#I almost cried when he started becoming a suburban man.

[franklinsti3n]

After watching Gleaming the cube i never want to watch an action movie again. uhm..spoilers ahead kinda not really :3

WHAT DO YOU MEAN HE WAS HOLDING ONTO A SPORTS CAR GOING 60-80 MPH AND THEN SKATED UNDER A SEMI-TRUCK TO GRAB ONTO A PIZZA HUT TRUCK HIS FRIENDS WERE CARPOOLING IN. WHAT IS THIS MOVIE.

[thebadboyfanclub]

You Can Do Better (Rio x Reader)

Requested by anon, i’ve posted this for the third time and tumblr is being a fucking asshole to the point were i’m thinking of quitting this since every week I get a new way of them hiding my works. Enjoy it while it lasts

T.W. mentioning of attempted rape

(Y/n) had been Micks neighbor for a few months before the incident happened, this absolute dumpster was the only thing she could afford at the time, fresh out of college, in a foreign country without any family, but she was hoping to moving quickly. However, when Mick was coming home, he heard her screams and cries for help from the bottom of the stairs, he had seen her once or twice, even baked him cookies when he first moved in, she was nice and a quiet neighbor. 

He found (y/n) being held down by two men in masks and one of them try to rape her, she was begging and screaming, he almost acted on instict when he shot the guy in the back, the other tried to attack him and he also ended up with a bullet in between his eyes. (Y/n) thanked him and Mick had to stop her from calling the police. Instead they called Rio. He was met with two dead bodies, A girl in her torn pajamas shaking and crying and Mick trying to calm her down.

“Those motherfuckers”

Was all he said, it didn’t take a genius to figure out what had gone down, Rio was a criminal and balls deep in despicable things, yet he was proud to say he had never laid hands on a woman nor a child. He kneeled in front of her, took a good look at her eyes, her entire body shaking as she looked at him, you could sense the trauma she had been through.

Rio had heard of her when Mick told him about this little girl next door that baked him cookies as a welcoming gift, he recalled how his friend laughed when he mentioned that the girl asked him his opinion about the next tattoo she wanted to get. Now this happy light hearted girl was replaced because two men thought they are superior.

“Hi sweetheart, I understand this is hard, we will take care of everything alright? You trust us?”

“I had locked the door, I was sleeping”

“I know sweetheart, it wasn’t your fault. We’ll take care of you ok?”

“Thank you”

-

Since Mick had vouched for her and Rio had seen her at her worst they felt obligated to take her under their wings, maybe even help her earn a little more money, get a good car, pay her bills comfortably, that sort of stuff. Until one day she asked to do more, get initiated

“Mama this isn’t the playground, we ain’t playing cops and robbers”

“I know, but you said I am learning quickly, why not teach me more?”

“Why you wanna do this? All of a sudden you feel like being a gangster? You were shaking in your shoes a few months ago”

“I’m done being your little child Rio, I want to hold my own. I will do this with or without you”

Rio looked at her with a serious face. She was growing, becoming fearless, ruthless, he had seen it coming, she was picking up more slack, asking more questions, she wanted to prove herself.

“You’re threating me mama?”

“And what if I am?”

She quickly not only proved herself, she became one of his most valuable members, she was his secret weapon, nobody would suspect a young little hotel receptionist being linked to them. She worked twice as hard and smarter than most if not all his men, advised him wisely and was always cool, calm and collected, she worked best under pressure. Scared little (y/n) felt like had never even happened, she was his soldier now, she had Micks status and Mick couldn’t be more proud, he had a soft spot for her.

“Hey mister policeman, Have some room for another criminal?”

She joked as she leaned at the door of her car, waiting for the new little boy toy to get out of the police station. Now the normal question is why is (y/n) around a police man, there is a two part answer to that. Great lover and also great cover, she was his little thing, so nobody would dare blame you for any crime, the girl of the police man being a gangster? it sounded like a joke.

“Depends on what crime we are talking about miss”

“I can think of a few, we can put those handcuffs to use”

As he approached her she smiled and took off her sunglasses. She looked amazing in her blue loose ripped jeans and a simple oversized white t shirt, a chain necklace around her neck and some nice rings on her fingers as her hair fell  in front of her breasts, wearing a pair of high heels to style it up.

How you doing gorgeous?”

“Oh you know, thriving and surviving. How about you, I thought you had a day off today”

“Yes but I got assigned to a new case”

“Ohhhh should I be concerned? any criminal on the loose?”

“Not really, we are trying to find a link for this Rio guy”

Jackpot, this couldn’t have gone better. She tried to contain her smile and leaned back on the door, acting like nothing had happened.

“Oh I think you’ve mentioned him before, what did he do now?”

“Lots of things but motherfucker always slips away, chief thinks he has someone on the inside”

“Like a dirty cop?”

“Yes, so he wants me to look into it”

“Look at you, leading a case... Sexy”

The guy smiled at her, he was completely fooled and hooked. She hadn’t told anyone about her plan of seducing him to get information, she didn’t need to up until this point, yet what she did not calculate was Rio seeing her outside the police station talking to a fucking cop, the outmost enemy and being all close and cozy to him, acting all buddy buddy in broad daylight.

“I’m glad you like it miss”

“There’s a lot of things I like about you baby, anyway I have to go, I have a shift to clock in to”

“I’ll see ya later?”

“Maybe. Bye handsome”

At that (Y/n) got in her car and drove away. Rio was pissed, the girl he trusted and the girl he wanted was flirting with a policeman, how could she? He trusted her, taught her everything he knew, gave her everything with generosity and she was becoming a cops whore? Of course it wasn’t just about flirting with a cop, it was flirting with someone that wasn’t him.(Y/n) was a charming woman, he found her extremely attractive and she was even better now with the confidence she had gained over time, she was a woman he craved, the woman he wanted to have on his side, a queen that could hold the keys to his kingdom. Now all this was slowly shattering, no there had to be an explanation and he couldn’t wait to hear it.

Of course he could not just appear at her workplace, she was gracious enough to arrange a room for him incognito when Beth shot him, yet they had to act like strangers so all he could do was wait for her. 

“Hey boss, sorry I’m late I had to take care of a few things”

“Like that cop friend of yours?”

She had barely closed the door of his office before he blurred it out, he had this whole plan of making her confess by herself, except when he saw her he lost control. Betrayal and confusion clouded his mind, as she stood there a bit dumbfounded for a quick moment before smirking at him.

“Stalking much?”

“I like to make sure my people are in line”

“Really? Is that why Beth is still walking around unharmed?”

He knew how much that had shook her up, (Y/n) took care of him almost as good as the doctor, she stayed with him until he fell asleep, helped him renew his bandages and anything else he needed, even though she never said it he was aware she was extremely concerned for him and he was grateful for her care, which made it even more complicated considering the fact that he was slowly becoming more addicted to her, needing and wanting more than she gave him.

“Let’s just cut to the shit, what were you doing there?”

“Talking”

“Talking? to a cop? what is this (y/n) huh?”

She sat in the chair calmly, any normal person would have either shit their pants or told him what they were planning right away. (Y/n) on the other hand found this amusing, she had grown tired of him doing things without considering the danger he was putting himself, especially when it came to Beth and the others, if it was anyone else they would have been six feet under the second Rio opened his eyes, now he had cut them in once again and had almost gotten Boss status.

 “Yes, one of your little ladies is married to a cop, what’s the issue with me talking then?”

“Last time I check you ain’t never flapped your gums to a fed”

“I don’t flap my gums Rio, I have conversations and if you really want to know he is my new boy toy. He also was the one that told me about your case, how the fuck do you think I got the information? By holding interviews?”

