※ ·❆· ※───

Back in Westview, you spent the rest of your day avoiding thoughts of your husband. The idea, I have a husband, was enough to set you off your rocker, so avoiding it was naturally the best choice. You grabbed new books from the library, a few groceries, somehow purchased a ticket for the talent show, and then you came home. Cooking dinner for one was only slightly depressing, but you did your best to enjoy yourself. The sunlight outside came to an end, and you wondered all evening if there was a time you had more to your life.

Just as you were cleaning up, the shrill ringing of the telephone shook you enough that you dropped a fork.

“Ah, fudge,” you frowned, thankful that it wasn’t a plate you had dropped. You ran to the phone, which felt like it hadn’t been used in a long time and you answered just before the last ring. “Hello?”

A familiar feminine voice spoke your name on the other end.

Your brows furrowed, “Wanda?”

“Hi,” she responded. “Sorry for calling so late. I just had the peculiar feeling that I should.”

Your eyes fluttered shut, a warm feeling within you for the first time all day. There was comfort from the simple sound of her voice; she was familiar and whole and something you didn’t know you missed. “It's alright. It’s good to hear from you.”

“Yes,” she sounded just as confused as you’d felt all day, “Vision and I just had dinner with his boss. It was rather strange… Anyway, I wanted to update you with our new address!”

Vision, you thought. You could somehow recall his voice yet not his face, and you wondered why it felt so long since you’d last seen him. “I wasn’t aware you had moved?”

“Why, yes! We are just loving it here in Westview. We are home number two-eight-zero-zero. Write that down, dear. Two-eight-zero-zero.”

Although you were pretty sure you wouldn’t forget, you reached as far as you could to grab a pen on the coffee table, writing it on a notepad that was handy. “Got it. Lovely.”

“You truly shall visit. I miss you. I’m so glad to be so close to each other again.”

Your voice faltered, “It- It’s felt like years. I miss you too.”

“What are you doing tomorrow?” There was hope in her voice. Her kindness was genuine, making you feel opposite from Dottie this morning.

“No clue,” you admitted.

“Oh, well then please do meet me for dinner?”

You glanced over to the sink, where your lonely dishes were, and did not even hesitate before saying, “I’d love to. Seven?”

“Perfect.”

You smiled, the warm feeling calming you.

“Oh!” her voice lit up momentarily before she asked in a softer manner, “Any word from James? Did he ever respond to your last letter?”

James.

The images from this morning were running through your mind again, but clearer now. Your eyes fluttered closed, and you took a seat on the arm of the couch.

His name didn’t feel right, but it was. You remembered the draft papers, his name written in bold, and you remembered the feel of the dog-tags he wore ever since, the engraving rough on your fingers.

“He hasn’t written back, no,” you admitted, your lip quivering as you were washed over with feelings unknown.

“Oh,” she hummed, “You know what? He’s okay.”

“You don't know that. I can’t even be sure that the letter even got to him,” you pressed your lips together, trying to hold back from crying.

“I know it,” she insisted. “I do. He’s okay. He just hasn’t found a way to get back to you yet.”

There wasn’t much more you could say to that. Partially since you felt like you were going to cry, and partially because you for some reason believed her. How could you argue against words that just felt so true? War is a busy effort.

Once again, she gently spoke your name.

“Yes?” You answered.

“You have a good night, okay? I will give you the biggest hug tomorrow.”

“You too, Wanda. Goodnight.”

───※ ·❆· ※───

Above Brooklyn, 2023

Although no one had taught Bucky the term left on read, that’s definitely what he had done to you, and he felt a lump in his throat any time he thought about it.

It was a short flight to New Jersey, which felt wasteful to him. He could’ve just as easily taken a car for a couple hours to get there. He spent the drive to the airport being grumpy and cursing Shield or Stark or Sword or whatever damn collective was funding this flight, for being so wasteful over resources.

It wasn’t until Bucky sat on the jet, staring out the lonely window, where he processed that he was on his way to some sort of investigation. And it was for you. He had been called in to help you.

His phone felt heavy in his pocket, thoughts of you unable to be pushed away. All Sam had really explained was that you’d somehow disappeared into a town where it seemed all the residents were also missing. Just that morning, S.W.O.R.D. had discovered a forcefield around it all, and it seemed you were inside.

Too much was unknown about it all, and he hated the fact that he was walking into it with so little info.

His brows heavily furrowed, Bucky pulled out his phone. Luckily, he never deleted your text from weeks ago. So easily he could’ve done so out of spite, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it, just like he couldn’t bring himself to really read past the first message in the thread, let alone reply.

Sam’s words were ringing through Bucky’s mind.

You know her better than any of us.

Due to lack of messages, Bucky found your texts easily. If you were missing, he supposed any information would help. So, reading the texts could be the least he could do, right?

Hey. Sam said this number still works for you, so i hope its fine that im texting? I know you didn’t want to talk much at the funeral but please reach out, I miss you.

I dont really know why you wont talk to me but thats okay. Just know i never stopped caring about you. I cant begin to imagine what youre going through. What happened is fucked up.

I know youre hurting over stark, even if you wont admit it. You were pardoned for a reason and i hope you know you deserve your freedom

I’m here for you, buck. I know that’s not enough but it’s all ive got.

Please call. I miss you.

next chapter

[jerzwriter]

Table Talk

Book: Open Heart (Post Series)

Pairing: Tobias Carrick x F!MC (Casey MacTavish)

Rating: Teen

Category: Fluff

Summary: Tobias and Casey make use of the conversation starters at a roadside cafe.

Warnings: None

Words: 966

A/N: My dear Tash sent five “nosey asks” for Tobias and Casey, I decided to make it into a short fic for them. Hopefully, it’s entertaining! The five questions she sent are highlighted in bold in the text.

CHARACTERS BELONG TO PIXELBERRY STUDIOS

“Oh, thank God we found this place,” Casey said, stretching her arms out over her head. “I’m famished.”

“We?” Tobias asked. “I believe I found it Sleeping Beauty. You’ve been sound asleep since we left the Berkshires.”

“Hmmm. That explains how we ended up lost and in the middle of nowhere,” she teased. “Didn’t you have on your GPS.”

“Yeah, but I thought I’d take the scenic route and didn’t realize that meant you’re bound to lose your signal.”

“Ah, it’s all good. This place is so quaint, and the sign says it has the best apple pie in Massachusetts. If that’s true, this is well worth the unexpected excursion.”

“That’s what I love about you. You always look at the bright side… and choose not to rip me a new one when I get us lost in the middle of nowhere,” he chuckled.

“Meh. You’re too cute for me to get mad at for long.”

“I’m going to send my Mom a thank you note for these genes then.”

After placing their order, Tobias noticed a square cube on the table.

“What’s this?”

“Oh, I’ve seen these before! Table Topics. It’s a box full of conversation starters. I guess it works well if you’re on a first date and you’re not sure what to talk about.”

“Could also end a first date real fast depending on the questions. Let’s try it.”

“OK,” Casey agreed enthusiastically as she pulled out the first card. “Do you have any tattoos? Now, see, on a first date, this could lead to some discoveries.”

“And some potentially risqué conversation,” he laughed. “But we both know we don’t have any at this stage of the game. Though, I’m still thinking about getting one with your name on it.”

“You know that’s the kiss of death, T. Why would you want to do that.”

“Hey, nothing is the kiss of death for us, babe. Pick another.”

“OK. HA! What are your biggest turn-ons?”

“I don’t know if we have that long, sweetheart.”

“We can just name a few. For me, it’s your dimple, your eyes, and that freaking smirk of yours… and you know it.”

“I do,” he smirked.

“You SEE! You know I find it irresistible.”

“I like to keep it in my arsenal,” he laughed.

“Another thing, when you talk dirty to me. My godddd, that drives me crazy.”

“I know that, too.”

“Hmmm, do you. You know, as irksome as it can sometimes be, that damn confidence of yours is also a turn-on. We have to stop this. I’m getting worked up.”

“It’s OK, Princess. It’s pretty deserted around here. I put the seats down pull over to the side of the road….”

“You may just have to. Now, what about you? Is there anything about me that turns you on.”

“Like I said, we don’t have that long. But, if I had to name a few whenever you call me by pet names… even just babe or hon. I waited so long to hear those words come out of your mouth that each time is like… wow.”

“Duly note, baby.”

He took her hand over the table.

“You,” he laughed. “Another thing is when you wear my clothes.”

“You like that?”

“Like? In case you haven’t noticed, they never stay on very long.”

“Nothing ever stays on very long, baby.”

“True… true…. My third is those little noises you make… letting me know how good you’re feeling.”

“Sometimes they’re big noises.”

“Yeah, we do get complaints.”

“Well worth the headaches.”

“Agreed,” he nodded, “But ask another question before we have to head to the backseat of the car now.”

“That’s a good idea,” she smiled. “Name someone you miss.”

“Easy. My Dad.”

Casey stroked his hand tenderly. “I wish I could have gotten to meet him.”

“Me too. He would have freaking loved you. But then you would have had to contend with him and my mother leading your fan club.”

“I think it would have been worth it.”

“What about you?”

“My grandparents. Especially my grandpa on my Mom’s side. I was always his little girl, you know.”

“Mmm. It’s easy to see why. Here let me pick one. What’s your relationship with your parents? Heh, well, my relationship with Vivian is special.”

“It so is! She adores you,” Casey assured.

“Yes, I know. But her way of showing it is being an overbearing pain in my ass.”

“Yes, but a fun and loving one.”

“There is that,” he agreed.

“You know mine… my Mom and Dad are great.”

“They sure are.”

“OK, one more because our food is going to be here, and I’m going to devour it!”

“You know if we can go back to turn-ons for a moment, you make those same sweet noises when you eat. So….”

“We’re really not getting back to Boston without a little stop, are we.”

“It’s not looking good… or it is looking good, depending.”

“Looking good,” she winked. “OK, last one. Name a random fact about anything.”

“You are the only woman I have ever loved.”

“Aww, T. I love you. But I already knew that.”

“Hey, it said a fact, not something that you didn’t know. And that is the first thing that came to my mind.”

“OK, well, I was absolutely crazy about you the moment I laid eyes on you.”

“I knew that too,” he laughed.

“Oh, you did, did you?”

“You forget, I heard your conversation with Aurora, Case. Six kids, huh?”

“For the record, I really don’t want six kids.”

“Well, I do.”

“Yeah, we’ll talk.”

“But not now,” he lifted his chin toward the approaching waitress. “Here comes our pie, and, by the looks of it, there is going to be a lot of groaning at this table momentarily.”

“Bring it!”

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OH Tags: @aishwarya26 @onikalover @peonyblossom @toadfrog26

Tobias Only Tags: @icecoffee90

@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

[queenxxxsupreme]

Baby Steps (dad!Arthur Morgan)

A/N: I know the techniques used in this story are wrong and should not be used I.E. using a male companion goat for a foal as they can be aggressive towards the foal, but this is purely fictional so just ignore it! Max is a part of the family and he is there for comedic relief! This is not for informational use! This is entertainment only! 

Warnings: None! just fluffy! 

This is a part 2 to Unlikely Choice which is here! But it’s also sort of a part of the dad!Arthur series I’ve unintentionally started....

***

The feeling of someone brushing their fingers over your hair woke you up. 

“Mornin’, pumpkin.” Arthur’s voice came from your left. He was laying on his side facing you, keeping himself occupied while you slept. 

He had been up for a while now. His struggles of sleeping had followed him from his life as an outlaw. He was lucky to get four hours some nights. 

“Mhmm.” You turned over to face him, keeping your eyes shut. You were still half asleep and you didn’t mind staying that way. 

“You goin’ back to sleep on me?” He chuckled softly, propping himself up on one elbow. 

“If you don’t mind, Mr. Morgan.”

“Well I do mind, Mrs. Morgan.” Arthur dipped his head down to kiss your forehead. “I’ve been up for a while now. Been thinkin’ about a lot. I don’t wanna think anymore. I need you to distract me.”

You sighed, opening your eyes to see him looking down at you. 

“A distraction, huh?”

“That would be appreciated.” There was a teasing glint in his blue eyes. 

“I’m sure it would.” You giggled. “What’s been goin’ through that head of yours?”

You reached up to brush his hair back. The blonde strands were getting a bit long and fell across his forehead. He’d need a haircut soon. 

“Little of this…. A lotta that.” He laid back on the bed, eyes finding the ceiling. 

You scooted as close to him as you could get and put your head on his shoulder. 

“Thinkin’ about how I’ve gotta fix the floorboards to the hayloft. They ain’t safe and I don’t want Daisy gettin’ hurt.”

“You can’t do that by yourself, can you?”

“Nah. I’ll need a couple extra hands.”

“I can help. Whatever I can’t help with, I’m sure Charles would be more than willing to come over and lend a hand.”

“Of course.” Arthur’s hand found the small of your back. “Also been thinkin’ bout a couple other odds and ends around here I gotta fix up.”

You looked up at him, sensing that there was something else, something he wasn’t saying. 

“Anything botherin’ you?” 

“Nothin’ you gotta worry about, pumpkin.” Arthur shook his head. 

“Well I’ll worry more if you don’t tell me.” 

Arthur was quiet for a few moments, lips pressed together in a firm line. 

You sat up and leaned back on one hand. You placed your hand over his heart, brows drawing together. He put his hand on yours, giving you a little squeeze. 

“I don’t want to have to worry so much about you both.” His voice was quiet. “This is our home. Don’t like feeling like we aren’t safe.”

“You’re still thinking about Micah, aren’t you?”

He sat up against the headboard. 

“Arthur, last we heard he was in Reno. We don’t gotta worry about him until we hear he’s closer.”

“I don’t want him any closer than Reno. Last we heard that was a few months ago.”

You looked down at the blanket that covered your legs. You smoothed out the material.

