#money heist background

[jerich0two]

Heard he was part of the mob in his prime...

Bonus monochrome newspapery version!

Maybe -- just maybe! -- this is my version of Overlord Angel.

[futilefangirl]

[berlin-daily]

[naomikozura]

Playing With Fire: Chapter 6

Jason Todd (Red Hood) x Fem!Reader (Criminal)

Trope: Enemies to Lovers, Forbidden Romance

Warnings: strong language, mentions of guns, drinking (all overage), tiny tiny tiny angst (if you squint), stealing/heist, illegal coding (meh barely a warning), not too many this chapter but lmk if I missed any!

WC: 10K

Summary: In the heart-pounding midst of a daring heist, you encounter him for the first time behind the mask. As partners in crime, the stakes are high—this job could reshape your future. But amidst the adrenaline and danger, a connection sparks, complicating everything. Will you emerge unscathed by consequences, or will you find yourself entangled in a precarious dance where risk and intimacy intertwine, forcing you to confront the true meaning of loyalty?

Series Masterlist

Chapter 5 || Chapter 7

The night was filled with people from all backgrounds, business owners, CFOs, CEOs, COOs, jewelry heiresses, stock brokers, even those who dabbled in international trade and shipments of luxury goods were in the room. Every person with any sense of power on the money side of Gotham was present tonight. You were wearing a gorgeous golden dress with fabric that hung around your chest and drooped over your shoulder, covering the gunshot wound that you’d received a week ago. The dress complimented your skin and hugged your figure perfectly. Every curve of your body hugged by the fabric, showing off your form in a delicate yet seductive and classy way. You had your necklace under the wrap around neckline, but wore the matching green earrings adorning and balancing the outfit. It was simple and perfect for the occasion. You had your hair up in a slick back ponytail, the length hanging perfectly, giving you a soft glowy look versus your dark seductive alter ego. You wanted to be seen as the charming, beautiful, supportive partner that worked with Calvi himself. 

Your heart was beating in your chest, pounding like a wild animal trying to escape from its cage. After weeks of preparations, the night was finally here. Ambushing and infiltrating Sionis’s business to make him crumble from the inside out. You hadn’t spoken to Red in a few days, his plan perfectly laid and seemed fool proof. One of the calls was ceased communication. It was the only way to ensure the plan would work in the end. You couldn’t be in ties with him since he had his own role to play which he had started before asking for your help. Befriend and gain the trust of Calvi’s business partner, Marcos. A powerhouse in Gotham’s elite. Working in foreign exchange, luxury goods, and security, he was almost as devastating as Calvi himself. Only he was more egotistical and cocky than Calvi was. He didn’t have the same charm or the same sense of formality. He was new money rich, everything spiraling and taking off after he created his security platform, Python. 

You finished applying your lipstick, fixing your hair and grabbing your designer clutch off the sink. You needed to play the part of being the daughter of a wealthy businessman, trying to cover your tracks so no one could wonder how easily you had access to Calvi and ended up on his arm this night of the Gala honoring him. Calvi already knew your background as you were able to create a false one that lined up perfectly with the daughter of a businessman who’d disappeared and gone off grid. The family kept it a secret so as to not be caught in a scandal, so you stepped in as the replacement and since you were a beautiful, young woman with interest in luxury goods, everything checked out. No loopholes, no openings. 

~~~

It was all selfish. It was personal. It was for your freedom. That’s what you kept telling yourself when you paced in the outskirts of the city, waiting for Red at the secluded location he’d embedded into the file for future meetings. 

Could you actually manage to pull something like this off? Was it all a ploy or did he truly believe this could work? 

“Y/n”, you turned at the sound of his voice. 

“Red”, you breathed, your shoulders tense. 

“You came.”, his voice had a hint of humor in it, but serious quickly took over as his body stopped only a foot away from you, his proximity sending you over the edge. He had a deep musk to him, a woodsy scent that filled your nostrils and made your veins flood with a sensation you couldn’t quite place. 

“How serious are you?” your voice was a whisper, but the intent was loud. You weren’t here to play games. You needed answers. 

“I’m dead serious about this, sweetheart.”, he replied. “I take you overlooked everything.”

“What interest do you have in the Blue Moon of Josephine that you need to steal it from the museum that Black Mask has under his protection?”

“It’s a hefty hit and a hefty payout. I thought you’d be the first to jump all over this.”

“It’s a suicide mission!”, you raised your voice slightly, your eyes slightly widening as you held back your confused frustration. 

“It’s your ticket out of here. It’s my ticket to a direct hit at that son of a bitch and getting closer to completing my work.”

Your eyebrows furrowed as you looked at him, your eyes glossy with emotion you couldn’t quite place. Was it anger, frustration, false hope, or a sense of trust that you knew you shouldn’t be placing in him in the first place? 

“You always seem focused on escaping this shit city, and now I’m giving you the chance and you’re doubting it.”

“I don’t want false hope.”, you clenched your teeth. 

“The evidence was all in that drive. You can see for yourself it isn’t false anything.”, he replied as stared at you intently, his focus on you as he waited for your answer. His silence made the air around the both of you fill with tension, there was more to it than he led on. You took a step back, not noticing how his close proximity had affected you. You needed to focus. 

“If you’re serious, if you truly believe we can pull this off…” Red noticed how you were overthinking the situation, his voice ringing out again. 

“I won’t force you to do something you’re not confident in doing.” 

You let yourself sit in the silence, his body still radiating heat and his hand on your chin to meet his eyes. You basked in his presence for a moment, snapping yourself out of the trance and looking at him intently. 

“No.”, you breathed. “I’m in.”

~~~

“Ready, my dear?”, Calvi stretched an arm towards you as you wrapped your hands around him and walked elegantly next to him. He was tall, around 6’5, even taller than Red. You were wearing heels so your height would be closer to meet his eye line, but you were still far shorter than the both of them. 

“Are we meeting any of your partners tonight?”, you asked softly, your eyes examining his face, his demeanor very relaxed and laid back. 

“A few, but only one catches my attention tonight. He has a new development and I want to be the first to have it.”, he mentioned nonchalantly.

“You look stunning tonight. I don’t know how you get more beautiful every time I see you, Vivian”, his breath smelled like mint, his natural scent overwhelming with overpriced cologne. It was almost too much for your senses, giving you a slight headache. 

“You clean up nice yourself, Cal. You sure you’re not holding back on me?”, you smiled as your words left in a flirty tone.

The two of you walked through the halls, taking in the cases full of jewelry spanning from rings, necklaces, crowns, bracelets, everything worth tens if not hundreds of thousands of dollars. Everything here was priceless. But you weren’t here for scraps. 

You moved around, looking at the well dressed statues that were clothed in beautiful custom gowns that were hand crafted by the best designers in the city. You admired them deeply and loved the complex colors and the reflection of the light making the diamonds, emeralds, rubies, pearls, all the jewels illuminate beautifully. 

Calvi followed behind but remained close at your side, allowing you to take your time as you moved through the entrance halls and into the main room, the music and the chatter of people filled the atmosphere. There wasn’t a single inch of the room that didn’t have a person standing in it. Servers, musicians, security, attendees, everyone was here. 

It was almost as impressive as the Wayne Galas. 

Almost. 

It was a grand hall full of beautiful, timeless decorations, the curtains reaching the roof and the chandeliers hanging around the room as the music played in a lively tune that allowed people to have drinks and mingle with one another. The attendance list was full of the rich, powerful people of Gotham, all having their own born right to be here. Many of the names on Red’s drive were old money, generations of wealth passed down through each new member. Others were self-made businessmen and women, they had gone from middle class citizens to the highest ranking in the city, making them more respected by those who kept a watchful eye on them. 

Calvi motioned towards the small bar area, walking over with you in hand as he ordered a glass of his favorite whiskey while you ordered your wine. You leaned into Calvi, reeling him in as he placed a hand on your waist, turning towards him as you smiled and lifted a hand to your face, brushing a small piece of hair back. How easy it was to have men wrapped around your finger and at your command. 

“Is that Calvi Calbera?”, you turned to be met with the very man you were anticipating the whole night. Marcos Maroni. The unknown son of Sal Maroni. Except here, no one knew he was a Maroni. He did well hiding his background from everyone in this scene. Only you and Red knew who he was, who he really was. 

“Marcos Morona”, Calvi walked up to him, shaking his hand and patting him on the back, laughing as they greeted each other. 

“Excuse me, forgive my rudeness, but who is this lovely lady?”, Marcos turned to you, his charming smile hiding the intrigue in his eyes not missing the way they darkened as they skimmed your body quickly. You would’ve missed it if you weren’t so good at reading men and their mannerisms. You stood from your seat, stretching your hand out towards him as he took your delicate hand in his broad, rough one. “Vivian Lancaster”, you said softly, batting your eyelashes at him, letting him notice your obvious observation of his movements. It would inflate his ego, just like every other man in Gotham who took a liking to you. You knew you were beautiful, you knew men gravitated towards you. It made your line of work easy, especially when it came to getting intel you needed from these men. Just like Calvi. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.”, he smirked at you before he kissed your hand and turned back to Calvi. “I heard you were looking for me. Wanting to take a look at my new software?”

Calvi let out a chuckle, taking a sip of his whiskey before setting it back on the bar. “I heard it’s better than Python. I want to see it and be the first to bid on getting the system for my trades.”

“You flatter me, Calvi. It is a good system, I worked with a programmer who is beyond my time and my years. I didn’t realize Bludhaven produced such intelligent people who worked in system informatics and security programming.”

“You can never underestimate people. Especially when you came from the same background”, Calvi mentioned calmly. The false life Marcos had made for himself was filled with the lie that he was completely self-made. A nobody that came from a small town in New Jersey and grew his skills and his company from the ground up. Yeah, right. 

“That’s why we have to take risks when it comes to new minds.”, Marcos rambled for a few more moments, a part of you anxious of when your partner would show up. He hadn’t made his appearance yet, you wondered if he was actually planning on coming or if all of this was just to get you away from him for another night. He had been cutting communication off for the past week so it would make sense if that was his reasoning.

“There you are.”, you looked up from your glass, you had zoned out and didn’t realize until Marcos snapped you back to their conversation. “Calvi, Vivian. I want to introduce you to one of my partners. His intelligence and deduction skills are far beyond anything I could ever imagine trying to find outside of Gotham.”

You looked behind Marcos, your heart stopped in your chest. Out of everything you expected tonight, from the risk of getting caught to the possibility of leaving empty handed, you could have never expected this. 

“Calvi, Vivian. This is Jason Todd. My partner in building my new security software and convincing me to take a risk on my programmer from Bludhaven. Not to mention the son of our beloved Bruce Wayne.”

Your lips parted from the shock. You were left speechless. He had dark hair that was slicked back neatly, exposing his face and making his jaw appear more sharp and defined than it already was. He was wearing a dark suit and a dark burgundy tie that made it obvious who he was to you. Only to you. His eyes were a deep, dark green that pulled you into a trance. His lips pulled into a charming smile, his eyes focused on your appearance as you noticed that same emotion in his eyes that you knew was in your own. Your face remained neutral, but you knew your eyes gave you away the second he looked at you. He was devastating, handsome, his eyes gentle and full of emotion as they took you in, your heart pounding in your chest while trying to remain calm. 

You felt time stop, everything around you had disappeared and the two of you stared at each other for what felt like an eternity. His eyes bore into yours, holding an unwavering amount of attention, skimming down your frame and drinking in every inch of your body. He dressed in a suit that fit him perfectly, made him look muscular, toned, and perfect. You’d wondered what he’d look like under it all, what it would feel like against yours, the heat rising in your body as the darkness in his eyes swirled into something more. Something you couldn’t quite place. You noticed the way his hand flexed slightly but quickly relaxed. You held his gaze for what seemed like forever until his smooth, clear voice pulled you out of your trance.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Jason Todd”, he stretched out his hand, letting him take yours and kissing the back of it. “What a lovely woman you have with you tonight Calvi.” Jason spoke, never taking his gaze off of you. You hadn’t broken eye contact since he waltzed in. 

“Vivian Lancaster. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”, you said, taking your hand back after noticing how he rubbed the back of your hand with his thumb. 

You felt your skin ignite on fire, his green eyes holding you gaze as a small smile tugged at his lips.

“She is beautiful. We’ve been working together for some time. Who knows what the future holds for us, right my dear?”, Calvi spoke as he looked at you, your eyes still under siege by Jason’s green ones. How did you go this long, never seeing his face, his eyes… he..

“Right.”, you snapped out of Jason’s stare when Calvi wrapped an arm around your waist, almost like staking his claim. You looked at his face, no emotion showing in his eyes and his jaw was relaxed. So why was he being weird?

“Calvi, let’s catch up in the meeting room before they start the auction. I’m sure Jason can keep Vivian company for a short while.”, Marcos said as he and Calvi said another snide joke under their breath and walked away.

You watched as they left before meeting Jason’s gaze again, your heart absolutely betraying you in your chest. He looked at the ground, his smile spreading across his face as he met your gaze again. He cocked his head, pointing towards the balcony that was on the other side of the room and you followed him outside, stepping into the fresh, cool air leaving your skin feeling relaxed as the soft breeze hit your warm skin.

“You clean up nice”, you said, trying to keep yourself from stuttering. You needed to focus on why you were here, not on how devastating the man in front of you looked. 

“I’d say the same to you. This dress really suits you.”, his voice was deep, suave, flirtatious, and it drove you absolutely insane. This was the first time you were seeing him like this, the first time you were on mutual grounds and he had this hold over you that you couldn’t shake. 

“So, Jason Todd.”, you said as you looked at him, that charming smirk playing at his lips again. “Son of Bruce Wayne, I thought this was supposed to keep a low profile.”, 

“It’s my real name.”, your eyebrows raised slightly, your head turning to look at him as he looked down at the garden, one hand on the railing. 

“Your real name? Seems believable enough.”

“It is. Jason Peter Todd.”, he looked at you, meeting your gaze again. 

“Do you really want me to take that seriously? Do you really think I am that gullible?”

“I know you’re not.”, he spoke again. “And, I really am the son of Bruce Wayne.”

You stared at him. The silence growing and the tension slowly getting thicker. You couldn’t believe him. He was pulling a prank on you. There’s no way he’s… 

“Why do I feel like you’re lying to me?” “When have I ever lied to you?”, he was right. Over the course of the past few months, he never lied about anything he was doing. He wouldn’t tell you complete thoughts, sometimes keep small tidbits of information from you, but lying? He never did that. 

“You’re Bruce Wayne’s son?”, you asked again, almost as if asking for confirmation of the truth once again. 

“Yes.”, at this point, he was full on facing you, his hands in his pockets as he stood tall over you. His eyes bore into your soul, almost like he was breaking apart every one of your walls and getting under your skin, making you burn in your dress.

“Does he know… that you..”

“No. He doesn’t even know I’m back in Gotham.”, he answered. 

Back in Gotham? Does that mean he left at one point? Where did he go? How long was he gone? Why did he leave?

“I see.”, you were at a loss for words. You felt like there was something about his background that just… left you wrecked. Why did you feel betrayed? Because he was a rich kid with a father who had all to Gotham in the palm of his hand? Did you feel deceived, did you believe he was just another vigilante fighting to make ends meet and he had no other choice but to enter this life like you had? Or was he just rebelling against his father?

You felt an ember of anger growing in your chest. You couldn’t look at him, couldn’t stand next to him. You just felt like you received the worst confession in your life. Jason Todd, son of Bruce Wayne, was the one trying to take out Black Mask’s business to take a shot at his money and make him miserable. A rich pretty boy was trying to take out one of Gotham’s most ruthless mob bosses in the city. He could get away with killing all those people because Bruce Wayne would convince the world it wasn’t his son, there was no proof either. He wasn’t known as Jason Todd, no one knew it was him. He was just Red Hood. The annoyance grew in your chest as you remained silent and lost in thought. 

Did you even have the right to get mad at him? He’d helped you so many times, could’ve killed you throughout the past few months. He hadn’t shown anyone else within the city any form of sympathy or second guessed killing them, so why you? More importantly, why were you so bothered by the truth of who he was? 

He owed you nothing. 

You forced yourself back to the reality of the situation: get the job done.

“We can head back to my apartment once we’re done, just to get out of sight from the guards around here.”, you murmured, your eyes scanning the room in practiced scrutiny. Your focus on examining each attendee before arriving was paying off, but there were still internal updates that could have happened in the span of the past three days leading up to the Gala. Your eyes turned back towards Jason, his eyes looked at you in a soft glance, his focus on your words and actions as you scanned the room. He hummed lightly before creating distance between the two of you, your slicked hair showing off your features in a delicate manner that left him soaking in the sight for a second longer before turning away. 

