#she had left a bunch of prepped food out

[dragons-and-yellow-roses]

I just feel defeated

[when-pigsfly]

// lucky charm

low honor!arthur morgan x female reader. mdni. dub-con fondling. i typed this on my phone and she’s unedited and and and and—

arthur knows dutch has his eye on you.

he’s got you by your elbow when he drags you back from the parlour house out in rhodes to meet the gang. assuages the concerns of having another mouth to pile food into with a long-winded account of your potential for pocket nibbling. you’d have nearly bested him, he says, if not for his reflexes. but arthur gets the feeling that it’s another one of his embellishments when you turn your cheek to look at a patch of dirt.

by the time he’s done, most have had enough time to take in the waxy pallor, the fact that you’ve been traveling alone, because what lady travels alone in these parts? in any parts? so the girls—save for molly—crowd in, pull your gills from his hook and shuffle you off to change you out of those dirty clothes before that wax starts to melt.

dutch is your second shadow around camp after that. telling you how smart you are for listening to his advice. smart is in short supply these days, apparently. he whispers it to you one night over the barrel that doubles as a table and a den for his rum.

(expensive—always expensive at night.)

he mentions that he saw you reading earlier, that’s good; it’ll be real helpful for something he’s got planned later. haven’t touched your rum, he reminds you. pushes the golden liquid toward your limp hand. it’s the good stuff—don’t tell mrs. grimshaw. oh, you don’t drink? no, no, that’s alright. fine by him. so he dumps what he’s poured into your glass into his while you take a dry gulp. he asks if you’ve got any family, pushes his knee just between where one of yours hugs the barrel, and the night noises seem to get louder.

not a one? oh, you poor thing—

and by this point, arthur’s already stuffed the heel of his hand into his ear to block out what he can and go to sleep. molly’ll pull dutch away at some point, anyhow.

so yes. arthur knows dutch has his eye on you.

(it’s just, he’s not quite sure he likes dutch right now.

but he loves a good joke.)

so when he catches you trying to put bullets through empty bottles out in the woods a week later, he crawls into your space. says looking pretty wont get you that shot.

you make it almost too easy for him. arthur watches as you shrink, and expand, and shrink again. you’re tripping over your sentences, and he thinks you bite the inside of your cheek one too many times, but you make him a deal: three bottles down in 15 seconds, and he has to take you out on a supply run.

your plan goes to shit, of course.

but arthur is nothing if not benevolent, so he brings you along anyways. tells you to stay close. no, a little closer than that. s’your head screwed on backwards, girl?

he’s not sure how you’ve managed to make it out here so long, so when he presses a searing palm to your lower back, brings you into his side, it’s with the careful consideration of someone that knows the kind of danger you’ll be in if you stray too far.

that’s what you’re telling yourself when your back is pressed to a wall of crates while shots are firing to your left, opposite shoulder scraping up against the brick wall to your right.

it’s a little harder when he’s squeezing your knee just a little too tight. rubbing circles with the pad of his thumb so hard that you think the flesh underneath might purple if the two of you make it to tomorrow. another bullet pops from his revolver, and when he sits back his body is a little closer. hand a little farther in. you’re almost certain he can feel the muscles jumping under his palm, even through the bunched up fabric of your skirt.

eyes shut, you wait for the noise to pass. it’s silent. your breathing is loud in your nostrils, but it’s silent. you can hear the people that’d caught you stealing following some other noise, and you go lax. finally. let this be the last time you try and play rough. your weight is in your heels, prepped to rock forward and stand, but a rough hand skimming your slit sends a jolt of electricity up your neck.

when you turn to look at arthur, he looks none the wiser. if the arm connected to the hand at your cunt weren’t attached to his body, you might be inclined to believe him.

(shh, shh, darlin’. i know, i know. just keep real quiet for me, hm?)

each pass of his thumb has you arching, knocking your head up against brick. you don’t have to look to know that your lips are drooling onto the ground below, but christ does it feel good. he’s gathering your arousal on his fingers, and you’re pleading for something, though you’re not sure what, and you can’t quite recall if you say thank you or why, or if your hips are wriggling away or pushing downward,

because arthur is pulling his fingers away from you just as quickly as he’d put them on you. like he’s grown bored. the sheen on his fingers catches the midday sun as he cocks the hammer on his revolver. loops his fingers over the trigger.

you watch in a daze as he leans out around the crates. but the moment he’s got his target in his sights, his arm falls into that well-worn position once he takes aim.

he’s nice enough to toss a cursory glance at you over his shoulder.

“thanks for the good luck charm, doll.”

bang.

(it’s dark when the two of you return; you’re thankful for it when you have to hobble back to your bedroll on shaky legs. you think you hear dutch clap arthur on the back, ask him what the hell he thinks he’s doing—)

[cottonlemonade]

Plan B [part 2]

word count: 1490 || avg. reading time: 6 mins.

pairing: post-time skip Kuroo x chubby!Reader

genre: fluff

warnings: none

part 1 for context

____________________________________________

Of course your staff had immediately informed you about the display from the day before when you came in the following morning. The barista even showed you a few snapshots he had taken with his phone and as much as you hated to admit it, you would have loved to have been there to see it in person. Pictures didn’t really do him justice, you thought. “Should I send those to you, manager?”, the barista asked with a knowing smirk. When you didn’t say anything but just stoically walked past him into the kitchen, you were glad when your phone buzzed a few seconds later and a small flood of pictures appeared in your chat. You cleared your throat and got to work.

Despite his regular appearances the last couple of weeks, the guy didn’t show up again the next day. Or even the day after that.

“Maybe he actually finally gave up?”, the waitress suggested with a shrug. She was counting the receipts while the barista helped you clean the espresso maker.

“I hope not. What else are we gonna do for entertainment around here?”

“How about your job.”, you suggested.

The barista let out a theatrical groan, which earned him a dish towel to the face.

At this point, a week had passed since the last time you saw the guy and although you found your thoughts wandering to his handsome smile every so often, you decided it was most likely for the better.

It was late in the evening and the café was closed for the day. The sky was gray and obviously brewing up something unpleasant so you wanted to make sure to send your team home as quickly as possible.

Soon enough, after hugs and waves goodbye, you locked the glass door from the inside and went to the kitchen to prep food for the next day.

You had just started to mash up a bowl of overripe bananas when a soft knocking made you look up and glance through the serving hatch.

The wind outside brushed past the shops with a low whistle and you could make out a very familiar shape in the dim light of the streetlamps.

More excited than you’d like to admit you made your way to the door.

“Sorry, I’m late.”, the guy’s voice was muffled through the glass.

You pointed to the Closed sign with a raised eyebrow. He put his hands together in a silent plea.

With a very big eye roll you grabbed the keys from your apron pocket and opened the door a handwidth.

“Hi.”

“Hey there.”

“I need a cake.”

“Goodbye.”, you closed the door again.

“Please!”, he called.

You shook your head and gestured to your ear to signal you couldn’t hear him.

He thought for a moment, then took out his phone and began to type something. A few seconds later he held the screen up against the glass.

Forgot to get cake for friend’s birthday.

You pulled a notepad from your belt and wrote “unfortunate” in response.

Low rumbling of thunder made you both look to the horizon. A few moments passed in which he threw you puppy dog eyes. You sighed loudly and unlocked the door again.

Not a minute too soon. With the click of the lock the first heavy raindrop hit the windowfront.

“Thank you.”, he said with a grateful smile.

“Don’t mention it. But you will have to live with what’s left of the day. The ones for tomorrow still need to be decorated.”

He followed you to the counter, having the decency to look apologetic as you waved him to come along further to check out the cakes in the fridge.

He chose a white chocolate cake with strawberries and you carried it back to the front to pack it up.

“How has your last week been?”, he asked as you worked.

“Uhm, I made my best cinnamon rolls yet and finally found my TV remote. So pretty good, I’d say. How about you?”

“Not as good as yours apparently. Pretty busy. I had to do some traveling and give a bunch of presentations. Sorry I couldn’t come by to bring up that counter you keep on the blackboard.”

You closed your eyes and made an indefinable noise. You'd have to talk to your staff about the concept of discretion.

“Technically, that means I owe you at least one.”

“Oh, please don’t.”

He swaggered closer and, leaning on the counter, considered you for a moment.

You held his gaze, expecting the worst.

“Wait, I… actually forgot what I wanted to say."

You tried not to smile but were betrayed by your pursed lips.

"Gotta be honest, of all your flirting so far that has been the best one."

He gave you a half smile.

"How about you don't see it as flirting. See it as me just being extra friendly to someone extra beautiful."

You scoffed but couldn’t stop a short sort of giggle escaping your lips.

After a moment’s pause he added, now with genuine sweetness, "Go out with me. Just once. I promise it'll be fun. And really, what's the worst that can happen?"

"Where do I even start?"

"Okay. But besides that, the worst that can happen is that we realize we don't have anything in common."

You looked at him, your head slightly tilted in thought.

"Like, what are you doing tonight after work?", he suggested.

"Well, I’m meeting some friends."

"What will you be doing?”

“A museum has a science night we wanna check out.”

“Oh! Really?”, he asked excitedly, dropping his flirtatious manner completely. And sure enough this little piece of information carried you through the subject of scientific fun facts to books to hobbies and so on. The rain had lessened significantly but an hour later he was still there, sitting on a chair at the kitchen island, talking while you worked, peppering in little compliments here and there but keeping it mostly pleasantly fluffy.

When you eventually parted in front of the café, Kuroo hesitated, obviously thinking about how to say Goodbye. In the end you both settled for slightly awkward smiles and went your separate ways.

He had an extra spring in his step as he arrived at the restaurant, incredibly late but incredibly happy. His friend accepted the cake with a tipsy, somewhat off-key belt of “Happy birthday to me!” and pointed to a free seat next to Kenma.

"Someone's looking chipper.", his former setter commented and accepted a slice of birthday cake, “Why did you leave me here alone?”

“You’re hardly alone, Kenma-kun.”, the older one said vaguely, "I had to pick up the cake first. I only remembered when I was already at work."

"So… is it from that little café?"

Kuroo shrugged, but was unable to hide a grin.

His friend lifted a brow. Originally, Kuroo hadn’t meant to talk about it. About how he didn't expect you two to actually have so much in common, about how funny you were, how smart and how gorgeous you looked even after a long day at work. How you practically made him beg to get into the café at all and how easy it was to talk to you once the ice was broken. It took him a few minutes to finally stop gushing.

"Sounds like a very promising night.", Kenma said approvingly, hoping he’d finally be free of his friend’s whining about why you wouldn’t go out with him, "So you got her number, then."

Kuroo's dreamy expression fell at once. "Oh.”

The sun glistened on the streets still soaked from last night’s rain but the air smelled fresh and you hummed to yourself when you thought about the previous evening. As you unlocked the cafe’s front door you heard someone calling your name and turned around.

Your stomach dropped when you spotted Kuroo on the other side of the road, waiting to cross safely.

“Good morning.”, he said, a little out of breath but with a winning smile.

“Good morning. What brings you by so early?”

“I have a full day today so I wouldn’t be able to come by otherwise.”

You tried hard not to look too pleased.

“I was wondering, if - I mean, I forgot to - Could I have your number?”

Pretending to think about it, you opened the door.

“Do you want that on a to-go cup?”

“That would be easier to brag with.”, he said, nodding thoughtfully and stepping in behind you.

While you prepared his usual, Kuroo watched you closely and you weren’t sure if the pink in his cheeks was from his jog here or something else.

When you handed him his tea a few minutes later he stood there, looking you up and down with his cheeky grin.

You squinted in suspicion.

“You look even cuter than usual today.”

“Get out before I charge you double.”

He lifted the cup and winked. “Talk to you later.”

____________________________________________

[claimedcrossbows]

Served! Sanji x Fem!reader

Slight anime spoilers/foreshadowing.

This is OPLA Sanji though.

-

You were laid down in your quarters trying to keep the vomit down after you had been sick the entire night. Your head was killing you and you were simply not ready for whatever chaos was happening downstairs, but you had a kitchen to run, so you slowly got dressed, and slowly made your way downstairs to absolute anarchy.

“Y/n! We’re out of crawfish and it’s tonight's specials!” Your little sister says immediately approaching you.

“How did we run out of crawfish?” You groaned.

“Rasha forgot to order more and the nearest port ship is still a day away.” She explains frantically.

“Substitute it for lobster in the mac and cheese, and 86 the Crawfish Etouffe Balls.” You demanded hoarsely your vocal chords still fried from vomitting all night.

“Y/N are you okay? You look awful.” Your sister says looking at your haggard appearance and your overall sweaty pale face.

“Great, now go do as I told you, and make it quick rumor has it a critic is dining with us tonight!” You say the last part loud enough to attract your team of cooks attention.

“YES CHEF!” A chorus of voices ring out as you nod and all but wobble your way to the fridge for some much needed seltzer water.

Of all the days for one of the most known critics on the grandline to come pay your restaurant a visit it just had to be today when you could barely stand up right.

Fortunately for you you had a great team of chefs under your command as you watched them all hurry about prepping and making numerous dishes that looked about as masterful as could be.

You were by far one of the best restaurants on the grandline, your restaurant resided on a small beach in a lighthouse where many ships sailing by frequented your restaurant when they were in need of a good meal and conversation.

And you were no doubt one of best female chef’s the grand line had ever seen.

At just age 7 you had won your local cooking competition taking home a wonderful gift basket of exotic spices that had eventually lead you to your well known name of The Spice Queen.

You specialized in Cajun styled cooking, but you could cook just about anything in any style, you were well versed in cuisine having read numerous cookbooks throughout your life, you even knew quite a few special recipes to help revitalize sailors who were in need of more than just a flavorful meal.

Many pirates sought you out after large scaled battles that left them in tatters, if anyone asked any of those pirates what saved their lives and healed their wounds, they would name you.

Which is how you got your second name, as The Crock Pot Doc.

Yep, one taste of your special famous soup was said to cure a man on his death bed.

But none of that mattered if you couldn’t pull off a perfect dinner service tonight of all nights. You had to make sure this critic was absolutely blown away and you weren’t about to let a little food poisoning stop you.

So you chugged your seltzer water and began mincing and julienning veggies.

That was until a loud bang echoed throughout the entire lighthouse followed by a bunch of screaming and crying.

You quickly put down your knife and made it to the dining area where you absolutely could not believe your eyes at what had unfolded before you.

“WE NEED THE CROCK POT DOC, BRING THEM,PLEASE HURRY!” A man in a straw hat yellled looking around the room of patrons and chefs who had also exited the kitchen to see what was happening.

You stepped forward trying to process the sight before you, a group of pirates had barged into your restaurant all with desperate faces and who you could only assume was the captain carrying a orange haired woman who looked to be on the brink of death.