“Just…. Just want to be able to raise Daisy and any others we might have without him loomin’ over my head.” Arthur ran his hand over his face. 

“You want more?” You asked, your voice quiet as your eyes flickered up to meet his.

“Well…. I think it would be nice to try for one more, if you want. Only if you want.”

You moved around to straddle his thighs. 

“Daisy’s just…. She’s a dream, pumpkin.” Arthur placed his hands on your hips. “Still is. Sweet girl.”

“She’s definitely daddy’s girl.”

He smiled proudly. 

“Hey, maybe we could have a boy?” He suggested, blue eyes sparkling with excitement. “Even it out a little. One for you, one for me. I think it’d be nice.”

“Sure would be nice, but we don’t get to pick.”

“I know.” He nodded. His thumb on your hip began to trace circles in the material of your chemise. “Whatever we’d have, I’d love ‘em the same. Another girl would be cute too.”

“You’re adorable.” You leaned in to kiss his lips but just before you could kiss him, there was a knock on the door. 

“Mommy? Daddy?”

Arthur let out a soft sigh, moving his hands from your hips so that you could remove yourself from his lap. You settled on the bed next to him, leaning against his shoulder.

“Come on in, sweetpea.” 

The door opened and Daisy walked in. Carson slipped past her, jumping up onto the bed. Arthur gave him a pat on the shoulder. 

“Good boy, Carson.”

“Good morning, sleepy head.” You greeted Daisy with a smile. “It’s a little early for you to be up, hon.”

“I want to go out to the barn.” She climbed up onto the bed and clambered across your legs. 

“Oh, I reckon it’s far too early to go to the barn.” Arthur teased her. 

“Nuh-uh! You and Papa Hosea are always up early and outside in the barn!”

“What are you so eager to go out to the barn for anyways?” He brushed a few pieces of her hair back behind her ear.

“I wanna see my horse.” She admitted bashfully. 

Ohhh. I see.” Arthur nodded. “Well, why don’t you give me and momma here a few minutes to get out of bed and get dressed. Is Papa Hosea up?”

“Yeah he is. He’s out on the porch.”

“Go on out there with him. Have him take you to the barn while I get up.”

“Okay, daddy!”

Daisy was off of the bed and dashing out of the door in the blink of an eye. Carson was right behind her, eager to start the day. 

“Today is a busy day, Arthur Morgan.” You patted his thigh before getting out of bed. “John and Abigail should be here with the kids before noon. I was thinkin’ of invitin’ Charles and Lucy over too.”

“Of course.” Arthur nodded his head. He threw his legs over the side of the bed and rubbed his face. “Hey, pumpkin?”

“Yes, my love?” You turned to look at him. 

“You know I love you, don’t ya?”

A smile tugged at the corners of your lips. 

“I know. You gave me a baby girl and this beautiful house.” You moved around the bed to stand between his legs. “Love you too, you know.” Your arms slipped around his neck. His hands brushed along your thighs as he smiled up at you.

“Wouldn’t have her without you.” He leaned forward to kiss your stomach. 

“You’re feelin’ awfully sweet this morning.” You brushed your fingers through his hair. “Anything else on your mind, cowboy?”

“Just my girls.”

***

Arthur kept his hand on the small of your back as he walked you out to the barn. 

“Hey, you think we should get Hosea a mule when Silver Dollar finally croaks?” He teased as he pushed the barn door open with his shoulder. 

“Don’t you be talkin’ crass about my horse, Arthur Morgan.” Hosea spoke from where he sat in the barn. He was on a stool outside of the stall Daisy’s horse was in. Daisy was on her knees at the bottom of the stall reaching through the bottom of the fence so she could pet the foal. 

“I didn’t expect you to hear me, old man.” 

“Silver Dollar’s outlived a lotta things.” You looked over to Arthur, giving him a little smile. “Doubt he’s gonna go anytime soon.”

“When he does, I’m not gettin’ another horse.” Hosea shook his head. Almost as if happy about his owner’s statement, the Turkoman at the end stall whinnied and stuck his head over the stall door. 

“Then how the hell are you gonna get around?” Arthur moved to greet Silver Dollar. “Hey, boy.”

“I’ll figure it out when the time comes. But you know what I am gonna do? I’m gonna invest in sheep.”

“Sheep?” Arthur repeated. “Don’t we go enough of those?”

While they carried on their conversation, you moved towards Daisy. 

“Have you picked out a name yet, Daisy?”

“Haven’t thought of one.” She frowned, rubbing along the filly’s back. 

“Come on. Let’s go in and keep her company.” You opened up the stall and walked in. 

Daisy followed behind you, sitting down in the straw beside the filly. 

“Well, does she like anything? Any treats you give her?”

“She likes the carrot pieces we gave her last night.”

“Really liked them.” Arthur leaned over the stall, folding his arms along the top as he looked down at you both. “Carrot’s a cute name, ain’t it sweetpea?”

“It’s a silly name.”

“Yeah. But hey, it’d fit right in with what I call you and momma.” He chuckled. “Sweetpea, pumpkin, and Carrot.”

“You’re silly!”

“What names do you like, Daisy?” You asked her, reaching out to pull a piece of straw from her hair. 

“I don’t know.” 

“Well what name do you got in your head, silly?” Arthur reached down to ruffle her hair. 

Daisy giggled again, reaching up to grab his hand. 

“In that storybook momma read me the other night, there was a girl named Piper in it.” 

“Piper, huh? Piper is a neat name.” 

“I like that name.” You looked down at the filly and rubbed her nose. “I think she’s a pretty girl.” 

“You think she could be a Piper?” Daisy asked. 

“Oh, definitely. Don’t you think the same, daddy?” You looked up at Arthur. 

“Piper suits her well.” 

“Now only if we could get the damn thing to walk.” Hosea muttered from his seat. Arthur sent him a glare. 

“Why do you think she won’t walk, papa?” Daisy looked over to him, a frown etched on to her lips. 

You looked up at Arthur, who rubbed his eyes. 

“It’s hard to tell, honey.” Hosea rubbed his neck. “But she looks like a strong one. I’m sure she’ll be walking in no time.”

“Can we make her walk?” Daisy’s eyes found you. 

You opened your mouth to answer but found that you didn’t know the right thing to say. You looked up at Arthur. 

“Yeah, sweetpea. Let’s give it a try now. She ate well last night. Should have some energy in her.” Arthur pulled open the stall door. “You go stand out with papa, Daisy.” 

“Okay, daddy.” 

Daisy moved out of the stall and instead peered through the fencing. 

“You wanna give me a hand, pumpkin?” He held his hand out for you. 

“Of course. Just tell me what you need me to do.” 

Arthur pulled you to your feet and brushed off your skirt. 

“You know how we had that calf a few winters ago that wouldn’t listen to me but loved you? Try to encourage her to get up.”

“You think she’ll listen to me?”

“It’s worth a try.” 

“Has she stood up at all?” 

“No.”

“Thought you would’ve learned by now not to trust greasy conmen, Arthur.” 

“Shut up, Hosea.” Arthur muttered. 

You took a piece of apple from the bowl Arthur brought into the barn and knelt down in front of Piper. You put the apple piece in front of her nose, letting her get a little nibble of the treat before pulling it away. 

She tried to follow you by stretching her neck but that only got her so far. 

“Come on, girl.” Arthur encouraged, giving her flank a little pat. “Gotta get up.” 

She lifted herself up on to her front hooves as if she wanted to stand but that was where she stopped. 

“Good girl.” You rubbed her head and let her nibble on the apple a little more. “Sweet Piper. Just a little more, sweetie.” 

“Come on, Piper!” Daisy anxiously spoke from outside of the stall. 

Piper looked like she was ready to stand up, but at the last second she seemed to give up and her front legs buckled. She fell back to the ground, whinnying and flicking her ears. 

You stood up, putting your hands on your hips. Arthur watched you from where he was knelt down behind Piper. 

“Whatcha thinkin’ bout, pumpkin?”

“Max.” 

“Oh no.” Arthur stood up, shaking his head. “That goat is not teachin’ this horse any bad habits.”

“He won’t teach her nothin’ but maybe to walk.” 

***

Max was a Saanen goat that you kept on the farm with a handful of other goats. 

Max was a handful to deal with. He was mischievous and liked to stir up trouble wherever he could. His favorite activity to do was harass your husband. Max was sweet and nice to you and Daisy. He just didn’t like many people. 

Max followed you to the barn, bleating loudly for attention. 

“I don’t think this is a good idea.” Arthur muttered, blue eyes carefully watching Max as he trotted through the barn. 

“Just trust me.” You put your hand on his arm as you opened the door to Piper’s stall. 

Curious, Max followed you into the stall. Once he saw Arthur was in there, he bleated and scratched his front hoof against the floor. 

But then Piper let out a high pitched whinny, catching Max’s attention. The goat’s ears perked up and he redirected himself towards the foal. He bleated, sniffing curiously at Piper’s leg, and then he bounced around and dug his head at her flank. 

“What’s he doing?” Daisy asked. 

“I think he’s trying to get her to play with him.” Hosea rubbed Daisy’s shoulder. 

Piper placed her front hooves on the ground and whinnied once more. Max bleated. 

With bated breath, you watched as Piper stood up on shaky long legs. Daisy almost clapped her hands but Hosea stopped her, not wanting to spook the animals. 

Max sniffed Piper and then took off out of the stall. 

Piper watched him leave, ears perked up as she listened. 

“Well. That could’ve gone worse.” Arthur said. 

“She’s standing up!” Daisy exclaimed. 

Piper moved around a little, her knees shaking as she explored her stall. 

“When can I start to work with her? Like you did with Poncho?” Daisy’s question was directed to Arthur. 

“Baby steps, sweetpea. We can’t work her too hard.”

But daddy-!”

“Daisy.” You cut her off, keeping your voice gentle. “Don’t raise your voice at him.”

She frowned, looking down at her hands. 

“Maybe in a week or two, sweetpea. Gotta make sure Piper’s good on her feet.” Arthur patted the foal’s flank. 

The filly whinnied, then dipped her nose into the bucket of water in the corner of her stall. 

“I’m gonna go start breakfast.”  You told Arthur. 

“I reckon I’ll go down and see if Charles is up. See if he ain’t too busy and wants to give me a hand with the hayloft.”

“Okay. Be safe.” You leaned in to kiss him. He kissed you gently and chastly, placing his hand on your side. 

“I’ll let you know before I leave.” 

You nodded and turned to exit the barn. 

Arthur watched you leave, then his eyes flickered down to Daisy. 

“Daddy? You think I can take her out to the pasture? Maybe she wants to get some sun.” 

“Yeah, sweetpea. You can go out there with her. S’long as you’re careful and don’t get behind her when she’s standin’.” 

“I’ll go out and watch her.” Hosea offered, moving away from the stall. “Let you get some work done. Make yourself useful.”

“So you get to sit on your ass while I do all the hard work?” 

“Precisely.” Hosea chucked. 

Arthur shook his head, a grin pulling at his lips.

Taglists:  @doggone-cowgirl @winterwolf @lauramb7 @caraqas @bluscryn @krenee1drful @zodiacaldust @nonodino @gabstaroc @cal-lifornication @thefirelordm @sargeantsea @sokkasdarling @thecollection @mayday1284 @kashasenpai @misskrql

If your name is in italics, it wouldn’t let me tag you :(

[luminnara]

The Dismemberment Song | BOP Victor Zsasz x Reader | 18+

Fandom: Birds of Prey

Words: 3,791

Summary: Zsasz takes a liking to one of the burlesque dancers at Roman’s club.

PART ONE | PART TWO |

WARNINGS: graphic blood/gore/violence, reader may or may not torture and murder a guy, alcohol, all that good Gotham stuff, reader is kinda fucked up

Seriously, don’t read this if you don’t like blood

Based on The Dismemberment Song by Blue Kid! 

This is written as a kinda vague fem!reader, but if there’s interest I can always write alternate versions for different genders, more specific body/personality types, or whatever else might tickle your fancy! Just hit up my ask box!

Requests are open!! Pls, I really wanna write more Zsasz or Zsaszmask x reader, gimme ideas!

The Black Mask was a club that boasted only the best of the best. Top shelf booze, luxurious furnishings, and entertainers that Gotham’s other club owners wished they could get their hands on all came together to form the East End’s trendiest spot. You were lucky enough to be one of those very entertainers, and you had been performing onstage at Roman’s club ever since one of his goons saw you dancing at another spot across town. Roman Sionis had bought you easily, promising a good nightly wage and all the free drinks you could stomach, and a few years later, you were still enjoying the nice gig at the Black Mask. 

Most nights were the same; you showed up around seven, hung around in the dressing room with the others while you all got ready, and enjoyed a drink or two before your first number. You were always in the chorus, not that you really minded--Roman paid you more than enough to keep you happy, even though you knew the stars got more. Girls who did solo numbers, especially if they could sing, those were Mr. Sionis’s favorites. You never really expected to achieve that kind of status, not when people like Dinah Lance were around and holding his attention, so when Roman pulled you aside one night to tell you that he wanted to give you the chance to do your own routine, you nearly dropped your drink. 

“Full creative control,” he said, a hand resting at the small of your back as you gaped at him. 

“I--what?” you managed to choke out. “I-I mean, thank you, Mr. Sionis, really--”

“Please,” he chuckled. “Call me Roman.”

“Thank you, Roman,” you smiled, swallowing down your fear. “I won’t disappoint you, I swear.” 

“I know you won’t, doll.” he motioned for someone to bring him a drink. “Full creative control, like I said. I want to see what’s swirling around in that pretty mind of yours. Put some heart into it for me, k doll?”

You nodded. “You got it, boss.”

He grinned, hugging you to his side and pressing a kiss against your temple like he did with all the girls he liked. “Looking forward to it, beautiful.”