“If the blueprints are accurate and they didn’t move any of the jewels around, they should be located by the main entrance where the guests came in and every one can see them.”, his response was practical, focusing perfectly on the very reason both of you were here tonight. 

Your mind raced through all the details, recalling every base of your plan down to the nitty gritty. You had calculated everything, trying to remember the blueprints exactly. Your memory was borderline photographic when it came to jobs like these. “We can leave at different times before the speeches and auction. We hack into the security system and set the cameras on loop, reprogram the sensors on the cases but we’ll only have around 10 or 15 minutes to get what we need and get out before the sensors turn back on.”

“What if we move the cameras into a blind spot that's only a few inches to the left of the main hallway?"

Your surprise was evident. "How do you know there’s a blind spot?"

"Hacking into the camera system a week ago helped a lot. I took it upon myself to cover the bases for a plan B in case we needed it."

You couldn't deny his resourcefulness, but the revelation of his background left you on edge. His clear, confident voice contrasted with the dissonance you felt in your bones. Your perception of him shifted, your judgment clouded by this deal with him and the payout at the end of this suicide mission. 

“Let’s finish what we came here for.”, his deep voice rang out. Deep, smooth, not hidden behind distortion. He was clear, articulate, and it irritated you knowing his background. It’s like your entire opinion of him just… shifted. You moved around him, slipping back into the main room and finding your way through the hallways, leaving him alone while you carried out your part of the plan. 

Back in the main room, Jason felt a tug in his gut, watching you with his deep green eyes, never leaving your form as you walked through the crowded room. He swirled his drink before throwing back the amber liquid, the burn offering him a momentary distraction from the irritation growing in the pit of his stomach. He watched as a group of men swept their gazes towards you, his hand tightening around the glass as he buried the annoyance under focus. If there was one thing he despised more than Galas, it was the people. He hated the social scene more than anything, everyone in this room included with the exception of you. 

He’d noticed how quickly your body language changed at the mention of who he was, it left him with a strange sensation wondering if you’d really gotten upset at his identity. Your sudden change in attitude made him question if his true self would change your perception of him, if it would change your alliance and the results of the job. His jaw clenched as he snapped back to focus. Regardless of how much he wanted to contemplate his actions or breakdown your reaction, he had a job to do.

He slowly moved through the room, his body tall in confidence as he noticed some of the women staring at him, blushing as they whispered between one another. He couldn’t help but feel strange, he’d always been hidden in his brother's shadow, women never particularly liked him but now that he’s older he can’t help but notice how the attention has changed. It was a complete contrast to his past, used to be overlooked and now everyone noticed him. He couldn't care less about it though, he didn’t care about anything here except for a particular woman who just walked out on him. 

He exited into the hall, walking past several people and groups of businessmen, giving them a slight nod in greeting before continuing through the corridors. He had turned down a particular hall, one he remembered from his intel and the blueprints he’d downloaded for this very night. It was the main server room, he could get to any of the cameras and completely shut them down to make the night easier on both of you. He couldn’t plant the chips there yet, he needed to touch base with you first. 

He turned into the main hall, scanning through different bodies of people until he saw you in front of a painting in all your glory. He hadn’t admitted it out loud but the pang in his chest at how you were dressed tonight left him on edge. 

“Van Gogh.”, he spoke out as he walked up beside you.

“Yeah..”, you replied softly, your attention briefly on the painting before looking down in contemplation. 

After you’d left the main room, you walked through the halls with other groups and couples, seemingly talking harmlessly but then you took in every piece of information and camera angle to the best of your ability. You stopped to admire one piece in particular, a kick to the gut but when Jason placed a hand on the small of your back, you looked at him. To anyone else the gesture would have been discreet and simple, but between the two of you it carried weight - a silent form of comfort. All you couldn’t place if it was due to his reveal, or just the stress of tonight, but you knew he’d intended the subtle gesture as a comforting touch. 

He turned to look at you, his eyes softening before flicking down to your parted lips, your lipstick beautifully painted as he took into account every detail of your presence. His jaw clenched before he removed his hand, turning back to the wall and you turned your head, not letting the heat show on your face due to his touch. 

“It’s a beautiful painting.”, you looked up at him, turning and continuing down the hall. Jason had lingered behind a moment longer, his chest filling with a rush of emotion before following behind you. Now wasn’t the time to dig up hidden meanings and make sense of them.

Not now. 

There was only half an hour before the auction started off, even less time than that before speeches and dinner started. You and Jason needed to be quick, needed to plant the chips, hack into the security system, and return before anyone caught on to your antics. You nodded at him, silently giving him an unspoken confirmation to complete your individual tasks before rendezvousing back to the main hall.

You had carefully taken in every inch of the building, watching and taking note of everything that came into proximity. You had to get to the server room and set up the security system to a no detectable loop, ensuring the system couldn’t be traced back to anyone just long enough to get what you needed and leave. You navigated the halls in focus, quickly scanning through while keeping complete composure and even nodding at a few people who walked past you to lighten suspicion. 

You quickly hurried through the hallways until you backtracked, heading down a hallway that was more dim than the rest and noticing the nameplate next to the door. You stood a few feet away to stay out of sight of the camera, trying to have as little mess to clean up as possible as you examined the door silently. You played through every possibility in your head within seconds, trying to find the best route of action to move forward with. 

You were able to find an opening just a few inches from a camera, a minute blind spot but it was all you needed to succeed. You had been keeping tabs on the security system long enough to see the actual entrance to the security room was blocked off. It gave you the perfect in to pick the lock, place the chip, set pre recorded footage, and delete any footage that showed your and Jason's entrance into the event and anything that could put you as suspects. You needed 10 minutes to pull the whole thing off. 

You knelt down to the handle, inserting the pin you can tucked into your hair, and began to work on the lock. It was a simple thing even for being placed in an event like this. After a few seconds, the subtle clicks gave away the opening of the lock, turning the handle and pushing the door open.

It was empty.

That eliminated one concern you had. If someone was in here you’d have to get your hands dirty. 

You closed the door, walked over to the desk and pulled the chair back to sit in it. You overlooked everything quickly, taking in every angle of the event being monitored in high definition. You could see the main room, the hallways, the club rooms, the library, the fountain where the art and jewels were displayed, even see the entrance to the gala as well as the outside cameras. Everything was here all in 30 tiny screens. You smirked at yourself. 

They really knew how to cover bases when they needed to. No doubt they did an in depth review of every inch of the location to ensure tighter security. 

You quickly typed in a virus code, connecting your chip to the server and watching the file download. You glanced at the camera that pointed into the hall next to the room you were in. Still empty. A good sign but it also left you on edge. You needed to hurry. 

You watched the file download, turning green in completion as you quickly added it to the server and set the programming to start with the looped footage in 15 minutes. You needed to hurry and program your chip to delete footage from the past hour, coding it into the system as fast as possible. 

You froze at the sound of the handle of the door turning, your heart pounding in your chest as you quickly finished the code. At least if you were caught they wouldn’t be able to trace this back to you. You removed your chip and shoved it into the inside of your dress, replacing the pin into your hair as you moved away from the computers. 

The turning of the handle made you freeze, not wanting to take out the gun you had strapped to your thigh. You pressed your back against the wall, holding your breath as the door opened with a soft creaking before watching someone walk inside. A tall muscular figure walked into the room, probably a guard, you quickly rushed him from behind, feeling the turn of his body as the both of you slammed on the ground. 

“If you wanted to get on top of me, all you had to do was ask, sweetheart.”, your eyes snapped up to him, your body completely flush with his as his hands laid perfectly on your curves. You felt a heat rise into your face, the flexing of his fingers on your waist making you burn hotter. 

You pushed yourself off of him, fixing your dress and glaring at him. “You’re insufferable.”, you muttered as he smirked at you. 

“I planted my chips. We have 15 minutes.”, he rolled his eyes, ignoring your momentary frustration. “We need to move.”

He gestured for you to follow as both of you slipped into the hall and navigated through the ornate corridors of the building, blending seamlessly among the guests. You couldn't deny the rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins; working with Jason was like walking on a knife's edge—exciting, unpredictable, and dangerous.

You both moved through the corridor, trying to make your way back to the main room in time to make your rounds before moving into the final stages of your plan. You’d haven't thought about Marcos and Calvi, knowing they’d probably be preoccupied in the sitting room doing their usual sketchy business. You didn’t see them on the cameras during your search earlier, but yet again, the probability of a secret room with no surveillance wasn’t too far off from what would be considered a possibility. Besides, it was better if Calvi stayed out of the way, especially when it would make things far more exhausting having to manage him and this operation. 

You tried to focus, your head swirling with a hundred different thoughts but if you lost even a minute detail, the whole operation would go to shit. Jason seemed a lot more focused, maybe the years of practice or just being gifted with that skill. Either way, it made him a good partner in all things criminal, even if you wouldn’t admit it out loud. 

Slipping back to the main room, everyone seemed to be within the grand walls of the ballroom, either socializing or in the middle of the open floor. You and Jason both slipped through the crowd, trying to make it back where Calvi and Marcos had left you before the harmonizing of orchestra instruments caused you to come to a sudden halt. 

Shit.

You could not get caught in this right now, it would set your entire plan back. You grit your teeth before turning to find confirmation in Jason to get out of this situation but your irritation grew when you looked over at him. You watched him extend a hand towards you, your eyes widened slightly in shock as you hesitated to touch his palm.

He could not be serious right now.

His eyes urged you forward, showing the seriousness in reminding you of the role you had to play tonight despite the reminders it gave you of your past. You couldn’t raise suspicion. 

You slowly grabbed his hand, letting him lead you onto the dance floor as the orchestra played a simple waltz. You felt him get into perfect position, your body moving in sync with his. It felt like he was almost trained to attend events like these, he truly did commit to the part but then again he was the son of Bruce Wayne. You were sure he had more experience with Galas than you did.

You recalled the moments you spent living with The Family, forced into a position of learning how to waltz and dance in order to better fit into the mold of their image. You didn’t mind it too much but you found it redundant, tiresome, tedious. 

Jason’s body moved in sync with the orchestra music, his movement smooth and in pace. You could barely keep up with him as he twirled you around before bringing you back in, your chests meeting each other as you sucked in a silent breath. You felt his breath slightly on your lips, your eyes meeting his as your faces hovered only inches from each other. You held his gaze as you saw an underlying burning in his eyes, they were dark and hazy almost like he was a man starved. You breathed, your lips parting as your eyes flickered down, focused on everything that had to do with him and nothing with the reason why you were here. 

You felt paused in time, like only you and him existed in this moment. Everything faded into nothing as the orchestra continued to play the waltz as it blurred into the background. You watched as his head tilted a millimeter, barely but enough to notice at the proximity you were at. His eyes flicked to your lips for a split second only to meet your eyes again. His body heat burned your skin, your pulse skyrocketing into a pounding sensation and slightly praying he couldn’t feel or hear it. His face was too close, his lips just a breath away from touching yours, everything in him burning at the proximity. 

The clapping from tonight's attendees broke you out of your trance, forcing you out of the moment you shared with Jason and snapping you into reality. You blinked, stepping back as he removed his body from yours only to give the traditional bow and walk away. You watched as he headed to the bar, your eyes looking around at everyone going back to their conversations and ignoring the people on the dance floor. 

What was that?

You felt a pang of emotion in your chest, your irritation brewing as you walked over to the bar where you watched him order another drink and down it in one go. You stood next to him, your heels helping you meet his eyeline as you tugged his arm back and forcing the green eyed man to look at you. 

“What was that?”, you whispered in a sharp tone, only loud enough for him to hear you. 

His hooded eyes looked at yours, he looked exhausted or maybe just drunk but you couldn’t bring yourself to care at that moment. Whatever was going on with him internally he needed to figure out outside of this mission before he ruined everything. Your eyes narrowed at him as a half-assed smirk appeared on his lips. 

“I’m keeping appearances, wasn’t that the plan?”, he said lazily, his demeanor completely changing. This wasn’t his usual act, so why was he putting it on?

“You’re going to blow our cover.”, your spit through clenched teeth. “You’re going to ruin everything.”

“I think we both know that’s not the reason you’re upset, sweetheart.”, he retaliated. 

“That wasn’t keeping appearances, Red!”, you whisper yelled at him, the burning in your eyes growing stronger as he stood upright. 

“Maybe not.”, he shrugged, his voice carrying a hint of something you couldn’t quite place. His eyes flickered with an unreadable emotion. 

You took a step closer, your voice a low murmur laden with urgency and frustration. "We have a job to do. This isn't about personal feelings or playing games."

“Yes, Ma’am”, he did a mocking salute before looking over your shoulder. “Let’s just get this over with.” 

Why did he become an asshole all of a sudden? You were about to spit something back at him before you felt a hand on your waist. 

“Vivian, Jason. Apologies for being gone so long, I hope the two of you were able to keep each other company?”, Calvi looked at you with deep eyes, his smile forced but he didn’t need to know you could tell. 

“Everything has been pretty calm here. I think they may start the dinner soon.”, you smiled at him as you felt the dark stare coming from Jason. 

“Then, let’s get to our tables shall we? Jason, I believe you and Marcos are with us tonight.”

“Let’s find our seats then.”, he pulled out a fake charming smile as he followed behind the both of you. The atmosphere crackled with unspoken tension, the weight of your shared moment just a few minutes ago hung between the two of you. You couldn’t deny whatever pull Jason had on you, but you needed to shove the thoughts away. Outside of this job, he was still a name on your list of targets. 

Calvi pulled out your seat once you’d reached the other room where the dinner would proceed. Several other guests were already sitting at their tables as they surrounded the main stage, waiting for the speaker to come up for the night and proceed into the auction. Your heart pounded in your chest as you looked at the clock on the wall. You had less than five minutes to find an opening or you would lose your only advantage. 

“Calvi, I need to step out for a moment. I'm just going to head to the washroom”, you asked trying to sound as calm as possible. 

“I'll accompany you, I have a call I need to make.”, Jason’s voice rang out, Calvi nodding slightly as he looked towards Jason. “I can walk with you."

“Thank you, Jason.”, you forced. “I’ll be back before they even start with the first round of appetizers and the opening speech.”, you placed a soft kiss on Calvi’s cheek, trying to keep up the appearance of his adorned partner. 

You followed behind Jason closely, his shoulders tense as he parted in the opposite direction once you exited the dining hall, leaving as you went into the women's restroom. You pushed the door open, opening the final stall and locking it behind you. You quickly removed the hidden compartment behind the wall. To anyone else it looked like the normal wall in the restroom, but you had managed to sneak your undercover clothing into the empty space behind it. You quickly removed your dress, pulling it off gently as you changed into the simple kitchen staff clothing. Black pants, black button up, non slip shoes and tying your hair into a bun. You had opted for makeup that was easy to put on and take off, quickly taking off parts of the eye shadow before letting yourself look more natural. The same with your hair as it only remained in a slicked back ponytail, making it easy to twist into a bun. You quickly put on the tie and the hat you had that the kitchen staff wore in order to hide your face. 

You quickly zipped your dress into a seal proof bag and shoved it into the wall along with your heels, fixing it before looking down at your watch. You had less than 2 minutes before you needed to look for the diamond, 8 minutes to find the case and retrieve it, all while keeping a low profile. 

You pushed through the door of the restroom and walked confidently through the halls, your eyes taking in the different cases being showcased around you with all the different jewels. Some of them remained in cases, but according to your plan book, it would be on display tonight for the auction. 

You paced through the halls, seeing dressed in all black Jason walk up next to you, his attire matching the security guards uniform as his words dropped into your ears. “We need to move quickly.”, he breathed as his eyes glanced over at the other servers moving through the halls carrying trays. 

You hummed in agreement, your focus sharp as you fell into step with him before breaking apart once again. He went towards the east wing and you to the west, both wings holding different jewels but only one holding the one you needed. 

45 seconds until the outage. 

You moved through the halls quickly. Your eyes skimming every jewel showcased on the mannequins that were also dressed in beautiful gowns and wore other expensive jewels. 

30 seconds. 

Jason paced the east wing, his eyes taking in every case, keeping a close watch on the cameras and making himself look as normal as possible. Being dressed in security clothing and observing the rooms would cease suspicion. It was the perfect cover. 

15 seconds. 

You felt your heart pound as you looked at the last of the people head into the dining hall. 

10 seconds. 

Jason felt a tug in his gut as he heard the announcer start speaking in the other room, signaling his opening in a few seconds. 

5 seconds.

