#ivy I swear I’m going to read hell was full and give it back to you

[gilverrwrites]

Nothin' Good Starts in a Getaway Van

AN: Flash from the past, literally. I wrote the first draft of this in 2016, and have only recently rediscovered and finished it. If I was writing this from scratch today, I probably wouldn't characterise him like this. I was a different person back then, and it shows, but I’m still down bad for this dirty mf.

Pairing: Captain Boomerang/F!Reader

Rating: 18+

Words: 3.6K

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Content: Swearing, crime, petnames, violence, blood, implied size difference, mysophilia, dubious content, manipulation, biting, hair pulling, vaginal fingering, oral (m receiving), teabagging, rimming (m receiving), name calling, verbal humiliation, dirty talk, tickling, (very brief) public nudity, (very brief) choking, restraining.

Mentions of feces but no actual feces. Reader is a girly-girl who uses the criminal alias Red Rosie, but it’s only mentioned like 1.5 times.

Please remember: Kindness is free, so be kind to yourself 💙

🡡 Please read the content section before proceeding 🡡

You quietly hum to the beat of the van’s radio, bobbing your head and tapping your fingers against the wheel as you wait for your crew. Eyes on the clock, they were nearly a whole minute overdue, and worry was starting to seep in. Trying not to panic, you force yourself to keep humming along with the music.

The song comes to an end, and the radio hosts start chatting about something or other, probably the weather; you don’t care. Two minutes and forty seconds late, still nothing. Rolling down the window, you stick your head out, peeking back at the jewellery store, searching for signs of life. No alarm buzzing, no lights, no curious on-lookers or police cars. All signs said things were going well, but you couldn’t shake the worried feeling setting into your chest.

Leaning back into the seat, you take a few deep breaths and continue waiting. God, you hate waiting. Just your luck that you’d pull the short straw and get stuck on getaway driving duties. What you would give to be in that store, ransacking shiny jewels and expensive trinkets right now. No, actually,  you’d be in the back of the van, halfway out of the city by now. You might be a daydreamer, and a dawdler, but years of committing crimes in Gotham, henchman-ing for bosses like Two-Face and Penguin had taught you that when you only have a limited time to get stuff done, you get it done on time. Hell, early if you can swing it.

There were no alarm bells going off, no police cars, you reminded yourself, things are going just fine.

Three minutes, thirty-two seconds. Where were th- SLAM

You swing your head around, looking into the back of the van. The new guy, with three full bags of loot, swung over his shoulder, climbed in and slammed the doors behind him. He’s big, not the biggest guy in town, but still, big. You can see the curves of his muscular figure even through his leather duster. New to Gotham anyway. “Captain” Boomerang. He’d already robbed anything worth having in Australia, then Central, now here. Gold star for being the first one back, at least.

“Drive Hon, let's get movin’.” His thick accent was intensified by the shouting. He’s loud, and bossy too. Calls himself a captain, and clearly thinks himself as one too. You’d already caught him shouting orders at the rest of your gang when you’d been plotting this heist. He dropped his bags before climbing into the passenger seat.

“What about everyone else?” You shout back at him. In the past, you would have easily slunk back and let him take charge, not just of the job either, not now. You were a strong woman, you had to be in this line of work. Besides, this was your turf, and that was your gang.

Okay, maybe you shared it with a handful of other Gothamites, but not this fucker. This guy was gonna have to learn that you can’t just walk into this city and act like you own the place. If anything, you’d be doing him a favour. Better you than someone like Ivy or the Joker, or, god forbid, the Bat himself. “Where’s Wyvern? Where’s Pye?”

“They ain't comin’, now put ya foot down before the boys in blue get here.” He demands.

“I ‘ain't��� leaving without P-” Suddenly, a deadweight lands on your foot. You look down to see Boomerang's taped-up boot stomping down on you, forcing the van forward. Panicked, you start steering. The last thing you need is a car crash with multiple millions of dollars worth of stolen goods in the back. “Alright, alright, we’re moving! Get your fat foot off me!”

He doesn’t move at first, not until you’re at the end of the road. You swivel the van around the corner, heading for the bridge, the same route you’d originally planned. One quick glance down at your foot proves you’ll have a nasty bruise there. Briefly, you wonder if you should wear more sensible shoes. Nah. Why do that when you could be wearing perfectly adorable tieks?

“What happened?” You press, glaring over at him for a second before whipping out your phone. “Where is everyone?”

“Ya know, it’s an offence to text and drive.” You fire back nonchalantly, a chuckle lacing his lips. It's enticing, you’ll admit.

“So’s not wearing a seat belt.” You respond. Eyes half on the road, half on your screen.

[To: Pye] [From: RR]

[Where r u??? Left w/ boomerbutt, respond asap xxxxx]

“Guess we’re a couple of wildcards then, aye babe?” He winks at you.

“Don’t call me that. It’s Red Rosie, and don’t try to distract me,” you deadpan. What happened back there? You were nearly four minutes late and alone.”

“What should I call you then?” He asks as if you hadn’t literally just answered that question. Withholding from grinding your teether together, you tried not to shout.

“Red Rosie.”

“Ya know, roses ain't the only things with long stems.” He’s shamelessly amused by his own bad joke, but you feel your cheeks heating up nonetheless. There's just something about his unwavering confidence. You’d never really heard a serious sexual innuendo from anyone.

“Awh, have I rendered you speechless?” He muses as he reaches a knuckle over to stroke your warming cheek. His fingers smell like leather and malt. Unpleasant but Intoxicating.

You open your mouth and stomp your teeth around his finger, not hard enough to take it off, although you could if you wanted, but enough to break the skin, to make him bleed a little. Digger rips his hand away, your teeth grazing the skin more as he pulls it from your lips. You hope it’ll scab. He grips your hair and gives it a good tug in a display of petty revenge. When he’s done, he cradles his wounded finger, puffing out his bottom lip in an obviously fake pout.

“Now that wasn’t very nice pet.” He continues to feign hurt as he presses the finger to his chest. “An to think, I was gonna go 50/50 with ya on this lot.”

“Ha.” You laugh bitterly, sarcastically, blowing a misplaced strand of hair out of your face before continuing. “You should be so lucky. This raid was mine and Pye’s. You were a last-minute addition.”

“Hey now, girly. I did all the work while you just sat pretty in the car.” He barks. “If anythin’ I should be making off with at least 70%, if not more.”

“You’re kidding?” You scoff as you come to the end of the last bridge. Your phone vibrates in your lap, and you pause the conversation to read and respond to the message. “You might have loaded up, but you lost all my guys.”

“Yeah, and? The less there of them, the more reward to m- us.” He states it factually as if it were the simplest thing in the world, but you caught that slip-up. “I say we call it 65/35. Play your cards right, and I might even give ya a 5% tip.”

You briefly close your eyes, calming your temper, and thinking of a plan. Eyeing the road in front of you, you make a diversion, heading towards the farmlands, to emptiness.

“You know what, my fine friend?” You flatter, using your best, innocent smile and batting your lashes at him.

“What?” He questions, biting his lip and eyeing you suspiciously through his thick eyebrows.

“You’re right. I’m being difficult. You’re clearly smarter than I’ve been giving you credit for.” You speak concisely and confidently. Swallowing your pride seems to come easier than you’d expected. “Please do tell. What exactly can I do to get that 5%?”

“I knew you’d come around, pet. Smart girl.” You could feel the smugness spread throughout him. You didn’t need to look at him to know he had a shit-eating grin on his face. A strong hand lands on your inner thigh, and you peek over at him, waiting to see what he does next.

“Firstly;” He leans closer, his mouth ghosting across your cheek. His breath smells even more like beer than his skin did, and something else, something sour, like he hadn’t brushed his teeth in days. “Pull over.”

He points to the side of the dirt road, and you obey, keeping your eyes on the window until you’re fully parked. With the engine turned off, you turn to face him, ignoring the stench of his breath. You look up at him with your best doe eyes. “Secondly?”

A hand returns to your hair, jerking your head back. Before you can react, his lips are on yours, his tongue is in your mouth, exploring every inch. Holding back a gag, you open your mouth wider, allowing him access, occasionally flicking your tongue against his. You reach for the lapels of his jacket, pulling him closer, urging him on. You nibble at his tongue, his brows crease in response, but if he dislikes it, he doesn’t make it known. Instead, he pushes his mouth deeper onto yours, you can feel his teeth against yours, even through skin. You’ll both be bruised come tomorrow.

His tongue seems endless, it's almost as big as your mouth, and you can practically feel its tip grazing against your uvula. Briefly, you wonder how good it would feel between your legs. His fat tongue lapping between your lips, against your slit, inside your cunt. No, you stop yourself. Just play along.

You spread your legs apart, shifting out of your seat and climbing over until you're sitting on his thigh. Within seconds his callused hands are between your thighs, skipping your panties, runs his thumb roughly over your clit, and pushes one finger straight into your entrance. You’re impressed by the speed at which he located everything. He pumps until you moan into his mouth. Clearly satisfied with your reaction, he smiles into the kiss before pulling back, both his lips and his fingers.

Hand still fixed in your hair, he yanks you to the side, guiding you toward the back of the van. You take the instruction, climbing over the seats when he releases his grip on you, moaning when he slaps your ass as he follows. “Secondly, get on ya knees.”

 Keeping your composure, you do just that. “Sure thing, Captain.”

“Ohh, I like that.” He groans as he begins working on his belt. “We’ll have more of that.”

“Okay, Captain.” You wink before reaching up, batting his hand away, and undoing his belt and jeans yourself. You’d half expected him to be going commando, he seemed like the type, but you were wrong. Instead, you were greeted by a pair of off-white tighty whities, the band garnished with blue boomerangs. You pulled them down, grinning when Digger's gloriously fat dick sprang free. You had not been expecting that, and you physically couldn’t stop yourself from licking your lips and staring up at him with excitement.

“Like what you see, babe?” He grinned back at you, the tip of his tongue poking out between his crooked teeth.

“I-ye…” You’re at a loss for words, so you nod instead before leaning forward and taking as much of it into your mouth as you could easily fit. The angle was funny, what with the way it curved up, but you pressed on, pushing as far as you could before retreating, then back down, and up, and down, taking more with each motion.

Digger grunts approvingly above you, threading his fingers in your hair once more and pumping his hips forward. You worked in sync, you pushing further and further onto his cock, him pumping it deeper and deeper until your nose presses into the scruff of his pubic hair.

His grip on your hair tightens, holding you in place, allowing him to slip his cock in and out of your mouth, watching you take it, enjoying the tears that form in your eyes when the lack of air started to take effect. When he lessens his grip you jerk back, panting for only a second or two before going back for more. But he halts you, retightening his grip to prevent you from moving any closer.

Confused, you look up at him, he directs your head back down, and lifts his cock up vertically, exposing his balls. Knowing what he wants, you stick your tongue out, running it along the centre of his testes and up his cock, before dropping back down to cup one in your mouth and suck on it before releasing it and swapping to the other, taking breaths between alternations. They’re hairy, sweaty, and smell almost as bad as his breath, but you’re long past caring. Yes, there's an endgame here, but why shouldn’t you enjoy yourself along the way.

“Fuck, yeaahh. Like that.” Digger murmured in much the same way a greasy old man in a porno would. Again, you glide your tongue up and along his cock again before taking it all in one. Digger hold you down, shaking your head at the base of his cock, long enough to make your eyes feel heavy before letting go.

Once more, you only take a few seconds to catch your breath. This time, you don’t look to him for guidance. If he doesn’t like what you have planned, he’ll have to say something, you think as you crawl beneath his open legs and position yourself beneath his ass. You place your hands on his cheeks, spreading them before leaning up and gliding your tongue between the crack.

You can’t conceal that laugh that escapes you when he suddenly shouts “Bonza!” in response to your actions.

His hands shoot up and thread through his reddish locks as you continue swiping your tongue against his ass, when you locate his anus, you push harder until you’re licking at the inside walls of his asshole. You’d worried partly that his ass would be the worst part of him. Hairy, smelly, and shit-stained, but you were pleasantly surprised. He was hairy and smelly, but clearly, he’d given it a good wipe the last time he used the can.

“Fuck.” He breathed, fingers still gripping at his own hair.

“You like that?” You quiz, retracting to ask your question, lick at his balls again as you wait for his response.

“I do!” He exclaims, reaching down and urging you back into his ass. “Just thought I’d have to talk ya into it.”

“Guess you were wrong, Captain.” You reply playful, giving him a teasing lick but still not resuming.

“No kidding. It’s always the ones you least expect.” He responds, equal parts playful and self-righteous. “Look like a princess, fuck like a whore. Ain’t that right?” 

“Awh, you think I’m a princess?” You joke, trying to act like he’d really touched your heart with that one.

“I did. Know I know you’re just a whore. An’ a dirty one at that.” He can’t see your expression as you settle back below his ass. You make like you’re about to start rimming him again, but instead, you bite into his right ass cheek.

“Aye, none of that.” Reaching down, he delivers a hard smack to the back of your head. You ignore the throbbing it causes and dive straight back in, pushing as much of your tongue in as you can before wiggling it back and forth.

As you work, you hear the rustle of his coat above you as he searches his pockets, followed by the unzipping of his underjacket. Soon, both jackets make their way to the floor, leaving him in just his dirtied grey vest and gold chains.

You dart your tongue in and out a few more times before leaning forward and filling your mouth with his balls again, your hand reaching up to grip the base of his cock before pumping it. It only lasts a few moments before you feel his hand around your wrist. He could probably crush it if he squeezed hard enough, not that you wouldn’t make him pay for it.

You release your grip on him, and using your wrist as an anchor, he pulls you forward, hard, releasing midway and causing you to land on your back with a cry. Enthusiastically, you sit up, spreading your legs wide for whatever is to come next, only to look and be greeted with the last thing you’d expected. Big bad Captain Boomerang, standing at nearly 6’1, so tall he had to crouch within the confines of the van, a mess of hair, scars, and golden teeth, all long legs and built biceps, stood before you, clutching a pink unicorn.

For a second, you thought you were dreaming. Had someone left it in the van? Had he picked it up, presuming it was yours, and planned to mock you with it? You looked at him questioningly, waiting for an explanation.

“This is Pinky.” He informs. “He’s my lucky charm. Never get laid without him.”

“Right…” You nod slowly, waiting for him to go on.

“Mind if I keep him out? He likes to be a part of the action.” There was no hint of a joke in his tone.

“Uh, sure.” You shrugged. It could be weirder, after all. You scoot closer to him, reaching up to touch it, and he allows it, crouching to your level to give you easier access. “He’s adorable.”

“Ya like him, do ya?” He asks, watching you sceptically as you pet the pink toy. You smiled and nodded, and he continued, “Well… I think he likes you too.”

You giggle at the feel of its soft fur when Digger nuzzles the plush into your neck. He makes neighing noises as he begins to rub its softness up and down your body, tickling your skin. You grip at his arms to try and make him stop, but to no avail. He keeps on tracing the fluff against you. Any movement you made, any retaliation, he simply followed, even when you fall against the floor, breathless.

“Dig- DIGGER- No NO! STOP please!” You gasp, each attempt to push him away growing weaker. “Uncle, UNCLE!”

“That’s not my name, is it pet?” He responds as he straddles your knees, locking your legs open as he relentlessly continues his attack.

“CAPTAIN!” You’re practically screaming at him. “CAPTAIN PLEASE!”

“Well, since you asked so nicely…” He trails off, lifts his pink buddy away, then seems to change his mind, intentionally grazing it along your chest, down your stomach, The fabric of your dress blocks any real friction until suddenly you feel its softness at full force between your legs. “Nahh,”

“God, NO, STop.” You dart up, mustering all your upper body strength to push him away. With a wail, he tumbles back, balancing himself on the side of the van.

“You’ll regret that.” He mumbles as he pounces back at you. The only thing between you and a concussion caused by the hard metal floor is one of the sacks Digger had filled during the heist. Before you can fight back, his lips are on yours again, tongue already practically tickling your tonsils.

“Drryrratagd.” You mumble into his mouth.

He pulls away, eyeing you. “What?”

“I said: Does your ass taste good?”

He turns his head in an attempt to hide a grin, but you still see the curl of his lips. He runs his tongue along his teeth as he considers the question. You’ve stumped his smartass.

Eventually, he answers. “You’d know better, you’ve taste it firsthand.”

“True.” You agree.

“Well?” He pushes the question back on you, now you’re not sure how to answer. “Umm… It tastes like ass.”

Digger only nods half-heartedly before pressing back down on you. Legs either side of your waist, arms against your shoulders, he begins kissing, sucking, and nibbling at your neck.

“Harder.” You whimper, wiggling beneath him, purposely rubbing your thigh against his dick.

“What’s that? Speak up.” He murmurs against your throat.

“Bite me harder.” You cry, without hesitation, he bites down on your collarbone until you feel the skin break under his teeth, before relocating to the base of your neck to chomp down again and again and again. Not once bothering to lick at the wound when he was done. But then, you hadn’t done the same for him.

“Like that?” He asks, not looking up to see your reaction.

“Ummm, yes.” You whine.

“You really are a fuckin’ whore, aint ya?” He says as he rubs the tip of his nose along the centre of your neck.

“Yes.” You concede. “Probably more of a whore than you can handle.”

That was unnecessary, but damn, he was hot when he was pissed.

“We’ll see about that.” He says. No words he’s ever said to you had felt more like a threat than those. Without warning, his burly hands release your shoulders and grip the neckline of your dress. With one quick motion, he pulls the entire thing in half. “No bra -”

“Hey! That thing was expensive.” You chide, cutting him off. You sit up, meeting him face to face.

“Then maybe you shouldn’t wear it while ya working. God knows what would happen to it.” His tone is mocking. “Try dressin' more practical in future.”

“You do you Captain fucking Boomerang boxers.” You seethe. “I’ll do me.”  

“No.” He latches a hand around your jaw, roughly forcing you back down. “I think you’ll find, I’ll be doing you.”

He leans forward to add more pressure, but his actions are interrupted by the sound of the van doors opening. The outside light temporarily blinds you both. When you come too, you see Pye standing outside, weapon at the ready. You can’t see her expression beneath the mask, but her stance means business.

“What the fuck is this?” Digger asks, looking back and forth, confused.

“There's a tracker in the van, dumbass.” You explain, “I’ve just been keeping you busy.”  

[theshopislocal]

corinth rains

New and improved Heaven may well be the Happiest Place (not) on Earth. But Dean, it turns out, is still Dean.

(also on AO3)

chapter three

Charlie’s place is frickin’ awesome.

That said, Dean doesn’t understand most of her decor. There’s a surprisingly beautiful oil painting of what looks like the bushy-haired girl from Harry Potter standing over the corpse of a monster with a face made of teeth; Charlie called it the Demogorgon, which clarified precisely nothing. On another wall, there’s a giant framed poster of the little shruggie emoticon dude, which, on closer inspection, is itself made of other shruggie emoticon dudes. In the center of the foyer stands a life-size marble statue of Poison Ivy, flanked on either side by two huge suits of armor, armed with iron flails.

Then, of course, the crowning jewels: a wall-to-wall, floor-to-ceiling flatscreen TV and a tiny blue console that ostensibly contains every video game ever made. Charlie calls it the Deus ExBox.

“I swear to Jack,” Charlie mutters, fingers smashing against the controller buttons, “if you say ‘get over here’ one more time—”

Dean shrugs as much as he’s able while spamming the square button. “It’s the best move!”

“Yeah,” Charlie snorts, “and you cheese it.” She presses several buttons at once, and her character - a skinny brunette in a hilarious and mildly sexy bathing suit - kicks Dean’s guy about thirty damn times.

Dean makes a frenetic motion with the controller and goes full button mash. “You cheese Mileena! With your stupid tele-drop—”

“Hey,” Charlie starts, turning briefly to glare at Dean, “Mileena’s my main, ok—”

Dean uses the moment of distraction to pull the joystick hard to the left, tapping square one last time. His character - a rippling muscled dude in a skintight suit with a yellow loincloth - casts his spear at Mileena, yelling a guttural ‘Get over here!’

Mileena’s health bar drops to zero, and she sways back and forth. Dean gives Charlie a smirking side-eye.

She shakes her head and points a blunt-nailed finger at him. “Dean, don’t you dare. Dean.”

Dean gives her a winning smile and moves the joystick side to side, thumb hovering over the X button.

“Dean, don’t you dare toasty me—”

He taps the X, and Scorpion spits a pillar of flame at Mileena.

Fatality, the screen reads. Scorpion wins.

Charlie stares blankly for a moment, slack-jawed and dull-eyed, before cutting a glare at Dean. “I literally hate you.”

Dean’s mouth pulls into a wide grin, and he raises his hands in a shrug. “C’mon, who could hate this face.”

“What face?” Charlie grumbles. “All I see is a butt.”

Dean gives a bark of laughter, and his cheeks ache. He’s learned that Charlie is an appallingly poor sport, and her swearing tirades in the wake of a loss amuse him to no end.

She gives him a mild glare, betrayed by the play of a smile around her mouth, and reaches for her giant pint glass - ‘it’s a stein, you philistine’ - only to frown down at the flat dregs. She shifts as if to stand, then her face lights up, and she smiles over at Dean. “Hey, check this out,” she says, and the childlike excitement in her voice has Dean leaning forward. She raises the stein overhead and bellows, “Beer me!”

Her glass refills itself, bottom to top, an inch of fluffy white head settling over translucent gold. Dean’s brows rise, and his lips tick up. “See now, that I could get used to.”

Charlie gives him a self-congratulatory smile and passes the glass to Dean. He tips his head in thanks and takes a gulp, face scrunching up at the taste.

“Ugh, god,” he sputters, setting the glass down heavily on the low coffee table. “What is that?”

Charlie’s lips turn down in a dramatic pout. “Stella Artois.”

Ugh. What are they, at a bachelorette party in the Hamptons? “Aren’t you supposed to be a lesbian?”

Charlie gives him an unimpressed glare and hoists herself off the couch. “I’m a chapstick power alpha, thank you very much.”

Dean’s sure he knows what all those words mean individually, but- “Yeah, I got no idea what you’re talkin’ about.”

Charlie rolls her eyes and skips towards the kitchen, tapping the Yoda bobble head on the bookshelf as she passes it. There are several other action figures on the shelf, and a bunch of other tchotchkes, most of which he can barely make out in the dim fluorescent light. He glances over at the windows framing the dining table; he figures Charlie’s gotta have a great view, being situated so near the lake. But the curtains - done in a deep, velvety purple that looks like some sort of magic fur - are drawn, the afternoon light pooling just around the bottom.

Dean feels his brow wrinkle. “Hey,” he calls, “why are your curtains closed?”

“What?” comes Charlie’s muffled voice.

Dean rolls his eyes and waits until she comes around the corner with two dark bottles of IPA. “Why are your curtains closed?”

She raises her eyebrows at him, flopping herself onto the couch. “Cuz the sun’s out? Duh?”

Dean takes a bottle from her hand, twists off the cap. “You don’t like it?”

Charlie gives him a dry look. “Dude. I’m a pasty code-jockey otaku.”

This time, Dean isn’t sure he knows what any of those words mean. He squints at her, shaking his head.

She sighs. “Sunlight could kill me.”

Dean snorts a laugh. “Ah.” He vaguely remembers a case he’d worked solo while Sam was at university: a teenage boy had spawned a Tulpa while writing a (surprisingly good) web comic. Dean had interviewed him in his dorm room - all empty Mountain Dew bottles and half-eaten bowls of ramen. Kid looked like he hadn’t seen the sun in years.

Back then, Dean had told him to pull the comic from his site and go the hell outside. Now, Dean feels mild envy for him and Charlie both.

