My name is Sarah (35/she/her), I'm an 18+ blog, be responsible with the content you read, it’s not kid friendly in here.
I started out as a TGM blog but I am no longer writing fanfiction, currently working on my first novel. This page will always be available so everyone can continue to read, I appreciate everyone that has been around for this journey.
Likes, reblogs, asks, comments they are all so appreciated!
I write primarily AFAB/FEMALE reader inserts or characters, if that’s not for you there are so many amazing writers that write for male/trans/non-binary characters in our community!!
I am no longer writing fic, but thanks for coming around and reading my stuff!
once again going bonkers about fourth of july fall out boy. said i'd never miss you, but i guess you never know, may the bridges i have burned light my way back home? you are my favorite "what-if," you are my best "i'll never know"???? in between being young and being right, you were my versailles at night??????? i wish i'd known how much you loved me, i wish i cared enough to know. i'm sorry every song's about you, the torture of small talk with someone you used to love????????????????
"dc is darker" "marvel has more fantasy" "dc is mystery and marvel is sci fi - " all of you are wrong. dc comics is when a man has black hair and blue eyes. marvel comics is when a man has blonde hair and blue eyes.
Summary: The Great Depression wasn't called a depression for nothing. Jobs were scarce, and the price of food and other necessities were rising higher and higher with each passing day. What little money you were able to make went straight to the bank and out of reach from your booze-swilling lech of a brother. It's on one such run that you come face to face with members of the infamous Dagger Gang; a group of, admittedly handsome, men who steal from the banks to hand it back out to the poor. You want nothing to do with them, but that brown-headed devil might just have something to say to the contrary. (1930s!Mobster!AU)
Content Warning: Feelings of inadequacy from reader, Lectures from father figures, Bank robbery, Mentions of guns, Mentions of historical events, Flirting, Cocky Bucky, Forced kissing, Reader gets knocked out, and slight kidnapping. I think that's it, but please let me know if I missed something!
Word Count: 3.2k
Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist
The heels of your shoes clacked against the pavement, and you made a mental note to replace the worn out pair sooner rather than later. It was an unwanted expense, albeit a necessary one. You’d have to spring for more thread and perhaps another needle too considering you had discovered a rip in your skirt on your way into town.
You let out a heavy sigh, a frown tugging on your lips that could almost be called a pout if it weren’t for your pride. Your hand tightened on the strap of your bag as you narrowly avoided colliding shoulders with a passing stranger, a scowl marring your face as you glanced over your shoulder to glare at him. He paid you no mind, his expensive looking suit tailored to his tall figure, one hand shoved deep into his pocket as the other gripped the rim of his hat. You rolled your eyes at the mustached man before turning back forward. You weren’t personally a fan of the facial hair that had started becoming so popular as of late. You preferred either a full face or nothing at all, not that it really mattered, you supposed.
Laughter filtered out of one of the cafes, and the sound send a wave of longing through you. It had been a long time since you had taken the initiative to spend time with your friends, and more and more of them were leaving the small town, looking to bigger cities for more opportunities along with their families. Many of them lamented the fact that you seemed to be the only one who was still single amongst them, most having already settled down over the years or making their way there.
It wasn’t that you didn’t want to settle down because you did. You also knew that your current situation wasn’t exactly a healthy one to bring another person into, let alone a helpless child. Jack had developed a wicked temper ever since he started his heavy drinking, and there had been more than one occasion where you had had to make yourself scarce in order to avoid his wrath.
“Well, hey there, Moonie!”
You turned to see Mr. Colson stepping out of his shop, a beaming smile on his face as he waved at you. His hair had long since grayed, giving him a more distinguished look compared to a decade ago. You used to frequent his shop often when you were younger, your mother stopping by once a week for her essentials and a small treat for you. Your mouth watered at the memory of peanut butter cups that melted on your tongue during those days, and you briefly considered stepping into the shop to allow yourself the rare treat.