You could hear the announcer in the other room, then complete silence before you heard the scream of one of the guests. The power had gone completely out and you watched the camera intently as the red light signaling its recording flickered off. You felt yourself go into overdrive, your body quickly searching through the mannequins as your watch gave you the alarm that you only had 8 minutes before the cameras and the security locks on the cases turned back on. 

Adrenaline surged through you as the darkness acted as your cover, the loss of power would only give you so much time. You knew each second counted, quickly moving as you scanned each mannequin with precision, your senses heightened due to the lack of light. The echo of distant voices carried down the hall, the subtle sound of rushed footsteps heightening your awareness. Your heart pounded in your chest every time there was a noise down the hall, but you couldn’t let your anxiety get to you if you were going to pull this off. You needed to focus on this and only this. You only hoped that if you couldn’t find the diamond here, Jason had it already. 

Time blurred as you felt the pressure slowly start to build as you felt the reality sink in. Where was it?! 

You looked at your watch, only having 4 minutes to retrieve what you needed, get back to the restroom and change, find Jason, and return to the dining hall before security inevitably took everyone to evacuate the building. The adrenaline and pounding of your heart only increased as you watched the time go down, Jason still not having sent the signal to your receiver that he had found it on his end. 

In the east wing, Jason felt himself struggling to keep his composure. He knew you only had mere minutes before the both of you would have to return empty handed or with the diamond in hand. He contemplated just taking a different diamond out of its place, but none of them would hold the same weight as Josephine would towards making a direct hit at Black Mask. Jason looked at his watch, not having received a signal from you yet. Would all of this have been for nothing?

His watch told him he only had 2 minutes left. His jaw clenched, the plan was to be back in the main room by the time 1 minute hit, he had to leave and get changed now if he was going to erase suspicion. 

Dammit.

He turned, rushing back to the restroom and quickly changing, shoving the clothes back into the hidden compartment behind the wall as he fixed his suit and swept his hair back in his neat, yet messy style he had when he had arrived at the event for the night. He walked out of the restroom, fixing his cuffs and trying to wipe the sweat from his forehead as he navigated carefully back into the main room, the sound of chatter and mild chaos breaking out as the announcer called for everyone to follow the guards leading them to exit the building. 

The hum of electricity signaled the return of power, followed by the faint buzz of security systems coming back online. Jason’s eyes moved through the crowd as he blended in, trying to find any sign of you within the sea of bodies. Everyone walked around him, the security yelling before Jason felt a hand grab him. 

“Jason!”, Marcos’ voice rang out. “C’mon. We have to go.”

“What happened?”, his voice deep in confusion although he wasn’t naïve to the situation. 

“Security breach. They’re evacuating everyone.”, Marcos said, annoyed as Jason followed next to him, his eyes still skimming through the crowd. 

Where were you?

“They don’t want to be at risk for a possible hit. Apparently there have been too many raids around the city targeting the luxury businesses in Upper Gotham.”, Marcos continued. 

Jason really couldn’t care at the moment, but he followed behind everyone as they made their way down the stairs and through the security checkpoint. The security were patting down each person, ensuring they didn’t carry anything from the inside out. It made Jason’s heart pump as he watched Marcos get patted down, him following closely behind as he continued to skim through the attendees getting checked by the line of guards. 

The guard rushed him forward after being checked, fixing his cuffs Jason looked over at Marcos as he called for his car. “Do you need a ride?”, Marcos asked silently. 

“No. I have my own car, thanks though.”, Why was he on edge? He was sure you’d gotten out, maybe you were already back at the rendezvous point. You both agreed to meet there in case anything fell through. His jaw tightened as he grew deeper in thought, waving mindlessly as Marcos left in his car and he walked through the streets until he reached his hidden motorcycle in the back alleys of the city. 

He placed the black helmet over his head, kicking up the motorcycle stand as he revved the engine to life, the screeching of tires sounding out as he drove through the city pushing his top speed. His unease gnawed at him as his mind raced through each second he spent on the road. He forced himself to remember you were smart, resourceful, and were probably the best to get out of a tough situation. Yet, the weight of uncertainty hung around him like a 500 pound weight.

His anticipation made him tighten his grip on the handles as he sped through the city streets, weaving through traffic with his timely precision he’d honed throughout the years. The wind enveloped him in a blanket, doing little to ease the anxiety growing in his bones. Every turn, every stoplight, it all heightened his sense of urgency. He needed to be sure you made it back safe, that you were in your apartment and didn’t get caught. 

As he pulled into the neighborhood, his focus intensified. He chose the familiar route he’d taken hundreds of times before, trying to find the fastest way to your apartment. He kicked down the stand on his bike as he left it in the alley, rushing up the stairs to your top floor apartment, his heart pumping faster no thanks to the stairs and the rush making him not even think about using the elevator. Each step, each floor, each second made his heart beat inside of him, he felt his anxiety creeping into his veins. 

He jumped the last few steps, using his long legs to hurry up the stairs two steps at a time as he finally reached the floor you lived on. He knocked with a rush, the seconds elongating into excruciating seconds as he paced. He knocked again, the sound echoing through the night, his pulse pounding in his ears as he waited. 

Did Calvi take her back to his estate?

Did she get caught looking for the diamond? 

Did she get lost?

Just as he was about to turn and knock again, the door swung open, there you stood in your golden dress, your hair done as perfectly as it was when you arrived for the event tonight and your makeup still flawless. Your eyes were wide as you stared at him, the silence hanging in the air as he stared at you with shock in his eyes, 

Relief flooded through him, overwhelming any lingering anxiety. "Y/n," he breathed, his voice rough with emotion.

“Jason.”, you breathed as you watched his eyes flicker into a calmness, almost like relief. “You didn’t use the window.” you said amused. 

Jason ran a hand through his hair as he let out an airy laugh. “Figured this was more suitable for the occasion.”

You moved to the side, letting him enter the apartment as you closed the door behind you and locking it silently. You felt your heart calm from the anxiety you felt at not being able to find him during the final moments of the Gala. You had gotten lost and when Calvi found you, he rushed you out the exit and brought you home in his private car. When you arrived the only thing you worried about was if Jason was able to remember your plan to meet back at your apartment if anything had gone wrong, hoping he’d eventually show. 

“I couldn’t find you after the power came back on.”, he muttered as he leaned on the kitchen table. “I didn’t find it.”

You met his gaze, letting the silence hover between the both of you as you let out a small laugh. Jason looked at you with confused eyes, his lips twitching as you laughed even harder. Were you laughing because the entire mission was a failure? Did you also fail in retrieving the diamond?

He watched you intently as you lifted the fabric to your dress, his hand twitching as it gripped the table. You showed off the part of your leg that held your gun, a small pouch attached to it. You carefully detached the small bag, your leg still on full display as Jason’s eyes lingered on your body, a flicker of lust burning inside of him as he forced himself to focus. 

He watched as you opened the small velvet bag slowly, placing the 12 carat diamond ring on a silk cloth on the counter. The deep blue color radiating a kind of beauty you couldn’t recreate in a lab, it was definitely one of a kind. You walked over to the small cabinet you had against the wall, taking out a kit used by high end jewelers to decipher the worth and validity of diamonds like this one. He watched you intently, wondering why you could pull out a diamond loupe unless you suspected it was fake. 

Though, he knew it was a good idea to do so. 

He watched as you held the diamond carefully, examining it in the light and under the loupe to look at every detail and intricate curve within the jewel. You tried to work carefully, using your knowledge to properly decipher the validity of the diamond or if everything tonight had been for nothing. Your hands moved gently as you used the different tools in your kit to check every aspect of the diamond to leave no doubt that it was real. 

The air between the two of you crackled with anticipation, the weight of your accomplishment hanging heavy in the room. Jason’s gaze flickered to you briefly, a smile hanging on his lips as he stood impressed by your resourcefulness and grace under pressure. 

It was a 50/50 chance that the diamond was actually real, especially since it wasn’t uncommon for high profile events to use fakes in order to not take the risk of something getting stolen, the insurance would surely cost them a fortune.

$48.6 million was a lot of money.

You left him on edge, wondering why your silence had prolonged as he watched you.

It had been 15 minutes. 

Was it a fake?

You pulled back, your shoulders slumping as you placed the diamond gently on the silk rag, a shuddered breath leaving your lips. He stood upright, his heart pounding at your body language. You slowly turned your head, meeting his gaze. 

"Congratulations, Jason," you praised softly, your words carrying a mix of admiration and pride. "You're officially a millionaire.”. You pushed your baby hairs back, trying to let yourself calm down from the high as you turned towards him. “Oh my god, Jas-”

Jason's response was immediate and primal. In one swift motion, he closed the distance between you, pressing your back against the kitchen counter. His hand slid possessively around the back of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair as he slammed his lips on yours in a passionate kiss. His other arm wrapped firmly around your waist, pulling you flush against him, your body freezing at the sudden contact. Your heart pounded in your chest, your head spinning as he moved his lips against yours in a powerful and hungry way. His hold tightened as you moved your lips against his, breathing in his natural musk. 

His hold on you became desperate, possessive, his muscular arms wrapping around you to make your frame push against his even more. His lips moved in a dominant manner, biting your bottom lip as he let himself lose all form of self control. Your hands found their way to Jason's shoulders, fingers tangling in his tuxedo jacket as you responded to his kiss with equal fervor. His toned body flexing under your fingers almost like it burned him but it left him wanting more of you. 

The world outside faded away as you stood locked in a dance of desire and danger, your hearts beating in sync with the rush of adrenaline that still coursed through you. The kiss deepened, a testament to the electric connection that had sparked between the two of you amidst the chaos and danger of your mission. He couldn’t get enough of you, his mouth finally pulling away so the two of you could catch your breath. You opened your eyes slightly, looking at his hooded ones as his eyes flickered to your swollen lips. 

Was it the adrenaline? 

Was it the high? 

Was it him? 

Was it everything around you that led you to this moment?

“Jason…”, you whispered against his mouth as you tried to catch your breath. 

You couldn’t even catch your breath before his mouth devoured yours again, pressing his body against yours and pushing you against the wall behind you. His body hunched over slightly due to the height difference but his dominance was overwhelming, pushing you into overdrive. Your hands tangled in his hair, his lips leaving your mouth and kissing down the side of your neck. Your body shook from the pleasure, your nails digging into his arm as his hand reached your lower back and pulled you against him again. His teeth bit the curve of your neck slightly, licking the sensitive area as a soft moan released from your lips. 

In that stolen moment, as you kissed amidst the quiet of your apartment, everything else melted away—the heist, the risks, the uncertainty of your future. There was only the heat of the connection, the electricity that crackled between you, and the undeniable truth that you both had crossed a line you couldn't un-cross.

As you finally pulled apart, breathless and flushed, You looked up at Jason with wide eyes, your heart racing in sync with his. Jason rested his forehead against yours, your eyes locked in a silent exchange that spoke volumes of unspoken promises and newfound intimacy.

“Jay…”, his name slipped from your lips in a desperate tone, your body betraying you by reacting to the final swipe he did on your skin, nipping on your neck before pulling back. 

“Y/n….”

Jason rested his forehead against yours, his voice husky as he murmured, "We did it."

You smiled, your fingers tracing lightly along Jason's suit. "Yeah, we did," you whispered, your lips swollen and missing his as you spoke.

In that moment, as you stayed in his hold and met his gaze in silence, you felt in your bones the truth of your relationship with him. Despite the anger, the hatred, the stupid hits at one another, Jason wasn’t the threat you believed him to be. The tension that had grown between the two of you, the moments of uncertainty where doubt had threatened to cloud your judgment, the anger that had been placed inside of you by Sionis, it all disappeared when you met his gaze.

You felt a familiarity in him, despite your denial, you couldn’t push it away. Not when there had been so many times he had helped you, taken you out of harm's way, and refused to make any hits that would result in serious harm. 

You’d believed for months that he was irritating, a nuisance, the bane of your existence and yet… here you were completely wrapped up in him.

The cold realization sank into your bones…

What have you done?

AN:

Hey guys!

I want to thank you guys for being so patient with me and the release of this chapter. Uni has been picking up and being between summer classes and fulltime at work, sometimes my posting has to get delayed! So i really appreciate the grace in this!

This series is hitting its mid way point, so there will be more picking up of everything pretty soon!

Also I have a few drafts of a JJK fanfic that I made, one with SukunaxReader and one with GetoxReader that I will be posting either while I write this series or after. I still haven’t decided yet!

Please continue to leave feedback and comments! I love reading them esp the personal messages i’ve received from many of you!

See you next week! xx.

[miller-n-morgan-2]

Take Me Home

3. Worthiness

Arthur Morgan x Texas Red!Reader

A/n: Apologies for taking so long in between to repost these chapters, it's almost fashion week and I am CRAMMING everything my ass can handle into the next few weeks lmaooo. pls enjoy and let me know what you think!

Summary: Abigail gains a new friend and gossip partner to chat with over meals, and Pearson has had enough of it. Luckily, Dutch has something lined up and ready to take the kid out of camp.

Warnings: Mild Language, gun violence. Game typical violence. Robbery/heist shenanigans. Fluff and Angst, because who doesn't love that combo? Arthur and reader get into a fight and want to kill each other for like a split second but it ends fine I swear.

WC: 6.1k

“I think I could drop you where you stand.” You were all talk, now, and he knew that… but it still boiled under his skin the way you challenged him.  “You make quite a big to do of yourself… M’guessin’ that’s where most of your reputation came from,” he smirked, but he should know better than to taunt you about those men you shot dead. “Before I got here I barely spoke a word to no one… I got my reputation from shootin’ folks so fast they didn’t have time to repent to God.” 

You’ve taken to a new hobby. You’re not quite sure the word that describes it right, but to explain what it entails, a bit of background needs to be added for understanding. 

Abigail is borderline nine months pregnant. 

John Marston, the everloving man that he is, has taken it upon himself to steer clear of her in the last stages of her pregnancy. 

Given this unfortunate situation, Abigail finds herself eating more and more food to try and relieve the stress. She also finds herself ranting to you about the dimwitted man that impregnated her, because you seem the most open to listening without offering advice. Truth be told, you just enjoy the company of a woman that doesn’t shy away from you, or try to woo you over. It brings about a sense of normalcy. 

Now, in the past weeks that this has been happening, you’ve taken to eating at the same times as Abigail, shoveling more and more into your plate like she does. It’s now become a ritual, or as you would like to call it, a hobby, to sit and devour food while shit-talking John Marston as he’s away. ‘Keeping his distance,’ whatever the hell that means, when the woman you’re with is nine months pregnant. 

In the midst of this new hobby, Dutch and Pearson have had many arguments. Dutch was always less than concerned about it, whilst Pearson nearly threw a fit every time either of you came to get portions for a meal.

“I’ve had enough of it. They come, they eat, they leave! That new boy of yours hasn’t done anything since he got here but eat us out of our stock,” Pearson complained for the hundredth time. Though you’d kept up with chores around the camp, (trying to help Abigail pick up some of her slack) you hadn’t really brought any money into the camp, which was what Dutch brought you here to do.

“Arthur’s been trainin’ him well, I’m sure it’ll be no time at all before he starts runnin’ jobs with us.” Dutch knew what this was really about…

Pearson was madder than a hornet when John first got Abigail pregnant. Even worse when he found out she would be traveling with the gang from then on. Feeding a pregnant woman was sometimes like feeding two extra men… not to mention the fact that you joined her at every meal. He doesn’t want to say anything about Abigail, especially in the state she’s in… but maybe if you didn’t sit and eat with her all the damn time, it wouldn’t be as bad, and the rations would last longer. 

“He better start earnin’ his keep. If he doesn’t I’ll skin him, make a stew.”

Dutch let out a boisterous laugh, clapping Pearson on the back and shaking his head. 

“I have a feeling he’ll probably bring in as much as Arthur… There’s some sort of competition between them. I think as long as they don’t rip each other to shreds, they’ll be real beneficial,” He started towards Hosea, passing by you and Abigail on the way and tipping his hat. “Top of the mornin’ to ya.”

“Mornin’,” you nodded with a smile, taking a sip of your coffee before digging back into the bread and jam you both raided from Pearson’s ‘kitchen.’

He ducked into his tent, and you turned back to Abigail, listening intently to all she had to say. Today, she had news of an argument between her and John the night before. 

“It’s been all, ‘how do I even know that kid is mine?’ and ‘what if I don’t want to be a part of it anymore?’ since about the five month mark. M’startin’ to think that maybe I should’ve just left the gang, convinced some poor drunk dope from the town it’s his.” She gave her best John impression when quoting him, and as funny as it was, all you could feel was grief for the young woman. She was too young to even be thinking this way. 