“I miss rain,” Dean says, and it feels like a confession.

Charlie turns toward him and tilts her head, expression curious and bemused.

Dean harrumphs and adjusts his seat. “I mean, I like the—” he gestures vaguely toward the window, “—the picnic weather, too, I just...” he trails off, noting Charlie’s scrunched frown, and shrugs. “I dunno. Sam says there’re storms, past the mountain.”

Charlie’s brow smoothes at that, and she perks up, grabbing her stein with both hands. “Probably. All kinds of weird stuff over there.” She takes a long swig and gives a tiny burp that has Dean huffing a laugh. “You seen the mini forest in the field?”

Dean sobers and shakes his head. “He said that’s where the storm was.”

“Oh,” Charlie murmurs. “Huh. Wasn’t last time I saw it.”

Dean raises an eyebrow. “You’ve been over the mountain?” He tries to picture her with a bindle in place of an iPhone and hiking boots in lieu of her Converse, but comes up short.

Charlie smirks at him and takes another gulp, licking the foam from her top lip. “I may have spent my first afternoon here flying around on a broomstick like Harry Potter.”

Dean tips his head back in a nod. He really should’ve guessed that. He brings his bottle to his mouth, taking a cautious sniff to make sure he’s not drinking any more of that wimpy shit, and gives Charlie a sidelong glance. “Did you catch the snitch?”

Charlie beams. “As a matter of fact, yes.”

Dean shakes his head and smiles. “Attagirl.” He takes a long drink, enough to clear the neck, and savors the bitter hoppy flavor on his tongue. It’s a damn sight better than the swill he’s had with Bobby. Or whatever the fuck Stella Artois is.

“It was on fire.”

Dean swallows and cuts a glance at Charlie. “What?”

“The forest,” she says, smoothing a finger over the lip of her glass. “I mean, not the whole thing, just a couple trees near this, like, barn thing? They were all charred.” She tilts her head, considering. “Coulda been lightning, I guess? I dunno.”

Dean feels a pit open up in his stomach, strange and unbidden. He sets his beer down on the table, butting it up against his controller. “You tell the Arch?”

Charlie shrugs. “Kevin said not to worry about it.”

Dean’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline, and he turns fully toward her. “You talked to Kevin?”

When he’d heard through the grapevine that Kevin had finally made it over, Dean had sent Jack a silent, thankful prayer. He’s thought about checking in on the kid, but word has it he’s top dog at the Library - the new and improved Scribe of Heaven. Dean figures that’s about as close to ‘advanced placement’ as the kid is likely to get, this side of the pearly gates.

“I stopped by the Library,” Charlie says, nonchalant. Then she gives Dean a mischievous grin, raising her glass to her mouth. “Wanted to see if they had Lady Death in Lingerie.”

Dean frowns. “Is that... Is that porn?”

Charlie smirks at him. “It’s a comic, but... yes, yes it is.”

Dean blinks hard and gives her an incredulous look. “You got Kevin out of the Library ... for cartoon porn?”

“Hey,” Charlie demurs, “you don’t get to say anything about cartoon porn, I’ve seen your browser history.” Dean rolls his eyes even as his face warms, but doesn’t offer a defense.

“And no,” she continues, eyes going shifty. “He let me in.”

Charlie’s posture is stiff, her eyes round with manufactured innocence. She was a shit liar when she was alive, and she’s an even shittier one dead.

Dean gives her a blatantly doubtful look. “He let you in.”

Charlie puffs her cheeks out and her eyes dart side to side. For a second, she looks like she might try to stick to her guns, but she blows out a sigh instead. “Okay,” she concedes. “Maybe ‘let’ isn’t the right word.”

Dean breathes out a mildly bewildered laugh, pressing his forehead to the bottle in his hands. “You broke into Heaven’s Library?”

Her tiny white hands rise in a shameless shrug. “You can take the girl out of the corporate espionage scheme...”

Dean shakes his head, smiling wry but wide, stomach aching with laughter. “Pretty hardcore,” he says, then faces forward. “For a nerd.” He takes another short sip, noting Charlie’s scowl in his peripheral vision.

“Well,” she huffs and grabs her stein, “you’re pretty ripped.” She lets that hang for a moment, until Dean looks over at her, brows raised. “For a handmaiden,” she smirks and takes a smug pull.

Dean rolls his eyes and nods around a dry smile. Charlie gives a tittering laugh that he can’t help but return, and he polishes off his beer, shoulder butted up against hers.

He stares down into the empty bottle, turning it between his thumb and middle finger. “So Kevin said it’s fine?” he asks. He keeps his tone mild so as not to betray his peculiar unease, but he can’t quite suppress the note of concern. “Tiny burnt forest with lightning and a creepy barn?”

She shrugs and chugs the last inch of her beer in a great swallow. “I guess?” she says, voice thick. “I don’t know.” She belches for a solid three seconds, and Dean turns his lips down, impressed. “Got the feeling it was kinda...” she tips her head side to side, “top secret? Maybe not, like, nuclear football level, but… something.”

Dean snorts and glares into the chasm inside his beer bottle. “What, you think Heaven’s got an Area 51?”

Charlie shrugs again, grabbing her controller to select a new fighter. “Stranger things, I guess.”

Dean nods absently and casts his eyes about the room. The shruggie guy is still shrugging, Yoda’s head still bobbing, Ivy’s white marble eyes staring sightlessly toward the door. Dean’s gaze settles on a painting he hadn’t noticed, tucked into the corner behind a threadbare recliner: an abstract composition of flowing indigo and teal, offset by swathes of pale yellow edged in pink, with a crooked pillar of white rising up the center. Dean’s not much of a one for fine art, but something tells him this is a masterpiece. Ageless and tragic and blue, it tugs at a rough-sawn edge in his chest. He thinks it might be a flower or a river. Or a cloud. Or maybe a bruise.

It looks familiar, like he’s seen it in a textbook or possibly a museum. Then again, in Dean’s very short - and very, very long - life, he figures he’s seen just about everything.

Abstraction Blue by Georgia O'Keeffe

chapter two | chapter four

table of contents

[searchingwardrobes]

Self-Promo Sunday: Poison Ivy

Summary: A ridiculous and silly little ficlet about what happens when an OTP who can’t keep their hands off each other come in contact with poison ivy.

I was inspired to write this after my husband got into some poison oak while doing yard work. Lucky for me, I'm not at all allergic to either poison oak or poison ivy. I could roll in the stuff and not be affected. So then I thought, what if our OTP wasn't so lucky? ;)

Words: about 1,500

Rating: T for references to workplace sex

On Ao3 until Sunday, December 8th, 2019

Tagging the usuals: @snowbellewells @kmomof4 @welllpthisishappening @let-it-raines @xhookswenchx @teamhook @bethacaciakay @whimsicallyenchantedrose @distant-rose @delirious-latenight-laughs@optomisticgirl @spartanguard @profdanglaisstuff @tiganasummertree​ @resident-of-storybrooke​ @thislassishooked​ @snidgetsafan​ @branlovestowrite​ @scientificapricot​ @stahlop​ @hollyethecurious​ @shireness-says​ @winterbaby89​ 

Sheriff Emma Swan made her arrival to the station so loudly known that it made Killian jump. And pirates are normally difficult to rattle. Emma stomped, kicked a chair, cursed loudly, and tossed her red leather jacket violently across the room.

"That woman," she fumed, pacing with her hands on her hips.

"I take it the weekly meeting with the mayor went well," Killian noted dryly as he sipped his coffee.

Emma rolled her eyes as she perched on the edge of Killian's desk with her arms crossed. "Do you know what she had the audacity to suggest?"

Killian raised both eyebrows. "Can't say that I do."

"She suggested that the two of us were using the station to . . . to . . . " Emma blushed uncharacteristically as she gestured vaguely with her hands. "Engage in . . . workplace sex." She turned absolutely crimson when she finally blurted it out, then got up and began pacing again. "She said we can't keep our hands off each other in public, so naturally she had to assume we’re making good use of our time alone here. Those were her exact words, Killian! Can you believe her?"

When Emma turned to her husband, she was irritated to find him smirking. One eyebrow was quirked, his chin was dipped, and his tongue slid scandalously across his bottom lip. "I'm afraid I can believe her, love. Or have you forgotten the way we used my desk just yesterday?" He then lounged back in his chair, drumming his fingers against the top of said desk.

Emma threw her head back and groaned in frustration. "That was just the one time -"

"And the time on your desk, and the time on the cot in the cell, and the time against the bars in the cell, and the time with the handcuffs -"

Emma cut him off with a hand to his lips. "You've made your point." Then she sighed, her hand still pressed to her husband's mouth. "But we're going to stop. As in right now. Got it?"

She could feel Killian's warm lips spread into a smile beneath her hand, and as she gazed into his eyes, she thought for about the hundredth time how expressive those blue eyes could be. She read them like a book in that moment - and they screamed that he didn't think she had the self control. Then he had the audacity to part his lips and swipe at her fingers with his tongue.

"Killian Jones!" she screeched as she yanked her hand away.

"Alright, Swan," he laughed merrily, "we will be nothing but business from now on."

***********************************************************************************

Emma's side ached and her calves protested as she ran full tilt through the woods. A month of peace in Storybrooke, and she had gone completely soft. This was what she got for making sex her main source of exercise (although Killian was rather good at giving her a thorough, full body workout). She jumped over a log and winced as the shock reverberated through her legs.

"Through that brush!" Killian shouted ahead of her as he veered to the left.

Emma almost immediately heard Tootles shout in protest as Killian shoved his way through a thick cluster of bushes. Since her husband seemed to have caught the miscreant, she took a moment to breathe, bending over her knees as she clutched her side. Killian made his way through the thick undergrowth, hauling a scowling teenager by the scruff of the neck.

"What is this?" the kid screeched, swinging at Killian without making any impact. He was short for fifteen, and rather soft around the middle with a head of curly red hair.

"You were vandalizing public property," Emma panted.

Tootles sagged in Killian's grip, his expression turning suddenly repentant. "I'm sorry. I swear I won't do it again."

Emma crossed her arms and scowled at the former lost boy. "You've said that before. Your foster parents said the next time we picked you up, to let you sweat it out in the holding cell."

"What!" Tootles eyes went wide with shock.

"You heard her," Killian muttered, shoving the boy forward, "now march."

*******************************************************************************************

Later, Emma would have to admit that she had no defense for what happened next. It wasn't as if one thing just led to another. Oh no. The whole way back to the station with Tootles, she had replayed in her mind how Killian had looked racing through the woods. The way the muscles of his backside clenched in those tight jeans of his. The way he didn't even get winded. How lithely he had sped over roots and fallen logs. So by the time they had returned to the station, called Tootles parents, and got the juvenile delinquent locked up, Emma was positively hot and bothered. Which was why she followed Killian into the filing room.

And why she had locked the door behind her.

She would never hear the sound of a slamming drawer the same way again.

**********************************************************************************************

The first sign of something being amiss was Tootles. His scratching was so loud, it was distracting Emma from her paperwork. Then the boy was whining that he itched, and could he PLEASE call his mother. Killian snapped at him to shut up.

But then Killian started itching, too. Emma thought nothing of it at first; he was always itching behind that damn ear. (Honestly, it was adorable.) It was also nothing new for him to itch at his scruff occasionally, or even his chest hair. But soon he was scratching so much it drew Emma's attention.

"Killian!" she cried out.

"Bloody hell," he muttered as he looked down at his good hand.

"I tried to tell you," Tootles whined from behind the bars. "Now can I call my mom?"

"No," Emma and Killian snapped simultaneously.

Emma looked sadly at the bright red rash covering Killian's hand. His clothing had protected most of his body, but the rash crept up his exposed chest, along his neck, and up around his ears. She could even see a red rash beneath the scruff on his chin and cheeks.

"Oh baby," she sighed in sympathy as she reached out to run her hand through his hair, but then she thought better of it, and gave his shoulder a squeeze instead.

"What is it?" Killian wasn't even looking at her as he asked, just staring in horror at his reddened hand as he scratched at his chest with the curve of his hook.

"Poison ivy," Emma explained. When she saw the look of horror on her husband's face, she rushed to explain, "but not really POISON, like dreamshade. It just gives people a really bad rash."

Emma bit her lip as she looked over her husband then at an equally red and splotchy Tootles. It was clear the plant wasn't something found in Neverland or the Enchanted Forest.

"And you didn't think to warn me before I went barreling through it?" Emma winced at Killian's words, but as she watched him scratching his neck carefully with the pointed end of his hook, she knew he was simply cranky and miserable with the itching.

"I'm sorry, babe. I've lived most of my life as an urbanite. I can never remember what the stuff looks like. The saying is . . . what? Leaves of three let it be? I don't even know. And does that mean three points on one leaf or three leaves on the stem?"

"Well it doesn't bloody matter now," Killian muttered, rubbing his affected hand up and down his jeans. "What am I supposed to do?"

Emma sighed and grabbed the keys to the bug. "I'll go get some Calamine lotion."

*****************************************************************************************************

Dark Star Pharmacy was completely empty, so Emma asked Sneezy to tell her all that he knew about poison ivy. The dwarf was thrilled to be asked for his professional assistance, and told her more than she ever wanted to know as he rung up the Calamine lotion.

"And make sure he washes his hands - er, hand," Sneezy continued as he handed her the bag, "if he touches anyone with that ivy sap still on his hands, or other parts of his body, it will spread the rash."

Emma froze as she took the bag, the color draining from her face.

"Damn it."

*****************************************************************************************************

Regina Mills stood smirking in front of a very sheepish (and very red, very blotchy, and very pink) Sheriff and Deputy of Storybrooke.

"You know, I would have expected this from the pirate. But you, Sheriff?" Regina's mouth twitched as she looked at Emma, barely containing her smile. "I would have expected more self-control from you."

"Shove it, Regina," Emma muttered as she squirmed in her seat, rubbing her jean-clad rear end against the hard leather of the booth at Granny's.

Unfortunately, there were some places you just couldn't scratch in public.

[seouledbysisi]

Something New

chapter thirteen

Jaehyun

He grabbed his keyboard and began to play the chords to a Boyz II Men song. He loved their music and at the moment his mind was completely and exhausted my focused on Sasha. He just couldn’t shake that maybe things wouldn’t work. He was all in still but he knew distance was hard and it was even harder when you’re on different time scales. It was an entire different day for him. It was hard to find time to communicate because of the time difference and even when he’d get the urge to call her, because he missed the hell out of her, and it was way too early she wouldn’t fuss. What had he done to deserve someone as perfect as her? He just prayed, to the only God he had faith in would listen, and not allow this distance to tear them apart.

He began to sing the words to “End of the Road”. The song defined exactly how he felt about his Sasha. He had never felt that way about any woman but somehow singing helped him cope with the fact that he was lonely without her.

His mom knocked on his room door. “I know you’re busy, but I just wanted to check in on you.” She sighed with a slight smile.

His fingers continued to hit the keys on the keyboard. He stared at her for a moment and then let his gaze drift beyond her, never saying a word.

“Jeffrey, please talk to me.” She said softly, her heart was breaking for her son. This move was tough on him. Although she knew that he really liked Sasha somehow she didn’t notice just how much. Her baby was in love and every move he made proved it.

He exhaled loudly as he cut his playing. “What do you want me to say?”

“How you feel.” She smiled as she took a seat on his bed.

He shrugged. He wanted to express how he felt but then he’d feel terrible for not being understanding enough of his mother’s feelings too. “It’s not worth the battle.” He voiced under his breath.

She placed her hand on his shoulder gently. “I know you resent us leaving, I think you’ll feel better if you talk about it though.”

“I feel selfish though. I wanted to stay for my own personal reasons. I hate that we had to leave. I hate that you married a man that you knew beforehand was terrible. I hate that you allowed yourself to be in that situation. I hate that y’all sent me away simply for having feelings about my father being the douche that he will always be. My life is a train wreck, all of our lives are but the one thing that wasn’t screwed up is Sasha and look at that now.” His eyes welled with tears.

He hated that he was so emotional. He began playing again.

“Stop it! Just stop, Jeffrey!” His mom began to break as well. “I’m sorry that your life hasn’t been the best for you. I’m trying to make it up for you now. I don’t want you to continue in turmoil baby. I haven’t made this easy for you, nor had your father and I’m sorry for all the mistakes we made in raising all of you but all I can do is be better now.”

He laid his head on his mother and completely allowed himself to drown in his emotions. Maybe that’s what he had needed because he felt a bit lighter. His heart wasn’t as heavy. His mind wasn’t as stressed.

“Mom, I just want to see her but I know I can’t. Prom is this weekend and I hate myself for missing it, and I fear she won’t go without me. She shouldn’t have to miss prom because of me.”

His mom rubbed his shoulders and allowed him his moment to be vulnerable. That was a side that he didn’t show often at all.

Ivy & Sasha

“Close your eyes!” Ivy fussed at Sasha as she attempted to do her eye makeup, Ivy was a makeup queen.

Sasha sighed. “I don’t even know why I’m even going.” She complained.

Ivy popped her hand as she reached for one of her curls. “You are not ruining my masterpiece. Sit still and be patient.”

Sasha rolled her eyes and then her phone pinged.

Jaehyun.

She smiled and opened the text. It was a video of him sitting in front of a keyboard.

Ivy raised an eyebrow. “He can play the piano?”

Sasha shrugged. “I sure hope so since he’s sitting in front of one. Ive never heard him play.”

Ivy read the message under the video out loud. I hate that I have to miss your beauty on this special night, please forgive me for being the worst boyfriend ever. I hope this makes up for it somehow.

Sasha held her heart as she clicked on the video and listened to the words of the song. It touched her in so many different ways. Tears welled up in her eyes. She stared at the video. He looked beautiful but she could see in his eyes that he was sad. In a strange way it gave her comfort that maybe he was having it just as hard as she was.

“Let’s get dressed, Sasha.” She told her softly. She had watched her replay the video at least four times already and she understood that her friend needed this moment but time was winding down and Johnny would be arriving to pick them up in an hour.

Sasha sighed and stared into blank space. “Can’t I just stay here and watch this video all night?”

“No, that’s not healthy. You need to be at your last ever prom with all of us!”

Sasha stood and tossed her phone to the side. “I never told you but Taeyong asked me to be his date..”

Ivy swung around and stared at her with furious eyes. “Why does he continue to bother you? He knows you’re in a relationship so now that Jae isn’t physically here he thinks it’s okay to disrespect him?”

Sasha shrugged. “It’s Taeyong. What can you expect? He sent it through a text anyway so I didn’t really take it seriously.”

Ivy rolled her eyes. “He irritates my soul!”

They began to get dressed. Sasha stared at the dress on Ivy. She looked gorgeous. Better than she ever would, but she always looked better so that wasn’t a surprise. She just didn’t compare to Ivy and at this point she wasn’t even trying. God gave everyone special attributes and beauty was definitely Ivy’s strong point.

Ivy

Sasha

Johnny

Johnny walked up Sasha’s driveway so he could formally pick his dates up. He rung the doorbell and waited for an answer.

Sasha’s mom opened the door and immediately pulled him into a hug. It seemed everyone loved Johnny. “I haven’t seen you in forever, you look taller.” She stared at him for a moment in shock.

“I’m pretty sure I’m still 6’ ft even.” He chuckled and hugged her back.

She shook her head. “The nurse in me says that’s gotta be a lie.”

The girls stepped into the hallway. Sasha stepped out onto the porch first. She wanted to save his real prize for last.

“You look beautiful, Sasha. I’m glad Jaehyun gave me the honor of courting you tonight.” He smiled and pulled her into a side hug.

She gave him a small smile. “Wait till you see the real showstopper.”

A few moments later Ivy’s heels clicked down the hallway to the front door.

Johnny’s eyes nearly bulged out. “You look breathtaking.” He whispered.

She began to blush a bit. “I try.”

He kissed her forehead. “I feel like the big man on campus with two beautiful dates!” He popped the collar on his suit jacket.

He grabbed both of their hands and lead them to his truck.

Brianne

Brianne stared at herself in the living full length mirror. She never imagined that she would look this beautiful on a night like this.

She couldn’t help but feel a slight sting to her heart as she thought about the fact that her mom would miss this chance to see her on a special night like this. Her mother had left two years ago and she hadn’t heard from her since. Her father tried to convince her that she only left because of their problems as husband and wife but if that have been the case why did her mother never contact her anymore? She left both of them for whatever reason and she had come to terms with it. She had no other choice but to.

Her father’s rejection appeared in the mirror behind her. “You look beautiful, Eskimo.” He had called her that since she was a young girl because she always complained about being cold. “Stop looking sad, this is a special night for you.”

She raised an eyebrow. “What makes you think that I’m sad?”

Her father was a psychologist so he had discernment when it came to things of this nature. She couldn’t hide her emotions from him no matter how hard she tried. “I’ve seen that look all too many times. Look, she made her decision to leave so it’s her loss. Don’t let it ruin your night.” He kissed her cheek with a small smile.

The doorbell rang.

She took a deep breath. “I guess it’s about that time.” She smoothed her gown down.

Her father opened the door and gave Taeil a stern look.

Taeil was scared as ever. His fingers were tingling. “I’m Taeil, nice to meet-“

“I know exactly who you are! You will treat her with utmost respect for the entire night, understand?” He cut him off mid-sentence.

Taeil nodded. “Yessir! I always treat her with respect, she deserves the best. I’m nowhere near perfect but I try to give my all for her.”

Her father shook his head, “you won’t try! You will do!”

Taeil didn’t bother to say a word. It wouldn’t have mattered. He simply nodded.

Brianne eyed her father’s tough guy act. It was almost funny because he was the softest guy she’d ever known, he just needed to prove a point. He wouldn’t hurt a fly honestly.

“And keep your dick in your pants! I’ve been a teen before so I know what teenage boys want on prom night! You’re not getting it from my daughter.” He eyes Taeil.

Taeil’s eyes widened. “Yessir! I swear it wasn’t on my mind.” He was being honest.

Her father simply stared at him. “Have fun, babygirl.” He kissed her forehead and watched them leave arm in arm. He wasn’t a mean guy but he had to show Taeil who the boss still was. This was his only daughter.

Prom

They had been at the prom for a little over an hour. The DJ actually was decent and everyone seemed to be having the time of their lives.

Sasha danced with Johnny and Ivy and everything seemed pretty right. The only thing which would make it better was Jaehyun being there. Honestly it wasn’t just Sasha who was missing out. This was meant to be his senior prom as well. Sure he went to a new school now and he could go to there’s but it wouldn’t be the same.

A slow song came on and Taeil grabbed Brianne’s hand and pulled her close to him as he swayed her to the music. “You look amazing tonight. I’m glad you gave me the honor of coming with me.”

He was maybe only a couple of inches taller than her but with her heels she stood a bit over him. “I’m just glad you’re with me. You’re my first real boyfriend and it sucks that this didn’t happen till now but I guess we better make the best out of it.” She didn’t know what the future held for them so she was soaking up every good moment with him while she could.

Sasha stepped back. “I’m going to let y’all have this moment.” She smiled.

Johnny grabbed her hand and pulled her back. “You can’t just leave us hanging. We’re a threesome!”

Sasha sighed. “Y’all deserve this moment together.”

Ivy shook her head with a smile. “We all deserve this moment. Now come on and dance with us!”

She danced with them for half of the song and then she slowly removed herself. They deserved at least one moment together alone. Everyone had been tip toeing around her feelings so much lately so now it was time for her to give them something back. This was all of their prom and they deserved for it to be every bit of perfect and special regardless of her.

She took a walk outside and sat under the gazebo outside of the venue.

The night air rustled through her curls but it felt good. She needed this moment alone so she could collect her thoughts and get her emotions together.