“I’m her, what the hell is going on??” You asked trying to wrap your head around this and the current state of your dining room that has been nearly destroyed by their barging in.

The straw hat man hastily made his way toward you carrying the woman with desperate eyes.

“I’m Monkey D. Luffy, and you have to save my friends life.” He said shakily but with a determination you could respect.

You laughed in disbelief, this man trashes your dining room on a special night and expects you to just save his friends life??

“And why would I do that?” You scoff looking at the state of the girl who looked worse than you felt.

“Because I’m the man who will be king of the pirates, and I promise I will pay you whatever you need and more if you save Nami’s life.” He says unwavering.

A few of your cooks scoff and laugh, “King of the pirates? This kid?” One of your cooks laughs.

You frown, “I don’t work for free, especially not when I have a important critic frequenting my restaurant tonight, there’s a doctor village not to far from here maybe a day’s travel at the Drum Kingdom-”

“She doesn’t have a day!” Luffy stresses.

Your frown deepens, your about to protest before a wave of nausea makes you wince. “Look I don’t have time for this I’m sorry but you need to leave-”

“Madam.” A voice behind this so called Captain Luffy rings out and you look past the kid and sees a tall blonde man in a black suit stepping forward, his face tense but gentle as he addressed you. “I understand your busy, but she will die if she doesn’t receive some kind of medical attention and I hear your not only one of the best cooks on these seas, but your cooking even rivals most medicines prescribed by doctors.” He says as he walks up to you.

“And you are?” You ask raising a skeptical brow.

“Sanji, The best cook in all of the east blue and maybe the world Mam’.” He says confidently as he shoots you a wink.

You immediately laugh, “Wow you have a lot of nerve to say that to my face.”

His face drops as he immediately shakes his head, “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to offend you I just-”

“Well you wouldn’t be a good cook if you weren’t cocky, so there must be some talent behind your words.” You say crossing your arms. “Your Sanji, Chef Zeff’s prodigy I assume.” You say watching his eyes widen.

A small smirk crosses his lips, “Ah, so you’ve heard of me madam?” He says flirtatiously.

“Yeah, I heard a flirty handsome chef trained by Chef Zeff himself has been making his name in the culinary world as one of the best chef’s out here.”

“Oh really?” He says his smile widening.

“Yeah, but it looks like they only got the flirty part right.” You smirk back watching his face drop.

“Sanji’s the best cook on the grandline!!” Luffy immediately defends.

“Yet he can’t make a healing dish?” You interject.

Luffy grunts in annoyance, “Look we don’t have time for this Nami’s dying will you help us or not!?” He shouts angrily.

“N-”

“You say a food critics coming tonight right?” Sanji suddenly says.

You turn to him and nod, “Yes and I need to get ready-”

“You look sick, how do you expect to impress a critic and you can barely stand up right?” He asks staring directly into your eyes.

“How the hell do you know i’m sick?” You questioned.

“I know when a lady’s suffering.” He says gently.

You didn’t know how to respond to that so you just let him continue.

“So how about a deal, I help lead your cooks tonight and pull off an exsquisit meal to impress the critic, and you in turn heal my friend?” He says.

“And what makes you think you can make any of my dishes East Blue Boy?” You challenge, honestly intrigued by the cockiness of this man.

“I’m a fast learner mam, just give me a sample of what needs to be cooked and i’ll make it.” He says.

You were about to deny this foolish request until the sounds of numerous peoples stomachs gurgling suddenly caught your attention.

“Uhhhggg, Chef Y/N we don’t feel so good.” One your top chefs say holding their stomachs.

“Neither do I.” Chef Rasha groans.

“Oh no..” Another chef groans running out the room and into the bathroom.

“I feel fine?” Your little sister says looking at you in disbelief as more and more chefs ran out the room in distress as you watched your customers quickly flee out the front door.

You couldn’t believe this..your entire staff had contracted food poisioning.

You look between Luffy and the dying woman and then back at Sanji as your stomach churned even more.

Uhg.

“Fine, but my little sister will be your sous chef, she’s basically the mini version of me so listen to her directly got it?” You say approaching the blonde man who’s flirtatious smile made its way back onto his face.

“Anything you say Madam-’ ”And please stop with the Madam, Call me Chef, Y/N.”

“Chef Y/n, beautiful name, fits a beautiful woman.” He says.

Your stomach churns again as you quickly grab your little sisters chef hat and proceed to heavily vomit directly into it.

“Wow Sanji, your flirting literally made her vomit.” A man says placing a pitiful hand on his shoulder.

“Shut it Usopp!” Sanji hisses. “I’m going to have my friends help me considering your now understaffed, is that okay?” He asks looking at your concerningly handing you a handkerchief from his suits pocket.

“Fine, but don’t let that one” You say pointing to luffy. “Anywhere near the food.” You say getting a strange vibe from the straw hat boy just from the way he was eyeing your customers abandoned plates of food they had left.

“Trust me, I wasn’t.” He admits.

“Fine its a deal.” You say reaching out your clammy shaky hand that he immediately picks up and kisses.

Your face contorts into disgust as you take your hand back, just who did you let in your kitchen??

-

Hey guys wanted to do a little Sanji One shot I think this will be a two parter but I thought it would be so cool if Sanji met another incredibly talented chef who just so happened to be a woman right before we meet Chopper at the Drum Kingdom arc!!

[sailor-aviator]

Two Birds: Chapter One

Two Birds: Chapter One

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader x Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw

Summary: Growing up in the midwest meant that you weren't exposed to many of the dangers of the world, and it also meant that you missed out on some of what life had to offer. Taking a leap, you move to New York City with a few personal belongings and the little money you have left in your savings. You become good friends with your roommate and, by extension, the people at the club she works at. However, it isn't long until you catch the eye of not one, but two mafia bosses that rule the city with an iron grip. Will you stay out of their clutches, or will you give in and become another pawn in their wicked games? (Mafia!AU)

Content Warnings: Cursing, Mentions of guilt, Gentlemen's club (off hours), Flirting, Handsy Bradley and Jake, Pet names, no use of y/n. I think that's it, but please let me know if I missed something!

Word Count: 3.9k

Series Masterlist

A couple of weeks had passed, and you were now entering your third month of living in the city. Annie had been right, you had become fast friends after long nights spent gabbing about anything and everything, and late mornings after the previous night’s binge drinking. Your roommate was a fun, happy-go-lucky soul, and you loved her all the more for it.

Your job at one of the local bakeries near the heart of the city provided you with enough money for your portion of the rent, food, and enough to spend however you saw fit, a feat you still weren’t sure how you managed. Your boss was a lovely older woman in her mid-fifties who greeted you with a smile every morning as you clocked in for your shift. Thankfully, she preferred to do the early, early morning prep work herself along with her daughter, so you weren’t expected to walk through the doors until sometime around eight every morning.

You enjoyed the tediousness of the job, the routine giving you something to latch on to in the unfamiliarity of the big city. Annie had been coaching you diligently on how to navigate the never-ending, concrete streets and sprawling subways. Your Midwest manners were quickly stamped down by your burgeoning experience with the different crowds that inhabited the city.

“Don’t walk around at night by yourself if you can avoid it,” Annie had told you during your first week there, the two of you headed back to the apartment after you had decided to go out for dinner. “There are a bunch of crazies out here, Mousie. Me? I’m used to this place, but you got that air about you that just invites people to take advantage.”

You hummed, trotting a few paces to try and keep up with her much longer legs. She cast you a sideways glance with a grimace of an apology.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean anything bad by it,” she sighed, hands pushed into her pockets as she slowed slightly to give you a break. “You’ll perfect the art of the ‘don’t fuck with me’ vibe before you know it, Mouse.”

And you liked to think that you had come along way in the few weeks you had spent in the city, perfecting your mean, scary face so that people wouldn’t approach you. Some still did, but the number had certainly decreased. Though, you still felt the nagging feeling of guilt every time you outright ignored someone, averting your eyes and hanging your head as you walked a little faster down the street.

Today was a day you, thankfully, had off. Though, you still rose early, your body already used to the schedule of the bakery, and as you stretched in bed, your mind wandered to the container of chocolate chip cookies that sat on the counter in the kitchen. A gift from your boss, albeit they were cookies that would have been thrown in the trash anyway due to their age of only two days.

You lay in bed for the next half hour, dozing as the light of the day streamed in past your curtains, illuminating your still plainly decorated room. Annie had offered to take you shopping for more decor, but you had insisted on earning your own money and paying for your own decor.

“It’s not like I don’t have the extra cash, babe,” she told you, lips pulled back into a grimace as she watched you flit about the apartment.

“I’m serious, Annie,” you told her, glancing over your shoulder at her as you set the mop to the side. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate it, but I don’t want to take advantage of your kindness either.”

“How is it taking advantage if I’m offering?” She muttered with a scoff. You had shot her a warning look before placing your hands on your hips.

“I need to prove to myself that I can do this,” you sighed, feeling your shoulders slump.

“Alright, alright,” she relented, giving you an understanding smile. “But if I give you gifts, you have to accept them. It’s a law or something.”

You smiled fondly at the memory, pulling a pillow close to your chest, one of Annie’s many “gifts” as she called them. Your eyes flickered open with a stifled yawn before you lazily rolled over on to your feet. You padded out the door and down the hall to your shared bathroom, Annie’s soft snores filtering out past her closed door. Her job often kept her up until the early morning hours, and there were days where you were headed off to work just as she was walking through the door.

You brushed your teeth and got ready for the rest of the day, settling on a pair of faded jeans, a plain, white t-shirt underneath a beige cardigan and a pair of simple sneakers. You didn’t have much planned for the day, but you had been meaning to check out one of the bookstores downtown. Your groceries were getting low too, and you knew you’d have to go and get more soon, adding a trip to the grocery store to your list of things to do that day. You settled on the couch with a cup of tea, inhaling the aromatic steam that wafted up towards you as you turned on the TV, the news popping up to greet you. A string of violent crimes plagued the city, but you had slowly become accustomed to that news as well during your time there.

Eventually, you grew bored with the news, choosing instead to turn on the latest crime documentary from Netflix, the serious tones of the detectives and witnesses filling the quiet, morning air and lulling you back to a place somewhere between sleep and awake.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed when the sound of Annie’s door opening jolted you awake. You blinked, shuffling to sit up on the couch just as she trudged through the doorway, rubbing sleep from her eyes and looking around blearily.

“Wha’ time’s it?” She asked, voice thick with sleep as she rubbed her face. Her hair was sticking up every which way, her eyes still ringed with the tinges of last night’s makeup. You knew she must have had a particularly late night.

“Uh,” you started, glancing at the clock above the stove, “just before noon.”

“Shit!” She hollered out, eyes growing wide and panicked as she turned to sprint back into her room. You heard a commotion from her room before footsteps sounded in the hall, leading to the bathroom where the shower creaked to life, the spray hitting the tub. You sighed, hoisting yourself up off the couch to rinse your mug out in the sink. The shower didn’t run long, and soon you heard the creak of the valves turning off, soft thuds and movement coming from behind the door. Annie burst out, drying her hair furiously as she padded into her room wearing nothing but the small towel wrapped around her.

“Cannot believe I overslept,” she griped, her door closed just enough to provide herself some privacy as you waited in the kitchen.

“It’s a bit early for you to head down to the club, isn’t it?” You asked, brow furrowing. Usually, Annie didn’t head in for another couple of hours, and you heard her let out a huff as she appeared back in the kitchen dressed in a pair of jeans, fitted black top and matching heels. Even running late, she still looked immaculate.

“Bosses want us there extra early today to try out some new routines,” she explained.

“Bosses?” You frowned. “I thought your boss was Reuben?”

“He is,” she assured you, digging through her purse to make sure her keys were still inside. “But the big bosses are coming in today.”

“Who are the big bosses?” You asked, leaning over the counter. She paused, pressing her lips firmly together before giving you an uncertain look.

“No one you wanna get involved with, Mousie,” she said finally. “I mean, they’re nice enough guys, but…”

She trailed off, and the implication wasn’t lost on you. You offered her a tight smile, glancing at the stovetop clock once more before waving her off.

“You better get going before you’re even more late,” you warned, nodding to the time. She cursed again, shouting a quick “thanks” over her shoulder as she sped out the apartment, the door slamming closed behind her. You let out a sigh, rolling your eyes affectionately after her before grimacing at the apartment. Perhaps you would make it to that bookstore another time. For now, you settled on grabbing your own purse to go grocery shopping.

You had just made it back into the apartment when your phone buzzed. You settled the bags on top of the counter, your fingers aching with the strain of the multitude of bags before fishing your phone out of your bag. Annie’s name flashed across the top, and you quickly unlocked your phone before your eyes landed on the all too familiar words.

I forgot something at the apartment.

Could you grab it for me and bring it by the club pretty please? :(

You huffed out a laugh, typing out a quick response to let her know that of course you would bring whatever it was she forgot to the club for her.

You’re the best! Came her even quicker reply, and you just knew she had been pacing nervously backstage, biting her fingers in that terrible habit she had when she was nervous.

It’s a pair of silver heels and a hot pink boa. They should be on my desk chair. You can’t miss them!

You shook your head, noting how she herself missed them in her rush out the door this morning, but dutifully made your way to her room, pushing the door open as you stepped inside. Sure enough, the heels and the boa lay draped on top of the chair in question, and you quickly gathered them up in your arms to bring back into the kitchen. You grabbed your phone, firing off a quick reply.

I’ve gotta put groceries up really quick, but then I’ll head over. Give me about an hour?

Anything for you, Mouse! I owe you!

You laughed outright at that. This wasn’t an uncommon occurrence for your roommate, and you often found yourself making the trip down to the club to bring her something she forgot. You set your phone down and made fairly quick work of the groceries, storing the bags underneath the sink for later use. You grabbed your things before grabbing the heels and the boa, pausing to grab the box of cookies that still sat on the counter before making your way out the door and locking it behind you.

It was about a twenty-minute train ride to the neighborhood where Annie worked, and you exited the subway with a squint as your eyes readjusted to the daylight. You walked a block south, coming upon the familiar, unassuming building with a sign that read “The Hard Deck” in a pretty, pink scrawl across the top of the entrance. A man dressed in all black stood by the door, his face mean and intimidating with eyes hidden behind a pair of dark sunglasses. You grinned up at him as you approached, and a hint of a smile pulled on his lips as he caught sight of you.

“Hey Tony,” you greeted, wiggling your fingers with the hand that held the heels and the boa. “How’s your day been?”

“It’s better now that you’re here, Mouse,” he chuckled, relaxing his posture somewhat. “I take it Annie forgot something again?”

“Yeah,” you shrugged, rolling your eyes playfully. “Name a time she hasn’t, you know?”

He laughed at that, his head resting against the brick of the building as he rolled his shoulders out.