Rio didn’t know how to feel, she was still working for him, had used her privilege to get information for him that had saved him a lot of money, however the whole “boy toy” thing did not sit well, she liked him, she gave him her time and even though she was stringing him along, she still had him in her life.

“You did what you were supposed to do and you got rewarded, so why you still talking to him”

“Don’t start the bullshit Rio, I’m not your daughter nor your girl so why do you care who am i fucking with”

“Where’s your fucking respect to your boss (y/n)?”

“Respect? how about where’s the respect for yourself? You let the suburban moms do whatever the fuck they are doing and I’m getting shit for having sex and getting you info from the feds?”

He was pushing it, he knew that and he didn’t care, it was time to reveal his cards and she was going to do the same, whether she liked it or not. Rio leaned back on his chair, his hand rubbing his chin as he looked at her, sitting there and looking right back at him, she wasn’t lying he knew that, she had a point for the suburban moms and she had expressed her disapproval for the little thing that was going on between him and Beth. What he did not understand was if she didn’t like it cause she was a tad bit jealous or because it fucked with their money and reputation?

“You are something else you know that?”

“Yet you still question my methods, if I remember correctly I wasn’t the one that planted three bullets in you”

“You are scared of losing me mama?”

She did not respond, she just turned and looked away from him. Of course (y/n) had picked up his little flirty remarks from time to time, she would be lying to herself if she didn’t admit she had thought of how he would be in bed, how his embrace would feel, his raspy voice was enough to start fantasies enough to make a book.

“Let’s say I am, what are you scared of Rio? Why do you care who I’m sleeping with?”

“He is a cop”

“A handsome cop, I’m sure you noticed how nicely that uniform was on him, let me tell you it’s even better when he sweats”

“I don’t need to hear it”

“Why? Does it bother you Christopher?”

She raised herself from the seat and placed her hands on the desk, leaning closer to him and making her breasts show just enough as her back curved in a perfect little S, she focused in his eyes as her tongue went over her upper lip. Rio got closer to her, his hand reached her face, as he held on to the side of her head and his thumb went over the lower lip.

“You’re not for him mama”

“Why not?”

“A woman like you is not for no goody two shoes, you can do better”

“Really? like who?”

They could feel each others breaths, their faces were almost touching as they both spoke in whispers, this conversation was not meant for no one else, they didn’t even have to speak as their body language was saying everything it needed to be said. She felt her breath become more swallow, his scent was getting her a tad bit flustered and so was hers to him.

 He wanted to take her right here and then, just the idea of her naked body was enough to drive him wild, her hair was so soft he could only imagine them stuck on her face from the sweat, the most amazing part was her lips, soft and full that made his mind go wild with the need to feel them in his lips and his body, the doors to her moans.

“I can show you better than I can tell you”

“Let’s get it then boss”

[dameronology]

things we lost in the fire {obi-wan x reader}

summary: on a slow morning in tatooine, you and obi-wan reflect on how lucky you are to still have each other 

warnings: swearing, angst, mentions of death 

another obi fic based on a bastille song?? more likely than you think!! but i swear, despite, all the warnings, this isn’t going to rip your heart out completely 

enjoy,

- val xx

Things had never been darker.

The stars still shone at night, silvers and steels and greys against the canvas of the midnight sky. The sun still came up everyday - doubly so on Tatooine. You woke up every morning to the twin suns blaring down on your new home, illuminating the place with a hauntingly golden glow. For a place that seemed to be so fundamentally built on black and white beliefs - good and bad, right and wrong, light and dark - the world seemed too bright. 

The stars shone at night. The sun still came up every day. The world seemed bright - but things had never seemed darker. 

You missed the life you had - no, you didn’t just miss it. You yearned for it. You ached for it. You wanted to wake up one of these particularly hot Tatooine mornings to find everything was just a dream; that Anakin was alive, that Padme was alive, that you still had a temple to come home to. Everything you’d ever loved had been thrown into the fiery pits of Mustafar, left to burn and turn to ash. 

Well, not everything.

You still had Obi-Wan Kenobi and you thanked the stars everyday for it. 

It was clear that he was hurting too - there was always a tinge of pain in his sarcastic quips, a sense of tiredness in his eyes whenever they creased with laughter. He was doing it for you, staying strong for you. He was holding you both up - after all, helping people was all he knew. Even when he’d lost everything, that didn’t change. 

Searching for positives was hard and after desperately seeking, you’d found a few. 

You were no longer sneaking around, so you could walk hand-in-hand through the winding streets of your local market together. You could lay-in every morning, not worried about meetings or missions or operations. The pressure to be a good Jedi was off and now you could just be together. It wasn’t much - but at the same time, it was everything.

It was a warm morning on Tatooine; the suns were high in the sky, even though it was barely 7AM. You were sprawled out on your mattress, sheets tangled in your legs from where you’d kicked them off in the night. The sunlight was streaming through the cracks in the curtains, showering you in a warm glow as you lazily stretched. You rolled over on your side, eyes falling on the half-awake man next to you.

Obi-Wan’s eyes were vacantly staring at the ceilings, lids heavy with post-sleep tiredness. Having sensed that you were awake, he lazily reached a hand out towards you, covering yours where it was splayed out on the mattress. You tangled your fingers with his, lighting squeezing his hand. 

‘You’re thinking about him, aren’t you?’ You quietly murmured. 

‘Always.’ He whispered back. 

You felt that - you really felt that. Anakin was always on your mind; not Darth Vader, not the twisted, dark person he’d become. Anakin. The cocky Jedi, the one who you’d called your best friend for years. He hadn’t died in the physical sense but emotionally and mentally, he was long gone. He’d gone insane trying to protect the woman he loved and he wasn’t coming back. 

You didn’t necessarily understand. You never could, but you were able resonate with his innate desire to stop at nothing for Padme. You would have crossed the galaxy ten times over and back to protect the man you loved. The panic you felt in the moments after Order 66, not knowing if Obi-Wan had survived was going to stick with you for a long time. 

The way you held each other, after colliding into one another in the middle of a jet? The way you cried, relief washing over you despite the fact that every you’d ever known was gone? That’s when you knew that you were never going to stray away from him again. Everything you’d argued about, everything you’d ever worried about or bickered about suddenly seemed so menial. It was the peak definition of not knowing what you had until you’d almost lost it.

But you hadn’t lost him - you’d got lucky. He’d got lucky too. 

‘I miss him too.’ You said. You softly brushed a few strands of hair out of his face, your free hand still holding his. ‘And I hate to say it, but there’s nothing we can do.’

You hated having to be the voice of reason - that had always been Obi-Wan’s job. It felt like a bit of a dick move to remind him that you could never return to your former life, but reality was harsh. It was a goddamned bitch. The acceptance of the situation had hit you like a ton of bricks and you couldn’t make it any easier for Obi-Wan. You wished that you could; that you could take his pain away and turn it into something better. All you could do was guide him through it in the same way he’d done for you every time that you’d been hurting throughout the years. 

‘I know.’ Obi-Wan finally turned to look at you, a forced smile playing on his lips. ‘I can’t help but think would what have happened if-’

‘- don’t think about the ifs.’ You cut him off. ‘Try as you might but you can’t change the past.’

‘I wish I could.’

You leant forward, pressing a kiss to his cheek. ‘I know.’

With that, you shuffled out of bed, reaching down to grab a shirt. You pulled it over your head and slipped on your shoes, peaking over your shoulder at him as you did. You tried to give him a reassuring smile, but it faltered slightly. 

For once, you were trying to be the strong one. He had been your driving force for so long, the reason that you’d got out of bed in the morning. If you hadn’t had him after everything that had happened? You didn’t know where you’d be. You probably owed it to him to take the weight of everything for once.

‘I’m gonna go make some caff.’ You said.

‘I’ll be out in a moment.’