After a while she heard footsteps approaching. Multiple footsteps. She didn’t bother to turn around, she figured it was Johnny and Ivy coming to take her back inside with them.

“I’m okay guys, please go back in and have fun. Prom is almost over!” She spoke with her back turned.

Jaehyun chuckled.

Sasha’s breathing hitched in her throat. She knew that laugh from anywhere. She wondered was she imagining things. This had to be a daydream.

“Am I too late?” He spoke as he stood waiting on her to turn around and acknowledge his presence. He had a beautiful bouquet of flowers in hand.

She whipped herself around and found him staring at her with a huge smile. He looked amazing. All she wanted to do was jump in his arms but her feet wouldn’t move. The others stood behind him watching in awe.

-stay tuned

[chrgemeup]

hola.  i’m  frankie  —  she ╱ her,  23  years  old,  &  coming  to  you  live  from  the  cst.  i’ve  been  dying  to  use  the  love  of  my  life  again  and  join  a  decent  family  rp,  so  i’m  w/o  a  doubt  very  excited  to  be  here  !  a  few  tidbits  about  the  “refined”  detective  can  be  found  under  the  read  more.  if  you’d  like  to  plot,  𝑔𝑖𝑣𝑒  𝑡𝘩𝑖𝑠  𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑡  𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒 ��𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒  &  i  will  come  crashing  into  your  im’s.  also,  thanks  for  reading  this  sucky  intro  !

••  is  that  jessica  chastain?  no,  that’s  just  richelle  armstrong,  the  45  year  old  cis  female  who  is  a  detective.  some  say  they’re  sarcastic  &  taciturn,  but  their  family  and  friends  will  swear  they’re  incisive  &  open-minded.  when  i  think  of  them,  i  think  of  black  wardrobe,  glass  or  rosé  wine,  dark  circles  under  eyes  hiding  behind  makeup.  i  wonder  if  her  family  knows  that  they  suffer  from  ptsd  after  a  case.  ●●

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐒

full name.  richelle  lorraine  armstrong  (  née  o’conner  )

pronunciation.  r  ih  sh  eh  l

meaning of name.  rich  and  powerful  ruler

aliases.  ricki/rickie,  elle,  raine,  rainey

age.  forty-five

date of birth.  february  2nd

astrological sign.  aquarius

place of birth.  aviano,  italy

hometown.  boston,  massachusetts

ethnicity.  white  ╱  so  many  to  list  tbh

nationality.  american

languages spoken.  english,  french,  italian  &  spanish

religion.  agnostic

gender & pronouns.  cis  female  ;  she ╱ her

sexual orientation.  bisexual

romantic orientation.  demiromantic

profession.  detective

current location.  ashcroft,  massachusetts

appearance.  tba

face claim.  jessica  chastain

height.  5′4″  ft  ╱  163  cm

weight.  123  lbs  ╱  56  kg

eye color.  green

hair color.  red

complexion.  tba

build.  fit,  trained

tattoos.  few

piercings.  one  on  each  standard  &  upper  lobe,  +  helix

parents.  henry  o’conner  &  carlie-rose  o’conner  (  née  ramsey  )

siblings.  two  ╱  one  brother  &  one  sister

marital status.  married

spouse.  agent  armstrong

children.  three  ╱  roarke,  daughter,  daughter

pets.  tbd

𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘

richelle o’conner was born and raised in aviano, italy ( at a u.s. military base ), until the age of 9; she and her siblings were military brats. dad was in the air force while mom was an awarded architect. growing up in italy was different to say the least. she stood out because of her red hair. wasn’t bullied. settled in a lot quicker than her siblings. while attending school, she was both in english & italian classes, and is fluent as hell.

considering the fact that aviano is a small town in italy, there was no doubt that ricki was going to miss it. it was upsetting that she was going to leave her friends behind, ones that she was truly going to miss ( teachers included ). sadly, they didn’t keep in touch.

ricki’s four grandparents would do the best they could to help when they moved back to boston — where the o’conners are originally from. either they would stay with them for weeks, dropping them off at school and/or picking them up afterward, life at home was decent. she will often comment that she was raised by her grandparents.

mom’s job required her to travel; an architect that worked with a company that had clients from all over. however, whenever she was home, she dedicated 100% of her time with her three children. dad would be deployed for months, even years, on end. would rarely see one another, but whenever he came home... they were all relieved !

richelle did NOT go to some fancy ivy league college, decided to be a student at bunker hill community college. wasn’t too far from home, a walking distance. one helluva student. miraculously passed her classes. a bit of a daredevil.

graduated with a bachelor’s degree in criminal justice. started out as a cop, was given a promotion as a detective two years later. ( this might not be how it usually goes. not that i’d know but she’s that good. )

she met her significant other, fell in love, and a few years later, they were husband and wife. never thought she’d get married. oof, still surprised that she is, but they make it work and loves him, of course. ( this could change as soon as MUSE 1 is taken up. )

FAMILY COMES FIRST. KIDS, WORK, HUSBAND — and in that order specifically. she might become the mother of dragons when it comes to her kids. giving birth to three kiddos means: she protec, she attac, but most importantly... you don’t wanna come across her dark side. she’ll go above and beyond for them. husband included.

ALSO, she cares for people to the point where she forgets to take care of herself... and refuses to. the woman needs to chill for a sec and someone should remind her. but her secret is that she suffers from ptsd from a previous case she’s had. richelle’s lacking in the sleeping department. she rarely sleeps now, so she covers those dark circles with makeup. wears makeup almost every time she has a shift and avoids the berating from her co-workers... because they sure as hell can be annoying.

even if she spends the majority of her time at the police station, the detective does give 100% of her time + undivided attention to family and friends. rickie takes work seriously, but not herself. she cleans up good. isn’t afraid to take a challenge ! don’t challenge her, don’t recommend it.

a women with few words. speaks when spoken to, otherwise she’s quiet. a rational woman. shares opinions, is willing to listen to others if nobody will; open-minded. an approachable detective. she’s not scary... i should have just said: easygoing.

i’m gonna stop before i get carried away & i’ll make a biography + stats page for her in due course.

𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃  𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒

confidante —  this  person  would  know  what’s  going  on  with  richelle.  they’d  be  the  first  &  last  to  know  that  she’s  suffering  from  ptsd  after  closing  a  horrifying  case...  and  bonus  points  if  they  work  at  the  police  station,  too  !

best  friends —  they  were  grew  up  together  in  boston  (  or  have  known  each  other  since  living  in  ashcroft  ).  richelle  isn’t  your  typical  gossiper  but  will  give  y/m  an  ear.  she’ll  try,  but  no  promises.

honestly,  give  me  everything  and  anything  you  could  possibly  think  of.  i’m  open  for  anything  !  don’t  be  afraid  to  share  your  ideas  w/  me.  the  only  2  i  could  think  of.  shame.

[violetsmoak]

Appetence [7/?]

AO3 Link:https://archiveofourown.org/works/20251420/chapters/47997634

Blanket Disclaimer

Summary: Red Robin is investigating the disappearance of a friend and stumbles into a spot of supernatural trouble. He doesn’t expect to be saved by Jason Todd, miraculously alive five years after his death and now with the inexplicable ability to commune with the dead. Meanwhile, when Jason returned to Gotham he meant to maintain a low profile and not get involved with Bat business. That was before he found out how hot his Replacement is.

Rating: PG-13 (rating may change later)

JayTimBingo Prompts This Chapter: N/A

First Chapter

Author’s Note(s): Apologies for the wait. As you may know I had an adventure with my dropbox wherein I backed up all my files because I had to restore my laptop, and all of the files ended up mixed up in the wrong folders and I've been tracking down files one by one for the past week. I hate technology. I mean, I guess I should be happy the files didn't get deleted, but it's still a pain in the ass to re-organize manually.

Beta Reader: I’ll get back to you on that.

________________________________________________________________

Tim stares at the business card in his hand long after Jason disappears, thumbing over the false name and phone number with a reverence once reserved for clandestinely captured photographs.

Victor Shelley, Paranormal Investigator.

He wonders if Jason was trying to be funny choosing that name. Given what Tim’s heard about him in the few instances where Dick or Alfred talk about him, and what he saw for himself in the past, he thinks it’s entirely likely.

God, Dick and Alfred.

He knows they’re going to be just as blindsided about this as Bruce when they find out.

If they find out.

Guilt flickers through him now at the promise he made to Jason.

Why the hell would he promise a man he doesn’t really know—a man he’s spent a grand total of an hour and twenty-three minutes in conversation with—that he won’t let his adopted father knows he’s not dead.

That he hasn’t been dead for years.

That he’s in Gotham right now.

Tim wishes he could say it was one hundred percent his shock at Jason being alive, but that would be lying to himself. His mind flashes back to Jason’s face, his slow smirk and the smooth, deep voice, and he swears, letting his head fall against the counter.

Apparently, I promised him because he’s pretty.

It’s a new feeling for Tim. He’s never been easily swayed by looks, but something about Jason is attractive enough to put him off-guard, or at least loosen his lips more than normal.

I thought I was over this…

“I know that face.”

Tim startles and glances up at the bartender—Trista—who he had forgotten was there. He’d forgotten he was sitting in a bar, to be honest.

“Judging by the ass on that man, I can guess what it’s about,” she continues in a wry tone. Then she’s sliding a shot of amber liquid toward him. “Here. To steady your nerves.”

Tim stares at the alcohol in numb confusion.

“That’s on the house, but only because he talked more with you tonight than I’ve seen him do with anyone since he got here,” she goes on. “We’ll both pretend I don’t know you’re underage.”

Tim is too flustered by everything she’s just said to do anything other than accept the shot under her knowing gaze. Then, he beats a hasty retreat from the bar as fast as humanly possible without it looking like he’s running away.

Distracted, he returns to his apartment in the Theater District, trying to parse the events of the night from an objective viewpoint. He’s not entirely sure he didn’t dream it all up, considering whatever that incubus did to him, and so he runs tox-screens on his blood and gives himself a full physical just to make sure.

Other than spikes in several hormone levels—adrenaline, dopamine, and serotonin—his results are normal. Nothing that would really alter his perceptions of reality, the way Scarecrow or Poison Ivy’s concoctions tend to do.

That confirmed, he should be able to leave the matter alone for now. There are more pressing matters to deal with—Dante’s continued disappearance being one of them.

But thoughts of Jason continue to assault Tim’s thoughts.

Something has been bothering him since his conversation with Jason, something he wondered before but couldn’t ask because Jason got skittish and made a run for it

How the hell did Constantine cross paths with Jason anyway?

Aside from his inexplicable presence in Gotham at some point in the past five years without attracting the attention of Batman, what would interest him in a teenaged John Doe with no identity or memory?

Sliding into the chair in front of the computer in the Nest, Tim calls up the autopsy report, even though he doesn’t really need to see it. He memorized it years ago. Still, if he’s going to investigate this, he needs concrete facts, not just his memory.

It’s not difficult to create a timeline of events, between Jason’s official death and now. Or to search a list of John Does at various hospitals in Gotham within the last five to ten years, whose condition upon admittance matches the description of Jason’s injuries at death.

He finds the information he’s looking for within twenty minutes.

As it turns out, things didn’t happen quite as neatly or quickly as Jason’s story suggested. His stay at Gotham General was a lot longer than he let on, and Tim’s stomach twists as he reads the medical reports.

Various physicians left their comments on the patient, a young man of about fifteen or sixteen, severely beaten and malnourished, picked up several miles from the hospital.

The file includes a mugshot of a heavily bandaged youth, head shaved from what records indicate were several procedures to repair brain bleeds, skull, and facial fractures. Bruises and swelling make his features almost unrecognizable, except to someone who has memorized pictures of that face since he was ten years old. Someone who knows the cut of that jaw and the color of those eyes, however bleary and vacant they are as they stare into the camera.

“God, Jason…”

Tim reads over the doctors’ notes that span the course of a year, cataloging how well the boy is healing considering the heavy damage he sustained, and how he would be considered a miracle patient but for the fact whatever happened to him caused significant brain damage.

Clear psychological damage, hearing voices, incapable of speech, easily upset.

On several occasions, the boy became unaccountably terrified, screaming and yelling and trying to claw out his own eyes. Sometimes it even became violent, and in his struggles, he put three doctors, a nurse and two orderlies in the emergency room.

I’m surprised it was only that many people. Considering his training, he could have done a lot more damage.

Eventually, he always had to be drugged and restrained.

Demonic possession, maybe?

It’s not the first thing Tim would think of, but if Constantine’s involved in all this, it would make sense. And coming back from the dead like Jason says he did, it had to have side effects.

Except, there’s no mention of anything superhuman or beyond the realm of possibility regarding Jason’s strength. Surely the doctors would have made note of anything beyond the abilities of a normal, scared teenager—especially in Gotham, where strange behavior was a sad norm.

No mention of anything resembling supernatural or metahuman abilities anywhere here.

Jason was eventually placed permanently in the psych ward and likely would have stayed there for the rest of his days, except the hospital’s budget was cut in his eighth month there. Space issues required moving patients to other hospitals, and—

“Oh, no. No-no-no, tell me they didn’t,” Tim murmurs, heart sinking as he scrolls down the page of the report, knowing exactly what he’s going to find.

They sent him to Arkham.

If Tim was horrified before by the notion of Jason’s resurrection and his condition afterward, it’s nothing to how sick he feels to learn that his predecessor was sent to the cesspool that is Arkham Asylum.

He needs to turn away from his computer for a few seconds and breathe, close his eyes and concentrate on not hearing the lilting, singsong voice and tinny voice in his head.

Hush, little baby, don’t say a word, Mama’s gonna buy you a mockingbird.

Ever since his kidnapping, it’s the one place in Gotham Tim won’t venture—he’s not sure what would happen if he did. Whether he’d suffer a crippling attack of flashbacks, or march into the high security ward and slit the Joker’s throat with one of his birdarangs.

If Bruce realized Tim honestly can’t decide which would be the worse outcome, he knows he’d be benched for the rest of his life. He might not be Robin anymore, but the Family would find a way.

It’s fear of that more than anything else that helps him get a handle on his panic, tethers him back to reality better than anything else. Tim takes another series of deep, grounding breaths, before he feels confident enough to be able to get back to his research into Jason.

At least they didn’t put him anywhere near the Joker, it seems, he notices as he goes through the room assignments and Arkham floorplans. That’s about the only good thing about it, though.

Jason’s ward was for the non-communitive patients, the ones the experts considered untreatable. The ones that get forgotten about in the mayhem of the monthly outbreaks and pandemonium.

Tim’s stomach clenches tight again as he remembers incidents and dates over the years where Batman visited inmates at Arkham to interrogate them on the latest escapes or crimes happening in the city, or just to test the security there. Based on the location of Jason’s cell and Batman’s usual route, there are times when the two were only a floor apart

Tim’s heart aches for them both.

They were so close to each other! If only they’d known—!

And just as suddenly as Jason was transferred to Arkham, all records of him vanish. There’s no information about patient transfers or deaths or releases; instead, like many a nameless patient to be lost to the asylum over the years, he just vanishes.

People don’t just vanish. And in this case, I know he didn’t.

Tim goes on to cross-reference the potential dates of Jason’s disappearance with any visitors to the asylum. It doesn’t take much to identify the only visitor to the asylum for a span of weeks as a certain Chandler Ravenscar—names which another quick search link to aliases used by John Constantine in the past.

That brings Tim to a whole other avenue of research, refocusing him investigation on Constantine himself and his movements over the past years. He tends to keep to the UK, but every now and again travels to various mystical hotspots around the world.

There’s a backlog of security footage to weed through, occultist forums discussing the man and his exploits. Half of what’s written about him online is clearly conspiracy theories, a quarter of it related to some punk rock band called Mucous Membrane and something to do with the Reagan assassination. Those who have actually worked with him either seem too terrified or pissed off to say much about him.

Even harder is finding a video of the man; cameras and other surveillance devices appear to stop working around him. It’s even more of a challenge to catch a glimpse of the teenaged assistant that starts being mentioned several months after Jason’s disappearance from Arkham.

A chance freeze-frame from an airport in Beijing, however, is all Tim needs to confirm it’s Jason.

It’s hours later when Tim sits back, exhausted but now having at least a general timeline of what happened.

One thing is for damn sure—I can’t take this to Bruce.

The story is too painful, too unbelievable. If it doesn’t break him all over, it will have him lashing out at Tim for making up stories about a touchy subject. There’s enough tension between them both right now that he’s likely to question anything suspect Tim brings to him.

Or he would insist it was a trick, that someone had faked all of this. He wouldn’t take Tim’s word for it, would investigate himself, prepare himself for an interrogation when what Jason needs is to have a face to face with his adopted father and mentor.

And Jason’s story still has too many holes in it for Tim to tell it, begging more questions than answers.

Like why Constantine took you from Arkham in the first place. And also…there’s one other thing that doesn’t make sense.

Well, a lot of things don’t make sense, but this stands out.

Tim goes back to the hospital records, scanning for the section where he remembers reading the information.

John Doe’s injuries in the medical files are all consistent with those in Jason’s autopsy, with every scar and broken bone accounted for and described.

Except for an autopsy scar.

That would have been the first thing medical professionals remarked upon when Jason was admitted, but it’s not mentioned anywhere. Which must mean that somehow, Jason no longer has it.

So why did that heal and nothing else did? Could it have something to do with what brought him back?

There’s a sudden dull, clunk in the background and the slide of elevator doors, and Tim glances up to watch Stephanie Brown stride into his base of operations.

“I was on the way out and Babs sent me to check on you,” she tells him. “Apparently someone missed work today without calling in and isn’t answering their phone.”

Tim startles at that, glances at the clock in the corner of his screen and swears when he realizes she’s right. He was supposed to be at Wayne Enterprises an hour ago. When he glances at his cellphone, he sees twelve text messages and three missed calls from Lucius, Dick and Bruce.

“I didn’t even notice,” he groans. He was so caught up in finding out more about Jason that he lost track of time. He quickly taps out a group message reassuring them he’s fine and will be in soon.

“At least being flaky is characteristic of billionaire teenagers,” Steph says as she wanders over.

Tim quickly minimizes his search and swivels around in his seat to face her. “Why are you even awake this early?”

Given the way she spends her nights, Steph made a point of having all of her classes in the afternoon. She’s possibly less of a morning person than Tim is, to the point where even coffee doesn’t make her a little more human.

“Blame my new roommate,” she grumbles, and that earns a surprised look because it’s the first time he’s heard of this. “Right, I didn’t tell you, did I? So, a couple of weeks ago this cat shows up on the fire-escape outside my window. And I didn’t mean to feed it, but it looked so sad and pathetic and I had to, so now it won’t leave me alone. What am I supposed to do? I don’t have time to be a pet owner.”

“Cat’s don’t actually take that much care.”

“That’s what they want you to think. And then one cat becomes two, and two becomes three and the next thing I know, I’m going to be the crazy cat lady on the block,” Steph complains. “And not to cool, sexy, Selina kind of cat lady but the sad, single shut-in.”

“You could never be a shut-in. No four walls can keep your raw joie de vivre inside,” Tim says in a flat tone.

“You’re just saying that because you’re my boyfriend. Ex-boyfriend.” She frowns in confusion. “Are we in an on-again or an off-again right now? I forget.”

Tim remembers Jason’s cocky grin and muscular thighs and his mouth goes dry. “Off. Definitely off.”

Steph’s eyebrows disappear into her hairline. “That was weirdly assertive. Am I sensing a pretty girl behind that sentiment? Do I need to give a shovel talk?” Something occurs to her and she scowls. “It’s not that Lynx chick, is it? Trust me when I say that would be a bad idea.”

“There’s no girl,” Tim mumbles. “Trust me.”

“Okay,” she allows, slow and still somewhat dubious. “But you’d tell me, right? If you were seeing someone? Only so I don’t go crossing lines or causing jealous rage or something.”

“There’s nothing going on, yes I would tell you, can we please move on?” Tim huffs. “Tell me about your cat.”

“He’s not my cat.”

“You fed him, he’s your cat.”

“Stop changing the subject. You’re being evasive—there so is a girl.”

“There’s no girl!” Tim groans, half tempted to tug at his hair. “Who could look at another woman after being with you?”

“I don’t know whether to take that as a compliment or as an insinuation I was so horrible that I turned you off women for good,” Steph says, eyes narrowed in suspicion. A beat later, she tilts her head to one side as if something has occurred to her. “Wait. That’s it, isn’t it? It’s a guy. This someone’s a guy. You know you can tell me, right? That would totally be okay—would actually explain a lot, actually—you know, you liking guys—”

“One guy does not equate guys.”

“Oh my god! There is! There’s a guy!” Steph squeals. “Who is it? It’s that friend of yours, that went missing, isn’t it? Dante something? That’s why you’ve been so obsessed with finding him!”

“I’m determined to find him because he’s my friend,” Tim counters, a bit irritated. “The same way I’d be determined to find Ives or Bernard or anyone I cared about. And I’d be doing that right now if someone wasn’t distracting me.”

Two someones, but she doesn’t need to know about Jason’s role in it.

“And I’d believe that if you weren’t looking at me like you wanted to jump out of your skin. There’s something going on here, Ex-Boy Wonder.”

“There’s nothing going on.”

“Lies!”

“For something to be going on, you have to actually spend more than an hour with someone. You have to have known them for more than an hour.”

“Not if you have chemistry,” Steph points out. “Sometimes, it’s just like. Bang.” She grins. “And then you have to bang.”

Tim rolls his eyes.

“Do I need to give you the safe sex talk?” Steph asks with concern that’s only half teasing. “The gay-sex safe sex talk? Because to be honest, I don’t think I’d be able to do it with a straight face.”

“Steph, that was awful. As a former Robin, you should be ashamed.”

“And as a former Robin, you should be better at lying. So, spill. What’s going on?”

Tim studies her, chewing on his tongue; he knows she won’t let it go unless he gives her something. “Okay. Fine.”

“Hah! I knew it!”

“Not that. This is…something else,” he says. “Sort of.”

“Okay?”

“What would you do if…say you found out something really important to a person you care about. But you promised someone else you wouldn’t tell anyone about that something because of…reasons. Personal reasons.”

Steph crosses her arms. “Is this about me?”

“Not everything is about you.”

“Then it’s about Mystery Boy.”

“It’s not about—” Tim gives up, and then sighs, because it’s just easier to give her that one. “Fine. It’s Mystery Boy. He asked me not to say something that’s really important. I figure it’s because he wants to say himself in his own time. Except. Except it’s a huge thing.”

“Starbucks discontinuing pumpkin spice lattes’ huge, or ‘Hush trying to destroy B’ huge?”

“Closer to the second. Not dangerous like that,” he adds quickly when he sees her face. “It’s just…serious stuff that could hurt if it’s not handled the right way. Or if certain parties found out later and thought they were having stuff kept from them.”

“Well, now I’m curious…”

“I’m not telling you.”

“I know that. I’m just saying.” Steph sticks out her tongue at him, but then becomes contemplative. “I guess I’d keep my mouth shut. Or try to, at least. Stuff like that always tends to come out eventually. But if you’re worried it could hurt someone, maybe you can convince Mystery Boy it’s in his best interest to tell someone.”

“Yeah, that didn’t go over too well.”   

“Well, whatever you do, don’t get into your micromanaging, control-freak headspace,” she tells him. “That’s one of the things that torpedoed you and me, and if you want things to work out with this guy, you should respect his wishes.”

“I never said anything about wanting anything to work out with anyone,” Tim protests. “I just met the guy.”