“Afternoon, Mr. Colson,” you smiled back, turning to face him as you shifted on your feet. “Getting much business today?”
“Oh, well, you know,” he chuckled, placing a hand on his hip as he rested against the door frame, “times are tough for everyone right now, so I’m taking each day as she comes.”
You hummed in agreement, your smile shifting into something slightly more sardonic at the comment.
“What about you, Moonie?” He pressed. “Don’t see you ‘round these parts much. Not since…”
He trailed off, and you bit back the urge to sigh. Your parents’ deaths had kept you fairly isolated to your little home on the outskirts, only venturing in to take the occasional job for the paper and to make your weekly deposits. You had tried to make the necessities at home stretch as much as you could, not wanting to spend more money than necessary as you kept saving.
“Don’t really have much of a need to come into town, I suppose,” you offered, tilting your head back to avoid meeting the older man’s gaze. The buildings were beginning to look rundown, one of the many downsides to living during an economic crisis.
“No,” he agreed, but the tone of his voice indicated that he felt differently. “I suppose not. I see your friends around here all the time, though. Comin’ and goin’ and makin’ the best of everything. You should join’em sometime.”
“I’d just be a third wheel,” you snort, kicking at a rock beneath your feet as your eyes continued to look everywhere but at him.
“Maybe,” He nodded, “but it would do you some good to get out of that old house of yours. You should enjoy being young while you still can.”
“It’s not so bad,” you muttered, noticing in your peripheral the cynical look he cast your way. Phil Colson had always been kind to you, sneaking you an extra sweet when you were younger and looking out for your well-being now that you were older and your parents were gone. You were grateful to him, but it didn’t stop you from letting out a huff of annoyance as he continued to stare you down.
“If I promise to make more of an effort to leave the house, will you stop nagging me like a mother hen?” You asked him, finally meeting his eyes with a challenge. He quirked an eyebrow at you, the subtle twitch of his lips being the only giveaway that a smile lay hidden beneath his stern look.
“Depends,” he hummed, “what do you mean by ‘leave the house?’ I ain’t gonna be duped out of naggin’ ya if all you’re gonna do is go around taking pictures for the paper. You need to go out and have some proper fun.”
The two of you stared one another down. You knew his heart was in the right place, but it still irked you to be scolded like a child.
“Fine,” you mumbled, earning a grin from the man in front of you. “But don’t expect me to be out here giggling like a schoolgirl every day.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he chuckled. You grunted at him, peering over towards the cafe where a group of girls emerged, arms looped through one another’s as they giggled and shrieked their way between the two of you. You took note of their carefully curled hair and ruby red lips, suddenly feeling a little self conscious at the state of yourself. You caught Mr. Colson’s eye, feeling your cheeks warm at the sight of his sympathetic smile as the girls continued on down the walkway. You didn’t need anyone’s pity.
“Come on in and grab yourself a bottle of coke,” Colson said with a roll of his shoulders, pushing off from the door frame.
“I shouldn’t,” you muttered, shooting a glance down the street. You still needed to go by the bank, and you were hoping that Mr. Fury would have an assignment for you if you swung by the Gazette headquarters early enough.
“Wasn’t a question,” Mr. Colson snorted, disappearing into his shop. You hesitated for a moment longer before letting out a long sigh, trudging through the doorway after him.
The shop held an air of familiarity, not many of the brands having changed in the long years that it had been open. There had been talk of putting in a soda fountain a few years back, but old Phil Colson had scowled at the idea, and so it had gone to the drugstore down the street instead.
The pop and hiss of the glass bottle being opened drew your attention to the counter where Mr. Colson stood, holding out the drink to you.
“How much do I owe you?” You asked, already moving to pull out some of the loose change still nestled in the depths of your bag. He waived you off before setting the bottle down and turning to mess with one of the boxes stacked in the corner.
“For you? Free of charge.”