You stood up, the footsteps of your unlaced boots echoing off the walls as you headed through to the kitchen. Your dwelling was humble; big enough for both of you (and more, if that was what the future held). It felt like home for no other reason than the fact Obi-Wan was there with you. 

After assembling a semi-decent cup of caff, you kicked open your front door and headed outside. There was a small bench at the front of the house, overlooking the village ahead. The early morning sun was beating down on you, the air fresh and untainted. The day felt new - full of hope, despite everything. 

Pulling your knees up to your chest, you cupped the warm drink between your hands. The road ahead of you was still empty - most people around here were older, retired or out of employment. They didn’t rise until much later in the morning - you wished you were capable of that, but years as a Jedi had drilled early starts into your system. 

‘I don’t always think about the past.’

The sound of Obi-Wan’s voice announced his present. 

‘Yeah?’ You replied, tilting your head to face him. He was stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame. He had a cup of caff in one hand and a book in the other. ‘So what do you think about?’

‘You.’ 

Tossing the book to the doorstep with a dusty thump, the Jedi moved to take a set next to you. He reached his arm out towards you and without having to say anything, you dropped your feet to the floor and fell into his side. He pressed a kiss to your temple, hand gently carding through your hair. 

It was so domestic - so simple, so suburban and ordinary. But, behind your small gestures of affection and words of love, there were galaxies of grief. The place you were now might have seemed peaceful and quiet but the journey to get there had been anything but. Between you, you’d experienced enough loss and enough pain to last ten lifetimes. 

‘That’s a grand statement.’ You shot back.

‘A grand statement for a grand person.’

‘Oh, you always have been a sweet talker.’ You chuckled. 

‘I mean it.’ He replied. ‘I don’t say often enough how grateful I am for you.’

You peered up at him, a small sigh escaping your lips. ‘You don’t have to.’

‘I should though.’

‘And so should I.’ You shot back. ‘You have done everything for me since the day we met, Obi. I owe you so much-’

‘- you don’t owe me anything, darling.’ He softly murmured. ‘Simply staying by my side has put me in a lifetime of debt.’

You almost laughed at the thought of doing anything else. Staying with Obi-Wan had never even been a question - you were already packing your bags before he could even finish saying I’m moving to Tatooine. Neither of you had any idea where you were going, nor what you were doing. But, just like everything else, you were going to figure it out together. 

‘We’ll call it even.’ You leant up to kiss him, lips brushing against his.

‘I talk about what I’ve lost.’ He murmured, forehead resting on yours. ‘Anakin, Padme, the Jedi.’

That was the first time he’d said his name his everything had happened. It hurt - maker, it hurt - but the proud look on your face when it happened was almost enough to make it worth it. 

‘But I never talk about what I still have.’ He added. ‘You.’

‘You don’t need to talk about it.’ You shook your head. ‘I know the feeling.’

‘You do?’

‘Of course.’ You replied. ‘I think about that day all the time and all I can remember is that you were my first concern. I could only focus on finding you, on making sure that you were okay.’

‘You mean everything to me.’ Obi-Wan admitted. ‘You always have but even more so now.’

He hadn’t mean to become attached to you, even less so to indulge his addiction. Years ago, when you were both still sworn to a code, it had been hard. Choosing you over the very Order that he’d committed has life too had been a struggle - but now? He’d never been more grateful that he’d chosen you. 

‘It’s the same for you.’ You offered him a watery smile. ‘Guess we’re kinda stuck together, huh?’

‘Even if you strayed to the other side of the galaxy, we still have a Force connection.’ He reminded you. ‘So yes - I suppose we are stuck together.’

Obi-Wan was your backbone; the glue that held you together these days. It was easy to look at him as though he hung the stars in the sky - and as far as you were concerned, he did. You were living in dark times but he felt like the light at the end of the tunnel.

And, little did you know, but he felt the same. Having you by his side meant more to you than you’d ever realised. There was one specific second on the day of Order 66 that he held onto: the moment you met again, the moment that you tossed yourself towards him, not caring about whether or not he was going to catch you. That was when, despite everything, that he felt like things were going to be okay. 

The stars still shone at night. The sun still came up everyday. It felt like you were the reason why. 

tags: @cherieboba​ @valkyriesandbrokenhalos​ @cptnrex501​ @thespareoom​ 

[zenryverse]

There’s no rhyme or reason to this list, I just couldn’t sleep last night so my mind came up with some random Zenry HCs at like 4 am so I felt like sharing

- Zenry is definitely that couple that could have full times jobs and a house and bills and kids that are now teenagers but Zack comes home in the middle of the day to find the table flipped on its side with Henry crouching behind it aiming a marshmallow shooter at him and telling him he has ten seconds to run before he starts shooting and ofc Zack has a bunch stashed in random places in the house for this exact purpose

- on a related note, it’s a common occurrence for Izzy or Felix to come home and one asks the other where their parents are and the answer is “in the backyard throwing water balloons at each other” 

- the kids love it when they’re younger because they get to come home from school and make a huge mess and shoot stuff at their parents but when they become preteens/teenagers Izzy is always like “do you guys have to be so embarrassing all the time? 🙄" even though she still secretly loves it and always gets into it and Felix tries to hide how much he loves it because he doesn’t want his Cool Big Sister to think he’s lame 

- on another sort of related note, they definitely team up to embarrass the ever living shit of Izzy when she’s a teenager and when she complains and asks why they do this to her, they’re always like “it’s our job and we take it very seriously” 

- Zack randomly texts Henry after he gets home from work and is just like “come outside but be chill about it, don’t let the kids know” and Henry’s just like ???? but does it anyway and Zack gestures for him to get into the passenger seat and Zack’s clearly trying to be stealth so then Hen tries to be stealth, and once he’s in and the doors are locked, zack just pulls out a Styrofoam to-go container and two plastic forks and he hands one to Henry and when he opens the container there’s chocolate cake inside and he’s just like “there was a birthday at work, this was the last piece” and he doesn’t need to say anymore because henry knows he texted him to come out there so they could have a rare selfish moment and share it between each other because they both know if he had taken it inside, their kids would’ve sniffed it out and taken it before he was fully in the door

- (this is basically just a zack HC) but he definitely goes through a midlife crisis phase where he buys another motorcycle and wears leather jackets and ripped jeans and he starts a band that sometimes plays in his bar and his band is like semi-known in Swellview so Izzy and Fe’s friends kinda highkey think he’s really cool but Izzy and Felix are always just like 

whenever their friends start talking about how cool they think he is because this is the same man that laughs so hard at his own unfunny dad jokes that he’s in tears and he also cried at the pet store the other day because there were one of those teacup puppies and she was “too damn small for her own good” and who says some of the cheesiest shit to Henry that it makes them physically nauseous (even though they both kinda think it’s sweet too; felix more than izzy) and they also witnessed him almost total his motorcycle and severely injure himself because he tried to pop a wheelie and failed miserably 

- Izzy, whenever they start acting all lovey-dovey: that’s disgusting. You’re not supposed to do that, you’re parents! Felix: I think it’s sweet they’re still in love even though they’re all old now :)

- also unfortunately I don’t think homophobia is going to completely disappear within the next 10-15 years so there’s that one mom in the PTA that comes up with BS reasons why her kids can’t hang around Izzy or Felix but it basically boils down to her being shitty but Hen and Zack are so used to being around their friends where Cody is the only token straight (and even then, that’s iffy) so they’re just,,,,completely oblivious at first and they’re trying to come up with reasons she might not like them: “is it because Zack drives a motorcycle?” “Is it because Zack works in a bar?” “Is it because he still wears that ridiculous leather jacket even though he’s in his mid 40s?” Zack: “why are these all aimed at me????” Henry: “I own a flower shop. i drive an electric car. my entire wardrobe is jeans and flannels buttoned all the way. no one outside this house has seen my bare arms or knees in over a decade”     - but finally Izzy just tells them that it’s basically because they’re married to each other and Zack’s just like “damn. out of the list of reasons why other people might find me a bad influence around their kids, being married to my soulmate is pretty far down there.” Henry: “no, it’s not even on that list. actually, you’re a great dad and a great husband, if anything, it should be a reason why you’re a good influence” and even though Zack’s super pissed (not even because it’s against them, but purely because she’s holding it against his kids) he still lives for compliments from Henry so he’s sitting there feeling 😡🥰 simultaneously

- once Hen and Zack find out which mom it is, they definitely gossip about her like two white suburban soccer moms. Zack: “Of course it’s that bitch Lauren. She always had some backhanded comment to give about my lemon squares at the PTA meetings. My lemon squares are delicious! well, actually they’re Cody’s, but you know!!!!” 