You’ve not spent any one on one time with John, but he sounds like a real ass.

“As sad as I am to say it, Miss Abigail… I believe most of us men are stupid as they come. We can’t tell what’s right in front of us, even if y’all are screamin’ and shoutin’.”

“If that ain’t the truth…” she trailed, sighing with her head down. Even though she portrayed her sorrows in a comedic light, you could tell it weighed on her. 

You weren’t sure if you should even offer this, because you had no idea if you would even be hiding your secret this long, but the longer you go without revealing anything… you’re starting to think of your little secret more permanently.

“If push comes to shove… You can tell the kid it’s mine. Not too sure it’ll believe you, what with the carrot head I got, but if you want to…”

She laughed lighthearted, and sighed again, but this time out of contentment. 

“I guess not all men are stupid. You’re not even the first one who’s offered that to me,” she explained, nodding towards the outskirts of camp where an open tent fixed upon a wagon sat neatly kept. “Arthur said the same thing when all these problems with John started.”

You smiled, looking at his empty living space, barely anything to show that he occupied the place. He had a simple cot and bedroll, a small table, and just a few sentimental pieces here and there. He didn’t need anything fancy or grandiose to his name, just a gun and his hat, and he was satisfied. He’s even kinder than you thought, too, hearing it firsthand from Abigail. A good man, and a great outlaw. You found yourself longing for him nearly every day now, and it would only get worse from here. 

“He’s sure something, ain’t he?” You tried to be nonchalant about him, and it seemed to work in the eyes of Abigail, but if she’d known just one little thing about you, her entire mind would be changed. 

“Oh, yes. I’ll be damn straight with ya, I almost wish it were Arthur I met last year. Wish it was him that found me at the brothel. I do love John, but… he breaks my heart sometimes,” she let out, trying to hold herself together. She’d long since begun crying herself to sleep at night, pretty much since John decided she could sleep on her own. Now, though, was not the place to break down. You’ve been kind enough to listen to her, and she feels as though using your shoulder to cry on would be taking advantage. So she changes the subject. “While I’m on the topic of love… I’ve heard you got an admirer.”

Your cheeks grew red from embarrassment, and she thought that maybe you were blushing, but she didn’t know how far off she was. “I guess I’ve heard a thing or two ‘bout that…”

“Tilly is a sweet girl, I’m sure you both would get along fine,” she added, going back to her food. 

“She’s one of the kindest souls I’ve met,” you told her, trying to be as honest as you could without divulging anything she didn’t need to know. “I’ve just never…”

“You’ve never… what?” 

You shrugged, huffing a sigh and eating the last piece of jam covered bread on your plate. Already you could tell you’d be hungry again soon. “Never been in a relationship like that before.”

“I see. Is that something you think you’d want?” Her patience is why you liked speaking with her. Sometimes she had a short temper, but it was almost always warranted and towards those who deserved it. 

You took her question to heart. You’d not even considered a relationship since the day you ran away. Your self-found freedom had been from an arranged marriage. It had been your choice to leave that way of life. You never thought you’d ever find love in the aftermath of your liberation, but thinking about it now… You looked to Arthur’s tent, just a single glance to see if he’s returned yet.

“I hope so, maybe someday when the time is right. I just think that right now, I’m not so sure about anything at all, and it wouldn’t be fair to Miss Tilly to start up something I ain’t ready for.”

She sat and stared into your downward expression for a minute, meeting your eyes when you looked up. 

You smirked a little at her gaping expression, trying to make light of it. 

“I got somethin’ on my face?” 

“No,” she shook her head, knocking herself out of whatever trance she just fell into. “S’just that… I think you’re mighty wise for someone your age. And for a man, too.” 

“I reckon that’s a real fine compliment, and I’ll take it well.”

You both shared a laugh before going back to the stashed food for seconds. 

-

Dutch had an idea… a dangerous thing, but sometimes a very lucrative one. 

The worst part about this dangerous and lucrative idea? Arthur, Javier, John, and Bill were on board. It meant there was gonna be one hell of a party this afternoon, and no one in their right mind would have the courage to stop it. 

You were unaware of said idea until around lunch time, when Pearson just ripped you a new one for taking food before it was even ready. You shared it with Abigail of course, you’re not an animal.

Dutch and Hosea were making the plans for this afternoon, and came across you both sulking in the grass, just inches away from Pearson’s space. They grabbed some small provisions for themselves, as they hadn’t quite eaten much today, and you overheard some of their chatter. 

“I’m getting too old for all that excitement. One job here and there is all I can do anymore,” Hosea tried to reason with his dearest friend. 

“I need another gun or it doesn’t work,” Dutch sighed out, scratching the back of his neck as he thought of another solution. 

You stood up and peeked over the barrel you’d been resting against, leaning over it and making your presence known. 

“I got a gun,” you smirked, halfway joking incase he shuts you down. He hasn’t told you directly that he doesn’t want you riding with them yet, but he has asked Arthur if he thinks you’re ready… to which Arthur always replied, ‘almost.’ 

Dutch narrowed his eyes at you, looking back to Hosea, but the man held his hands up in mock defense. He was gonna sit this one out regardless.

“How’s your horse with gunfire?” he asked, genuinely considering your offer today. 

“He oughta be fine, otherwise I can take someone else’s.”

There was another moment of pause, and Hosea spoke up. 

“Sean would be happy to go, he hasn’t seen action in a few weeks.” 

You sighed, doing your best to act as if you weren’t upset, then started to speak loudly.

“That’s fine by me. I’ll just stay here and have lunch with Abigail…” you trailed, and immediately Pearson whipped himself around from his station. 

“No!” He shouted, and though you were partially joking, he didn’t want to find that out for himself. He’d had enough of you, and likely of Abigail, too. “As God is my witness, I will pack my shit and never look back… take him, I’m beggin’ ya.”

Dutch found his little outburst quite comical, as did you. He chuckled lowly and rolled it over in his head once more before deciding. Maybe what you really needed to learn was being thrown in the deep end. Hell, he knew what you were capable of. It was the very reason you stood on this ground in the first place. Now he needed to put those fiery trigger fingers to the test. 

“Son,” he turned back to face you with a look of sheer confidence, hopefully this didn’t mean the pressure would all be on you. “Saddle your horse, load up on ammo. You’ll be going with John.”

The smile you had immediately left your face. 

“Yessir,” you said quickly, leaving the group to do as he said. 

John Marston, the man you’d been shit talking for over a week now. Not to his face, of course, but to his lady it was enough, even if she was doing just as much if not more in sullying his name. 

You had a bad taste for him, that much you could say. It wasn’t going to be fun, but you’d prevail. You had to. It was time to start earning your keep. 

You found the rest of the men by the hitching posts, strolling up as confidently as can be. You enjoyed the baffled looks of confusion they wore, unsure of what you were doing here. Surely you wouldn’t be joining them…

“Howdy,” you teased, tipping your hat to them with a sideways smirk. Your young looking ‘boyish’ features gave them an inkling of annoyance with the look you wore, all cocky and arrogant for show. “Give me just a second, I’ll be ready to head out.”

“You’re coming with us?” Bill questioned, though it wasn’t out of sheer curiosity, but agitation.

“Damn straight,” you muttered quieter, done joking for now since they all seemed to be absolutely against you riding along. You got along with them in camp, why did they seem to exclude you now that a job was concerned? Why did they look like they were about to fight tooth and nail to keep you here?

You ignored their sarcastic chatter over your ‘scrawny’ appearance, and made ready your horse. You’d taken him riding several times since getting here, but he hasn’t gotten to see much action other than running down the side of the river bank. 

“What the hell are you doin’?” Arthur came up beside you, trying to gain your primary focus and lead it away from the horse… not exactly a hard task when you look like Arthur Morgan does.

“Dutch said I’m ridin’ on the job,” you explained, making it very clear, first and foremost, that you had permission to go out with them from the boss.

“When? Just now? Because as it was told to us, you weren’t goin’...” 

“I get y’all don’t exactly want me here, but he needed another gun. I happen to have one, matter of fact, and I’m pretty damn good at shootin’ it. I don’t understand your hissy fit, but it ain’t gonna stop me from goin’, so I hope we’re not gonna have a problem, here.” 

He kept his mouth shut. He needed to think and rehash his words in his head before he let something fly that he didn’t at all mean. 

“I’m tryin’ to protect you, kid.” He was even closer than before all of a sudden, and you had to make him the center of your attention once again.

“Protect me from what? I shoot faster than you, remember?”

You made a point, but he made a better one. 

“You mean ‘the one shot you know how to take?’ Is that the one?” He recalled your words from many days before, the day he began teaching you everything you needed to know. You’d been here nearly a month now, if you hadn’t learned enough already, you never would.

“Look, Arthur,” you turned away from him using all the strength you had, because dammit, you did enjoy looking at him. “I know you don’t think this is ideal, but it’s not your call to make. Take it up with Dutch.”

You strapped a rifle to your horse and grabbed its reins from the hitching post, leading the dark, glossy stallion over by where the boys were finishing up. 

“Marston,” you called, all traces of light hearted fun were gone from your tone, completely dulled and sullen from the loss of excitement. “I’m with you.”

-

Arthur rode with Dutch nearly the whole time.

You were on the caboose end of the cavalcade, and watched them talk up ahead. There was no doubt in your mind it concerned you, because that’s why Arthur is so high strung, so angry about this job. 

Javier gave you the run-down on the first few minutes of the ride. It’s a quick job, and shouldn’t get drawn any attention from the neighboring towns. Essentially, there’s a procession of carriages coming from the north and heading south east, and most of the folk traveling are fairly wealthy. The kicker is, all the valuables from each person are said to be stowed on a ‘safe cart’ in the middle of the procession. You’re not sure how they figure that, but you know Dutch has incredible sources. Using the team assembled, you’ll all have to separate the safe cart from the rest of the caravan, leading it off the trail and far enough away that it can be easily raided with no repercussions. The only downside? The safe cart is heavily guarded by several armed men and is manned by experienced drivers. 

Once Javier started getting into the logistics and details of the job, you zoned out, focusing on the conversation happening with Arthur and Dutch up ahead. You had no clue what they were saying, but the body language and facial expressions said a lot. 

Arthur likely expressed his concerns to Dutch, and thereafter, was told he need not be concerned… But Arthur was a persistent animal, he didn’t just dip his head and turn away. 

You think that Arthur may have listed a few points for Dutch to consider, and that the man did so, with the fact in the forefront of his mind that you were still on the job. 

By the time everyone reached the lookout, the two of them circled around to face the rest. 

“There’s been a change of plan,” Dutch called out, looking over every face and the horse they accommodated, and they lasted longer on you than the others. “John, you’re taking the frontside of the caravan with Javier.”

And just like that, you’d been replaced. 

“Where am I goin’ then?” You tilted your head in confusion.

“You’re with me, Red,” Arthur let out, his tone not nearly as angry as earlier. Now you gotta know what happened during that talk with Dutch.

“Yes, you and Arthur will bring up the back, makin’ sure there’s no surprises.”

You weren’t sure what to feel. Was he trying to keep you where he could see you? Did he think of himself as your babysitter? Why would he put up all that fuss just to give in as long as you rode with him?

“Alright,” you sighed out, acknowledging that bringing up the rear of the operation was still better than not coming at all. 

The rest of the plan stayed the same, and soon, everyone split off with their respective partners for this heist. 

You rode off with Arthur in silence to the waiting point, not daring to say anything until you’d been sure nobody was around to hear it. You weren’t going to rip into him about this, but you had questions. He clearly was concerned over your wellbeing if he fought so hard to make sure you wouldn’t be riding in, guns blazing, on your first job. You were just going to cover the rear, a measure of security. 

When you stopped just short of the trail, you hitched your horses, taking cover behind some bushes and trees to lay low. You turned to Arthur with a huff. 

“What the hell was that?” 

He was taken aback, but not jumpy about your outburst.

“Don’t start with this again, kid. I’m tryin’ to help you,” he crossed his arms, leaning against the tree and watching the road. It was still too early for the caravan, but he didn’t want to meet your eyeline.

“You ain’t helpin’ me, you’re holdin’ me back,” you grumbled, stepping on a small gathering of dead leaves, becoming even more enraged - for no good reason - when they didn’t crunch beneath your boot. 

“You’ll thank me one day…” he trailed, lighting a cigarette from within his pocket. You would have decked him in the face if you thought it would help. 

At first you’d been grateful to him, for seeing you no differently than the others, and even showing you the ropes to become better equipped. Now you could see it was all a ruse. He underestimated you and kept telling Dutch you weren’t ready. He kept ‘training’ you to keep you busy. You weren’t falling for that shtick again. You didn’t care how pretty his eyes were, anymore. 

“Where do you get off, Morgan? The shit you’ve been putting me through these past weeks…” you scoffed, finding it amusing almost just how unbothered he seemed to be. Maybe he really was just as mean as the town’s folk say. “I’ve been able to match or best you at everything you’ve thrown at me. Maybe I should just take you out of my way.” 

He chuckled, standing upright and creeping towards you with slow steps. His eyes narrowed, and for once, you felt you knew what it was like to be prey. 

“You wanna give it a try?” he taunted, towering over you with a threatening stare. Just seeing how intimidating he could really be, you wanted to back off. Of course, you didn’t. “You really think you could take me?” 

His voice was all too quiet, all too calm. The words he spoke held such heaviness, but it didn’t show in his tone. He was teasing you, and if you gave in, he’d likely give you a humbling. You knew he’d been eyeing your hand, as if hovered closely to your gun belt… so you dropped it to your side to defuse him a little. 

“I think I could drop you where you stand.”

You were all talk, now, and he knew that… but it still boiled under his skin the way you challenged him. 

“You make quite a big to do of yourself… M’guessin’ that’s where most of your reputation came from,” he smirked, but he should know better than to taunt you about those men you shot dead.

“Before I got here I barely spoke a word to no one… I got my reputation from shootin’ folks so fast they didn’t have time to repent to God.” 

Your dead eye stare caught him. He didn’t back down, didn’t waver… he was so staunchly preserved in his way of life that he didn’t even let it show in his eyes just how much you got to him with that line.

“Your twenty-one notches ain’t shit to me.” He’s sure that by now he’s killed hundreds, maybe thousands. Sure, most he shot in the back, but the number in which he didn’t still far surpasses your miniscule little twenty-one. 

“Then let’s make it twenty-two, yeah?” You didn’t plan on shooting it, but you drew your pistol faster than he could think, trying to put it against his chest to scare him, but his reaction time was faster than you had initially thought. He grabbed the gun from your hand before it ever neared him, and threw it into the grass behind him before shoving you down.  

“Damnit, Red! You have no clue, do you?” He stood over you angrily, looking at your frozen figure like you were an animal he was hunting. “You got a gift that none of us have. Hell, I’ve been doin’ this for sixteen years and I still ain’t as fast as you. You could be the best of us, but you’re too damn stubborn, and too damn arrogant. You’re never gonna get anywhere if you’re dead.”

You stood to your feet, staring at him silently. You didn’t have anything to say to him, and honestly, you weren’t sure what would even be okay at this point. He was still angry, but his arms were no longer tense, and he wasn’t seething through harsh breaths anymore. You turned away from him and walked to your horse, sitting back down by the base of a tree and tipping your hat over your eyes. This was going to be a long day.

-

It was approaching sundown when the caravan actually arrived. You’d been napping when Dutch and Bill first gave the signal. Arthur had been watching for it the entire time, and scoffed when he turned his head to you, finding you still fast asleep as if you had nothing to worry about. 

He took a few steps over towards your resting place, kicking your boot and startling you out of your peaceful slumber. 

“What?” you asked, annoyed. Your hat was still over your eyes, so he couldn’t see how dazed you actually were. 

“Sorry, miss… didn’t mean to disturb you,” he teased, his mood having cooled off since the hours after the fight you had. “Just thought you should be conscious during your first job.”

You huffed and stood to your feet, fixing your hat and making sure you hadn’t left anything on the ground. 

Arthur went back to the lookout position and watched through his binoculars for any signs that it was about to go down… you still weren’t one hundred percent clear on the plan, so you thought you might try and annoy him a little by reiterating it.

“So… Dutch and Bill are gonna close in on the sides, leadin’ the safe carriage away from the rest, and that’s when Javier and John stop it from the front. I got that right?” 

“You got it right,” he droned on mindlessly, trying his best to pay more attention to the small flaming signal in the distance. It’s getting closer, but until they put the fire out, there’s no need to mount your horses. 

“Then it‘s a four man job, they don’t even need us.”