You let out another sigh, knowing better than to argue with him as you took a sip of the bubbly liquid. It had been God only knows how long since you had allowed yourself a treat like this, and you couldn’t help but to smile as the cool, sweet drink washed over your tastebuds.
The two of you said nothing for a while as you enjoyed your treat and Mr. Kerner worked on his inventory, the day passing on as you enjoyed the peace and quiet. You finished your drink with surprising quickness, letting the bottle clack against the wood of the counter as you adjusted your bag on your shoulder.
“Headed out?” Mr. Colson asked, glancing up from his logbook as your eyes darted around the shop.
“Yeah,” you said, brow furrowing as you turned to look back at him. “Hey, you wouldn’t happen to have any thread in here by chance, would you?”
A couple of minutes later and a few cents poorer, you found yourself entering the bank. It was a large building, maybe even the largest in town. Very few people of your standing still trusted the banks, not after the stock market crash that took place almost five years ago. It wasn’t until a few months ago when the Roosevelt administration passed an emergency act that people started leaving money with the banks again. You had been one of the first to go back to the banks, and while the clerk had given you a rather disapproving look as he finalized the paperwork. You made sure to avoid him as much as possible after that first day, preferring to interact with the stout, older gentleman who always greeted you with a smile.
The bank itself held an air of prestige, like you weren’t supposed to be there amongst the opulent decorations and well-dressed patrons, several casting you bewildered looks as you paused in the doorway. Conversations were muffled as the clack of typewriters in the back mixed in with the clank of coins being counted, and no matter how many times you found yourself inside the grand room, your heart always began to race, the whispers of self consciousness tugging on the hairs on the back of your neck.
You caught sight of an older woman leaning in to her husband’s side, whispering something in his ear as she gave you a disapproving glare. Your lips tugged into a frown, and with a roll of your shoulders, you held your head high as you made your way towards one of the lines of patrons waiting to make their transactions. A man scribbled away on a piece of paper next to you, the scratch of his pen more pronounced in the echo of the hushed room.
Your fingers played with the strap of your bag, a sense of unease tugging at your gut. You didn’t like being in this space, the stark contract between you and others even more pronounced as you took in the fine clothes of the other patrons. You glanced down furtively at your navy blue skirt, noticing for the first time how worn it looked. You smoothed your hand over the pleats, once again reminding yourself that there were more important things than worrying about one’s fashion.
The line moved forward as the patron at the window finished his business, the next person stepping up to greet the clerk. There were still three people ahead of you, and you let out a sigh, cursing Mr. Colson’s insistence on you sticking around for a while.
You heard the door to the bank open, several sets of footsteps clacking onto the hardwood behind you.
“Everybody on the ground!”
Several of the people around you exclaimed in fear, a couple of women letting out terrified shrieks as a man bumped into you, nearly sending you crashing to the ground. You caught yourself just in time, placing a steadying hand on the top of the table next to you as you crouched down.
A group of five men stood in the doorway, guns in hand as they took in their surroundings. You recognized the one standing in the middle as the mustached man who nearly crashed into you earlier that morning, dark eyes holding a wild sense of mirth as he strutted further into the room.
“We’ll make this nice and easy for you folks,” he drawled, lips twitching up into a smirk. “Y’all just stay where you are, and we’ll be out of your hair before you know it.”
You watched them warily as they dispersed throughout the room, patrons shrugging away in fear whenever one got too close. A darker skinned man strutted his way across the room, grabbing a finely dressed, older gentleman by the scruff of his neck and dragged him to the back room followed by the shortest of the bunch.
You gripped your bag tightly, eyes shifting as you waited for the nightmare to be over. You shied away as one of the men walked near you, a confident swagger to his step. The man stopped just in front of you, and you could feel his eyes on you. You kept your gaze pointed forward, refusing to look at him even as he closed the distance between the two of you. You heard the weight of his gun settle on top of the table as he leaned against it, hand slipping into his pocket.