- when they’re both at the meetings, Zack has to keep Hen from starting an actual fight with her when she makes some snide comment aimed at Zack Zack: “baby, you can’t start a brawl at a PTA meeting” Henry: “but you heard what she said!!!!” Henry, to himself, under his breath while shooting daggers at Lauren: “you’re lucky my husband’s here.” 

[theamateurblogger]

Hewwo I love your stuff. Can you do a male s/o with all them slasher boys. Hcs but if you want you can do like, Tommy for a one shot. Idc if its sfw or nsfw

Thank you!!! I hope you like this!!!

Otis Driftwood

Otis is a thirsty ass fucker, not gonna lie

From an outside perspective, it would be easy to assume that he’s only with you for the sex

But let’s be real, if he wanted just sex, he would’ve stuck to his corpses

He loves you, whether he wants to admit it out loud or not

Constantly has his arm around you or touching you in some way

Just a way to stake a claim around others (and to prevent you from running)

But deeeeep down, he does it to make sure you’re okay

Always has to keep you in his sights “to make sure you don’t do something stupid” (like run)

Hugggge exhibitionist 

Seriously. It’s an issue. So, you’ll need to get real comfortable around the rest of the family

Chop Top

Chop Top is an actual dream to be in a relationship with

Plenty of arguments about who has better music taste and who gets to pick the playlist/radio station 

Out of everyone on this list, he’d be the most likely to propose 

He’d want a full on wedding with the family watching and victims’ bones used as decor

Kind of a traditional guy (besides the whole cannibalistic and maniacal tendencies ya know)

So expect some hesitancy from him to get serious with you

His knowledge of the LGBT+ community is very slim

But let’s be real, he had some fun with his fellow soldiers during his time in the war 

When he does give in to his love for you, he is absolutely obsessed with you

He’d tell victims stories about you and compare everything to you and things you do 

He likes your ass

A lot.

Expect to have it groped, slapped, and ogled at constantly

Would probably be super into roleplay (*cough* the Sonny wig *cough*)

He’s not good at it.

Michael Myers

Michael is…Michael?

You’ll be pretty confused with this guy

He just keeps following you around and you’re not dead yet???

You become more comfortable around each other and it just turns into comfortable silence and occasional situations where you need to ask him to hand you something

You’ll have to be the first one to initiate sex

It’ll be very awkward at first because you’ll have no fucking clue whether or not he’s even into it so you’ll just stop and walk away

And he kind of just doesn’t acknowledge any of what happened??? For like a week???

You’re aggravated and confused. (Told ya)

It takes you both a long time to navigate through your relationship

It doesn’t help that you can’t just…talk it out?

It’s all trial and error, but eventually you have a pretty domesticated relationship

He’s like a cat that is gone all day but comes home to you when he wants a nap

Freddy Krueger

Much like Otis, Freddy is a nasty fuck

And it would be hard for me to believe that your relationship isn’t prodominately about sex

We all know the backstory of Fredster and he’s not afraid to take what he wants

Very little boundaries

He’d go after nearly anyone who you come into contact with

It’s like a game to him

You’d honestly have to be just as batshit crazy as this guy

He really appreciates the element of surprise

Taking a bath? Now, you’re getting raw dogged at 3am, water splashing out of the tub

Trying to take an exam or you’re waiting in line at the DMV? He’s fucking with your mind the entire time

Walking down the hallway, trying to get a glass of water? BOO! Now he’s laughing his ass off at how much of a pussy you are

Charles Lee Ray/Chucky

Chucky is genuinely kind of an asshole

And I don’t think you’d change that

Buuuuut, that’s kind of what attracts most people to him right?

He’s kind of new to these feelings toward you

And it really fucks with his ego

Internalized homophobia anyone?

It’ll take time and patience for this guy

But I think it’ll be worth it in the end

He’d steal you all kinds of cool stuff

Plus, Chuck’s a total switch and I think it’d be fun to finally take him down a peg in the bedroom

Bubba Sawyer

Such a sweet baby

Please don’t ever hurt him

Bubba would bring you flowers and little trinkets he made from bone constantly

When he first meets you and wants to impress you, he makes sure to fix up his mask realll nice with his favorite lipstick and wears his best clothes

Even now that you’re his, he still just wants to make you happy and make sure that you know he’s putting in effort because he cares ya know?

Constantly needs reassurance from you

As much as he likes giving you affection and gifts, he nearly cries when you do those things for him!!!

Please spoil that man!

Loooves listening to music! Chop Top, Bubba, and you almost always spend your nights together listening to the radio

From everything I’ve read online as well as some choice scenes from the movies, I’m a full believer in the fact that not only is Bubba 100% pan and open to alllll kinds of lovin’, but he also has the biggest oral fixation known to mankind!!!

Thomas Hewitt

Thomas is a very different man than Bubba

He’s more rough with you and has full knowledge of what he’s doing

Definitely knows his size and will pick you up whenever he pleases

At the end of the day, he makes the rules

Doesn’t mean you can’t persuade him to do things that you want to do though

You’ll just have to make it up to him so he won’t be in a foul mood

Is a bit awkward with things

Especially around his family

I’ve said this already but Thomas definitely grabs things off of victims that he thinks you’d like!!!

Will probably try to wrap the items up! Will probably fail!

Nubbins Sawyer

Nubbins is such a cutie!!!

He loves you so much

I’ve said this before too, but Nubbins would definitely have a box full of photos he took of his S/O

He treasures them the absolute most

You know those little cute polaroid walls? He def has one of pictures of you and him

He’s also the most likely out of all the slashers to have a Pride flag hung up

He’s also an absolute handful.

Expect to wake up alone pretty often, because this dude just wants to take impromptu trips throughout Texas allllll the time

Sometimes you go with though

As he picks up cool roadkill from the side of the road, you pick up cool plants and maybe a lizard

As far as sex goes, he’s an absolute goof

He’s just so excited to have someone who wants to do these things with him

Lots of laughter

The Collector

Definitely a bit of a strange one

Literally. Stranger danger.

He first met you at a wildlife museum

And he just kept following you around

He even started targeting people that looked like you?

He just wanted the body parts to add to his collection

Without having to ruin the original

Eventually, he would kidnap you and lock you in his own personal “museum”

He’d show you his pieces every time he completed one

He’d bring you your favorite foods though which is nice

Then he’d watch you from the security cam he set up in your room

Brahms Heelshire

Such a needy boi

He likes to watch you

Secretively, in the walls

Orrr just sitting across from you, cross legged

You could be changing or you could be reading/watching TV

It doesn’t matter.

He’s always so infatuated by you

I really wish I could get behind the idea that Brahms is a huge sub and would call you daddy

But I just can’t???

He likes to have control.

