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cookiem1996 · 3 years

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The Scottish Stranger Chp2

AN: Ahoy there! I know it has been awhile since chapter one, but I have been very busy with work and life. Now that I am sick, unfortunately, I have had enough time to update and continue this story based off of Zelda’s recounts of her Academy days featuring a crossover of Supernatural’s Rowena Macelod. I hope you guys enjoy this second chapter and I am hoping to continue more on this installment and perhaps a reunion between a present Zelda and Rowena. This chapter does contain some actual Gaelic mythology. I thought it would please you all witches at heart. Enjoy.

The Scottish Stranger Chp 2

Another great storm thundered in Greendale.

This time it is in the present. The rain still intrigues Zelda. She finds herself curled up by the window as she marks last week’s exams in the comfort of her home.

Sure, she usually spent a lot more time at the Academy of the Unseen Arts, but she was done hearing her sister’s pleas to pry her out of the environment lest, ‘you start becoming a hermit in that office’.

Honestly, it relieved Zelda to be home; she found it to be a comfort. Her family home never always used to be this way, with its thunderous memories of decay and turmoil. Now, the only memories that went through her mind were times of happiness, times of family...times where she would hear Sabrina ramble on about menial means of her adolescence.

Oh how she missed her niece. A weak smile graced her aged features as she thought about the day when Sabrina got her green thumb.

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“Auntie! Auntie! Look what Aunt Hilda and I planted!”

Zelda neatly folded her newspaper and set it down. “Come now, let’s see it.”

A young Sabrina tugged her Aunt Zelda with no care to the garden where Hilda knelt feeding a plant with some plant food.

“My lilacs will grow right there, Auntie! You’ll see!”, Sabrina beams.

Zelda glanced down at her little niece with the softest grin. She knelt down and brought her into a hug.

Sabrina crinkles her nose, but hugs her back. “What’s this for?”

Zelda shuts her eyes to fight back a tear. “Don’t you ever change, Sabrina.”

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Zelda frowns then seeing a watermark over Michael Hanover’s test. Her fingers wander up to her cheekbone feeling wetness. With a soft sigh she grabs a tissue and dabs gently under her eyes.

“When will I be done with these accursed tears?”, she asks herself in defeat.

She was ready to take another sip from her cup, but made a face. “Hilda! This is empty!”

There was silence aside from the storm. She furrowed her brows not hearing any footsteps. It took her a moment to realize she was truly alone now. Hilda wasn’t here, of course. She was home with her new husband. Ambrose went away to ‘find himself’. All Zelda had was Vinegar Tom and Salem.

It surprised the witch that Salem continued on living even with his charge, Sabrina, being no longer of this world.

Zelda sighs and sets aside all of the graded papers. She gets up wandering to the kitchen. She grabbed the kettle to make more tea. She felt so lifeless, so out of place. She knew she had to get out of this funk soon-for her coven.

Zelda nearly jumps out of her skin feeling a slight brush against her legs. She glances down to see Salem curled up around her leg. Although she didn’t like the feline from the start, it seemed the cat warmed up to her and she warmed up to him.

“I know, Salem. I miss her too.”, She speaks softly.

Zelda gives herself an assured nod before proceeding to brew some tea. She turned on the TV for once to see more news. She read this morning’s paper at least three times bored out of her mind.

There was a news report about the President having been attacked and that the assailants were in custody. She raises a brow noticing they didn’t name the criminals, but were focused on the President’s accounts.

“Breaking News: seems the brothers in custody have escaped. Be on the lookout for Sam and Dean Winchester.”, an anchorman reported.

Zelda tilts her head. Those names sounded familiar-for sure. Vinegar Tom barks lightly and nudges at his food bowl catching his charge’s attention.

“Okay, okay, sir.”, Zelda coos toward her familiar. “Help yourself.”

Zelda fills his bowl and sets it in front of him before doing the same for Salem. She rolls her eyes turning off the TV when the stories went on about what hairstyles were in for the season. Nothing intrigued her much except for political world affairs and stories with meaning.

Zelda hears the whistle of the kettle and scuffles over to it to turn off the burner. She moves the kettle away from the still heated kettle and stares off.

That whistle...

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Academy of the Unseen Arts-Past

Zelda sighed in defeat hearing the lunch bell go off. She became so engrossed on today’s lesson: Demons and the Archeron. Demonology really piqued the young red-head's interest. She could spend all day reading spellwork and the ways of conjuring one of Satan’s helpers.

She gathered her books and bag as she watched everyone rush out of the classroom, clamoring about today’s newest gossip; it was all anyone could talk about now-the new girl. A roll of Zelda’s eyes didn’t go unnoticed by her professor.

Professor Ghastly arched an old withered brow as he cleared his desk. “Ms. Spellman, is everything alright?”, he asked.

Zelda’s blue eyes looked up toward her professor. She sighs before she answers, “Quite. I am just upset the lesson is over for today.”

Professor Ghastly scoffed lightly and smiled lightly. “You really are one who truly appreciates my lessons. Don’t worry, we’ll touch more tomorrow. Who knows, one day you’ll be the best spell-caster the Coven has ever seen.”

Zelda offered a faint grin and gave a curt nod. “Thank you, Professor. I shall see you tomorrow.”

With that, Zelda left the classroom beaming in pride. She knew she already was the best spell-caster. Faustus leaned against the wall ahead in the hall watching her like a hawk. He approached her with a sly grin.

“Done being the teacher’s pet?”, he sneered teasing her.

Zelda rolls her eyes and nudges him as she walks side by side with him. “Done drooling over every witch you encounter? I swear I should conjure up a spell to castrate you.”, she teases back.

This is what her and Faustus Blackwood did every day; they would taunt each other whilst casting a lustful stare. Zelda knew she couldn’t want him. Faustus would be fawning over the next new thing like nothing occurred between them. The only girl he ‘stuck with’ the most was Constance. Zelda didn’t understand why, the girl was petty. Constance was a jealous cow because she knew even though Faustus would stray, he would also go back to flirting his way with Zelda as well. Zelda figured Faustus didn’t know what he wanted. Constance’s family had been in good noble standing, whereas with the Spellman’s, they were known for their wit and they were quite the impeccable conjurers. She assumed he had the future in mind-the right Blackwood bride.

“My, my, Ms. Spellman. How naughty of you.”, Faustus feigned offense. “You may have some leverage yet.”

Zelda shrugs with a skip to her step. “I’d say so.”

Faustus nodded in greeting to his inner circle. The best of the best warlocks the Academy had to offer. “Perhaps I should meet you after your rehearsal this afternoon. What do you say, Spellman?

Zelda pursed her lips playfully and tilted her head. “Depends...”

Faustus raises a dark brow. “On?”

Zelda stops and leans to whisper in his ear. “If you bring the thing I mentioned.”

Faustus’s smirk grew. “Certainly.” He winked and then went off with his friends.

Zelda watched him go and sighed deeply. Quite the bad idea for sure. Unlike Faustus, she hadn’t been thinking of the future. Whatever she wanted to do, it would be for the moment-living in the now.

Before heading to the cafeteria, Zelda went on to switch out her books for her next class. She didn’t get herself a locker, thinking it was the worst idea to cram one’s books in such a cramped space. She walked down the hall to her dorms, which to her convenience, was right nearby.

She paused then, furrowing her light brows hearing this soft whistle. The whistle echoed lightly down the hall. It sounded so...enchanting, the melody she couldn’t place. This sound made her venture forward, passing the large wooden door to her dorm.

There, nestled by the window over-looking the outside of the Gehenna Station sat none other than that bloody Scot. A scowl rose on Zelda’s perfect upper lip having found the source of the light and strangely enchanting whistle.

Rowena’s features remained calm however, her pale fingers drumming against the window pane. She took notice of the presence behind her through the reflection of the window and started to sing that tune she whistled earlier.

Zelda did not recognize what seemed to be an old folk song, but she knew the girl sung in Gaelic. Zelda knew her languages very well. She knew how to pick up an old dialect when she heard one.

“Ya know what this song is about?”, Rowena broke the silence.

Zelda tilts her head in wonder. Although she recognized the language, she hadn’t been translating it in her mind word for word-instead having been enchanted by that voice of hers. This frustrating newcomer sang like the lark, her beauty matching her voice.

Zelda snaps out of it and huffs, placing a free hand on her hip. “I am sure you will enlighten me.”

Zelda could just feel that growing smirk on the other girl’s lips. She saw the way her shoulders rose up, mischief teeming in her body language. This girl...she was so animating.

“It’s about a man’s burning lust for a bonnie. How his pecker hurt because she is this image of perfection.”

Zelda’s face turned a bright red. Who would make such a disgusting...

Rowena laughs, throwing her head back in amusement. She turned to take a look at Zelda’s growing irritation. “Had ya going there, didn’t I?”

Zelda’s resting hand on her hip squeezed, eyebrows furrowed as she glared right at the Scot.

“Hilarious. Were you the jester in your podunk village?”, Zelda sneers.

Rowena’s red brows flew up, but the wry smile never went away. “Is that all ya can come up with?”, she retorts. “At least ya find me humorous.”

Zelda’s jaw set as she scrutinized the smaller girl. “You didn’t want me to forget that you were a poor simple girl the other night. You want people to pity you, don’t you? It’s pathetic.”

Rowena scoffed and snickered shaking her head. Satan, in Hell, she was irritating.

“Bold of ya to say, spoiled brat. It’s so easy to look down on those beneath ya, eh? Ya think I want pity? Why do ya even think I am here?”

Zelda shifted in place clearly not wanting to deal with her right now, toes turned back toward the door to her dorm.

“You’ve got nowhere to go...”, she began stepping closer so she towered over the seated girl. “You need a roof over your head, food in your belly, someplace to mooch off of. You may be a young witch, but you are standing in a great Academy for witches who want to learn, want to let the Dark Lord into one’s life. You don’t just come here to use this as your lounging spot.”, Zelda spat as she nudged toward Rowena’s seat.

Rowena narrows her green cat-shaped eyes. She slowly gets up, her nose nearly grazing Zelda’s chin. It miffed her that Zelda would take advantage of her height to be intimidating. Rowena sniffed as her eyes wandered up to gaze into those stormy blue eyes. She could smell that wonderful scent: fresh strawberries, lilies in the field. A part of Rowena wanted to be enveloped in that scent forever, wanted to test those beautiful red lips before her. Freak the girl out? No way. No one ever talked about the temptations of wanting the same sex. Rowena slowly discovered that the moment she saw the curious gaze of Zelda Spellman.

She wasn’t alone. Oh no, Zelda thought about gripping her red locks and giving into her temptation as well. The Dark Lord did say everyone had their own free will to take as they wanted, to sup and lap at every desire. No, she couldn’t desire the stranger. How dare she speak to her the way she did and still appeared as pretty as she did?

Zelda lifted her chin lightly appearing still to be mightier than the smaller girl. She couldn’t let herself give into those emerald eyes, those pouted pink lips, those amazing spackles of freckles on her porcelain skin. Her skin must have been soft, but her hands looked calloused and worn from what seemed to have been manual labor.

This temptation she would not submit to.

“Ya couldn’t be more wrong. In fact, I start classes tomorrow. I have just been trying to catch up on a few studies. You’ll be seeing me around a bit longer. I hope yer ready for that.”, Rowena spoke lowly and then gave her a smile like a crocodile. “I hope yer ready to see what I’m made of.”

Zelda scoffs trying to show her she didn’t fear her-not in the slightest. “Is that a threat?”, she asks quietly, eyes briefly glancing at those pink lips, mouth nearly watering to try them.

Rowena bit that cute lower lip as those deep green eyes seemed to glint brighter in mirth. “I assure ya it’s no threat. It’s a promise.”

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The next day, Zelda entered the earliest to her favorite class of the day: Spellwork and Conjuration. She polished off her workspace and organized her ink jar and quill to the right corner of her desk. She smiled as she pulled out a fresh piece of parchment, taking in the nice smell of new parchment paper. She loved to learn, loved to show off how much she absorbed being such an avid learner.

Zelda tried not to think about what Rowena said yesterday. So far, she didn’t have a class with her-how would she prove her ‘point’?

The rest of the class started to file in. They settled in their seats ready to learn. Zelda folded her hands in front of herself, sitting upright, but ready to pick up that quill when she needed to. All seemed to go well, until...she walked in.

Zelda’s blue eyes narrowed following the messy-haired petite witch as she made her way to the teacher’s desk. She bowed her head politely, which made Zelda roll her eyes. Of course she would do that. Being all proper-like, like she wasn’t raised in a barn.

“Oh look, better not catch the hay fever from Farm Girl.” Zelda sneered toward her friends as Rowena walked past her desk to find her spot.

The other girls snorted and eyed the smaller girl down, thinking they found their new harrowing target. Rowena ignored them, chin lifted and unamused as she sat down primly. She sets her textbook down and brings out a quill and ink jar. Unlike the rest, her quill was weathered and old, and her jar barely had a drop left.

“Okay, settle down, witches and warlocks. Now, if we can begin our lesson. Ahh...Rowena, I see you need a refill...”, Professor Ghastly began. He lifted a finger and her jar refilled.

Rowena gaped in surprise and smiled. “Thank you, Professor, sir.”, she replied sounding so refined as she sat upright ready to learn.

Zelda could not help but roll her eyes at this. There was no way her favorite teacher could take this peasant seriously. She didn’t even have her dress all the way buttoned at the front, the collar not propped up around her neck, rather it flopped down. Her messy curls were all astray and her fingers were already stained with ink from perhaps having used it in earlier classes. Yet, the way her green eyes lit up, eager to learn, eager to take in this lesson-the same enthusiasm Zelda had about learning made her wonder: would she take this class seriously? There had been no doubt that Rowena acted theatrically about everything, acting horribly to get her way-oh no. All that little teenaged girl had to do was bat those gorgeous eyes and she’d get her way. At least Zelda had her peers on her side, for now at least.

"Now for today’s lesson, we’re getting right back into trapping a demon into an archeron. You see, many warlocks of our time have created this contraption in efforts to seal away the most abhorrent or pesky demons that victimize a witch or warlock’s home. You see, the home of a spellcaster is the most vulnerable for what reason...Mr. Redburn.”, Professor Ghastly begins his lesson and calls on Bradley.

Bradley Redburn snaps out of his daze as some of the students turn to face him. Professor Ghastly loved to call on those who weren’t paying attention. If one had been asleep, he would place a simple ,harmless charm to jolt them awake. It amused him greatly as it had the students.