“She used to tear out of here like a bat from hell before you came to town, ya know,” he grinned. “Wonder what she’s gonna do when you’re not around anymore to spoil her like this.”

“Well,” you started, “hopefully that won’t be for a while yet. Now, do you want a cookie before the others eat them all?”

“Thought you’d never ask,” he laughed, pushing off from the side of the building to peek into the box you held in your hand. He grabbed one, taking a bite and humming as you walked past him and into the building.

When you had first found yourself stepping into Annie’s work, you had been apprehensive, expecting a seedy, little hole in the wall with sticky floors and tacky decor. Instead, you were greeted with a clean, sultry business that Annie told you had earned a reputation of being the best in the city.

“It’s actually pretty classy,” she had told you when you first asked her about what she did for a living. “It’s a lot of high end clients that frequent there, and they tip pretty well too. It’s decent pay to begin with and the manager is a pretty good guy too.”

You had met Reuben on one of your first trips to the club, the handsome man not being at all what you expected from a manager. He was young, for one thing, hovering somewhere between mid-thirties and forty if you had to guess. He was dressed to the nines every time you saw him, a friendly smile always on his face as he greeted you. He was nowhere to be seen now as you strolled into the Hard Dark, voices filtering out from different areas of the large room and from backstage as your eyes swept the area.

There were no windows, the only lights coming from the artificial ones that hung overhead. The main color was black, a red carpet curving across the floor and red drapes hanging from off the walls with gold accents placed everywhere. It gave a feeling of old Hollywood, almost.

“There you are!”

You turned just as Annie rushed over to you, pulling you in for a tight hug. She pulled away, grabbing her heels and boa from you.

“You’re a lifesaver, Mousie!” She beamed, and you waved her off.

“I wasn’t doing much anyway,” you told her, shifting the box of cookies into your now free hand. “I brought the cookies too for everyone.”

“You’re so sweet, babe. Come hang out with us for a while,” she cooed, pulling you further towards the main stage. Familiar faces of the different staff greeted you as you walked through, several waving and others following you once they spotted the bright pink box in your hands. You often brought goodies from the bakery, making you an instant hit with the employees at the club.

“What did you bring for us today, Mouse?” Bryan, one of the bartenders called.

“Cookies!” You called back with a smile.

“You’re such a godsend, hun,” said Lindsey, one of the other dancers. “I never have time to go to this place before it closes.”

“One of the perks of being roomies with an employee there,” Annie grinned at her, swiping a cookie as you set the box down on the stage and opened the lid. Several others clambered toward the stage to snag a cookie before retreating and allowing the next wave in. You were so caught up in the conversations happening around you that you didn’t notice the figure come out from the back.

“What’s going on here?” A deep timber asked. You noticed Annie stiffen visibly beside you before turning your head to look at the newcomer. He was tall, brown hair curled against his forehead that pointed towards a pair of golden brown eyes. Scars littered the golden skin of his face, and you couldn’t help but notice the strong muscles that lay hidden beneath his dress shirt. Your lips twitched at the sight of the mustache that hung above his upper lip, but you quickly tamped it down as you took in the nervous faces around you. He swaggered over towards where you stood, the small crowd parting easily for him, and you had to tilt your head back just to meet his gaze.

“Shouldn’t you all be working?” He pointed out. His voice was light, playful even, but the underlying warning in his tone was palpable, and all but Annie and yourself hastened to get away. You swallowed slightly, shifting uneasily at the change in the atmosphere. Annie stood still next to you, not saying a word which was unlike her.

“And who might you be?” He asked, leaning against the stage with a smirk. “Think I would have remembered a pretty face like yours. You lookin’ for a job, hm?”

“She’s my roommate,” Annie replied before you could say anything. “She’s just stopping by to drop off a few things I forgot is all.”

“Is that so?” The man hummed, peeling his eyes away from you long enough to cast her an unreadable look before they shifted back to you. “So you’re the little mouse Reuben mentioned pops by from time to time, huh?”

“I guess,” you muttered, fingers playing with the hem of your shirt as you looked anywhere but at him. You felt his smirk grow as he leaned into you, his nose almost brushing yours in the process. You squeaked at the sudden proximity, eyes widening as the smell of his cologne encircled you, the scent of sandalwood, vanilla, and something woodsy ensnaring you as he spoke.

“My name’s Bradley, Mouse,” he murmured, lips curling into a sultry smile as he laced a finger through the loop of your jeans. “You gonna give me a taste?”

You had the distinct feeling that he wasn’t talking about the cookies that still sat on the stage. Without thinking, you grabbed the box, bringing it between you and Bradley, putting some distance between the two of you enough so that you could try to scramble for a coherent thought.

“Here,” you squeaked. Bradley looked stunned for a second, brown eyes wide as he looked from you, down towards the box. There was a moment of still silence before he tossed his head back with a loud laugh, one that caused several people nearby to jump. He looked back at you with a wicked grin, taking the box from your hand and putting it back on the stage with an added chuckle. He grabbed your waist, pulling you flush against him and bringing a hand up to cradle your face as he leaned down, his breath fanning over you.

“I might just have to keep you, honey,” he purred, eyes hooded as he drank you in. Your face warmed at the combination of his words and his hand around your waist that slowly started to wander.

“What are you doing, Rooster?”

You jumped at the new voice, turning your head with a gasp as your eyes landed on the stranger standing next to Reuben. His square jaw was clenched in what you could only assume was annoyance, narrowed, green eyes moving from Bradley down to you. His face softened slightly, brow arching as he took you in. You thought you saw his lips twitch in the hint of a smirk before neutrality settled over his features once more.

“Hey, Mouse!” Reuben greeted, his friendly demeanor almost unnerving. He acted as if you weren’t being held captive in the arms of a strange man, instead looking from you towards where Annie stood behind you. “I didn’t know you were stopping by today.”

“Annie forgot something,” you offered weakly, breath still ragged from how close Bradley still held you.

“Rooster,” the blond man spoke up, his voice commanding attention, “you’re scaring the poor thing. Why don’t you let her go?”

Bradley grunted but let you go slowly, shooting you a wink as you backed up a couple of steps. The blond man stepped forward, hands shoved into the pockets of his expensive looking pants as a slow smirk crawled onto his lips.

“So you’re the little mouse we’ve heard so much about,” he drawled, stopping just in front of you. You shrugged, not saying anything as you averted your gaze. The man arched a brow at you, taking a hand out of his pocket to place a finger underneath your chin, lifting it so that you met his emerald gaze.

“Words, darlin’,” he purred, something twinkling in his gaze as you looked at him. You swallowed thickly.

“Yes,” you replied, earning a hum. The man’s finger traced along your jaw before his hand cupped the side of your neck gently, almost possessively.

“Good girl,” he praised, and something inside of you unexpectedly preened at the words. He leaned forward, the smell of patchouli and a hint of citrus hitting your nose at the movement. His lips brushed against your ear as he murmured, “my name is Jake.”

A shiver ran up your spine, and you felt his lips curl into a grin at your reaction.

“Shouldn’t we be getting back to business?” Bradley snapped, looking put out as Jake withdrew from you. The blond snorted with a roll of his eyes as he stepped back towards his companions.

“Since when do you give a shit?” He asked, the challenge hollow as he kept walking, Reuben quick to fall in line behind him. Bradley frowned as he watched Jake walk past, a muscle twitching in his jaw. His eyes looked back at you, lips curving in a thoughtful smile before shooting you a wink and following his two companions.

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding, Annie coming up behind you quickly.

“I am so sorry,” she cried, blue eyes big and sorrowful.

“Why are you sorry?” You asked with a snort, brushing your hands down your rumpled shirt. “They’re the ones who’ve never heard of personal space, apparently.”

“Babe, do you not realize who they are?” She asked, brow furrowing as she studied you, lips pursing as she shook her head.

“Of course you don’t,” she muttered, placing a hand on her forehead as she sucked in a breath. “God, I’m so fucking stupid sometimes. How could I forget to tell you one of the most basic things?”

“Annie, what are you talking about?” You asked, crossing your arms as a sinking feeling came over you. Her eyes snapped open as she looked at you with an uncharacteristically solemn expression.

“There’s a lot more to this city than you realize,” she told you. “There are groups always grabbing for power and control of it, and right now there are two who are going head to head: the Daggers and the Harpies. You just met the two men who are in charge of the Dagger syndicate, Mouse: Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin and Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw. ”

Your heart sank, and your head involuntarily whipped around towards where the group of men walked off to. You spotted them sitting in one of the booths, Reuben talking animatedly about something or other, but your stomach did a flip as you realized that both Jake and Bradley were already looking at you. The blond arched a brow at you while the brunette waggled his fingers at you with a playful smirk. Annie followed your gaze, sighing before continuing.

“And it looks like you’ve gone and caught their eye.”

A/N: Thought we might take a quick break from talking about Angel!Jake and go back to Mafia!Jake and Mafia!Bradley, and they're finally here! What do we think of them from our first meeting? As always, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated. If you would like to receive updates on when I post, please follow my sideblog (@sailoraviator-library) and turn on post notifications! You can also find my works on AO3 under the username sailor_aviator. Until next time!

[villalunae]

im in such a utena mood right now i think anthy would not use nuclear war codes if she had them but would instead drop hints of incoming nuclear winter to nanami by messing with the plants in the birdcage and mentioning dead roses are often considered an omen of war (lie) so that nanami attempts to discredit her by looking up omens of war through a book miki lended her and instead finding out that all the crazy shit happening to her in the last few days (kangaroo showing up on campus was actually a political refugee, tsuwabuki prepping her cheat sheet for an upcoming test on the ramificiations of nagasaki and hiroshima, students gathering about television sets that before she can see what terrible news theyre watching someone says "turn something nice on instead!" and she only sees shopping channels marketing items like gas masks, bomb shelters, and canned foods) has actually been subtle hints and omens that they're approaching world war three and nanami ends up going to touga asking if theyre gonna make it and if japan can withstand another genocidal war crime against humanity and touga somehow reads this as her telling him her dream job is to be a stripper and tells her "silly little sister. all women are inferior to men already bc of eve's fatal sin. dont degrade yourself further than you already have" and shes like "what do you mean degrade myself further than i already have" and hes like "dont worry about it youre perfect to me. like a 9.5/10. or an 8/10. maybe a 6. definitely not any lower than a 3" and after hearing that she goes to bed upset and confused because not only is her brother not taking nuclear war seriously he also once again made her feel infantilized and small and then after hearing a loud boom in the distance she thinks nuclear war is starting and starts freaking out and thinks "my brother must have been speaking in a code! he was trying to make me feel nostalgic about my childhood to comfort me before the upcoming attack! now that nuclear war is starting i should take shelter but we dont have a bomb shelter here but ohtori has a bunch of students! it probably does!" running to ohtori and trying to think of the oldest building on campus and goes to utena and anthy's door banging on it in the middle of the night and utena gets up in her jammies like "what?" and nanamis like "QUICK we all have to GET UNDERGROUND wheres your NEAREST BOMB SHELTER" and anthy comes in behind utena like miss nanami what are you talking about? :) and utena is like yeah seriously thats so weird. i guess you can come inside . we couldnt sleep anyway because -- and then nanami sees on the floor of their room a bunch of scattered papers with a big red button in a briefcase and nanami points at anthy and is like "IT WAS YOU THAT LAUNCHED THE NUKE??????" and anthy says "oh this? this button is enrichment for my pet parrot! ive named her nanami. nanami press the button" and nanami the parrot presses the button and theres a loud boom and nanami (not the parrot) is like but what was that?!?! i heard it from my house!!!! and utena is like "oh! you must be talking about the firework display! the button is rigged up to some fireworks we got for the upcoming spring festival and we were actually up late tonight trying to get the display to work! we messed up pretty bad and most of the fireworks went off at once though haha." nanami the parrot keeps pressing the button in the bg and anthy is like "aww i guess that was the last firework left!" and nanami is like b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-but what about the kangaroo? and the test on nagasaki and hiroshima?? and the shopping channels advertising gas masks and bomb shelters and canned food??? and utena says "oh the kangaroo was a political refugee from australia its boxing career went down the hill after it killed steve durwin in a freak accident. all schools are doing history tests on world war two this time in the semester!" and anthy says "yes and because theres no clear threat of nuclear winter anymore all the old holdovers from wwii are being sold at discounted prices :)"

as nanami leaves the house feeling much better but also stupider she gets traumatized one last time by another firework going off and utena yells out the window "sorry nanami! guess there was one more loaded in there!" the firework design is chuchus face and he has been mysteriously absent this whole time. we see him in the sex car with that cat thing from madoka driving

[princessdimondheart]

Hot Tamales | Ghost x Canis! OC + TF-141 + Los Vaqueros

Pairing: Ghost x f! OC

Warnings: language, the bois simp for food

Edited: No

A/N: A little post for Hispanic Heritage Month, a day after it ‘ended,’ but it’s always Hispanic Heritage Month for me lol. My mom and I made tamales a few weeks back and that kinda inspired this. I know it’s not what you’re expecting that I update but I wanted to get this posted even though it’s late. This could be considered part of the It’s The Dog series but as a separate one shot. Canis is Mexican but it can be read as any Latina Reader.

Masterlist 

Character banner ©️ Me

🫔.

For the last day or so, Johnny not Ghost could find Canis and both were beginning to get a bit worried. So, Johnny asked around the base they were on if anyone had seen her. No luck until one of Alejandro’s Corporals said that she had been in the mess’ kitchen. Quickly sending a text to Ghost, Johnny made his way to the mess hall. 

An incredible aroma came from the large room the closer down the hall he went. Ghost was already standing at the doors waiting for him. 

“Ah, that smells so good L.t.” He grinned at the taller man. 

“Very good.” Ghost replied, shockingly in approval. 

Johnny was just about to push the doors open when a loud bang sounded from down the hall. It was Alejandro and Rudy. 

“Te dije, Rudy! The smell is coming from here!” The Colonel shouted. “Mmm… tengo hambre.”

“You were right, Ale. But who’s making them?” The two men jogged to where Soap and Ghost were standing. 

“You know what’s goin’ on, Alejandro?” Johnny questioned. “It smells really good! What is it?”

“No idea, amigo! Those are tamales!” He shook Johnny’s shoulder. “Don’t tell me you’ve never tried tamales before?”

Johnny shook his head and when Alejandro looked at Ghost, he also denied ever having them. Both Mexicans shook their heads. 

“Oh, you’re missing out!” Rudy looked at them with pity. 

“It’s only one of the finest dishes Mexican cuisine has to offer.” Ale added. “You’re in for a treat!”

They finally head in and see that a decent sized crowd had formed around the kitchen doorway. Many of them were practically drooling at the delicious smell. They made their way through the crowd and inside they saw Canis. 