There’s no way he’d want to give that up

You essentially have to trick him into doing anything around the house

So enjoy being his slave

The Other 

I guess this kind of depends on how far your relationship has been established

You probably started off as neighbors or maybe just acquaintances that ran into each other at the grocery story every once in awhile

I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say that he appreciates a good age gap and has more than enough experience with the opposite sex *wink* 

def a bi boi

His attraction to you didn’t go far beyond sexual at first, but then he seen how well you interacted with his daughter and that’s what broke him

I swear it’s like he has two personalities

When he’s out with you and your guys’ daughter, he’s a typical suburban husband/dad

Has a retirement plan, pays the bills, works his ass off in an average blue collar job, drinks beer with the bois and complains about your nagging

Also brags about how good you are to him and has no shame in his game

Purely domestic

But then??? When it’s just you two, it’s like a switch goes off where he doesn’t need to put on the act

He controls every aspect of you and your body; much like Brahms, he won’t be able to give up his control

He’s an absolute dom

Christian Grey ain’t got shit on what’s in his garage.

[bangtan-gal]

Ruin Me (M)

H.hj

Mafia!au

Warnings: smut, angst, not really much fluff, pain kink, corruption kink, dom!hyunjin, sub!reader Mentions of death, drugs (not much), somebody gets burned by a cigar oops 

Word Count: 2.6k

Garrapata.

    The corridor was crepuscular and damp; the walls were made of a rough stone and the few light bulbs cast an orange hue and flickered in and out of existence. You leaned up against the rock, struggling to light a cigarette. You finally managed to connect the flame with the tobacco and watched as the white roll sparked to life. Puffs of smoke curled around you as you picked at your nails. 

Tocado.

Five cigarettes later, there was finally a sign of someone else. A bright white flashlight ran along the walls and you raised a hand to your eyes as it shone over you. You dropped the blunt—barely a third of it gone—and crushed it under your heel. Your brother, Baekhyun, approached you silently with two younger men following behind him. His hair, just recently dyed a sandy blonde, looked like a flame as the light bounced off it. 

His brow raised as he glanced down at the six butts that littered around your feet. He met your bored stare again and then let out a snort. You ignored him as you glanced past to the men with him. One was just barely taller than your brother, his dark brown hair parted down the side. The other was around the same height, his hair a gleaming red. 

“I didn’t know you smoked,” he commented, nose wrinkling at the smell that clung to you. 

You shrugged. “I didn’t know that you were a gang leader until a couple months ago.”

Mentiroso.

    The tall man’s eyebrow raised and his lips quirked into a smirk. He was gorgeous, even in this dim lighting. You could see the outline of a cross that hung from his ear and the sparkles of many other piercings. He wasn’t buff—more tall and lean—but the outline of a gun that hid under his shirt was enough to have you shivering. 

You and your brother didn’t share anymore words as he wrapped an arm around your shoulder and guided you down tunnel. You silently counted every time your boot splashed into a puddle or when a drop of frigid water fell onto you. Baekhyun had refused to meet you outside in broad daylight. He’d given you an address, where you met a fake taxi and were driven to this nasty tunnel. You were instructed to take seven hundred medium steps into tunnel and then wait for your brother. 

His cautiousness wasn’t the old sibling you remember. Baekhyun used to be the reckless one; dragging you out at midnight, jumping off cliffs, and getting in fights with anyone that looked at him or you too long. Seeing this side of him was so odd: he was always expected to get into trouble, but this kind of trouble? This trouble where you couldn’t be stupid and had to actually stop and think? Last thing you’d expect.

Demasiado diferente. 

After he graduated from college, you never saw him again. Your father had died when you were six and he was fourteen. Your mother developed lung cancer eight years later and died just a couple months ago. You weren’t sad: you were never close with either of your parents. The most shocking thing of this whole event was your brother willingly taking you under his wing so you could go to college and get a degree. 

Your feet started to ache tremendously as you neared the end of the tunnel. It was dark outside, a complete contrast to the sunshine you’d seen when you entered this hell hole. A sleek, silver BMW waited for the four of you. A man, wearing a low baseball cap, sat in the driver’s seat. Baekhyun sat in the passenger seat and as you slid into the backseat, you found yourself between the two men. Red hair was silent as he laid his head against the window and you noticed a scar that ran through his eyebrow. 

It was Mr. Blacky that was giving you trouble. His hand rested on your thigh, the cold metal of his rings felt even through your jeans. He was looking out the window, pretending like he wasn’t two inches away from your core, but you could see the small smirk. Frustration roiled through you and you couldn’t tell if it was pure or sexual. 

“Is there a reason I had to come live with you, dear brother?” You piped up, shifting your legs so that Mr. Blacky’s hand fell away. “I mean, mom and dad’s house was paid off, couldn’t I just stay there and you pay for college? I love living in that big, scary house all alone.”

Of course you were biting at him. You were glad he allowed you to live with him, but you yearned for answers. Where had he been all these  years? He didn’t even show up at mom’s funeral and didn’t contact you until two months after her death. You’d been alone for all those months. In that huge-ass, dark, creaky house. 

Muy solitario. 

There were probably ghosts that were waiting to feed on your soul.

Baekhyun didn’t give you the honor of his response.

“I was neomu lonely, Bak,” you grumbled, playing with the string bracelet on your wrist. You heard him shift, his expensive-ass leather jacket squeaking against the custom leather seats. 

“Did you keep up with your Korean lessons?” He asked, slowly shifting the subject.

You frowned. “No. I dropped it and took Spanish.”

Silencio. 

“I’ll have you know that I actually got an award on my spanish. Top of my class. My spanish teacher gave a speech at my graduation. I can speak it fluently. I could probably move to Spain or Mexico—never come back,” you rambled. Baekhyun always hated your ranting and how you had this weird ability to go on and on about the most stupid shit. He deserved thirty hours worth of pointless rambling. “I’ve actually been thinking of taking French. Maybe I could become a professional translator; wouldn’t that be cool? I could travel the world, talk to the locals—OOOO I could run, like, a travel critic blog. Muy bien!” 

You clapped your hands.

“You didn’t mention how fucking annoying she was,” Baseball Cap spoke up. His voice was deep and gravelly.

“This is her way of taking her anger out on me.”

You felt like a scolded child as you sat there. That was the one thing you’d always hated about your brother: his ability to make you shut up with some simple statement. He knew you too well, he knew exactly what got under your skin. He knew how to make you feel stupid or childish and as the years went by, he only got better at it. 

And so, you went silent for the rest of the ride.

☁☁☁☁☁☁

It took you less than a week to learn the rules of the house. Baekhyun told everyone what to do and they all listened. It was rough, nearly impossible for you, your inner self always begging to challenge him. But Baekhyun made it clear he wouldn’t treat you any differently just because the same blood pumps through your hearts. You learned that when he dragged you to a windowless room and let you sit there all night without any dinner.

    You also had to sit through the embarrassing “Off Limits” meeting. It was an hour long talk where Baekhyun repeatedly reminded his men and women that you were untouchable. If anyone so dare as look at you for more than a second, their heads would be ripped off and guts shoveled into a meat grinder. You never agreed to it, but here you were, alone and untouched.

Que divertido.

    You poked at your dinner, staring boredly at the wall. Baekhyun was gone, along with almost everybody, so you were left alone with Mr. Blacky. In other words: Hwang-fucking-gorgeous-Hyunjin. The boy with his stupid teasing smiles, little smirks, and eyebrow raises would not leave you alone. He was older than you by barely a month, but you’d never guess by the way he held himself like the king of the world.

He was a more handsome, younger version of Baekhyun.

And it sucked. 

    If you had known the Baekhyun was trying to turn his men into multiple versions of himself, you would’ve thrown yourself out a window. Hell, you would’ve flipped off the mysterious mailman who delivered the letter you got two weeks ago. This wasn’t fun, this was suburban. 