“Uhh...”, Bradley contemplates as he plays with his fingernails. He obviously had no idea what the answer was. It annoyed Zelda to bits that no one could be as passionate about these lessons as her.

“uhh...”, he drones on again and averts his gaze from his patient professor. “Because that’s where people sleep?”, he finally guesses.

Professor Ghastly sighs unsatisfied by that answer. “You’re on the right track. Ms. Spellman...”

Zelda perks up in her seat ready to answer.

“Why is a spellcaster’s home vulnerable?”, He asks again knowing very well Zelda could get them through the lesson.

Zelda knew people envied her for her attainable knowledge. If anything, it made Zelda feel special. It made her feel proud that she added nothing but respect to the Spellman name.

“It is vulnerable because a spellcaster’s home is known to be the heart of their power. You see, most spellcasters...”, she glances at Rowena wanting her to know she didn’t belong here. “have a long line to their name. They remain in the family home, where magic is built upon, where the ancestors remain to guide their successors to improve their bloodline. Destroying the heart would destroy the very thing that connects a spellcaster to their family, their honor. A demon may want to attack that to test us in the Dark Lord’s name. If we pass the test, the Dark Lord rewards us.”

Rowena tries not to scoff at the so obvious hit below-the-belt comment thrown from Zelda. Nonetheless, she takes notes on Zelda’s answer, finding that part very vital in learning the culture of this coven-family was important.

Professor Ghastly’s expression brightens as he pats Zelda’s shoulder and walks on through the aisle of desks. “Very good, Ms. Spellman. If you would all focus on your studies, you would understand the importance of defense. You should not let anything deceit your family name. The Dark Lord will smile upon future lines as long as you remain in good graces with him. You must understand he doesn’t mean to foil with us, make us feel small. We owe it to him to accept his tests and gladly do as he tells us. Now, I am going to show you diagrams of different archerons.”

Professor Ghastly made his way to the front of the classroom. He waves his hand over the chalkboard chanting under his breath. Before their eyes, an archeron was drawn on the board, filled with runes and sigils at every angle. The students watch in awe.

“This is an example of an archeron. A warlock and friend of mine created this trapping a demon who tried to snatch his children from his beds. Now sigils and runes make a spell, whether that be just specific to the demon or it be dependent on a warlock or witch’s background. Do any of you recognize these runes?”

Everyone in the room is silent as they observe the picture. Zelda redraws one of the runes on her parchment paper as if to help her decipher it. In all honesty, it had her stumped. She swore she never saw this before. She couldn’t have missed a lesson unless this was something they were yet to go over.

Suddenly everyone whips around in their seats seeing a fair, small hand raise up. Zelda follows their gazes and finds they’re observing Rowena herself. She knew? No way...

Professor Ghastly’s brows rose though he didn’t look so surprised. It’s like he felt like she would have known. Were they in cohoots?

“Yes, Ms. Macleod. What do you know about these runes?”, Professor Ghastly questions as he sits at the corner of his desk.

Rowena barely took notice at the eyes on her. She clears her throat and sits up more in her chair, legs uncrossing beneath her desk. “They’re Celtic.”, she responds. “I have seen those on some of the old monuments in my village. I studied them as they are a part of my culture and within my family line on my mum’s side. Those specifically translate to ‘The ‘napper of the furnace, ye shall not snatch the children of the Night. They are the future and are in the hands of the Dark Lord when they’re ready to give in’. It is clear that the warlock who created this has Celtic or Gaelic origins or...if we’re to be specfic...”

The students lean forward in their seats in innate curiosity. Zelda feigned disinterest, but she wanted to hear more, especially from that accent of hers. She licked her lower lip quickly and held onto her quill.

“It is the demon Fideal. It is known to inhabit a body of water-to drag down women and children to their deaths. Perhaps, the warlock’s children had been playing by the water and so he decided to trap the demon once and for all.”, Rowena finished and leaned back in her chair looking pleased with herself.

Fideal? Zelda never heard of that demon. How ironic, that the demon in this lesson was one from her homeland.

Professor Ghastly chuckled and nodded. “Very good, Ms. Macleod. It seems you could teach us a thing or two about your culture.”

Rowena flashed him this bright smile. “I would love that, Professor.”

Zelda nearly broke her quill, teeth gritting in irritation. She couldn’t get her favorite professor to like her too.

“Wonderful. Now, yes, it is not always the spellcaster’s origins that inspire a spell or trap although, using one’s family’s skill to outwit a demon is always helpful. You see, you also need to know your enemy. Not only should we take into account on what we know of ourselves, we must also be comfortable in learning to adapt-to use what we learn to expand our knowledge to perfect our powers.” Professor Ghastly went on and then turned his back to create a new picture.

Zelda looked at her trembling quill, her nerves and anger getting the better of her. She twisted her lips in thought, giving a quick glance toward the satisfied Rowena. She put two and two together forming a most delicious plan. Zelda formed a smirk reeling her attention to her ink jar. She lightly dabbed her quill as if attempting to write some more. She lifts the quill and yawns before flicking it in Rowena’s direction to splatter her with ink.

Zelda’s friends watched knowing very well what would happen in anticipating. They covered their mouths from an eruption of laugher.

What Zelda didn’t expect was Rowena’s attentiveness.

As the ink flew, making its way in Rowena’s direction, drops almost landing on her nose and the white drooped collar of her dress, her hand lifted halting the drops in place. Her green eyes changed, emitting this bright purple glow. The drops hovered in place, pulsating, awaiting for their permission to move again.

The room grew silent, jaws all agape in surprise. Zelda gasped inaudibly, the sound caught in her throat. Zelda paled and gulped wondering what Rowena’s next move could be. How did she do that? No witch she met could do that, could just freeze time without an utter of a chant or spell.

Professor Ghastly turned on his heels feeling this energy in the air. He himself stood there in shock. This witch was like no other witch-no, she was different. He marveled at how composed she made herself to be, her glowing eyes concentrated at even the tiniest drops missed barely by the human eye. It’s like she could even freeze the entire room with that magnitude of power in that petite body of hers.

Rowena held her breath before exhaling and pushing the droplets forward. Her eyes dimmed, hand lowering. The droplets fell right on the floor in front of her desk, nearly missing Lottie Scuzman’s hair, landing inches away from her chair leg.

Zelda did not move a muscle. Her throat dried. What was she? No witch can be that powerful, can she? Zelda turned in her seat quickly and set her quill down. Rowena did not back away from her promise. She did not expect this.

“...w-wow.”, Professor Ghastly stammered and fixed his composure. “I-where did you learn that?”

Rowena shrugged and tapped her ink-stained fingers on her desk. “As long as I can remember, I’ve been able to do that. My mum would tell me it’s because I am a natural witch.”, she explained. “Also, as long as I knew how to defend myself...I wouldn’t need a spellbook.” At this, she looked right at Zelda.

Zelda didn’t need to look at her to know her eyes bore on her. Rowena: 1, Zelda: 0.

Zelda hid her face of defeat.

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Spellman Home-the Holidays in the Past.

Being back home is what Zelda dreaded the most. She hated the holidays. This would mean she would have to face her father, Wilbur Reginald Spellman. Most would say Zelda resembled a lot of her father, with the strong chin, her blue eyes, and uptight demeanor. What her immediate family members would say is that they butted heads solely because they resembled each other in personality.

Vesta Gale Spellman, her mother, is the silent submissive type. She hung on to every word of her husband with little to no opinion on her own. Still, she was pretty to look at with her fair strawberry blonde hair and her hazel eyes. She serves the family dinner and then pushes in the youngest Spellman’s seat with a light brow raised.

“Sit up, Hildegarde, dear.”, she chided the youngest quietly.

Hilda. Sweet little innocent Hilda. Next year, Zelda’s little sister would attend the Academy of the Unseen Arts. Tomorrow night was her Dark Baptism. Zelda hid her enthusiasm that finally her little sister would be signing her name away to the Dark Lord’s book. She knew deep down her sister had her doubts. Every night, whenever Zelda was home away from school, she would taunt her sister, giving her fiendish nightmares so that should would finally give in and stop being afraid of that important night. She couldn’t squander the Spellman name. Zelda, in fact, was doing her a favor. If Hilda didn’t participate, she would find herself in one of Father’s fits of rage. Hilda knew going to the Academy meant she would never escape the terrorism of her older sister.

Zelda could not wait to harrow her little sister. She counted on it.

However, Edward had one more year in the Academy. Hilda would be safe in her first year. It made Zelda boil with anger that Edward always defended Hilda. Hilda’s growing of a backbone would simply be a necessity, a lesson granted by a loving older sister.

The children waited until their father joined the table so that they all may join in prayer to the Dark lord. Wilbur cleared his throat and set a napkin neatly on his lap.

“Good evening, children. Welcome back home, Zelda and Edward. Hildegarde, you will start next year. Your Dark Baptism starts tomorrow at midnight. Are you ready to take in the Dark Lord?”

Everyone turned their attention over to the youngest. Hilda’s eyes hardly met her father’s. She nearly trembled in his presence, always having feared him. She fixes a small strand of her blonde hair before answering sheepishly.

“Yes, Father.”

Wilbur accepts that response and nods. “Very well. Now, let us join in prayer. Dark Lord, may you continue to guide this family in your beautiful darkness and present even more wisdom into our lives so that we may continue to grow our line with the Spellman wit. We will present our last child to your grace tomorrow at the blood moon. We thank you for providing our sustenance, our power, and the shelter that covers our heads. Praise Satan.”

They all murmur ‘Praise Satan’ after him. In synchronicity, they pick up their forks to eat, Hilda being the only one who doesn’t dig right in and picks around to eat the vegetables, of course.

Zelda ponders on her father’s prayer. Not everyone had always had a roof over their heads. She thought about Rowena. She came so far and must have gone through so much to finally have a roof, to have warm food to eat, water to drink. It must have been because her name had not been written in the Book. Perhaps, Father Mephisto would organize a Dark Baptism for Rowena as well. As if the coven would accept her. Zelda pushed her thoughts away and shook her head. That girl thought she was so great with her...not-so-interesting powers. Still, a part of her begged to know more, begged to see more...longed to learn from this ‘natural’ witch.

“Father...”, Zelda piped up after a long uncomfortable silence. “What is a natural witch?”

Wilbur set his fork down and stared at his plate. His brows rose in surprise, blue eyes searching for his wife’s hazel ones. Vesta shared the same expression, but did not say a word as usual.

“Where have you heard of this? Have they been teaching of things outside of the Dark Lord’s realm?”, he interrogated.

Everything felt like an interrogation around Wilbur. He did not know how to make a room lively. His demeanor matched the darkness of the family home. Only Edward and Hilda’s rare smiles could lighten up a room when their father was away.

“What do you mean outside of the Dark Lord’s realm?”, Zelda asked eyes filled with piqued curiosity.

Edward wiped his lips with his napkin, head tilting in the same growing curiosity his sister had. Hilda chewed on a piece of squash, round green eyes filled with intrigue. Both of her siblings waited for their all-knowing father’s response.

Wilbur did not expect that question, but he knew better than to underestimate his daughter’s irritating yet brilliant mind.

“There are witches who have their source elsewhere and there are those who have powers unexplained. Powers bestowed to them by birth.”, Wilbur explained. “Those born with this are misguided, not having the Dark Lord in their lives. It is all heresy. That is why the Dark Lord does not protect them unless they give themselves over.”

Zelda furrows her brows, her calculating mind stewing. “If they are born with such abilities, where do they get it from?”, she pressed on, teeth ripping the mortal flesh from her fork.

Vesta shakes her head at Zelda’s curiosities. She taught Zelda better than to keep questioning what is outside of the Dark Lord’s reach. She hoped it wouldn’t give her these ideas.

“Why are you asking such horrendous questions? Do we need to speak to your Professors?”, Wilbur’s voice grew an octave.

Vesta places a hand on her husband’s shoulder as if to sate on an upcoming battle-the usual occurrence at the Spellman table between father and daughter. She didn’t want to have to deal with both disastrous tempers. Wilbur visibly calmed, shoulders slowly releasing their tension.

“My dear, remember what the physician said about your hypertension.”, Vesta murmured.

Wilbur sniffed and rolled his eyes. “Your daughter is asking the inquiries of a heretic.”

Zelda shut her eyes counting to ten before daring to defend herself. She hated that her father took things to the extreme.

“I am asking because the Academy took in this new witch. She has not signed her name in the Book. She was brought in from the storm and had nowhere to go.”, Zelda began to explain.

Wilbur scoffed beginning his retort, “Since when do we unquestionably take in a witch? How do we know she isn’t a spy?”

Edward cleared his throat before he spoke up on behalf of his sister. “Father Mephisto grant it so.”, he responded calmly. “He foresees the Dark Lord bringing her to us so that we may perhaps guide her on her way.”

Oh yes, perhaps if Zelda dissuaded the intruder from the Dark Lord, then she wouldn’t further invade their lives.

Wilbur lowered his gaze to the table. “If...”, he takes a sharp inhale. “Father Mephisto bade it so, then he is correct. The Dark Lord speaks to him. Perhaps, the Dark Lord should usher the child onto the Path of Night.”

Zelda stifled a scoff and played with her food this time. She still yearned to know more. “As I was saying, the girl had been taken in. In class yesterday, we discovered...something strange about her. She revealed glowing eyes as she froze an object.” Her blue eyes moved over to her father who paled in shock. “By your countenance, something tells me you know exactly what this is.”

Hilda’s eyes widened as she glanced between her sister and her father. “Her eyes glowed and froze something?”, she spoke up, voice pitched slightly higher.

Wilbur balled his fists and maintained his composure. “Yes, I have heard of this. What you witnessed was indeed that of a...natural witch.”, the last part subdued.

Zelda’s eyebrows quirked, brain marveling at the thought something more to their dark path existed-something she could use against the girl. “And where does a natural witch get their powers?”

Wilbur actually appeared stumped. “Natural witches are rare, Zelda.” He sat up straight before he continued. “In fact, not one of us know where they get it from. Most have died in the time of the Greendale Thirteen. Apparently, they weren’t wise enough to hide themselves in the shadows, thinking they could win over the mortals with their...mystique.”

He sounded almost rigid with his explanation as if he did not agree with the ways of a natural witch. Zelda took note of this.