“Well hey there, Doll,” he drawled. You could hear the smirk in his voice, the timber causing your heart to skip a beat. You refused to look up at him even as he snickered.
“You don’t gotta be afraid of me, darlin’,” he continued, taking the hand out of his pocket to brush a piece of hair behind your ear. “I don’t bite. Not unless you ask me real nice.”
You stiffened at the insinuation, lips pressed firmly together as you willed him to leave you alone. Your silence only seemed to egg him on though, and the hand that lingered by your hair moved forward to ghost over the apple of your cheek, nearly brushing your lips.
“I got a way to pass the time, you know,” he purred, “all you gotta do is use that pretty little mouth of yours.”
You head shot up at his words, anger coursing through you as you glared at him, and for a second, the man looked taken aback by your sudden fury. He was handsome, you had to give him that, aggravatingly so even. Blue eyes stared down at you, squared jaw slack as he took you in. A beat passed before his shock turned into a look of pure delight. Lips curving into a salacious smirk, his hand cradled your jaw as he leaned forward, so close that the tip of his nose brushed yours.
“Aren’t you a little spitfire?” He crooned. You jerked your head back out of his grasp, baring your teeth at him. He let out another snicker as his smirk widened into a full-blown grin.
“That’s enough, Barnes,” the mustached man chided, scowling at the man in front of you. Blue eyes glanced your way once more before he let out a huff, straightening back up. He took off his hat, running his hand through brown locks before settling it back on top of his head.
“What’s taking them so long?” Barnes groused, turning to look towards the door his companions had disappeared behind not too long before. Just then, the door burst open, revealing the small group of men in question. The taller of the two robbers still had his hand on the back of the older man’s neck as he dragged him across the room. The smaller of the two held several bags in his hands, tossing one to the man on the other side of the room.
You heard sirens off in the distance, head turning towards the noise along with the man in front of you. The smaller man cursed under his breath, and the mustached one pressed his lips into a thin line.
“Looks like we’re not making a clean getaway after all, boys,” he frowned, dark eyes fixed on the men in front of him. “Rogers, Wilson, we’re taking Mr. Jennings with us.”
He glanced over at Barnes, and a second later, a firm hand wrapped around your bicep, hauling you up on your feet.
“Looks like you’re comin’ with us, Sweets,” he murmured, pressing tight against your back as he marched you forward. The crowd murmured in fear as they allowed the men to pass, and bright contrast of the sun compared to the shaded room of the bank lobby left you momentarily blind. You moved to shield your eyes, but stumbled instead as Hangman dragged you down the steps toward the sidewalk. A hand rested on your waist, steadying you.
“Don’t worry, I got you,” he murmured into your ear as he made his way briskly down the street, the sound of the sirens growing louder as the pace quickened. Your heart hammered away in your chest, your breath coming out in quick pants as your group rounded the street corner. You took two more quick turns before being led down a back alley. You could hear shouting from a couple of streets down, and you moved to look over your shoulder before the hand on your arm jerked you.
“Eyes forward, Sugar,” Barnes warned, blue eyes boring into you. You clenched your jaw, nostrils flaring as you stared him down. His lips twitched into the hint of a smile before pulling you further into the alley. You watched as the mustached man and Wilson moved to open one of the rusted garage doors, revealing a shiny, black car and a younger man leaning against the hood.
“It’s about time,” he groused, pushing off of the hood and rounding to the driver side door. The mustached man rolled his eyes before jerking his head, watching as Rogers and Wilson rounded the back with the bags. The sound of a crack along with a grunt and thud drew your attention back towards the remaining man. Mr. Jennings was on the ground, still breathing but clearly unconscious. The man looked up at Barnes before gesturing towards you, and your body stiffened in his hold. Barnes whirled you around, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you flush against him, your hands trapped between your bodies as he smirked down at you.
“Well, Doll,” he sighed, leaning into you once more, “this is where we part, I’m afraid. Don’t worry, though. I’ll leave you something to remember me by.”