“So, you’re the royal babysitter?” You asked, looking up at Hyunjin. He sat on the counter, scrolling through his phone and not sparing you a single glance as he answered.

“Sure.”

“You’re barely older than me,” you pouted, “I don’t need a babysitter.”

    He held up the pack of cigarettes he had confiscated from you not even five minutes ago. You watched, your mouth watering, as he shook the packet at you. There was the other rule: no smoking. Or at least not for Y/N or around Y/N. Everyone else constantly smelled like weed and tobacco, but you would never see the drugs again in your life.

“Didn’t you try to leave last time you were alone?”

He spoke about the event as if it wasn’t yesterday. 

“I’m the leader’s younger sister! Don’t you think I deserve some form of special treatment?” You cried, shoving your plate away from you. The boy looked up, watching as the china skittered to the other side of the table before peacefully stopping.

Maldita. 

    You stood up, letting the chair clatter around the shiny tiles. Your feet stomped against the floor as you marched towards the boy. A slap ran through the room as you slammed your hands down on his knees, eyes narrowing as you looked up at him. You leaned forward until your faces were mere inches apart.

“I’m not a child.”

“Then why do you act like one?”

    Then he smiled, and there was something about it that was so wrong and so right at the same time. It was sadistic and perfect. Ice shards and fire blazed through your body as a craze lit up his eyes. He tilted his head at you, his hand coming up to run along your cheek and then over your brow bone. 

“You say you want special privileges?” He hummed. His thumb moved down and ran along your lips. Your mouth slowly opened, an ache starting in your core as he slipped the digit in. His knees tightened around your body and he brought your mouth to his.

    You weren’t sure what you were expecting. The taste of weed and addiction? Something bitter? Instead, he tasted like smarties and you could feel his chapped lips pressed against yours. He gripped your chin tightly in his hand as he easily slipped his tongue into your mouth. Your straightened up, moaning into his mouth as his other hand came up to tighten around your throat. 

    He pulled back for barely a second, inhaling sharply before his lips crashed onto yours again. You whimpered, letting your hands slide up his legs and rest on his upper thighs. Your thumbs rubbed circles on his inner thigh and you didn’t miss the way he bucked up into your touch. Hyunjin nipped teasingly at your lips and then pulled back.

    His mouth moved achingly slow along your jaw and then he moved to your ear. Pain laced through your body and pleasure ran to your core as he teeth dug into the upper part of the shell. The soft moan you let out pulled one from him and his grip tightened on your neck. 

“You know,” he whispered into your ear, “you act like such a big, bad girl, but I bet you’ve never had a true taste of danger, hmmm? Do you want it? How badly baby?”

    You panted, eyes slowly meeting his dilated ones as he pulled back and stared at you. It took only one fluid movement for him to hop off the counter, spin you around, and bend you over the marble. Gasps and whimpers of excitement started to leave you. 

Placer y dolor. 

    You felt Hyunjin’s bulge press against your thigh as he ran his hand down your spine. Tingles raced through you and shivered in anticipation. The boy’s desperation bled through as he reached for your yoga pants. He pulled them down quickly, taking your panties with it. He ran his index finger down your folds and then a soft chuckle left him.

“I bet you’re tight too, baby,” he mused. You listen to the sound of him unbuckling his jeans and the sound of them hitting the floor. There’s the soft sound of skin rubbing against skin as he pumps himself out. You lean forward, eyes closing. 

    Hyunjin completely sinks into you in one go. A loud groan escapes you—he stretches you out painfully and deliciously and it’s addicting. His forehead rests against your back and there’s a few moments where he just silently gasps. Then he starts moving.

His thrusts are rough. His fingers dig into your thighs as he hitches you up even higher. Your gasps and his grunts fill the room as his hips smack against your ass. You’re soaked; slurping noises filling the room because of your pussy. His cock continues to hit your g-spot repeatedly and your eyes start to roll into the back of your head.

“Fuck, I could ruin you,” he gasps out, “and no one would ever know. Shit, baby, shit.”

Arruinarme. 

“Just as tight as I thought.”

Arruinarme.

    You felt your high approaching and you unconsciously clenched around him, silently begging for him to finish with  you. And then just as you’re there, just as you feel the beginning of the flashes, he pulled out. You hold still, too shocked to whine or look back. 

Then you hear the all time familiar sound.

Tsssst. 

    You peeked over your shoulder, eyes widening as you watch him light a cigarette. Hyunjin meets your gaze and grins, something broken and psychotic hanging in the depths of his orbs. You watch as he takes a slow puff and then presses a kiss to your neck, the smoke filling the air around the two of you. 

Arruinarme. 

“You can take it baby, whether you want to or not,” he said. 

    Part of you knows what he’s about to do, but the hazy part of your brain refuses to keep up. Then you feel it, a quick jump of pain. You hissed, your head falling against your forearms as the cigarette is pressed to your thigh. You smell it—it’s so subtle, but it’s there—the smell of your own flesh, burning. He pulls it back and you stiffen as you prepare yourself for the next tap. He presses it to your other thigh and this time you let out a loud whimper. Pleasure comes with the pinch this time and your eyes flutter shut. 

“Such a whore, aren’t you?” He laughs.

Then he throws the blunt in the sink and sheaths himself inside you again. His pace picks up, almost as if he never stopped. It barely takes a few seconds for you to finish, your fingers digging into the counter as you tighten around him. Hyunjin grunts and he thrusts harshly through his own orgasm. His seed spills into you and down your legs as he continues to fuck it into you. 

Arruinarme. 

Then he pulls back, letting you breathe. You do, taking in big gulps of air, your legs shaking, and eyes fluttering shut. He lights another cigarette and hands it to you. You accept graciously, puffing on it. The smoke fills the kitchen as the boy helps you back into your pants and then pulls up his own. He runs a hand through his dark hair and then winks at you.

A swirl of smoke surrounds your head as he walks out. 

You hum to yourself.

“Arruinarme.”

[captainscanadian]

Happy Endings | Steve Rogers x OFC Marilyn Jarvis

My Masterlist

Summary: Marilyn Jarvis was not only Tony Stark’s goddaughter but also the love of Steve Rogers’ life.            

Word Count: 4995

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Marilyn Jarvis (and a bunch of others as minor characters!)

Warnings: Endgame References (set 2 years after), Mentions of Death

A/N: I usually don’t write fics with an OFC but since @artisticrogers1972​ was having a bad day, I had to write this one! This is my first ever Steve Rogers fic but I hope there’s more where that came from. Also, this is my first non-AU so that’s exciting! I hope you all like it... if you don’t I’m so sorry it’s shit! I don’t own any of the gifs or pics!

Hey Marilyn, did ya have an affair with JFK or not?!

This had been her whole life. Being named after a Hollywood sex symbol was bad enough as it is, but it was the constant teasing that she had had to endure during her teens to her adulthood that she could not bear. It was as though her name came with a certain blueprint that she had to live her life by. Her petite frame was nothing compared to the body type that her namesake had made famous and with all the boys in high school making fun of her for her name and her body, she found herself become rather quiet and reserved over the years. But she could care less about whether she was popular in high school or not. It did not matter to her.

Marilyn Jarvis often wondered if her grandfather had secretly loathed her when he had decided to give her that name. Had Edwin Jarvis even considered the legacy behind her name or that his adoptive son’s only child would eventually go on to live in the twenty-first century? If anything, Mari believed that the man had cursed her by naming her after the actress. But why he did it? She had no idea.

But there was one thing that she was grateful for. While her first name had caused her a hell of a lot of distress, her family name meant a great deal to her. She knew that she was not a Jarvis by blood, as her father had been adopted by Edwin and Ana Jarvis as a young boy. But being a Jarvis meant that her family’s ties with the Starks had been strong enough to withstand any threat in the world.