“But perhaps if the Dark Lord commands it, we must welcome the new witch. He presents us with a test. If we change the ways of this young witch, then we may have more power on our side to the Path of Night. We mustn’t disobey the Dark Lord’s wishes, can we?”

Zelda sets her jaw as she holds contact with her father, the room being still and tense. She slowly nods in agreement with her father.

“Of course, Father. We shan’t.”, she replies with a small grin and fingers crossed behind her back.

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To be continued... ;)

#caos #spn #fanfic #zowena #zelda spellman #rowena macleod #spn rowena #romance #horror #Zelda #Rowena #witches #femslash

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thecreaturecrossroads · 5 years

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Candice and Robin

Name: Candice GrimWalker (Candy)

Race/Species: Native American+ French+Russian/ Loup Garou and Skinwalker

Nationality/HomeCountry: ??/ Monster Country

Voice Claim: If Sam Elliot had a Sister...

Height: 5'6

Gender: Female

Age: 38-40

Hair color: Black with grey streaks

Eye color: Yellow-green

Likes: Motorcycles, steak, donuts, apples, Her son Robin, her job. Fixing things, Running in her werewolf form. Grilling. Sports. Bell peppers.

Dislikes: Liars, Criminals, HER EX-HUSBAND. Pranks. Dog Jokes. Short Jokes and silver.

Personality: Candice is rough and tumble and in your face. Gruff and less likely to be in a crowd. Quiet and very much a protective single Mom. But she’s also a kind person. She’s tough but fair, and honest in her dealings with other people. She’s all about quiet and effective service for others when things need doing. She’s the first to arrive to help, and the last to leave just to make sure the work is all done. And the first to call out any wrongdoing among her fellow officers if she sees any.

Her son is her whole world and she works very hard to make sure he’s okay.

Back Story: Candice’s mother died when she was young. Her father was not a very affectionate person but he did love his daughter. In his own way. Candice was raised mostly by her grandfather. A gentle old man who liked to fix and tinker with cars and motorcycles. Which is where she got her love for motorcycles. Her first one actually was one he gave to her. Candice poured her heart into her schooling because it got her praise from her mostly absent father and made her Grampa proud. She loved sports and running and always watched out for the little guys in school. Any bully that came at someone would find themselves with a bloody nose.

So it was only natural she went into law enforcement. She was good at her job and eventually took a job with the FBI. Working on high stakes cases. Her last one dealing with Jazz and her kidnapping and hostage case. She met her now Ex Husband, Terry, sometime during those years. He was not a very good man but he was charismatic and handsome and a Werewolf himself. They were married for 3 years before Robin was born. And when Robin a year she found out her Ex was cheating on her. With 3 other women. She decided she’d had enough of his Bull S..t and served him with divorce papers. It was a very bitter and long fight which ended her career with the FBI. She has full custody of Robin but Terry still has visitation rights. Which he usually ignores unless he wants something from either of them. He’s stolen money from both of them on several occasions. So her feelings for the man she once loved are very bitter.

It was after the divorce that Candy and her Father really seemed to connect as family and he helped her raise his grandson until he died of cancer when Binny was 6. She loves her son very very much and works really hard to provide for him, and to be there for him.

Skills: She can track scents better than a bloodhound, keep up with most cars on a freeway, and can jump about two stories high. She can see in the dark and can phase into her werewolf form at will. Only on super or blood moons is she ever not in control of herself in this form. She generally can do most repairs and fixes around the house and can fix a car or motorcycle with ease.

Position/Rank/Job: Mom, Cop. Former FBI Agent. ((In Wild West AU she’s a Ranger.))

Quotes: "I’d be much obliged if ya didn’t do that.” “Binny, time fer school.’

Theme Song: Little Lion Man by Mumford ‘N Sons.

((Wild West AU, but still pretty accurate.))

Name: Robin (Binnie) GrimWalker

Age: 10

Gender: Male

Hair Color: Black

Eyecolor: Yellow

Likes: Space, swimming, chicken. pizza, reading, and all around being a kid. Broccoli and snickerdoodle cookies. Video games and dinosaurs.

Dislikes: Tomatoes, his Dad. Thunder. Squirrels.

Personality: Binnie is a bright kid who loves swimming and his mom. He sees how hard she works and tries his best to help her out as much as possible. He’s sweet and friendly and wants to be big and strong like his Grampa. He doesn’t like Math but does like history.

His favorite thing is when his mom takes a small vacation and they go camping in the woods and get to wolf out and run around for a day or two.

#Candice #Candy #Werewolf mom #Robin #About Candy #under the cut because it's long

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wannawritefast · 6 years

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The Crown of Brooklyn

A/N: Hey! I have recently become obsessed with the mobster!AU. And I haven’t written for our beloved Cap in a while. So I did a thing. I hope you like my thing. I certainly like this thing. I’m tagging @caplansteverogers cuz I love her and she inspired me to write this! Feedback is appreciated and, once again, requests are OPEN. xoxo, Echo

Warnings: Death (including death of a single mother of a young girl), blood, violence, alcohol use, mentions of sexual harassment and rape, attempted roofie

You grew up amongst crime. Your father was involved in a mob in Brooklyn and your mother worked as a spy for them. Your parents would have been more surprised if you didn’t enter into the life of crime in Brooklyn than if you had.

Unfortunately, they died when you were in your teens but it came with the territory and you easily made peace with the fact that they had died doing what they chose to do. And you made easier peace with the fact that you wanted in.

Somehow you infiltrated the mob that had taken out your parents and investigated their deaths. But rather than take out the boss you became family of sorts to him.

He never had children and always wanted kids of his own (something about scaring any possible wives away with revealing his job). He held you close as he got old. He doted on you as if you were his own daughter and you were the little princess of the mob. When he passed away he passed his job to you: his only child and the young queen of one of the most powerful mobs in Brooklyn.

As you rose to power you evolved the mob into something different, something unprecedented; you focused your mob on the women. You cleaned out the plague of oppression in strip clubs still keeping them standing but actually taking care of your workers and recutting their pay to be fair. The strippers enjoyed their jobs but not the harassment that came with it.

You swapped out your heist squad with inconspicuous girls. Overall you found that they just did the jobs better.

You didn’t kill the men or condemn any of your girls that wanted to pursue relationships. But any men that continued to treat you or your girls like garbage after fair warning to change their ways were taken out immediately.

Your numbers grew quickly. Women on the streets of Brooklyn were terrific allies. You became a guardian angel of sorts to the women that had been taken advantage of, harassed, and violated. Even though Brooklyn was high in crime, the numbers for rape, sexual harassment, and domestic abuse went down and the perpetrators were dealt with seemingly overnight. Even when you left Brooklyn to travel, your destination was cleansed of their sexual assault perpetrators. Your reputation traveled around the world as much as you did and you became influential.

The archetype that women were catty and two-faced was only true in movies as far as your experience was concerned. You took care of your girls and they helped you in many more ways than you could have possibly imagined. Who knew girl positivity and togetherness could be so powerful?

Your team was built of the most boss women you had ever possibly met. As it turned out you had assembled the best weapons engineers, self defense trainers, and hackers the city had seen and it was all underneath everyone’s noses because you were girls. And they were your girls. The mutual dependency made everyone close and your sisterhood type of bond rivaled that of sororities. Let’s just say Elle Woods would be proud.

Under the moniker of Juno, the queen of the Roman gods, you made it a point to learn hand-to-hand combat (anything with a blade became your new favorite) and trained those in your care. Soon enough, grown men cried in fear of the women they so commonly threw aside in their pursuits of power. Bitches had never been so feared in all of Brooklyn.

The Bitches specialized in diamonds. Your black market sales made incredible amounts of money and you made sure that your girls were paid before you were. Your new weapons became something that the other gangs sought after and, in exchange for providing arms, they offered protection and backup when jobs needed to get done.

The gangs of the world soon had a soft spot for The Bitches and the scariest mob bosses took you under their wings. You joined them for family dinners and to much of them you were like an adoptive daughter or sister. They understood that you didn't get involved in bad blood feuds between the other gangs but saw you as family nonetheless. Enemies were powerful but nothing beats the power of friends. Naturally it came as no surprise when your gang became the most successful in all of Brooklyn.

Well… Steve Rogers and his goons wouldn’t agree with that. But who gives a fuck about him?

The two of you hated each other. Although you never dared attack the other, it was abundantly clear that you were oil and water. You didn’t mix. Something about power-crazed mob leaders that had equally large egos and self-assurance in their abilities. You never interacted with him and you liked it that way.

Your assistant pinged your BlueTooth earpiece in the middle of a meeting. “Juno, we have a situation.”

With your codename ringing in your ear (in case your lines were tapped), you raised your manicured finger to the businessmen in the room, demanding a moment. “Can it wait?”

She took a deep breath. “Not really…”

“Why?” You asked suspiciously.

“It’s Rogers…”

“Fuck him,” you said, with no hesitation and returned to speaking to your audience again.

“He’s here.”

You paused. That made you stop in your tracks. Your skin prickled and blood boiled at the mere sound of his name. “He’s here? Why the fuck is he here?” You spat. The people around the table all jumped.

“It’s one of our girls.”

Oh hell to the no… Without a second thought you slammed the projector remote into the table and shattered it. A part of the glass table rained down with it as you stalked for the door.

“Meeting dismissed,” you growled as you threw open the door and it banged against the wall. The hinges snapped off the threshold. “I have a dead motherfucker to deal with.”

You smoothed your white jacket and pencil skirt and cracked your neck as you unholstered your vintage pistol.

Your assistant met you down the hallway. Victoria was your temper control, thank god for that.

Seeing your warpath, she immediately slowed you. “It wasn’t him or any of his men.”

It sated you a little bit but you were still fuming. He knew better than to just show up uninvited, unannounced. What kind of bullshit was this? “Then who’s responsible?”

“I didn’t tell you who was taken out…”

“Doesn’t matter. Whoever did it is going to pay with their life.” With that, you pushed past her and into the room where Rogers and his boys presumably were. You couldn’t believe that he thought he could just waltz in here on your turf as if he owned the place. You shoved the door open and were met with four men all looking at you, two out of the three startled.

“Well, hello to you too,” James prompted. Your eyes immediately landed on Steve, the bastard. He only blinked casually at your storming.

“Shut it, Barnes!” You snarled. “Start talking Rogers. Why the fuck are you here?”

Your rival mob boss stared you down cooly. Two alpha personalities in one room created a volatile environment. Especially with Steve motherfucking Rogers. “Cursing isn’t becoming of a lady,” he mocked.

“Well, it's a good thing that I’m not a lady, Rogers. I’m your worst nightmare.” You got in his face, the white of your suit contrasting the volatility of your temper.

“I’m the King. I’m your worst nightmare.” He got in your face right back and stared you down right back with his light blue eyes that contrasted his pitch black suit.

“Yeah, you’re both nightmares. Get a room some other time,” your jaw dropped as your head snapped to one of his cronies… Sam. “Meanwhile we have a real problem.”

You bristled a bit and you weren’t sure if the wave of heat that washed over you was embarrassment or anger but you brushed it aside. “Please! Steve wishes he could.” You glanced at the boss standing next to you. He narrowed his eyes at you. “That’s not important right now though.” Taking a deep breath, you prepared yourself for the damage and nodded at Victoria to fill you in.

“There were two bodies discovered at 3 AM this morning at our docks. One of them was a Rogers cronie… a man known as Phillip.” Steve gulped beside you as Victoria continued. “The second was one of our own… Cleo.”

Your heart dropped at the announcement but you took a deep breath. “What were they fighting over?”

Victoria shook her head. “They weren’t fighting.” You cocked an eyebrow. “They were sniped. In fact, our intel tells us that the cron- uh- Phillip was planning on proposing later that evening… to Cleo.”

You needed to sit down. Cleo had disclosed to you that she was dating someone new. Someone who actually loved her… and her daughter. Her daughter… She didn’t tell you he was a Rogers goon. You felt sick to your stomach.

“Her daughter is with a social worker. I sent Florence over there already to get her situated in the meantime and I… um… I have custody papers when you’re ready to look over them and-”

You cut her off with a motion of your hand. That was a matter you would take care of later. “Any word from our private investigator?”

“Actually,” Sam interjected, “we sent in our P.I. as well… And there’s reason to believe that there’s a new mob in Brooklyn and they want your titles.”

“‘Titles?’ What do you mean ‘titles?’” You interrupted Sam.

“We mean they want you and Steve…” He drew a line with his finger across his neck.

“We don’t… We aren’t working together. Does this new gang have any brains whatsoever? Do they know that we’re not allied?”

“Yeah.” James spoke this time. “They just don’t care. And they’re getting bolder.”

Steve crossed his arms and spoke. “They took out one of our artifact ships last week. It was leaving our harbor on the way to pick some up and they exploded it. 150 meters from the docks. It was a power play.”

You took a deep breath. “What does this mean for us?” You asked. “Why do I care? For all I know this is a ploy by you to take me out.”

“Y/n,” he addressed you, softer than usual. Steve always called you by Juno when he did talk to you. This was serious. “There were two bullets… in each.”

You gulped. One would have been a coincidence. Two… was not an accident. Especially if Phillip was sniped. “You’re sure it's the new gang?”

“They signed off on the deaths. They took credit for it,” Sam interjected.

“I wouldn’t be asking for help unless there was a real threat here…” Steve turned to you, his face dead serious. “In fact, you’d probably be the last person I went to in conflict. They want my crown and power and will do anything to get it. Including take down threats, like you and me. I will not let them tread on innocent bystanders and pull civilians into the crossfire.”

His eyes held a certain plea. You hadn’t seen any expression close to this one cross his features. Ever. Although you would rather be arrested than help Steve under normal circumstances, this was not normal. And deep down you knew that you needed his help just as much as he needed yours, if the speculations about the new gang were to be believed. No matter how much either of you would want to deny that you needed help at all.

“Fine,” you agreed, “I’ll help.” A smirk pulled on the corner of Steve’s mouth. You pulled the whiskey in the glass vial off the alcohol shelf in the room and, after taking a swig, you poured it into five glasses. You maintained eye contact as you offered a glass to the mob boss standing in front of you.

“If your men or their families don’t feel safe, I can set them up a space. Just say the word.” Everyone in the room now had their glass. Victoria merely held hers respectfully but didn’t drink. She was never any fun. But Steve downed it in one go and returned the glass to you to be refilled. “It’s nothing Juno can’t do. But there’s something you should know, Steve.”