“And somehow he got you to promise not to tell something that’s apparently really important. Which means you already value him somehow, and that only happens to you when you really like someone. Also, you might be able to straight-up bluff Batman or Ra’s al Ghul, but I know how you look when you like someone and don’t want anyone to know it.” There’s a beeping noise and Steph digs out her cellphone. “And with those pearls of wisdom, I have to get going. My mom found the cat and she’s having a conniption.”

She turns to leave, pauses once she enters the elevator and turns back around, jabbing a finger at him.

“Shower, eat, go to work, stop obsessing about stuff you can’t control—and don’t try to control stuff that’s not your business.”

Tim bristles. “Yes, Mother.”

“Oh, you did not just go there,” she growls as the elevator doors close and Tim grins until she’s gone.

He knows that Steph’s right, to a certain extent. This whole Jason thing isn’t his business—he was only ever an outside observer, a legacy after the fact. And even if it was his business, it’s not his predecessor’s sensibilities he should be protecting.

Ill-advised crush aside, he doesn’t have any connection loyalty to Jason Todd. He does owe Bruce—he should be going straight to him about this.

Except…

Except, Tim really doesn’t want to be added to the list of people who betrayed Jason’s trust. Especially given how fragile it is given their short acquaintance.

Tim groans and leans back against his chair, wishing for an easy solution. He’s usually able to figure out what to do, even when it comes down to the hard choices.

“Stop obsessing about stuff you can’t control—and don’t try to control stuff that’s not your business.”

Steph’s right.

He’ll do as Jason asked.

Or, at least he’ll give it a week.

If he hasn't figured out any other way to deal with the situation, he'll go to Bruce.

In the meantime—he has an investigation to get back to.

⁂⁂⁂

Next Chapter

[theoddcatlady]

I Lived in the Haven Commune, Part Seven FINALE

Part Six

I wish I could say the story went on. That I found the answers I wanted, that I can share more with you all about the Wild’s God. About the Unknown Creatures Shellow, Beleven, and the many more I knew were out there. It feels like I was only looking through a hole in a wood fence and I’m sure that the people reading this share my same wonder.

But that’s not how real life works. Real life works with people rather than being curious and awestruck of the unknown, being afraid of it… and wanting to snuff it out.

I had a feeling something wasn’t quite right a few days up to the raid. My father had become one of the trusted members of Haven and had joined the unofficial council that included Father Holmes, Dr. Gardner, Frank, and a few others. Lately they’d been talking late into the night, I’d ask my dad what was wrong but he wouldn’t tell me anything.  

It was cold. So cold, that early morning when our cabin door was suddenly bashed in and men in full black uniforms announced that they were the police and that we needed to come out right now. I nearly fell out of bed as I screamed. My dad got up and held up his hands, asking them what was going on and what were they doing.

I only had time to grab my coat and put on my slippers before we were all led out to the main building. People in full SWAT gear were going from cabin to cabin, waking up the inhabitants and forcing them to walk in the snow. Frank had been handcuffed, probably because his first reaction was to lash out physically. I guess I could say he was lucky he wasn’t shot.

The children were separated from their parents, I could hear Tara wailing for her mommy. I picked her up and quietly soothed her, patting her back and locating Scotty. I walked up to him and asked, “What the hell is going on?” I knew I shouldn’t swear around Tara as she repeated everything, but there’s a time and a place for swearing and this was one of those times and places.

Scotty shrugged. “I don’t know, they just marched in and told us to come in here,” He said.

“Where’s Abigail?”

Another shrug. “I don’t know. Did you see her outside?”

I shook my head. “No… do you think they hurt her?”

“They’re the cops. This has to be a misunderstanding, right?”  

I nodded before my shoulder was tapped. I turned to see a man with glasses and a button up shirt. “Hey, I’m Dr. March. Is that your baby?” He asked, pointing to Tara.

I burst out laughing before I realized he wasn’t joking. “No! I’m thirteen!” I said.

Dr. March nodded, but I knew he didn’t believe me. “Would you be more comfortable being interviewed in another room, away from your friend?” He asked.

I scowled and handed Tara to Scotty. “Get the hell away from me, or I’m going to scream as loud as I can. When I start screaming, I promise you, everyone under the age of three will start screaming too. I’m their babysitter. I’m not anyone’s mom. Go bother someone else,” I turned my back on him and started playing with Tara, promptly ignoring all his other questions.  

I put the pieces together a few years later that he wanted me to say I was molested. I’m not sure if he cared if that was true or not, but at the time he was seriously pissing me off, so I didn’t even bother giving him the time of day. Any of the other teenage girls followed suit, they didn’t respond to any interview attempts and even trying to get one of them into another room ended up with joint screaming. Our version of a ‘peaceful’ protest.  

A burly fellow walked over after the latest screaming fit. “March, what the actual fuck?” He asked, crossing his arms.

Dr. March sputtered hopelessly. “I tried to ask Sara to have an interview with me, and then they all just… I’m losing my mind here, Dorse,” He said.

I smirked and turned to the others, counting down from three with my fingers. Once the last finger went down, we all screamed again. Dorse slammed his hands over his ears before he shouted, “Quiet! All of you!”  

This only made Tara and another baby start crying. I didn’t bother to hide my grin. “Sorry, sir, we just want you to know that we don’t need to be interviewed,” I said.

Dorse frowned. “All right, let’s just get this over with the easy way. Is anyone here under the age of eighteen and married to the man you call Father Holmes?” He asked.

All of us balked at the idea. “No! He’s not married to anyone! Ask Dr. Gardner, she castrated him herself before I even got here!” I said.

Dorse was downright floored at my bluntness. “Do you even know what that means?” He asked.

“I’m thirteen. Not five.” I crossed my arms. “Can you please just tell us what’s going on? We want to know where our parents are and if they’re okay, and if my friend Abigail is with them.”

“Abigail?” Dorse glared at Dr. March, who just shrunk. “Did you even think of asking the kids if we gathered all of them?!” He scoffed and didn’t even bother to listen to Dr. March. “All right, squirt, how old is Abigail?”

I glanced at Scotty, who mouthed ‘just tell him’ at me. “… She’s my age. She’s not here, and I’m worried.”

“Could she have run into the forest? We have men combing it already, if she’s there, we’ll find her.”

I felt my heart sink to my stomach. Scotty went white and said, “You… you’re in the forest?”  

Dorse nodded. “Searching for the weapons,” He said.

“You need to get them out of there,” I blurted out.  

“Why’s that?”

I gulped. “The… The Wild’s God. He won’t like it,” I said.

Dorse looked puzzled. “Come take a walk with me, kid. What’s your name?” He asked.

“Jane. Jane Delaney.”

We ended up in the clinic, which was the only unoccupied space of the main building. I sat with Dorse on one of the cots, where he offered me a juice box. “You know, I have a daughter, about your age. Her name’s Andrea,” He said. “I know you’re a bit old for these, but I still catch her snitching one from her little brother’s lunches.”

I took the juice box and quietly thanked him. I took a few sips before I asked a question of my own. “Why are you looking for weapons? Haven doesn’t have any of those in the woods,” I said.

Dorse sighed and ran a hand through his graying hair. “Kid, I’ll be straight with you. We have reason to believe that Haven is stockpiling weapons and there’s been… rumors about Father Holmes. Do you know that’s not his real name?”  

I shook my head.

“His real name is Calvin Bram. Twenty six years ago, he changed his name to Calvin Holmes and started up Haven with money he borrowed from his uncle. We’ve had suspicions about him for a long time.”

I shook my head. “Rumors, you mean that he’s a pedophile? Sir, I told you, he’s castrated. I’ve seen him take his pills.” I’d caught him once after a night meeting and asked him what he was taking, he explained that he’d needed hormones because of the surgery he’d had a few years prior. “I’ve been alone with him a few times. He’s never done anything to make me feel uncomfortable or touched me.”

“We received tips from a few former members that that wasn’t the case.” Dorse handed me a pack of gummies, I knew by then it was bribery but I was hungry and didn’t care. “Are you one hundred percent sure he’s never treated anyone a little more special? Given them gifts, paid them more attention?”

Again I shook my head. “He almost goes out of his way to make sure that no one gets the wrong impression. Listen, you really shouldn’t be in the forest without Sweetheart. She knows when an Unknown Creature is getting close.”

“All right, what is an Unknown Creature, kiddo? Because I’m lost there.”

I shrugged. “They’re called Unknown, sir. We just know they’re around where the Wild’s God is,” I said.

“Have you ever… seen an Unknown Creature?”

I nodded and finished off the package of gummies. “I got my blood sucked out by one, see?” I popped up my knee and showed him the scar on the back of my knee. “They can be teenee or enormous. The one that attached itself to me was called a Beleven leech.”

“I… see.” I got another package of gummies, this one I held onto. “What is the Wild’s God? Have you seen him?”

I chewed my bottom lip. “You think I’m making all of this up, don’t you?” I asked suspiciously.  

“Well, you seem to believe it’s true.” He leaned forward. “What is the Wild’s God?”

I stared at the floor. “He’s… he is real. I’ve seen him twice. He… he’s… I don’t know, really. He looks like a tree, but he’s not. He’s alive, and he’s old. Wherever he goes, the Unknown Creatures follow. Father Holmes believes that the Wild’s God deserves our worship, as he’s beyond our understanding as humans,” I said.

Dorse was quiet for a few moments before he gave me another package of gummies. “Share with your friend, all right? You can go back to your friends now,” He said.

As I left, I heard Dorse on the radio telling his men to look out for a tree, that’s where we worship.

I knew he didn’t believe me at all but I can’t say I didn’t try.

Around noon is when people stopped checking in.  

I could hear Dorse on the radio, checking with teams two and three. He’d made sure we all had snacks this morning, but I could see sweat beading down his forehead as he tried calling them again. I left the group and walked over to him. “Sir, you need to call the others back,” I said.

“Kid, I’m a little busy,” He waved me off. “Team Six? Where the hell are teams two and three? Have you found anything the woods yet?”  

I scowled and tapped his arm. “Sir, I’m serious! They could’ve ran into some real trouble and you need to tell them to get out!” I said.

Dorse’s radio crackled on in response. “No response from Teams Two and Three. I think we’re at the tree you brought up, it’s covered in ivy… wait… is it moving?” The man on the other side of the radio went quiet for a few seconds before screaming. “Shit! Fuck! It’s moving! What… what the fuck!?” I heard gunfire and I gasped. Were they actually trying to shoot the Wild’s God?

I heard screaming and a disturbing crack before the radio went dead. Dorse went pale and the radio slipped from his grip, it nearly hit the floor but I managed to catch it. I pressed it back into his hand, ignoring how my hands were shaking. “Call. Them. Back,” I said.

Dorse swallowed before he clicked on the radio. “… Everyone, return to base camp immediately,” He said quietly before walking away.

I don’t know how many men made it back, but I can tell you that the ones that did looked like they’d looked into the face of god himself. And maybe some of them did.  

I heard Dorse shouting from one of the rooms where the adults were being kept, I couldn’t hear what he was saying but I imagine he was raging about the men that may be dead out in the forest. I just stared at the door to the outside as it cracked open.

There was Abigail, still in her pajamas and bare feet. She gestured to me to follow her. I looked around and casually got up. Dr. March looked up from his note taking. “Where are you going?” He asked suspiciously.

“Bathroom. I’m on my period and have to change my pad,” I lied, watching how Dr. March went pale. I grinned as I made my way to the door. He didn’t realize I wasn’t heading towards the bathroom until it was too late. I slipped out as he shouted after me to get back here.

The snow was starting to come down heavily, but Abigail was still warm. She wrapped me in a tight hug and sniffled.

“It’s the end of Haven,” She said in a broken voice.

My heart dropped and I pulled away. “What do you mean, the end?” I asked.

Abigail stared at the forest. It was growing dark but I could see silhouettes, figures of inhuman beings. I couldn’t tell how many there were. There could have been over a thousand.

And there was a tree that was taller than the rest right at the forest’s edge.

Abigail pulled me back into a hug, I could feel her tears land on my shoulder. “I’m so sorry. The Wild’s God… we endangered him. He’s hurt and upset, and it’s all our fault,” She whispered.

I hugged her back. “What can we do? We have to make it better,” I said.

“There is nothing we can do, except stay close to each other. I always knew you were my best friend, Jane. I love you. And if I can save one person’s life… I’m choosing you.”

Abigail pulled back enough for me to see the truth. You see, I never realized what Abigail meant by saying her mother was married to Shellow.  

Abigail face was now covered in black eyes, each blinking at its own pace. Sharp mandibles protruded from her mouth, and I could see even more eyes on her neck. Two pairs of many jointed arms ending in a sharp fingers remained tightly around me. Trapping me. Protecting me.

They flooded out of the forest after that. All sorts of Unknown Creatures, from the very smallest to the gargantuan, to the ones that lurked close to Haven to the ones that hadn’t been seen in hundreds of years.

They passed me and Abigail, not even paying the slightest attention to us as they began to tear into the building. The frog like creature I’d seen years before ripped the door off its hinges and crowed, its beak clacking together to call forward its brethren. Several of the ones that could fly began to tear off the roof.

“Wait! What about Scotty!? What about my dad!?” I tried to scramble free but Abigail’s grip only grew stronger. I was trapped.

“The God of the Old Testament envies the vengeance of the Wild’s God.”

I froze.  

No. I could hear the panic of the people trapped inside, the horrifying sounds of slaughter as the Unknown Creatures flooded into the building.  

No.  

“But… Father Holmes is loyal to the Wild’s God! We worship him!” I said, craning my neck to get a better look.  

Abigail sighed. “The truly depressing part of that is you still all believe he wants that worship,” She said.  

I swore I heard my dad’s scream cut off sharply, like it’d been choked out of him.  

“… Can you take me out of here?” My voice shook.  

Abigail nodded. I heard the back of her shirt tear and turned forward to see her wings- beautiful and emerald green, shaped like a dragonfly’s. I heard a soft buzz as we took off into the sky. Away from the building. Away from Haven. Away from my home.

I woke up in a hospital bed. I’m not sure when I passed out, whether Abigail did something or maybe the shock got to me I can’t say for sure. I saw my mother sitting by the bed, she’d lost weight since I’d seen her last and cut her hair, but I recognized her.

“Jane!” She hurried to my side and took my hand. “I heard about Haven, I thought you were dead but they found you outside the hospital… how did you get here?”

I stared at my mother, my eyes filling with tears.

“… Mom, did you tell the police that Father Holmes was touching me?”  

She didn’t need to respond. Her eyes dropped, her face filled with guilt. I yanked my hand away and turned my body away. “Get the fuck away from me. You’re a murderer,” I growled, feeling an ache fill my chest.

My mom tried to talk to me, but I gave her the silent treatment. I never hated someone more since then.  

I wasn’t the only survivor, but there weren’t many of those. My dad was dead. Father Holmes was dead. Frank, Abigail’s ‘father’, was dead. But Dr. Gardner was alive, covered with horrid burns on her hands and face but she was alive.  

I went to go see her the moment she could take guests.

She’d lost her beautiful braided hair. She turned to look at me and although she couldn’t smile widely, I saw the sides of her eyes crinkle. “… Jane. You got out,” She rasped, reached a bandaged hand for me.

I gently took it. “I’m okay. Abigail saved me,” I said.

“So… all of their children did survive.” Dr. Gardner scoffed. “The ones who got hurt the least… were the children.”

“So you knew about Abigail?” I asked.

Dr. Gardner nodded. “I delivered her myself. She was the first Creature I helped a woman birth. I nearly dropped her because I didn’t know what to do with all the limbs,” She sighed. “They certainly pick favorites.”

“What’s going to happen?” I asked.

“… We move on. Haven is the past, it’s all in ruin. Burnt to the ground.” I saw a tear well up in Dr. Gardner’s eye and I helped wipe it away. She turned to me and clasped my hand as tightly as her injured hands could. “For your own good, Jane… forget about Haven.”

I haven’t though. I never could forget.

I moved in with my mom and her new boyfriend, but I never spoke more than a few words to them. I was more like a roommate than a daughter and I was all right with that. I became incredibly self reliant quickly, I learned to cook for myself, cleaned my portions of the house, bought my own clothes and things with money I earned with chores and part time jobs.  

Nutmeg and some of my other belongings turned up in my new bedroom about a week after I moved in with my mother. The ribbon around Nutmeg’s neck was gone, but I knew who’d brought it to me.  

At school, I was a social outcast. Rumors were whispered about the girl who lived in a cult, the girl who was smart but believed in something called The Wild God and had sacrificed her own babies in his name. Yeah, kids are dicks. I don’t know where they got half that shit. But it was fine. I didn’t need friends.

I had memories. I had the Wild’s God. I have not made the mistake of worshiping him again. Whatever he is, he’s not something who needs worship.  

I’m now twenty-three. It’s been ten years since Haven burnt to the ground. And after all this time, I found Scotty.

I didn’t recognize him when he first walked into my college class. His hair had been dyed blacked, he wore eyeliner and had piercings. He looked like someone I didn’t want to run into in a dark alley, not like the boy I played with as a child.

Then he looked at me and his eyes widened. He loudly dropped his book on his desk.  

“J… Jane?”  

I burst into tears and hugged him so tightly I probably nearly fractured a rib. “Scotty?” I said, wondering if this was all a dream.

“It’s… it’s Scott now,” He laughed quietly, “You’re okay… you’re… you’re alive.”

Scott’s outer shell only hides how soft his heart still is. We’ve spent days catching up, how he was adopted by this sweet couple in another state, how he still draws the Unknown Creatures he remembers, makes notes so the details cannot escape. I shared my own journals, my own pictures. His are so much better but he’s still a bit shy about it.

We’re planning a road trip in a few months. Pooling our cash, his car’s in better shape so we’ll drive together.

We’re going back to Haven. I refuse to believe it’s entirely gone. I’m going to find the Wild’s God. I’m going to find the Unknown Creatures.

And hopefully… I’ll find Abigail.  

[mjstral]

Happy birthday Dazai♡

How do love stories usually start? With an “hello”, with an error, with a gesture or a smile. Could we ever call it a story? Could I ever use the term “love”? I could, yes, and you know I do it already. I abuse of this word, it runs through my veins now. And it doesn’t always bring me happiness. But I wouldn’t give it up for anything in the world. For me “love” rhymes with your name, it forces me to grit my teeth in agony when my hands search for yours and grope in the void. Well, precisely for this reason it is not correct to use the term “we”. Then let me try again. My story with you begins with a thought as trivial as lethal: “I won’t fall in love with you”. A little cliché, yes. Don’t tell me. Since then you have sneaked into my soul, you have become my medicine and at the same time my poison. I can’t explain it to you. One cannot explain something that is not understood. Because I don’t understand what did you make to make me lose my head like this. I tried, however, tried again and, despite everything, it is since then that I keep trying. Through letters that you will never read, through songs that inexorably lead me back to you, through sunny days, but also rainy ones. I tried to ask the moon for help, but it also couldn’t do much, if not keep quiet. I tried to ask for help from the robin in spring and the blackbird in winter; they continued to sing as if nothing had happened, not knowing what to say. I asked my head, the reason for this madness. “It will pass” it replied. I started shaking. Pass me? How could this ever happen to me? I do not want to. I don’t want to forget the things you make me feel, you make my heart so good. I don’t want this to end and continuing to love the idea of ​​you. Here, I found. I will make this ardor immortal. I will ensure that, even if one day you had to abandon my dreams on tiptoe, the footprints remain, the signs of your passage. Not even the waves can erase them. I’m sorry, now maybe you will hate me, but I decided that I will do so. I’m selfish, I’m in love. I’m crazy crazy about you. But now tell me: what is your favorite flower? Don’t laugh, it’s a serious question. Do you like Roses? They express eternal love. But they are a little banal and, then, once you said that they bloom in all four seasons, so, perhaps, even the people who love them have to die four times to see them reborn. I don’t want you to be unhappy today, let’s throw away the Roses. How about Alstroermeria? “Devotion”. I could give you a flower for every feeling, you would adorn a Garden. Let me help you carry the pots and the sprouts, plant the seeds and water them. Don’t worry, even the most delicate flowers will withstand the heat, it’s not a question of seasons. The Holly is in full bloom. Don’t you think a Cherry tree is good there? A Japanese legend tells that people who swear love under its blossoming branches are destihned to be together forever, but you know this better than me. The Columbine is already blossoming. It has such a lively color. Too bad it’s hidden by that bush… now that I think about it, it reflects a bit its meaning, don’t you think? And look here: the Dahlia and the Gerbera. My favorite, however, is the Carnation. The white one expresses admiration, the red one passionate love and the pink one loyalty. The scent of Jasmine takes me back in time, I want to dedicate this to you too. The Daisy is that kind of flower that I would like you to put in my hair. Come, let’s sit down, don’t worry about the grass, it won’t spoil. It is made of all the things I would like to tell you, but which remain in me until they hurt too much and I have to put them on paper. And when I can’t because they are too deep-rooted, flowers are born. But can you believe it? Not me, after all this time -you haave been living in my heart for three years- it still seems absurd to me that you, really you made me fall in love. I write about you all the time without even mentioning you and when people read my feelings they are upset. “Who is?” They ask me. They don’t know it and never will they know it’s you. I say it’s just the inspiration. Sometimes they believe me, others look at me stealthily. It doesn’t matter, I don’t want them to know the cause of my madness. I keep it for myself, for those who can really understand it, for those who are crazy in the same way. Now lie down and don’t think about anything. It is your birthday after all, you deserve to pass it in the best possible way. In truth you would deserve to spend every day like this and if only I could, God, if only I could I’d be the one to take the weight of who you are from your shoulders and bury it in this Garden; I would hide it from everyone’s eyes by letting Ivys grow from it. And it’s so painful, so unfair that I can’t even hold your hand today. Not even today. not even the hand. If only I could, I’d holdt it every day. I would tighten it between mine, weave my fingers between yours during a walk, without noticing, while we watch the sunset, the sea, a painting in some museum in Rome or Naples on a Sunday morning. Could I make you feel less alone? This world does not give anyone any discounts, but perhaps existence would be a little sweeter to bear with someone at your side. It is a common thought and for once I want to believe it. And what about you? Do you believe in good now? I don’t care, I’d just like to see you happy, always. When you are happy, your eyes light up with stars, the same ones that I would steal from the sky to be able to build a crown to rest on your head on June nights like these, when my sleep is troubled by the heat, by the paranoia of which it is filled my head, I see your features in the dark and embrace the pillow imagining that it is your chest, with your heartbeat that tells me fairy tales in which you and I are the protagonists. Stories never told, that’s what we are. How nice it would be, I tell myself, to see you smile like that. I would watch your lips completely lost, in love before uttering the forbidden words and approaching them to kiss you. How nice it would be to receive your caress on your face, feel the roughness of the bandages while I touch your skin, meet your gaze, be a witness to your every gesture and recognize the custom, be guardian of your dreams, count your sighs, folds of your clothes, of your thoughts, listen to your worries, your hopes and illusions… How beautiful you are my love. How beautiful you are. You’re the summer’s hit in the middle of winter, you’re the colorful umbrella on a rainy day. You are the love of my life, my most beautiful poetry and I have not yet written it. You don’t believe it? But what did they do to you? What hell did you have to go through driven by the wretched human resilience? Yet you have grasped your own life without even believing it and now you are here, now you are alive, you are more alive than ever, that’s why it hurts so much. That’s why sometimes you feel like you can’t breathe. I know it would be easier to die, that your passive nihilism led you to the brink of the abyss. Mine led me to you. Scratched and wound. Ididn’t want to believe in anyone anymore, no one anymore. Yet you have shown me that people change, albeit partially, but they change. I, who didn’t want to, have changed in my turn. It was a metamorphosis. From larvae we became butterflies. It is a pity that some of them live only one day. It scares me, it scares me to death how much you have become essential for me, how much it can affect my mood to see a picture of you and imagine you next, imagine how nice it would be to be able to join my friends’ conversations when they talk about their boyfriends and tell them about one of many comic episodes to which we give life together. Take yourself back when you say something embarrassing, laugh rudely at your funny face, blush like a fool at your compliments, feel the butterflies in my stomach as I’m getting ready to go out with you like it’s the first time and actually it’s been years. But there is no more time now. It’s getting late, you should go. Don’t worry about the Garden, I’ll take care of it like I’ve always done. It will not disappear, I will not allow it. After all, we are still here, once again, me, you and these words that escape to my control. By dint of writing about you and for you I thought I would run out of words, but in reality I feel like giving myself a fool if I think about it. The feeling, my love, is the feeling that does not die. It does not die, it does not give up this absurd alchemy that was created without you lifting a finger, without you meeting me. It just happened, like so many things I can’t explain. And I promise you that as long as it is, as long as you are with me, Snowdrop will bloom even in autumn and those who love Roses will not have to die to see them reborn because they will always be alive. I’m about to write the long-awaited ending of a chapter of my life to start another and you’re here, you’ve been here since the beginning. You have been and are the shoulder on which to cry, my determination. To thank you I can only offer you futile words, but I will, I will write. I will continue to do so until dew loses from my fingers, until the sunset will not drive away the remnants of my youth. No, ours is not a love story. There is only me who dreams of “infinitesimal moments of us”, moments that are soon lost in the sea of ​​my thoughts. I imagine what it would be like if I weren’t afraid of living and letting myself be discovered. There is me holding this little house of cards that I built with my imagination. And you are there. Irreparably, tragically, lovingly, always. In me, it’s you. And even when you leave it will remain a slice of you that I will continue to call “home”. A small amount of magic. A tiny corner of eternity. With my words, Dazai, I will make you immortal. In comparison even the ocean will look like just a tear.