He let you go, turning to leave, and Zsasz slunk after him, but not before casting you an almost annoyed look. 

“Don’t disappoint,” he teased, whistling low before he followed his boss. 

You gulped. You were sure he wouldn’t mind peeling your face off, but you rather preferred staying alive.

“I won’t!” you called after him bravely. 

He glanced at you over his shoulder, his eyes practically boring into you as if were sizing you up. He thought you were just some prissy little girl, didn’t he? Just like Roman, just like everybody else. But you would show them. They wanted to see what kind of shit really ate at your brain? Oh, you’d give them a nice little glimpse.

And so, only a couple shorts weeks later, here you were, getting ready in the dressing room like usual, only you were far more nervous than you had been for any other shift. You had busted your ass getting everything ready, even taking a few nights off to work twice as hard on what you hoped would be a good debut. You had given the band their sheet music, you had learned your lyrics inside and out (because you were absolutely determined to go that extra mile for Roman Sionis and show him that not only could you prance around onstage, but you could sing, too), and you had spent hours upon hours hand-decorating an old corset and lingerie set you had sitting around. Roman wanted this to come from the heart, he wanted a passion project, and you were gonna give it to him. 

You just had to pray that he was in the right mood to enjoy it.

“Think you’re good to go, my love,” the house mom said as she finished with your hair. 

You stared at yourself in the mirror. So far, so good...your hair was in big barrel curls, still warm to the touch as your house mom gave it a couple more passes with the hairspray for good measure. 

“You sure I don’t need--”

“You’re gonna knock ‘em dead,” she interrupted, retreating to her usual chair. 

You kept staring at your reflection. “Do you think it’s too much? I mean...”

She laughed loudly. “Hon, this is Gotham. There’s no such thing as too much.”

Glancing down at your outfit, you weren’t so sure. “But...”

“But nothing. Now go on, go show Roman why he stays in business.”

You stood on shaky legs, nodding to her as you made your way towards the door. “R-right.”

“Break a leg,” she called after you. 

All you could do was nod. You knew what you were doing. You had practiced for hours every day to get ready for this. With a deep breath, you made your way down the hall leading to stage, shaking your hands out as you stood in the wings. You could do this. You were ready.

As soon as your stage name was announced, you stepped out, ruby encrusted heels clicking against the wooden floorboards. The lights were harsh, the crowd quiet as you came out to face them. The stage was set for you, a few props already waiting for you as you stood there, ready for the music to start.

Then, the band began playing, and you sprang into action.

“Hold still, my sweet. I’m tryin to measure the space between your molar and your jaw...” You sang, lunging forward to grab the medical-grade calipers sitting in a metal bucket for you. You trailed them down over your victim’s jaw, smiling as you did so. “...This caliper, no cause for fear. No it...it doesn’t hurt, it only helps me measure how much skin you have...”

Across the club, Zsasz looked up. He was standing near Roman, his boss sitting in a booth while he chatted with some business associates. He was far more interested in you than their conversation, his dark eyes tracking you as you moved across the stage. He was absolutely enthralled by your outfit, your tightly-laced corset covered in blood red rhinestones that glimmered under the stage lights, your matching bra and thong shining just as brightly. You looked like you were covered in blood, the gems catching his eye in a way he hadn’t expected. 

“--and the topmost layer of fat, but I won’t make an incision till you’re nice and numb...” There was an operating table on the stage, where one of Roman’s lowest-ranking goons was tied down. If Zsasz remembered correctly, this guy had fucked up pretty monumentally recently, so seeing him strapped down and struggling brought a grin to his face.

You ran over to the man, the crowd laughing as you leaned across him. “...Oh, and laughing gas can be so much fun, please don’t doubt my decision...”

The scene you had set was both comedic and sexual. In all honesty, Zsasz hadn’t expected you to do anything like this; you were a chorus girl, someone he had thought would go for something overdone and classic. Maybe some old school stupid, annoying, Singin In The Rain type shit, yet there you were, dressed in an outfit that was obviously meant to emulate dripping blood while you flitted around a man on a gurney. 

Zsasz couldn’t look away. 

“This’ll be ooh, this’ll be ahh, this’ll be absolutely whee!” you squealed, teasingly pressing your sawblade to the goon’s torso. “This’ll be nice, this’ll be neat and bring you closer to me...”

You grabbed the goon as he struggled against his restraints, holding him down. Zsasz was sure the man was in on your little number, and he thought it was cute; you were pretending to be some sort of killer, maybe trying to appeal to Roman’s face peely urges. Maybe you were trying to make the boss happy by scaring his lackey like this.

“So don’t you squirm, don't you fret, I'm not gonna hurt you...yet.” You grinned, leaning down before you shoved the man’s face to the side, letting him go as you ran back across the stage. “I just feel the need to be gettin’ a little of you, a lot of blood lettin’, I know the sensation you’re probably dreading...”

You pranced back to the gurney, moving with that little extra theatrical oomph that made everyone think you were just playing. You smiled as they clapped and laughed loudly. They would figure it out soon enough. 

“Cutting you up will be so refreshing for me...” you cooed, discarding the calipers in favor of a scalpel. You traced it down the goon’s bare chest, a little line of blood following the blade as it pierced his flesh. 

He let out a scream, just as you hoped he would, and you gave his little table a shove, sending it wheeling a short distance away. 

“Now don’t you cry,” You sang, “And don’t call Miriam, she’s my alibi...oh let me check your toes out!” You picked up a set of pliers, taking hold of his big toe. “Aren’t your toenails cute?” you grabbed one and pulled, the goon screaming as you removed the nail, leaving a bloody pulp behind. “...and red is such a lovely color on you!” you leaned down in his face, grabbing the opposite foot’s big toenail and yanking. “...But you won’t be needing those!”

Roman began clapping, giving a loud “Whoo!”  as he watched you. He had no idea that when you had asked him for the name of his least favorite henchman, this would be the reason. Now, watching the man suffer onstage in front of everyone while you were dancing around him in six inch heels and a scandalously skimpy outfit, Sionis was more than entertained. He was impressed, absolutely astounding by the cruelty his little burlesque dancer held inside of her. He couldn’t have hoped for more. 

“When you’ve got no knees!” you sang, dropping your weapons in favorite of a crowbar. “...Or shins, or pinky fingers, or arteries....”

You brought your weapon down on each of the man’s legs, somehow still managing to poise yourself perfectly as you did so. You gave him a few good whacks, then dropped the bar, leaning down to pick a knife up out of the bucket and run it over his hands teasingly. 

“...so hold still while I remove them!” you trilled. 

The man tried to sit up, struggling against his restraints, but you shoved him back down with a sweet smile. 

“...Oh, and don’t fight back,” you sang, hopping up to sit next to him. “I think you’ll find you’re missing the point, with that.”

Meanwhile, Victor Zsasz was grinning, showing off his gold teeth while he watched you. He kept a close eye on your hips as they swayed, his trained eyes following your ass as it moved across the stage. Were you really carving a man up right then and there? He wanted it to be true. He wanted to smell the overwhelming tang of blood as you plunged a knife into your victim. But he was too far away, and so he had to settle for watching instead. 

Your victim tried to scream, and you shoved his head to the side playfully. 

“That’s enough outta you!” you sang, holding his jaw tightly.

As you repeated your chorus, your knife returned to the man’s flesh and he grunted in pain, pleading to an audience that didn’t care about him. The Black Mask was a fucked up place for fucked up people, no matter how trendy it was, and nobody in the audience was going to protest when someone was torn apart onstage. Besides, Roman Sionis was far too powerful for the GCPD to go after, and as you heard him laughing loudly in the audience, you had a pretty good feeling that he wasn’t going to send anyone after you for carving somebody up in a way that only you could.

You kept going, peeling your underbust corset off with the same grace and dexterity that Zsasz peeled faces with. As you stood in only your bra, thong, garters and stockings, you felt exhilarated, powerful, as if you had been born to cur people up in front of an audience. 

It’s not like this was your first time chopping a body up, anyways; there was a reason you had to move to Gotham and get a new gig, after all.

Zsasz watched you. In fact, his eyes were glued to you, even when Roman walked away to chat with a few mob bosses in a nearby booth. Were you seriously killing this man right in front of everyone? Victor didn’t necessarily care for all the theatrics, but he could appreciate how seriously you took you took your craft, and he had to admit, he was surprised that this was what you had come up with when Roman told you to give him something good.

“‘Cause I’m all out of hurt, you’ve used up all I’ve got,” you taunted, sneering down at your victim as you brought your saw down on his leg. “So I’m chopping you up and still coming up squat! If I want it to bleed, I’ll just roll up my sleeve and saw and saw and saw...”

The blade cut back and forth, and Zsasz’s eyes followed it. Blood was spurting up, drenching your arms as if you were wearing red opera gloves. 

“And saw, and saw, and saw, and saw....”

“Zsasz, can you believe this?” Roman asked, leaning towards him.

“No, boss,” Zsasz said with a little grin, shaking his head. 

“She’s good. We may have to give her a new job...”

You paused, giving your victim a break as you tossed the saw back into the bucket, drops of blood spattering across the stage as you pulled out a large butcher knife. Before it could touch Roman’s henchman, you used it to flick open the clasp on your bra, tossing the thin little piece of lingerie out into the crowd. You didn’t really care where it went; you were too busy enjoying yourself. 

“This’ll be ooh, this’ll be ahh, this’ll be absolutely whee,” you purred, trailing the blade down the side of the man’s face. “This’ll be nice, this’ll be neat and bring you closer to me...”

“So don’t you squirm, don’t you fret, I’m not gonna hurt you, oh no, no, no, not...yet.” you plunged your blade into his chest, between two of his ribs, not close enough to knick his heart but definitely deep enough to cause him immense pain despite all the adrenaline that was sure to be running through his system now.

You pulled the knife back out, blood dripping off the metal blade as you held it tightly and pranced back across the stage. “I just feel the need to be gettin’ a little of you, a lot of bloodletting, I know the sensation you’re probably dreading but there’s one thing you’re forgetting...”

Turning back to him, you brought the blade to his throat, and in the crowd, Zsasz’s eyes lit up. He was delighted. He was enthralled. His pants were getting a little tight, but whatever. The rest of the audience was gazing up at you with wonder, disgust, amusement...but Zsasz was absolutely admiring the way you so confidently played with your victim. The theatrics were starting to grow on him, he decided, and he wanted nothing more than to go right up there and lick all that blood off your face.

“There’s nothing like the thrill of a shredding,” you sang, almost snarling, “but this is no orthodox beheading...”

You destroyed the man on the gurney, carving through him, drenching yourself in blood in an almost comical way. 

“Cutting you up,” you sang as you made an absolute mess. “Cutting you up...”

“Cutting you up is gonna be....” you finally stepped back, catching your breath as the song slowed. “...so refreshing for me.”

As your routine finished, you took a little bow, still holding the knife as you crossed your ankles and bent at the waist in a delightfully fancy gesture. The man on the gurney was very much dead, blood dripping down onto the stage, and the audience was still eating up every second of it. You could hear Roman cheering, and as you spotted him standing there amidst the crowd with Zsasz at his side, you blew them both a little kiss. 

“How about that?” you heard Roman’s voice boom above the clapping as you strode offstage. “I would call for an encore, but unfortunately, I think we’d need a new victim....”

Your head was still abuzz with the rush of killing, and you walked back to the dressing room in a daze. You were vaguely aware of Dinah Lance wrinkling her nose as you passed her, but you didn’t pay her any mind. Absolutely nothing could kill your good mood now. 

“Well?” the house mom asked as you made your way to your mirror. “Sounds like it went well, judging by those cheers...”

You smiled and hummed to yourself, nodding as you reached for something to clean your face with. You were going to need an entire shower to get all this blood off yourself. 

“Told you.” the house mom snorted a laugh. 

“He loved it,” you grinned. 

She shook her head in amusement. “You are one fucked up girl, I’ll tell you that much.”

“That’s showbiz, baby,” you joked, raising a towel to start working at wiping your face. 

“Oh, pussycat?” a singsong voice made you freeze. 

You could see Zsasz in the mirror. 

He was leaning in the doorway, smirking as he watched you. “Boss wants to talk.”

You paled. Had you fucked up after all? Did Roman get his shits and giggles and now planned on having Zsasz peel your face off? Sionis was infamous for his fickle moods. You’d watched him have plenty of people dragged off into back rooms just for speaking at the wrong time, and you had just done way worse than interrupt him. 

 You gawked at Zsasz, still staring at his reflection. What were you supposed to do? Run? He was blocking the only door, and there was no way you’d be able to get past him. You had no choice but to follow him to Roman. 

“O-Okay,” you managed to stammer out, finally turning towards him. “Lead the way.”

“Might want this.” he held up the bra you had tossed, twirling the strap around his finger while he gave you a smile that showed off his gold teeth.

“Give me that!” you snapped, rushing towards him.

“Ah.” he held it above his head, leering down at you. “Think I like this view more...”

“Zsasz!” you protested, scrambling against his chest and practically trying to claw your way up him to get your lingerie. 

He froze. He finally smelled the metallic tang of all that blood covering you, and coupled with the feeling of your tits against his chest...oh, he was so fucked. 

When he dropped the bra, you grabbed it from him, tossing it back to your mirror and moving to pick up a silky red robe off a nearby hook. You shrugged it on, tying it shut while Zsasz cleared his throat and offered you his arm. 

“Such a gentleman,” you sneered, taking it anyways. 

“When I want to be.” his voice was low and rough, as if his vocal chords were scraping against each other with every syllable. 

You looked up at him, a bit dumbfounded, as he led you out into the club once more. The band was playing as a few people cleaned up the carnage you had left behind, the bar’s patrons all chatting and drinking again. It was as if nothing had even happened and they hadn’t just watched a man be torn apart onstage a few minutes prior. 