“I s’pose you never heard the term ‘backup’ then, have you?” He snickered, still not even giving a glance in your direction. He was firm as stone in his resolve, and you figured it would be no use trying to entertain yourself further. 

“Didn’t take you as the ‘backup’ type…” you grumbled under your breath, mumbling some other incoherencies that he didn’t get a chance to hear. He was almost sure he saw Bill creeping over to the torch, and became positive when the light went dark. 

“Get on your horse,” he became quieter, more focused. You instantly figured it out that he was the type to zone in on his jobs, and maybe you could learn from it. If you really wanted to be his equal, you needed to learn to meet or best him in everything he thrives at. 

“You get the signal?” 

He nodded, “they’re coming down the trail, we gotta be ready to chase em’ when they come through.”

You both pulled up onto your saddles, holding the horse’s from moving too much. If your position was given away, they might derail the caravan from the trail. You reckon this many rich folk traveling in a pack oughta know someone’s gonna be stupid enough to steal from them. It’s why they have a safe carriage in the first place. 

Within a moment, you can see the caravan coming over the hill. It’s dimly lit as the sun lowers completely behind the mountains, small lanterns clinging to every vehicle on the trail. You look up to the ridge that Arthur had been scoping out all this time, and you see Dutch and Bill riding downwards in a rapid attempt to split the caravan. That’s when you spot it… the stone cold metal wagon, weighing probably more than all the horses in camp combined, and armed to the brim with men on every corner. They carry heavy repeaters, their heads on a swivel. They haven’t seen Dutch or Bill yet, but as they round the corner, they all raise their weapons, just for the sound of horse hooves. 

“Cover ‘em,” Arthur told you, grabbing his rifle off his horse’s saddle. You did the same, not hesitant to start shooting at the men in the distance. You had relatively good cover, and couldn’t really be seen, but upon seeing so much fire come from your side of the trail, they began offroading towards Dutch and Bill. 

“Do we go?” you asked, switching to your pistol as you prepared to let your horse run. 

“Not yet,” he held his hand for you to watch, leaning sideways to see around another tree. He had to make sure the rest of the caravan wasn’t following the safe cart. When he saw that most of them stopped in place, he flicked his wrist, pointing in the direction you needed to go. “Now.”

You rode quickly and out onto the trail, passing the other carriages. You could vaguely hear women crying and men yelling. They ain’t gotta be afraid for their lives, so long as they stay put. 

It wasn’t hard to catch up to the gang, as they had taken the remaining guards off on the way to stopping the carriage. There was one rogue horseman that Arthur turned and shot before he could get too close to the area, but other than that, they were able to get the damn thing stationary enough to rob. 

“John, hold him off,” Dutch commanded, watching the younger man hold his gun to the carriage driver’s skull. The man cried out for mercy, not knowing that Dutch would spare his life regardless. He was unarmed, and wasn’t standing in their way, so obviously they would let him go. The Van Der Linde’s did have a code, after all. “Arthur, you open the back.”

And so he put his gun away and strolled up to the back of the wagon with his head held high, happy this robbery went according to plan… until of course, he opened the back, and was unprepared for a heavily armed man to aim right for his chest and pull the trigger. Two guns sounded at almost the same time, but yours sounded first, and it was just quick enough to skew the aim of the dead man, and he landed a non-fatal blow to Arthur’s shoulder. Both men collapsed, but one was still alive. Twenty-Two…

“Arthur! You alright, son?” Dutch yelled, running over to check on him. You’d already knelt down by where he had fallen back to, trying to sit up, but failing because of the pain. You immediately put pressure on his wound, trying to stop the bleeding on your own accord. You ripped the bandana from your neck and tried tying it up, but it was just barely long enough to go around his entire shoulder and underarm. 

“M’fine, s’just a minor shot, it went through.”

“Brooks, you oughta take him back to camp, see if any of the girls know how to patch him up,” he gave you direct orders, and you nodded, helping a moaning and groaning Arthur to his feet. 

“How’d we make out?” Arthur asked, looking into the open wagon, where Bill and Javier seemed to be rolling in money.

“Pretty damn good,” Dutch replied, giving a pat to your shoulder, since Arthur’s is in disarray. “And Brooks?” 

You looked over your shoulder at him, a hopeful look on your face, longing for the approval of someone besides yourself for once. “Yeah?”

“You did good.”

And there it was, the signed seal of approval from none other than Dutch Van Der Linde himself. 

You and Arthur remained pretty silent on the ride back to camp, mostly because he was in a shocking amount of pain and distress, but he did his best to hold it in.

You hitched and unsaddled his horse for him, doing the same with yours before following him into camp. He made way for one of the ladies, maybe Abigail if Jack was asleep already, or Karen if she wasn’t busy workin’ some of the town men. 

“Hey,” you recognized what he was doing, so you pulled him by the opposite arm in the direction of his tent. “I’ll do it.”

His living area was just wide open space in the trees, unlike yours, however, he got quite a bit more elbow room than you did. Perks of seniority

“You don’t have to-”

“I’m tryna apologize, you should let me.”

He laughed a little, a soft smile on his lips.

“What’re you apologizing for?” He asked, sitting down into his cot as you rummaged through the supplies he had on hand. Maybe not the best stuff around, but to stitch him up and wrap it after, it was fine. He’d survive. 

“Bein’ an ass, and taunting you when I know you could snap my neck in one hand.” You were flat in your tone, too focused on threading a needle to put any effort behind your words. 

“I’d never,” he said, laughing a little. He seemed to be in a cheerful mood for just having been shot. 

“You might,” you tied the thread off and bit the end to break it from the spool. Very hygienic, you know, but you didn’t find a pair of scissors. “You’ve only just barely reached the surface for just how obnoxious I can be.”

“Oh have I now?” 

“Mhm…”

You pulled at his shirt collar, opening just a few more buttons until it could pull back over his arm. He didn’t stop you, or even wince, just sat back and waited for the sting of a needle.

“This ain’t gonna tickle,” you braced him, but as soon as you started digging into his skin, making the actual stitches, he was surprised. You were pretty good at this… the reasoning behind it was probably just another one of your many secrets, he’s sure.

“S’not so bad, actually. You do this a lot?” 

“Not anymore… but I was a little rich girl, remember? Did embroidery and needlepoint since I was a little kid. I kind of miss it, actually.” 

“A gunslinger misses doin’ needlepoint?” he chuckled, feeling the hole in his skin being patched back together. Now you just gotta do the other side. 

“Well sure,” you furrowed your brows, leaning forward to bite the thread again and pull his body so you could see the exit wound. “I used to sit on the porch of my house and do it with my mama.”

He felt sorrowful all of a sudden. “Were you uh… close with your mother?”

You nodded, not speaking in fears you’d tear up, or your voice would crack. The way you both were sitting, he couldn’t see the direct look on your face, but he understood it was probably a sensitive subject. 

Oh to think, what a life you may have led if you were not born a girl. You missed your mother, and your old friends from school. You missed being able to do needlepoint, and other more feminine activities. 

“You know what I hate most about this life?” you uttered, your voice shallow, but you didn’t seem to care all that much anymore. He seemed to take a genuine interest in your problems, and your personal feelings. It was more than you could say about most men. “I haven’t worn a dress in four years… and I really love dresses.”

This wasn’t the meltdown you saw yourself having in front of Arthur, but he didn’t mind it. He placed his opposite hand on your shoulder as you bit off the last thread to seal his wounds. 

“How about this… someday, when you’ve told everyone that you’re- y’know…” he trailed, nodding his head around for emphasis. “I’ll buy you a dress in town. Whichever one you want.”

You couldn’t help but smile. In the span of one day, you’d gone through nearly every emotion you possibly could with this man, but in the end, your resolve had again been weakened, and you found yourself falling into his crystal eyes once more. 

“Thank you, Arthur… You’re a kind man, you know?” 

He shook his head. “Not so kind to most.”

You knew not to argue with him, as you were learning, he was very self deprecating, and there was no changing his mind. You took a leap, unsure of what might come of it, but you wanted to show your gratuity some other way. 

You quickly leaned forward, kissing his cheek ever so softly, almost as if it didn’t even happen. When you sat back, his eyes were a bit wider, and his brows were raised. He seemed to be frozen in surprise, and words failed him. You didn’t want him to possibly find words that could hurt, so you stood up to leave, calling after him whilst walking away. 

“Goodnight, Arthur.”

And that would have been good enough, but your heart skipped a beat when your sentiment was returned. 

“Night, Red.”

Tags: @photo1030 @sheepdogchick @snoopysshark @strvberrydoll

[auroralwriting]

the master heist

con artist!bucky barnes x reader

bucky wants you to help him get his money back from an old friend.

warnings: violence, light manipulation, kind of dark bucky, based off of seb's movie sharper!

word count: 2.5k!

"What the hell do you want with me?"

You hadn't even learned the man's name yet. He picked you up off the side of the street after a very public and very loud fight and breakup with your now ex-boyfriend. He pulled up in a Mercedes, walking out, grabbing your duffel bag of personal items. He tossed it in the backset, waving you, telling you to come on in. So, you did. It wasn't like you had anywhere else to go.

"What's your favorite movie?" He asked, ignoring your previous question. He was making himself a drink, holding an empty cup to offer you some. You shook your head.

"Uh," You hesitated, "I guess maybe Jurassic Park?"

The man raised a brow, coming to sit next to you. You tensed at his presence. "Yeah, good plot. Stupid people,"

"Very," You mused softly. "Why would you even want to go to a theme park with real dinosaurs?"

"And that man who died at the beginning?" The man nodded.

You turned your body closer to him, "Yeah, it was so stupid."

"I wouldn't know, I've never seen it." The man suddenly said. Well, wasn't he just full of surprises?

The drink in the man's cup swirled as he set it down. "You've never seen it." Your words came out less of a question, and more in disbelief.

"I'm not really a movie guy," He hummed. "And that's what I'm going to teach you."

Your eyebrow dipped up in confusion. "I'm sorry?"

The man gave an annoyed sigh, "I make people believe I'm someone else to get whatever the hell I want."

"So," You paused, shaking your head in disbelief at the current situation you'd gotten yourself in. "You're a con-artist?"

"No," The man replied, "I'm like, an actor, you could say. I'm not hurting people or anything."

Well that was weird. "I never said you did," You argued back. The man rubbed his chin with a chuckle at your reply. "What? Did I say something funny?"

"You've got fire, I like that." He acknowledged. "What's your name?" You told him your name, he nodded, mouthing it like he was getting used to saying it. "I'm Bucky. Look, I need some help. I can't always get the.. customers I need. That's where you come in."

That made you wonder what kind of gig this was. "What's in it for me?"

"Free place to stay, share of money, someone to cook for you," Bucky listed. "Want me to carry on, or do you get it?" Bucky's tone wasn't condescending, nor was it full of malice.

"Why me?" You questioned. "You don't even know me. Also, how do I even know you're a safe individual? You could be, like, some murderer who wants to sell my parts on the black market."

Bucky chuckled at your words. "One, I don't murder or even consider the black market as a viable option for my work. Two, I'll give you every proof of identity I have, hell, I'll even let you run a background check." Bucky paused, giving you a smile. "But, let's be honest, where else do you have to go?"

He was right. You didn't have anywhere else to go. Bucky was your only option as of right now. Plus, you'd be making an income. "Alright," You sighed. "I'll help you."

"My name is Avalon DeClain, I was born in Mississippi, moved to Pennsylvania when I was six for my dads work." You recited. "I majored in chemistry in college, Penn State, graduated top of my class. I have a dog, Sydney, a german shepard. I'm single and my parents died when I was in high school."

Bucky smirked, "What year did you graduate?"

"Class of '16," You replied. "Graduated college early by a year in '19."

"You're doing better than I thought," Bucky smiled honestly. "Really, good job."

You smiled at his words, a small rush of heat going to your cheeks. "Thank you," It had been a month and a half since you started living with Bucky. As promised, he took care of you. He was teaching you all he knew.

"What do you say we celebrate tonight?" Bucky offered.

"Celebrate what?" You asked, your knees pulled up to your chest as Bucky stood up to grab some drinks for the two of you. "Is it your birthday or something?"

Bucky laughed, "No, not my birthday. Just," Bucky sucked in a breath, "A celebration of your wild achievements. I'd say you're graduating top of my class."

"Well, I'd sure hope so." You teased as Bucky walked back over. He handed you a glass of champagne, his own filled with a dark wine. "I am your only student, after all."

"And still my best work," Bucky clinked his glass with your own as you both took sips.

For a while, the both of you talked and drank. Somewhere in the last month, you had gotten Bucky to actually open up. He told you about how he grew up doing this life with some friends. However, he refused to speak about one in particular; Steve. Tonight, things seemed different though.

"Look, we've been doing small stuff," Bucky started, his tone becoming more serious. "You're perfect at the small stuff. But, I haven't been honest with you, doll."

"What happened with him?" You cautiously asked, ignoring the burning of your cheeks at the nickname

Bucky's eyes widened for a moment, his face then relaxing as he released a breath. "I knew you were intuitive." Bucky sighed, rubbing his face with his hand. "Steve was my best bud. We did, well, everything together. Until, well, one big job we found." You nodded, urging Bucky to go on. "It was some old guy, Richard. We both decided to become his assistants until he passed; he was old as rocks, if not older. After he passed, Steve and I said we'd split the money. It was around ten grand each. I guess the old man also had grandkids."

The look on Bucky's face almost broke your heart. "He took it all,"

"Not just that," Bucky continued. "He tried to get me fucking arrested. Damn good thing I was friends with one of the cops."

"So," You began. "How are we getting him back?"

Bucky's face was a mixture of relief, joy, and passion. "I love that fire in you," He sighed contently. "Tomorrow night, Steve's going out on his annual celebration. Something to do with his work successes?" Bucky wasn't sure. "His actual job, conning is a side for him."

"All right," You reassured. "I'm ready for this. What's our plan?"

"You're gonna flirt with him," Bucky explained. "He doesn't have a type, just pretty girls with short dresses. You're gonna explain how you need money for grad school, and of course he's gonna give it to you. He prides himself on being some social saint or whatever."

This plan felt way too easy. "That's all?" You remarked. "That feels.. too easy."

"Steve's girlfriend, Natasha," Bucky sighed, "She's gonna be up his ass all night. You gotta find a way to get her out of there."

You internally cringed. Great, that was significantly harder than before. "What's she like?"

"I really don't have a single clue," Bucky huffed out. "That's the one flaw of this, which is why I need to be sure you can do this."

Bucky looked nearly defeated. It was obvious he needed your help, he couldn't do it without you. "I promise you," You grabbed Bucky's hands. "I can get you that money."

No, you thought. I can get you even more.

Bucky had no way of checking in on you to see how things were going. He left his full trust in you to not fuck this up. You could see it in him all day; he was stressed. His hand kept running through his hair, he couldn't stop tapping his feet against the wood floor.

You walked into the bar, a smooth, tight, black dress on, red heels to match. You looked around for a moment, seeing if you could spot Steve.

It really wasn't hard to find him, bright blonde hair, a boisterous laugh that was actually really cute. That was definitely the man you were looking for.

Bucky gave you a script to follow. Steve once knew a guy, Howard, back from high school. The two had zero connection now, but good old Howard was your way in.

"Excuse me," You asked, walking up behind Steve. He and Natasha both turned around. "Are you Steve Rogers?

Steve gave a smile, "Yeah, that's me. You are?"

"Oh, I'm Avalon." You reached out your hand to Steve which he shook. You followed the same action with Natasha. "I'm good friends with Howard."

Steve slapped the counter with joy, "Howard! I remember that son of a bitch. How is he?"

"Great," You smiled. Natasha scooted over a seat, letting you sit between the two. "He's got a wife, good job."

"That's great. I always liked that guy, such a good man. He deserves a great life." Steve gushed as you awkwardly smiled in return. You ordered a drink as Steve rambled.

You shyly began to comb your fingers through your hair as Steve subtly checked you out. "He was actually the one to tell me about you. He thought, well, maybe you could give me a hand."

The bartender slid you the drink, one you failed to catch as it spilled all over the front of you. Both Steve and Natasha gasped. "Oh my god! Oh, that'll never come out." Natasha gasped.

Steve quickly grabbed napkins to help you try and sop some of it up. "Are you okay?"

"Perfectly fine, just a ruined dress. I just bought it, too." You whined. In reality, this was all a part of your perfectly made plan to get Natasha out of there.

"Sweets, I'm gonna run home and grab her a new dress. We only live fifteen away and there is no way I'm letting her spend the rest of the night in a ruined dress." Natasha fell for the bait. This was perfect.

You quickly feigned guilt, "Oh, no. Please, it's really okay."