[waywardnerd67]

Nerd By Day, Superhero By Night

Summary: (Y/N) loves her job as a Librarian in the small town of Lawrence, Kansas. When a new IT guy begins working there she quickly learns that there is more to him than meets the eye. Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Reader Pairing: Dean x Reader Warnings: Fluff/AU/Superhero!Dean/Nerdy!Dean Word Count: 5381 A/N: This is an AU based off THIS POST. As always this is unbeta so all mistakes are mine. Likes, comments and reblogs are splendid and I will love you doubly for them! Enjoy!

(Y/N) was sitting at the Circulation Desk at the Lawrence County Library. She was scanning in the latest books dropped off for return. Her manager, Clara, had been in her office with the newest hire to the library for the IT position.

“(Y/N), have you seen the new guy yet?” Her co-worker, Maggie asked.

She shook her head, “No. He came in during my lunch. All I know is his name is Dean Winchester.”

The girls looked up when they heard Clara’s office door open. (Y/N)’s heart nearly stopped when a tall, lean man in a button-down shirt, tie and black rimmed glasses walked out behind her manager. She swallowed hard as they approached them.

“(Y/N), Maggie this is Dean, he will be our new IT guy. Dean, Maggie is a part-time college student interning here and (Y/N) is our head librarian for this branch.” Clara said as he stuck his hand out to them both.

As soon as her hand touched his an electric currently ran up her arm. “Hi, it’s nice to meet you.” His baritone voice had her stomach doing flips.

“I-It’s nice to meet you as well. If you need anything, please let me know.” Her cheeks flared as she stumbled over her words slightly.

He smiled bashfully at her as he let go of her hand. She down noticing some bruising on his arm he was trying to keep covered by his sleeves. He followed Clara, giving him a tour of the library and where his office would be.

“Oh. My. God.” Maggie said her brown eyes wide, “He’s gorgeous! Kind of a nerd, but damn he makes it look hot.”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes going back to scanning books, “He is very good looking and there is nothing wrong with being a nerd.”

Maggie scoffed, “Usually nerds are inexperienced, and I like a man who knows what he is doing.”

“Let’s get back to work and then you can go out to find you an experienced man.” Maggie walked away to put books back on the shelves laughing quietly.

By six o’clock, (Y/N) was ready to go home, unwind and dive into her newest book. She waved goodbye to Maggie and Clara. As she walked to her car in the back of the building, she noticed Dean getting into a beautiful black Chevy Impala. He was loosening his tie and talking on his phone to someone.

She could not help the sinking feeling that he could be talking to his girlfriend or boyfriend on the phone. She shook her head slightly trying to get rid of the disappointment filling her mind. (Y/N) was almost to her car, when she felt the hair standing on the back of her neck as if someone was behind her.

She stood still for a moment before she hurriedly started to get out her keys. That is when she was knocked from behind hard against a nearby car. Large hands grabbing at her bag as she struggled to keep it on her shoulder while sinking to the ground.

“Give it up bitch or I swear I will kill you.” The man sneered as she looked up at him.

As the man lifted some kind of long object in the air to hurt her with he suddenly went flying through the air. The assailant was just as surprised as she was when he landed a few feet away. She stood up slowly seeing a tall, intimidating person standing near her.

“I believe that bag belongs to the lady. I suggest you run before you make me do something I might regret.” His voice was deep and raspy sending chills down her spine.

The man scurried away as fast as he could without a word. (Y/N) looked back towards the hero who saved her, but he vanished before she could thank him. She looked all around noticing Dean must have left before the man attacked her. She took a few deep breaths as she sat in her car trying to calm down.

The next morning, she walked into work still a little dazed from the previous night. Maggie came running up to her waving the morning paper in her face, “Have you seen this?”

“Good morning to you as well. And no, I haven’t because you keep waving it like a lunatic.” (Y/N) said a little snippy.

Maggie rolled her eyes, “Lawrence has its very own superhero.” She said excitedly laying the paper down on the circulation desk.

Before (Y/N) could look at the article, she noticed Dean coming in with his hands full of coffee and a box of pastries. “Do you need some help, Dean?” She asked walking over to take the coffees from his hands.

“Thanks. I figured… well, since I’m the new guy I would bring everyone some morning… uh treats.” The way he stammered over his words and his cheek turning pink was adorable.

Maggie quickly grabbed a cup and a Danish hopping up on the desk, “Ah, yes we do accept all forms of sucking up and flattery here.”

He chuckled as (Y/N) looked down at the front page seeing the man who had saved her. “Who is the Hood?” she asked picking up the newspaper.

“He’s the superhero I was talking about. He showed up a couple of weeks ago and has been taking out criminals left and right.” Maggie explained as (Y/N) skimmed through the article.

The picture was blurred at best but showed a tall man with leather pants and dark red jacket with his hood up. He wore a full face mask that was bright red and military black boots.

“He kind of looks like a Red Hood knock off.” (Y/N) commented as Dean choked on his coffee.

He coughed a few times turning bright red as Maggie slapped his back, “You okay there big guy? I know, (Y/N)’s nerdiness knows no bounds. Who the hell is Red Hood?”

(Y/N) smirked, “He is a character in the Batman comics. He was originally a Robin, but then supposedly died by Joker and came back to life by the Lazarus’s Pit. He comes back to his hometown of Gotham taking out the bad guys who Batman refuses to kill. He’s an anti-hero, not good but also not bad.”

She looked up to see Dean staring at her in awe. She felt her face burning as Maggie scoffed, “Seriously, this is why you do get any dates. You need to put down the comics and pick up some lipstick.”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes then heard Dean say softly, “I don’t know, I think it’s kind of hot when a woman reads comics.” He bit his lip nervously and excused himself to his office.    

“Did he just call you hot?” Maggie asked as stunned as (Y/N) was.

She shook her head, “No way. Now can we get to work.” Maggie jumped off the desk walking back towards the reference section to clean off the large tables before the library opened.

The was going well as families came in and out for their books. (Y/N) held a crafting class in the late afternoons for elementary ages so their parents could browse kid free for an hour. She noticed Dean standing there watching her closely. She looked up to see him smiling at her as he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

When the library was getting ready to close a tall man with long chestnut and a large canvas jacket on. “Can I help you?” (Y/N) asked as he nodded.

“I’m looking for Dean Winchester.” He said looking around.

(Y/N) nodded, “Okay I will go get him…” just then Dean came walking up with his computer bag over his shoulder, “Never mind, did he throw up the bat signal or something?”

He chuckled nervously, “Something like that. This is my younger brother, Sam. Sam, this is (Y/N).”

Sam waved, “Nice to meet you. Dean we really need to get going.”

He nodded glancing over to (Y/N), “Have a good night, (Y/N).”

“Bye Dean.” She said watching the brothers walking away talking adamantly.  Maggie bumped her shoulder into (Y/N)’s.

“Who is that tall drink of water?” she asked as her eyes traveled up Sam’s body.

(Y/N) rolled her eyes, “Can you control self around any man?” Maggie shook her head skipping off to the far end of the library to start shutting everything off.

Maggie and (Y/N) walked to their cars together after closing the library. She waved to Maggie as she drove away.

“Did that creep last night hurt you?” (Y/N) let out a yelp as the voice from behind her scared her.

She turned around seeing the man from the newspaper article. He was wearing his mask again and standing a few feet from her. “No, luckily you were there to save me before he could.”

“Good.” He turned to leave when (Y/N) called out to him.

“Wait, who are you? Why are you here in Lawrence? I mean, it’s not like we are Gotham City.” She asked moving closer to the man.

He laughed shrugging, “Every town needs a hero even if they are more like Ivy Town.”

(Y/N) laughed softly, “So even superheroes like reading comics.”

“Where do you think we get our inspiration from. There is true evil in this world Miss (Y/L/N) and I’m just a man who wants to save as many people as I can.” He said then turned away pressing his hand to his mask. “Got it. I’ll be there in five.”

“Someone in need of saving, Mr. Hood?” She asked.

He simply nodded taking off down the street disappearing from sight. (Y/N) sighed getting in her car. She started giggling uncontrollably, “So this is what Lois Lane and Catwoman feel like when the hero leaves them to save the world.”

Over the next few months, (Y/N) took to reading every article she could about The Hood which was the name the press came up with. The library was having electrical and plumbing work done so it was close for the day. (Y/N) and Maggie decided to invite Dean and Sam over to (Y/N)’s for movies and dinner.

(Y/N) and Dean had become good friends at work. They often would talk about the latest horror movie that had come out or new books coming into the library. She was nervous about seeing him outside of work and especially in her home.

“Are sure we couldn’t just go out somewhere?” She asked.

Maggie shook her head as she put more beer in the refrigerator, “No way. (Y/N), your house is meant for entertaining and parties. You just have no friends and now you do.”

(Y/N) sighed trying to swallow down her anxiety as she picked up a few of things on the kitchen table. Around five o’clock, there was knock on the door and she felt like her stomach was going to jump from her body.

She opened the door with Maggie right behind her smiling when she saw Dean. “You know you don’t have to dress like you’re going to work whenever you are around me.” She joked.

Dean was in a white, button-down, short-sleeved shirt with dress slacks and a tie. His cheeks turned a slight shade of pink, “I know, I was… uh… working a freelance job and had to come straight here after it.”

(Y/N) could tell he was hold back something. She shook it off handing them each a beer and walking over to continuing cooking. She noticed Maggie sitting close to Sam as his arm rested on the back of her chair.

“What are you making? It smells great.” Sam asked taking in a deep breath while closing his eyes.

She smiled proudly, “Chili, corn beard, bacon stuffed jalapeno poppers and lemon strawberry cupcakes with cream cheese icing.”

Dean sucked in a breath his lips parted slightly, “Did you say bacon stuffed poppers?”

“Yeah, I did. I hope that is okay?” She asked doubting herself. The cooler weather of fall had made her want to cook the first pot of chili for the season.

Dean’s smile erased any doubts from her mind, “It sounds amazing. Sammy and I haven’t had a home cooked meal in forever. We’re not exactly domestic.”

The girls laughed and easily the four of them fell into conversation. They found out that the brothers were born in Lawrence but after their mother died their dad moved them around a lot. Always being on the road throughout their lives, they decided they wanted a place to settle down in and they decided to come back to their hometown.

“What made you decide to go into IT?” (Y/N) asked as she placed the last dished on the table for dinner.

Dean looking longingly at all the food, “Uh… well it was just a safe career choice. What about the two of you?”

“Well I’m getting my Master’s in English Lit right now. I’m just interning at the library as extra credit. I want to travel the world and write novels or articles for online publications.” Maggie explained as Sam hung on to every word she said.

Dean turned his attention to (Y/N), “And you?”

She chuckled shrugging, “I have a degree in teaching, but I have worked at that library since I was sixteen years old. I just can’t bring myself to leave it because I love being surrounded by books.”

The brothers were digging into the food when Dean said, “You know you can do both. You can still be surrounded by books and teach. From seeing some of your classes at the library I think our schools are missing out on having you teach the next generation of doctors, lawyers and IT guys.”

(Y/N) felt her cheeks burning as she bashfully smiled over to Dean. The rest of dinner they talked about random topics and the boys praised (Y/N) repeatedly for her cooking. Afterwards, they made their way to the living room where Dean had brought over his favorite movie.

“Hatchet Man?” (Y/N) questioned as he put the DVD into the player.

“Yep! By far, my favorite movie of all time. Time to slice and dice.” Dean said sitting on the chair next to the (Y/N)’s spot on the couch.

About twenty minutes into the movie, Sam and Maggie disappeared from the living room claiming they did not like horror movies. (Y/N) did not want to think about what they were really doing within her house. She got up getting Dean another beer and some popcorn scooting over to the other side of the couch.

“If you move over then it will be easier to share the bowl.” She mentioned as he nodded moving over next to her.

(Y/N) glanced over during the movie to see Dean scrunching up his nose to push his glasses up. She watched as his lips mouthed every line from the movie. His olive eyes were focused on the screen wide with excitement.

Her body was buzzing with nervous energy sitting next to Dean. The feelings he brought up in her were foreign to her. The way she always wanted to be as close as possible to him and the urge to reach out to hold his hand. (Y/N) found herself slowly moving closer to him on the couch as the movie continued. That is when she noticed he was also moving himself closer to her and hope filled her heart.

Suddenly, Sam came out into the living room his shirt untuck and hair messy. “Dean, we… uh need to leave. Something came up at home.”

Dean looked slightly worried, “Alright Sam.” He glanced to (Y/N) softening his eyes, “I’m sorry we have to rush out. I promise we can watch your favorite movie next time and without the party poopers.”

She nodded smiling, “I hope everything is okay.”

Dean got up following Sam to the front door. Maggie and (Y/N) watched them quickly get into Dean’s car and take off down the road. Maggie placed her arm around (Y/N)’s shoulder, “I think I’m in love.”

“You mean in lust.” She chuckled as they cleaned up the living room.

Maggie left soon after leaving (Y/N) alone with her own feelings unknowing how to deal with them. Finally, around midnight she could not stand being inside anymore. Putting on her running clothes and a hoodie she grabbed her phone along with her earbuds deciding to work off some of the energy keeping her up.  

She did not normally like running in the middle of the night but lying in bed wide awake thinking of Dean was no better. She started off towards the library which was two miles from her house. The cold wind nipped at her blistering skin. Her running playlist pushed her to run harder.

She knew the policy at the library was co-workers could not be in romantic relationships. That on top of Dean’s comment of being able to teach while surrounded by books had her considering a huge change for her life. When she reached the library, she sat down on the stairs leading to the main entrance breathing heavily.

“You shouldn’t be out here this late.” Her eyes snapped to see the familiar red mask and dark leather outfit.

“Too much on my mind and running helps.” She explained standing up and walking towards the city’s hero, “Busy night?”

He shook his head, “Not anymore. Took care of a few issues near Kansas City but for tonight Lawrence is safe.”

The Hood turned to walk away, and she reached out suddenly touching his arm, “May I ask you something?”

“Sure, but I may not answer?” He said stepping closer to her.

As if her brain had no control over her hand, she reached up touching the side of his mask. The feelings Dean brought up in her did not even compare to the ones the masked man was able to make her feel.

“Why do you keep coming back to me? Am I in danger or…” she let her question drift off as he moved away slightly.

He stared down at her as she gripped his leather clad arms feelings the lean muscles of his arms. “You’re not in danger and I want to make sure to keep it that way. I… I feel a connection with you, but what I do,” he paused stepping completely away from her, “I can’t have any attachments.”

He popped his hood on turning his back to her looking over his shoulder, “You should stay clear of me.” With that he took off leaving her slightly speechless.

“What if I don’t want too.” She whispered.

Over the next several months, (Y/N) started looking into making a few changes along with hanging out with Dean more often outside of work. When she was with him, she would forget all about The Hood. They had so much in common and she loved spending time with him.

“Dean, can I ask you something?” she asked as they were walking towards the movie theater after work. They were going to see the latest Halloween movie after Dean insisted he treat her to it.

“You just did.” He chuckled.

She rolled her eyes, “Funny. Um, I feel kind of awkward asking this, but we’ve been hanging out a lot and it’s been a lot of fun.”

Dean nodded in agreement smiling at her, “I think so as well.”

(Y/N) took a deep breath stopping just outside the theater, “Is there something between us here or am I just reading too much into this?”

He nervously fidgeted with his glasses looking away from her. She could feel her heart dropping as the silence grew between them. “(Y/N), I like you a lot but…”

She shook her head not wanting to hear what he was going to say. Tears were threatening to fall down her cheeks and she did not want him to see her cry, “It’s fine. I shouldn’t have asked. I think… I think I’m just going to go home. Goodnight Dean.”

(Y/N) started to walk away quickly hearing Dean calling out to her. Her vision blurred from tears streaming down her face and her chest was burning from the sob she was holding back. When she finally stopped looking around not recognizing where she was.

She pulled her phone out to call Maggie and she cursed as she found her phone was dead. She pulled her coat around herself tighter walking back towards what she thought was the direction she came from.

“Hey beautiful, what are you doing in this neighborhood?” She turned to see someone standing behind her.

She started to back away slowly, “I’m just waiting for a friend to pick me up. He’ll be here any moment.”

For each stepped she took away from the man he would step closer to her. “Why don’t I just take you where you need to be and forget about your friend.”

(Y/N) felt her back press against a wall of a building as the man blocked her from moving placing his hands on the wall behind her. Panic was now spreading throughout her body as she wished she had never left Dean’s side.

“Step away from her.” A deep threaten voice came from behind the man caging her in against the wall.

The man started chuckling, “Hoodie Boy. You’ve been going around hurting a lot of my friends lately and I would love to repay you for that.”

“(Y/N), go now.” The Hood said looking straight at her as she ran past him. She hid behind a nearby parked car watching as the two men lunged at one another.

The Hood blocked every punch the man threw at him with ease. Never before had (Y/N) been impressed with anyone fighting but The Hood made it look as easy as breathing. She moved slightly knocking over a few empty cans next her. Looking up she saw The Hood staring at her and the man saw an opportunity to take a shot at him.

“WATCH OUT!” She screamed.

It was too late the man’s fist connected with The Hood’s mask knocking it completely off. It slid right to (Y/N) who grabbed it quickly off the ground. The Hood shook his head slightly dazed. That is when she noticed the smaller eye mask over his eyes. His hair was wildly sticking up in all directions as he got off the ground.

As he stood up he squared his shoulders and marched over to the man with a fierce determination. With two forceful blows to the face the man crumbled to the ground and The Hood tied his hands along with his feet together.

(Y/N) jogged over to him, “Thank you.” She said breathlessly.

He kept his face turned away from her, “You know you shouldn’t run away when you don’t know where you’re going. You could have been hurt or worse. You need to be more careful.”

She sucked in a shaky breath, “I-I didn’t mean too. I was… wait how did you know I was upset and ran away?”

“I have to go.” He said picking up the man and tossing him over his shoulder. Without another word he was gone. She followed him as best she could to the end of the street where he got onto a motorcycle with the man propped up against him.

She he sped by, she caught a glimpse of his face and she gasped, “Dean.”

The next morning, she walked into the library with The Hood’s mask in her bag. Walking into Dean’s office, she looked around seeing pictures of him and his brother from various states along with childhood pictures of his family. He had a few collector items on his desk like a figurine of Hatchet Man and an exact replica of his car.

There was still an hour before anyone else would be there as she sat down at his desk. She opened his top drawer seeing a variety of office supplies. When she opened the next drawer is when she found what she was looking for. It was the identical eye mask that The Hood had been wearing confirming her suspicions.

Quickly, she closed the drawer and left his office. He had called in for the day just reassuring (Y/N)’s thoughts that Dean Winchester was The Hood. That very revelation kept her distracted at work all day to the point that Clara told her to go on home.

“We’ve got this (Y/N). It’s not that busy and you don’t have any classes. Go on home and we’ll see you tomorrow.” She nodded grabbing her things.

She sat in her car for several minutes holding the menacing red mask in her hands. Tossing it onto the passenger seat, she drove off in the opposite direction of her house. Within fifteen minutes she was parked outside a beautiful two-story house in Lawrence. Walking up to the front door she knocked, and Dean answered wearing jeans, t-shirt and flannel shirt along with his black rimmed glasses.

“(Y/N), what are you doing here?” he asked stunned.

She held up the mask, “I think we need to talk.”

Dean took the mask as she walked inside. The Winchester’s house was beautiful and not at all what she was expecting for two bachelors to be living in. She turned towards him crossing her arms over her chest, “Start talking.”

“How did you figure it out?” he asked setting the mask on his kitchen table sitting down.

“I saw your face as you drove pass me last night. I think I would recognize the face of the guy I’ve been falling for the last few months even with an eyes mask and make-up.” (Y/N) sat across from him seeing a smirk.

He reached up taking off his black rimmed glasses, “Well I guess I don’t need these around you.”

Disappointment hit her seeing him take off the one thing she was attracted to the most, “Did you really think wearing glasses would not make people put two and two together?”

“I figured if it worked for Superman then why not me.” He chuckled then grew serious seeing her face, “Honestly, I never figured I would lose my mask. It’s specifically fitted for me and until last night I had never lost it in a fight. Thank goodness, Sam insisted I wear that eye mask underneath or the douchebag could have made me from the first night I took him down.”

(Y/N) gave him a curious look asking, “First night? You’ve taken him out before?”

“Yeah, the guy who pushed you against your car was the same guy from last night. The police in this town are mostly corrupt and let the criminals go. That is why Sam and I are here.” He explained.

Sam entered the kitchen cautiously, “Hey (Y/N).” he said nervously.

“Hello Sam, so are you the sidekick?” she asked as he glared at her while Dean’s booming laughter filled the room.

Sam narrowed his eyes on his brother, “No I’m not. I’m the brains while he’s the brawn. I run this operation from here and send him where he needs to kick ass.”

“So, you’re Alfred to his Batman.” She said purposely trying to get a rise out of him.

Sam gawked at her then smiled, “I��ll take that as a compliment. Please don’t tell Maggie. She knows nothing of this and I really don’t want her too.” He paused, “Yet anyway.”

“Your secret is safe with me.” (Y/N) said looking directly at Dean.

Sam rocked on his feet awkwardly, “Okay then. Well, I will just leave you two to chat.” He went back down through the door that must have led to the basement of the house.

“So?” Dean asked looking down at his hands on the table.

“So, what now? I know your big secret and now you know mine. Where do we go from here?” she asked a dull ache beginning to form in her heart.

Dean chuckled, “What, that you have a massive crush on me?”

She gave him a pointed look, “Funny Winchester, very funny. I’m trying to be serious here. Do you rec con my brain, so I never knew you and move far, far away? Do we just pretend to ignore one another like nothing ever happen?”

He stood up reaching for her hand, “Come with me.”