Zsasz took you to Roman, the crowd parting before the two of you easily. Sionis was sitting in his favorite booth, sipping his drink and laughing, still seeming to be in a very good mood.

“Ah, there she is!” He said when he saw you, standing up and spreading his arms.

“You wanted to see me, sir?” You asked nervously as Zsasz let you go.

“Yes, yes, I had Mr. Zsasz grab you so that I could congratulate you on a thrilling performance.”

You stared at him. “You liked it?”

“Liked it? I loved it, darling! A bit messy for my tastes, but a lovely show, truly, though I suspect our dear Mr. Zsasz here wishes he could have been the one to take care of your victim. Isn’t that right, Zsasz?”

You glanced up at Zsasz. He grunted, not necessarily in agreement. He didn’t hate watching your performance by any means, and as much as he enjoyed helping little birds fly away from the world, he rather enjoyed watching you do it, too. 

“I’m glad, Mr. Sionis,” you said. 

“I told you, call me Roman.” he took a sip of his drink. “You know, normally, I don’t enjoy it when someone kills the people that belong to me, but I must admit, you certainly have a way with a knife.”

“I would have asked your permission, but I didn’t want to ruin the surprise.” you gulped. 

“And what a lovely surprise it was!” Roman laughed loudly. “You’re very talented...in fact, how’d you like a promotion? Yes? Perfect, perfect! No, no, don’t shake my hand, you’re...well, you’re covered in blood. Quite frankly, it’s disgusting.” He snapped his fingers. “Mr. Zsasz, take her up to the penthouse so she can clean up, I don’t want all this blood getting on the new carpeting in here.”

“Oh, Mr. Sio--Roman,” you cleared your throat, “I can use the shower in the dressing room, really, it’s no trouble--”

“Nonsense, nonsense.” he waved you away. “You’re part of the team now, aren’t you? Besides, a job well done deserves some sort of reward. Zsasz will show you upstairs. Don’t worry, he’s completely harmless.”

As Zsasz put a hand on your lower back, you had your doubts. Harmless wasn’t really a word you would choose to describe Roman’s right hand man. 

“Come on, princess.” Zsasz purred, guiding you through the crowd before you had much of a chance to protest. 

He took you to the elevator in the corner, the bouncer standing guard in front of it stepping aside with a nod. The man hit the up button, and soon, you were pressed up against Zsasz in the small space, on your way up to Roman’s spacious penthouse. 

[mrs-gucci]

A Beach Day to Remember {Clyde Logan x Reader}

author’s notes: made it just under the wire for this week’s writer wednesday :) it’s a bit different from my usual writing MO, but I honestly had a blast with it and I’m decently pleased with how it turned out, actually. I wrote this late at night while I was half-asleep lol so sorry if it’s a little all over the place! thanks, as always, to @autumnleaves1991-blog for hosting & @clydesducktape​ for helping out! it’s such a great and fun weekly tradition!

warnings: fluff. humor. romance. beach fun. chair wrestling. a quick lil makeout session (nothing explicit). 

no tw’s :)

word count: 2.2k

clyde’s taglist peeps! @goddessofsprings​ my general taglist peeps!  @frank-and-honey @shygirl268 @icarusinthesea​  @gildedstarlight​ @mrs-zimmerman @soldmysoulagain @roseepossee @pascalisfairyy​ @I-can’t-draw-faces @ahsoka1 @safarigirlsp​ @babbushka

By some miracle, you’d convinced born-and-raised country boy Clyde Logan to accompany you to Miami Beach for a week. A whole week, you couldn’t believe it. 

And...he actually bought a pair of swim trunks. Sure, they were a West Virginia Walmart buy, but hey, he bought a pair; you’ll take what you can get.

Who was this man and what has he done with Clyde Logan?

He’s never really been to the beach before, Mamma Logan didn’t like bein’ in the sun too long and Pappa wasn’t about to cross her, so this was his first time. 

Your family used to vacation here every year, so you were relatively familiar with the notoriously rowdy town. The first evening and night consisted of you showing a wide-eyed Clyde around Miami’s bustling night life. But, when the sun came up the next morning, he was revving to get down to the beach.

You had to talk him down a bit there at first, convincing him to eat somethin’ for breakfast before spending a whole entire day in the sun ‘cause if he passes out, he’s on his own getting back to the condo.

“I’m gon’ go get changed fer the beach!” He says excitedly, clapping his hands together and doing a little jog over to the dresser the second you two get back from your sidewalk cafe breakfast.

You smile at his enthusiasm, trying to remember the last time you saw him so openly excited and smiley. After only a few moments of thought, you realize that you’ve never seen him quite like this before. But, you’re certainly taking a liking to vacation Clyde.

Both Mellie and Jimmy requested plenty of photos of, and this is a direct quote, “Clyde’s long, pasty-ass legs in swim shorts”, and you’re nothing if not accommodating...

As soon as he steps out of the bathroom, you quickly say “Smile!” and snap a picture of him in his leaf-pattern hunter green trunks. He frowns, striding over to where you’re standing.

“Hey now pumpkin, who’re ya sendin’ that off to?”

You giggle, typing out his sibling’s contacts into your messages. “Nobody...”

His eyes widen when he sees Jimmy and Mellie’s names. He tries to grab the phone away from you, but as he takes it, his palm accidentally nudges the little ‘send’ icon. 

“G’damnit! I fuckin’ sent it to ‘em!”

You’re cracking up as he frantically tries to somehow un-send the message, despite you trying to repeatedly convince him that there’s literally nothing that can be done at this point; the message is permanent.

Almost immediately, the replies begin to pile in and Clyde quickly puts a hand over his face as your phone chimes continuously.

Ding! Ding! Ding!

“‘m never gonna hear the end ‘a this when we get back home.” He groans. “Now they got that picture forever and they’re never gonna stop showin’ it...Oh ma god, they’re gonna put it in our weddin’ slideshow, a-and our future kids ‘re gonna see it, and it’s gonna be shown at ma funeral...”

You laugh, shaking your head as you put your hands on his bare, freckle-painted chest. “Hon, I really wouldn’t worry that much about it. It’ll all blow over in a little bit, I promise. Plus, I now have evidence that you actually came to the beach with me. I have a feeling our future kids won’t believe me when I tell them this story someday.”

Clyde starts laughing, running his hands down the curve of your body before landing on your hips. He pulls you in for a kiss, moving his lips gently against yours.

Your face scrunches when he starts licking into your mouth and the bitter taste of zinc overwhelms your taste buds.

“Mmmm, mmm, Clyde?”

He pulls away, brows furrowed.

“Did you put some zinc on your lips?”

His cheeks turn pink and he looks away bashfully. “Oh, yeah, I did. ‘m sorry, I forgot ‘bout that.”

“It’s alright, no need to apologize.” You chuckle, shaking your head. “I love you.”

He smiles, placing a kiss on your forehead this time, rather than your lips.

“Love ya too, pumpkin.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Clyde’s like a kid at a candy store when he gets down to the beach, quickly putting the cooler down on the sand and dropping his chair down next to it. The sunglasses sit just above the bridge of his zinc-whitened nose as his head moves around to drink in the sights unfolding before him.

You giggle to yourself as you watch him, setting your beach bag down with the cooler before beginning to set up your chair. But your man quickly jumps in and insists on unfolding the chair for you even though, as you’ll soon find out, he has zero idea how to operate a folding beach chair. To be fair, it was one of those older-fashioned ones that had sustained quite a bit of rust.

“Now, how in the world...?” He grumbles, trying to unfold the stubborn thing. He tries just about every method he could think up, at one point he was trying to use his flip-flop equipped foot to aid in the unfolding process, but he still cannot get the damn chair open.

Eventually, a curious (and very entertained) bystander comes over and helps the two of you out with your chairs, and both of you thank them profusely before finally beginning your day at the beach. Clyde remains standing, continuing to look around at all the things happening on the beach while you lay back and open your book to begin reading.

After a bit of sunning time, you and Clyde head down to the water. You keep your feet in the cool water while he stands further in, little waves crashing mid-calf. He finds a nice shell and runs up to put it back at your little setup while you stay and watch as the natural push and pull of the ocean slowly buries your feet in the sand.

Suddenly, a flesh arm comes on your back and a metallic arm scoops behind your knees, lifting you up as you squeal. 

“Clydeeee!”

He laughs, rushing into the water while holding you bridal-style, water splashing up all over both you and him with each of his massive strides. As soon as he knows he’s deep enough, he starts swinging you back and forth.

“One...Two...”

You’re in a fit of laughter, playfully hitting his chest. “Noooooo! Stooopppp!”

“Three!” Clyde tosses you into the blue-green water of the Atlantic as you screech, a big splash accompanying your collision with the surface.

You emerge a moment later, quickly rushing up and jumping into his arms, causing him to fall backwards into the water. He laughs when he resurfaces and splashes you in the face teasingly, to which you respond by doing the exact same thing.

“No more splashin’!” He says, chuckling to himself at the irony of his exclamation.

You laugh, splashing him one more time. “You’re the one that started it, you goof!”

“Now, let’s not play the blame game, pumpkin.” He smiles jokingly, then wraps his arms around your torso, head nuzzling into the crook of your neck.

Both of you spend a bit more time in the water before heading back up to your chairs to dry off in the sun and re-apply sunscreen. Clyde ends up falling asleep, a few shells he found in the water spread out on the top of his thighs as he snoozes.

Only about fifteen minutes later, you look over and put a hand over your mouth to cover the giggles that come when you see that one of the shells has sprouted some legs in preparation for an escape attempt. The creature begins crawling and he starts squirming a bit at the ticklish sensation, clearly beginning to re-awaken from his early afternoon slumber. 

When his eyes blink open and he looks down, he gasps, launching backwards in his chair. Unfortunately, the old-school beach chair already struggles to hold his massive form, so when he jumps back, the chair gives out and breaks clean in half, sending Clyde back into the sand. 

The poor crab is thrust into the sand, but it’s alright, quickly crawling back towards the ocean. You immediately stand up, trying not to laugh too hard until you know he’s completely alright. 

“Oh my fuck...Clyde! Are you okay, hon?”

He nods, chuckling softly. “’m alright, though I can’t say the same for this here chair, though.”

You giggle, helping him sit back up in the sand. When he’s fully sat up, he’s still smiling and laughing, shaking his head.

“Well, I suppose I owe the condo owners a new beach chair.”

--

A full, active day at the beach has you pretty fucking exhausted when you two finally head back up to the condo around four in the afternoon. You take a quick cat nap while Clyde showers, then you hop in and wash off the day’s sunscreen and sand.

While you’re in the shower, Clyde rifles through his duffle and pulls out a little velvet box, popping it open to expose the glittering diamond ring that sits on a little pillow. He smiles at the sight, knowing that tonight’s the night he’s finally gonna ask you to be his forever.

He’s been waiting for the right moment for a short while now, and after the fun y’all had at the beach today and the sunset beach walk he’s planning to take you on before your fancy dinner reservations later this evening...he can’t think of a more perfect time to do it.

You step out of the bathroom and Clyde scrambles to quickly tuck the ring box into his khaki pants pocket. He smooths his hands over the fabric before standing up, face breaking out into a wide smile when he sees the beautiful sundress you’ve got on.

“You’re so beautiful, pumpkin.” He says, smiling as he walks up to you, hands on your hips. “Always so, so beautiful.”

Your expression stretches into a bright, genuine smile as you get up on your tiptoes for a kiss. “Thank you, Clyde. You look awfully handsome yourself this evening.”

“Oh, well, thank ya, darlin’.” His cheeks grow red as he looks down for a moment, shoving his hands down in his pockets. “So, do ya wanna go on a sunset walk ‘fore our reservations?”

You agree, and the two of you head back down to the beach. His fingers fiddle with the little box in his pocket as you walk along the beach. Soon, you reach an old lifeguards stand, painted in brilliant mint green and flamingo pink colors. The ‘No Lifeguard on Duty’ paint is still visible, even after some seeming wear and tear to the outside of the building. 

The sun’s touching down on the horizon line as he guides you up onto the old structure’s small front deck, and you lean over the railing together as the sun sinks down. 

Your head turns to look over at your beloved boyfriend, admiring the way the sherbet sky reflects off of and compliments his alabaster skin. God he’s beautiful, you think to yourself for what has to be the millionth time in your three years of dating Clyde. He’ll forever be the most beautiful man in your eyes.

He turns to you then, standing up with a shaky hand reaching out to take yours. “Uh, Y/N, there’s somethin’...somethin’ I wanna do ‘fore we head off to dinner.”

You nod, eyebrows furrowing.

“Sure, hon. Are you alright, though? You’re shaking a bit.”

“’m alright, pumpkin.”

Clyde nods and then, he sinks down onto one knee, wobbling a bit as he adjusts to the new position. He steadies shortly after and then, he pulls the box out of his pocket and opens it up, exposing the ring he spent hours picking out for you.

You’re in shock, hands over your mouth as he smiles up at you, tears already forming in his eyes.

“Y/N, I-I knew when I first met ya that you were gon’ be the woman I wanted to s...spend the rest of ma life with. Y-Yer so funny ‘n kind ‘n so, so beautiful; yer just...yer perfect, p-pumpkin.”

You feel the tears beginning to spill out of the corners of your eyes as he continues, tears now running down his cheeks as well.

“I love y-ya more than life itself, Y/N, an’ I...I wanna spend the rest of ma livin’ days on this planet by yer side. Will ya...will ya marry me?”

Time seems to stand still for Clyde, then, his nerves overwhelming and overtaking his entire being. The seconds between his final word and your response are some of the longest and most anxious seconds of his life, but damnit, they were well worth it.