You refilled it generously. “I wear the crown here. Not you…”

“I hope you know, Steve, that this doesn’t mean I trust you.” You were seated in the booth of one of Steve’s restaurants: a swanky joint with invite access only. Tonight it was empty except for you, Steve, and the “up and coming” mob boss who was running late.

You smoothed your long red dress and subconsciously ran your fingers over your garter knife holster, just in case. Tapping your painted fingernails on the white-clothed table you took a sip of the red wine offered to you. The diamond necklace perched on your collar bones was a comforting weight but still did little to calm the small bout of anxiety in your system.

“I know it doesn’t. I still don’t trust you either.” Steve unbuttoned and rolled the botSteves of his shirt sleeves. He adjusted his red handkerchief. The two of you truly hadn’t intended on matching. It just happened. “God, he was supposed to be here fifteen minutes ago…”

“Steve,” you started. He turned toward you and for a moment you realized how nice he looked. Only for a moment. “If I die tonight, the hit is going on your head.”

“You’re not going to die,” Steve grabbed his whiskey and took a sip as he reclined back and crossed an ankle over his knee. “It’ll be fine.”

You scoffed as you pulled your pocket mirror out of your clutch, which conveniently had bullets in it, and were reminded of the 1930’s style mini-pistol securely lodged in the middle of your chest. With the mirror flicked open you dabbed at your lipstick delicately with your finger.

“You look good. I have no idea what you’re fussing over.” Steve commented as he lightly scratched his nose. Was that a compliment? Your eyes shot to him in shock.

“Did Steve Rogers, the second best mob boss in Brooklyn, just compliment me?” You hovered a hand over your red lips in exaggerated surprise.

He rolled his eyes at you and was about to respond when the door to the dining room was thrown open. Steve and yourself stared at the swaggering young man who strode to your table.

“Sorry I’m late,” he breathed, but there was no apology in his tone whatsoever. “Traffic.” He snapped his fingers at one of the waiters and ordered vodka. The young man briefly sized you up by running his eyes unabashedly up and down your frame before turning to face Steve. What a pig… “So what seems to be the issue? I was invited here by the esteemed Steven Rogers with no explanation. I’m not complaining, by any means. But I do think you called me here for a reason,” his eyes landed on you again. “The eye candy is incredible by the way. How much is she?” He leaned forward with a smirk. Your jaw dropped in disbelief. Who did he think he was?

“She’s not for sale, asshole,” Steve asserted. He had his eyes narrowed at the little shit. The blood roared in your ears as the man’s vodka was set on the table. Your temper was no longer amiable. There was blood in the water now and you and Steve were honing in on your prey like you had a thousand times before.

You patted one of Steve’s clenched fists that was resting on the table. “Don’t worry, Steve. I’ve got this…” Your fingers wrapped around your wine glass and brought it to your matching lips. “Darling, you wish you could afford me.”

The man chuckled darkly as he ran a hand through his hair. “Ah, I see. No, don’t worry. I can respect an arrangement. Hey, sweetheart, tell your-”

“I’m not a messenger,” you sipped your wine. “And Steve and I have no arrangement. But I’ll tell you what can be arranged: a bounty on your head… or a hit. Your choice really.”

The man leaned forward threateningly. “I’m sorry but are you in any position to be making threats, whore?”

You blinked slowly and ever so slightly pulled down the top left side of your dress to reveal a tattoo of a minimalist crown: your unmistakable emblem of power. His reaction went from anger to lust to nervousness in mere seconds. The man gulped harshly as he downed his vodka and strained to keep his eyes challenging. You pulled the fabric back up and tapped Steve’s hand again. “I’ll let you cut back in, Steve.”

It was your turn to lean back once Steve took the reins. As he leaned forward you saw the amused sideways smile he had directed at you before it turned bloodthirsty. Something about watching it happen caused you to stir a little.

“You should really think about who you threaten before you do it. But you won’t have to worry about that anymore.” Steve poured himself more whiskey.

“Why-why is that?” The man stammered as his hands found his lap. This guy thought we wouldn’t retaliate…

“Because you’re going to shut down your sorry charade, pack your things, and leave Brooklyn.” Steve stared the man down. “And never come back.”

A waiter set down a tiramisu in front of you, Steve, and this sad excuse for a gang boss looking like he was going to wet himself.

You decided to speak up again. You stuck your fork in the rich slab of custard, coffee, and pastry. “Did you think you could take out my best programmer, yank her daughter away from her only stability in life, and not deal with the wrath of her aunties, one of which is Juno, the Mob Queen of Brooklyn?”

“I-I have a-uh-a sniper.” The man stuttered. He was grabbing for straws.

“I’m sorry,” Steve piped up. He stretched his arm closest to you out and laid it on the rim of the booth. “But are you in any position to be making threats, you son of a bitch?”

You chuckled at Steve’s response. “You’ve got two options: my way or Steve’s. Which one would you prefer?” You swirled the dark liquid in its glass.

“The latter.”

You nodded in agreement. “I thought so.”

The scoop of tiramisu on your fork tasted delicious. You watched the man in front of you wear regret on his face. This man was not cut out for the mob life. He wore his emotions too outwardly. You were doing him a favor really.

“Did you honestly think that you could threaten the two most powerful people in Brooklyn and get away with it?” Steve asked as he began eating the dessert in front of him.

The man only stared at his dessert contemplatively. You went back to your clutch to check your phone. But before the screen could even turn on, there was a clatter at the table in front of you.

You, startled by the sudden commotion, looked back up. The man’s hand was hovering over your wine glass with a tiny vial clutched in his fingers. A roofie bottle. Steve had one hand wrapped around the man’s wrist and the other had a gun pressed against the man’s temple. Steve was staring the man down, a deadly look in his blue eyes.

You couldn’t stop yourself from shaking with rage. In one swift motion you pulled your pistol out of your dress and stood up, knocking the table over. It toppled to the side noisily and the sound of utensils, plates, and glasses hitting the tile floor echoed through the empty room.

You pointed the gun at his forehead and a humorless laugh escaped your lungs. “You motherfucker… Looks like we’re doing this my way. Any last words?”

The man looked at you like he was a man with nothing to lose: the most dangerous look in the world. “You’re a bitch,” he spat. Quicker than a blink he drew a knife from his jacket and stabbed it into your outer thigh.

You screamed in pain and your leg began to give out for a few seconds. You supported yourself before nodding in agreement. “Yeah, I am.” And with those words you fired your gun.

The man slumped lifelessly in the booth and rolled to the side onto the floor. You dropped your pistol to the booth and fell back into the seat. You stared at the knife protruding from your leg with a wince.

Steve stepped over the legs of the fallen table and got to the other side of you. Your head was now thrown back against the rim of the booth, trying to manage the sharp pain running up and down your right leg. Maybe if you didn’t look at it it wouldn’t hurt as bad.

“Are you ok? Can you walk?” His voice sounded. Your eyes were clenched shut in pain.

“I have a knife in my leg, Steve… What do you think?” You brought your neck back up. There was a knife in your leg. The only thought going through your head is that it would be a good idea if the knife was removed. You reached your hand to grab the handle. But Steve’s hand grabbed yours to stop it.

“You’re not thinking right. Don’t touch the knife or you’ll lose more blood,” You nodded in agreement. That made more sense you supposed. He yelled for his guard to call one of his medical cars. His guard raced off noting the urgency of the situation. “You need to lie down. Come on. Let’s get you to the floor.”

You nodded through the nausea and lightheadedness that was seizing you and helped Steve help you to the black tile floor. Keeping your leg as still as possible, you used the rest of your body to slide off the booth.

“It’s gonna be a few minutes,” Steve remarked softly. You were laying on the ground now and your vision was starting to sparkle a little bit. “Let me get you more comfortable.”

Steve was remaining calm as he took off his jacket and threw it over your torso. He began unbuttoning his dress shirt leaving him in a wife beater. His dress shirt was quickly rolled up and stuck underneath your head. You closed your eyes and took deep breaths, not daring to look at your thigh.

“Steve?” You inquired. You could feel yourself slipping out of consciousness.

“Yeah?”

“Can you take off my heels please?”

“Yeah…” You felt the shoes get pulled off your feet but any pleasure that it may have provided was overpowered by the agonizing pain in your leg.

“Steve. I think I’m going to pass out.” You warned. Your hand latched on Steve’s. His opened to accommodate yours. It felt nice.

“You’ve gotta stay awake or… I’ll… I’ll take your crown.” He offered. His tone wasn’t serious but you appreciated the effort.

“If I wasn’t able to wear the crown,” you opened your eyes to look at him. His blue eyes looked into yours with something that looked strange… Worry, maybe? That couldn’t be right. Your mind was playing tricks on you. “I’d be more than happy for you to wear it.”

You felt your eyes roll to the back of your head and you blacked out.

You woke up in an unfamiliar room. It was a bedroom with typical furnishings but it had hospital equipment next to you instead of a nightstand. You stared up at the canopy draping over the top of the bed for a few seconds.

The silkiness of the sheets felt smooth against your skin. Remembering what happened before you went unconscious, you gingerly hovered your hand over your leg from above the covers.

“And Juno lives,” a voice sounded from the doorway. Footsteps moved along the carpeted floor and they stopped at your bedside. You turned your head and saw Steve standing with his hands in his pockets.

You groaned groggily. “Are my girls ok?”

Steve smiled at your question. It wasn’t a vicious smile but a kind one. One you hadn’t seen him wear before. Your heart didn’t skip a beat… did it? “You got stabbed with a knife in the thigh, passed out, had to get stitches (which I ever so graciously covered for you) and you’re asking if someone else is ok?”

You shrugged… it’s all you had the energy for. “Well, are they?”

He chuckled and shook his head at you. Maybe the nurse needed to look at your cardiac vitals too… “They’re as good as when you left them. You need to rest.”

“I can’t rest. I have to-,” you attempted to sit yourself up. Steve only put his hand out to stop your shoulder when it reached his palm. It felt like he had pushed you full force back into the mattress. “I have to lie down… For a while.”

“Is there anything you need that I can bring you?” He crossed his arms over his chest as he peered down at you.

“My pistol, my phone, and three shots of tequila.” You listed earnestly. “Please.”

“I can get you one of the those,” he responded before leaving the room.

You whispered to yourself. “Please be the tequila…” He sauntered back in with your phone and you reached for it longingly. You figured you would just have to settle for next best.

It touched your fingers and you unlocked it immediately to dial Victoria. But before you could touch ‘call’ Victoria herself appeared in the doorway.

“Oh thank God you’re alright!” She rushed into the room and hugged you tight. “I thought you had been taken out when Steve called and said you’d been stabbed.” He called them personally?

“Well, unfortunately for Steve, this bitch is still alive and kicking.” You winked at Victoria playfully and turned your gaze to Steve briefly. “Sorry, darling, you can’t get rid of me that easily,” you joked.

“Damn,” he cursed exaggeratedly. His eyes glistened humorously. “I can not believe you foiled my elaborate plan.”

You shifted the tone of the conversation and forced yourself to sit up, a little stronger than when you had woken up. “I suppose I’ve overstayed my welcome.” You yanked the blankets off your torso and shifted to move off of the bed.

You finally saw your leg since you had been ever so rudely stabbed in the leg. There were bandages wrapped from the base of your hip to the top of your knee. Your thigh was officially sans knife. The small use of your muscles sent a hot shockwave of pain through your leg and up to your lower back. Your expression soured instantaneously as you took deep breaths and steeled yourself to stand. Nausea welled up and punched you in the gut but you weren’t going to let a tummy ache stop you.

Victoria and Steve alike rushed forward to force you back to laying down. “What are you doing,” Victoria scolded, “Your leg isn’t even close to being healed.”

“You’re going to hurt yourself. Lie down, Y/n.” Steve ordered you. You knew he was probably right but the dominant part of your ego didn’t take orders from anyone, especially Steve. Defiantly and weakly, albeit, you pushed him to the side with the back of your hand and stood to your feet.

Or at least tried to. Steve had been right. The moment your injured leg was standing was the moment your knee buckled and you started to fall to the floor.

Your hands scrambled for the closest thing to hold onto to stop the impact. Your fingers wrapped around the IV stand but it wasn’t enough. Fortunately for you, Steve had better reflexes and caught you as you continued to fall. He swiftly grabbed your torso and secured you from falling further. With his calloused hands on your waist and your hands on his muscled biceps you stepped backwards and sat back down.

“Why didn’t you listen to me?” He asked as he pulled away slowly, uncertain if you still required his assistance.

You rolled your eyes at him. “Does this face look like it follows orders?” He cocked a challenging eyebrow at you. “The answer is no, Steven. I don’t follow orders. Besides you don’t want me here. We’re rivals. Remember?”

“Yes, I do remember. But I do also remember you getting stabbed in the fucking thigh in front of me. In my restaurant. While carrying out a plan of my volition. I am responsible for you getting injured. You need to heal and you are going to stay here to do that.” Steve had his hands on his hips.

“I have my own doctors, Steve. I can heal at my headquarters. I have power here too.” You leaned forward with as much dignity as you could muster.

He clutched his forehead in frustration. If nothing else you were glad that you were still able to piss him off while minorly incapacitated. “This isn’t about power, Y/n. This is about you being hurt. And I don’t think Victoria’ll let you leave here until you’re healed if I ensured your safety. Which I do.”

Your head snapped to Victoria who looked conflicted. She visibly squirmed at the equally scrutinizing looks you and Steve were giving her. “He has a point, Juno. Us moving you would do more harm than good.” You could practically feel Steve’s infuriating and victorious smirk. “Joan and I can handle it. We can send you documents and you can sign them on your tablet and send them back to us.”

“Victoria…” You started. This was NOT happening.

“It’s better that you get a break any way. God knows you need it.” She fiddled with her nails. Then she began to move for the door. “Getrestandfeelbetterbye!”

“Victoria!” And she ran out of the room shutting the door behind her. You were gaping like a fish.

She just… She just left you.

Alone.

At your rival’s headquarters.

While you were at a physical disadvantage.

You slowly turned your head back to the man standing in front of you. “Told you,” he chided.

“There’s no need to gloat, asshole,” you glared at him. “I hate you,” you mumbled.

“No, you don’t. Not anymore. You’re just angry.” He took a deep breath. “What kind of entertainment do you like? TV, movies, card games…” Steve suggested.