She hesitantly took his hand her heart racing as she followed him upstairs to an empty room. Dean stood holding her hand in the middle of the room. “When Sammy was six months old our mother burnt on this ceiling in his nursery. My dad found her and gave Sam to me to get out of the house. Then six months after his twenty-third birthday, his girlfriend Jessica burnt on the ceiling of their apartment at Stanford.”

(Y/N) looked up to the ceiling seeing absolutely no evidence of a fire. “What happened?” she asked as he turned to face her.

“A demon killed our mother and his girlfriend so that Sam would fall in line to lead an army of demons from Hell. Of course, my dad and I would never let that happen and a couple years later I killed that very demon after our dad had sacrificed himself for me.” Dean paused for a moment.

She looked up at him, “Go on.” She said reassuringly.

For the next couple of hours, Dean told her all about their lives leading them back to Lawrence and fixing up their childhood home as a base for their superhero career. They sat on the floor in the room, Dean’s back against a wall while he pulled her into his side placing his arm around her.

“Dean, why are you telling me all of this? Not that I mind because I would love to know everything about you, but why now?” she asked looking up at him.

He bit his lip nervously, “I like you. I like you a lot and this life is lonely. Being a hunter and now a vigilante is dangerous for me, for Sam and for anyone who gets close to us. It’s always only been the two of us and since we’ve been living here we both found someone we want more with.”

His olive eyes were shining as the afternoon sun was starting to set. She smiled up at him, “Found someone, huh? Then you should probably be telling her all of this and not me.”

“Ha. Ha. Funny.” He brushed a stray strand of hair from her face gently trailed his fingers down her cheek. She leaned into his touch watching as his lips moved closer to hers.

“Dean, hey… Oh! Sorry.” Sam said walking into the room.

Dean growled, “What Sam?” he asked through his teeth.

“There is a domestic disturbance a few miles away. You better suit up.” He said chuckling as he left the room.

Dean rested his forehead against hers, “I have to go.”

“I know.” She whispered as they got up walking back downstairs.

“Come on, I’ll show you where everything happens.” Dean said leading her down into the basement.

Sam was sitting in front of three large monitors clicking on a keyboard. There were large TVs with news feeds and traffic cams constantly playing. On the other side of the basement was a training area with weapons for Dean. Then she spotted his outfit hanging up on a door.

Dean was grabbing it disappearing behind the door. As she looked around, he stepped back out full dressed and her eyes traveled up his body. A smug smile spread across his face as he walked over to her. She was holding his mask in her hands.

“So, which do you prefer? Nerdy by day or superhero by night?” he asked.

She reached up running her hand up the back of his neck and pulling his lips to hers. “Both.” She whispered against them as she pulled away handing him his mask. “By the way, keep the glasses look. Nerds are hot.”

His cheeks were as red as his mask as he slipped it on. Walking out a back door that led to where his motorcycle was parked. (Y/N) stood behind Sam as he watched Dean’s helmet camera as he drove down the street.

“(Y/N),” Sam said as she hummed her response, “Welcome to the family business.”

If you enjoyed this story then check out my Masterlist!

My Nerd Herd: @waywardbaby @waywardrose13 @carryonmywaywardcaptain @anotherwaywardsister @ladywinchester1967 @dwgrl1903 @akshi8278 @ericaprice2008 @mirandaaustin93 @spnbaby-67 @time-travel-bouqet @1967-essentialghoul @dean-winchesters-bacon @destielhoneybee @-lovepeacenhope- @destiel745 @carribear31 @srsllydunnodoncare @whimsicalrobots @thisismysecrethappyplace @starstruckzonkoperatorbat @adoptdontshoppets @mrswhozeewhatsis @bella-ca @drakelover78 @imascio08 @pisces-cutie @mannls @the-salty-asian @winchesterprincessbride @xostephanie @klanceiscannon14 @superromijn @witch-of-letters @supernatural-teamfreewillpage @ain-t-bovvered

[54fangirl]

Out of Sight, Out of Mind (Pt. 3)

Sweet Pea X OC

Summary:  Danika and her younger brother, Anthony, are abandoned by their mother. She can’t handle her daughter’s mental state anymore so she leaves the siblings with her mother back in Riverdale, both kids assuring their grandmother that she’s not coming back. Tony is a genius at only 10 and back in their hometown, he was in a promising education program, on the road to an ivy league school with a full scholarship, but in the southside? Danika just needs to keep him away from gang activity, which is hard when she herself gets a little too close.

Pairings: Sweet Pea x Female!OC

Words: 1381

Warnings: swearing, talk of suicide/drug use/alcoholism, allusions to some past trauma, (Future Warning) Mentions of and references to suicide and self-harm

A/N: O M F G I am the worst at updating. So much has been going on- too much. And everything got really out of hand and the world was kind of against me. Anyway, I’m sorry again.

Disclaimers: I own nothing but the plot and the OC’s

Part 1 | Part 2

Danika slammed the door shut when she got home.

“I can see you’re in a great mood.” Her grandmother commented, flipping through a magazine.

“What the hell did my mom tell you and what the hell did you tell the school?”

“What do you mean, darling?”

“I mean I got called into the counselor's office because ‘my grandmother stated some concerns about me’ and now everyone I know there thinks I’m a fucking nutjob.”

“You watch your tone, missy-”

“No! I don’t know what you think you know but I assure you it’s wrong!”

“Really? So you didn’t try to end your life? You didn’t stay in the hospital for over two months because they were concerned you’d try and do it again? None of that happened? How about the drugs? The drinking? Was that fake too?” Her mom really went all out to ensure her grandmother didn’t trust her.

“You don’t know the whole story-”

“I don’t need to! Your mother told me to keep you safe! I will do that, no matter what! You are the most important thing, I’m sorry if you feel wronged but you are everything in this situation-”

“I’m not going to have any friends because of this! I need friends to feel sane for christ sake-”

“Watch it! You’re on thin ice young lady!”

Danika wanted to scream and rip her hair out, she wanted to go back. She wanted to destroy everything she worked so hard to achieve.

“There’s going to be some changes in your life and you’re just going to have to deal with them.”

At this point, not even her pills could give her the energy to deal with this argument so she nodded for her grandmother to continue.

“For starters, you’re going to start coming to church with me and Abuelo on Sundays.” Danika only nodded, “I gave you the summer to adjust to living here but now you’re going back to your routine which means therapy.”

“Abuela! No!”

“I’m not arguing about it, you’re going. It’s a group at the hospitals that meets Sundays, Mondays, and Wednesdays.”

“So I have to go to church and group therapy every Sunday?”

“Yup. And you’re not getting out of it. You also have private sessions on Thursdays.”

“So I won’t be having a social life at all then?”

“Did you really expect one?”

No, but she didn’t need to know that.

“You’re also not allowed to date and you will stay away from any and all gangs.” That one was going to be hard considering that the only people she went to school with were gang members and she was pretty sure one of them had a crush on her.

Her grandmother continued listing off rules that just brought her down, they only stopped because Abuelo was home and with him was Anthony.

“Antonio, my boy, how was school?” Maya squished his face together.

“Good, boring though. My teacher wouldn’t let me do my Algebra at recess, she took my book and said I should go play with the other kids.”

“You should, Tony. Make some friends, algebra is not as exciting as you think.” Danika told her brother.

“But I already finished the medical textbook, I wanna learn math.”

“You can do math instead of watching cartoons then, but you need to interact with kids your own age so you don’t dissociate yourself from the population, get it?” He hated it when she talked to him like he was ten, so she tried to use bigger words so he could expand his vocabulary as they had regular conversations.

“Fine, I suppose that makes sense.”

“Good, now go get started on your homework and you can read mine with me.”

He ran upstairs happily, followed by their grandfather. Abuela looked back at Danika.

“He’s smart, so I know he knows something but I know he doesn’t know everything because I know you. And you may treat him like your peer but he’s still your baby brother.”

“He knows I went to the hospital for a while because mom told him I was sick. That’s why he had the medical textbooks. He wanted to fix me when she said the doctors couldn’t.”

It broke her heart everytime he visted her and told her he found something new in his book. After a while their mom stopped bringing him, per her doctors orders it wasn’t helping her recovery to lie to him.

xxx

The next day at school, Sweet Pea intercepted her before she saw anyone else.

“So, what the hell happened yesterday?”

“What do you mean?” She kept her head down, not trying to break her grandmothers rules  less than twenty-four hours after she’d given them.

“I mean Toni said you left class and she didn’t see you for the rest of the day.”

“Oh, the office had some issues with my paperwork from my old school and I guess I just don’t have any other classes with her.” She lied easily.

“No, but you do have two more with me at the end of the day...” He said with a slight smirk.

“Oh, I uh left a little early. I needed to check on my brother.” She lied again.

“Ah, yes, the little medical expert.”

“Uh, yeah. He’s like an actual genius- reads the textbooks for fun.”

“Huh, he seems kinda young.”

“Yeah, he’s only ten.”

“Christ, I’m pretty sure at ten I was just annoying the girls on the playground.”

She let out and awkward laugh, “Yeah, that makes sense.”

The two continued to their first shared class but said no more words. When the bell rang Danika ran out of the class before he could even call after her.

Going through her normal day, turns out every class that she didn’t share with Sweet Pea, she shared with either Fangs or Toni.

xxx

Three weeks had passed. Therapy was boring as it always, chruch made her want to die on a whole new level, and group was just a bunch of other teens who didn’t want to be there, same as her.

Three weeks passed and every other day Toni invited her to hang out, maybe she found someone who didn’t think she was crazy. Or someone who just didn’t care.

It was Monday night of the fourth week that her brother finally spoke up.

“You’re never home but you never talk about hanaging out with your friends.”

“Uh, yeah I don’t really have friends.” Her grandparents looked up at her from their dinners.

“If I have to make friends, why don’t you?”

“Um...”

“I find it hard to believe that you haven’t made a single friend since you showed up,” Abuelo speaks.

Danika coughs, “Um, actually there’s this girl- she’s in a bunch of my classes, she wanted to hang out after school tomorrow.”

Everyone’s eyes widened.

“And you said you had no friends. If you had no friends, then who would ask you to hang out. Of course you can go! Just be home by a reasonable time.” Her grandmother spoke quickly, not letting anyone say anything to contradict her. She changed the subject quick too.

The next day when Toni asked if she wanted to come over, she agreed.

“Wait- really?”

“Yeah.”

“You’ve said no for like a month straight, why now?”

“Uh, I don’t know. My grandma is still not used to teenagers so she was being pretty strict about me going places.”

“Oh, well cool. We need to stop by my work before we go to my place but after that we’ll have fun.”

“Okay, sounds great, I’ll meet you...”

“By my bike. Sweet Pea can show you.”

Sweet Pea. She hadn’t wanted to, but they became so close so fast. She wanted him to know eveything about her and she wanted to know everything about him. But they weren’t close to that yet.

She wanted him to be everything to her, but knew that wasn’t a smart move. It wouldn’t only break several of her grandmothers rules, but a few of her own as well. Number one being, don’t let anyone get close enough to push her over the edge again. He was right on the border of that and it was an unsettling feeling, one she hadn’t felt in a long time.

[theshapeshifter100]

Guess What? I’m Not a Robot Ch39

Yeah, I’m late. So you’re getting a chapter today and tomorrow! Hopefully!

Summary: The gang sees Connor ton tv and the sees the Detroit evacuation first hand.

Chapter warnings: casual swearing

Word Count: 1,784

11.58PM Thursday 11th November 2038

A few minutes later, painkillers had been successfully taken and Megan was back on the couch.

“Are you sure you’re okay over there?” she asked Oscar, who had returned to sitting against the wall. “I can budge up if you want.”

“Sick and the injured get priority,” Oscar waved off. “Besides I wouldn’t fit on the couch.”

Megan grumbled a little but lay on the couch. The tv was still on, although the sound had been turned down. It was still showing the feed from the protest as androids were released from the Recycling Centre. They looked a little creepy with just the bare white exterior Megan had to admit.

“Holy shit,” Megan suddenly noticed something odd. The androids were on the move, and the camera panned over to show a massive group of identical androids, with one distinct android at the head of the column.

“What the...?” Paul stared while Oscar got up to get a better look.

Markus and the android at the head of the column met in the middle, and Paul squinted.

“What the fuck?” he could not believe what he was seeing.

“What?” Megan and Oscar asked. The resolution wasn’t great, so clearly Paul had spotted something that they had not.

“That’s the RK800-Connor!”

Megan blinked at the screen, squinting. It was difficult for her to tell, so she took Paul’s word for it.

“So, this could go really well, or destroy the entire revolution,” she summarised.

“Nah, Connor’s good.”

Everyone except Paul jumped and turned to see Lieutenant Anderson dressed in a loose shirt and boxers. Not a sight many would really want to see. The police detective had his arms folded as he nodded at the screen.

“He woke a bunch of ‘em up in CyberLife Tower. He’s not huntin’ deviants anymore.”

Everyone noticed Paul slump in relief, but no one mentioned it.

“So, is he a deviant now as well?” Paul asked uncertainly.

“Yup,” Anderson responded, popping the ‘p’.

This was when Paul’s radio flared into life.

“This is Rainbow3. Anyone watching the news? Over.”

Anderson raised an eyebrow as Paul answered.

“Beep Boop here. We just saw it. Over.”

“Did you see who was at the front though?” Lucas asked.

“No, what the hell’s going on?!” Ivy asked.

“The RK800-Connor, yes. We have confirmation that he’s a deviant now. Over,” Paul bristled as Anderson snorted with laughter at that.

“From who?” responded Lucas. “And I’m guessing you two haven’t made it there yet? Over.”

“...No,” Ivy admitted. “Seems like there’s no point. Heading back. Who’s your informant? Over.”

Anderson outright laughed. “Whatever, you can tell yer little Scooby Doo gang.”

Paul did just that. “Lieutenant Hank Anderson. Over.”

“Wait, what?!” Julia had clearly taken the radio off of Maggie. “How? Over.”

“We, may have, broken into his house,” Paul admitted, and Megan interjected while the talk button was still down.

“We didn’t break anything! The window was broken when we got here!”

There was a pause from the radio.

“Great way to avoid suspicion there Nervousness Incarnate,” you could almost hear Lucas rolling his eyes. “Fuck we’ll deal with this in the morning. If he’s still there ask him about him AAA Battery, provided there isn’t a gun to your head.”

“You think Nervousness Incarnate would put up with that after earlier?” Paul responded wryly.

“Five feet of fury,” Ivy snickered.

“She can bite his kneecaps,” Maggie joined in, and Megan leaned to snatch the radio from Paul.

“I hate you guys.”

“Guys enough,” Julia came back on. “It’s midnight, let’s call it a day already. We all got somewhere to sleep? Over.”

“Yep. Over.” Megan responded, and was greeted by another affirmative from Lucas’s group.

“Let’s see if we can meet soon. Over and out,” Julia ended the conversation and Megan handed the radio back to Paul.

“So, what are you guys, exactly?” Anderson asked. “Some kind of android rights group?”

“That is exactly what we are,” Oscar rumbled.

“Huh. Well good for you,” Anderson huffed. “And who the fuck is AAA Battery?”

“Alex, our, I suppose leader,” Paul thought. “They and Allison could be joint leaders I suppose, along with Julia.”

“Right, and I assume this Alex got arrested?”

“Yes,” Paul confirmed. “Short green hair, bright clothing, general androgynous appearance.”

“I haven’t seen ‘em,” Anderson shrugged. “Now fer the love of God, go to sleep!”

The detective stormed off and Oscar switched off the tv. Megan got settled on the couch, making sure to stay on her back or right side. Oscar slumped against the wall and drew his knees up to rest his head on them. Paul stood in place for a second before switching off the lights.

He stood in the dark, watching them fall asleep. He could go into stasis he supposed, although he wanted to stay alert. They weren’t out of the woods yet.

Paul stood vigil all night, watching the snow fall outside the window.

07.30AM Friday 12th November 2038

As dawn began to break he shook Megan and Oscar awake. Oscar was awake almost instantly, although Megan groaned and mumbled something about ‘five more minutes’.

Without wasting another second he picked her up, and she was clearly tired as she only half heartedly objected.

Oscar opened the door and they stepped out in the fresh morning. Oscar swore and rubbed his hands together before stuffing them into his pockets. Megan burrowed deeper into the blanket, taking full advantage of her position to avoid the cold at all costs. Paul noticed the cold, but overall it didn’t bother him.

“So, where to?” Oscar asked.

Paul paused, sifting through the options. They didn’t know where Lucas and Nathan were. Allison was either still wandering towards the android camp or had given up and headed back. Alex of course was at the police station. That left Julia’s group, who were at her house.

“Do you know where Julia lives?” he asked Oscar, who shook his head. “Megan?”

“No idea,” she mumbled. “I don’t think it’s that far from Alex’s.”

“That doesn’t help,” Paul sighed.

“We couldn’t have discussed this in the warm?” Oscar asked, stamping his feet to make sure that they didn’t get too cold.

“I’d rather not test the Lieutenant’s patience.”

“So, we have no idea where to go?” Oscar asked, Paul reluctantly nodded. “What about going to the androids?”

“We don’t know receptive they are to humans right now,” Paul shot down.

“How about we go to a mall or something?” Oscar suggested. “We’re freezing out here!”

“It will give us a temporary goal if nothing else.” Paul nodded, recalling where the nearest mall would be. It was a bit of a hike, given that this was a residential district, but it was doable.

As the sun rose higher Paul made sure Megan started walking.

“It’s cold!” she protested.

“You have a blanket!” Oscar snapped in a rare show of temper. “What have you got to complain about?”

“Lack of functionality in my left arm!”

“Both of you, enough!” Paul barked, restoring order. “Nothing about this is great. Let’s just get somewhere warm and plan from there.”

Megan and Oscar glared at each other for second before following the android. Given that dawn was pretty much half seven, they expected businesses to be opening. Instead, the streets of Detroit were full of people getting into cars with large suitcases and driving off.

“What the hell is going on?” Megan asked, and Paul flagged down a nearby couple trying to shove a suitcase into the back of their car.

“Hello, sorry to bother you,” he started, and the one shoving the suitcase in grunted to acknowledge that he was there. Their partner on the other hand, was a bit more amicable.

“What’s up?” they asked.

“Er, we’ve been out of the loop. Where is everyone going?”

“Detroit is being officially evacuated,” the gentlemen helpfully informed. “Given the androids taking the city the military have retreated and are basically letting them have Detroit.”

“I see. Thank you very much,” Paul dipped his head in thanks.

“No problem, if you and your guys need a ride out of Detroit then I’m sure there’s room for you.”

Paul looked at their small Sedan and Oscar’s bulk. No contest.

“Thank you for the offer, but we’ll be fine. Thank you.”

Paul went back to the other two and relayed the news.

“The whole city?” Megan asked, incredulous.

“Sounds like it. I’ll call the others,” Paul reached for the radio and walked as he talked. Most people were worrying more about themselves than some guy with a radio.

“This is Beep Boop. Anybody else know about the evacuation order? Over.”

“Reading you Beep Boop,” Julia was online. “It was on the news this morning and all over the paper. My parents are packing up, but I’m going to stay here. Over.”

“I thought these orders were mandatory. Over.”

“We all know that the androids pose no threat. Besides, half of Detroit ignored a tornado evacuation once, this is nothing in comparison. Over.”

“Is everyone staying? Over,” Paul posed the question.

“Ringo’s in student accommodation, and they’re doing checks to make sure students are gone,” informed Lucas. “We’re going to move to my apartment.”

“Poison Oak and Rainbow3 will stay with me,” Julia informed.

“Any sign of Biker Chick?” Paul asked, and a bleary voice answered.

“Yes, I made it back an hour ago,” Allison responded, voice thick with exhaustion. “I didn’t make it to the protest in the end. It would have been all over anyway.”

“Alright. Get some sleep and my group will work some things out. Over and out,” Paul clipped the radio back to his belt. Oscar and Megan had both overheard.

“I’m in student accommodation,” Oscar admitted, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Well then,” Megan took a deep breath. “Looks like we’ll go to mine then.”

“Megan, your apartment is tiny,” Paul reminded.

“It’s better than nothing,” Megan declared, and Paul could just detect a nervous habit under the blanket. Even with a sling, she was finding a way to pick at her sleeve.

“It’ll be a long walk,” Paul added. “It took us several hours on the way to Alex’s.”

“Well, we won’t be dodging the military this time,” Megan responded with some optimism, and Paul had to agree.

They made it to Megan’s apartment building without any issue. All military personnel had been withdrawn and most people were leaving the city like it was a sinking ship.

People were still exiting the building when they made it there, but few people were taking the stairs. So they didn’t have to push through a crowd of people to get to Megan’s floor.

So, we're done with Hank Anderson for the time being, his appearance short but sweet, although we haven't seen the last of him yet. Honestly he probably would have let them stay a bit longer but Paul didn't want to risk anything. Since none of them have any idea of the stuff that happened in Connor's story they have little reason to actually trust Hank.

Also, imagine being in Hank's position, having a pair of college students and an android hiding your house and using cumbersome code names and being all serious about it, that would be pretty funny in his position.

Other Options Flowchart

(Paul) Ask Hank how he knows Connor is okay.

(Megan) Don't interject.

(Paul) Suggest going to Megans. Suggest Alex's. Suggest hiding.

(Paul) Agree with Oscar about going to the androids.

(Paul) Chastise Megan. Tell on Oscar.

(Paul) Ask the people dragging a suitcase from their house. Pick up abandoned news tablet to read.

Tags! @nightmarejim @septicart-appreciation

[bughead-fic-request]

Okay I finally have a prompt for another straight-laced Jughead, if you're interested (I sent you that one ask about if you plan to write more). I think it would be super cute if class president, valedictorian-bound, Ivy League aspiring Jughead loses his poise and eloquence around his shy lab partner/not-so-secret crush, Betty Cooper. Except she's totally oblivious and completely enamored as well and he plucks up the courage to ask her to homecoming maybe?

Weird Science - Part 1

Summary: Popular golden boy Jughead Jones has the eyes of every girl at school on him, every girl but one, perpetual loner Betty Cooper.  

Words: 2,727

Warnings: Swearing, kissing, making out. 

A/N: This isn’t exactly like you request @gay-for-rey1999 but hopefully you are still happy with it. I edited this myself so there will be errors. This feels like hardcore role reversal and I kinda like it. This is also on AO3. I’m hoping part 2, the date, will be ready tomorrow or Friday. Hope you all like it. 

Jughead Jones was Harvard bound. He was student body class president, head of the model UN, president of the debate club, captain of the Riverdale hockey and lacrosse teams and was the most popular guy in school. Jughead was just that type of person people were drawn to. He was a genuinely nice guy, didn’t subscribe to toxic masculinity and always tried to do the right thing. He volunteered at the Riverdale animal shelter, tutored elementary school kids and helped out at a soup kitchen when he could.

To add to his intelligence, kindness and athletic prowess, Jughead was also good looking. He was 6’1, broad shoulders with an athletic build from all the sports he played. He had a dazzling smile, sexy black hair with a slight curl and piercing blue eyes.

Every girl at Riverdale High had a crush on Jughead Jones. Every girl but one.

Betty Cooper was the student body treasurer, a member of the debate club and the model UN. She was sharp as a tack and the one Jughead was always competing against for top GPA. She spoke in clipped sentences and never attempted to make small talk but she could argue like nobodies business. He never caught her staring at him or making the googly eyes like the other girls would. Betty Cooper came to school, aced ever test and essay, attended every meeting of every club she committed to and then went home.