“Yes, Clyde, yes. O-Of course I’ll marry you.” You say, smiling as he stands to pull you in for a passionate kiss.

He’s overjoyed, really, heart racing but in the best possible way. You said yes. You’re gonna be his wife, his Mrs. Logan.

“God, I love ya.” Clyde whispers against your lips, pulling the ring from its place on the delicate pillow. “I love ya so, so much, Y/N.”

“I love you t-too, Clyde.” You smile, holding your left hand out for him to slip the ring onto your finger. It’s a perfect fit, and you immediately pull him in for a hug. “I can’t wait to marry you, hon, can’t wait to become Mrs. Logan.”

He grins widely, pressing another few kisses onto your lips.

“Mrs. Y/N Logan, ma beautiful wife, ma forever partner.”

You nod, sniffling softly.

“Your forever partner.”

[peter-parkers-whore]

Steve Rogers <33

Steve Rogers x Reader. Fluffy with smutty. Steve being super cute and consensual. If you haven’t listened to Cloud 9 by Beach Bunny listen to it first. 

Warnings: Vanilla, Praise Kink. That’s really it, but if you see something I missed, sorry. 

Summary: Steve has a rough day and goes to the bar to get a drink. Y/N work at the bar as a singer. Steve and Y/n make a strange connection through a song which build into a strong relationship. 

After another fight with Sharon, which ended in a break up, Steve decided he needed a night out. After all it had been a few weeks. He needed to get over her. He got himself ready and drove to the bar. 

When he got to the bar he sat down and started drinking a water, cus he’s so pure. Y/N, meanwhile, was working. Singing songs to entertain drunks. But this particular song that she was singing happened to be one of her favorites. She was singing Cloud 9. 

“But when he loves me, I feel like I'm floating When he calls me pretty, I feel like somebody Even when we fade eventually, I'm nothing You will always be my favorite form of loving“

Steve looked over his shoulder and as you were singing you made direct eye contact with him. He gave you the sweetest smile and you couldn’t stop looking at him for the rest of your shift. When your shift was done you walked up to him and looked at his glass of water “Weird drink for a bar” Steve laughs, “Yeah I know I’m just a weird person I guess” You laugh “ It’s ok. I like weird.”

TIME SKIP

From that day on you two had been inseparable. You had given him your phone number and had gone on many dates after that night. He had asked you to be his girlfriend and you were officially living in the compound with him. It takes a bit of time to get used to living with THE Avengers but you were used to it now. You woke up that morning, Steve’s arms wrapped around you. You couldn’t believe that you had gotten in this amazing position all because of a song you sung. Steve wakes up and kisses your cheek. “ Good morning hon.” You smile “ Morning baby.” 

He gets up and you notice that he has a boner. You look at him blushing “ Uh Steve...you have a situation.” “ Oh God!” he looks down trying to cover it. “ I’m so sorry Y/N” You chuckled “ Its ok babe. Do you need help?” “What? No. i could never ask you to do that.” “ You don’t need to worry about it babe.” “B-but I don’t wanna force you to do anything” You got up and walked over to him. “ You are so cute yet so clueless.” “So you mean its ok?” “Yes Steve. I promise” With that he kissed you passionately. 

You wrapped your arms around his neck pulling him closer. He picked you up carried you to the bed and laid you down. He pulled away and slowly pulled your shirt off “ You’re so beautiful doll.” You blushes and took his shirt off as well. He took the rest of your clothes off kissing your inner thigh. You bucked you hips and he took off his clothes and your eyes widened at the size of his cock. Steve hovered over you putting on a condom “ Don’t worry baby we’ll take it slow.” You nodded. 

When you told him you were ready he slowly pushed in with you gasping. He stopped and waited calming you down. You adjusted to him a bit and you nodded for him to move. He groaned and started moving slowly and you moaned. “S-Steve...go faster. Please!” With that make moved quickly, both of you moaning. “You look so beautiful baby....Doing so good. He kept going hitting spots no one ever had before and before too long you got closer and closer to your orgasm. “Steve! I-I’m gonna cum!” “Cum for me beautiful. Its ok.” After he said that you came gripping his shoulders. Not long after he came as well spilling into the condom both of you moaning.

After riding out bothof your highs, he pulled out and threw the condom away. He got dressed and helped but a shirt on you. He got in bed and laid down next you as you two talked. You smiled at him and cuddled up to him and he started humming a song. It sounded terribly confusing. And then he sung it. 

“But when she loves me, I feel like I’m floating When shе calls me pretty, I feel like somеbody Even when we fade eventually to nothing You will always be my favorite form of loving“

[mrspanky]

I'm not really sure how long these are meant to be. "Right, I'm pretty sure that's called trauma".

Trauma Bonding, (a Jason Todd x Reader)

Warnings: Language.

Genre: Fluff/angst/comedy/romance

Authors note: This prompt is perfect, thank you @aethers-stuff ! Sorry it took me so long to write! I hope you like it. ♡(: _______________________________________________

Dick watched you two from the kitchen.

Jason was seated on one end of his livingroom couch and you on the other. You were talking loudly, gesturing with your hands so much that you looked like Italians at a family gathering. You were both exceptionally expressive and extroverted people on your own, so when you got together, the room's volume was always raised a noticeable few notches.

It was endearing, but a real headache when it went on for too long.

Dick massaged his temple. An extrovert himself, he felt the need to jump into the conversation, but he knew better. You and Jason would simply not shut up long enough for him to get a word in when you were both really on a roll, and Dick didn't feel like expelling that much energy. Plus, he was curious to see where this would end.

“...That’s ridiculous Jason”.

You crossed your arms.

“There is no way in hell you're dying your white streak black.”

He raised his hand from the couch armrest in exasperation.

“I wasn't even asking you.”

You arched an eyebrow.

“You should've been. The white streak stays. It's your trademark. If you're concerned about me being right, I dare you to ask everyone to vote.”

“Hon, I am not in the practice of asking people if I can or can't do things.”

“Luckily, you never ask me my opinion so you don't have to worry about breaking your pattern just yet.”

“...You never keep it to yourself, so why would I even bother”.

Dick shook his head. You were like an old, emotionally constipated couple and it was amusing to observe.

“Just kiss already”, he said under his breath.

You turned your head towards the kitchen, hearing him faintly, but almost unintelligibly.

“Dick, did you say something? Sorry, we're arguing here, I hope we're not too obnoxious”.

“Hey don’t throw me under the bus with you, I was just trying to have a moment of quiet meaningless thought when you started playing hair cop,” Jason quipped.

“Hush.”

“Right back at you”.

“-Both of you shut up for a minute. I didn't say anything”.

Dick rolled his eyes.

“However, we do have patrol in an hour, and Bruce sent me some weird instructions.”

“Weird how?”

You tilted your head in curiosity.

Jason glanced at you, and huffed a little. He couldn't help himself. Despite himself, he found you really endearing. Especially in moments like this when your lips were pouted in confusion and....”.

Dick snapped Jason out of his brain fog.

“Jay. Buddy. Try to pay attention.”

“Wasn't not doing that,” he grumbled.

“Then what did I just say.”

The two brothers shared a childish battle of glares.

“...fine, you made your point. I was dreaming about this whisky I saw in the manor the other day”, he lied.

“Ok. Very in character, Jason. Now, the mission is-”

“...looked decadent. It was really old and had this fancy label on it that-”

“...Guys. I can hear you from the other room”, Tim walked in looking miffed.

There was a pause as all three of the human boom-boxes stared blankly at the intruder.

“...you’re a detective, Tim”, Jason deadpanned.

“Ugh, Jason...that’s not the... just shut up.”

Tim pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose.

“Did you all get the mission briefing?”

“Somehow, Jason didn't”, Dick fumed.

“Alright, fine. Basically, Jason, you, and Y/n are staying back tonight because you're the only ones who haven't been seen yet in the city, and Bruce wants to save you guys for an undercover mission next week”.

“What?!”

You both looked at each other in disgust.

“I'm not working for the bat anymore!”

“Yeah, and I've never even started to work for him! He can't just expect us to be at his disposal and then bench us!”

“Guys, relax. He's just doing this so you can have a better element of surprise later. You're both really valuable, ” Dick reasoned.

You and Jason paused, your egos begrudgingly satisfied.

“...fine”.

“Fine”.

“Good. Ok. So everyone suit up”, the oldest brother concluded.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Jason was irritated.

He found you interesting. Really interesting. Usually, he dealt with his fear of vulnerability by acting too unbothered to care, but you intrigued him so much that he struggled to keep his mouth shut around you. He was afraid to get too close to you; he would lose you eventually like everyone else.

But, he knew so little about you, despite all of the banter. A talent you both possessed, was chattering without disclosing any actual information. You had only met each other two months ago, and usually it would take both of you longer to warm up to a new person, but there was just a feeling. You were kindred spirits. He wanted to learn more about you, despite himself.

“So what brought you here”.

“Here as in what brought me to dress up and punch criminals as a nightly routine, or as in what brought me to be in an alliance with Bruce Wayne that I'm now regretting?”

There it was. Those were the kind of responses that made Jason feel just enough on his toes to be uncharacteristically comfortable with you.

“Take your pick I guess.”

“Bruce Wayne it is then. I'm not really a fan of my life story”.

“Ttt, ” Jason laughed, taking a page from his youngest brother’s book.

“I'm kind of an accidental friend of Dick’s. We met first at the Bludhaven police station, I was there for...pfft...I was just there, ” You paused with a laugh.

“He helped me out, and we didn't see each other again until he ended up working with me anonymously for info on a case as Nightwing years later. We both just figured out each other's identities and he brought me on a mission once where I met Bruce. And Bruce is a convincing prick so now here I am, somehow under his command”.

“Sounds about right. So when do we kiss?”

Great. Now he sounded like an asshole.

Jason looked at you, gauging to see what your reaction would be. He’d half said that last part by accident, but now that he’d acted out of impulse he knew he couldn’t take it back.

“-What?”

“When do we kiss? You heard Dick”.

He was really committing to his blunder now.

“Yes, and I ignored him and smoothly got him to change the subject. Besides. You're not my type”, you lied.

Jason was in fact, exactly your type.

“What is your type?”

“Shit”, you thought.

“Hmm. I like people who I can chase that don't actually like me, and then I eventually get to give up. It makes it easier”.

You admitted this in a tongue-in-cheek manner, but you weren't really kidding. Something about Jason’s persistence made you want to open up, despite your usual habitual wall-building.

“You're like a fucking mirror; you know that?” Jason laughed.

He knew you weren’t kidding because he’d said things along those lines millions of times.

“Your point, Mr. Therapist? People hurt people. I kind of prefer to enjoy relationships from a distance at best”.

“Right, I'm pretty sure that's called trauma”.

“Call it what you will, but it's a good way of not getting even more mentally busted up than an already fucked vigilante”, you grinned.

“Nice.” he smirked.

“You sound as dumb as me”.

“That’s a little low don’t you think? I’m only half as dumb as you at most, but yeah. Fine. We share some things”.

“What’s that supposed to mean Princess,” he smiled.

He felt himself get exited a little. What you had just said made it sound like you felt you two were similar just as he did.

“That I think we’re both stupid people that have really stubborn hearts that get us into trouble”.

Your heart was beating so fast. You hadn’t meant to say that much.

“Now who’s the therapist”, he said in a low voice.

He leaned in closer to you a little, testing the waters to see if you were just being a little cautious, or if you actually weren’t comfortable. He felt like you were just being scared like he always was deep down, but he didn’t want to push you if it was only going to cause you both more pain.

He was a little scared too. You scared him. Not just because you were powerful and beautiful, but because he actually liked you. He wasn’t used to that. But he knew himself, and when Jason Todd does something, he can’t do it half way. If you were in this too, he knew he’d do anything for you, and that was terrifyingly vulnerable.

As he leaned in, your breath caught.

“Fuck”, you thought.

His eyes were stunning.

You hadn’t let yourself notice how much until now.

“Jason…”

“...Todd why are you about to taint Y/n”.

Jason spun around.

“Damian!” you yelled.

The small Wayne was standing in the doorway.

“Shortstack, you are too young to be using a fancy word like taint”, Jason recovered.

Tim and Dick emerged behind Damian in the doorway.

“What’s going on?” Tim asked.

“Todd was just about to be disgusting with Y/n in front of all of us”, Damian smirked, crossing his arms.

He knew he just set up Dick to take a fit.

The oldest brother was not pleased.

“Jason, really? Damian is right here and you didn’t think to chill?”

Jason rolled his eyes.

“We didn’t do anything Dicky. The kid here is being a drama queen. The only thing he walked in on us doing was some good old fashioned arguing”.

Jason knew he was making himself look like a major...well...dick, but he knew you wouldn’t want to commit to the family knowing about anything that might be going on between you two, however small just yet.

Dick rolled his eyes, and the three brothers walked in the doorway and into the kitchen to get water. You and Jason were always an entertaining spectacle for sure, but patrol was tiring, and they all needed to cool down.

Jason looked back to you. You were looking at your feet with your arms crossed and a barely contained smile on your face.

“The kid has good timing,” he huffed with a laugh.

“Oh fantastic”, you gazed at him, laughing back quietly.

“So, you want to talk some more about trauma?” He asked in a playful, but matter of fact tone.

“Maybe sometime, Red,” you smiled.

You turned and walked away.

“She’s gonna make me work for this”, he thought.

It had been so long since either of you had met your match, and you both were going to thoroughly enjoy this.

[carnelianns]

(Ikesen and Ikevamp) Sorry if this has been asked before. But how about an MC who went back to her own time only to find out she was pregnant. How would the boys reaxt if she comes back somehow a few years later but with a young child she says is theirs.

im sorry for keeping u waiting this long anon huhu,, i only did the vamps but, if my askbox allows, i’ll come back to do the sen boys too ! i didn’t have a specific gender for their children so jus imagine the lil rascal any way u want

Napoleon Bonaparte

When you come back through that door with a fascinated child holding your hand, it’s him you meet first again, and the tears are already glossing his eyes over before you can say anything.