“You know what would be great?” You clapped your hands together in faux enthusiasm. “If you located the nearest cliff and took a long walk right off of it!”

He winced apathetically. “Sorry, doll, no can do.”

“Don’t patronize me.” You moved to lie down and tried to use your muscles to pull your hurt leg back over onto the mattress. But they either didn’t want to comply or they clawed at your nerve endings violently.

Steve’s hand found the underside of your partially bandaged knee and lifted it gently onto the bed. You weren’t sure whether to thank him or snap at him. “I still don’t like you, Rogers,” you jabbed as you crossed your arms over your chest and stared at the shut door to the room that seemed to mock you. “But I do like Netflix.”

“Really? You tell me you hate me and expect me to give you something after that?”

“Yes.”

“No. That’s not how this works. I’ll help you get healed but if you’re going to be rude then I don’t think I should help you pass the time.”

“Are you seriously wagering with a cripple right now?” You asked incredulously.

“Yes.” God, you wanted to rip his pretty eyes out of their sockets!

“Fine,” you growled. With gritted teeth you apologized. “Thank you for treating me and…” Your voice trailed off into a murmur, “I’m sorry for being difficult.”

“What was that?” He asked obnoxiously with a hand to his ear. This asshole.

“I’m sorry for being difficult.” You enunciated venomously. You pressed your lips together and crossed your arms as you stared at the wall rather than him.

“Now… was that so hard?” Steve’s voice was maddeningly smooth and his blue eyes glittered tantalizingly.

“No. It wasn’t actually.” You spat.

“Good. Then you’ll have no problem doing it again in the inevitable future.” Your anger began to bubble like lava.

“Can I have my Netflix now?” He raised a brow. “Please.”

“Why yes you can!” He over enthusiastically responded. Steve produced a remote from his suit pocket and pressed a button. An LED TV began to slowly lower from a slot in the dark ceiling.

“You’re lucky I don’t have my pistol, jerkwad. I would’ve shot the ballsiness right off of you.”

“I bet,” he agreed amiably as pressed more buttons on the remote nonchalantly.

You huffed a deep breath. “Dammit, Steve. You’re supposed to respond to me with witty repartee. You’re not being any fun.”

“Mmhmm.” The screen was open on the Netflix main screen and he tossed you the remote. Steve dragged a lounge chair to the side of your bed and reclined in it. Suit and all. “What are we watching?” He prompted.

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. “What?”

“Did I stutter? I asked ‘what are we watching,’” He answered matter-of-factly.

“Why? Don’t you have your mob to run?” Your brows were furrowed.

“I’m the mob boss. I can do whatever the fuck I want. And I want to watch something.” Even though you couldn’t quite argue with his logic your jaw was dropped and you didn’t move. He huffed and snatched the remote out of your hand. “I’ll choose then.” He clicked on the arrows and settled on a crime tv show.

You were still staring at him. He was contentedly facing the screen. He turned to face you, his blue eyes looking into yours. A stray blonde curl fell out of his gelled do. It was endearing. “What are you looking at?”

You shook your head and faced the screen. “Nothing. Absolutely nothing…”

The two of you simultaneously inhaled and exhaled a deep breath.

Halfway between episode 3 and 4 and making jokes about the the criminals, you fell asleep. It was exhausting, what could you say… You had gotten stabbed not even 24 hours before.

Steve hadn’t noticed you had fallen asleep initially. He thought you were ignoring one of his comments. It wasn’t uncommon. When you hadn’t responded after a few repetitions, he opened his mouth to give a biting remark and expected you to respond in like fashion.

But when he looked over at you, head lolled against the pillows, hair askew, and mouth slightly ajar, something weird happened.

Steve smiled to himself.

Not because of how vulnerable you looked (maybe that was part of it) or even because there was a little bit of drool seeping onto the pillow but because one of the most vicious and vengeful and ruthless people he knew slept looking like an angel. There were bags under your eyes and there were spots of imperfections on your skin. He couldn’t tell if it was despite them or because of them but he thought you looked… dare he say… well, beautiful.

He looked away. It felt oddly intimate watching you sleep if only for a few seconds. A little bit of an invasion of privacy. Steve gently readjusted your awkwardly flayed arms and pulled the covers up to your shoulders, careful not to wake you. He stood silently from his chair and walked noiselessly to the door. As he closed it shut, Steve took one more peek at you.

You only scrunched your nose momentarily in your sleep. Deadly, he thought.

But in that moment, Steve knew that he was completely, irreversibly and undeniably fucked.

The following days and weeks were nice. Startlingly nice. Every morning Steve dropped off a coffee for you and checked on you, if only for a few minutes. And every night, after he was done with his work for the day, you fell asleep watching that horrid crime show on Netflix with Steve. Like clockwork.

For meals, he would help you limp down to the dining room when you were finally able to move out of bed rest. He would visit you on his breaks. It didn’t matter if you were engaging in conversation with him. Steve would still sit in the room while you were communicating with Joan and Victoria. It wasn’t invasive at all… It was nice just to have his presence in your room.

You weren’t sure when the two of you began helping the other problem solve but the two of you were certain that you should have brainstormed together earlier. Neither of you were willing to admit, however, that the fault was with your pride… What? Steve’s ego couldn’t even fit through the door sometimes.

But you guessed you could say, at the very least, that you were on friendly terms now…

“Joan,” you switched your phone from one ear to the other when Steve poked his head into the threshold and rapped on the wood with that signature smirk on his face. You smiled at him reflexively and waved him in. “No, I agree we’ve given him plenty of time to pay. You have my stamp of approval to send in the Valkyries….”

Steve meandered into the room and fell back into his recliner. Joan’s tinny voice sounded on the other end. “Will do…” The sound of a keyboard typing filled the silence for a few seconds. “Your order is in.”

“Great! Let me know how that goes. I want a mission report emailed over immediately after …Oh! Is Phoebe there?” You asked hopefully.

“One moment…” The sound of Joan calling Phoebe to the phone was faint but still exciting for you.

“Hi, Anthie Juno.” The voice of Cleo’s three-year-old came on the line. Your heart warmed instantaneously.

“Hi, darling! How was school today?” You asked enthusiastically.

“It was fun! I went on- I went on the swings!” Her little voice informed you excitedly.

“Oh my goodness! Did you go so high?”

“I did, Anthie Juno. I was like a bood!” She giggled as she finished her semi-mispronounced sentence and the sheer adorableness that you imagined was happening on the other side of the line made you hold your chest.

“I bet you were,” you were beaming through your words. “I miss you so so much, Bee.”

She giggled again, at her nickname this time. “I miss you too. When can, when can I see you?”

You glanced over at Steve. He was smiling in your direction and your heart jumped a little bit. There was no doubt he could hear Phoebe speaking. The little girl practically yelled in the speakers whenever she was on the phone.

“I don’t know, Bee…” You wanted to see her but you didn’t want to overstep your bounds with Steve. He had already been so helpful. You almost felt indebted to him.

Steve spoke up. “She can come tomorrow if she wants…” He sat up in his seat.

Your eyebrows shot up. You put your hand over the microphone. “Are you serious?”

He nodded nonchalantly. “Absolutely…”

Your spirits soared. “How does tomorrow sound?”

The squealing on the other side of the line was answer enough. “Ok! Ok…” You could practically hear the gears turning in her little brain. “I’ll- I’ll see you tomowow! I love you! Bye!” The moment before Phoebe hung up you heard the beginning of Joan calling to her.

You chuckled and shook your head as you put your phone down next to you. “I’ll have you know, Steve. She is very excited to come over tomorrow.”

The smile on his face matched yours and his eyes crinkled. “I certainly hope so. I’d miss you if I hadn’t seen you in that long.”

“Steven, no one could ever get tired of this face.” You framed your face with your hands comically.

He jokingly winced to himself as he stood from his spot. “I don’t know about that.” Steve offered his hand when he arrived at your bedside.

You dropped your jaw dramatically and swung your legs over the side of the bed and took his hands. Making sure that you were standing securely on your uninjured leg, you placed a light amount of pressure on your stabbed leg. You could only stand on the ball of your foot before it began to hurt.

He, almost instinctively, wrapped your arm over his suit-clad, muscled shoulders. You hobbled through the bedroom on your way to dinner with Steve supporting you at your side.

“You know…” You pressed your hand against the wall of the hallway to hold yourself up as you addressed Steve. “You’ve been so nice to me that I feel like you’re buttering me up for something.” You were only half joking.

“The King of Brooklyn? Butter you up?” You rolled your eyes at his self-proclamation. He looked at you from the corner of his eyes, slowing his pace to allow you to strengthen your muscle a little bit. “Now where would you get an idea like that?” Steve resupported you, this time with one hand on your waist and the other grasping your outstretched hand.

You just glanced at him from the corners of your eyes as you continued to limp to the dining room.

“I am not buttering you up, Y/n,” he corrected. “If I wanted something from you, I’d tell you. Honestly. Like how much your hair needs a brushing.”

Your jaw dropped as you scoffed at him. “Well, I don’t exactly have the materials to look presentable, Steven. I don’t need to spend much time like you do but I do need the proper instruments.”

It was part of your banter to roast each other.

“I can send someone to the store to pick up some stuff for you?” Steve suggested.

You smiled at him gratefully as you continued to limp along. “That’s alright… I can have Joan send some stuff over when she drops off Phoebe tomorrow.”

“You’re sure?” He asked.

You nodded assuredly. “I owe you big time, Rogers. Seriously, thank you.”

He only shook his head and smiled at the floor… bashfully? “You don’t need to thank me. I was being decent.”

“Steve, mobsters aren’t decent. I know a handful of bosses who, if I were their enemy, would have let me bleed out or took me out while I was down.” He looked up at you once again and you, in turn, looked straight ahead as you paced yourself down the hallway. “So, yes. I do owe you, Rogers. I owe you and then some. When you figure out how I can make it up to you, let me know and I’ll be there. Anytime.”

He smiled genuinely at you. “Anytime?”

“Anytime,” You confirmed without hesitation.

He chuckled to himself and your heart lifted a little bit. Just a little.

After a few moments of silence, Steve spoke up again. “I know how you can make it up to me.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he took a deep breath. “Dinner.”

“‘Dinner’?” You were confused. “Is that a code for something that I’m not aware of or-”

“It’s code for,” he lowered his voice, “I want to take you out to dinner after your leg is healed because I like you, Y/n.”

You halted in your tracks as your heart did a tap routine. He liked you? You had had your suspicions but there was no way you could have been absolutely certain until now.

“What if I said no?” You inquired. You weren’t serious. You definitely wanted to go on a date with him but you made it a point to see how a man would react to rejection before pursuing a relationship with him. Just because you really liked him didn’t mean he was exempt.

“I’d be disappointed but I’d respect your ‘no.’ You’re busy and you’d have your reasons, I’m sure.” He shrugged and aided you as you continued to limp to dinner.

“And if I said yes?” You prompted.

A goofy smile graced his features again. “Then I’d be excited and plan the best damn dinner you’ve ever had.”

“That’s quite the claim, Rogers.” You teased with raised eyebrows.

“You can see if it has any merit if you decide to go to dinner with me.” He smirked at you cheekily.

A sideways smile of your own moved your cheeks. “It seems like I’ll just have to.”

“It’s a date then.” He declared. You pretended not to see the kick in his step as the two of walked to the dining room. Steve supported you as you trekked to the dining room, his hands holding yours.

You supposed that’s how it was always meant to be: the two of you working hand in hand.

After all, you knew the value of a good relationship with others…

Especially one with your future husband.

#steve rogers x reader #steve x reader #captain america x reader #mobster!steve #mobster!au

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maizeofloverp · 6 years

Photo

Full name: Trent Martin

Age: 42

Birth date: April 23, 1976

Gender & pronouns: Cismale, he/him

Affiliation: Civilian

Occupation: Owner of Starlight Cinema

Faceclaim: Jensen Ackles

B i o g r a p h y »

Trent Martin likely would’ve been happier with fewer siblings. He can hardly remember a time when he didn’t have younger siblings, but at first there were just a couple and that wasn’t too bad. He still got to be special because he was the oldest, still got lots of attention and praise. By the time his sister was born, however, he was 12 and had had quite enough of all of this. His parents were tired and busy so it fell to Trent to help take care of the younger ones out of necessity. With so much going on in the Martin household, Trent felt like he got a little lost in the shuffle, looked at as the much needed extra helping hand instead of the oldest boy who was, at the heart of it, still a boy. A seed of resentment against his siblings built up in him because of that. He loved them, it was hard not to when he was around them so much, but he wished there were less of them so he could still enjoy being treated like a kid. Without really meaning or wanting to, as he became a teenager, he became a bit of an authority in the house since their parents were caught up in work. Trent stayed home and babysat instead of going out with his friends a lot (though his parents did recognize this and sometimes insisted he go out, trying to let him be as free as they could) and the resentment only deepened. When his siblings got competitive, Trent would often sort out the arguments or proclaim the winner. He was the strongest, at least for a while anyway, and that earned him some level of respect though he could be drawn into the horseplay. He developed a sort of dry, sarcastic humor because of that and spent a lot of time being concerned with his family and less time figuring out what he wanted to do with his life.

High school graduation came and went and Trent realised he had no real plans. He didn’t necessarily want to stay on at the garage, which there was no pressure to do, but his mom seemed vaguely disappointed that there was no plan and his dad kept trying to find things to engage him in. Trent drifted in Muddy for a few years, still helping with the younger ones and working part time at the garage, before he decided he needed to figure out just what the hell he wanted to do with his life so he left. Trent didn’t just go to Chicago, either. He went to New York because if there was a place to figure yourself out, surely that was it, at least that’s what the movies always seemed to say. One of the things he’d managed to have and keep an interest in was music and he’d had a guitar since he was young and thought he wasn’t half bad at it. Soon enough he’d joined a band and gotten a job as a bartender which went well for a couple of years. They were moderately successful and toured a little. As he got more involved in the music scene, Trent quit bartending and started producing, working at a recording studio. He still got to play his own gigs and make a little more money besides and overall, Trent was happy. At least he was doing what he wanted to do and while he missed his family, it was nice being on his own.