"No, I insist." Natasha said as she stood up, grabbing her belongings. "I'll be back as soon as I can, Stevie." Natasha left a small kiss on his cheek and rushed out of the building.

"I'm so sorry about your dress," Steve said, eyeing places it did not spill.

"It's fine, really." You said.

Steve was not subtle with checking you out anymore. "So, what was that favor Howard said I could help with?"

"Well," You bit your lip in a fake shame. Steve was quick to use his thumb to remove it from your teeth. "I have a pretty lousy job. I have this shitty apartment and a dog to take care of. I'm still paying off student loans, and I need to get my masters to get a decent paying job," You falsely admitted to Steve, batting your eyes at him as you sighed deeply. "I just.. can't afford to live. I'm eating a meal a day to afford dog food and groceries. Howard said that maybe you could help me out?"

You'd never seen a man nod quicker than Steve in that moment. "I'll do you one better. I'll help you pay off those student loans and get yo you paid off for grad school."

A gasp left your lips. To Steve, it was shock of his kindness. In reality, it was shock your plan worked. "Oh, God no. I couldn't ask for all of that. I was just gonna see if you wanted my dog-"

"Anything for a friend of Howard." Steve shook his head. "How do you want the money? Actually, no. Let me give it to you cash. You don't need to pay more taxes from that." You didn't even notice Steve had a briefcase with him. He opened it, leaving you in shock. You'd never seen so many hundred dollar bills stacked together before.

Steve counted out some stacks, making a pile. "I'm just gonna spit this half with you. Should be, ah, about maybe twenty grand?"

Your eyes almost popped out of your head. "Steve, I really couldn't-"

"Please," Steve scoffed. "I could make this money back in a day. I insist, you deserve a beautiful life for a beautiful woman." Steve's hand rested on your cheek as he thumbed it over softly. For some reason, his touch made you uncomfortable. All you really wanted was Bucky.

"I appreciate this more than you know." You sighed, leaning into his touch. "Thank you, Steve."

"It's no problem, sweetheart. Here, use this to carry all that in. We don't need you getting robbed." Steve handed over a large pouch from the case, shoving the money in it. "Get home safe, and give me a call sometime."

You nodded with a smile, but deep down you felt disgusted. You couldn't wait to show Bucky what you got.

"Bucky?" You called as you walked in. You walked in the living room to see Bucky jumping up from his seat.

"You look scared shitless, doll. What happened?" Bucky immediately rushed to your side. You hadn't even noticed how anxious you were, but it was a good anxious. "Did he touch you? I swear I will fuck him up if-"

Cutting off Bucky, you opened the bag to reveal the money. "He did some light touching, but I made it work to get you a little something extra."

"Ho-ly shit," Bucky breathed out, his eyes gleaming with disbelief. "Doll, how much is this?:

"Steve said twenty grand," You answered. "I thought I would play it up to get some more out of this."

Bucky looked to you, alarmed. "Did you let him-"

"No!" You cut him off again. "God, no. I just let him eye-fuck me and touch my cheek. That was enough for him. You're right, he is some social saint."

Bucky quickly scooped you up, hugging you tightly in his arms. "Fuck, doll! You're a fucking genius. You're actually fucking insane!" Bucky yelled as you laughed. "Why'd you do that? Put yourself through that for this?"

"It was for you, Bucky." You shyly admitted. "You gave me a second chance, so I wanted to give you what you deserved."

Bucky's hands came to rest at your hips as he drew you in closer. "Did you like the way he looked at you?"

"I only like the way you look at me," You breathed out, his face getting much closer to yours. "I just wanted you to be the one to touch me."

"Doll," Bucky muttered, his lips so close to your own you could almost feel them. "You're a fucking dream." Bucky pushed his lips against your own as you wrapped your arms around his neck. You sighed contently into the kiss. "Your dress is also fucking sopping the floors."

You gave a smirk to Bucky, "So take it off, then." He smirked wildly at you as he grabbed your hand, leading you to his room.

"Maybe I will,"

[m0thgutzzzz]

PIZZA HEROES

Peppino Spaghetti is the owner of a failing pizza shop. His coworker, Gustavo, seems to be the only person in his life that cares about him. One day he is called to a warehouse for a pizza delivery. Inside he finds four people surrounding a high tech device. A rat snatches up his box of pizza and runs into the device, causing an explosion. Peppino is able to escape the rubble of the building, and the other four caught in the explosion escape as well.

Peppino finds one day that he now has the ability to control and create pizza ingredients. Gustavo reveals to him that he is a superhero, Pawprint, and that the two should work together. Peppino takes on a new superhero identity to take down the people behind the recent crimes that have been sprouting up around town.

Name: Peppino Spaghetti

Super/Villain name: Chef Raider

Age: 39

Species: Human

Pronouns: He/Him

General story/Background: Peppino was born in Italy. When he was in his twenties, he fought in a war, then was discharged due to his violent tendencies towards other soldiers. He eventually moved to America and was able to start a restaurant with the small amount of money he had.

Name: Gustavo Fungo

Super/Villain name: PawPrint

Age: 38

Species: Gnome

Pronouns: He/Him

General story/Background: Gustavo was born in a gnome village deep within the forest. When he was young, he was gifted with the ability to control and communicate with plants and animals. He soon left the village and entered the city where he took up a job at Peppino’s Pizza. Gustavo often disguises himself as a human so people don’t recognize him as his superhero alter ego.

Name: Brick

Super/Villain name: Rattail

Age: 6

Species: Rat

Pronouns: She/Her

General story/Background: Brick was a lab rat mutated by a scientist. She soon escaped to the sewer where she started to grow! Giant rat! Gustavo heard her cries one day and took her in. Now the two work together as a superhero duo.

Name: Theodore Noise

Super/Villain name: The Noise

Age: 37

Species: Human-Rat hybrid

Pronouns: He/They

General story/Background: Theodore was a well known news anchor for the city. Totino convinced him to come to the warehouse, promising him that this new device could make him a lot of money. He was fused with the rat that caused the explosion and was shunned from the television industry because of how he looked. Now he resides with Totino and Phil, planning out heists so Totino can assemble a device to turn them back to normal.

Name: Phil Kalee

Super/Villain name: Pepperman

Age: 40

Species: Human-Pepper hybrid

Pronouns: He/Him

General story/Background: Phil was an artist trying to get his work off of the ground. Totino promised him that the device would get him famous. He was fused with the peppers on the pizza, and now helps carry out heists. The brawn of the group! Phil often fumbles missions because he insists he plasters each crime scene with graffiti as a calling card.

Name: Vigert Ebeneezer Lante

Super/Villain name: The Vigilante

Age: 41

Species: Human-Cheese hybrid

Pronouns: He/Him

General story/Background: Vigi moved from his hometown in the south after his grandfather passed. He vowed that he would bring justice and make the world a better place. Totino told him that this device could do just that. He was fused with the cheese on the pizza. Vigi soon confronted Totino about the changes, and Totino tried to deny them. Vigi was so outraged by his betrayal that he shot Totino, triggering his toon transformation. He is now one of the main targets of the gang (besides Peppino). Vigi isn’t afraid to kill in order for there to be peace. He seems rather neutral towards Peppino, and can either be fighting with him or against him.

Name: Toto “Totino” DiGiorno

Super/Villain name: Pizzahead

Age: 36

Species: Human-Pizza-Toon hybrid

Pronouns: Any

General story/Background: Totino and his older brother were adopted by a very wealthy couple, who only wanted the best opportunities for them both. Totino always had a big interest in science, so his parents arranged for him to have a job in scientific inventing when he grew up. After his parents passed, he quickly grew dissatisfied with how professional and “toned down” he had to be, and wanted more out of his inventions. Becoming a toon gave him the chance to be his true self, but also dialed up his behavior to a dangerous level.

(art by tinybubble330)

Name: Pɘqqino Ƨqɒϱʜɘtti/Fake Peppino

Super/Villain name: Anti-Raider/Fake Raider

Age: ???

Species: Dough Clone

Pronouns: He/They

General story/Background: After Totino went off his rocker, he became obsessed with defeating Peppino. So much so, that he created a clone to rival him. The clone was stable at first and resembled Peppino exactly. But after their first defeat, the clone began to melt. They now constantly follow after Pizzahead and are hell bent on one thing. Destroying Peppino and taking his place.

—

THIS IS AN AU I’VE BEEN MAKING WITH @tinybubble330 !!!! i couldn’t fit everyone in this post, so expect a part two… eventually if people show enough interest in this

[phoenixyfriend]

Post-O66 Mace going into hiding as a pirate with a crew like Hondo's, is that anything?

I got a bunch of input on discord. Calling this one:

A bunch of pirates, a Jedi Master on the run, and a traumatized twelve-year-old.

Kicking off with a key part of it all is @atagotiak (Tia):

He’s annoying because he’s such a stick in the mud (by which I mean it’s rather inconvenient for a pirate crew when the new recruit has morals and stuff) But he’s too valuable to get rid of, due to having all that experience with administration

I am enamored with the idea of Mace's main job being just. Pirate Admin.

Mace: So this is what I am reduced to. Aiding and abetting… in tax evasion. Hondo: And piracy. Mace: The tax evasion is a bigger hit to my pride.

Tia:

The pirates are annoyed that despite him stopping them from going through with the more immoral (and lucrative) plans they’re still making more money than before

Pirates: How are we making more money now-- Mace: Have you heard of a budget.

@jebiknights (knights):

okay but traditionally pirate ships have a quarter master who is high ranking, in charge of the bounty of every prize and therefore in charge of dividing everything up fairly like that could work really well lmaooo

The crew runs into Obi-Wan during the Leia incident and it's just time for "I can explain" on both ends.

Tia:

Hey, d’you think the pirates go after force sensitives? Mace managed to talk them into recruitment and/or relocation instead of selling to the empire. (And that’s another thing that could possibly have worked out better for them than the immoral option (not least because the empire doesn’t really treat its allies well)) Obi-Wan: and how are you dealing with Hondo’s… nonsense? Mace: eh, it’s not like he’s any worse than you or Yoda. (Mace is probably just messing with Obi-Wan. Probably)

Also I'm thinking that one of those initiates that Hondo let go(?) that one time finds them because a pirate might be likely to sell them out but they're demonstrably competent at evading arrest, so maybe-

And that's how Mace ends up with another padawan. Maybe Katooni.

@dracothulhu:

Hondo would put him in so many stupid costumes

knights:

i also just realized that mace loses both of his hands in rots..... hondo tries to convince him at least one of said hands should be a hook or a lightsaber

Tia:

Probably deliberately playing straight man about it. He doesn’t care about dignity that much, but there’s benefits to exaggerate how humiliating he finds it Hey, y’know what’s piratical? Eyepatches

[vibrates in response to baiting for Nick Fury jokes] Love it

Tia:

I do think as much as jokes about Samuel L Jackson’s other roles are fun, pirate Mace shouldn’t swear much, even after becoming acclimated to pirate life.

knights:

also i agree i think pirate mace shouldnt swear much, he should get to use his classically trained acting chops and give dramatic speeches like hes the love interest in a pirate romance novel hondo is swooning in the background .... nixy im about ready to start crack shipping them bc of this dammit this is going to pick at my brain isnt it dhgisrjgser (pirate mace not the hondo/mace part) honestly the funniest thing is that mace would probably really enjoy being a pirate after all of the beauracracy he had to deal with in the senate during the war. things are much more simple even if everyone drives him nuts lol listen mace didn't intend to get directly involved in the actual like heists probably, he is there to lay low and also to keep the ship organized and make sure hondo doesnt blow all their money on booze and "investments", but then hondo's dumbass probably gets in over his head along with his first mate and some other crew members and mace is starting to like the life hes living esp bc he is still able to help people on the Path in between thievery and tax evasion, so he goes to rescue them and is like... what am i supposed to do i am too recognizable i am supposed to be dead and puts on a disguise and just goes for it

Another thing Mace is good at is contracts He is. Painfully good at it. He doesn't enjoy it, but watching Hondo draft up a contract is almost painful. (Hondo is smart at this. He's clever. He's experienced. But he didn't take multiple classes on contract law.)

Tia:

Hondo never seemed especially book smart, and he never made a promise he hadn’t at least considered breaking so contracts would be a weak point for him

[capturecharlesau]

OOOH MY FUCK I DID IT :D I FINISHED ALL OF TOPPAT WEEK! HERE IT IS XD

Since I’m gonna be gone for the entirety of May for a vacay I wanted to do ALL OF TOPPAT WEEK CHALLENGES IN ONE POST before I leave HEHEHE :D

@androidcharles I present you my part of your wonderful Toppat week! :D I Hope you like it :) HERE THEY ARE!

May 13: Airship here we see the our main four Toppats in a work area in the Airship hehe >:D

May 14: A Different Division

In my AU the Toppats are around the world so each country has a senator and represents the Toppats from a specific country and all obey the Toppat King which is Reginald!

Reginald is talking about how amazing the Toppats have been in stealing money wrong the world for him! And in return Reginald would spend the money taking care of his clan <3

May 15: Favorite Toppat

HAH! THAT WOULD BE FOR REGINALD, RHM, SVEN, AND BURT HEHEHE THESE FOUR ARE MY FAVORITE!!!! Here’s them without their hats :)

May 16: Background Toppat

THAT WOULD BE CAROL, MACBETH, EARRINGS, SLICE, SLEDGE, AND WILHELM HEHEHE

May 17-19:

OH MY BABY DANNY IS MY TOPPAT OC HEHEHE HIS GAY BIGENDER ASS WILL ALWAYS BE MY BABY HEHEHE

OH AND MY FAVORITE OC FROM OTHERS IS CRUSHER AND JAY (by @jaytoons7), POLLO (by @00lari00) BRO….CRUSHER IS THE MOST HANDSOME OC EVEEEEERRRRRR, JAY IS THE CUTIEST WHOOOOTIEST LIL OC EVER!!!

AND POLLO IS SUCH BIG BRAIN BABY <3 AND PAPA DAN WILL ALWAYS LOVE HIM HEHEHE

And I decided I wanted to style Kabbitz and Handsome Harold LOL

May 20, 22-24: There is the Toppat Ship, HEIST MONEY, LEISURE at the beach, and DANCER!!! (In my AU if your not a dancer you cannot be a Toppat :)

May 21: Favorite Toppat leader……..

ALL OF THEM-……I LOVE THEM ALL!!!! Even Terry because I can hit his ass with a frying pan HAHAHA!!!

Here are the leaders without their top hats so you can see their hair and hair color :)

May 25: Angst!

Here is Reginald with his neck BURNING in pain from YEARS of abuse from Terrence…. And the one with Burt is actually a major spoiler on what’s gonna happen soon in my comics 👀 roses….hmmmm why is he coughing up petals?

May 26: Swap

LETS SWAP CHARLES AND BURT HEHEHE

May 27: PARTY

HAPPY ITA DAY/MONTH!!! I HAD SO MUCH FUN MAKING THIS THANK YOU FOR THIS PLANNER @androidcharles

LETS ALL CELEBRATE AND THROW OUR TOP HATS IN THE AIR 🎩

[raeynbowboi]

HOW TO PLAY AS THE BELCHERS IN DND 5E

Today, we're going to explore how to build the Belchers as a DnD Party. Plus Teddy. We're not really going to touch on stats. Let's be honest, the Belchers aren't really great at anything. If we were building them accurately, they'd all be super low level and/or with terrible stats. But it's your character and your campaign, so you can make them more or less optimized as you see fit. They're also all basic Humans, so we're pretty much just focusing on their classes and subclasses.

BOB BELCHER

PALADIN OATH OF DEVOTION

Bob is largely defined by his principles and values. As Tina puts it, Bob is a good business owner, but a bad businessman. He cares more about providing a quality service and succeeding his way than making money. And in Little Hard Dad, he's shown to say "It's the principle of it" way too often. This to me reads as a Paladin. Given his belief in quality service and moral principles, I label him as an Oath of Devotion Paladin.

VARIANT BUILD

FIGHTER SAMURAI ARCHETYPE

Bob is pretty boring and straightforward, which makes Fighter really fitting for his personality. If he was going to model himself after anyone, he'd choose Shinji Kojima/Hawk. Thus, the Samurai archetype. However, if we're leaning purely into the boring practicality and straightforwardness of Bob, I might suggest Champion instead. It's the most Fighter-y Fighter you can build.

Regardless of his class, make sure to pick up proficiency with Cook's Utensils or the Chef Feat.