Rudy called out to her first, “Canis! You’re the one making tamales?”

She turned around at his voice. “Rudy, sí. I’ve been prepping since yesterday and now the tamales are steaming. I think they’ll be ready in about ten minutes. Think you boys can wait?”

Canis was wearing an apron that had the Los Vaqueros logo on the front. Earlier that day, she decided she would make one with the 141’s logo on it. It was stained with mole, pork, and masa. There was a very large pot behind her on the stove filled to the brim with tamales. The food station was relatively clean after the mess she had made the previous day and that morning. She’d taken the time to put everything away and clean up. Although, there were still some corn husks left on the table. 

“Of course we can wait, lass!” Johnny called out from behind Ghost. Whose body took up much of the doorway. 

Then the group had the others waiting around go to sit at the tables while they waited for the tamales to finish cooking. When the ten minutes were up, the mess staff helped Canis distribute the tamales to the voraciously hungry soldiers and staff. They thought that the tamales would be gone by then but out came Canis with a large warming platter filled with tamales. 

“I saved a bunch for you guys, and there’s more in the freezer to be steamed later on.” Canis smiled at them, placing the platter of tamales onto the table. She gestured to the food. “Go ahead.”

Alejandro and Rudy were quick to place a hot tamale on their plates. They were not as careful to spread apart the corn husks and dug into the steaming meal. 

“Ah-Ah!” The two sucked in air to their mouths to cool off their burning tongues. 

Canis shook her head at the two traviesos. “Con cuidado! You’ll burn your tongues.”

“It tastes better when they’re hot and fresh.” Alejandro panted, still cooling his mouth. Canis rolled her eyes at him. 

On the other hand, the Brit and the Scot were going at their food at a much slower pace. They seemed to be enjoying themselves. 

“This is good, Canis.” Ghost looked at her. 

“Thank you, Ghost.” She smiled and her cheeks burned. Alejandro cleared his throat. 

“If a woman makes you tamales, she’s probably in love with you.” Alejandro smirked at her. The other men whipped their heads to look at her with wide eyes. Ghost squinted at her, an unfamiliar emotion in his dark eyes. Canis’ brow rose in question. “Who on the team have you fallen for, amiga?” 

“No one, Alejandro. I just wanted to make some tamales for everyone.” She side-eyed him. “It’s my Abuelita’s recipe. I was feeling a bit homesick so I made these to help cheer me up.”

Ghost hummed while Rudy and Johnny nodded their heads. 

“They’re the best thing I’ve ever eaten, and I’ve eaten lots of things, lass.” Johnny complimented. 

Canis chuckled. “I’m glad you guys are enjoying it.” She fiddled with her fingers. “I was worried that I’d mess it up or something. I even messaged my Abuelita about a few things.”

“Nothing to worry about Canis! They’re the most delicious tamales I’ve ever had.” Alejandro went to go back to eating but jolted upright. “Don’t tell my mama I said that!”

Canis and Rudy burst out laughing. Johnny grinned at them and Ghost ignored them. He basically inhaled the whole tamale in three bites, and was glancing at the plate of tamales. 

Canis noticed. 