In his later twenties, when he’d worked his way up to assistant manager of the studio, he met and fell in love with Cassandra Beaumont. She worked at a tech company and seemed a bit severe and controlling but liked the fact that he was a musician who also had a steady job. Where he was goofy and sometimes irrational, she was steady and serious but had a more refined sense of humor. They seemed to balance each other out and had a lot of fun together so it didn’t surprise anyone when they got married. Trent was 29 and had only been married for a year when his daughter was born. All those instincts and strategies he’d used to take care of his siblings reawakened when he became a father and it was a role he took to eagerly. Trent wanted to give his daughter, Olivia, the best that he could which included not saddling her with a bunch of other siblings. Cassandra seemed content to just have the one child and, for a while, they were a happy family.

Trent still played when he could but more and more his time was taken up with parenting and moving up in the recording studio. He eventually became a co-owner which made things that much busier. Cassandra’s career, too, was flourishing as she climbed the corporate ladder and it seemed they saw each other less and less. Trent was determined to always make time for Olivia and given his somewhat more flexible hours (it was a modest recording studio) he became Olivia’s primary, and sometimes it felt like only, caregiver. He saw Cassandra less and less and started to feel like a single parent. It was hard to remember how much fun they used to have together and while he still loved her, his frustrations with her continued to grow. Soon enough, every time they saw each other they were arguing and it was hard for Trent to manage that, his job, and full time parenting. He started drinking more than he should, which became another point of contention, and the woman he’d thought he would grow old with started to become someone he couldn’t stand to be around.

Divorce proceedings were inevitable. Cassandra’s severe nature had only gotten worse, more ruthless, and she tried to lash out at him through their lawyers. It took two tense, horrible years to sort everything out, and Trent hit the bottle harder during those years, feeling like he needed the crutch to try and keep things together for Olivia. The one thing they didn’t actually fight over was custody since Cassandra didn’t even seem to want it, though she certainly tried to hit him everywhere else that would hurt and Trent fought back in kind. By the end of it all, Trent had Olivia and not much else and felt like he’d aged ten years. For a while, he tried to go back to business as usual, getting a new, smaller place and trying to go back to work. The drinking was a real problem though and he felt like a husk of himself. The city with all the crazy energy he’d once enjoyed was sapping the life out of him now. Trent decided he needed a change and a big one. There was one place he knew that was quieter, that only had one bar (so as to limit his temptation of the vice he was trying to get rid of), and where he still had some family; Muddy Waters. After having been gone for a long time except for some occasional, brief visits around the holidays, Trent, in an impulsive decision, decided to go home.

Back in Muddy for a handful of months, Trent used the money he got from his partner buying out his half of the recording studio to buy Starlight Cinema. It seemed fitting somehow, let him indulge in his love of old movies, and turned a decent profit. Thirteen-year-old Olivia was not impressed with the move from New York City to some backwater town in Illinois and Trent’s working on trying to get her to forgive him for it as well as get the rest of his life back on track.

P e r s o n a l i t y »

Trent feels like a failure. While he stands by his decision to come back to Muddy, knowing it’s better for him, it also feels like he’s returned with his tail between his legs and that’s a hard pill for him to swallow. His humor was always a bit dry and sarcastic but it’s turned more self-deprecating recently. While he still puts on a good show of being friendly and even charming, he feels like he’s taken an emotional beating and is still recovering from it. He’s not exactly an upbeat or incredibly positive person, in fact he’s a bit of a cynic, but he tries to mask that and put a somewhat better spin on things if only for Olivia’s sake. Trent can be impulsive and irrational, more sensitive than he at first appears, and even a little broody. On the flip side, he’s supportive and loyal, protective of those he cares about, and generally fairly dependable. His temper can flare up quickly but cools just as fast and he’s more than a little stubborn. Trent has trouble asking for help and unfairly blames himself for a lot of things. He does his absolute best to be a good father even if he’s a little at a loss sometimes now that Olivia’s a teenager. Struggling to pull himself out of a bad emotional place, he’s doing his best but, at this point, doesn’t feel like its good enough.

Played by Sam

#trent martin #prodigal son #civilian #taken #male

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sxveme-2 · 3 years

Text

Strawberry Pancakes // Bucky Barnes

MASTERLIST

SEQUEL TO BLUEBERRY PANCAKES

DESCRIPTION: Lily Osborne and Bucky Barnes were never blessed with an easy relationship. Whether it be emotional trauma, or Lily's parents trying to be evil scientists. But they somehow made it work, after coming together once again after the birth of Lily's nephew. They were smooth sailing for a while. He proposed, they got engaged, but have yet to marry. While also juggling raising a teenager together as Hunter reaches the age of 16 now. All the while struggling with adjusting to their new lives in Long Island, balancing careers. Meanwhile, Lily struggles with the new found fame of being the fiancé of The White Wolf; and handling the tabloids critiques on her life and gossip columns digging up any information they can on her. While trying to maintain a low profile; and handle her life as it is. And becoming parents. Lily for the second time, while Bucky, well, this is his first attempt at a biological child. All the while a new threat from their past rises up once again, blind siding the family. Bringing forward old hatchets that had been buried, and putting their relationship at risk once more.

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any original Marvel characters! All canon plots and canon characters belong to Marvel Comics and Marvel Studios. This is an original work. You may not publish it anywhere else

STATUS: Unedited

NOTES: Takes place after endgame. I have elected to ignore Tony's death and Steve's leaving. Did not happen. Quick Reminder! My works are only published here, AO3 and on Wattpad, thank you.

Chapter Seven: The One With Her New Neighbour

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 1637

Lily remembered the moment that she saw Scott alone with a woman at a party. Gen had sent her a picture from a party she attended, catching her best friends husband. Lily was home with seven-year-old Hunter, helping him with his homework and watching kid’s shows. The blonde remembered both her world crumbling around her and relief draping over her. As though she was glad that it was finally over.

Over the years, their relationship became more strained. They only ever spoke when it came to Hunter or when they were trading days. Lily mostly communicated with him through Mary, though. But now, it was through Priya.

Priya was kind enough. Lily and she weren’t friends, nor were they acquaintances. The only reason they spoke was to let Scott know anything about Hunter, talk about the PTA, or setting up when Scott can see Hunter for his birthday. Lily didn’t want communication with Scott or anyone in his life. She had her own family and her own life. She survived him. Lily came out on the other side of their marriage and prospered. She survived him.

And now he was standing at her door, a crooked smile on his face and fiance on his arm. Lily could barely process the fact that her ex-husband dared to show his face on her property. If the blonde wasn’t as docile as she was, she was sure that she would have thrown a shoe. But she didn’t.

“Whose there, doll?” Bucky asked as he walked up behind Lily, placing a hand on her waist before looking out the door, “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Is that Bucky Barnes?” Priya gasped, placing her hand over her mouth, “Baby, you didn’t tell me your ex was related to him!”

“Engaged to,” Bucky snapped, taking a few steps forward, “Now you have thirty seconds to explain why the hell you’re on my porch.”

Lily pursed her lips and stepped forward as well, shutting the door behind her as she rested a hand on Bucky’s arm. She knew how much her fiance truly hated Scott and just how badly he wanted to beat the living daylights out of him. So many nights, Bucky would lay with his head on Lily’s chest and tell her how much he hates what Scott did to her. She would simply listen and play with his hair, smiling about the passion he had.

It made her feel loved. She felt cared for with Bucky. Even if it was from him telling her how much he wanted to kill her son’s biological father. Those were the nights Lily would promise that they would submit the adoption paperwork. Yet, many years later, the two still haven’t done it. There was no real rush to do it. Lily wondered if there was a hidden reason why she and Bucky hadn’t submitted it yet.

“Calm down, Cyborg,” Scott snapped, his own anger matching Bucky’s, “No need to go all… never mind. “

“Watch it,” Lily warned, standing next to Bucky and staring angrily at her ex, “I will not hesitate to call the cops. Now answer Bucky, why are you here?”

“We moved in down the road!” Priya beamed, bouncing back and forth, “It was my idea. We thought it would be good for Scott to be close to Hunter!”

Lily raised her eyebrows and tilted her head at the taller man in front of her. As far as she was concerned, Scott didn’t have the right to be near her son. Hunter was Bucky’s son. Scott had signed the adoption papers for Bucky and given his consent for him to adopt Hunter. It was a done deal. There was no need for Hunter and Scott to have a relationship. Hunter didn’t want one, and Scott lost that chance years ago.

“Close to Hunter?” Lily challenged, crossing her arms over her chest, “Closer to Hunter? There is no need to be closer to Hunter. He already lives with his father.”

“Noooo, Scott lived in the city. Scott, you told me she was smart.” Priya chuckled, giving a tight smile to the shorter blonde.

“Get off of my porch,” Bucky sneered, clenching his fists, “Or I will forcibly remove you both.”

Lily felt everything around her go tense. The air was thick, and the entire world seemed to be closing in on her. Who did Scott think he was? What kind of man moves down the street from his estranged son and ex-wife and their family? The blonde knew for a fact that if anyone in her immediate circle got wind of what happened, there would be hell to pay on Scott’s end. Even without them, Lily was going to make sure that man was as far away as can be from her and her family.

“See you later, neighbours,” Scott chuckled, winking at Lily and walking down the steps with Priya.

“Get the papers,” Lily whispered, “Get the adoption papers. I’m calling Carter now. We’re ending this.”

-----

Lily sighed as she unbuckled Stella from her car seat, tucking a stray piece of chocolate hair behind her ear. The young girl had a saddened look on her face, as though her whole world was falling apart. In the four-year-olds defence, Lily knew how excited she was to go wedding dress shopping. Sadly, there were more pressing matters at hand than finding her dream dress. She had already cancelled and rescheduled the appointment.

“I’m sorry, baby,” Lily whispered, running her thumb across her daughter’s cheek, “We’ve got to see Carter for a bit. Then, you get to see Leo!”

Stella looked up with glassed-over blue eyes, “But I wanted to see you in the pretty dresses.”

Lily sighed softly and nodded, “I know. I know you did. It’ll be even more special when we go next week.”

Stella pouted and tucked her face into Lily’s shoulder, gripping her blazer. The blonde sighed softly and shut the car door, walking around to meet Bucky at Rose’s apartment building entrance. The tall man gave his fiance a gentle smile before kissing her forehead, laying his hand on the small of her back. The two didn’t waste any more time while walking into the building and waiting for the elevator.

“Thank you two again,” Lily whispered as she handed her daughter to Sam, “I can’t have this happen. I’m hoping this will deter him.”

Rose gave her sister a sad smile before embracing her tightly, “It’ll be okay. You two have gone through hell; you can handle this.”

Lily nodded and revelled in her sister’s touch. When she and Bucky left the apartment, a few tears slipped from the mother’s brown eyes. She and Bucky stopped for a moment, stepping into a corner of the lobby and just holding each other. Lily attempted to relax and hold the tears back. She didn’t need Hunter seeing her cry while they were on their way to her lawyer’s office. He had already dealt with her running around the house, organizing everything and not speaking to him.

It was Bucky that had to brief Hunter on what was happening. An hour later, the family was loaded into the car on their way down to Manhattan. The drive was silent other than Hunter trying to cheer up an upset Stella. The tension was taut and awkward, no one really knowing what to say. Lily could barely process what was happening. She thought everything was fine with Scott. Sure, it was weird that he and Walker went for dinner. But he wasn’t bothering her. He had left her and Bucky alone for the years leading up to this moment. He never attempted to gain custody back and even admitted his faults with Hunter.

Why he suddenly decides to move in down the street and try to rekindle a relationship with his son? Lily had no idea. She thought things had finally calmed down with the drama. She just wanted to live the rest of her life in peace, plan her wedding, and raise her children. That’s all Lily ever wanted. She wanted a simple life.

Ever since Lily was a child, she dreamed of a house by the water. She revelled in the idea of meeting someone perfect and starting a family. She wanted away from the city and to be able to sit in an open backyard. Instead, she faced trauma and heartbreak countless times over. She went through hell and back with her family and suffered when it came to finding love. Lily craved that relaxation and serenity.

Was it too much to ask? Was it too much to ask to have a peaceful life with her family and the man she loved? She saw everyone else getting it. Her friends at Hunter’s school had it. Stella’s teachers had it. What was it with Lily that had the universe out to hurt her?

“Why?” Lily whispered, gripping Bucky’s tie, “Why does it keep happening? Why can’t he just leave us alone.”

“I don’t know, my love,” Bucky whispered, placing gentle kisses to the top of Lily’s head, “I don’t know. But we’ll figure this out. I promise.”

A part of Lily wondered if it was true. She doubted it. Whenever something went well in Lily’s life, some sort of force sent another troubling event her way. For four years, she and Bucky raised their family and found that peace they both craved. Bucky was able to finally rest from his life of avenging and saving the world. Lily was able to settle down with the love of her life and raise the family she always wanted. She had everything laid out for her and ready for her to take. And just as things were hitting that high peak, everything crashed.

Lily wasn’t sure how much more she could take.

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sasster · 6 years

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how many fankids do you have! can we know more about them ?

I did 22/27 that I remembered off the top of my head, and then I kept remembering more of my ocs and it just kept making the list longer so I gave up.

I’ll make a separate post for the ones I missed anyhow!

Honorable Mention:

Sprout and Star. They were both raised separately on two of my alien planets one Narathix and the other Cardalith, respectively. I don’t have a lot on them yet because they are like brand brand new. But Star is a goofy man child who like to run around making a fool of himself. Sprout will cut you.

–

Reid and Alli are my most used/fleshed out humans. They are best friends and have been for as long as they can remember, they do pretty much everything together. Reid’s a know it all that unfortunately has a photographic memory. His pass time is horror movies and anything cryptid related. Alli loves going outside and being in nature! She’ll climb a tree if you dare her too, or if you don’t, actually. When she graduated she wanted to be a social worker! She wanted to be just like her older cousin.

Clay is an air force veteran, he was nothing more extravagant than a pilot but shhhhh! He likes to pretend his job was secret hush hush, and doesn’t exactly talk about anything that relates to his time there. He was enlisted for 10 years before some Bad Times fell on him and a buddy. His favorite pastime is taking pictures, ideally he’ll take pictures of people – with consent of course – but nature shots are okay too! He’s got a bit of a short temper, but he tries his best to keep it under wraps.

(Everyone else is under the cut)

Atlas, Ezra, and Isaiah are triplets. Atlas being the oldest, ten minutes older than Izzy, the youngest. Ezra’s in there somewhere. Atlas also served in the air force and happens to be the Buddy that bad times fell on for with Clay. All they are willing to talk about from the accident is that it left Atlas nearly completely deaf in their left ear. Primarily they used sign language at home to communicate with one of their mothers who is entirely deaf, so they were well equipped for this change. After their time, Atlas became a chemistry teacher! They like to think they are good at their job.