LINDA BELCHER

BARD COLLEGE OF DANCE

Telling Linda Belcher not to sing or dance is like telling Tina not to talk about horses or telling Bob not to cook. It's just not going to happen. She loves the theater, she sings all the time, and she was once in an amateur garage band. All the makings of a classic bard. Given her love of dancing, I went with the College of Dance.

TINA BELCHER

CLERIC LIFE DOMAIN

Tina is the family member who puts the most stock in things like fate, true love, karma, and damnation. She is also one of the characters that mentions religion more than anyone else. More specifically, she strikes me as a Cleric of Sune, the Faerunian Goddess of Love and Beauty. Sune's virtues include following your heart wherever it leads, championing love and romance at all costs, taking any risk in pursuit of love, being true to your heart and your passions without shame, and trying to make the world a more beautiful place. As such, Tina is the perfect candidate for a Cleric of Sune. Sune has two domains: Life and Light. Given that Tina has at least some interest in nursing, the Life Domain seems more in-line with Tina's values as a follower of Sune.

GENE BELCHER

SORCERER WILD MAGIC ORIGIN

I know, I know. It's a sin that he's not a Bard. But Gene and Linda are very similar characters, and both work as Bards. The best thing for a party is diversity. So, I looked at Gene's personality beyond just his music. And the core of Gene is whacky nonsense. Usually, when Gene tells stories, it's an excuse for weird imagery. The Banana-fullo, Fart School, radioactive pizza sauce. Thus, the Wild Magic origin for Sorcerers spoke to me. Gene loves whacky randomness, so he would be drawn to Wild Magic. Plus, he's not really a good bard. He hates practicing, he's unfamiliar with the concept of a workbook, and kind of just expects a music career to be handed to him. Hell, when he got cast in a play and had all of two lines, he didn't memorize them, and wanted to ad lib every take. Gene's a sorcerer with the Entertainer background, but he is NOT a bard. He doesn't take his craft seriously the way Linda does.

LOUISE BELCHER

ROGUE ASSASSIN ARCHETYPE

One of Louise's main skills is her ability to pick locks. Bob is literally afraid to go into her room as he expects boobie traps to hurt him. She's a clever tactician, masterminding several heists and revenge schemes. She's good at tricking people and lying to their faces to get what she wants. As for why she's an assassin, in the episode where Louise is uncertain of her future, one vignette paints as a John Wick style Wedgie-Sassin. She's also a fan of Francine, a Special Girl doll that spied on the Russians during the Cold War. She's not typically a fan of girly things, but she does like the one that's a spy. She's definitely the family member who would be the outlaw punk of the group.

RANGER GLOOMSTALKER CONCLAVE

In more recent seasons, we've seen a newfound interest in archery, with Louise even making a zombie movie centered around her blossoming hobby. The Gloomstalker/Assassin multiclass is also a very good multiclass in combat, which is why I felt it was the most fitting for Louise. She's also pretty accurate with other ranged combat like spitballs and throwing things at people.

TEDDY THE HANDYMAN

ARTIFICER BATTLE SMITH

This one pretty much goes without saying. He's a mechanic and handyman, he's used to moving and hauling heavy objects, plus he's burly, making him a great fit for the party's tank. The Battle Smith is an artificer built for the front line, and they get to be joined by a mechanical ally. Teddy would absolutely take a hit for any of the Belchers. The guy also fell off a roof and walked it off, so he's definitely got the highest Constitution score of the group.

I think this party turned out alright. Bob and Teddy are on the frontlines, Linda and Tina are the primary support, Gene is a ball of pure chaos and uncontrolled energy, and Louise is sniping people from the shadows. Everyone's doing what they should be doing to work as a unit, and also happen to be a fairly well-balanced party as well. This is an especially good party for low stakes and silly campaigns, but probably not the kind of party you want to bring to Barovia or Avernus.

[rreskk]

Can you write a HEAVY smut abt Trevor and fem! reader doing it in the bathroom? (I'm sorry if tooo heavy)

BATHROOM BREAK

Summary: Based on 2003, you were a "training" gunner for the crew. While competing one of your first heists, Trevor took you aside to work on your "skills."

TW: Smut

Pairings: Fem!reader/ Trevor Philips

Word count: 1378

Michael’s eyes lingered the room which all hostages were cowardly cornered by Brad’s booming body — entrapping their ability to run as he spent a few seconds counting the crew, only to find two missing from the action. This made it extremely harder for them to gather the money and handle the witnesses; his heart thumping and hands gripping the gun. He found it restricting to breathe from under his mask.

“Where the fuck is T?” Mike shouted towards Brad who seemed equally as stressed.

The man shrugged in response and attempted to hush the crowd of hostages who were in hysterics. Both of them felt the anger bubble to surface at Trevor’s absent placement. Then noticing your truancy as well, being the newest member — the “trainee,” as they’d call you.

Michael gritted his teeth and cursed your name as he could only imagine where you are.

-

“Oh- oh… fuck.” You grabbed the back of his neck after being pressed against the bathroom wall, his finger mercilessly confiscating your panties that fell around your thighs, then ankles.

Trevor’s mask was thrown on the floor beside the door, his hair nattered in all directions, the grease slicking it back and forwards; the ruggedness increasing by the aggression of your hands which migrated up his neck and onto his roots. Whenever you tugged, he grunted lowly and slid his finger between your opening, warming you up with his forehead nuzzled against your jaw, his breath causing you to exhale sharply.

“Trev, we gotta… we gotta wait.” You murmured despite enjoying his affections.

He scoffed in return and gently nibbled the surface of your neck before inserting a finger inside, changing your mind almost instantly as you demanded a closer contact, pulling his chest closer to yours. Making him grin.

“I can’t concentrate when I see a woman like you know her way around a gun.” He teased in your ear, his finger pumping in and out. “It gets me excited, sugar.”

He stole all your words away in an instance and your body crumbled into his arms. He worked as a foundation and kept you against the wall before feeling you grow wetter by moment. A small growl left his lips then he leaned close, kissing your lips harshly, removing his fingers one by one

“Fuck…” you sighed, leaning your head back and staring as he unbuckles the belt around his hips. Trevor still had his coat on but you still managed to see him tug out his boner that sat in his gloved hand. He really couldn’t help himself, resulting in quickies like this.

“Keep looking at me.” Trevor muttered under his breath while adjusting himself close, his hand spreading your legs more to make it easier for him as you are both standing up. The distressing restriction of flexibility was difficult until he grabbed onto your shoulders and pushed himself into you, whimpering and placing his lips against your forehead to control his heart rate.

It was hard to define how hot it was. You gasped for your life and grasped his broad shoulders when he entered, his cock buzzing with anticipation, roaming until his full length was buried – then pulling out to repeat the cycle. In and out, in and out, your back grinding against the cold wall; Trevor holding you with his arms and ensuring his cock stayed inside before proceeding forward. He also made sure you were looking at him, following his words.

The bathroom warmed up at the sound of skin-to-skin roughness and heavy breaths. Usually he was more vocal but the bathroom was settled near the main room where the crew were based. You could hear the background of yelling and shots being fired but that didn’t distract you from Trevor’s cock that sloppily thrusted into your pussy recklessly – like he had no worries nor consequences when approaching the spot that made your toes curl and mouth open with desire.

“Oh, God…” You whispered and felt him hold you closer.

“That’s right, baby,” Trevor moaned, “I’ll make you feel so fuckin’ good.”

Like he wasn’t already, your hips were toyed with and he helped you grind into him. Hearing him moan encouraged you to loosen up. Yet your ears were still listening out for the crew who were working against the clock. It made you feel bad, Trevor noticing by the stiffness of your hips before he grabbed your face with one hand and caressed your cheek with his thumb.

“Concentrate on me. Not them turds.” His voice cracked due to the arousal hitting him high.

“Uhuh…” You nodded your head hesitantly.

“Your pussy feels so good. How could I stay away?”

This made you smirk; his dirty words distracting you from the heist taking place.

He saw your reaction and pecked the nuzzle of your jaw again, ushering, “That’s my girl.”

After exchanging a saying, Trevor focused back onto the feeling and pierced his lower lip with his teeth, striving towards a comfortable pace that made you both groan with pleasure. He was known for coming quick so you were wary of how intense he was getting by the expression depicted from his face. And you saw his brows cross together, his eyes closed, meaning he was finding it difficult to hold back.

Nonetheless, you were already soaked enough beforehand that one touch made you grow butterflies – let alone his actual cock further tormenting your sex. If he was approaching fast, it made your mind speed-race into imagining the closeness and intimacy, craving his mood afterwards where he’d collapse and melt. You wanted him to come just for the taste of his exhaustion and vulnerability. The thought of it made you arch your back and softly moan, soon to be joining him as the feelings grew heavier.

“Ngh!” Trevor grunted and squeezed his eyes shut to embrace the excitement.

Moments were quicker than expected. You grabbed onto his coat and exhausted a moan as you felt him push back inside, at the same time coming, his face utterly painted with mania.

“Oh, fucking fuck!” He cried out. His legs shook and hands falling onto your forearms for support. Due to the haze of his orgasm, something else trickled down your legs and soon realised you had came previously as well. Your cum trickled across your thighs while Trevor panted heavily. His mullet was not recognisable anymore since it was coated with sweat and grease, slicked back and barely holding his crazed personality. It made him look ruined and pathetic – to your likeness.

He slowly pulled out and sighed at the state of himself; his trousers were ruffled with cum stains on them, and not to mention his coat with sweat dropping onto the fabric from his hair. This was no stranger to his usual mannerism but it would be obvious to the rest. Especially the red cheeks and his manic eyes.

Trevor kissed the corner of your mouth and then grabbed his hat.

You took this a sign to get yourself together, taking a deep breath and proceeding the formality of your appearance.

-

“Are we all set?” Michael called out after collecting his stack of cash. Once he received a nod, they returned to the main room and waited for any signs of cops.

Brad was checking the cameras outside until a door opened. All hostages were held in a locker room so this was completely out of their plans.

They all gushed around and aimed up their guns before seeing Trevor walk in with a smug grin, his hands raised.

“Woah. Hey, hey.” He purred in an idiotic sing-song voice.

Mikey’s face dropped into a snarl and he caught a glimpse of you standing behind Trevor. He began to understand what exactly happened, glaring towards his so-called best friend and shook his head. “You gotta lot of audacity, man.”

Trevor raised an eyebrow, “I ain’t hurting no one? We’re right on time.”

“Where the fuck were you?”

“I needed a one to one with our trainee here. Working on her aim and… Delivering.” He said in the most perverted mutter.

“By the looks of it.” Michael commented about his appearance before turning his back. “Don’t slack around anymore, T. We only just made it.”

“On it, Sargent.” Trevor grabbed onto your wrist and tugged you against him as they all exited the doors. Being sore and freshly used, it was difficult to catch up, but he’d look back with a small grin, offering you support when running towards the getaway car.

[creatingblackcharacters]

For the Favorite Black Characters challenge I wanna submit Alec Hardison from Leverage, and Leverage Redemption but I haven't watched that one lol

He's one of my all time favorite characters for about a million reasons! But primarily he is an incredibly sweet and open character, while technically a criminal, the show leverage focuses on his(and the team's) work to help people screwed out of money, property, or otherwise victimized by corporations, mobs, scams and more. He is one of the most emotionally mature and open characters of the cast, incredibly understanding, but also does not take any shit. He's a massive nerd, and acknowledged to be the best at what he does in the world. And he plays the violin! Quite well too(this is a plot point in an episode). He is the "guy in the chair" frequently, but he is also very frequently front and center in their schemes, scams, and heists, always passionate and excited to learn new things and always a champion for the cases he thinks are most important.

The Canon romance between him and another character is so cute and sweet! He always meets her where she's at, as they have similar but also massively different backgrounds, and the other half of the ship has a lot of issues relating to and understanding other peoole. He never rushes her, and never gets upset at her for it.

He grew up in foster care, but stayed in one home for long enough to still call his foster parent his Nana. Names all of his tech, and is like a kid in a candy shop when he gets new stuff for his set up. And heaven help you if you break something. Also is in charge of identity/alias creation and curation for the team. Really is the heart and soul of the group.

Aldis Hodge is like... The Man. Bro is a professional watch maker. I know he lets that genius slip into his acting. I've seen lots of gifs from that show, it sounds like a delight, and I'm happy to hear that he's so central a part in it 😊

[blockmenmakemecry]

HERES SOME MORE OF MY INSANE RAMBLINGS FOR THIS AU

Grian used to be apart of a smaller gang called Bad boys, the trio ending their small crime spree due to the injury and near death of Jimmy(whose code name was Tim/Timmy)

Impulse and skizz came as a duo having spent most of their lives together doing petty robbery (convenience stores/five finger discounts are a speciality of Impulses)

Skizz is very much the talker of the two, he would talk to ear off the cashier haphazardly waving the gun around while he talked to them asking them nicely to "be a sweetheart and put the money in the bag won't cha" or chatting to them about the rise in gas prices while Impulse was quick to discount the items they needed for the week

Scar or just Mr.Goodtimes as he was known before he joined GIGS was a seasoned hit man, hired to get rid of people if you had the cash to back it up. Sometimes he would take other things in trade for his services. Depending on what the target had done, some clients didn't pay at all.

Gigs has some extra crew members behind the scenes

Mumbo was hired to take care of the tech side of things, often listening in on their communicators to make sure they knew the layout of the heist locations and to update them should someone notify the police to their presence early.

Mumbo tried to join them for a heist in person but unfortunately the lanky mf is a bit too anxious for this line of work and sticks to staying on his side of the communicator

Gem has a background in medical having worked as a full time nurse in the ER before quitting and falling into the hands of GIGS

She was being over worked and underpaid so when she was offered a gig with GIGS through a mutual friend(pearl) she took it surprisingly quickly, they treated and paid her better anyways.

Pearl is a runner, shes constantly running around different jobs when she's needed. Something about not liking being tied down to a singular group.

Bdubs!!! Bdubs, cleo and Etho run the black market on guns and explosives.

Sometimes when making deals with them Grian swears he saw gunpowder on Bdubs face like hes been eating it. Mumbo often accompanies GIGS members to these trade deals, it still makes him anxious but he likes the trip out and getting to talk to them is always a nice change of pace.

[powderblueblood]

STEVE HARRINGTON X MILLION DOLLAR MAN !!!!

( idk if that’s what you meant 😭 pls delete if it’s not <3 )

send me 🎵+ character name and i’ll write a lil blurb inspired by a song from their playlist (you can also request songs and i will do my level best. god is a dj and i'm god)

▶ MILLION DOLLAR MAN - LANA DEL REY

you've got the world, but baby at what price? or how falling in love with notorious conman steve harrington began your career as a fence of stolen jewelry.

an: @stveharringtn cherry how the fuck did you know that i've been sitting on a conman!steve au for what feels like a hundred thousand years. PERFECT SONG PERFECT CHOICE lets begin i hope you like it

warnings: my blatant obsession with the oceans eleven cinematic universe and pathological need to create a heist au out of EVERYTHING. and CUSSING IS IN THIS TOO.

word count: 2.5k

MIAMI BEACH, 1990

“Whatever happened to a good old-fashioned safe?”

“I don’t trust a safe. I don’t trust me, I don’t trust you, and I most definitely don’t trust a safe.”

Dustin Henderson dangerously toes the edge of squawking, but he doesn’t know any better. At this point in his career as a thief, he doesn’t understand that when Steve Harrington says he doesn’t trust anyone, it’s not dismissive. It’s simply a missive, a fact of life. Everyone’s got knives, everyone’s got backs. Stands to reason that someone’s going to thrust and someone is going to get stabbed. 

Steve likes to take all the necessary precautions. 

He doesn’t trust anyone. 

“But her you trust?” 

Robin Buckley’s tone is hard. Robin Buckley is the only person that Steve could imagine himself trusting, and even so, they keep each other at an imperceptible arm’s length. To the outside world, they’re bosom buddies, best friends eating dirt together. But they both understand the business that they’re in. 

They keep their knives sharp.

They take all the necessary precautions. 

So why the fuck is Steve bringing an outsider into the ring. 

“I never said that.” Steve grabs a coaster and pointedly puts it where Robin might next aim her beer bottle, dripping with incriminating condensation. All over his agarwood coffee table. 

“It was inferred.” Robin pointedly puts the bottle down– to the far left of the coaster. Fuck you.

“I don’t see how that’s my problem.” Fuck you right back. 

“I know why he’s not using a safe,” Eddie Munson crows from the near background, wiping ash from his face. Eddie Munson, munitions expert. Eddie Munson, expert in blowing up any conversation within a three mile radius. Detonation test, by the way, that’s why his face is covered in shit. 

Steve holds out a hand–stop right where you are–before he can reach the agarwood table. 