“Who wants seconds?”

~~~~~

Bonus:

“They remind me of my grandmother’s tamales.” Rudy teared up. “I miss her.”

“Ayy, don’t cry Rudy.” She pat his back. “Here, have another tamale.” 

Canis placed another wrapped tamale on his plate before turning back to the stove to finish cleaning up. She didn’t see the glint in his eyes nor the smirk on his lips, but Alejandro did. 

“Rudy, you cabrón! That’s your fourth one!”

Masterlist

🔖 Taglist:

@missroro @wobblywolf @animarix @islanderr @sae1kie @abbiesxox @frazie99 @undercover-smutlover

[rhoorl]

Since it's holiday week . Made me think about our delta boys. Who would do what. Think Will would be the master chef. Frankie would help out. Benny ? He tried to help bless his heart. he would get in the way. Santi would make a few desserts. something from his childhood. Then the traditional pies.

Ok, so I received a submission (my first one!) asking how the boys would celebrate Thanksgiving. I love thinking of headcanons for them, especially around holidays or special occasions. For this, I’m answering in the context of my Delta Landscaping world. 

In DL, it’s established that Frankie grew up with Benny and Will. Frankie also had to assume a caretaker role early on for his sister. I think a lot have a headcanon that Frankie enjoys cooking and I do too. Whenever the boys have a BBQ at the Millers’ house, Frankie is at the grill or prepping other dishes. Since he’s a bit more on the reserved side, this was a way for him to still be involved but be able to focus on something that wasn’t just socializing, if that makes sense. It harkens back to when he was younger and he would sit in the kitchen with his Tias or with one of the Miller mommas and watch them and help out. 

So, needless to say, Frankie enjoys cooking and preparing a meal; it’s a way he shows love. When it comes to Thanksgiving, he has to take the lead in making a turkey or ham. Benny convinced him to deep fry a turkey a few years ago and it ended in a bit of a disaster, so from now on it’s an oven-roasted turkey, which he takes great pride in seasoning and basting (I swear I do not mean that in a dirty way, get your mind out of the gutter). While the turkey is cooking, he prepares a bunch of the sides. He's got it all down to a system.

Will is the organized, practical one so his duties include setting the table. A few years back, when he was engaged and planning a wedding, his mom gave him and his then-fiance some of the plates, glasses, napkins, and other assorted items she used to decorate for their big Thanksgiving dinners. He thought about giving it back to her after his fiance left, but he likes the memories these items bring of growing up and enjoying Thanksgiving with his brother, cousins, and extended family. He’ll try and help in the kitchen if Frankie needs it but otherwise, he tries to steer clear and watch football.

Benny is all about the snacks and apps. When it comes to cooking, bless his heart, Benny tries he really does, but he’s just not super good at it. He’s a bit of a bull in a china shop and ends up making a mess which annoys Frankie to no end. They bicker in the kitchen as they try and jostle for some space to prepare what they need. Benny loves a good dip and he’s perfected a great buffalo chicken dip. I know, not a traditional Thanksgiving food perhaps but it’s a crowd pleaser. The guys end up snacking on whatever he brings or makes while they watch football and wait for the meal to be ready.

Santiago brings some great wine to the dinner. I think I may have mentioned somewhere before that my headcanon for him is that he’s really into wine. He has a wine subscription box that comes every month and enjoys going to wineries and wine tastings. It started off as a way to impress a date but he’s actually quite enjoyed it, especially as he’s traveled the world. He also has a big sweet tooth and is the one to always bring dessert. He has a few staples he sticks to, but isn’t afraid to venture out and bring something new.

So what are the boys' favorite Thanksgiving food? I thought you’d never ask:

Although Frankie takes great pride in his turkey, he actually likes mac and cheese the best. He also prefers Thanksgiving leftovers to the actual meal itself. Will’s favorite is turkey, or ham if Frankie decides to cook it that year (once Frankie realized how much Will liked it, he started making it every year). Benny loves stuffing (or dressing depending on where you’re from). But, in a move that surprises everyone - mainly his mom - he loves green bean casserole too. Santiago is all about the dessert (hence why he always is in charge of it). He loves pumpkin pie and pecan pie, but he won’t turn down a sweet potato or cherry pie either. 

If you made it this far, I hope you enjoyed my little Thanksgiving prep with the boys. If you are celebrating, I hope you have a good Thanksgiving, if you’re not, then I hope you have a great week!

[confusedraven1]

as much as i desperately wanted and would’ve loved to see an anne bonny and mary read kiss on screen, it makes a lot of sense in context why we didn’t.

OBVIOUSLY, anne and mary have been in a relationship for a long time. they have the same attitudes as those middle-aged/old people that think it’s fun or funny to “hate” their spouse, which is really hurtful and toxic to the ones involved, and makes those around them uncomfortable, but they brush it off as “oh you don’t get it, but you will.” we don’t see them kiss at all because the way they “love” each other is by finding new ways to hurt each other (“keeping things fresh”), and kissing is more intimate. their relationship isn’t intimate because they aren’t in that “intimate” headspace—they just view themselves as “stuck” with the other.

it’s not until ed and stede point out how fucked up their relationship is that they finally reveal the real reasons why they’re constantly at each other’s throats: mary hates that they’re cut off from people, living on a random, low traffic island, and attempting (and failing) to sell a bunch of old shit while anne resents that mary doesn’t want to go back to pirating and being adventurous cause she’s afraid she’s too old.

mary and ed both hold on to the same bitterness: that love dies, that there’s no excitement except waiting to see how you’re gonna cark it. they both wanted out of pirating—mary got the “retirement” package ed had wanted with stede in china, and it turns out she fucking hates sitting still (“i wasn’t made for sitting idle”). she has to do a lot of the manual labor (trapping, killing, prepping food) and hates anne’s cuckoo clock; not only is it annoying but is probably just another reminder of her life ticking by without moving.

anne and stede both have an eye for fine things and are collectors, but anne’s antiques are EVERYWHERE, piled up on top of each other, a huge safety hazard and useless since it’s just sitting around not being sold. anne got to keep her “fine things,” but it’s choking out her relationship with mary. anne craves adventure and anything (or anyone) new, so she immediately latches on to stede, someone she can relate to and is another opportunity to hurt her partner.

after their fight, anne disappears and slams the door behind her, much like stede did when he left. i think anne realizes they both want the same thing and they were just doing what they had been doing cause they each thought that’s what the other wanted, but they’ve never actually talked about it. so anne burns her collection, their house, all of the shit keeping them stuck there, and tells mary they’re free, they can do whatever they want.

both anne and stede torched their lives so they could be with the people they loved and wouldn’t have anything holding them down, then came back with a new perspective and more love than they had before. mary looked at anne in awe, like she couldn’t believe anne would really change for her, then acceptance when she realized they could finally move on. (we get that expression of awe from ed later after buttons transmogrified into a gull, then a look of acceptance as he flies away, because ed realized, “holy fucking shit, people do change, and maybe i can, too.”)

hugging is a form of comfort, and i think anne and mary needed the comfort a hug provides much more than the intimacy a kiss gives. they needed the space to ask for forgiveness, and then give and receive it. hugging gave them that space and that forgiveness.

[agaypanic]

An Undead Secret (Ravi Chakrabarti X Zombie!Moore!Reader)

Masterlist

Request Something!

Summary: To save your life, your sister Liv scratched you and turned you into a zombie. Feeling hungry, you go to the morgue to visit your sister and get her to share some of her food. One problem: only Liv knows about your condition and your boyfriend Ravi just came back from a coffee run.

A/N: i know i have a bunch of requests but i just finished all of iZombie in less than a week and Rahul Kohli/Ravi Chakrabarti is SO dreamy, so i felt the need to write something about him lol

***

You wished you were one of those people who meal-prepped for their week. Then this wouldn’t have happened. It was bad enough that Liv had to split her brain resources with you. But when you were enjoying your day off, you went to the fridge for some lunch just to find that you were out of the brain that Liv had brought home for the week.

“Crap.” You muttered, feeling around on the island for your phone while you stared at the fridge. Part of you hoped there was a bit of teen girl brain in some container at the back, but there was none. So you called your sister.

“Hello?” Liv answered.

“Hey, Liv. We’re out of that teenage girl’s brain, and I’m starving. Can I swing by the morgue real quick?”

“Oh! Yeah, come on down. Sorry, I forgot to tell you about that. I’m making spaghetti with Italian gangster meatballs right now.”

“That sounds perfect. See you soon.” You and your sister said quick goodbyes, and you got dressed to leave the apartment. 

Luckily, you and Liv lived near the Seattle Police Department, so your drive was quick. This was especially good because you didn’t know how long you’d be able to go without eating another brain. Part of you wished you had the balls to be a murderer or something; at least then, you could get brains whenever you wanted instead of waiting for the latest murder victim to land in the morgue.

“Liv, I’m here!” You announced, walking into the morgue. Your sister stood in the kitchen, looking up at you from her cooking to smile at you. 

“Hey, Y/n. Just about to make the meatballs.” That made you race to her side, eyeing the brain that she was cutting up.

“Mind if I have some right now? I can’t take the waiting anymore.” Liv nodded, cutting off a good chunk for you to eat. You picked off a piece to eat while Liv made the rest of her lunch. When everything was done, her phone buzzed on the counter.

“Damn, it’s Clive. Guess I have to have my food to go.” Liv grabbed a tupperware container to put her lunch in and was about to exit the morgue when she turned back to you, as if suddenly remembering you were there. “Feel free to stay, if you want. I’ll let you know if I have to leave the station.”

“Have fun solving murders.” You waved your sister off, and she left. 

You had been to the morgue before, but never alone. You’d always have Liv or Ravi with you, mainly because they worked down here and you didn’t. Despite knowing there were dead bodies on the other side of the room, the place was otherwise pretty peaceful.

Brains, like most foods since you turned, were bland and pretty much unappealing. But you and Liv found that the saving grace for your taste buds was spicy things like hot sauce and ghost peppers. After a bit of digging, you saw what was probably Liv’s hot sauce in the fridge and practically doused your chunk of brain with it. You moaned with delight at the fact that you could actually taste something now.

“Y/n! What a pleasant surprise. What are you doing here?” Someone startled you from behind. You whipped around to see Ravi walking down the steps into the morgue, carrying two cups of coffee. “Have you seen Liv? I have her coff- Oh my god, what are you eating?” Clearly, he hadn’t registered what was in your hands at first.

You knew that Ravi knew about Liv being a zombie; it was actually something the two of you bonded over when she started working in the morgue because how crazy was it that you knew someone who was actually undead? But a few months ago, your apartment was robbed, and you got hurt pretty bad. Instead of calling the police, you called your sister, who you begged to turn you. With little convincing, seeing the condition you were in, Liv scratched you.

You wanted to hide your new condition more than Liv, so you became a frequent buyer of hair dye and spray tan or foundation. Liv agreed to keep the secret between you, so no one else knew. Not even Ravi. Sure, maybe you should’ve told your boyfriend that you were now a zombie, especially since if you ever had sex, you could probably turn him. But thinking about how he could react scared you. It was one thing to be friends with someone undead; it was another thing to date them.

“Oh! Hey, Ravi.” You hid the half-eaten piece of the brain behind your bag, smiling innocently yet nervously. “Um, you just missed Liv. She went upstairs to meet with Clive.”

“Y/n…” He said in that tone that a parent would use on a child that’s just done something wrong. He set down the coffees and walks into the kitchen, looking curiously at you. “What’s behind your back?”

“Nothing.” You responded, voice higher than it just was. Ravi reached his hands out to you.

“Sweetie, it’s okay. I just wanna see.” This is part of why you felt so guilty about not telling Ravi. He was so kind and understanding, just wanting to help. Of course, it helped that this wouldn’t be his first zombie encounter.

Realizing there was no way out of this, you sighed and brought the brain into his line of sight. His eyes widened as he realized what you were eating.

“Ravi, babe, I can explain-”

“You’re a zombie?”

“I guess I don’t have to explain; that’s spot on.” You laughed, trying to ease the tension, but Ravi wasn’t having it. He grabbed your arm to sit you down in one of the chairs in the kitchen, sitting in the one next to you.

“How long?” Seeing you nervously play with your fingers, Ravi grabbed your hands and threaded your fingers with his.

“A few months. Liv turned me.”

“Why did she turn you?”

“I asked her to.” You thought he’d ask something else, but instead, he gave you a look that urged you to tell the full story. You sighed. “My apartment got broken into, and the guy didn’t really appreciate that I was there. I called Liv and asked her to scratch me. That’s why I moved in with her and Peyton.”

“Oh god, Y/n.” Ravi let go of your hands to hug you, dragging you and the chair you were sitting on closer to him. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there.”

“It’s okay, Ravi.” You responded, face buried in his shoulder. “You didn’t know.” That seemed to bring up a new point with him. He gently pushed you off of him just enough so he could make eye contact with you.

“Wait, why didn’t you tell me?”

“I just wanted to be normal.” You shrugged. “I didn’t want anyone to know I changed. That’s why I dye my hair and use makeup and tanning spray and stuff. God, Mom would’ve had a field day if she saw Liv and me with white hair looking like we haven’t seen the sun in years.” You laughed lightly, thinking about how your mother would react. She already thought Liv had thrown her life away; you suspected she would feel the same about you. “And I didn’t want to scare you off or something.”

“In case you haven’t noticed, zombies aren’t exactly a new thing to me.”

“Yeah, I know. But it’s one thing to be friends or colleagues with a zombie. It’s an entirely different thing to date one. Just look at Liv and Major.” Ravi nodded, seeing your point. He sighed, grabbing your hands again.

“You still could’ve told me, love.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” Immediately, Ravi clicked his tongue and shook his head.

“No, don’t be sorry. I get it. It can be scary.” He squeezed your hands. “But now I know. And if anything, now I have even more reason to try to find a cure.” Ravi kissed your knuckles. “It’ll be okay.”

“Wait a minute. You’re okay with me being a zombie?” He looked confused, so you elaborated. “Because if you wanna break up because of it, that’s fine. I’d honestly get it if-”

“Who said anything about breaking up?” Ravi could’ve laughed at the thought itself. “Y/n, honey, you being undead isn’t a dealbreaker for me. I care about you too much to let a little thing like that get in the way.”

“Little?” The way Ravi spoke warmed your dead heart, but being half dead wasn’t exactly a little thing. “Ravi, I need to eat brains in order to survive.”

“I work in a morgue; you can get them the same way your sister does.”

“I don’t even care about food if it’s not covered in hot sauce or ghost peppers.”

“I’m fine with making two different meals for dinner.”

“Unless we find a cure or you don’t care about turning into a zombie, we can’t have sex. Ever.” That seemed to get through to Ravi, taking a sharp breath. You wondered if that would actually be a dealbreaker for him, and if you were about to walk out of this morgue broken hearted.

“We can cross that bridge when we get to it.” He answered, letting go of your hands to gently hold your face. “But for now, I’m completely fine with dating a zombie. Especially because it’s you. Even if it means we have to get a bit creative when we-”

“Okay, okay. I get it.” You laughed, stopping him from finishing his sentence. “So, we’re good?”

“Always have been, honey.” You grinned, leaning forward to kiss him.

[fandom-imagination-ss]

Imagine: Asking your husband Derek to go to the local Fair in town.

It was Hot, Far too Hot to be just June, the sweat rolling off your forehead going into your brow, Was one of MANY! reasons why you Hate Summer. Sure Winter is cold but when you're cold. you can Add an extra layer you can snuggle up with your Hot (Physically And in appearance) Husband. Derek. you met him right after his Baby mama had their Son Eli and she Bailed. Leaving the Quiet little town for the Big City and Derek making a vow once the "true Alpha" left for the city abandoning Beacon Hill. he came back and vowed to never leave. you just moved into town when you bumped into him in the food market. seeing him struggle with a New baby. as he was debating on which baby food he should have. you are a baby expert. Since your old roommate had a baby and you witnessed it ALL! you couldn't help yourself but Help the Single Hot dad with the adorable baby. Years later Eli was now a teenager. and you were Sweating outside pulling weeds in the garden.

you tried pawning off this task to Eli, But he heard "yard work "this morning at breakfast and He bolted. Derek always kindly offered to do it after work since he knew you hated Yard work. you use to love it, it use to be a nice chore, you put music on. make a big pitcher of Lemonade. Four years agoana Ancient God of Harvest came to beacon hill and you were captured and Almost Eaten alive by a Roots of a tree.. you were caught In the garden. So you don't practicallyy Enjoy Doing the Yard work anymore. Not alone at least.

Sitting in the yard on your butt lunged over a flowerbed. you remember When Derek and you moved into the house, the first thing he did after you both painted the house. was put the flowerbed up. His mom use to love her garden back at the Old Hale home. and he said the house wasn't a home without a bunch of prettty flowers. and they calmed him. you loved how the flowers looked but you didn't like How Hot it was.

Derek was in the shop working on a stubborn truck calibrater. Something about a leak or a missing piece. Honestly, when Derek talks to mechanics, you don't listen to you. You watch him and openly drool over him. Even after years of dating and marriage, you are still sometimes stunned at his beauty. Derek openly teases you about it.

The sun was getting hotter, and everyone was at the fair. Eli was there going with a girl he liked.

After pulling all the weeds, cutting the yard, and clearing the clippings. You went inside and took. A cold shower to cool down.

Hearing the front door open and hearing Derek call out for you. You called down saying you be back in a few minutes. Meeting him in the kitchen you sat on the counter freshly cleaned and cooled down as you watched your husband prep dinner.

"Hey Hot stuff." you called out as he chuckled as he looked up atyou, "Hey beautiful- what you want?"