Ezra is an apiarist! Though all three of them lived close to their mothers, Ezra lived the closest, right next to them. He had a colony of bees in his backyard as well as theirs that he looked after very closely. Ezra is very shy and entirely not as outgoing as Atlas or Izzy, but he does make up for it in being an especially pleasant person to be around! His free time is occupied by books if he isn’t around his brothers!

Izzy is, as stated above, the baby of the group! He is a child therapist, but primarily was a social worker back on Earth. He found it was his calling to make the world place for others as best he can. (Can you guess who the older cousin Alli aspired to be like is?) Izzy is incredibly outgoing, but not nearly as overzealous as Atlas, and loves bringing a little light into the room wherever he happens to wander. His confidence and charm are off the charts!

Marion is their younger sister and Is the youngest Clarke. I haven’t played her yet! But she is an honorable mention.

—Another little clan: Elven, Aliene, Sophia, and Gabe.

Elven is a private investigator who also just so happened to be a licensed lawyer back on the home planet. After passing his bar he literally was just like “eh” and changed his mind. His true passion/calling/what have you is baking! He could spend an entire evening just churning out desserts. He is another one that goes out of his way to make sure other people are happy, though he is careless more often then not and has a tendency to forget that other people are people. Depending on the time of day.

Aliene was a veterinarian before she was cast away from earth, fun little tid bit, of all of my humans, Sprout and Star aside, she has been off planet the longest and hates it the most. She finds surrounding herself with animals is a lot easier than being around people, they are far less judgmental, familial ties aside.

Sophia is next in line and she was an army medic! If your question at this point is “God Chase why so many service people?” the honest truth is it’s the easiest career to write, fight me. Do after having served, she resigned to a career in nursing because she was more capable of actually spending more times with her patients. In her free time she boxes!

Gabe is also teeny tiny, the youngest of this family and another one I haven’t played often enough to grasp his personality.

—Avery is a tattoo artist, he is a small angry man that is small and also angry. He has spent entirely too long fighting in court with his ex (an npc named Lauren who is just Despicable) for custody of his darling baby daughter Carmel. She is ten years old now, and if he didn’t get abducted by aliens he wasn’t so certain he had any fight left in him for the battle! He spends much of his time doting over her and her current obssessions. As of late, she very much wants to jewlery so he helps her with that! His entire universe is centered around his baby Caramel.

Marshall is Carmels uncle, and yes he is related to aforementioned npc Lauren,no he is not as bad as she is. He loves Carmel to death. He’s been Avery’s best friend since high school and his only advocate outside of his own family for his side. Besides that he is a psychiatrist, but you wouldn’t think that just by looking at him. Due to existing trauma from a past life, he does not let himself get too terribly close to people outside of those that already exist within his friend group. By looking at him one could tell he forces himself to be withdrawn and is actually quite the people person if he doesn’t control himself!

–Autumn is the newest of all of my humans. He is a soft man and used to work in a planetarium. I don’t have a lot of information on him yet but he is an all around family man and he spends most of his time with his husband and their two kids.

One of which is a darling baby girl, Winter, whose two favorite things are zombies and flamingos! Don’t get her started on zombie flamingos!!!

–-Kris is a construction worker who has 110 bad things under his belt. He recognizes that he isn’t a great person and is working towards bettering himself and the world around him – It isn’t easy for him but he’s trying his hardest with the resources he has. He is recovering from a great many things and certainly doesn’t try to justify any of what he’s done in the past!—Nate was a history teacher and he is very incredibly and entirely too skittish! He’s scared of his own shadow, and has anxiety that could go from 0 to 100 at the drop of a hat. Then he’ll want to know whose hat it is where did it come from and how does he get it from the floor without upsetting them! He has two darling baby children that are absolutely the worst and also very demonic. He loves them with his whole entire heart!

Jessie is a small child and she’s aspiring to be a journalist! Her parents are very good about letting her pursue her interests as she goes. She has a little journal she takes with her everywhere she goes! Everything is written down, and of course her very special toy Lion comes with her no matter where she’s going

James was a science teacher, I haven’t used him a lot to develop his personality! But he was Nate’s high school crush and the namesake for one of his twins. He spends a great deal of his time talking Nate off of the ledge.

—Sam and Luke are brothers, but they aren’t very close. Sam’s pretty spiteful of Lukes having left him and their siblings behind when he turned eighteen and kind of just left. The truth is that Luke just wasn’t ready for the responsibility of helping raise his family and for fear of making them turn out worse, he couldn’t just rip them with him.

Sam is boisterous, intrusive, and often times a little brash. He tries his best to conceal parts of him that remind him of his father, but sometimes they seep through the cracks.

#Anonymous #askter #long post #this was a loonnggg hour #thank you for taking interest in them jaekfjkeafjea #i went on a few tangents #coko writes sometimes

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aion-rsa · 3 years

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Good Girls Recap: What Happened to Rio, is Boomer Dead and More

https://ift.tt/3857USq

NBC series Good Girls is a darkly comic crime romp which plays like Ozark meets Breaking Bad but with a bunch of mums. Christina Hendrix stars as alpha mother Beth, who is bored of her seemingly perfect life, while her little sister Annie (Mae Witman) is an irresponsible single mum who works at a grocery store. With Beth’s best friend Ruby (Retta), who needs money to pay for meds for her daughter who has kidney problems, the women go down an increasingly dark criminal path.

The season one pilot introduced the premise: Beth, Annie and Ruby decide to rob the store that Annie works in when they find themselves in dire financial states. Annie thinks there’s around 30k in the safe which would be enough to bail each of them out. But when they count the cash it’s closer to half a million.

Turns out that money belongs to shady gangster Rio (Manny Montana) – Annie’s dodgy boss Boomer (David Hornsby) had been turning a blind eye to money laundering via the store. Rio is not happy and he wants his money back. Unfortunately the trio have spent quite a chunk, in particular Annie who’s blown it on a new car, laptop, phone etc.

Now they have to work with Rio, initially retrieving ‘a package’ for him from Canada, which turns out to be laundered money, then taking care of an injured associate and then helping Rio ‘wash’ the laundered cash.

The structure of the show tends to see the girls come up with a cunning new way to make/launder money (or a stupid one like doing another robbery) and then inadvertently promise one criminal or another a ridiculous amount of cash to fix whatever mess they have found themselves in, meaning they are constantly grifting but never really have any meaningful, stable, available cash.

And of course criminal activities of this scale don’t go unnoticed. Family members, former bosses, employees and the cops grow suspicious as the noose tightens around the accidental suburban gangster mums network.

Here’s where we are left at the end of season three…

Is Boomer Dead?

No! Or rather, probably not. Boomer as you will recall was Annie’s awful boss at the Fine and Frugal where she worked. During the initial robbery he clocks her back tattoo and attempts to blackmail her into sleeping with him. When she won’t he tries to rape her, but Beth interupts and attacks him. The two women tie him up and keep him in a tree house but he escapes.

Boomer is a perpetual pain in the ass for the women, discovering their money laundering racket with their army of shoppers and blackmailing Mary Pat (Allison Tolman) to marry him (who in turn had been blackmailing the girls).

Beth offers Boomer a pay-off to disappear but instead he goes to the cops who put him in witness protection. Mary Pat manages to coax his location out of him and the girls head there with the intention of killing him, but tired of waiting for Mary Pat, he turns up at her place. When she tries to get away from him with her kids she accidentally – and then not accidentally – runs him over. She tells Beth, Annie and Ruby that she then cut him up and put him in the freezer. They get rid of the (packaged up) body at a massive tip.

“Why am I Watching This?” Firefly Lane and the Compulsion of Newness

By Rosie Fletcher

Though we spend much of season two believing that Boomer is dead, with Beth, Annie and Ruby in the frame for his murder (Mary Pat goes to the cops), and Rio hiding the body before the police can track it down and later using it to blackmail them, a shock revelation occurs toward the end of the season. Boomer’s not dead!!! Instead the body belonged to Mary Pat’s ex-husband Jeff who died of natural causes. Mary Pat hid the body so she could continue to collect his disability cheques.

Boomer’s been hiding in his grandma’s attic but she persuades him to come clean to stop Beth going to jail for his murder.

In season three Boomer is back. We learn he got a load of face tattoos before he went to jail (presumably for faking his own death and for his part in the Fine and Frugal money laundering operation). He pops back up in season three when Rio sends the women to pick up another ‘package’ – Boomer had set a fire and broken out of prison on Rio’s command.

The last time we see Boomer he’s in a sports bag in the custody of Rio and his men. We’d expect him back in season four in some capacity.

Beth and Rio

Part of the fun of the show is the fizzy relationship between Beth and Rio. He excites her, she fascinates him and there’s crazy sexual tension between the two which is consummated more than once. Though Beth ‘ends’ things with Rio – both professionally and romantically, the fact that he has hidden Boomer’s body (which is actually Jeff’s body – see above) to help the women out means he’s able to blackmail them into washing more money for him. He’s not going to let Beth go.

However, their relationship deteriorates fast after Beth shoots Rio. At the end of season two Rio abducts her and gives her a chance to shoot the officer who has been pursuing her, Agent Turner (James Lesure), but instead she turns the gun on Rio leaving him to bleed out.

Or so she thought… season three reveals he’s not dead – Agent Turner called an ambulance and saved his life with the agreement that he would become Turner’s informant. Not one to be controlled by someone else, Rio callously murders Turner. The case against Beth is derailed but Rio is hardly going to let her get away with trying to kill him.

Faking a pregnancy Beth buys herself a bit more time, while establishing their own very successful money laundering business with the help of naive designer Lucy (Charlyne Yi), who Rio later murders.

The tension between Rio and Beth in series three is less sexual and more ‘who is going to kill whom first?’

Behind Her Eyes: the Book Detail Too Nasty for the Netflix Show

By Louisa Mellor

Dean buys a gun and plans to have a go at killing Rio but Beth dissuades him. Lucy’s boyfriend Max decides he’s definitely going to kill Rio after he discovers what happened to Lucy, but he bottles it at the last minute. He says he has a cousin who might be able to help but he too isn’t the man for the job. Eventually they meet enigmatic professional hitman Mr. Fitzpatrick (Andrew McCarthy), who demands an extortionate fee to do the job. Fortunately the money laundering means they are able to scrape together the cash. Unfortunately Fitzpatrick has a ‘no crimes of passion’ policy which means that when he finds out about Beth and Rio’s former affair, their contract is void – and the women still owe him for a load of outlandish expenses.

By the end of the series, though, Fitzgerald has put Rio’s hit back on his schedule after Beth proves she’s serious about killing him.

Annie and her boyfriends

Poor old Annie doesn’t have a massive amount of luck in her love life. Reuniting with her ex-, Sadie/Ben’s (Isaiah Stannard) father Gregg (Zach Gilford), while his new wife is pregnant turned out to be a bad move which alienated her from Sadie. Later Annie dates her new boss at the Fine and Frugal, Noah (Sam Huntington) who seems great, until she finds out he’s FBI. In season three the object of her affection is Josh (Rob Heaps), a child therapist she meets when she’s sent to see an actual adult therapist. Josh becomes her therapist but she’s clearly falling for him. He has a girlfriend already (Lila) that he’s been with for many years and Annie attempts, but fails, to seduce him.

Sadie/Ben

Annie’s kid who went by Sadie tells Annie in season two he’s a boy, and we understand that Annie wants money to help Sadie transition (there’s a reference made to particular drugs). In season three Sadie now goes by Ben which Annie accepts wholeheartedly, as does his dad Gregg, while Gregg’s second wife Nancy struggles initially to remember to call him Ben, and then overdoes it somewhat. While in season three Annie is struggling to get her life together, Ben is increasingly responsible and looks after his mum, including explaining to Annie’s new therapist Josh that she will become too attached and he mustn’t lead her on.

New business

Thinking Rio is gone, Beth, Annie and Ruby embark on their own independent money laundering operation while doing normal jobs on the side, each of which contribute to the business. Ruby works in a nail salon and pinches materials, including a particular shade of polish, Annie does valet parking and gets tipped in one dollar bills which they use for the paper while Beth works at a card and stationary shop which has its own printing press.

Once they get the design right (via Lucy) and the color and texture combo right, laundering money in high enough volumes to cover their increasing costs becomes a challenge. Getting actual criminals involved doesn’t work out especially well either.

When Rio is back on the scene everything gets way more precarious – he even sends a heavy to watch Beth’s house. Eventually Beth, Ruby and Annie are printing and washing the money themselves and still having to give a cut to Rio.

Constantly striving for independence, by the end of season three the ever resourceful Beth has come up with a new plan. She and husband Dean (Matthew Lillard) have bought the whole spa business he works for at a cut price (after she robs the place of all its merchandise). They will print the fake cash and use the spa business to wash it.

Though she’s built her own fully functioning criminal enterprise by the end of season three Beth is still beholden to Rio. “When is it going to be mine?” she asks him. “You should have emptied the clip” he replies indicating that she won’t be free from him until he’s dead.

Meanwhile, Ruby and Stan (Reno Wilson) come to an agreement that they just won’t tell each other about their dubious occupations – Stan is working as security in a strip club, Ruby is… well you know. The situation works at first but begins to put real strain on their marriage, though by the end of season three the two are united.

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New cops

Turner may be gone but there are new cops working the case – notably Agent Phoebe Donnegan (Lauren Lapkus) the slightly Columbo-esque dorky but dogged detective who begins to crack down on the group’s counterfeiting business. She deduces early on that it’s women running things, and follows the trail to Ruby via the charity manicure and pedicure event she organises (as a front to get her hands on supplies of the very specific color of nail polish she needs for the fake cash). Agent Donnegan has swiped Ruby’s phone while getting her nails done and found it full of pictures of her, Beth and Annie, tipping her off to the fact that Ruby’s not in it alone. Chances are she’ll be the main antagonist for the three in season four.

Good Girls season four will air on NBC from March 7

The post Good Girls Recap: What Happened to Rio, is Boomer Dead and More appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/2MFDSgH

#aion-rsa #Den of Geek

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krikeymate · 10 months

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What if…

…Papa Carpenter had taken Tara with him when he left? Do you think Sam would have stayed in Woodsboro with her mom? Or would she have left even earlier? Would she try to hunt down Tara? Or would she tell herself that it’s for the better? Would Christina fight for custody? Or would she just not really care?