She didn’t have friends or people she sat with at lunch. She sat alone in the far corner of the cafeteria, reading whatever book she was checking off the 100 Greatest Books list that week, occasionally people watching if the mood struck her. Her sunny blonde hair which hung around her shoulders in waves and her vibrant green eyes should have given off a welcoming feeling but her permanent scowl kept people away. If that wasn’t enough Betty only wore black. Black Doc Martins, black ripped jeans, black t-shirts and tank tops and always her black leather jacket.

Betty was smart as hell, the most beautiful girl in most rooms and intimating as fuck and from what Jughead could tell, that was just the way she liked it.

Jughead didn’t know when his crush on her began but his heart raced every time she walked into their chemistry class or when she showed up for debate club. He always asked her to speak because he loved hearing her voice but never chose her to lead the team so no one would catch on. He started thinking about her all the time, when he was in school, when he volunteered, when he went to bed and even when he would pleasure himself. He told no one. It was a secret he had been carrying around for a long time.

Jughead had only seen her speak to one person at length and that was her neighbour and his friend, Archie Andrews. They walked to and from school every day and Jughead wondered if the reason Betty showed no interest in him was because she was with Archie. Jughead was quick to dismiss this theory because Archie was with a new girl everyday of the week. Betty didn’t seem like the type of person who would put up with that.

The first true interaction Jughead ever had with Betty outside of school was when he was at Archie’s house. He was helping the redhead study for an upcoming English exam.

“I don’t understand why we need to know anything about Macbeth and his dad and why you shouldn’t say Macbeth in the theatre. It’s all stupid.” Archie complained falling back on his bed clearly giving up.

“It’s to help your analytical skills.” Jughead explained.

Archie pushed up on his elbows, shirtless and in the dark jeans he had worn that day, and looked at the dark haired boy blankly.

Jughead sighed. “The teachers need to know if you understand what you’re reading.” He explained.

Archie sighed and stood. “Whatever, I’m gonna get some sodas and Pop Tarts. You want some?” He asked.

Jughead nodded and stood too, stretching his legs and straightening out his jeans and Under Armour t-shirt. He strolled around the room looking at all the posters and photos that hung from the walls before walking into a little nook with a window. He turned to look out it realizing it faced Betty’s bedroom. He knew it was Betty’s bedroom because she stood with her back to the window as she began to undress.

Jughead’s eyes widened as he made many movements at once, not knowing exactly what to do. He started to crouch which turned into him turning his back on the window which led to him walking out of the nook. This was the right thing to do, he should give her some privacy, it would make him a creep, a peeping Tom if he continued to watch her. These thoughts didn’t stop him from walking back and taking another look.

Her top was off now and the smooth, toned plains of her back moved as she bent down to remove her pants. His cheeks flushed when he saw the underside of her breast as she picked up the garment. This was when she turned, suddenly, and Jughead was given a full view of her chest but this meant Betty was able to see him as well.

Both of their eyes went wide and Betty quickly covered herself and started saying something Jughead couldn’t make out but she was clearly yelling. In a panic, he turned and walked right into the wall behind him, hitting his head before leaving the nook. He sat back down where Archie had left him.

His knee bounced and his hands shook as embarrassment took over him. This was okay, this was fine. He would just apologize when he saw her next and everything would be fine. She would continue not to speak to him and he could feel a wave of unease every time he looked at her.

“Here you go, man.” Archie said, entering the room handing him a Pepsi and a plate with two nearly burnt chocolate Pop Tarts.

Jughead bit into the pastry and at the exact moment he heard the door slam downstairs. “Jughead Jones!” Betty yelled.

He started choking on his food and he watched the door for her impending arrival, he could hear her flip flops clomping up the stairs.

“What did you do, bro?” Archie asked with a smirk.

She burst in the room and pointed at him with wild eyes. “You!” She accused, walking towards him. “You little pervert!” She was wearing a periwinkle blue t-shirt, white shorts and hot pink flip flops. He had never seen her in so much color it made her eyes even more green.

Jughead backed away from her and raised his hands in surrender. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to! I’m a teenage boy and you’re all soft and beautiful and-”

“If you see someone changing, you just walk away! You don’t stand there and watch!” She crossed her arms and tapped her foot impatiently.

“It all happened so fast, I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” Jughead’s face was red and he was sweating.

Archie was killing himself laughing, rolling around on his bed. “Did Betty catch you checking out her goods? Dude, that’s so desperate, just ask her out like a regular person, you meatball!” He started laughing again.

“So how are we going to solve this?” Betty asked. “You’ve seen me, you got what you wanted, now what do I get from you?” She cocked an eyebrow.

Jughead’s eyes shifted from side to side. “Do you want to see my penis?” Jughead guessed and Betty huffed and rolled her eyes.

“No, Well,” she looked over to the side like she was pondering it but then shook the thought from her mind. “No, I want to be lead for the debate challenge next month.” Betty demanded.

“Yeah, okay. You are one of our best. You’re our lead.” Jughead sputtered out.

Betty smiled in satisfaction. “Good, well, I’ll see you around Arch.” She nodded curtly at her neighbour and glared at the boy on the floor. “Pervy McPervertson.” She turned and left the room.

Jughead took a breath and relaxed for the first time since he had been caught looking at her. He looked over at Archie who was still laughing.

“God, you are so pathetic, dude.” He wiped a tear away from his eye. “Do you have a thing for Betty?” He asked.

Jughead looked away from his friend. “Yeah, she intrigues me. She doesn’t seem to have the same motivations as everyone else.” He shrugged.

“Plus she’s super hot.” Archie pointed out.

“So hot.” Jughead agreed rubbing his face. “Did you ever go out with her?” He asked.

Archie shook his head. “We fooled around a couple of times but no. The spark wasn’t there so we gave up, no biggie. We’re just friends.” He took a deep breath. “But if you like her, just ask her out, you two make sense together. Give it a shot.” He suggested.

“After what I just did, I don’t think she’s ever going to talk to me again.” Jughead sighed.

“You never know until you try.” Archie pointed out while grabbing his book. “Let’s get this English nonsense over with. I want to play video games.”

Jughead nodded happy to do anything to take his mind off Betty Cooper.

The next day Jughead did whatever he could to avoid Betty. He took different hallways, ate in a different lounge and didn’t study in the library like he usually did during first period. No matter how hard he tried he couldn’t skip the Chemistry class him Betty had together and he dreaded every step he took towards the classroom.

He sat as far away from her as possible and kept his head down making sure he didn’t make eye contact with the blonde.

“Okay so were going to have some fun. Today we are going to make foam.” The teacher announced with no enthusiasm. Mr. Townsend was usually hungover but he seemed particularly bad today. “All the things you need are in the back. Take one of these handouts, all the instructions are there and please be as quiet as possible.” He pleaded. “Oh, Cooper. Jones. Your lab partners are out sick today, so partner up.”

Betty and Jughead locked eyes from across the room.

“Fuck.” Jughead muttered as he gathered his things and took the vacant spot beside Betty. “Hey.” He said.

“Hello.” She responded before getting up to go get a handout.

Jughead let out a deep breath and closed his eyes in annoyance. When Betty returned she asked him to fetch all the ingredients while she set up everything at their station.

He put his goggles and apron on and started measuring things out.

“So did you like what you saw yesterday?” Betty asked with a nonchalance that threw him off. He spilt liquid all over the bench which caused her to snicker.

“W-what?” He stuttered.

“You saw the girls, what did you think?” She asked tilting her head to the side.

“Your breasts?” He questioned, immediately feeling stupid for doing so.

She nodded.

He put everything down and looked at her. “I mean they are perky and a good size. They fit your frame, more than a handful but not wasteful.”

“Why thank you. I love hearing the word wasteful associated with my boobs.” She started pouring the first ingredient into the beaker.

“I said not wasteful.” He pointed out. “You have a very nice body, you must know that.”

“I do. You’re just really cute when you’re flustered.” She grinned and picked up the instructions reading over them. “You have to pour that into that.” She explained pointing at a small tube and then at the large beaker.

Jughead smiled at her and blushed. She thought he was cute. He took the tube and poured the whole thing in.

At this point, every other group was ahead of them. The ingredients were measured so it would foam just slightly over the top and give everyone a laugh. The only problem was, Jughead didn’t measure out the second ingredient so when he poured all of it in the foam shot up to the ceiling.

“Oh, shit.” He exclaimed trying to think of a way to make it stop. He knew the chemicals weren’t lethal and wouldn’t hurt his exposed skin so he picked up the beaker and started running to the sink to try and rinse it away. He did just that and the foam stopped. He sighed in relief and turned to look at the rest of the class.

There was foam everywhere, all over the ceiling, the floor, some of their classmates and all over Betty.

“Cooper! Jones! To the principals office, now!” Mr. Townsend yelled.

The two of them looked at each other and Betty put her head down, trying to hide her smile.

They walked to the office after Betty stopped at the bathroom to clean herself up.

The punishment was swift and just. They had to stay after school to clean up the mess they had made. They both agreed with little to no talk back.

School was just letting out when they were excused and they headed back to the classroom, stopping at the janitors closet to pick up cleaning products.

They put their goggles and aprons away and got to it.

“How are we supposed to clean the ceiling?” Jughead asked looking over at Betty.

“Mop?” She suggested.

He shrugged, took the mop and clumsily tried to clean off the foam that stuck to the tiles.

Betty started laughing, doubling over as she watched him struggle. “Stop doing that, you pancake!” She said finally running over to stop him. “That’s not going to work.” She grabbed a cloth, climbed on the bench and reached up. She wiped the foam off easily.

Jughead watched her as the hem of her shirt lifted, her stomach showing.

“Can you please stop ogling me and start cleaning?” She teased with a grin not looking down at him.

Jughead nodded and started mopping up the floor until it looked cleaner than he had ever seen the floors at Riverdale High. They both moved onto the benches, even cleaning the ones that had nothing on them.

“High five, Jones!” She exclaimed walking up to him with an extended arm.

He high-fived her back with a smile. “Why are you being so nice to me today? You were furious with me yesterday.”

“I was embarrassed. Considering we didn’t really know each other, I thought it was weird that you were just staring at me.” She reasoned. “Why were you staring at me?”

“Other than the fact that you were naked?” He chuckled. “I guess I’ve always had a crush on you. You’re smart, mysterious and  beautiful and you don’t seem to care about being popular or attracting a guy or partying all the time. You seem to live by the beat of your own drum and I really like that.”

He looked up and jumped when he realized she was standing right in front of him. She was smiling softly before she leaned in and kissed him. Her lips were soft against his and his hand went up to grab her waist without thinking, he pulled her flush against him. Betty wrapped her arms around his neck and they breathed each other in. They both smelled like cleaning products and cheap school soap.

They parted while Jughead fingering the ends of Betty’s hair. He had imagined his first kiss with Betty in a myriad of different ways but he never thought it would be in the back of their Chemistry class. It was sweet but hot, quick but felt like a lifetime to him in his head. The kissed dazed him and he couldn’t believe his dreams and fantasies were coming true.

Betty bit her lip seductively and looked up at him. “I’m gonna go home, get cleaned up and then you are going to pick me up at 8 and take me to Pop’s for dinner.” She instructed.

He nodded. “I’ll see you at 8.”

“You know where I live.” She gave him one last kiss and left the classroom without another word.

[optionalobjectives]

Prime Cut

You know what is all kinds of good? Getting out of the city, buying a ranch, rolling around in a new Dodge Ram blasting Blake Shelton’s “God’s Country.” Oh yeah. That’s the kind of thing that just doesn’t feel as good sitting parked in traffic on the way to K street in DC. Some folks in my profession are pissed that they either have to move out to Grand Junction to keep lobbying the BLM or find ways to schedule regular flights and split their time. Or they would, anyway, except they’re doing everything over Zoom these days. Not me. I sold up in Bethesda and plowed some money into a couple thousand acres in Mesa County. My commute is shorter, my sky is bigger, and I can roll all around my new property however I see fit. So I’m not in the center of power anymore. Big deal. The steakhouses in Washington might have more power brokers per square foot, but the beef is better out here.

And it’s not like I had to settle for some falling apart, tin-roofed shack, either. The new place is pretty recent construction - two stories, plenty of square footage, jacuzzi out back. Smoking room with a pool table. Built-in gas grill on the patio. A kitchen sizable enough that I got a personal chef a couple days a week just to make good use of it. A movie theatre where I can run my own damn screenings of the latest Christopher Nolan film or whatever else. It’s a shame Disney pushed back Black Widow, because I’d love to get a hold of a screener and throw a life-sized Scarlett Johansson up on the wall. She’s hot. Not hot enough for me to watch that Jojo Rabbit bullshit, but hot.

Anyway, since nothing new is coming out to watch in my new theatre, I thought I’d take a break from re-watching some of the Duke’s finest and walk my property. Give the Dodge a rest, and take an afternoon on foot.

So I’m hiking around, boots crunching on this sandy gravel, picking my way through some overgrown and dried out grass (which I should probably get a fire crew up here to thin out and burn), and I head up this gully. It looks like a seasonal creek, but there’s nothing running at this point. It’s right at the end of summer, heading into the fall, and it’s plenty dry. I know from the property map that this gully cuts into some foothills, but I want to check out the grade. Really find out what I’m working with in case I get a few head of cattle and one of them heads in this direction. If it’s too steep or too narrow, I might need to fence it off to avoid some trouble further down the line.

Luckily, this thing seems pretty much flat. The hill it cuts into doesn’t have much of a slope, and by the time the vegetation gets too thick the walls are only a little over head high, maybe six and a half, seven feet up. I figure that it’s worth climbing up to get a different perspective on the whole thing and check out the terrain. I grab into the hard clay of the wall, pull on an exposed root, and swing my right arm over the top. It looks like there’s a tree stump or something up there, so I grab a hold of that.

It crumbled in my hand as I grabbed it, which was inconvenient. What was worse was that it was some kind of anthill or termite mound, because as soon as the damn thing crumbled I could feel the bastards inside of it swarm all over my hand. I dropped back into the gully, barely avoiding sliding down on my butt and staying on my feet. My hand was already stinging, burning like hell, swelling up. Needless to say, I made it back out of the gulley in less than half the time it took me to walk up.

It’s about a half mile back to the house and, even with my hand in searing pain, I clear the ground quickly. Claudia should be around today to make dinner, and sure enough, I spot her Durango in the driveway. Bursting in through the door, I yelled, “Claudia! Hey, it’s an emergency!” She came running around the corner, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel and looking concerned, asking “What is it, Mr. Connoly?” I say it’s my hand, it’s been bitten by some local bugs, what kind I don’t know, and can you give me that towel. She walks me over towards the sink instead and gently runs some cool water over it. I can barely feel it, though, because of how badly my hand is burning up. It’s swelled up like I blew into one of the plastic gloves she uses when she’s preparing a spice rub.

I keep it together, but I’m still cursing and swearing, not at Claudia but at this whole stupid situation. She runs over to the freezer, asking over her shoulder, “are you allergic to anything?”

“No, not insects or anything that I’ve ever found out about. I get poison ivy, I guess, goddammit, nothing, uh, hey, thanks.” Claudia interrupts me interrupting myself, handing me a baggie full of ice cubes, wrapped in a kitchen towel. “So, Fred, listen,” she says, “That looks pretty serious, and I know you’re new to the area, but you have to know there are some venomous things out there. We should get you to urgent care or a hospital right away.”

“Yeah, fuck, I know.”

“Good.” She’s steering me away from the sink by my shoulders now, as I hold the cloth-wrapped ice-cubes. “Let’s get you into my truck. You shouldn’t drive with that hand or the amount of pain you’re in.”

“Yeah, okay, fine. Where’s shit,” I wince with pain, “where’s the closest one?” Claudia opens the door to her truck and helps me climb into it. “It’s probably the Redlands one. C’mon, let’s get going. It’ll definitely be faster to get you there one way, instead of waiting for an ambulance to come out here and drive you back to a hospital.”

We get going, Claudia tearing ass down the road. I tell her not to worry about any kind of speeding ticket or anything - I’ll pay any ticket or court cost at this point, and you could say I know a few good lawyers. I try and keep it quiet, and Claudia doesn’t talk much in the 15 minutes there except to continually check in on the condition of my hand. It’s holding pretty steady, with my fingers inflamed to something like twice their usual girth. Extraordinarily painful. I can’t move any of my joints much, everything is so swollen, so I’m just holding it, resting it on top of the wrapped ice. Sonuvabitch it burns!

Claudia screeches to a halt in the mostly-empty parking lot and helps me out of the car. We’re already making a scene, me cussing up a storm, Claudia practically carrying me over her shoulders. I’m blinking back tears as we move through the automatic doors and into the lobby. They take me in back quickly, seeing as I might be poisoned. Claudia says she’ll wait for me in the lobby. The nurse practitioner on duty, named James something-or-other, checks my heart rate, blood pressure, all that. It doesn’t seem like a snakebite or any of the more venomous spiders, at least. He says they’ll need to run more tests, but since he doesn’t see a stinger or anything to remove that the swelling will probably go down. He prescribes some prednisone, wraps my hand, and advises me to contact my PCP. I’m supposed to return if symptoms get worse or if any new ones appear.

My hand feels a little less like I’m sticking it into an open flame, at least, and is mostly hot and numb. I’m not feeling much when I touch anything with it, although I can feel the cold of the ice cubes. They charge my insurance a ton for a few more fancy ice packs, and I head back into the lobby to sign paperwork. Or attempt to sign it, anyway, since I can’t really write anything. I ask if they have some digital way of signing things, or if they can send it to my secretary, and then I remember to call my secretary and cancel appointments for a few days.

Claudia drives me back home and makes me some kind of soup in a hurry. Then she finishes the salmon she had in progress even though it goes straight into the fridge. It’s for tomorrow, she tells me. After I hear her close the door on her way out, and hear her truck’s tires slowly crunch the gravel at the end of the paved driveway, I drift off watching some tennis replay on ESPN.

When I wake up, the stream has ended and my TV is sitting dimly on some menu screen with a bunch of recommended “30 for 30” documentaries. Something smells incredible, and my stomach rumbles. It’s hard to describe. A meaty, seared smell, like finished pit barbecue. Or the first sizzle of a steak hitting a searing hot pan, salt and fat and high heat. God, it’s irresistible. I lurch off the couch, and head into the darkened kitchen. It smells like Claudia came back - maybe she started some ribs in a slow cooker or something, just to make sure that I had food prepared for the next day or two. The clock reads that it’s about 2:30 in the morning, so that seems unlikely, and everything is off. I’m checking the inside of the oven, putting my good hand over the stove to sense if there’s some residual heat, looking inside the refrigerator, but there’s nothing new, just the platter of salmon.

I switch the lights on. That’s when I notice that the bandages on my hand are soaked. They feel looser, too, but they’re a concerning light pink, mixed with some yellow. It’s like blood and pus saturated the wrap all of the way through. There’s no way it’s good to keep that kind of thing on.

It doesn’t seem right to unwrap that in the kitchen, so I head into the bathroom. The delicious aroma comes with me, without fading at all as I traverse the house to the downstairs master bath. I find the end of the wrap and start to peel it off, and I catch a big waft of something amazing. Just fresh cooked meat. I speed up, which has the effect of squeezing juice out of the bandage and into the sink. It’s mixed with bits of skin, which swirl down the drain. I get the whole thing off in a flash.

I stare at my hand. Who wouldn’t? It’s gone down in size, but it’s raw as hell. And completely pockmarked up and down with tiny holes. No maggots, no worms, no sign of anything except that it looks like dozens of small openings all up and down, front and pack, each dripping with fluid.

The sight should turn my stomach, but instead it rumbles. I’m famished, ravenous. I can’t tell you how good this smells. It’s more than a smell, it’s a goddamn aroma.

I lick my hand. At first I hesitate, like I’m about to touch my tongue to a dish that just came out of the oven. I chuckle a little bit, imagining a waiter saying, “careful sir, don’t touch the plate, it’s hot.” What the hell am I doing.

What the hell am I doing.

It tastes good. It’s like the seared edge of a filet, perfectly seasoned. Maybe some brown butter, maybe some truffle. Rich. Dry aged. Tender.

I pull back, staring at my hand, waiting for something to fly or crawl out of it. But nothing happens. It’s just me, the aroma, and the aftertaste.

Have you heard about how much closer a shave you can get with a straight razor? I switched a few years ago and I’ve never looked better and never looked back. It’s such a clean feeling, sharpening the blade and then running it gently, and at just the right angle, across your face and neck.

There’s my razor, right there on the counter. I grip it lightly in my left hand, not my usual grip, but I can make this work. And I’ll tell you, I’ve never managed such thin slices before.

[audreysl0ve]

Signed Sealed Delivered: Jealousy

Written for a prompt SSD: Robin is jealous (actually ended up filling at least one other prompt too).

And okay, you guys know that my fics are usually a bit raunchy but i’m letting you know that this is VERY raunchy.

Thanks SO MUCH to everyone for keeping me going on this fic and telling me not to delete all the porn and make this PG rated. @somewhereapart, @repellomuggletum15, @the-alpha-incipiens, @starscythe, @brookeap3, you guys are the best.

special thanks to bea for being my beta, and to Jen for great sex toy advice, lol. The toy featured in this fic is the womanizer and everyone should have it.

He hadn’t been snooping. Truly.

He’d just been using her computer to check his email, just to make sure nothing pressing was happening in that full week between Christmas and New Year’s. He’s taken the whole week off after Christmas Eve, and despite it being a verryyy last minute vacation, his employer had understood, assuring him it would a slow week, and it would be unlikely any clients would call with pressing needs. Besides, as his boss Carmella had conveyed, he needed another mini-honeymoon with his wife.

So he had just been reading over his emails, calming any anxiety about his impromptu holiday. And then the chat window had appeared out of nowhere.

Hey, beautiful. Long time no chat! I texted you but I didn’t hear back. Just checking— are we still meeting next week?

His breath is still caught in his chest, heart still racing as he pours over the message for the fifth time..

He shouldn’t click that chat — he really shouldn’t. But he does anyway, because he’s a weak, sad little man.

It takes him to Regina’s profile.

He can’t breathe. Good god on high, she’s so bloody beautiful in the photos she picked. It’s nothing sexy, just these very natural, candid shots of her — two of which he can remember taking himself — and she just looks, well, perfect.

Roland is not pictured on her profile but she mentions him, and the fact she’s a package deal and those who cannot love children need not contact her.

It seems this requirement has done nothing to take down the amount of suitors, however.

He should not be looking, but he’s so hurt and scared, he can’t help him himself. He goes to her inbox and checks recent messages. Of course her page is full of messages from men. Of course it is.

He swallows down the bile rising up his throat as he reads messages from men to his wife, his, dammit.

It cuts deeply, and it’s terrifying. He knows Regina is a catch, he’s never lost sight of that fact.

But these men, some of them aren’t really bad men (he shouldn’t be looking, shouldn’t be looking at this). They are good looking professionals. Doctors and engineers and architects, a vice president of a large tech firm… wealthy men. Powerful men.

Men who might be able to give her a better life than he can.

It’s strange, though. She doesn’t reply all that often. He can see a day or two where she responded to a couple of men, with something short, but there are no long conversations (he should not be looking at this, should not at all, the voice repeats in his head like a dull drum beat he’s set on ignoring, apparently). She’s very selective. But there are a few men she’s responded to, and this guy who recently messaged her appears to be one of only a handful that she’s ever written back. Someone she talked to quite a bit (he sees the string of messages and resists reading it and pouring through every last word).

Robin snoops on this guy’s profile (his name is Andrew, but the man doesn’t deserve a name at all in his opinion).

This is a man who, he recalls, has Regina’s phone number, fuck, she trusted him that much. He’s a pediatrician who works in the city and lives in Mclean, Virginia. He’s has dirty blonde hair and these bright blue eyes and has a six-year-old son of his own.