Before the words could register, his lips were on yours. You gasped at the suddenness of it, eyes wide and body unmoving as he pressed further into you. His lips were surprisingly soft, and you felt your cheeks warm at the realization that you enjoyed the sensation. As quickly as he kissed you, he pulled away, grinning from ear to ear. He pulled away just a hair before letting out a forlorn sigh.
“Let’s go, Casanova,” his companion called from his position by the garage door, an exasperated look on his face as he dipped into the car. A hand brushed against your cheek, drawing your attention back to the man in front of you.
“Sorry about this, dollface,” he muttered. Your lips had just begun to form a question before a sharp pain radiated from the blow to your temple, the world falling into oblivion around you.
A/N: As always, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! And you can always come chat with me about my stories in my inbox!
If you would like to receive notifications on when I post, please follow my sideblog ( @arcanevagabond-library ) and turn on post notifications! As always, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated. You can find all of my works on AO3 under the username arcane_vagabond. Until next time!
You come from a poor, merchant family, and the eldest son of the king is now looking for a wife (or at least…his father and his advisors are looking for him). You sign up to compete to become his bride, not because you have silly notions of falling in love with the prince, but because winning means money and status for your family, and you think about how hungry your younger siblings are. At the very least, ranking high in the competition will get you better marriage prospects.
When you get to the royal city, you make friends with some of the other girls, but it’s a ruthless competition. You meet a stable boy who mocks you for wanting to win the prince’s heart, but you inform him of your plan. Love is not in the cards for you, but you meet this stable hand every week, if not every day. You both start to fall in love, but you deny it for as long as possible because you can NOT fall in love with a stable hand, and the competition grows fiercer every day. Little do you know, that stable hand is actually the prince in disguise, come to observe the competition.
Summary: The Great Depression wasn't called a depression for nothing. Jobs were scarce, and the price of food and other necessities were rising higher and higher with each passing day. What little money you were able to make went straight to the bank and out of reach from your booze-swilling lech of a brother. It's on one such run that you come face to face with members of the infamous Avengers Gang; a group of, admittedly handsome, men who steal from the banks to hand it back out to the poor. You want nothing to do with them, but that brown-headed devil might just have something to say to the contrary. (1930s!Mobster!AU)
Content Warning: Mentions of alcohol, Allusions to alcoholism, Death of parents, Pessimism, Historical Inaccuracies probably. I think that's it, but please let me know if I missed something!
Word Count: Just under 1.2k
Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist
Light filtered through the sheer curtains, casting shadows across the walls as your eyes slowly fluttered open. There was a stillness in the air that was all too familiar for those that lived as far out of the city as you did, nestled in the trees that scattered the farmland surrounding your home. You heard the shrill chirping of the birds as you adjusted back to life in the waking world, stretching with a grunt as you glanced over at the clock sitting on your nightstand.
It was still early, something you both lamented and thanked the lord for. You had things to do today, things that would require you to sneak past your brother who had undoubtedly passed out on the couch once more after a night of drinking himself silly. He had been like that before your parents passed, one of the many things he and your father had in common.
It had been only a couple of years since your father died, leaving your brother his illegal business of moonshining - a business you had been a part of at one point before finding other means of making money. Your father hadn’t been too keen on the idea at first, always commenting on how you seemed to have a special touch with the liquor, earning you your nickname of Moonshine or Moonie for short.
He had accepted it in stride, though. Especially when he saw the amount of your first earnings as a part-time photographer for the local paper. The camera had been a gift from a family friend, having purchased it for his son who quickly let it fall to the wayside as other pursuits caught his interests.
“Shouldn’t go to waste,” he had said, handing it to you with a small smile on his usually stern face. “Here, Moonie. You should have it.”
You had felt wrong taking it at first, but the feeling quickly left you once you held your first photo in your hand, your brother having saved up enough to set up a makeshift room for you to develop them in. That was before he started sampling his own product, of course.