He literally has no words when you smile gently, saying it’s his. Napoleon swallows the bump in his throat before making his way to the both of you, holding the two of you in his arms for only god knows how long.

“I.. can’t wait to live my life with you both, nununche,” he mumbles into your hair, ears slightly tinged, only causing you to laugh at his adorable antics.

As a father, he isn’t very strict, and he isn’t all that good in child-rearing, either. But he tries — you have to keep reminding yourself of this when you catch them in a compromising position, usually when you see your child holding a foil with a goofy smile.

“Nunuche.. I can explain,” Napoleon says calmly when you first find the two of them — well, three; it seems Jean was in on this little practice, though he quickly bolted when he saw you — parading around the training room with the foils.

“Mamma, papa said he was the King! He teached me how to be King!” Your child exclaims, flailing the weapon around excitedly as your gaze only darkens.

“Well, you see, I meant emperor, but—” his words die down when he sees your unimpressed face practically dripping with the murderous intent he’s so used to fighting against on the battle field

Slowly kneeling down to meet your child’s eyes, you see him whispering something incoherent before the little one nods seriously, slowly putting down the foil.

Then, as if counting down ‘3, 2, 1′, Napoleon immediately hoists your child up in his arms, running out of the room as both his laughter and your child’s squeals echo throughout the halls.

“Napoleone di Buonaparte, get your ass back here right now!” You scream, running after them.

“3, 2, 1 — Vive L’Empereur!” The two of them scream back, before bursting into laughter. They’re always in sync. It’s exasperating.

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart

“That child is.. mine?” He asks, slightly jaw-slacked, pointing at the child that undeniably looks like him, if the identical beauty mark or violet eyes are anything to go by.

“Do you.. not want—”

“I never said that,” he instantly cuts you off, going over to kneel at the confused child. With a slight smile, in an attempt to hold his tears back, he manages, “So.. how was spending time with that clumsy mother of yours?”

Mozart doesn’t really know how to spend time with his child, though he’s clearly not opposed to carrying the little rascal around on his shoulders, or dragging the child clinging onto his leg around when stubbornness bites.

You often don’t know what he’s thinking whenever he spends time with your child, or the whole situation, but rest assured, he wouldn’t change it for the world, despite how he may look.

A clear example of this is when you once walked into the piano room only to see your little darling on top of the grand white piano itself, snoozing on top of a small comforter whilst your lover plays the soft tunes you’ve grown to love.

Shock holds you captive as you stare at the lovely sight, before finally trailing off, “Mozart..”

Without so much as glancing at you, he replies, voice hushed in a soft tone you don’t hear so often. The blissful smile on his face speaks thousands of words.

“I thought you were the only one foolish enough to let your guard down in front of me… It seems I was wrong.”

Leonardo da Vinci

He had an inkling the moment he saw the child sporting caramel eyes so similar to his own, tawny gaze regarding the large mansion with wonder.

And when you did reveal that the child is actually his, he only pulled you close to his chest, hoisting the little one up with his other arm.

“Papa has a lot of time to make up to you, doesn’t he?”

Leonardo is good with children, if it isn’t obvious. Not in your conventional dad way wherein he brings the child to school — in fact, he probably fell asleep in the hallway just when the two were about to leave — but he's awfully good at keeping his child entertained.

Running around the mansions, creating new inventions, learning a new language — sometimes, you have to remind yourself that this child’s father is literally Leonardo da Vinci.

A position you often see them in, however, is snoozing on the floor, probably near the library, your child a small ball curled into Leonardo’s arms and head in the crook of his neck.

“Again? Really?” You can only huff, though that doesn’t stop the small smile from spreading on your face as you brush the locks of hair out of your lover’s face.

“Cara mia,” he rasps out, cracking a bleary eye open and gripping your wrist softly. Then, he smiles, all sorts of soft and lovely and.. unguarded.

“You two.. are the best things that have happened to me.”

Arthur Conan Doyle

Arthur tries swallowing back the lump in his throat when he sees you standing in front of that damned door, though to no avail as a tear slips.

He starts full-on crying when you say that you’re back for good and that the child is his, and he’ll have to be comforted by yours and your child’s tiny arms before he even plans to stop.

“Ah, crying like that on our first meeting… Don’t you think your fath — I’m a bit embarrassing?” He asks, sniffling as he musters a smile.

Your child giggles, blue eyes crinkling. “No! Mommy told me a whooooole lot about you, daddy!”

He has to stop himself from sobbing again.

Arthur wastes no time in making up for what he’s missed, and every single day is one you’d find the two of them either in town or messing about at home.

If not, then they’re probably just chilling in the comforts of his room, doing god knows what. The day you peek in to see what exactly they were up to was a blessed day.

Maneuvering yourself in a way that lets you see through the tiny crack of the open door, your jaw drops at the adorable sight of your child in a tiny deerstalker and trench coat far too big for his form, Arthur nodding with a serious look on his face.

“So, Watson, do you think crepes make mummy happier?” Your child asks, holding his magnifying glass up — one you’re sure is from Leonardo — like a mic in front of Arthur’s face.

He strokes his chin for a moment, before answering, “Seeing her reaction when we gave her the ones we bought yesterday, I deduce they do, Sherlock.”

“Good dedoo – deduck – deduction, Watson! I thought so too.”

Your heart literally melts. The two are far too cute for you, you having to calm yourself before walking in with the widest smile on your face. Dorks. 

Vincent van Gogh

When you meet those familiar, cerulean eyes from your place in front of the door, they’re already glossy in seconds, a flurry of emotions clear on Vincent’s face, though his smile says it all.

“Is it too much to say I’ve been waiting for you this whole time?”

Vincent would be practically wallowing in regret that he wasn’t able to be a part of his child’s life for the first few years, leading him to do any and everything that will cause his child to smile. In simpler terms, he’s basically wrapped around the little one’s finger.

He’s so adorable and happy that he’s blessed with your lovely child, and there’s an immediate smile on his face when he so much as thinks about the little blondie.

He literally makes the other residents question whether or not they want a child too.

Their bonding time is painting and, more often than not, it ends up with all three of you cramped in the shower, scrubbing furiously at the sticky paint on their skin.

“I’m sorry for having you do this all the time,” Vincent’s soft voice only makes you sigh in relaxation as he massages your shoulders from behind you, causing your fingers to halt in their journey of rubbing some blue paint off your child.

“It’ll take more than that if you wanna make it up to me,” you hum, leaning back into his chest and looking up into his bright eyes.

Your lips were just about to meet, when —

“Mam, I’m not clean yet!”

You groan, Vincent only laughing as you meet the crossed arms of your child pouting child.

“Don’t give your mammie too much of a hard time, okay?” He never forgets to take care of you above all, of course.

Theodorus van Gogh

When he first sees you after years with a child, his child, grasping your hand, Theo has to literally disappear to cool his head off because he’s angry.

Not at you, no, never, but at himself. That he wasn’t there for his child, for you, and god, even if he were, would he have been a good father?

“Hon — Schatje,” he starts, running his fingers through his already messy hair and staring at you with eyes that practically bleed insecurity, his voice breaking. “How am I supposed to take care of a child when I couldn’t even take care of you?”

After many reassuring words and gentle touches, Theo’s finally okay, holding up and scrutinising your child much like how he does a painting. He’s, well, awkward.

Theo is surprisingly very gentle with your child because he honestly doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing.

He’s also very grounded and doesn’t fall for cute little tricks that much either, so out of the residents, he’d be one of the better fathers.

“Nee.” “Papje, pleaaase?” “No. Non. Nee.”

Your lover’s fixed refusal causes you to peek your head into a lovely picture. Theo was holding a chocolate bar high above his head, steely gaze fixed on your young child with his puppy dog eyes in full view.

“Je mama said no chocolate, right?” Your heart warms when you realise he remembered your scoldings, though you can’t help but to feel bad for your whining baby.

“Theo,” you say, both their heads turning towards you. “How about you give the little baby some chocolate and we all enjoy some pancakes, yeah?”

The way both their eyes shine almost identically is adorable.

Dazai Osamu

When you showed up again with the child in hand, one he knows is his, his first thought, first wish, is that for that tiny thing to not be his. Because no one knows how harsh this world is more than the man who wished to end it all, so much more than once.

But Dazai makes up his mind when he sees you and your — his child staring up at him with those eyes that look so much like your own. He makes up his mind, despite his own continuous suffering, that he’ll never let this child go through what he had to.

“Was I staring too much?” He smiles, slightly sad and, well, empty. “I suppose it’s because the little one looks far too much like you.” Bright. Too bright for me.

As a father, he’s surprisingly really good with children? He quite enjoys seeing your child smile more than anything, and one way he knows how to do so is by perching the little one on his shoulders, running around the mansion as his hands intertwine with small, tiny fingers.

You don’t know whether to yell at him and his close-eyed grin, or simply laugh at the resonating giggles of your child. Probably both as you chase the two down the halls.

Dazai often zones out whenever he’s playing with your child, a look you can only describe as pure bliss on those handsome features of his. As you stare up at him, confusion clear on your features, you ask, “Hey, Dazai, why do you.. Zone out so much? Whenever you’re with, you know,” you motion to the snoozing one in between the both of you.

“Why do I zone out, you ask?” He gives you a smile, a real one this time, and gently pokes at the little ones cheeks. “I think.. I’ve found a wonderful reason to live, is all.”

Isaac Newton

“That’s… mine??” “That?” “... It?” “It?” “The.. child?”

Isaac is very flustered, for lack of better terms. He can barely manage the children he and Napoleon go see intermittently, but his own child? Lord, help him.

He gets awfully flushed whenever he’s carrying his child around the mansion because even then, he isn’t spared by Arthur and Dazai’s teasing remarks — in fact, it only seems to have gotten worse.

Isaac is surprisingly good at getting your rascal child to sleep with his bedtime stories, which are usually all his unsaid rambles.

“And did daddy get that bruise on his forehead because he slipped while chasing Uncle Dazai and Uncle Arthur?”

Your child nods, bright eyes sparkling and toothy grin showing. “Daddy also said, ‘Get back here, you devilish imbeciles!’”

Your accusatory gaze turns towards Isaac, who averts his eyes, holding an ice pack to his bruising forehead.

“I-In my defense, they were—”

“One more time, Isaac, and I’m changing this baby’s legal godfathers to the two imbeciles you love so much.”

Gaping, his eyes widen to the size of saucers, “You wouldn’t.”

“Try me.”

He is now a grumbling mess when the two are around his child, but the lack of chasing them around with a stick in hand can be counted as an upgrade.

Jean d’Arc

When you walk through that door once more, nervously telling your lover that this child is his, you’re afraid of his reaction — after all, Jean is, despite his vampiric aging, barely an adult himself.

His jaw drops and he can’t stop staring at you nor the child with his inky locks, and you have to help him sit and calm down.

“Papa?” Your child asks, staring up at the still slightly panicked Jean as you hold your breath.

He stares for a moment, mouth wide, before finally, finally smiling, albeit a little awkward and rough around the edges. “Yes, little one?”

He’s extremely unaccustomed to this whole parent thing and can barely do anything without asking you first, so he feels bad quite often for having to lean on you so much.

Although he barely knows how to handle a sobbing child, nor can he entertain the child very well, you find that the both of them are quite content in each other’s presence as is.

Jean, well, looks ethereal as the sun shines through the windows in his room, a gentle smile gracing his face as he stares at his sleeping child.

He utters your name, causing you to look up, only to find him tracing circles around your child’s soft skin.

“Is this.. how it’s like to be happy?”

William Shakespeare

When Shakespeare wakes up to the news that you are, in fact, back at the mansion with a little surprise, he’s already there in no time.

He didn’t expect the little surprise to be a little child that’s practically an identical copy of him. But he’s always been more of a shoot first, ask questions later type of guy, so he immediately whisks you off to his manor, much to the exasperation of the residents who were surprisingly enjoying their time with the little Shakespeare lookalike.

Except he doesn’t really need to ask questions, because he’s already figured everything out through your soft, slightly nervous gaze, and your lovely little mannerisms.

“Alas, it seems the Heavens were kind enough to grant my wish,” he says as he stares at your child, only smiling to meet your confused gaze. “For I only wished you weren’t too lonely without my presence.”

William is always with his child, whatever the circumstances. Though he quite enjoys showing off his child, he’s also keen on spending his every waking second with the little tyke because he knows how it feels like to grow up lonely, and he wouldn't bestow that upon his own little one.

“Darling, it appears I has’t gotten myself into a slight predicament.”

If you could, you would have snapped a picture of your smiling lover practically itching to get up, yet unable to do so due to the sleeping child in his lap.

“And how did you get yourself into this predicament, my love?” You tease, your own smile on your face. He has a habit of reading his writings aloud, and it seems the little one fell asleep to William’s gentle voice.

“My works seem to be but a mere bedtime story to this little one,” he motions to the child, his smile softening. “I wonder why it does not dishearten me.”

Comte de Saint-Germain

“I was hoping you’d be back, ma chérie.” His perfunctory smile betrays the inner flurry of emotions inside him as he glances towards the child. “With a lovely little thing in hand.”

“Your lovely little thing,” you say gently, and the surprise outlining his normally composed face is something you’d forever save in your mind.

Comte is wrapped around the little one’s finger, his rotten spoiling being the effect of not being in your child’s life for a good while, and, of course, his indispensable regret for having you come back to him.

Many times have you asked Sebastian the whereabouts of your lover and your child, only for him to give you the look, responding that they were out yet again, and are probably not coming back without a few shopping bags in hand.