I’d imagine that Tara would have grown up more sheltered. Mr Carpenter probably wasn’t a bad father (although A GOOD ONE would not just leave his daughter(s)). Maybe he gets married again and his new wife treats Tara well. Maybe they even have more kids and Tara gets a bunch of younger siblings. Away from her Woodsboro friends, Tara might never get involved in the Ghostface attacks.

Even if he doesn’t get married again, they could just be a super cute single-dad-daughter duo. I actually think that this would have been the „best case scenario“ for Tara. She would have missed Sam of course, but she was still young enough to eventually move on, cause kids usually move on pretty quickly.

I also think that it would pretty much be a worst case scenario for Sam, though. Although she probably started pulling away from Tara after the diary incident so maybe she’d have simply accepted it…

Do you have any thoughts on this?

I feel like I've touched on this topic before, but I can't find it so we start from scratch!

So, easy answer is he takes her away and that's that. But that's boring. There also wouldn't be a story! Because Sam would have nothing tying her to Woodsboro and her mother, and once she leaves, that's it. Tara's 8, she's helpless in that situation. Maybe she'll think about her mother and her sister, but what can she do? By the time she's old enough to do anything, it's already far too late. Maybe they're able to reconnect as adults, through social media. Maybe Sam sees the notification, maybe she ignores it, thinks it's better that way. Maybe she never stops drinking, maybe she still takes drugs, without a sister waiting for her to get better. Maybe she never lives that long at all, without her reason for living.

So, fuck that.

Tara's a good kid. She's always known that acting out will get her a box around the ear, her mother won't take any shit from her if she remembers she exists, and she never has a reason to act out when Sam's looking after her.

But Tara's spunky. Her father grabs her arm and drags her away from her screaming mother and crying sister, and she won't have it. She struggles and yells at him to let her go. She cries out for her sister. He doesn't like that she's fighting him. He didn't mean to knock her out, it was an accident. It doesn't stop him from taking advantage of the situation. He throws Sam back off of his arm, where she tries to push past him, grabs the smaller girl and leaves.

All the neighbours are watching from their doorways. They'd been loud. They watch Christina Carpenter turn on her daughter and scream about how this is all her fault. Sam runs to her room, slamming the door shut behind her.

When Tara wakes up, her father tries to apologise, to explain. Her mother's a whore he says. Tara doesn't know what that means, but she knows he says it with anger and disgust. (Like the time last summer when mother found her and Sam napping together in their underwear. Mother said some words she didn't understand either in the same way.)

Then he says Sam's not really her sister, the she's just a monster, that he had to take her away because Sam would hurt her.

He's a liar. He's the monster, Tara knows. He hurt her. She wants her sister.

She remembers the advice her sister had told her once, if someone tried to take her and she didn't want to go, to scream. So she does. She kicks out at him, knocks over the dresser, and screams and shouts and continues to do so right up until the police knock on the motel door. Her chest is hurting so much by then, and she begs the officer to take her home, that she needs her sister, that she wants her inhaler.

"You've got that the wrong way round there, huh?" he says kindly, holding her on his hip, hand rubbing her back. "Nu-uh," she mumbles, wheezing into his shoulder.

He takes her to the hospital, and sends an officer to the Carpenter house for more information on the domestic They come back with a distraught 13-year-old, who barrels into her sister and clings to her. The smaller girl clings back just as hard.

The officer tells Mr Carpenter that if he's got a custody dispute, he can take it up in court.

Tara bounces between her mother and her father. He uses the unsafe home argument, to claim he should get full custody. "Then you should take your elder girl as well," the courts declare. He can't bring himself to admit the truth, that he was deceived, cuckolded, for so many years. That he was raising a tainted child. He drops the case, too proud.

Sam misses her sister every moment she's away, and holds her tight every time she's there. Tara gets clingy. She hates having to leave Sam.

Sam goes to parties when she's alone, to forget for a little while, but the very first time she's offered something a little stronger, she thinks about the argument her fa- he used. All he had to say was she's not my daughter, and she could have lost her sister forever, all because her mother likes to drink, to take those pills. She goes home early and vows to do nothing that will risk her sister being able to come home.

She can't lose her. She won't lose her.

#/mp #ask box #Scream #Sam Carpenter #Tara Carpenter #scream canon divergence #best case scenario for tara vs worst case scenario for sam is so real #I don't think their childhood can possibly be functional enough that Tara would forgive her father and lose Sam #and if it was - that's boring and I don't want it

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ayyoitsalex · 4 years

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Chapter 4 - Calling All Collins

-Saturday- The kids and I were up early this morning on account of a special occasion. It's Sam's birthday, so we're taking the weekend to celebrate her. First thing was making Sam's favorite breakfast of chocolate chip waffles with whipped cream. We made everything by hand, and we were serving it to her in bed. The boys also made a card which they both signed, and had Charly put her hand print on. I plated up the food and we all crept upstairs slowly. The boys giggled excitedly walking with the tray of food while I followed behind with Charly. They set the tray on the nightstand next to Sam before standing next to me. I mouthed "1-2-3!" and we all shouted. "Happy birthday mommy!" Sam shot out of bed eyes popping out of her skull. She took a minute to catch her breath before AJ and Cole piled into bed to hug her. "For me!? C'mere my boys!" Sam laughed cuddling the kids. "We made you breakfast mama." Cole smiled proudly pointing. "My favorites. You guys.." She set up the tray in front of her while we all sat up on the bed together taking bites from her. "What about my sweet Charly girl does she want some?" Charly crawled over from the foot of the bed to take a bite. "Mm did mama and brothers do a good job?" Charly just flashed a toothy smile before turning back around to the tv. "Happy birthday love." We shared a small kiss before I smeared a bit of whipped cream on Sam's nose per my family's tradition. She looked at me none too amused but eventually laughed as I kissed it off. -DING DONG- I looked at Sam to see if she knew who would be here this early, but she gave the same look in return. I set Charly next to Sam to investigate downstairs to who was at the door especially so early. When I opened it up I couldn't believe my eyes. "Where is she?" I couldn't even speak I just screamed. Sam bolted up with Charly and the boys to see the commotion. "KAYLA!" Sam shouted running downstairs with Charly. We all hugged while the boys looked at us like we were nuts. "It's been like years!" "I had some time, and your birthday seemed as good an occasion as any to finally stop by and see you guys other than on facetime." "Boys c'mere." They walked over slowly. "This is one of mommy and I's best friends in the world. This is your auntie Kayla." She smiled sweetly at them while they both waved awkwardly in return. "Oh! Honey come on in." Sam and I were both excited for this too, since we'd never met Kayla's daughter in person. She was a spitting image of Kayla and her mom. "This is Kara." She smiled at us waving. She was a little older than Cole, and in my head I just wanted them to grow up to be best friends. "Hi I'm Kara!" She said extending her hand to Cole. "I'm..Cole." He answered slowly before shaking her hand. "Hey sweetie, why don't you and AJ show Kara the hoop out back to play a little." Kara's eyes lit up as soon as I said hoop. Most definitely Kayla's kid. She couldn't get out there fast enough and before we knew it the kids were laughings and playing. Both Sam and I sat down with Kayla while I held Charly. "So what brings you home?" I asked pouring Kayla a coffee. "Well my overseas season ended and my contract in Seattle wasn't renewed. Just trying to find something to do until someone calls again." "Aw Kay I'm sorry about the Storm." Sam said. "It's okay, I got to be a part of a championship season finally." She showed us her ring and we were both in awe. "Apart from ours that is." "Kara is like an exact copy of you and your mom." Sam said. "Thank god. I'd be kicking myself if she looked like her dad..though I'd still love her regardless." "Things still rough I take it?" I asked pouring everyone a fresh cup of coffee. Kayla nodded hard looking annoyed just thinking about it. "Well atleast you have full custody." "Not like the court had a choice. I'm the only one with a job and a place to live." "So when you're in season overseas where does Kara stay?" "Well we have our place in Seattle and for the most part my overseas seasons are in the summer time. So when I have to leave my sister comes up and stays with her or my parents for the summer. Or I let her go down here to spend the summer. What about you guys? Must have your hands full with three!" "We get by with a lot of help." I laughed. "Yeah both our parents love picking up the kids and letting them stay in the afternoon, and we have no shortage of babysitters to call on." "Right I mean all of your brothers, and Selena's got her siblings. Do either of the boys play ball yet?" Sam and I both shook our heads slightly disappointed. "Mm well maybe later down the line." We both crossed our fingers. "Hey if anything maybe little missy here will play for mommy." Kayla's definitely come a long way with kids from when we first met. Charly reached out for Kayla and she didn't hesitate to hold her. "Well hello! Aren't you sweet. We haven't met before, but your mommies keep sending me pictures." "Augh! My heart just melts looking at them." Sam cuddled close to me. Kayla smirked shaking her head. The kids came back inside catching their breath and sitting down in the living room. "What game over already?" Sam laughed. They all nodded still trying to catch their breath. "Oh! I almost forgot about your present." "Kay you didn't have to get me anything!" "I did so! You two are my best friends, and what kind of friend would I be if I didn't bring gifts for your birthdays." Sam and I looked at one another before shrugging our shoulders in agreement. Kayla handed Sam a bag, to which Sam proceeded to throw around the paper like an animal. Her eyes lit up when she pulled out a frame with her high school jersey and a picture of all of us on our championship night. The boys and Kara gathered around us to look at the photo. It seemed like a lifetime ago, but there we were holding the trophy. "What's on your knee there mama?" AJ asked me. "Mm mommy hurt her knee in the game before this one, and didn't get to play in that game." "Good thing I was there to save the day." Sam laughed hugging me. I rolled my eyes. "Ahem excuse me I was also playing in that game." Kayla leered over at Sam. "So you and mommy were friends even a long time ago huh." AJ said. "A long time ago! Excuse you Adam Justin Ryan, mommy and I aren't that old!" Everyone laughed as Sam huffed. "Where's that trophy now?" Cole asked. "It's in the gym at school where I coach sweetie. It's in the case next to grandpa's trophy he won when he went to school there. Maybe someday one of you guys will win one there. Or like auntie Kayla said earlier maybe even Charly girl." Charly flashed a smile at the sound of her name. Kayla eventually departed to see her family, and we had our own set of people to see for Sam's birthday. All of Sam's brothers were in town for dinner, which meant a rowdy house. Sam and I were just glad it wasn't our house. To be honest I had to have Sam give me a crash course on just exactly who was who since it'd been so long since we'd seen all of her family at one time. I used to think my family was big, but Sam and her brothers take the prize. Five brothers, five sister-in-laws, over ten nephews, and three nieces. If anything I just implore my technique of not using names when talking with someone that remembers me and fake my way through. "HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" Sam's parents house practically erupted from everyone jumping out at us walking through the door. Before we knew it we were getting hugs and kisses left and right from the entire family, and I could tell it was a bit much for the boys. All of Sam's brothers were watching a game in the livng room. "Sammy!" They all rushed her and dog piled on top of her. She managed to squeeze her way out as they turned their attention to me and the boys. A giant group hug enveloped us. I braced myself. "Agh hi guys." I gasped for breath. "Say hi to your uncles boys." I nudged them forward. "Hi uncle, Carson, Scott, Ben, Ronnie, and Darren." Both AJ and Cole made their way over to their cousins in the other room all surrounding a TV and some kind of game system. Sam and I made our way to the rest of the adults to continue our greetings. We all caught up with one another asking the typical questions like how things are going, how's work, etc. A tap on my shoulder and Carson was behind me holding two drinks for Sam and I. We hugged, greeting one another. "So how're the boys? Sam sends me updates every once in a while, but I hate not being so close." "They're good, though we did have an issue like last week. Nothing that couldn't be resolved the old fashioned way. Y'know talking it out, bein-" "You or Sam punched someone didn't you." Carson smirked. "Okay maybe." He shook his head laughing. I'm closer to Carson more so than any of Sam's brothers cause...y'know he was my last straight relationship . Though you might think that makes things weird, but Carson is happy in his own life with his wife and we're both happy for one another. Carson's wife came over with their little one. "Hey Selena! Oh my god look at Charly lil cutie." Charly flashed a modest grin like yes tell me how cute I am. Carson's kid was just a few months younger than Charly, but by weight you couldn't tell. This was a thicc boi with two c's. We did a typical baby exchange. Avery looked relieved at how light Charly seemed in comparision. "Honey! C'mere check out baby Tommy." Sam's eyes grew big at the sight of the chubby cheeked baby. "Holy fuck lemme see this chonky boy. Yep this ones definitely a Collins alright" It'd been a while since we'd seen Tommy, and when we did he was still newborn. I handed Tommy over to Sam. She started hugging up on him, which didn't please Charly too much who started whining at the sight. Carson, his wife Avery, and myself couldn't help but laugh. "Aw sweetie c'mere it's okay." Carson passed her over to me. She buried her face into my shoulder out of jealousy. "Mommys just giving your cousin some hugs." Charly was having none of it, and just clung onto me for dear life. When it came time for the cake Sam sat alone at the table while we all gathered around to sing. Both the boys stood next to her and we all finished the song clapping as she blew out the candles. As pieces of cake were being handed out to the kids and wives, none of Sam's brothers were to be found. While talking with another of her sisters-in-law I spotted them as they signaled me to keep quiet. I nodded slowly not really knowing what was coming. I pulled out my phone to record, trying to look as innocent a possible. They all snuck up from behind Sam and smashed a cake into her face. I couldn't help but laugh as she started to sprint after all of them. "I AM GOING TO GET ALL OF YOU FUCKERS!" Sam's voiced echoed through her parent's neighborhood. When Sam ran out of gas the boys walked back into the room to see Sam brushing frosting from her face. "You guys are lucky this tastes good.." She growled taking a paper towel to her face. The brothers high-fived me as they walked by me. "Babe! The fuck!" Sam held her arms out demanding an explanation. "Well! They went SHH!" Sam just glared at me while I laughed nervously. "Oh they went SHH. Good one." "I love you?" Sam walked slowly her face still with bits of frosting. I didn't know exactly what was coming, but I just let it happen. She hugged me tight grasping both arms. and smeared her face against mine, getting every possible bit from her face onto mine and my clothes. "Yeah..I deserve this one." Sam nodded furiously. Carson took a picture and posted to his story. Sam looked at me smiling, most of the frosting moved from her face to mine.

#book

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