“These are really good, Moonie!” Jack had grinned as he held a particularly stunning shot of a doe you had encountered in the back field one morning. She had turned to face you, and that’s when you had taken the shot, just before she ran back into the safety of the woods. You were particularly proud of that shot, but you ducked your head down in humility.
“They’re not that good,” you mumbled shyly.
You smiled wistfully at the memory before letting out a sigh as you pulled yourself up out of the comfort of your bed. You were quick to tidy up, fluffing the pillows before marching down the hall towards the bathroom. The sound of snoring echoed from your brother’s room, and you snorted in surprise at the change, but continued on.
After relieving yourself, you washed up, grimacing at your reflection in the mirror. Most girls your age had a whole counter full of makeup, but you simply couldn’t see the need for it, or justify it for that matter. No, you were saving up what little you could to make your escape. You weren’t sure where you’d go yet. New York perhaps? You’d heard there was always an opportunity for someone there. The thought of making your way in the growing city sent your stomach fluttering, and you clapped your hands against your cheeks to settle your mind.
There was no time for daydreaming. You had to focus on the task at hand. You were able to squirrel some of your earnings away from your brother’s greedy hands, and you made weekly deposits into a private bank account. People had been weary of the banks since the crash a few years back, but you trusted them more than your snooping older brother. Work had been hard for people to come by, but people were always looking for a photographer. So for now, non-essentials like makeup would have to wait.
You dressed quickly, double checking to make sure your camera was tucked away in your messenger back alongside your rainy day fund, and set out only to stop short at the sight of the living room.
Bottles were strewn all about the place along with cards scattered alongside them. Letting out a heavy sigh, you dropped your bag down onto one of the chairs as you set about cleaning the place up. You were surprised that the noise of what was surely many men hadn’t woken you up. You had had a long day, though. The fresh wad of bills sitting in your bag proof of that.
The bottles clanked together as you gathered up as many as you could, taking them out to be washed later. Coming back inside, you glanced over to observe the state of the kitchen, the sight having a growl leaving your throat before you could stop it. Plates were stacked high in the sink, and you knew you’d have to take care of them now lest they stink up the place for the rest of the day. The last thing you needed to deal with was unwanted pests in your home.
You actually enjoyed doing the dishes, if you were being honest. It was time to let your mind wander, plotting your way out without being disturbed. No one wanted to be drawn in to helping, of course. So you washed and scrubbed in silence as the noise outside picked up with the late morning. You wouldn’t get to the bank until this afternoon, at this rate. That left little time to go snooping for your next lead, which left you more irritated than before.
You drained the sink once you were done, wiping your hands with the dishcloth with a grimace. You’d have to do laundry tomorrow. Another chore left for you to take care of.
Perhaps you wouldn’t be so quick to want to leave if it wasn’t only you holding this place together. Your brother had been your rock once upon a time, but then your mother had passed due to illness and your father followed her not long after. Of course, you had been devastated, but you took it upon yourself to be the strong one after Jack fell apart. He started drinking then. It had only been one here or there, but it quickly grew into several bottles a night, and no amount of begging would get him to stop. So you quit trying.
It had come to a head only a year ago when you came home early to find your room tossed upside down, anything of value missing along with Jack. It was a week before he came home.
You had learned your lesson, and now you bided your time until you could withdraw your money and make a break for it. The sun shone down on you as you began the trek into town, dreaming of the day you would make this journey for the last time.
A/N: We're going to try this one again, but with Bucky.
If you would like to receive notifications on when I post, please follow my sideblog ( @arcanevagabond-library ) and turn on post notifications! As always, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated. You can find all of my works on AO3 under the username arcane_vagabond. Until next time!
i love when parents used to say you’ll understand when you’re an adult and then you become an adult and you’re like ohhh i do understand. i understand that you were a weird fucking cunt. i know this because now i am a weird fucking cunt too. and i still don’t treat kids that way