you chuckled gasping touching your heart, "me? what makes you think i want anything." he smiled he's famous lop sided smile before stepping over putting both hands on either side of your legs as he gave you a quick peak on the lips, "because baby I know you- you only call me hot stuff when you want something."

you smiled as you wrapped your arms around his neck pulling him into second longer kiss before pulling back, 'well- it just so happens- I wanted to ask you out on a Date. tonight after dinner."

he smiled to that as you spoke, "the fair is in town- and I dont know if you remember but that's the Same fair we met each other- where you threatened to kill me if i didn't turn into a wolf.."

Derek sighed heavily as he spoke, "Seriously? I ended up saving your life that night."

"wait- you tried killing Y/N?"

you both turned seeing Eli as Derek moved away as you nodded your head. slightly bummed that Derek moved away but you turned to Eli as you spoke, "yup- I was one of the first people your dad wanted to turn to make his pack."

"but you aren't a werewolf."

you nodded your head, 'yea- ugh- your dad had a change of heart."

"I just realized how much of a pain and trouble she would cause me and i didn't want to be stuck with her forever."

he went back to fixing up the porkchops as yu chuckled, "Jokes on you Sucker! you married me. Stuck with me forever and beyond now." Derek chuckled as Eli walked off. after that as you spoke, "So? you going to take your favorite girl to the Fair? or am I going without you?"

Derek smiled as he turned looking at you. feeling his heart full. he never thought he would have this.. this perfect slice of heaven. he nodded his head, "i'll take you. but only if you Win me a bear."

you smiled saying deal. as you got off the counter kissing his cheek and helping him with dinner.

[andydrysdalerogers]

Your Submissively ~ Realization

Steve Rogers X OFC Isabella Davis

Summary: Five Years after the events of Civil War, Steve Rogers has moved on from avenging and has started his own business, Grant Inc. He has a secret that would turn his world upside down. And he's good at keep that secret. Until he meets the woman with violet eyes that could bring him to his knees. Now his mission is to make her, his. But she is the key that could bring the world into balance... or chaos.

And she has no idea.

Series Warnings: slow burn at the beginning, smut, angst, sexual themes of BDSM, dom/sub dynamics, kidnapping, loss of virginity, (and a bunch of others that will come up)

A/N: the taglist is open!

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site, even if you give me credit. DO NOT REPOST MY FICS. Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated

Previous: Masquerade

Series Masterlist ~ Main Masterlist

The morning was peaceful.  Belle woke up, deliciously sore from the night before but still no Steve in bed with her.  Could she do that?  Get fucked and then left alone?  For now, she could for how good she was feeling. 

She got up and showered, taking care to wash her face since she didn’t remove the makeup the night before.  Once she was dressed, she headed downstairs to find it empty.  She decided to prepare breakfast, making omelets for Steve and Bucky.  As she was finishing the prep, the men walked in, sweaty from an obvious bout of exercise.

“Good morning sweetheart,” Steve called. 

“Good morning.” She continued with her work.  “Breakfast will be ready in 15.” 

“Excellent.”  Bucky was elated. “Punk, I’ll trade dishes every weekend if Belle keeps cooking.” 

Steve let out a laugh, “deal Jerk.  We’ll be right back sweetheart.”  They walked off to their rooms to clean up. 

Belle finished cooking, plating the food and setting the table.  As she was placing the plates on the table, Steve showed and wrapped an arm around her.  “How did you sleep?”

“Fine.  A little lonely.” 

“Lonely?” 

“I like sleeping next to you.  I understand we aren’t supposed to but I haven’t signed the contract so I had hoped you would.” 

“You need to get used to the fact that sometimes I won’t.”  She pouted at his words. “Don’t pout or I will take you over my knee,” he said sternly.  She pulled her bottom lip back in and moved to sit at the table.  Bucky walked back in and they ate in relative silence. 

Bucky broke it first.  “So how was the benefit?”  Belle tried to hide her smile.  “Ok, what’s with that smile?”

“Isabella knows how to play poker,” Steve said with a sip of coffee.  “She had a good night.” 

“Really?  I wanna see those skills sometime.” 

“Sure,” she said mischievously. 

Steve rolled his eyes.  “She’ll take the shirt right off your back, Buck.” 

Bucky took a bite with a smirk until he realized, “she took you down, didn’t she?”

Belle couldn’t help but laugh.  Her peals of laughter echoed off the walls as Steve tried to be mad but could only smile. Bucky started to laugh as well.  As he slowed, he said, “oh she is so invited to the next poker night with Bird Brain and Tin Man.” 

“Not a chance,” Steve said with a smile.  “I might lose my empire to her.” 

They finished up breakfast and Steve took her around the penthouse, showing all the rooms including the staff quarters.  Steve announced he needed to check in with the office and Belle unconsciously pouted at the thought of being alone.  She headed up to her bedroom to organize it the way she liked it.  She was re-folding when a shadow was cast over her.  She looked up to see Steve leaning on the doorway, his arms crossed in front of her. 

“Didn’t I say I would take you over my knee if you pouted?”

Belle stood up.  “I didn’t.”  

“Yes, you did Isabella.  I saw you when I said I had to check something at the office.  Now that’s two offenses.” He strode into the room and pulled her towards him.  She stood in front of him, licking her lips, her throat drying up.  ���Over my lap, princess.” 

Belle laid over his lap and he placed an arm on her back, pining her to him.  With the other, he slowly raised her dress and pulled down her panties.  He rubbed her ass.  “Do you know why you are being punished?”

“Because I pouted?”

“And?”

“Because I lied.”  Belle tried not to squirm, the idea of this punishment building heat into her belly. 

“That’s right princess.  So have you been bad?”

“Yes,” she replied, knowing lying would make it worse. 

“Address me as sir when I call you ‘princess.’  Got that, princess?”

“Yes – yes sir.” 

“Good girl.  I’ll give you six.  Three for each transgression.  Count out loud princess.” 

“Yes sir.” 

Steve was still stroking her skin when he pulled away and landed his hand on her right cheek with a loud smack.  Belle gasped but called out “One.”  He rejoiced at her submissive nature.  He continued. The second landing near her thighs.  She squealed but said “Two” in a shaky breath. 

“You are doing so well princess.  Are you going to be my good girl from now on?”

“Yes, sir.” 

Steve continued, landing all six but feeling the wetness of arousal coming from Belle.  He picked her up and laid her on her belly on the bed.  He grabbed the condom from his pocket, pulled his pants down low enough to release his cock.  He rolled on the condom, lifted Belle’s ass in the air so he could sink into her.  Belle moaned at the new position, feeling him fuller and bigger than before.  “You take me so well Princess.  Do you like it?”

“Yes, sir, please.” 

“What do you want Princess?”

“You, please sir.” 

“Hang on princess.”  Steve started slowly, thrusting in and out of her before picking up the pace and pounding his length into her.  He had her screaming in pleasure but he felt himself coming close.  He needed her to finish, to find her euphoria.  He kissed along her back before reaching under and rubbing against her clit.  She was a moaning mess but he could feel her pleasure, squeezing him tighter than before.  “Cum Isabella.  Cum now!”

She released with a scream, clenching his cock, sucking him in, holding him in places.  Steve thrusted three, four more times before he came.  He pumped her through their orgasms before removing himself and letting her fall onto the bed. He removed the condom and went to clean her up, aftercare being so important to him.  He had some lotion, which he rubbed into her ass and thighs. Steve got on the bed and cradled Isabella while she rested from the intensity.  “How are you feeling?”

“Like I should be bad more often.” 

Steve chuckled.  “This is just the start sweetheart. What are your plans for this week?”

“I have finals starting on Tuesday.” 

“Do you need to study?”

“No, just review.  I’m pretty prepared.” 

“Good girl.  You should rest while I finish up some things and then I can take you home.” Steve kissed her head and got up to put his clothes back on.  “I’ll be back in about an hour.  Rest sweetheart.” 

Belle stayed in bed for awhile, hoping her legs would come back from being jello.  Finally, she got up and rinsed in the shower.  She packed the dirty clothes since she wasn’t sure who would clean them.  She made the bed, finding clean sheets in her closet.  She looked around the room and thought of ways to make it her own.   Her phone buzzed just then. 

SL: Belle, can we talk?

Belle rolled her eyes.  It had been over a week since she heard from him and she wasn’t sure how to handle it. 

B: Why? SL: I need to apologize. I miss you B: Miss you too.  But that’s not an apology.  SL: I’m sorry for accusing you of being a gold digger B: Apology accepted but I’m busy right now SL: With Rogers? B: Yes SL: Ok.  I’ll let you go

Belle threw her phone on the bed and sat on the window seat.  She just wanted a drama free day.  Steve came back and observed her in her state of thought.  “Belle?”

“Hey,” she wiped her eyes before turning towards him.   “Ready to go?”

“Why are you crying?”

“I’m not…” she started before she sighed.   “I am because Scott just messaged me.  And I feel like I can’t go back to the way things were.  He broke that in us.” 

“I’m sorry sweetheart.” Steve rubbed his hands on her arms.  “Will you ever tell me what he said to you?”

“Probably not.” She was being honest.  She didn’t want to be seen as a gold digger. 

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want you to think ill of me or my friends.”

“Unless someone is threatening to harm you, I would never think that, Isabella.” 

Belle took a chance.  “Even if someone insinuated that you were a gold digger.”  She looked at her hands, not wanting to see the reaction. 

It took everything in Steve not to roar with rage.  How dare people assume she was using him.  He took a breath before addressing her.  “Sweet pea, if people want to think that, let them.  You and I know the truth.  If they don’t believe you, they aren’t worth your time.” 

Belle looked up to see the honesty in Steve’s eyes.  “Thank you, Steve.” 

“It’s not a problem Isabella.  Come.  Let me get you home so you can review.  It’s a big week for you.” 

Steve took the tote she was taking back to her apartment and led her down to the garage.  Bucky was waiting and open the door for Belle. The ride was quiet as if the norm was settling back around.  It took no time for Belle to see the front of her building.  They climbed out and Steve took the bag and her hand and walked her up. 

“It was a nice weekend,” she said as she looked for her keys. 

“It was.  Next weekend will be better.” Steve smiled at the thought of taking her to his playroom. 

“Mmhmm.”  She opened the door and looked up at him. 

“Have a great week, Isabella.  You’ll be great.  I know it.”  He kissed her forehead.  “Call me if you need me.”  He turned on his heel and walked away, leaving Belle yearning. 

She took her bag and went to her room, Lila still not back from visiting her folks.  She sat against the headboard of her bed and drew up her knees.  She still wasn’t sure if she liked this.  She didn’t like this feeling of wanting.  She wanted Steve.  She wanted his comfort, but he wasn’t there.  A tear slid down, and she angrily wiped it away. 

She was determined to get over it.  She grabbed her notes and started to review.  One more week.  Five days to get through before she could go back into his arms.  Her new safe place. 

It was late when she turned in.  She changed and climbed into bed.  Her eyes were shut almost immediately. 

Belle watched as her father was falling in front of her eyes. Belle! He screamed as he fell. 

Daddy! No!

She felt arms around her and she cried, Steve. 

Not Steve, sweetheart.  Its Brock.  And you let this happen Belle.  You let your father fall. Brock pulled her away from her father. 

No, she cried.  No I didn’t.  Please no. 

Belle shot up from bed, sweat beading on her face.  She looked at the photo of her father on her nightstand.  “I miss you, daddy.”  She put the photo down but she didn’t sleep.  She watched dawn break and wished she had her father for the week coming. 

NEXT

Taglist:

@patzammit

@texmexdarling

@slutforchrisjamalevans

@jennmurawski13-writes

@firephotogrl74

@tinkerbelle67

@before-we-get-started

@bunnyforhim

@alexakeyloveloki

@amiquette

[dragoneyes618]

Nothing is as Simple as Black and White

Inspired by the “What if Bruno Madrigal is Carlos de Vil’s father” idea by me and @silverloreley plus this fanfiction by @silverloreleysfanfics.

Carlos hovered nervously at the outskirts of the village.

It looked like a nice little village. Friendly. Peaceful. People bustling around on their everyday business, children playing.

Completely foreign, for an Isle boy.

He scratched Dude between the ears. It had been a hassle, bringing him all the way here - two plane flights, a short boat ride, and a lot of walking, not necessarily in that order - but in Carlos’ opinion it was worth it.

“It’s going to be fine,” he told Dude, rubbing his fur. Dude growled softly in contentment.

“Right,” Carlos continued, emboldened. “We’ll just go in and ask directions to the Madrigal family….there’s a bunch of them, it shouldn’t be too hard to find one…and then we’ll just - well, I’ll just say who I am and ask them to stay and give them the letters he…Oh, forget it,” he said abruptly. His arm dropped to his side. “Who am I kidding?”

Dude barked cheerfully, as though to say, “Me!”

“They don’t even know me,” Carlos muttered. “They probably don’t even know I exist. If they did they would have showed up at Auradon Prep like Snow White did for Evie. They’ll just kick me out and I’ll have to find somewhere else to live for the summer.”

It was hot. He was thirsty. There were birds singing in the trees - even after months in Auradon, he still found that odd - and beautiful, vibrant flowers grew everywhere.

This wouldn’t have been nearly so bad if one of his friends or cousins were with him. But his cousins, of course, were still on the Isle. Carlos had promised to try to get them off, just as Jay had to Jade and Mal had to Hadie and Evie had to Dizzy. But so far, nothing was doing. Being friends with the, admittedly extremely busy, king of Auradon didn’t have as many advantages as Carlos had thought it would. And just being in Auradon didn’t mean they had the power to change things. The newly-arrived and technically on paper not actually in Auradon Freddie Facilier was already getting very impatient.

And his friends weren’t there, because for the summer they weren’t allowed to just live in the dorms. (“We live there the rest of the time!” Mal had argued, but Fairy Godmother had been adamant. “It’s not like the buildings are unfit for human habitation! There’s enough food and running water and plumbing and everything! Why are you looking at me like that? We won’t be lonely, we’ll have each other! We can even catch up on all our schoolwork since we’ll literally be living in the school! What do you mean we need adult supervision and stable family structures?”)

So for the summer, they were all staying with whatever family they had in Auradon. Which wasn’t much.

Evie was staying with Snow White, who was technically her stepsister. From what Carlos had seen so far, the time Snow had come to school to meet Evie and from whatever Evie mentioned about the occasional texts they’d exchanged since then, they seemed to be getting along all right. But then, in a way the Evil Queen was Snow’s mother as well.

Jafar had no known family, so Jay was staying with Coach Jenkins.

Maleficent also had no known family - at least, no known family that could be contacted and was willing to. Unless Mal wanted to wander into the wilderness in Auroria and wait for any fae kin to find her, she was alone, so Ben had convinced his parents to let her stay with them for the summer.

Which left Carlos. The only one of them who had biological family anywhere in Auradon.

Ben had been surprised. “I thought all the de Vils were on the Isle,” he’d said.

“We are,” Carlos had said. “I don’t mean my mother’s family.”

Now, Carlos took a deep breath. “Come on, boy,” he murmured to Dude, slinging his backpack, which contained everything he owned, onto his shoulder. “We might as well get this over with.”

.

Mirabel spun as she danced in the street, laughing. “Come on, dance with me,” she called, and three small figures (usually there would be four, but Tía Pepa had informed Camilo that it was his turn to watch Antonio for the day) ran after her, spinning and dancing to the best of their ability. Which wasn’t much, considering none of them were older than six, but their enthusiasm more than made up for it.

Mirabel liked spending time with the little kids of Encanto. Children were so sweet and adorable and enthusiastic. She played with them and made up games with them and told them stories, and they told her all about the events going on in their lives, competing for her attention, and at least this way she was doing something useful, right?

“Faster!” Mirabel shouted, reaching out her arms; Juancho and Cecilia and Alejandra grabbed her hands - well, Cecilia and Juancho did, Alejandra held both of their hands - and they all spun in a circle until they fell down dizzy, giggling.

“That was fun!” Juancho announced. “Let’s do it again!”

Mirabel stretched in the warmth of the sun and began to sit up.

Her head hit the dirt as she fell over backwards, bowled over by a heavy weight that had materialized on her stomach. She yelped, her vision full of brown fur. Something warm and wet lapped at her face.

The children were laughing and shrieking.

“Dog! Dog!”

“Mirabel! Are you okay?”

“I wanna pet the dog!”

Someone shouted in English, accompanied by running footsteps.

The dog sprawled atop Mirabel shifted, ears perking up. Mirabel tried to sit up again, pushing the dog into her lap and wiping the dog spittle off her face with her sleeve.

A boy of about Mirabel’s age was running forward, his face panicked, calling out in English; Mirabel caught the words no and stop. The dog leapt off Mirabel and bounded over to the boy, tail wagging, as though expecting to be rewarded with treats. The boy gave it an angry look, gesturing to Mirabel, then looked at her nervously as she stood up and brushed her dress off.”

“I’m sorry,” he said in stilted, accented, but understandable Spanish. “He doesn’t usually do this. I am very sorry. Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” she assured him, but he still looked afraid, like he thought she was going to be furious at him. “No, really, I’m fine! No harm done.”

“Is that your dog?” Cecilia asked.

“Of course it is!” Juancho interrupted before the boy could answer.

The boy looked startled. “Oh - yes, this is my dog. Sorry. Um-”

“Can we pet him?” Alejandra wanted to know.

“Oh - sure - he liked being petted - just be gentle-”

He’d barely gotten a few words out before the dog was laying down with a supremely contented look on its face while the three children gave him belly rubs.

“You’d think they’d never seen a dog before,” Mirabel commented fondly.

“No?” the boy asked.

“I mean, they have, they just get really excited over, well, everything,” Mirabel explained. “Anyway, so…you’re new here?” Clearly, he was; the Encanto didn’t get many visitors, so strangers were instantly recognizable.

“Um, yeah, I’m….My name is Carlos.”

Carlos. That was a Spanish name, but Carlos himself didn’t appear to be. He didn’t look it, and while his Spanish, while fairly good for a foreigner, wasn’t fluent, and his accent wasn’t Colombian either. Perhaps his parents had died when he was young, and he’d been raised elsewhere?

Enough speculation. He was a visitor to the Encanto, and she was the only Madrigal present and so must give him a good impression of the Madrigals and the Encanto. Although that was kind of hard to do with mud all over your skirt.