Her grandfather took extreme pride in his loyalty to Howard Stark and the Starks had always kept him in high regard. When Mari was born, her father had made Tony Stark her godfather. She was an honorary Stark as much as she was a Jarvis, but she was a lot different from the two families who had raised her.

While Tony Stark had certainly fulfilled his duties as a godfather after her parents had tragically passed away, ensuring that Mari had a large amount of money deposited into her college fund by the time she was only in middle school, and had bought her a car for her birthday when she was old enough to drive, she had always been hesitant about accepting the privilege that came with being his goddaughter. She preferred to live a simple life, compared to the lavish life that he had to offer. She had certainly accepted Tony’s gracious offer to pay for her to go to college though. After all, she was a studious kid and she certainly took after her Uncle Tony in that.

She had been at MIT when Tony had left to Afghanistan, just a few months from graduating when she had heard the news that her godfather had been kidnapped. By the time he had built himself that suit and busted out of that cave, Mari had convinced Happy Hogan to fly her home in time to see him. She had cried the whole night before Tony had convinced her to fly back to school to take her final exams.

“I’m alright, Little Jarvis. Go and sit your exams and you can come back home right after you graduate.” He had told her and taking his word for it, she had left for Boston after spending barely a day with him.

Once she had graduated from MIT, Tony had offered Mari a job at Stark Industries. But of course, wanting a simple life and steering as far away from nepotism as she possibly could, she had chosen to find herself a job on her own in New York. She wanted nothing more than a simple life, a life away from war and villainy, a nine-to-five job, maybe a family of her own and a suburban home, white picket fence and all. But nothing about Marilyn Jarvis’ life could ever be that normal. After all, she was Iron Man’s goddaughter.

“Welcome home, Mari.” Happy Hogan greeted the young women as she exited the Stark Industries Private Jet.

“It’s good to see you, Happy.” She gave him a polite smile as she raised her eyebrow slightly at him. “I must say, I really love the blip beard. Giving Tony a run for his money, are you?”

The man chuckled softly as he took her bags and loaded them into the truck. “Something like that.”

“Does this something have to do with a certain young superhero’s aunt?” Mari asked him cheekily, to which he rolled his eyes.

“Tony can’t keep his mouth shut, can he?”

“I’m happy for you.” She told him as she got into the limo. “I think everyone deserves to have their happy endings after everything that they’ve been through.” Except for Marilyn Jarvis, apparently it seemed. The world had changed so much since Thanos had showed up and going back to how things were before him was just not plausible.

Marilyn had suffered just as much as anyone else, having almost lost her godfather for the umpteenth time in her life in that final battle. How Tony had managed to sustain his injuries was a miracle but she was grateful for it. After all, he was the only family that she had left.

When he had woken up in the hospital, having suffered permanent arm damage due to the impact of the Infinity Stones, he had still put on a brave face for her and given her a weak smile, the same way he had done that night when he had come home from Afghanistan. “Hey, Little Jarvis... you’re not gonna believe it. When I went back in time, I saw my dad, your great-uncle Howard. I mean, I don’t think you would remember much of him because you were quite little when he passed away but... I also... happened to... see your granddad Jarvis. I mean, I didn’t get to speak to him because I was running low on time... okay, not the best moment for a joke but... anyways, I saw him... and all I could think of was... God, how proud he would have been... if he got to see his little Marilyn grow up to be this... smart, kind, beautiful young woman. He would have been so proud of you, Mari.”

That was the moment when she had broken down in tears, pulling his weak body into a tight embrace as she cried. “You’re not almost dying on me again, you hear me? I can’t live with the fear of losing you again, Tony. I’ve lost everyone and I can’t lose you too.” And that had been the end of Iron Man.

Two years had passed since that dreadful day. Tony had recovered and moved onto training a newer generation of Avengers. The rest of the heroes had returned to their respective lives. Marilyn had found herself in California with a job promotion and no social life whatsoever. The only instances she ever took time away from work was during the holidays, as Tony had given her a strict order that she must drop whatever she was doing and return to the Avengers’ Base in New York to celebrate Christmas. She could never say no to that.

So, there she was, in the back of a Stark Industries limo that was driving to Upstate New York. It had started to snow as Happy was pulling up through the gates of the compound. As Mari stepped out of the limo, she held out her hand as a fuzzy little snowflake landed on her palm. One thing sunny California could never give her was the joy of being able to play in the snowfalls of New York.

As she entered the base, FRIDAY the AI had informed Tony of her arrival.

“Just in time for Christmas Eve lunch.” The man had beamed as his beloved goddaughter had made her way towards the common kitchen.

With Pepper and May Parker keeping busy with the cooking, Tony and Rhodey were seated at the table, sharing a drink and chatting away. On the other side of the room, Peter Parker and Harley Keener were playing around with Little Morgan Stark. These people were her family now, even though none of them were related to her by blood. It was not blood that ever determined family though. It was the people who choose to be a part of her life. Tony had really made sure Mari had a family after she had lost hers.

Morgan wiggled out of Peter and Harley’s grip as she noticed her arrival and ran over to Marilyn in excitement. “Mari!” She exclaimed as she jumped into her arms.

“Hey, kiddo!” Marilyn let out a hearty laugh as she hugged the young Stark before waving over at the boys. “How’s MIT treating you boys?”

“Don’t even ask.” Peter let out a groan, making Harley roll his eyes.

“We’re handling it, Mar.”

Mari couldn’t help but let out a hearty laugh as she set Morgan down and walked over to give Tony a kiss on the cheek. “I missed you, old man.” She told him with a playful grin before greeting Rhodey as well.

“Missed you too, Little Jarvis.”

“How’s California treating you, Mari?” Rhodey asked as he took a sip of his drink.

Marilyn thought for a moment before responding with a shrug. “Well, it’s a lot warmer... and it’s where my grandparents used to live so, I can’t really complain.”

“But it’s not home, is it?” May asked her as she pulled the roast out of the oven and set it on the counter.

“No.” She replied, shrugging once more. “But the job’s great. At least, I’m getting paid a lot more than I used.”

Pepper turned around to look at her niece with an eye roll. “Honey, you do realize that I’m waiting for the day you would walk into my office and tell me that you’re ready for me to sign over my company. Just say the word and Stark Industries is all yours. You don’t have to worry about living alone in the other side of the country for the sake of making money.”

“And why would I do that when you’re a much better CEO than I could ever be, Pep?” She asked her, chuckling. “Honestly, Cali’s great. I really love it there.”

Marilyn wasn’t sure if she was being honest with herself when she had said that. Sure, California had always held a very special place in her heart. Her grandparents had lived at the Stark residence there for years. It was where her father had been born and adopted. There was a lot of significance to where she lived. But did it make her happy? She could not be so sure about that. After all, she did not know what made her happy anymore.

Long before the events of the Infinity War and Thanos, she had once envisioned a future with a man she had met at one of her uncle’s parties. But there was no way that this future would even be possible. He was a man of every woman’s dreams, a true gentleman at heart. Anyone would have fallen for the charms of Steven Grant Rogers if they had met him. Marily was no exception to that. Their relationship had been a short-lived one, perhaps some sort of a summer fling before all hell had broken loose.

Marilyn knew it was wrong but she could not help it. She had been drunk and he had been a gentleman, trying to drag her to the guest bedroom after a party. A drunken kiss should not have meant anything, right? But her confession of having a crush on him had led to a completely different story. They had gone behind Tony’s back to pursue a relationship, fearing that the knowledge of the two of them together would ever cause a drift between Tony and Steve. But said drift had been caused either way, thanks to the Accords. Even Mari had been put in a place where she had to decide where her allegiance was. As she had chosen her godfather’s side in a heartbeat, the star spangled man had retaliated by ending their relationship just as quickly.