“Because he’s–” and proceeds to make that finger in hole gesture that doesn’t crack a single smile in the room. Not even Dustin Henderson’s, mostly due to the fact that it’s happening behind his head. “Because he’s fucking her.” 

“It’s not that,” Steve and Robin say in unison, with Steve’s eyes narrowed on Eddie and Robin’s eyes trained unmercifully on Steve. 

It’s not that. They’re right. It’s worse. 

-

There’s something psychosexual about the game of tennis. The grunting, the tiny little skirts, the whacking of balls. The amount of money rich people love to spend on it. There’s something evil here, and you’ve committed yourself to a summer of trying to figure it out. 

Well, half-committed. Your real commitment is making enough tips to make a dent in your looming student loans. Post-graduation, a friend had given you a hot tip about private tennis clubs in Miami. They use hundos like napkins there, girl. Go get your piece. 

Your nana lives in Miami. Lived. She’s dead now, three months. You’re living in her condo now– technically in a seniors complex, assisted living type of thing, but it’s okay. It’s quiet. The people chat and force you to play bocce ball sometimes, the only sport you understand. 

Tennis, you don’t understand, other than the fact that these people have more money than they know what to do with and they’re all too repressed to grunt in the privacy of their own homes. 

After a time or two taking drink orders and bringing their rackets for in-house repair, they all blend into the same amorphous blob– the white outfits-on-white people effect does not help. They tip you in enormous digits, confident that you’ll remember them and treat them right, but you don’t have that skill. Some of your co-workers do, but you don’t. 

So, you notice when someone stands out. 

You smell him before you see him, and you know how that sounds, but bare with– 

The thickening, insistent incense smell of patchouli. Rainwater. Dust. Lemon.

When you turn from your place behind the bar, fetching your eighth double vodka soda in what seems like as many minutes for another bleach-blond man in his mid-forties, he’s leaning with one elegant elbow propped on the marble top. Sunglasses push over a shock of brown hair, streaked with blonde from the Florida sunshine. 

“Macallan, buddy. Up.” But he’s not talking to you. He’s talking to the bartender, Trent, the picture of incompetence. Trent nods to him, smiling broadly, but that flattens into a hard line as he turns toward the bar. 

This guy politely turns his head, eyes glossing right over you. But you are just staring a bullet hole right though him, and you can’t help it. He’s magnetic. He’s dressed in a light blue linen suit, a far cry from the tennis uniforms or the hollering Versace shirts every other man in the place seems to be wearing. The slope of his shoulders suggest something… provincial. 

He’s not a city boy– man. This is a man. 

You hear a clatter to your immediate right and see Trent pouring a finger of Chivas into a tumbler. 

“Oh, Trent, that’s not–” 

He passes it off to the linen gentleman, this Miami cowboy, with a serene smile. Most people wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between a Chivas and a Macallan, but you would. 

And you bet he would too. 

He departs in a cloud of the same heavenly scent he’d arrived in, heading courtside to watch trust fund kids fumble over backhands. 

“Trent,” you say, reaching for the correct bottle and a fresh tumbler. “Meet Macallan. For next time, okay?” 

The blond kid just shrugs at you. “All that shit tastes the same to me.” 

To you. 

You linger near the arm of his chair before speaking, suddenly able to hear your pulse in your ears. Up close, you can see moles dotting the hand holding the errant glass of Chivas. A big hand too, it seems to dwarf the crystal. 

“Excuse me,” you say, as steady as you can manage. It’s not very steady. You wish you would’ve thought to check your makeup before you made a beeline out here, but time, you couldn’t help but feel, was of the essence. 

He looks up at you over his sunglasses and you think your knees might buckle. 

Eyes like a dark wood. Inviting you in. The kind of eyes that don’t look through you. 

Christ, people had been looking through you all summer, but it didn’t matter now. 

“Is that the Macallan?” he mumbles conspiratorially. 

You just– nod, uniform-required ponytail bouncing. 

“I’ll trade you,” he says, about to pass off the glass of Chivas, but then he pauses. Takes you in, surveying you in a way that makes you blush, “if you can finish this one with me.” 

“Um…”

“Is that allowed?” he asks, “I don’t want to get you in trouble.”

Trouble be damned. The hell with trouble. Not only is your reputation as a little worker bee here untarnished, you can’t not sit with him. 

“I’m due a break, actually.”

“So I’ll trade you. Sit down, get comfortable. Give me the scoop on these tennis brats.”

He leans in to take the glass of Macallan from you, to pass off the glass of Chivas, and he brushes your hand. You experience the full entirely of a cliche, feeling electricity thrum under your skin– but then he passes a fingertip over the ring finger of your right hand. 

“That’s a pretty piece,” he hums, “Princess, right?”

For a second, you falter. Princess? Me? But it’s the ring he’s referring to– the yellow diamond engagement ring that once belonged to your nana. 

“Close!” you say, twisting the band on your finger in an act of self-consciousness. “Carré cut. Less pricey than a princess.”

“But just as pretty.” 

“And more rare, actually.” 

“Huh,” he says, and you smooth your skirt out with one hand, taking the seat nearest him. Enveloping yourself in the cloud of him. “Rarer than a princess.” 

From the court, a headband-wearing pre-teen in dazzling whites hollers fuck you, Mommy! Fuck you and your fucking bullshit topspin! I fucking hate this place!

“I’ll drink to that.” 

-

NEW YORK CITY, 1995

The car door slams behind Dustin Henderson, raindrops rolling from the brim of his baseball cap. It’s late November and a freezing rain has descended upon the Diamond District. 

Steve had at least hoped he might see sunshine when he got out of the joint. 

From the wheel, he cranes his neck to the back seat where Dustin sits, wiping the dripping water from the hat’s beak. His Thinking Cap. He’s had that thing since he was a kid and has somehow managed to keep it in immaculate condition. Dustin loves details. Dustin also loves risk. Which is why he’s the only man for this recon job. 

“Tell me,” Steve says, tone as level as he can possibly keep it. 

“She is way hotter than I remember.”

“Dustin.”

“Miami always makes people less hot. I think it’s the heat,” the kid chuckles, an obvious attempt at lightening a tense mood. See, they weren’t supposed to be here. They weren’t supposed to be looking for you. Robin hadn’t said don’t go looking for her, but that more or less should have been in the terms of Steve’s release from Sing Sing. 

“Dustin.” 

“She’s in there, just like you said she’d be in there. It’s a white room and it’s got every kind of goddamn sparkler you could think of. Three layers of security. Three. What kind of jewelry store you ever been to that’s got three layers of security?” 

A detail like that would make a less accomplished thief sweat. But Dustin and Steve share a knowing smile. 

“A jewelry store selling stolen jewelry.” 

“Exactly,” Dustin nods. “I thought she’d be front-of-house, but she’s got her own office. Tucked away in the corner. Appointment only.” 

“Any availability?”

The younger man smirks. “For me or for you?” 

-

Buddy’s is the last place in midtown you can get a decent drink and not be surrounded by throngs of yuppies. 

You know this, because you tend to date the yuppies in the throng. 

This is the one place that seems to be universally avoided by the trader set– it’s too dark and wooden in here, no brutalist architecture to make them feel at home while they rail lines of coke off their girlfriend’s compact mirrors. 

At Buddy’s, there’s a pianist that’s been propping up the corner for the last half century, minimum. A carpet that’s never been shampooed spreads across the floor and the mahogany is dented in all the places the light doesn’t hit. You can smoke indoors. Everything Happens to Me by Chet Baker will play, and everything feels like it’s going to be alright. At least until happy hour ends. 

You have a regular seat by the bar, a vantage point for people-watching. A gin martini, hold the vermouth, sits waiting for you by the time you arrive. On an average Thursday, you spend a couple of hours drinking three of these in an act of decompression from the violent fluorescent lighting of your workplace. From peering through a looking glass, examining the way light refracts through gemstones. 

From moving cargo that isn’t yours to move. 

This Thursday has been no different. 

You drag a finger along the condensation of your martini glass, it’s perfect conical shape a welcome weight in your hand. 

Your hair is piled up on top of your head, and you wear your reading glasses, and though you are beautiful, no one bothers you. Nothing bothers you. 

Until you hear a sound you haven’t heard in years. 

Tapping, against the bartop. One, one. Two, two. Three, three. Nerves. It was the only time you could ever tell that he was nervous. 

“Macallan, buddy. Up.”

Fucker.

-

He knew you by every single detail about you, let’s get that straight. 

He is entirely sure that in a room of a thousand clones of you, he would be able to pick out the real one, just from your minute sigh. From the way your one shoulder always slopes. From curl at the base of your neck. 

From the way you play with your grandmother’s Carré cut diamond, still sitting pretty on your right hand. 

He positions himself a number of seats away from you, from the seat that he’s been watching you sit at for a couple of nights in a row now. He does not approach you directly. 

Partially to see if you’ll still remember him. 

Steve is still vain, in his ways. He wants a spotlight shone on him. 

He only ever remembers the warmth of yours. 

He orders the same drink he ordered that day you met at the tennis club, the same way. He even hopes the bartender will mistake the Chivas for the Macallan and you’ll have to climb over the bar and charmingly correct him. But Antoine, as he’s heard you call him, has been behind this bar longer than Saint Peter at the pearly gates, so there’s no fear of that. 

You don’t react right away, and he doesn’t expect you to. He savors it, in fact, the opportunity to slyly watch you. Even if you’re seething. Even if you’re seething, you’re seething like a goddess might seethe. Horrifying and beautiful, all at once. The definite end of him. 

Then, the lack of attention you’re showing him stretches on a beat too long. 

“Excuse me,” he says from his spots a couple of seats down, “Can you do me a favor?”

You don’t respond. This doesn’t stop him. Never has.

“You mind tasting this for me?” Steve pushes the glass toward you, sending it sliding down the bar. You catch it with your right hand, yellow diamond catching in the light. A cut like that has never sparkled until you’ve worn it. “You think that’s Macallan or Chivas? Be honest.”

Steve’s fingers flex unconsciously as you lift the glass. Tilt it toward your lips. Still making no eye contact. But you don’t sip. 

“I think you should be in prison,” you say into the crystal tumbler and place it back on the bar top. “Why the fuck are you not in prison.” 

Steve closes the space between you, taking in that powdery perfume you’re still wearing after all this time. Candied violets. He settles into the beside you and props his palm under his chin. 

“Why are you selling stolen jewelry.”

He sees you tense for a brief moment, then release. Like you knew he’d say that, like you should have seen that coming. Because you know him, and you always see him coming. Other than Robin, you’re the only one that ever has. 

“I asked you first.”

“I asked you second.”

“So that when some bastard in a bad linen suit asks me to hold on to some stolen jewelry, I’ll at least know how much it’s worth.”

A beat. You stare Steve down with such naked disdain that his heart twists in his chest. You hate him, and he sees that, and with all the evidence stacked up against you, he should hate you too. But that wasn’t what bit him.

“That suit wasn’t bad, Princess.”

[markerslinger]

Here's a dump of some concepts and art for a TTRPG I'm working on!

The setting is fantasy 1920's in a the independent city state of Beetle's Bauble, a modern magical city heavily influenced by Manila, Singapore, Hong Kong, San Francisco, and Mexico City.

This city, is the coveted jewel of the imperialist eyes of the Old World (fantasy Europe) and the constant target of intrigue and espionage in attempts for them to steal new magical breakthroughs and technology.

The shadow of a looming modern magical war sweeps across the old world, while the New World must contend with a decades long war of attrition off the coast with Krakens. Massive magical beasts emerging in mass off the western coasts of the New World devastating the coastline.

This is all background and context in the game, because you're going to be playing as civic ghost hunters, keeping Beetle's Bauble safe from malicious spirits and a new emerging threat recently discovered by a bungled heist.

I'm constantly working on it and posting more detailed stuff on my Patreon! Please help support me while I work on this and a myriad of other unrelated projects I do for a living now!

You can help by becoming a patron, even at the dollar level it helps! For the cost of a coffee a month, you get access to all my digital goods, zines, worksheets, and printable tokens! Go here if you got the means to that!

If money is tight or you understandably want to use it for essentials, you can help out by following me on all my channels and telling other people! Reblog my stuff and follow my accounts! Followers help as a metric for interest in my projects and shows I go to use it so if there's interest in having me in an artist alley or show!

Follow me on insta @markerslinger and bluesky also @markerslinger!

-M

[deancasbigbang]

Title: Baby's Driver

Author: entropic_saudade

Artist: Sketcheun

Rating: Explicit

Pairings: Endgame Dean/Cas, Sam/Eileen, mentioned past Sam/Jessica, past John/Mary, mentioned background Belphegor/Ardat, past Kelly/Lucifer, past Bobby/Karen, implied past Dean/Lee Webb, mentioned past Dean/others, mentioned past Cas/others, Garth/Bess, past Bobby/Crowley, Chuck/Becky, past Chuck/multiple unnamed women

Length: 140000

Warnings: Major Archive Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence Other warnings: ableism, graphic depictions of illness and injury, graphic depictions of medical treatment, childhood cancer and associated diseases, canon-typical violence, canon-typical child neglect, canon-typical childhood trauma, trauma, sexual harassment, minor character death, mentioned sexual assault, kidnapping, alcohol use, mentioned alcoholism, guns.

Tags: Alternate Universe, getaway driving, heists, music, selectively mute Dean, neurodivergent characters, mutual crushes, found family, happy ending, pop culture references.

Posting Date: October 23, 2023

Summary: Dean has been working as a getaway driver for Crowley for the last fourteen years, and has survived by developing a few simple rules: always pick the right music, keep an eye on the time, never give out his real name, and most importantly, make no personal connections with anyone on the job.  Making no personal connections with anyone new is easy when he has difficulty talking in his own words.  Enter Cas, who, in order to pay for his nephew Jack’s life-saving medical treatment, decides to break bad by joining Crowley’s operations. Unlike most of his brothers, he’s new to the world of crime, but Gabriel’s list of survival tips, and their driver’s skills and quiet demeanor have a way of reassuring him.  Throughout the course of several months, their rules fall to the wayside as they fall for each other, each unable to say the words ‘I love you’ for differing reasons.  Cas’ past family life complicates things when Lucifer comes around, wanting to know how Cas is getting the money to pay for Jack’s treatment. Everything comes to a head, and they realize just how connected their world is when Dean is kidnapped.  A Baby Driver-inspired AU.

Excerpt: With little over four minutes counted on his internal clock, a trilling alarm pierced the air as three figures ran out, each with stuffed bags in tow.  Right on time.  While the other two piled in the back, one of the masked figures frantically pounded on the passenger side window with the butt of his shotgun. “Open the door!” he yelled, voice muffled.  Dean rolled his eyes, popping the handle, showing that it was already unlocked. Dean pressed play, not waiting for him to finish closing the door behind him before tearing off.   His tires burned rubber on the pavement.  One street, two streets, three streets whizzed by as Dean narrowly avoided red lights, ignoring honks and angry yells from other drivers, racing to get onto the next access road.  “Get your motor runnin’, head out on the highway!” Dean weaved between the beats of the music and the cars around him, riding the gas a little harder to try to put as much distance between their car and the bank as he could.  The goon in the backseat and Bela, who had played fake hostage, looked behind them and swore. Dean glanced up at the rearview mirror to see that civilian cars had started to part like the Red Sea for a squealing squadron. The sirens chased them down, joining in and almost drowning out the lyrics– “Yeah, darlin’, gonna make it happen”– so Dean cranked it up in response, lowering the rear windows so that they could put their firepower to use.  Whether it was intentional or coincidence, if it was set to some kismet choreography by the Powers That Be, or if it happened because Dean had a preternatural sense about timing things like this, Bela and Backseat shot their guns in sync to “Fire all of your guns at once,” popping the tires of two of the closest police cars. The cars skidded sideways and to a halt, causing a pile-up behind them.  Dean smoothly ducked under an overpass only to be greeted by a row of road spikes being laid up ahead when he emerged. With a glance to the side, he noticed that some construction workers had graciously left behind a gift for him, and decided to take advantage. Dean made a sharp turn, avoiding the teeth of the spikes.  The tempo of the drums picked up pace as Dean picked up speed. Bela put her seatbelt on and held on tight to the grab handle above her, while the guys in the backseat and next to him started begging when they realized what he was doing. “No, no, wait–!”  “What are you–?” “We can climb so high, I never wanna die…” Dean went hard on the throttle up the construction ramp, gathering enough momentum so they could soar over a concrete divider. In the few seconds that they were up off the ground, the bags in the backseat lifted off the laps of his accomplices, suspended for a moment — “Born to be wi-ild…”

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