“I’m Mirabel,” she said. “Nice to meet you.”

Carlos blinked. “I - oh - thanks,” he said. “Um, I’m actually looking for something…someone, I mean, a few people….Would you happen to know where the Madrigal family is?”

Oh. Well. That made sense. To anyone outside the Encanto, the Madrigals were the only notable members inside it, what with the magic most of them possessed. Maybe he needed help, help that only her family’s magic could give him.

“Right here!” Juancho piped up from where he was scratching Carlos’ dog behind the ears.

“What?” Carlos said.

“Mirabel’s a Madrigal,” Alejandra explained.

“Oh!” Carlos, if anything, looked even more nervous. Which was ridiculous, really; no one would ever be wary of her. Not when there was Luisa-Who-Can-Lift-Anything or Dolores-Who-Knows-All-Your-Secrets or Tía Pepa-Armed-With-Lightning (Okay, so Camilo’s imitations were a little funny, she had to admit) to be faced.

Or, once, Tío Bruno. But no one talked about him.

“So….do you want to meet my family?” Mirabel prompted. He’d have to, if he needed their help, but he looked like that was the last thing he wanted to do.

“Um…yes?” Carlos almost squeaked. “Please? If it isn’t too much trouble?”

“Of course it’s not! Come on, Casita - my house - is this way.”

Mirabel led the way. Carlos, who kept glancing at her out of the corner of his eye, followed just behind her, and his dog right behind him, accompanied by the three kids who had apparently decided that said dog was currently their most favorite thing in the world. (“Look! He licked my hand! He likes me! Look, he lets me pet him! That’s nothing, he lets all of us pet him! Ooh, look, he’s smiling at me! Dogs don’t smile! Yes they do! Isn’t he smiling, Juancho?”)

“So, um…Mirabel.” Carlos swallowed. “Could you…tell me about your family?”

“Sing him the song!” Alejandra called from behind them.

They both turned. “The song?” Carlos asked.

Mirabel shrugged. “A while ago I made up a little song about my family, to sing for the kids around town. I guess they liked it.”

“We LOVED it!” Juancho announced, jumping up and down; Mirabel wondered if he’d been at the coffee again. “Sing it again! Please!”

“You have to sing it, for him,” Cecilia pointed out. “Because he doesn’t know your family.”

Mirabel gave a half-laugh. “Oh, all right, but only if we keep walking.” Somewhat self-consciously, she began her song.

She sang of how her family had been blessed, how they used their gifts to keep the Encanto safe and flourishing. She sang of her Abuela who led the family and the village, who had received the miracle so many years ago, through her own love and grief; of Tía Pepa, who could control the very weather with her emotions, calling up a storm in a rage or a rainbow in bliss; of Tío Bruno, the prophet long gone (Carlos flinched); of her mother, the kindest, gentlest soul in the Encanto, with the gift of healing to match; of her father and Tío Felix, who both proclaimed that they’d become the happiest men alive the moment they’d married their respective wives.

Moving on to her generation, she began with Dolores, who could hear a pin drop from the other side of the village. Then on to Camilo, who could change shape at will and perfectly imitate anybody he saw. Antonio, soon to receive his gift. Señorita Perfecta Isabela, beautiful and graceful, who could grow any kind of flower, anywhere. Luisa, gifted with superstrength.

“Wow,” Carlos said when Mirabel had finished. “That’s….a lot.”

“It is,” Mirabel agreed wholeheartedly.

“So what’s your gift?”

Mirabel’s heart sank down to her toes. She’d hoped he wouldn’t ask that.

“Mirabel didn’t get one,” Cecilia informed him.

“No?”

“Nope!” Juancho chimed in. “She’s the only Madrigal not to get one! No one knows why.”

“Oh,” he said. “Uh. Sorry.”

“It’s all right,” she assured him. It made sense that he would ask. The questions - at least the first questions, the ones of “What’s your gift?” and “You didn’t get a gift?” didn’t bother her; they were only to be expected. What did bother her were the ones like “So why do you think you didn't get a gift?”

“Anyway!” she said with some relief. “Here we are!”

Mirabel led him into the courtyard. Juancho, Cecilia, and Alejandra offered to stay at the gate and watch his dog. Carlos said, in English, “Stay, Dude!” to his dog, who plopped himself right down for some more belly rubs.

“Mirabel!” her mother called, coming through the door. “Where have you b- Oh! Who’s this?” She gave Carlos a surprised, almost spooked look.

“This is Carlos,” Mirabel said. “He’s from…” She realized that Carlos hadn’t actually told her where he was from. “Anyway, he wanted to talk to all of you, and I said I would bring him to meet you? He needs our help.” Carlos didn’t contradict her.

Mama blinked several times. “Hello, Carlos. It’s nice to meet you. I’m sorry - it’s just that you reminded me of someone for a moment. Come right in; Mirabel, bring him to the living room, Abuela will see him there.”

Mirabel led him through the hallway, past Tío Felix, whose eyes widened; past Dolores, who poked her head out of a doorway, squeaked, and pulled herself back in; past her father, who dropped the stack of plates he was holding and shooed them both away when they tried to help him pick them up; past Luisa, who was juggling dumbbells; and past the kitchen, where her father had deposited his miraculously unbroken plates and was whispering loudly to her mother “Doesn’t he look a bit like-” before finally reaching the living room.

Sometimes she wished she’d been born into a normal family.

“You can sit if you want,” she offered. She didn’t usually entertain guests and had no clue of what to do.

Carlos jumped a little, said “Thanks,” and sat down gingerly on the very edge of the sofa.

Abuela walked in, took one look at Carlos, and demanded “Who are you?”

Carlos quailed, but drew himself up and answered “Carlos de Vil.”

Devil? Wasn’t that the English for Diablo? What kind of name was that?

“A-are y-you Doña Alma Madrigal?” Carlos stuttered. Mirabel thought he was trembling. He looked terrified.

“I am,” Abuela answered, but before she could say anything else Carlos reached into his pocket and withdrew several grubby, folded pieces of paper; sealed envelopes. He unfolded one, then another, and handed that one to Abuela.

“This is for you,” was all he said.

The envelope was labeled, simply, Mamá.

.

"Oh, Dios mío!” Mirabel gasped. “You’re C!”

“You’re C?” Camilo asked. “You must be!”

“He’s C!” Dolores agreed. “Wow, I never thought we’d actually meet him!”

Carlos looked overwhelmed, like he quite wished no one would be paying any attention to him. Unfortunately, the exact opposite was the case. “C?”

The entire family was crowded into the kitchen. Mama and Tía Pepa were hugging each other, weeping about their poor Brunito, the letters Carlos had delivered to them from him clutched in their hands. Abuela was sitting in her seat, reading her own letter over and over, as though trying to discern some hidden meaning in the words.

Carlos himself was sitting at the table with the heaping plateful of food Julieta had demanded he eat before interrogating him about his father and ripping open her own letter to read. So far, he’d eaten very little of it.

Papa and Tío Felix were huddled together, whispering.

Mirabel and her sisters and cousins were all crowded around poor Carlos.

“You got a door,” Isabela explained. “To your room in Casita, and you would have received your gift when you opened it. It had your initial on it, so we knew you existed, and that your name started with C. But that was all we knew about you. And you weren’t there to open it, so your door disappeared.” She hesitated. “You do know about the doors and the gifts, right?”

Carlos nodded jerkily. “He told me. But I thought it was just a story, then.”

Antonio interrupted them all to come up and wrap his arms around Carlos and the chair Carlos was sitting in. “A new cousin!” he proclaimed. “Hi, new cousin! I’m Antonio!”

“Uh - hi, Antonio,” Carlos said, sitting very stiffly and ill at ease, seemingly uncomfortable.

“Do we also get to meet a new tía?” Antonio wanted to know, still keeping his small arms wrapped around Carlos’ stomach.

“What?” Dolores asked.

“If we have a new cousin,” Antonio explained, “then we also have a new tia! Is she visiting, too? Can we meet her?” He looked around expectantly, as though waiting for the cousins’ new tia to come walking in.

“No!” Carlos snapped, and then again, calmer, gingerly removing Antonio’s arms from they were wrapped around him, “No. You won’t meet her. You can’t meet her. She’s not here.”

Mirabel remembered when Carlos’ door had appeared, only about a year after her own failed ceremony. She’d been so excited, because she’d thought she would finally be getting a gift, after all. But then the door hadn’t even been for her.

She’d been jealous, at first. She had been born and raised in Casita and got no gift or room at all, while the cousin the rest of them knew nothing about would have gotten a room and gift of his own - or would have had, if he’d been there to open his door. But he hadn’t been, so his door had faded as well.

But she’d also felt a strange kinship. After all, the mysterious C was also a giftless Madrigal. There had been no C to open the door. No C to receive a gift. She wasn’t the only Madrigal without a gift, then.

Every year, the Madrigal cousins marked the date the door had appeared as C’s birthday. It was a day of tense silences, a day to be lost in thought, just like the triplets’ birthday was, and Mirabel’s birthday, and a random day near the beginning of November that they had eventually realized was the day Tío Bruno had been taken away.

She’d always wondered if one day, somehow, she would get to meet the mysterious C. And now, here he was.

This is a week or so before Antonio receives his gift.

I figure that Carlos would know some Spanish because if and when Bruno was present in his childhood, he would have spoken it to him. Also, once he found out he’s getting sent to Encanto for the summer, he would have tried to learn some; he’s smart, he’s picked up at least the basics by now.

As an aside, according to Return to the Isle of the Lost, Carlos’ middle name is Oscar. And what was Bruno’s name originally in some early concept art? Oscar.

[sparkles-and-trash]

Birthday Bird

notes: just a few hours late, look at me go! I love him so much, and couldn't not do a little something for his birthday!

summary: three birthdays, three gifts, and a lot of feelings surrounding it all, a Hawks birthday fic!

ao3 version

1

The first birthday Keigo can remember is one of the few truly happy memories of his childhood.

It was his fourth birthday, at least that was what his mother told him when he asked why she let him sleep in, which was highly unusual for him.

She promised him that she would do the best she could to make today a good birthday, because birthdays are special.

That was news to Keigo.

But he did understand that today had potential, especially considering the fact that his father was nowhere to be seen, which probably meant he was away doing some scary work for some scary people.

After Keigo made himself some cereal, his mom helped him get dressed in his least raggedy clothes, and did her best at trying to brush his hair, which didn't do much, but it made his tiny wings flutter with affection, and his throat chirp as a quiet 'thank you'.

When they get into town, his mom lets him go and look in all the windows he wants, his wings fluttering and eyes beaming at all the shiny things in the displays.

Then they go to the food market that has a lot of free samples, and just as Keigo almost starts feeling full, his mother quietly tells an ice cream vendor that it's his birthday, and he gets a whole scoop for free.

He can hardly believe that this day is real.

Just as they are starting on the long walk out of town and back home, they pass this little store with a bunch of discount items out front, and there he saw it;

The Endeavor plushie.

His hero, right here, in a tiny, holdable size.

Keigo didn't have to say anything, for once his mother noticed something.

She quietly told him to wait here, went inside the store, and when she came back out, she didn't seem to have bought anything, so Keigo didn't ask.

Keigo didn't think anymore of it until has was about to go to sleep, and his mom discreetly pushed the little plush into his arms and gave him a little kiss on the forehead.

Keigo couldn't believe it.

His mothered had wandered off before he had snapped out of it, but he knew she understood.

She got quiet when she was feeling a lot, too.

Keigo had trouble falling asleep that night, because he didn't want to close his eyes and take his eyes of his new possession, and wake up to find this day had all been a dream.

2

When Keigo turns 18, he is thrown out into the world like a baby bird about to take its first flight.

Except he's been flying for years.

And he is as far from being free as ever.

But what he does have, is his own agency.

And a fresh, new Hero career to dive head first into.

So, at the night of his eighteenth birthday, Keigo was not out celebrating with friends. In fact, he didn't have any friends.

He had been doing prepping work at his agency the whole day, and when he finally landed on the balcony of his brand new penthouse apartment, courtesy of the Commission, he was ready to hit the hay.

As his hand felt around the still unfamiliar wall for the light switch, and then found it, he realized there was a package left for him at the kitchen island.

A childish part of him thought maybe his mother had reached out to the Commission to send him something, but that idea quickly died as he flipped the card over.

Just some standard shit from the Commission.

Of course.

However, as he tore the paper off the package with this talons, he was actually taken aback with its content.

A small plushie, eerily similar to the one on his nightstand, but in stead of Endeavor, it was... him?

When he found the little note informing him this was the first, official merch made for him;

Wing Hero Hawks.

It felt oddly symbolic, the whole thing, and he hated himself for feeling like that.

He there the plushie in the nightstand drawer and tried not to think anymore of it.

3

Keigo's 24th birthday nearly passed without him realizing it.

But this time, it wasn't for the usual reasons.

Every year since his hero debut, Keigo had hid away on his birthday.

He hated the way the media blew it up, and all the extra attention from his fans and supporters made him uncomfortable.

If he were completely honest, he didn't like the reminder of how utterly alone he was, either.

But by his 24th, that had somehow changed.

Not unlike his on his eighteenth, he came back to his place close to midnight.

However, this time, his place was really his place.

It was smaller than the apartment the Commission had put him in, but he preferred it that way.

The place was warm, and homey, and Keigo actually liked spending time there.

That was all still new to him.

That night, he wasn't home late because of work.

He was home late because he had been out to dinner with Rumi, Hakamada, Taishiro, Aizawa and Yamada, who had all insisted on doing something to celebrate his birthday.

That had turned into drinks with Rumi, and just as he has started talking giving Dab-, no, Touya, his name is Touya, a call at the rehab center he knew he was staying at, Ruminator had decided it was time to call it a night.

When he entered his apartment, Keigo made sure to put all the little gifts he had gotten that day on his kitchen table to look at one more time, reading the cards and trying to take it all in.

Endeavor hadn't been able to join the dinner, but he had offered to take him out for lunch, and it had cost every ounce of self restraint he possessed not to ask about Touya.

At the end of the meal, Enji had given him a card that was signed by all the Todoroki's except Touya and a little envelope with a way too familiar handwriting on it.

From him, Enji had said.

However, Keigo new better than to open that when he was alone and bordering on the limit of drunk of his ass.

Maybe tomorrow.

But there was one more gift Keigo hadn't gotten to open yet, left at his office by his little protégé, Tokoyami.

Keigo dumped down on his couch as he started carefully unwrapping the small item, and when he pulled it out, he felt an odd, powerful mix of emotions overtake him.

A plushie.

A Tsukuyomi plushie.

With it was a note written with the tell tale calligraphy Tokoyami always used, telling Keigo it was all thanks to him that he had come this far, that he had gotten his first merch produced, that he had become the hero he always wanted.

If he were sober, Keigo might have held it together a little better, but as it was, the note was nearly drenched in tears by the end of it.

Still hiccuping slightly, Keigo headed towards his bedroom, still holding the plush, and made his way over to the nightstand, opening the drawer slowly.

He picked up the two plushies already inside, one old, withered and dearly beloved, and the other disregarded for the past six years.

He neatly sat all tree of them down on his nightstand, three hero plushies in a row;

All birthday presents, all representing a very different time in Keigo's life.

For the first time since in twenty years, Keigo fell asleep with a smile on his face on his birthday.

masterlist - wip list - ao3 - twitter

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Children of the Dark: Final Part

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~3.1k

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill

Author’s Note: So sorry I keep forgetting to post. I’ve been so busy at work, I try to keep up with the schedule I’ve outlined. I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there is any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them. If you’ve seen the show, then it’s the same level of angst unless otherwise stated

You don't know how long it'll take for Ervin to come into work, but you left your number with the manager so you can explore other options. The foster home has to be the breakthrough. You know foster care better than anyone because your parents were foster parents. They had so many small children in and out of the home. The kid who stayed the longest was a young boy, but he left at the age of twelve. You were the only older one in the house as every other kid was under the age of twelve.

If you can talk to the other kids, then you can try and connect with them. Maybe even the foster mom since you know how your mom worked. The foster mom, Kim, was shocked to hear that one of her former kids was on a rampage. The second you stepped foot into the house, you recognized the atmosphere and associated the energy with your past.

The past and present blur together until you're standing in the middle of your childhood home with your mother and father instead of Kim in front of you.

Your mom and dad brought home yet another child. This one is a little bit older than the ones they take in, but there is something off about him. He's... too scared. Why is he scared? Your mom and dad are nothing but loving parents. Living in a home with a bunch of different kids that come from all over is enough to overwhelm you.

You're sitting at the kitchen table eating breakfast while your parents make the lunches for all the kids today. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see the newest recruit, Jacob, sneak into the kitchen. Your dad has a strict rule about kids being inside the kitchen while they're prepping, but Jacob didn't get the memo.

You look at him and widen your eyes slightly, shaking your head as if to tell him not to do it. Your dad can be a scary person if needed to be, and you'd hate to see Jacob get hurt. Jacob doesn't listen to you and tries to sneak some food because he didn't get to eat this morning. Your dad turns around and catches the small child, and you sigh deeply.

"Jacob! What did I say earlier? You're not allowed to be in here when your mother and I are in here."

"But I'm hungry," he says with wide eyes.

"You missed out on breakfast. Next time, you need to get down here earlier. Now, go get ready for school."

Jacob runs away with hints of tears in his eyes. You take two hard boiled eggs from your plate and pocket them with the intention you're going to give them to him later.

"Sweetheart, are you done eating?" your dad asks you.

"Yeah."

"Okay, lovebug, go get ready for school. I'll drive you myself."