Then, to finally put a stop to it all, you decided to conduct a harmless experiment.

Placing a few coins on one side of his desk, a toy in the middle, and a beloved fruit on the side. After explaining to him that it’s to see what your child’s fate would be — picking between fortune, fun, and, well, snacks, you think — he simply leans back, interest shining in those eyes of his.

Unsurprisingly for you, your child pushes all these away in a second, opting to hug the wide-eyed man on the soft armchair behind the desk.

“And what.. does this mean, ma chérie?” He asks, honest-to-god confused as his hands slowly wrap around your child’s form.

You smile softly, “Isn’t it obvious, silly? The little rascal loves you more than anything.”

His eyes are suspiciously glossy before he laughs it off, preparing for yet another shopping spree — you regret everything.

Sebastian

He only gives you a knowing smile when you pass through the door with a young child gripping your hand.

“So.. this is the little one, is it?” He asks, tone soft as he walks towards you, wrapping a sturdy arm around your waist and meeting eyes with his child. “I’m a strict father, mind you.”

“Sebastian!” “I was joking. Slightly.”

Despite being a father, Sebastian is as strict and precise as ever around the mansion, rarely having to leave either his work or his family unattended due to his impeccable time management skills.

And if he struggles with both, well, he just has to merge them into one task, doesn’t he? Many are the times wherein the residents catch Sebastian working, his little runt on his tail or on his hip.

“They’re at it again, you know,” Mozart says in passing, only causing you to groan.

“Sebastian! How many times have I told you not in the kitchen?” You exclaim, walking into the kitchen to find your lover and your child tackling yet another chore together.

It seemed to be baking this time, if the flour on both of their faces says anything.

“Mama!” Your child exclaims with powdered hands as Sebastian says blankly, “We’re doing chores.”

You merely roll your eyes, sighing as you walk out the room. Your apology comes later when a sloppy cupcake makes its way into your view.

Your eyes move up to your proud looking child, hair obviously patted down in an attempt to look presentable while your lover sports a tiny grin on his own face.

“We made this for you, mom! Papa said he wanted to make you reaaaally happy.”

Sebastian’s head instantly snaps down, eyes narrowing, “Hey.”

You can only laugh at your two babies, taking a bite of the surprisingly good and sweeter than an average cupcake.

[nataliedanovelist]

GF - The Girls and Their Ghosts

For @evaroze, a sweet gal who inspired me with her super kawaii art. I hope you enjoyed it! And a special shout out goes to @stephreynaart and her comic, who never fails to make me laugh and I couldn’t help but include it in this piece. (There may or may not be a part 2...)

(slight name change to better fit a cute headcanon)

~~~~~~~~~~

“MOVE! MOVE! OUTTA THE WAY!”

“Ouch!”

“Sorry, sorry!”

“Oh, dear me!”

“SHADDUP! MOVE!”

“Stanley, calm down.”

“PICK UP THE PACE, SIXER, I AIN’T MISSING THIS!”

Ford rolled his eyes with a smile on his worn face, weather-beaten and tired, but he continually ran after his twin. Despite the fact that their bodies would hate them for this later, they ran through the hospital as fast as they could. They weren’t this late when Soos had his son. Luck just hadn’t been by their side this time.

After battling a fierce storm to reach the coastline, finding the Stanmobile and having to explain why they were picking it up earlier than scheduled, racing to the center of the state, and parking in an emergency handicap spot, the old sailors in their mid-eighties used all of their strength to reach the Gravity Falls Hospital in time. While Ford was beyond jubilant, Stan was the most frantic and spirited, but that didn’t mean Ford didn’t punch three jerks in the face when confronted at the docks and that he would have no issue using a recovered memory gun to wipe some cops’ memories of a speeding Diablo.

Stan jammed the button for the elevator a few times, decided it was too slow, and bolted to the stairs. Ford followed, pulling out his magnet gun, and called, “Stanley, grab hold of me!”

Inside the stair-covered hallway, Stan grabbed his brother tightly and Ford shot upward, zapping them up a few floors and they landed like cats at the door to the sixth floor. They ran down the hall and Stan counted the doors. “Four… five… six… damn it, where’s eighteen?!”

“Grunkle Stan?”

Stan would recognize that voice anywhere. He ran faster (Ford didn’t think that was even possible) and around the corner Mabel, Gideon, Soos, and Dipper and Mabel’s parents were in a small waiting lobby. Mabel skipped to the old men happily, letting her orange-haired fiancee stay behind at a safe distance, and she hugged them tightly. Ford and Stan squeezed her tightly, haven’t seen her since the summer, the old tradition of a long reunion still going strong, and they soon let her go to have a look at the beautiful young lady with long brown hair, eyes that matched their own, and black lips with pink eyeshadow.

“Well?” Ford huffed, low on oxygen.

“She’s fine, everything’s okay.” Mabel giggled and patted their shoulders. “Any minute now.”

“We did miss it?” Stan checked hopefully.

“Nope!” Mabel said cheerfully. “They wanted to be alone for this, but when the baby’s born we can all go in.”

Stan held his pounding chest and collapsed into a chair. Soos was there to pat his shoulder and welcome him home, to which he immediately asked where his grandson was and if he was too cool for him now, but Soos just laughed and said that Melody would bring him once everything had calmed down.

An hour or so passed before nurses and the doctor started to leave the room. A few more minutes passed with everyone watching the door carefully and soon a very tired-looking Dipper emerged, pinching the bridge of his nose with a bandaged hand. It was amazing how much he resembled the men before him, sturdy and strong like his Grunkle Stan, but still fluffy and favored layers of clothing, like his Grunkle Ford. Like most men in the family, he required glasses, which he happily sported, alongside a small golden band on his left hand and a brown fur coat an old friend had given to him as a wedding present. Dipper had a little bit of stubble, promising a short old dutch beard and possibly a mustache (Stan prayed not a stupid mustache), and despite the bags under his eyes and the tiniest bit of redness that circles his soft brown spears, the windows to his soul sparkled with pure joy and his smile was radiant.

In an instant, his twin sister ran to him and he engulfed her in a huge hug, one that swept her off her feet and spun her around and made her giggle like the child she was at heart. Mabel eventually let him go to ruffle his hair and then asked, “So…”

Dipper grinned, his eyes sweeping the area to see who had arrived in time, and he croaked, his throat thick with emotion, “It’s a girl.”

Mabel squealed and bounced like there were springs at the bottom of her heels. Their parents high-fived and the new grandmother looked close to tears. Soos punched Gideon’s shoulder with a smile. Stan sneakily handed Ford a ten dollar bill, both grinning widely at the arrival of their first great-grandniece. God, that made them sound ancient.

“Congratulations, Dipper!” Ford cheered and clapped a six-fingered hand on his shoulder.

“So when can we see the little princess?” Stan asked with a huge smile.

“Right now,” Dipper said and opened the door for the small crowd.

Stan slipped his beanie off and held it with hands that trembled with excitement. Every time he was allowed in a delivery room had been special. Dipper and Mabel being born had been both painful and joyful, being the first new family members that didn’t hate him or pity him. Jacob Stanley Ramirez’s birth had been honorable with tears and hugs and no hint of pain, though Stan never became a father like he had once dreamed, he was now a grandfather. Now, his own little niblings had a baby to call their own. Stan had been terrified that he might not live to see this day, so he was grateful that not only he got to be here, but that Ford was here with him.

In the bed, freshly cleaned, tired, and glowing with pride and love, Pacifica held a pink bundle in her arms. Dipper was by her side soon enough, rubbing her shoulders and kissing her forehead in thanks. Her smirk immediately went to the old men, but it was too distracted by a trembling, squealing woman her age.

“Oh my gosh, oh my gosh! Paz, she’s perfect!”

“You haven’t even seen her yet, Mabel.”

“Don’t care, she’s my niece, therefore she’s perfect!”

“Well, come here and meet your goddaughter.” Dipper chuckled.

Mabel was suddenly deadly still, the still-est she had been all day. With the color drained from her face and making her look like a vampire thanks to her mixture of pink and black outfit, she whispered, “I’m… I’m…”

The new parents nodded with supportive smiles. “No one’s better for the job, hon.” Pacifica said earnestly.

Mabel could only bite her lip as she stood by her twin and peered down at the bundle.

Stan and Ford stood by her side, now at the foot of the bed, and awed at the sight. A teeny tiny head was swaddled in the midst of the soft blanket. It was like when Stan saw those newborn twins all over again. A blank canvas with small resemblances to their parents. Stan swore this gal had that Pines’ baby button nose and she somehow already had that perfect Northwest skin complexion. His opinion may be biased, but who cares? This baby was the most beautiful Stan had ever seen (right next to his other kids, duh).

“Wow…” Stan choked. “She’s p-p-pretty.”

“Stanley, are you crying?” Ford chuckled.

“Shaddup.” He said weakly and wiped his wet eyes with his arm.

Pacifica smiled warmly and offered, “Wanna hold her, you old fart?”

With a quick cough and a clearing of his throat, Stan nodded and sat in the offered chair by Pacifica’s side. At this point the old man was an expert on accepting babies and how to hold them properly. He had been practicing since he was seventeen and got to hold Shermie’s son, who today became a grandfather and looked ready to fight Stan for a chance to hold the baby.

However, this time was different. Stan couldn’t be selfish with his time with her. She had tons of other people to love her and make sure she was happy. She didn’t need him. So much unlike Stan, who fought Shermie for five more minutes to hold the twins, and who held Jacob for hours as he cried silently, he let Ford hold the newborn after a few minutes and was content in watching. The rapid trip had tired him out.

“What’s her name?” Ford asked his grandnephew.

“Angelina Susan.” Dipper said proudly.

Everyone was merciful enough to ignore how wet Pacifica’s eyes were.

~~~~~~~~~~

Ford had been having a conversation with Dipper over mugs of coffee while Stan entertained Angel when the conversation accidentally morphed into a monologue of Dipper explaining the progress of his ghost-hunting show to his old idol. Ford was listening. Or, half-listening.

As it was customary, Stan found a new snuggle buddy by letting Dipper’s daughter sleep on his chest, a hand over Angel protectively. The baby was almost a year old now and slept with her thumb in her mouth with dirty-blonde hair that she inherited from both parents. Ford smiled at the bright child. While Stan had always been amazing with children, there was something special about Angel that Ford couldn’t quite shake. Seeing her so happy and at peace made him feel the same way.

Later that night, Ford was in the kitchen for something to drink when he heard the start of a baby’s cries. He and Stan were staying with Dipper and Pacifica for the holidays this year while the Mystery Shack was undertaking repairs, and so the old sailor had no issue assisting with the baby if he could to repay the parents for their hospitality by letting them sleep. In his cozy blue flannel pajamas, Ford quietly entered Angel’s nursery and peeked inside, his ears cursed with the stressed cries and he was determined to solve whatever problem the baby had and to put her at ease.

Angel’s cries morphed into whimpers at the sight of the old man above her crib. Her lip trembled and she held her little arms up for him. Ford chuckled and gently scooped her up. “Oh, it’s alright, my dear. It’s alright. I’m here.” He cooed softly and rubbed her back, letting Angel rest her tiny head on his shoulder. “What’s the matter, sweetheart?”

Ford ran through his big head for a diagnosis of Angel’s distress. No bad smells, no sign of pain or injury. She might be hungry, Ford thought, but just as he was about to leave with her for the kitchen to try to find some milk to give her, the aged scientist noticed something. Angel was holding him very tight. Though she was no longer wailing, she was still crying, even trembling a little, but she did not feel cold. Ford re-positioned Angel to feel her forehead, but she did not feel warm. He then saw her beautiful baby blue eyes and knew what was wrong. Angel had been terrified by something.

Ford smiled softly and held her by his shoulder again to rub her back and he swayed slightly where he stood. “It’s alright, it’s alright, my lovely. It was only a nightmare. They all go away eventually, trust me.”

He and Angel slowly settled into the rocker for restless babies and Ford gently pushed back and forward. Angel was no longer crying now, still clinging onto her uncle’s pajamas tightly, like he was a lifeline, but she was starting to calm down and understand that she was safe. “That’s it, my little angel, that’s it.” Ford praised her quietly.