Robin hates him. Hates him, despite the fact that on paper they seem like they would get along just fine. They both enjoy rugby, a good lager, and activities Robin has come to enjoy in the states like whitewater rafting, skydiving, and mountain climbing. And he loves his family, two brothers and a very loving mother and father who love their grandchildren.

He thinks of his wife going on long camping weekends, his child playing with this guy’s child, and it’s enough to send him into a mini-panic attack.

He almost lost everything.

Everything.

Almost, but he didn’t.

Right?

It’s been three days since Christmas Eve, and Regina and Robin have… been a little preoccupied. Each day has been filled soaking up every activity they can milk out of Roland, and quite frankly they have fucked each other into exhaustion every night (not that he is complaining).

They haven’t really talked too much about the future yet, besides the little talk on Christmas Eve where Regina made it clear she wants him to live with her. She made her choice, he knows she did. She’s not leaving him. They are together.

But some deep rooted insecurity inside him has him wondering why the ivy-league, all-American doctor with a mansion in McLean and a beautiful family isn’t a hell of a lot better than Robin. He won’t be able to afford that, he can’t give her first-class trips to Rio and Peru and Tokyo. He can’t give her a picture perfect family right out of a Hallmark movie. His family is broken and messy and complicated and not what she deserves.

And it sounds silly but he worries maybe she didn’t make the right choice.

He closes the browser and deletes the browser history, his mouth dry and his stomach flip flopping.

He should not have seen this. It’s an invasion of her privacy, and shamefully pathetic that he even looked at all. He should just pretend he never saw it, right?

He shouldn’t talk to her about it. He has no right to be upset or hurt. She did nothing wrong.

But frankly he promised her honesty and the thought of keeping this from her seems worse than confessing.

He’s still trying to work out what to do when she comes into the den, oblivious to what has just happened.

“Hey, babe,” she leans over to kiss his cheek. “Roland is out like a light.”

He swallows thickly, tries to put what he’s seen out of his head. “He had a busy morning,” he replies, trying to keep his voice steady and nonchalant. But she can tell something is off right away, raising an eyebrow and looking rather concerned.

“What’s wrong? Did something happen with work?”

“No, everything’s fine at work,” he says. He’s still sitting at her little desk, laptop opened to his work email. He shouldn’t tell her, it’s just going to start a fight, she’ll be so mad at him for this, and she has every right to be so, yet…

He takes a deep breath and turns to her, swiveling the little chair away from the laptop.

“I… uh, saw something I should not have,” he says, motioning back to the screen.

She looks genuinely confused, searching her mind for what he could have seen.

“A message for you popped up, and I know I shouldn’t have, but… I looked, and…”

“What message?” she asks. She sits on his lap and motions at the computer, and okay, this is a good sign. She doesn’t seem terribly upset.

He sighs and types in the address of her profile. He doesn’t look at her face, so he misses the way she frowns at the sight of it.

She takes his hand off the laptop and replaces it with her own, and checks her inbox.

“Oh. Andrew.”

He grimaces. He doesn’t like hearing that man’s name out of his wife’s mouth.

“Yeah…” Robin says dumbly, not sure how to voice exactly what he’s feeling.

She sighs and turns to him, looking a bit defensive as she reminds him, “Robin, we were broken up. And you fucked Marian. And at the time I thought you two were still dating and this is none of your—” she starts to get off his lap as she speaks, but he is a weak man and the idea of her leaving him is awful, so he reaches out for her, urging her to sit back on his lap. She does.

“I know, I know, I’m not mad at you and you had every right to move on. I mean, you have every right to… you still have that right.” His voice sounds high and pitchy, and he hates it.

“What are you saying?” Her head tilts as she stares at him half-annoyed, half-curious.

“I… looked at his profile,” Robin explains, holding his hand up as she stiffens and opens her mouth to protest, “I know, I have no right, but it happened so fast, and I just…” he shakes his head. “I have no excuse. But he’s a good man, it seems, with a good family, and plenty of money, and…”

She furrows her brows. “Are you jealous of Andrew?”

“Not just Andrew,” he says before he can think better of it. “There are so many guys who want you—”

“You looked at other messages?”

“No, I just… I saw them and looked at the profiles of some—”

That’s enough, it seems. She gets off his lap, putting her hand in her head as she walks away. He feels the loss of her immediately, and it leaves him cold and anxious. Shit, this is a mess. “You read those, oh god…” She sounds less angry than he expected more… upset. The way her cheeks pink and flush he’d almost swear embarrassed is the emotion she feels, but that can’t be it. She has nothing to be embarrassed about.

“I didn’t read them, I just…” He sighs. God, herself ’s an ass. “I visited some of the profiles of those you wrote back to but I didn’t read the conversations, I swear, and I’m not accusing you of anything, that’s not what that is about.”

“Then what is this about?”

“I’ve always known that you could have anyone you wanted, never doubted it for a second, but seeing it, it’s just…”

A shy smile spreads over her face. “Oh. I was quite popular on that site.”

“Of course you were,” he says emphatically. “You’re a catch in every way. And those are men who… they can give you things I can’t.”

She sits down on the couch, that smile splitting wider across her face. “You mean like a summer home in Tuscany and a six-bedroom home in an exclusive neighborhood right outside of D.C.,” she surmises.

He nods.

“When have I ever cared about that sort thing?”

Never. If she had cared, she would have married one of those men her mom kept trying to set her up with.

He knows this, he should know this, but hearing her say it brings him more relief than he would care to admit.

“You still deserve it. And I want to be the best for you.”

“You already are,” she assures. She walks back towards him and takes a seat back on his lap. “You give me things no one else can.”

She’s too good to him. She knows he needs affection now and she gives it freely, nuzzling into his neck and cuddling him as if he were a child (he is, at this point). His fingers skim down her back.

“Like what?” He cannot help but ask, insecurity bleeding into the question.

“Do you want to read the conversations?” she asks. “I feel like all jealousy you have will be gone if you read them. Though I’m dreadfully embarrassed of my flirting skills in text form.” She cringes, and so does he, but for different reasons.

Continue on FF.net

[toezi]

Who’s Ready for Seconds

After 65 year,,, A picture prompt requested by @kyeinthesky 

*inserts freeze frame* 

Yup, that’s me. I bet you’re wondering how I got here. Well, we better start at the beginning.

My name is Joshua Hong. I was born a healthy baby boy at 8 pounds 6 ounces and 24 inches long. My twin brother, however, was not as lucky. He was born crippled from the neck down. He had a 15% chance of living with the condition his body was in. But my father, a glass half full type of guy, imagined that 15% as the next greatest accomplishment in the field of medicine.

He became an infamous neurosurgeon during his mid-20’s. He himself advanced medical practices 20 years ahead of its time. But he was fired by at least 16 distinguished hospitals and banned from teaching at seven out of the eight Ivy League universities. He moved himself and our pregnant mom out to a small country town in Korea where he ran a back-alley clinic, performing mostly operations on neighborhood pets. What I failed to mention is that he was… well, eccentric. Completely insane. He was obsessed with the idea of artificially creating life and the works of the fictional Dr. Frankenstein. He seriously studied Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein as if he was cramming for this huge, 75%-of-your-grade final exam. He spent countless hours of his spare time studying the concepts of tree grafting and exploring just how far he could take this process across the biological spectrum. His first step into the mammalian world was experimenting on rats. He had meddled with some reptiles before, attempting to splice lizard legs onto snakes, or embedding the mucous glands of frogs into mice, just because he got a kick out of the mice obsessively trying to clean their perpetually mucousy fur. But once he started on mammals, there was no stopping him. He was insistent on working his way all the way up the evolutionary chain. He eventually accomplished his dream of altering the anatomy of the most evolved, intellectual species.

His first test subjects just happened to be my brother and I.

We were five. Jacob, my brother, had been completely bedridden for 3 years. His muscles had atrophied so severely that he could only control his neck. He was like a withered stalk of celery imprisoned by the weight of his comforter. So that’s why my father only salvaged his head. After years of preparation he was finally successful in altering human anatomy in the most grotesque and unexplainable manner. He merged the vertebrae in Jacob’s neck with my spine. My back is like a merging lane with two cars trying to get in at once. Except one car is annoying.

“He should have just gone for a transplant.”

“ShUT UP JACOB.”

He’s always interrupting. At least whatever inner monologue I share with you is safe from him. He may be sharing my spine but he isn’t sharing my thoughts.

“I don’t care what mom says, I’m the better head!”

“Jacob, I swear to god nobody cares. You don’t even have any hands to do chores with;  why would you be the favorite?”

Oh yeah, I should mention: After the procedure was completed and our mother found out, she threw a fit. She demanded that our father undo the procedure, but he explained that if he removed Jacob’s head he wouldn’t be able to reattach it to his respective body. Which wouldn’t have been so bad. Our mom was outraged and kicked our dad out. We haven’t seen him since. Thank god he was a skilled surgeon though. Who knows what would have happened if there were any complications after he left.

Enough about our sappy backstory; you’re probably wondering about the above freezeframe. Well, it all started on saturday morning. I had just picked up my good ole bud Mingyu and had walked to the farmer’s market with him.

“He wanted to get a churro and he never even got one!!”

“Jacob, it’s been two months. Forget about it already!”

Anyways. I should mention that Mingyu doesn’t know about Jacob.

“You never introduced us.”

“Jacob, stop pouting.”

In fact, nobody knows about Jacob

“I’m a very lonely man.”

“Jacob, I’m ignoring you for the rest of this story. Probably for the rest of the week too.”

You’re probably wondering how nobody knows. Well, I walk around in public like the grim reaper. Out mother sewed us a large black cloak on our 18th birthday, after we begged to go outside for the first time. Out mother was always the most worried about us and how the public might react to a two-headed man. And every trip we took outside, there never failed to be one person shouting-

“Hey, Quasimoto! Did you forget the directions back to your tower?!”

Mingyu glared at the snickering teenagers and looked back at us with a look of concern. “They probably just read Hunchback of Notre Dame yesterday in their English class.” he scoffed with a click of his tongue.

“I don’t blame them.”

“Josh! What do you mean?” Mingyu asked, the pity in his eyes burning a hole through my face.

“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m weird. I’m a weirdo. I don’t fit in. Have you ever seen me without this stupid cloak on? That’s weird!”

Before Mingyu could even reply, a scream broke through the already loud marketplace. I immediately ran to a crowd that had gathered in the center and pushed my way towards the front. A large man was beating up a much smaller, long-haired man. It looked like he was in one of the classic owes-him-money scenarios. I was about to turn away but there was something about the fear in the long-haired man’s eyes as he cowered on the floor, protecting himself from the punches of the other, that really kicked in my “root for the underdog” instincts. So i just… rushed in there… I pushed the larger man off of the other, sending him flying a few feet. Maybe having two heads somehow makes me stronger? Now the smaller man was bruised and bleeding and he looked like he was fading in and out of consciousness. So I picked him up and tossed him over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

“He’s a thin man; but, boy, was he heavy.”

“Jacob, I’m the one with the arms…”

Anyways. Tossing him over my shoulder knocked the hood off Jacob’s head. So my urgency to leave the crowd tripled and I jolted out of there *cue the freezeframe*,  elbowing past anybody who was in my way. I was running so fast I couldn’t even hear the gasps, comments, and screams from the people who had caught a glimpse of Jacob. I’m sure news will spread fast in this town…

“It’s always been my dream to be famous.”

“This isn’t the type of attention you want, Jacob.”

I guess the man beat this guy into another dimension because he was out like a light as I carried him 4 miles up to our home on a hill. The house looked pretty abandoned. But hey, my mom never worried about cleaning up since she never welcomed visitors. She wanted the house to be mine and Jacob’s safe space. This guy will be the first person outside of our family to set foot on this property in fourteen years. The last person was a postal worker that our mom chased off with a broom. Let’s just say that we get our mail at the post office now and there is a federal restraining order issued against our mother.

I had dressed this dude in a pair our pajamas and laid him to sleep in our bed.

“Why the hell is he grinning like that in his sleep??”

“Jacob, shhhh. You’ll wake him- oh. Wow. You’re right that is terrifying.”

He looks kind of like an angel…

“Despite the creepy smile, he’s hot.”

“JaCOB!”

After a few hours he finally began to stir. We were sitting at our desk when we heard a faint, tired “Hello?”

His voice.... Was beautiful…

I spun the chair around so I could face- I mean, we…

Oh Shit.

What is he going to think when he finds out he was kidnapped by a two-headed man? Luckily he was fidgeting with the collar of the shirt i dressed him in, giving me enough time to throw a blanket over Jacob’s head and around my shoulder.

“Why the hell is this collar so stretched out?”

“Ahh… We-I-I have a big head I guess haha.” I chuckled, quite nervously.

God, what is he going to think of me?

He looked up at me, completely bewildered. He probably already think I’m some freak with just ONE head.

“Who are you anyways?” He asked, avoiding eye contact with the giant, wiggling lump underneath the blanket.

What’s worse? If he knows I have a second head or if he thinks I have a huge, living goiter?

“Uh. My name is Joshua.”

“Jeonghan.” He smiled back.

I wish I could drown myself in that smile all day.

“Hey, lovebirds! Are you gonna introduce me or not?”  Jacob raged and squirmed underneath the blanket.

“Oh, are you a ventriloquist?” Jeonghan asked.

Jacob finally wiggled the blanket off his head. “God, at least you’re cute.”

“Uh- I-uh It’s kinda warm in here do you need me to turn on the fan? I-I’m so sorry…I didn’t mean to keep you here. You probably want to leave. I underst-”

“You-you think I’m cute?”

WHAT.

Not only did Jeonghan seem… comfortable? But he was blushing at Jacob’s snarky commentary?

“You’re not… freaked out? By us?”

Even Jacob seemed to be taken aback. He… wasn’t screaming? He wasn’t terrified beyond belief. In fact, he stayed calm, never breaking eye contact with us. Or rather… never breaking eye contact with Jacob…

“You know, you’re pretty cute too…” Jeonghan looked at his squirming toes and blushed. “I don’t think I caught your name?”

“I-I’m Jacob..”

“Jacob!” Jeonghan’s face lit up. The glow of pure joy that he radiated was breathtaking.

I couldn’t take my eyes off of him.

He couldn’t take his eyes off of Jacob.

And that’s how my second head stole the first love of my life.

[urwarriorangel]

dine and dash (stefan salvatore au ft klaus mikaelson, part xi)

Plot: You and Stefan dated for three years while in high school. You both thought your relationship would last, but college managed got in the way. So you two decided to break up. You left to college in Massachusetts and Stefan stayed in Mystic Falls. While you were gone, things changed between you and a certain original, but you hadn’t yet let go of Stefan. Now, almost six years later, you’re both invited to Bonnie and Kol’s wedding. It’s time for a reunion.

Pairing: Kol x Bonnie, Damon x Elena, Caroline x Enzo, Klaus x Reader, Stefan x Reader (mentioned), Stefan x Ivy

Warnings: language maybe? strong feelings

A/N: OKAY SO I KNOW I SAID I MIGHT MAKE THIS 13 PARTS, BUT I LOVE THIS ENDING AND WOULD LIKE TO KEEP IT THIS WAY. I know we haven’t gotten to the wedding festivities or anything yet, and I know I said I’d like to write about that, but I don’t know. this feels right. of course, the final say is up to you babes. pls read this and let me know what you think! (no gifs are mine!)

dine and dash~masterlist

Previously

“Alright,” you take a deep breath, calming yourself as you speak. “I want to apologize. I led you on for years, kept Stefan in my heart when I should have let go. You’re right, and it was foolish of me. I’m sorry, Niklaus.”

“Hey, hey,” he whispers, one hand reaching down and grabbing both of yours. “Look, that’s all in the past. You needed closure, and I should have been more understanding. I’d never been loved the way that you loved Stefan, I’d never experienced that love myself. At least not until I realized the depth of my feelings for you. Then I got it.”

“Nik,” you whisper his name apologetically, looking over at him and noticing a small smile on his face.

“I’m not done yet, love,” he whispers right back, pulling into the hotel parking lot. “I just want to say that you’re forgiven. I understand, I do. Now it’s my turn to apologize,” he slides the car into a spot and turns off the engine, sighing as his eyes meet yours. “I apologize for not telling you how I felt sooner. I apologize for saying the horrible things I said earlier today. I apologize for bringing Valerie into this whole mess. After everything we’ve been through, I can’t seem to shake you off. There’s not a single time that I’m not thinking of you. And listen, I know there’s no way that I can wipe away all the negative things that I’ve done, but I would like to try. If you’d let me, of course.”

“Klaus, I’d–” he places two fingers over your lips, not allowing you to answer right away. He just poured his heart out to you, he loved the pleasantly surprised look in your eyes and he didn’t want to forget that any time soon.

“I want you to take some time and think it over, please,” he whispers, leaning forward and placing a gentle kiss on your cheek before pulling back. “Come on, let’s go inside and see what havoc they’ve wreaked.”

“Caroline,” Bonnie whines and stomps her foot as Caroline makes sure everyone is in their designated rooms. “Caroline! Are you sure we--?”

“Bonnie you and Kol cannot sleep together the night before the wedding! You two have to stay in separate rooms, no argument,” Caroline raises her brows at Bonnie, daring her to do the opposite of what she asked.

“But the wedding isn’t for another week! Are you seriously planning on keeping us apart for a whole week before the wedding?” Bonnie gives Caroline puppy eyes and Caroline bites her bottom lip.

“Bon, I don’t know. I have to consult with Y/N, and then I can--”

“I heard my name,” you and Klaus walk over to the two girls, a few bags in each of your hands. “What’s up?”

“Well, Bonnie wants to sleep in the same room as Kol until the night before. I said I’d have to consult with you before giving her an answer.”

“Before I let you know my take, I have one question: where the hell is the maid of honor?” You scoff, looking around for Elena. “We’re making all the tough choices and she is--”

“She’s on the phone with the DJ, yelling his ear off. She also just got off the phone with the priest,” Caroline shrugs and you both make a face.

“You know what? She can keep doing that. Now, I think Bonnie staying in the same room as Kol is a good idea, at least until the night before the wedding. Then she has to stay in her room. What do you think Care?”

“I think that’s a great idea. While she’s with Kol, you can sleep in her room since y’know, um,” Caroline clears her throat and looks away from Klaus.

“Right, Valerie,” you whisper, shaking your head as you think of the conversation you and Klaus just had in the car. “Well--”

“Actually she’s gone. She left,” Klaus speaks up and you all look at him, surprised and confused and relieved all at once.

“What do you mean she’s gone? Where did she go?” You furrow your brows at him and he looks down, slightly ashamed to own up to his failed tricks.

“She went back home, to Paris. She only accompanied me to help me explain myself to you,” Klaus shakes his head, slowly looking up at you. “She’s got a husband back home, some well-endowed French architect. They’re our allies and she offered to help me. She thought that if I finally admitted my feelings to you, I’d be less prone to committing massacres.”

“I bet she didn’t expect my newly found bloodthirst, huh?” You chuckle, taking in Klaus’s nervous appearance. “Either way, I’m spending the week in Bonnie’s suite. It’s bigger.”

“And bigger is better,” Caroline mutters under her breath causing Klaus to turn a bright red as you and Bonnie laugh uncontrollably.

“Right, well I’m just gonna, yeah I’m,” Klaus clears his throat, dropping the bags and slowly walking away from you three.

“I’m gonna take the bags to their owners, you two gonna be okay here?” You pick up the bags Klaus left behind and lift them along with yours, cracking your neck as Bonnie and Caroline nod.

“We’ll be okay. You be careful!”

“Will do, Care!” You call out and drop all the bags in their designated rooms. The last bag belonged to Stefan. You approach his room with a small smile on your face, the smile falling as soon as you hear the yelling. Stefan must’ve told her about what happened this morning.

“You kissed her, Stefan! Who’s to say you won’t do that again, huh? Who’s to say--?”

“Me! I say that I won’t do that again. Ivy, please,” you hear Stefan’s pleads as you stand right outside the door. You hear how much it pains him to even think of losing her.

“You said you didn’t care for her, Stefan. That’s clearly a lie. This entire time, all you’ve done is follow her around like a lost puppy,” Ivy’s full out sobbing at this point, this morning’s actions taking more a toll on her than you thought possible. “I love you, Stefan. I can’t be with you if you don’t love me, too.”

“But I do love you, Ivy. I love you so much,” Stefan’s voice is coming out in choked whispers as you hear footsteps approach the door. “Please don’t leave.”

“Stefan, I--” You knock on the door and interrupt Ivy, unable to take any more of Stefan’s pain.

“Guys? It’s me, Y/N,” you whisper, secretly hoping they wouldn’t open the door. “Look, I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation. I know you hate me, Ivy. I get it. I kissed Stefan and I shouldn’t have. He’s not with me. I didn’t take your feelings, or his, into consideration when I kissed him. But I swear to you that’s all that happened. The only reason I did it was to get some closure. Our breakup happened so quick; I spent the past four years thinking about what could have been, pining over unresolved feelings. I came here and saw him with you, smiling bigger than I’d ever seen. He loves you. I just wanted the closure that he seemed to have found. I’m sorry, Ivy. I swear that this is my fault. Stefan and I care for each other, but it’s just platonic. I promise. Besides,” you chuckle, wiping away a silent tear. “I almost killed his brother, so you have nothing to worry about.”

You hear a couple soft chuckles behind the door, a few quiet apologies and declarations of love before the door is opened.

“Here you go,” you whisper and hand the bag to Ivy, your eyes meeting Stefan’s grateful ones as you smile at the couple. “I’m so happy for you both.”

“I still hate you,” Ivy whispers and you laugh.

“Understood,” you nod and turn away, the door shutting behind you just as it had all those years ago. But this time you got your closure. This time you had something else to look forward to.

The Other End of the Hall

“Guys,” Damon walks into Caroline’s room, desperate to tell his friends about what he’d just witnessed across the hall… only no one’s paying attention. “Guys?”

Damon’s greeting goes unnoticed yet again as the girls’ voice gets louder, now joined by Enzo’s take on the centerpieces and Kol’s question about chicken tenders.

“Will everyone shut up?!” Damon’s voice grows a few octaves as the gang quiets down and looks at him. “Ladies, we have this week planned to a T. Caroline, you made sure of that. Bonnie, this is your wedding. None of us are gonna let anything go wrong. Elena, babe please. We need you to be the sane one right now. Kol, no chicken tenders at the wedding. Although I may be able to sneak a few into the reception for you? And Enzo, it’s too late to change any details about the centerpieces. Caroline and Y/N will have your head on a platter as the main centerpiece. Speaking of Y/N--”

“Oh come on, mate!” Enzo yells and everyone joins him, completely ignoring Damon’s previous comments. The yelling is louder than before and it’s now accompanied by obscene hand gestures. So Damon does the only thing he thinks will get everyone’s attention: he gets on top of a table and cups his hands to the sides of his mouth to form an impromptu megaphone.

“Y/N FINALLY MADE A CHOICE!”

Silence.

The Beach

It’s a full moon, the light bouncing off the waves and the waves bouncing off your heels as you stare into the lake. You wrap your arms around yourself, a smile on your face as the wind gently kisses your bare shoulders and stomach. You hear footsteps approaching and you let out a content sigh, closing your eyes as he sits behind you and wraps his arms around you from behind. His face has made its way in the crook of your neck, a blissful look on your face as his stubble brushes against your jaw. You giggle softly, finally happy.

“Y/N?” You smile as you hear your name rolling off his tongue. “Is everything alright?”

“Everything’s perfect,” you whisper, nuzzling into him as he places a kiss on the side of your head. Everything truly is perfect.