He leans over and kisses you multiple times on your head, and you giggle as you push him away.

There is a lock on the fridge when Kim leads you inside to talk privately. The key to the fridge is around her neck. This isn't a foster mom. She's what you like to call a greedy person. The people that foster kids just for the money.

"My god. Ervin? Well, I mean, he had behavior problems. They all do, nothing we couldn't handle," Kim says.

"He hasn't been acting alone, Mrs. Manwaring. He's got a partner. Perhaps someone else who grew up in your care."

A young boy, probably junior high age, comes into the kitchen and tries to use the fridge.

"Tyler, the adults are talking here."

For a split second, Tyler is Jacob and Kim is your dad.

"I just want some milk. Can you open the fridge?"

"You know the rules." Tyler doesn't say anything else and leaves the kitchen, but you know exactly what he is feeling. "They'll eat you out of house and home if you let them."

"It's just milk," you say before you can stop yourself. "It costs less than five bucks. Are you really not going to let him have a glass of milk?"

"Is there anyone Ervin was especially close to?" Hotch asks, giving you a hard look. "Someone he would have looked up to? Somebody who protected him?

"Gary. We tried with him, but... he tested us."

"Have you kept in touch with him?"

"Oh, god, no. Gary left the day he turned eighteen and never looked back. Ervin was a mess when he got here. He got separated from a younger sister."

"Where did she go?" you ask.

"Nobody told me. Siblings get separated all the time, but they find new ones here. Like how Ervin found Gary."

"What was the name of his sister, the one he was separated from?"

"Oh, let me think. He used to call her name out in the middle of the night and wake the whole house up. Rosie, I think."

"Lucy?" you ask.

"Yes! Lucy. That was it."

"Carrie said he called her Lucy," you whisper to Hotch.

Hotch's phone rings, and he answers it quicker than he hangs up.

"Ervin returned the call. He's on his way to work."

Your team files out of the house, but you're the last one to leave. You turn and look back, locking eyes with Kim. She quickly looks away and fingers the key necklace she has on. You look to the stairs and see Tyler sitting on it with an unreadable expression. However, his aura tells you everything you need to know.

Without another word, you leave the house.

Ervin was caught the second you showed up and was taken back to the police station. He's only been here for an hour, but he isn't giving anything up. Derek took his second chance at Ervin, but he's not speaking to him.

"Let me try something," you say and get up from your seat.

You walk into the room, and Ervin looks at you once just to see who it is before looking back down at the table.

"Ervin, I want to tell you a little bit about myself, okay? My name is Y/N, and I was raised in a foster home growing up." A slight lie since you were the biological child, but he doesn't need to know this. "My dad wasn't very nice sometimes, and I know that you've suffered in the past. It doesn't have to be like this anymore."

Ervin is close to breaking, you can feel it, but he won't talk to you.

"I know you're scared, Ervin, but you don't have to hide anymore."

When he doesn't look at you, you know you won't get to him. With a sigh, you get up and leave the room.

"Do you want another crack at him?" Derek asks Hotch.

"No. We can't keep going around like this."

"So, let him stew. Wear him down," Nellis suggests.

"We don't have time," you say. "We need him to find Gary."

"Kids who grew up like he did, they're incapable of forming attachments. It's not like we're gonna earn his trust. Their whole MO was predicated on the union of their two personalities, and with Ervin out of the picture, there's no telling what Gary could do."

"He won't talk to us, but I know who can get him to talk. I know it's a long shot, but she's the only person who can do this. We need to bring in Carrie."

Since Carrie was hanging at the police station after the hospital discharged her, Emily went to get her. You don't like this, but this is the only way. Ervin let her live, and there is a reason why. If anyone can get him to talk, it's going to be her.

"Right this way. Remember, he'll be in handcuffs and leg irons. There'll be nothing to worry about," Hotch assures the young girl when she comes in.

"I will be in there with you," Emily offers.

"Okay."

"You don't have to do this if you don't want to, Carrie," you say and lean back on the table.

"I do, though."

"Remember, we're interested in Gary--his whereabouts or his next move. I will keep him on point about that, Carrie. Just try your best to keep him engaged."

Emily escorts Carrie into the room where Ervin is. As soon as he sees her, he straightens up and a smile forms on his face.

"Hey. You're here. Did you, uh, did you get the flowers that I sent?"

"Yeah... pretty."

"They were to say that, uh... that I'm sorry."

"Flowers aren't enough, Ervin. We need Gary," Emily says.

"No! They're gonna send you away now. Don't you see? That's what they do with all the strays. They send them away. That's why I make them go to sleep, so that they don't have to suffer," Ervin whimpers.

"Ervin, more people are going to suffer if we can't find Gary."

"So, when you killed my brother, you were doing him a favor?" Carrie asks, and you know this is going to take a turn immediately.

"It's true."

"What about me?"

"Let's just address one thing at a time," Emily says, but both people ignore her.

"I just wanted to see you again. You look so much like Lucy, I just... I couldn't... I... I know... I know it's selfish, but..."

"Selfish? It's insane!"

"Okay, Carrie, let's take a break," Emily says, but she isn't done.

"What happened to you that was so bad?"

"She used to make it go dark. I mean, that's what we used to call it. She would put me in the bath to pray. Then she'd hold my head down under the water. Sometimes I could stay awake... for like a minute... and sometimes a little more. Then it would all go dark."

"They've still got kids in that house," you say with a heartbroken look. "She's not a good mom. They're all going to suffer."

"Another kid, another welfare check," Nellis sighs.

"Let's call CPS. See if you can get them out of there," Hotch says to Derek who is happy to try.

"What is she doing?" JJ asks, causing you to look back at the three people.

Carrie has her hand on Ervin's as if she sympathizes with him. This girl can act because her actions and her feelings are completely different.

"They can't hurt you anymore, Ervin."

"I wanted to stop, but Gary, he... he went through it way, way worse when we were kids, and he... he never got the chance to fight back."

"So, he fought those other families," Emily sighs.

"Only because I wouldn't go back."

"Did he say back?" you ask.

"Back? Gary's going to your foster home, isn't he?"

The look on Ervin's face is enough of an answer.

"Get him out of there."

The officers rush into the room and grab Ervin to remove him. Only until he is gone does Carrie break down crying, looking at Emily for comfort. Carrie is going to be okay as long as Emily is with her. You need to go back to Kim's house to make sure that she doesn't suffer at the hands of Gary... no matter how much she may or may not deserve it.

Kim is shocked when everyone shows up at her doorstep, but this is for her protection. She rushes out of the house with an angry look on her face.

"What is all this?"

"We have reason to believe that Gary may be on his way here to hurt you."

"Me? I don't understand!" she gasps.

"These murder are rehearsals of what he wants to do to you because of what you did to him in this house," you glare.

"I don't know what you're talking about!"

"Ma'am, there is no reason to lie to us. The fact is, you and your husband are in danger."

"I... I have to pick up the children at school."

"We'll send someone to pick them up. The only way we can protect you is if you go back inside."

She looks from you to Hotch to Spencer, and he just raises his eyebrows at her as if he's telling her to fucking try him. She huffs out and heads back inside, but the job isn't over yet. Because she is still standing, that means Gary isn't here. He's had plenty of time to come here and hurt her... so where is he?

Emily and Derek go to grab the kids, but as soon as they get to the school, the kids are missing. Turns out that Gary picked them up, and he could be anywhere with them. Luck must be on your side since there were multiple witnesses that saw the make and model of his car, and it wasn't long until you got a location of that car.

Hotch left to join Derek and Emily while you, Spencer, and JJ left to tail Gary wherever he may be going. Denver PD put a twenty-radius block, so Gary couldn't have gone that far. Once you got sight of the car, you followed him all the way to a donut shop. By the time you got there, everyone was inside the place.

You take out your phone and call Hotch who answers on the second ring.

"We got him. He's at a donut shop two miles from the school."

"Does he have the kids?"

You use your binoculars to see inside, but frown when you only see Tyler with him and not the small girl that was supposed to be with him.

"We got a visual of Gary and the boy, but I don't see the girl."

Someone knocks on your window, and you jump in shock before seeing the young girl you know was with Tyler.

"Are you the police?"

"Yeah."

"He told me to give this to you."

She hands you a note, and you take it before opening it.

"We might have a problem, Hotch."

If you come in, I'll kill him.

That's the note that Gary had the little girl bring out to you since he's still inside with Tyler. Everyone from your team to SWAT to law enforcement are outside the diner. If Gary thinks that the police are closing in on him, he might kill Tyler, and you can't have that.

"Guys, guys, fall back, I don't want them feeling boxed in," Hotch says.

"I got sharpshooters lining up."

"Tell them to keep their safeties on. I want to talk to him first."

"Hotch? I got the clerk," JJ says and hands over the phone to him.

"That guy sitting at the table with the little boy, I'd like to speak to him, please."

"Who's this?" Gary says on the other line.

"I'm the only thing standing between you and a bullet."

"Bring it. I always wanted to die in a donut shop."

"And never see Ervin again? He told us what the Manwarings did to you in that house."

"I don't care what he told you, it's history.

"They're the objects of your anger, Gary, not that little boy in there."

"It's too late for the boy, regardless."

"No, it's not. It's not, Gary, and deep down, I think you know that he still has a chance. He doesn't have to be you."

"Maybe. Maybe not. So let's say we leave it up to him."

Gary hangs up the phone, and you sigh deeply. It's either Tyler is going to kill someone, Gary will, or they'll both die. A few seconds later, Tyler comes out of the diner without Gary. Derek immediately rushes in and takes him away, letting Emily bring him to a safe space. A few more seconds later, Gary walks out and all hell breaks loose.

"Gary, put your hands up where I can see them. Don't move!" Derek yells at him, pointing his gun at him.

"Get down on your knees. Interlace your fingers behind your head," an officer says, and Gary does as he's told. Something isn't right here. Something is wrong, but you don't know what it is. "Give me this hand. Give me this hand. Get on your feet."

Once handcuffed, the officer takes away Gary.

"Something isn't right," you mutter, but Spencer hears.

"What?"

"I don't know. I just feel it."

CPS won't let the children go anywhere else until a full investigation is done, so Emily and Derek have no choice but to take the children back to Kim. It sucks, but that's the law. There is no reason for everyone to go to the house, so only the duo takes the kids home. Hotch and JJ head back to the police station to finish up paperwork. You and Spencer stay at the diner to make sure everything is okay with the store clerk.

You enter the diner and take a seat, looking out the window in thought. Gary gave up too easily. Hotch is good, but he's not that good.

"Everything okay?" Spencer asks, taking a seat next to you and setting a small plate with a sprinkled donut in front of you.

"Gary gave up too easily. The profile doesn't support this behavior. He would have come up with a plan to kill Kim... even if he wasn't the one to do it."

"I didn't know anything was up until he, uh, came and got the phone. That's when I saw the piece. Then I handed him the phone," the clerk says.

"Piece? Did he say piece?" you ask Spencer.

"Excuse me, did you say piece?"

"Uh, yeah, revolver of some sort. He had it stuck in his pants."

"Did you clear a gun?" Spencer asks the officer talking to the clerk.

"No."

"Spencer, Tyler has the gun. No one thought to check the backpacks of the kids."

Spencer whips out his phone and dials Hotch, getting him on the second ring.

"Hotch, the clerk said Gary had a gun, but we didn't recover anything here. ... I guess it's probably here somewhere. A gun doesn't just walk away. Y/N's theory is that he gave Tyler the gun."

You should have gone with Emily and Derek because it turns out that Gary did give his gun to Tyler knowing that he was going to return home to Kim. She wasn't hurt, but Tyler did use the gun to shoot a few of the family pictures on the walls. He scared her so bad that you hope she learns her lesson and becomes a better mom to these kids. Derek was able to talk Tyler into giving up the gun, promising to take him out of there.

Being involved in cases that have children is always a tough one for you because now, they all remind you of Hannah. She deserved more than what she was given, just like the kids in this case. You don't want to go home until they are all out of a toxic home, but there is nothing you can do.

When you arrive back in Virginia, Spencer drives you back to your hotel. You really don't want to live here anymore, but what are you going to do? Spencer sees your hesitation to get out, and the idea that has been inside his head for the past week finally sees enough light.

"Hey, you know I have no problem with you staying with me."

"It could be months or even longer until it's back up."

"You already have your clothes and a toothbrush there. The only thing missing... is you."

"Is this your way of asking me to move in with you?" you ask with a smile.

"Would you say yes?"

"I'd say nothing would make me happier."

You lean in and kiss him, wondering how you ever got so lucky to have him in your life.

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[procrastinatorproject]

Procrastinator's Kitchen Countdown - An Introduction

About 6-7 weeks to go (I hope)

When I came back from studying abroad a few years ago, I moved into a shared flat with a friend of mine. Finding housing in this city is a bit of a hassle, and her former flatmate left a few weeks before I returned, so the arrangement was perfect.

The flat is in the attic of a fairly old "Mehrfamilienhaus", i.e. a house with a number of units big enough for single people or small families. It's fifty steps down to the front door and another seven or so to get into the basement where the washing machine lives (woe is me!).

I like my flat! It was turned from a simple attic into an actual living space somewhat hastily in the 1950's, so the insulation isn't amazing, the doors and windows are fairly old, and it gets really hot in the summer. But it's a decent place to live and it's close to both the university and downtown areas. And because my previous flatmate had lived here for many, many years, the rent had stayed much lower than other places around town, where landlords could increase their ask every time the tenants changed - a frequent occurrence in a city full of students.

Then, four years ago, my friend finished her degree and moved to a different part of the country, which meant I was faced with a decision. I could get a new flatmate (not ideal, since I hate sharing living space with strangers and was really looking forward to living on my own again for a while), or I could try and find a smaller, cheaper place somewhere else in town. However, when I looked around, I realized that my current rent would get me a place about 2/3 the size of my current flat, and to pay less, I would barely get half the space or would have to move to the edges of town. So, I decided to stay and take the rent on myself. After all, it was "just for a short while" and "just until I finished my humanities degree and figured out where I'd go next".

Four years later, I am back in school, studying to get a BSc in computer science, and I'm unlikely to leave town, or even this flat, any time soon.

While I'm glad to have a little more certainty in my life (and finally allowing myself to switch to a career path that actually gives me so, so much joy was easily the best choice I made in the last decade), it also made me realize something: I was no longer in a holding pattern, uncertain whether I would be living in this place for six more months or six more years, and I could start making real plans to make this flat my home.

Which brings me to my kitchen.

My kitchen is pretty small, even by German standards. It's more than the tiny pantry kitchen I had when I first moved out to go to university, but it's still barely big enough to have two people in it at the same time and is nestled under the roof, with the slanted wall coming down to about knee height. The furniture and especially the appliances were already a student-flat-share inheritance when my former flatmate moved in over ten years ago. They got a new fridge when she arrived (the guys living here before had simply hung a bunch of their foods out the window in the winter after their old fridge broke down and apparently had been content with that), but the oven was already worn out at that point. By now, the bottom of the fridge keeps flooding, the sink is starting to leak, and the oven... well.

I have been wanting to bake more cakes and biscuits, and to really try my hand at baking bread for a while. But especially the latter requires you to have fairly good control over your oven's temperature, and for the longest time, my oven door wouldn't even close properly! It took an evening of intense pre-Christmas baking and food-prep to get it hot enough that the warped hinge finally decided to jump back into its original form with an almighty CLANG!, allowing me to close the door without leaving a small gap at the top.

So, about a year and a half ago, once I knew I was going to stay in this flat for the foreseeable future, I started toying with the idea of getting a new kitchen.

For those who don't know, if you rent a flat in Germany, it's maybe 50/50 whether it will come with a kitchen provided by the owner, or you have to bring in your own. Actually, I think having a pre-installed kitchen might be a lot less common than having one, but you can get lucky and buy the previous tenant's kitchen off them for a small fee, which might skew the general perception. Either way, my kitchen is one of the tenant-owned ones.

So, getting new applianves and furniture would fall entirely on my own head (and budget!). This would of course give me a lot of freedom to design it the way I want, but it also means I'll have to figure out what to do with it once I do I move out. I might be able to sell it to the next tenant, or I might even be able to take it with me wherever I move next. But this worry still made it very difficult for me to actually commit to the undertaking - which is one of the main reasons it has taken me until now to get there.

One thing that finally helped sway me was that any time I mentioned possibly getting a new kitchen to people who had actually been in and used the current one (my mother, my sister, my friends), their reaction pretty universally was: "Oh, thank god, finally!!" And as a Christmas/birthday present, my presents promised to chip in financially and help with planning and organizing.

And now, two years after deciding to stay in this flat and well over a year after first opening the IKEA kitchen planner, I Am Finally Doing It!

I have a fairly clear idea of what I want my new kitchen to look like, I have talked to the IKEA kitchen people about logistics and planning, I have created a dedicated section in Notion to keep track of all the cleaning, sorting, ordering, painting, buying, building, etc. I need to do, and I have a rough time frame.

I AM GETTING A NEW KITCHEN!!!

And I'm taking you all along for the ride!