A quick glance outside told him that it had started to snow in the middle of the night. He smiled at the idea of playing with Angel in the morning, wrapped up like Eskimos and enjoying the gift nature had provided. An old song came to mind and so Ford hummed it quietly to the baby. Perhaps Ma had sung it a fair few times, or maybe it was a brand new tune Ford had made up. Who knows? Regardless, soon Angel was fast asleep and the old man had no strength to get up, so Dipper would simply have to find them in the morning and sneak a picture for jokes and memories.

~~~~~~~~~~

Three years passed. Angel was a bubbly, curious child with a pair of baby twin sisters, Stella and Estelle. It was nice to know Dipper and Mabel wouldn’t be the only set of twins in the family. Mabel and Gideon had their own family, Jacob had even grown up and graduated high-school just a few weeks ago. Stan was beyond proud, and the last four years on land with Dipper and his family to help around the house and practically work at the Mystery Shack had brought its own joys as did sailing around the world. But he was tired.

Ford held his hand when he didn’t have the strength one morning to get out of bed. They had been silent, simply enjoying each other’s presence, for they had already said everything that needed to be said. Not only said it, but said it a million times in the years they had spent sailing around the world and retiring in Gravity Falls together. But Ford wanted to assure his brother of one thing, detecting how hard he was fighting to stay.

He cleared his throat, squeezed his twin’s hand, and croaked, “You can let go, Stanley.”

Stan chuckled weakly. “Nah, I ain’t ready to go. Believe it or not, there’s still something I wanna stick around for.”

Ford smiled at that. He had feared that after so many years of neglect and only staying alive because he had something to do, that when there was nothing to do, he wouldn’t have the will to stay. He was beyond relieved to discover he was wrong. “What is that?”

Stan gave his brother a cocky look, despite being so tired and weak. “My family, Sixer. I’m not leaving them anytime soon.”

Ford found that he completely understood, and privately agreed. “Neither am I.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Not many people thought Ford would last long after Stan died, but the eldest twin managed to stick around for five years before he died of a peaceful heart attack in his sleep. The Pines family were saddened, but they were also happy that the brothers were reunited and that they had both lived full and happy lives. And they knew them well enough to know they would not have been pleased if everyone was sad and made their names taboo.

Angel remembered her grunkles vividly. She was eight when Grunkle Ford died and she took it hard, being very close to him and admiring him like her father before her had, but her family helped her get through it and Dipper assured her daughter that he was happy. That was all Angel cared about.

There were times she enjoyed being a big sister, and times she didn’t. Stella and Estelle caused so much trouble and were the biggest handful anyone had ever seen. Ford once said before he died that the girls gave him and Stan a run for their money. It was like the girls had unknowingly accepted a challenge, and now were pure trouble-making terrors that kept Gravity Falls interesting thanks to their father’s curiosity and their mother’s attitude.

One night, when Angel was ten, she left her room for a glass of water or milk, something to satisfy her thirst, and she tiptoed across the dark house with a smile, the glow of the moon creating squares on the floor through the windows, perfect for quiet hopscotch. Angel stopped at the fireplace that showcased so many old photos. There was the picture of Mommy and Grandma Susan in the diner, waitresses together, and pictures of weddings, fishing trips, holidays, and just hanging out with Aunt Mabel and Uncle Gideon and Uncle Soos and Jacob. One picture Angel carefully picked up and smiled at.

She was only a baby in this picture, maybe a few weeks old, and Grunkle Ford was holding her as he sat in an armchair (she had seen that same chair at the Mystery Shack), with Grunkle Stan leaning against the seat, ruffling his brother’s hair and smiling at the baby. Angel became a little sad; she didn’t remember Grunkle Stan as well as she remembered Grunkle Ford, but she loved them both and missed them. She took the framed photograph with her into the kitchen and looked at it as she drank her water at the table, remembering all she could.

Angel could remember the sound of Grunkle Ford’s voice. It was low and heavy, but soft and comforting, like a weighted blanket. He used that voice to read her stories, using a different voice or accent for each character and even doing the sound effects, whether Angel asked him to or not. She could also remember him and Aunt Mabel knitting and showing Angel how to do it. She didn’t have the patience to learn, but she liked watching the yarn magically turn into clothing and listening to the two swap stories.

Angel can remember Grunkle Ford’s shadow puppets. He was the best at it, and sometimes he would shine a light against a wall, build a mini pillow fort for Angel to rest on, and make pictures on the wall with his special hands. Susie had a vague memory of once saying she wishes she had six fingers so she was more like Grunkle Ford. And he may or may not have started to cry, though Angel to this day had no idea why.

As for Grunkle Stan she mostly only remembered him through Grunkle Ford; Angel was only three when Grunkle Stan died, and all she could remember independently was a very distinct laugh and his smile, but she could remember everything Grunkle Ford said about him and the stories he told. Everyone always said how great Grunkle Stan was, despite being a conman. Angel grinned at the idea of having such amazing relatives, both old men cunning and crafty and willing to do anything for their families. She really missed them.

Angel sighed and left her empty glass alone to put the picture back on the fireplace. As she passed the TV, a video tape fell out of a box below the screen, though she could have sworn she had never touched it. Angel grinned at that; she had a feeling something funny had happened before, but she told herself grief was imagining something that wasn’t there.

She picked up the tape and grinned to find a familiar cursive handwriting on some tape on the top of the black box. Angel quickly slid it into the very old machine and turned on the TV quietly, then sat on the carpeted floor before the glowing screen. What she saw made her jubilant and she had to bite her lip to keep from squealing.

Thirty minutes later she hurried to her sisters’ bedroom and shook them away, climbing on the ladder of the bunk-bed to reach Estelle and kicking Stella awake. “Girls! Get up!”

“What?” Estelle snorted, rubbing her eyes.

“Why?” Stella groaned, burying her head under her pillow.

“There’s something you gotta see, now c’mon!” Angel urged and eventually pulled the twins by their wrists out of bed and practically dragged them out of the room.

Stella and Estelle were a bit less pissed when they saw the TV was on and all Angel wanted was for them to watch something, so they settled on the couch with their sister and Angel re-winded it to a certain point. The twins gasped to find an uncle they didn’t remember on screen.

“My name’s Stanley Pines.” He said seriously, in his beanie, boxers, slippers, and stained undershirt, sitting in his famous armchair. “I was sixty-seven when I made this tape, but now… I’m dead.” He said in a low voice with a strained face and wide eyes, then wiggled his fingers and asked with laughter in his throat, “Trapped in a box underground! Pretty spooky, huh? Haha!”

There it was! That laugh Angel could so distinctly remember. She grinned at hearing that laugh again and glanced down at her sisters, both wide-eyed with wonder.

A sharp voice that was slightly more recognizable interrupted Grunkle Stan’s laugh. “Stanley!” Grunkle Ford scolded behind the camera, while Grunkle Stan rolled his eyes. “Stan, this is for future Pines generations, the children Dipper and Mabel will have that we might not get to meet, their grandchildren! Surely you have a message you want to leave them.”

“Alright alright, I do.” Grunkle Stan said and smiled at the camera as he pointed at his audience. “Remember to work hard and that family always comes first. Also,” Now Grunkle Stan grew slightly more serious again. “I have several pounds of gold and millions in unmarked bills in a safe buried under the Shack, next to the…” His face suddenly dropped, and then their grunkle went on to over-exaggerate, putting a hand to his chest to fake a heart attack, then proceeded to limp over his chair with his tongue sticking out, making dying noises.

As the twins were laughing loudly and probably waking up their parents and Angel tried to shush them but was giggling nonetheless, the camera spun around and Grunkle Ford appeared on screen. “I’m sorry, kids, but this is what I have to work with.” Then he raised an eyebrow annoyingly as Grunkle Stan continued to make dying noises.

Angel paused the TV as the girls tried to silence their laughter, but despite Stella biting her shirt and Estelle holding her breath until she was blue, all three couldn’t help but laugh, not only from the comedic scene recorded for them, but the overwhelming joy they had from seeing their grunkles. Not only seeing their grunkles, but via a message they had created just for them.

Stella wiped a teary eye and asked, “Is that it?”

Angel shook her head. “No, there’s thirty minutes of Grunkle Ford just talking to us and showing us their favorite things, even the Stan O’ War. That was just my favorite part.”

“Forget sleep!” Stella said and ran off for the kitchen. “Start the movie over! I’ll make popcorn!”

“I’ll get the drinks!” Estelle volunteered and followed her twin to the kitchen.

Angel smiled, loving the idea of seeing her family again, and alone in the room, she could feel a presence she couldn’t quite explain, but she looked at the old men in the photograph above the fireplace and whispered, “Thanks, guys. I miss you.”

Meanwhile, invisible to the Earth they dwelled on, Stan stood by his niece with his brother by his side. Proudly grinning, he clamped a hand over Ford’s shoulder and said, “They love us!”

Ford smiled and chuckled, his eyes still on his little angel, who looked at the picture hungrily. With any luck, she won’t miss them for much longer.

[forevercaroline]

For @iamcarito, @misssophiachase, @karinanic, @missmystic-vampirebarbie, @crazychicke, @infernal-panda, @austennerdita2533, @vampsandchill

Forbes chapter 3

Everyone is settled in the living room of the sorority house, they are in their pajamas, there’s popcorn, candy, chips, fruits, granola bars, there’s something for everyone. Before the movie Melissa stands in front of the fireplace which the tv is mounted above. “Instead of Aspen we will be going to Palm Springs or Montecito for our retreat.”

There are murmurs through out the girls while the movie is going through the opening credits. Lexi leans forward to address the girls in front of the couch she, Erica and Lydia are sitting on. Malia, Allison and Kira are sitting on the other couch. “Since it’s my generosity lending one of the Forbes homes to this retreat I don’t think anyone should be murmuring about anything. Now I can take my generosity back and we can all stay in a hotel and not even a Forbes hotel. Now which would you rather stay in a mansion with a movie theater, and a private pool or a four star hotel with a public pool. I know which one I would prefer but I’m not the one murmuring about location change.”

She sits back and Erica snickers at the girls while Lydia’s phone vibrates alerting her she has a text and it’s from Parrish asking if she is going to come over tonight.

Xxx

“There’s paparazzi camped out at the gate asking us about the Salvatore’s.”

Her father is in his office at the hotel he has Lexi on speaker phone as he goes through papers. While Lexi is in her room trying on the new outfit she got for her date tonight with Isaac. “Do they realize the Forbes live in California and the Salvatore’s live in New York City. We’re family but we don’t talk every day.”

Lexi looks at herself in her mirror, she looks like she is going to a business meeting for the hotel not a dinner and movie date with a cute guy. She turns around quickly and lets out a little yell.

“What’s wrong?” Her fathers voice showing all concern he picks up the phone and is ready to leave at a moments notice of Lexi is in danger.

She closes her eyes and puts a hand over her chest as she answers her father. “I thought I saw someone it’s nothing it’s probably the light playing tricks or a member of the staff.” As she is taking off the outfit and throwing it on a chair in her closet someone moves in her bedroom.

When her mother died the paparazzi hounded them just wanting to take pictures of them grieving. They had a private viewing at the estate and one photographer jumped over the gate and came in the house to get a picture of their grieving. Ever since then Lexi is a little jumpy when paparazzi are at their gate, she knows they are a way of life well her life anyway but she doesn’t have to like that part.

“Should we bring up the topic of private security again?”

“Dad I’ve told you I don’t need a bodyguard, the bodyguard would be bored by my life the estate, school, one of our other homes and shopping, and sometimes a nightclub.”

As Lexi is looking in her closet for another outfit her dad tells her. “Who could be bored by your life your a Forbes.”

The blonde picks out a pair of jeans, black tank top and grey sweater with black ankle boots as she is coming out of her closet she is spooked by someone entering her room she lets out another little yell, it’s only the chef coming to finalize the menu for the date. As she leave Lexi puts her phone to her ear and tells her father. “Ok on the private security but I don’t need a bodyguard.”

Xxx

As everything is being prepared in the pool house Isaac is let into the main house. Lexi meets him at the front door. “We’ll be dinning in the back in the pool house.”

They go out into the backyard and Isaac has never seen such opulence everything is so fancy from the perfectly manicured bushes, to the statues, and the outdoor pool the little bit of the main house he saw.

When they enter someone from the staff asks Isaac for his coat. At first he is still stunned by the luxury of this estate and the Normalcy of the pool house it looks just like a dining room. With the circular bar off to the side opposite of the curved couch in the nook underneath the window the couch is decked out in red white and blue pillows. In the middle of the room there is a tan medium size table with matching tan changed.

Noises are coming from the kitchen across the hall from the changing rooms. Isaac is looking around taking everything in, not really carrying on a conversation with Lexi. She sighs all this effort and she is forgotten for the glamour of the house and he only saw a tiny bit of the main house then some of the greenery. She sits down on the couch in the corner and pulls out her phone she first texts Erica then Aiden, Ethan has been with Jackson and Danny all day.

“This is all part of your home?”

“Yes if your impressed by this floor wait until we go upstairs to the watch the movie or if you want we can go downstairs for a swim although I don’t think you brought a swimsuit.”

He looks back at her. “You don’t have extra swimsuits?”

She puts her phone down and looks at him. “This is a home not a mall.”

Their food comes out, Lexi decided to just have a easy menu chicken and salad. Through out the whole meal Lexi is just picking at her meal her head leaning against her hand while Isaac drones on about how magnificent this estate is. Lexi knows her home is beautiful but hearing someone talk about nothing else but how beautiful her home is not entertaining. She thought Isaac was different but just because he has a accent doesn’t mean he’s any different then the other guys she goes on dates with always blown away and forgotten when they see the luxury of her life. At least she knows being this far away from the gate she knows there is no way of paparazzi getting to the pool house. They really should hand out maps of the estate to guests. She smiles at that thought it would be funny if they actually did that.

“Want to go watch the movie?”

He nods and they go up the spiral staircase and through the double doors into the home theater. Lexi sits down in one of the corners of the long curved custom made red couch one of the many seating in the room. Issac sits in the middle and they watch a movie.

After the movie ended and Lexi walked him back to his car. He kissed her on the cheek. “We should do this again sometime.”

“Maybe.”

He leaves and she bee lines for the guest house hoping at least one twin is there. When she lets herself in she is in luck both twins are there. She falls onto the couch and her feet are in Ethan’s lap.“Isaac Lahey hot, but that was a terrible date. He spent the whole time going on about how lovely the estate was. I know how lovely it is I live here.”

Aiden lifts her head so he can sit underneath her head. “Aww hon we’re sorry you had a terrible date.”

“After spending the whole day with Danny and Jackson I still can’t decide I like them both.”

“Are they coming with us to Paris tomorrow?”

“No I told them would be out of the country for a couple days.”

Lexi smiles up at both of her best friends, she can not imagine her life without Ethan or Aiden. Not only are they her best friends they are like her brothers. “Are you guys ready for full fashion emersion with both Forbes and Salvatore families coming together.”

Ethan and Aiden have went on vacations with the Forbes family but they haven’t met the other members of the family IE: their cousins the Salvatore’s. They have read all about them in the magazines and heard about them from Lexi.

Xxx

When Peter comes home that night Genevieve the head of the staff at the estate comes up to him. “Mr. Forbes there was an issue while you were gone.”

Click on the link for the rest of the chapter.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13726612/3/Forbes

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27185111/chapters/78081137