A heartbroken Marilyn had found herself sitting by her great-aunt Peggy’s grave in London before Tony had found her and flew her back to New York. Even then she hadn’t told him about what Steve had done. She had known that it would only make things worse between the two of them.

While Captain America and his allies were on the run, Marilyn had continued to live at the compound with Tony. Not even once did the man whom she had fallen in love with try to contact her during those two years. She hadn’t even seen him again until after the events of the Infinity War, while Tony had been lost in space for three weeks. Not even then did Steve speak to her or try to offer her some comfort in the absence of her godfather. Mari understood why though, after all he had lost his best friends during the snap. But either of them could look at each other. Perhaps things could never get better between the two of them.

After Tony and Pepper moved out of the compound, Mari had found herself a new job in California and made the move as well. The next five years had been rather dull for her, but for once she hadn’t been the only one who was going through it. The entire universe had been left in ruins. At one point, she had been so depressed to the point where she had gotten Tony on the phone and told him the truth.

Of course, her godfather hadn’t been mad about it. After all, she was human and was bound to her emotions and desires. But was he pissed at Captain America for breaking his Little Jarvis’ heart? Most definitely! Yet Tony also felt responsible for the part he had indirectly played in their break up. Perhaps that was why he had ensured that Steve Rogers would also be attending Christmas Eve lunch while Marilyn was also in attendance.

“Lunch is served.” May announced as she turned over to Harley and Peter. “Boys, would you please help set the table?”

As the boys whined and groaned at her words, Marilyn stood up from her seat to help as well.

“FRIDAY, tell Cap, Wilson and Barnes that lunch is served.” Tony announced, knowing very well that his goddaughter could hear him.

The young Jarvis’ eyes grew wide as she realized what her godfather had just said and she gave Tony a look of disbelief, mouthing a ‘what’ as she crossed her arms against her chest.

“Oh did I forget to mention that Cap, Wilson and Barnes are spending Christmas with us at the compound? Oops!”

***

Bucky Barnes would forever be grateful that Tony Stark had forgiven him for what he had done during his days under HYDRA’s control. But what he had not expected from Tony was an invite to spend Christmas at the compound with him and his family. After all, he had just gotten used to living with Steve and Sam in Brooklyn. When Steve and Sam were not going on missions or training the young Avengers at the compound, he had found himself becoming familiar with his hometown. He had become tired of fighting throughout his whole life so it felt nice to be able to sit back and enjoy the holidays. The last time he had been able to do that was long before The Great Depression, and that too was a century ago.

Bucky had learned from Sam about his friend’s brief romance with Stark’s goddaughter and that was why he had been hesitant about spending the holidays at the compound.

“Mari always spends the holidays with Tony and Cap can’t get himself to see her.” He had told him.  

He did not think much of it at first, though the two of them had somehow managed to convince Steve to come to the compound with them. But the moment Bucky had witnessed Steve come face to face with the woman whose heart he had broken, he truly understood that things just did not seem right.

Bucky had always wanted for Steve to settle down and have a family of his own, even then and even now. Steve had been alone his whole life after all, and while he would always say that he could get by on his own, it was always Bucky who had to remind him that he did not have to. Bucky was determined to convince Steve and his former girlfriend to get back together, even if it meant that he would have to deal with Tony’s wrath once more. His best friend deserved a happy ending and Bucky was going to get it for him.

He had noticed the way the two of them had looked at each other during lunch, even though neither of them had acknowledged each other’s presence or made the effort to have a conversation. Sam had taken it upon himself to formally introduce Marilyn to Bucky, as there was no way Steve could have even thought of it.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sergeant Barnes.” The woman had told him politely, making him chuckle softly.

“You can call me Bucky.” He had told her. “It’s good to meet you too, Marilyn.”

“And you can call me Mari, actually.” She told him as she laughed softly. “It’s not easy being named after a Hollywood sex symbol.”

Bucky nodded. “I understand. I mean, I was named after a president.”

“Not the one that was linked with my namesake, I- wait, forget that I even said that.”

He gave her a confused look. “What?”

“N-Nothing...” She shrugged her shoulders before she took a sip of her eggnog. Her eyes kept darting towards Steve, who was talking to Rhodey and Tony. But all she could do was steal glances every now and then. She did not have the courage to go up and talk to him.

He shrugged off her words before shaking his head, noticing the woman constantly stealing a glance at his friend. “I’m sorry if you feel like I’m intruding... into your personal life. I know you just met me and you don’t know me much... or from what you know, you might probably resent me. But Sam happened to tell me that you and Steve used to...” He did not know how to start the conversation. But he knew that if he could did not get involved, no one else would.

Marilyn bit down on her bottom lip as he brought up her past with Steve and she let out a sigh. “Well, the past is in the past so...”

“I can’t tell you how to live your life, Mari. But I know Steve and I know how bad he feels about what happened between the two of you. I can see the way you look at him too and you can’t deny that you don’t have any feelings for him either.” He spoke in a hushed tone, hoping that no one could hear him.

“Bucky, I...”

“Tony built a time machine and Steve had access to it.” Bucky reminded her. “He could have gone back to the forties if he wanted to but he didn’t do that... You know, I thought he would have. He stayed, Mari. I often wondered why he had chosen to stay in this timeline when he could have gotten the life that he had always wanted with Peggy. But I know now that he had a reason to stay. It’s you. You’re the reason he stayed.”

Marilyn knew that Bucky was making sense. But her heart still refused to accept it. There was no way Steve could have chosen to stay in the present for her when he did have a chance to go back to the past and make himself a life for himself. How could have Steve chosen her over the woman who had once been the love of his life? How could have Steve chosen her over her Aunt Peggy, the woman whom Marilyn had heard stories of from her grandparents, the woman whom she had always looked up to when she was growing up, the woman who was much more brave, kind and confident than she could ever be. She found that hard to believe.

“If Tony could forgive me for what I did, why shouldn’t the two of you just forgive each other for whatever happened in the past?”

***

Christmas morning at the compound had always consisted of Pepper and Tony handing out presents to the kids. While Marilyn was not a kid anymore and was certainly not as materialistic as the rest of them, that had never stopped Tony for spoiling her with gifts every year. But that particular year, he had chosen not to buy her a present himself. Instead he had managed to find something that he knew that she would value a lot more than any expensive gift he could get her.

“This was actually from your parents. I was supposed to give this to you when you graduated from MIT but you know how crazy things were back then. I forgot and then... things got lost when I was moving around. But I found this a couple months ago and thought that this could be a perfect Christmas present for you. Of course, I had Pepper alter it first so that it could fit you. Make sure you’re alone when you open this, okay?” Tony had told her as he handed her a rectangle shaped box that was wrapped up nicely and tied up with a bow on top. “Merry Christmas, Little Jarvis.”

She gave him a confused look as she took it from him and leaned in to place a kiss on his cheek. “Merry Christmas, Tony.”

After everyone else had opened their present, Peter had left the compound to meet up with his girlfriend MJ and Harley had found himself helping Tony set up for the party that night.

Just as her godfather had instructed, Mari had found herself alone in her bedroom when she decided to open her present. Untying the bow and tearing off the wrapping paper, she opened the box to reveal a bright red dress that had been pressed and folded neatly.

When she picked it up and admired the fabric, she noticed an old photograph that had fallen out of it. She crouched down to pick it up from the tiled floor of the bedroom, only to see that it was a photo of her grandfather Edwin Jarvis with the incomparable founder of SHIELD herself, Peggy Carter. Mari noticed that the dress that she was wearing in the photo was the same one that she was now holding.

Marilyn could not help but remember the stories that she had heard from her father countless times. This dress had once belonged to her grandmother, who had lent it to her great-aunt Peggy for a mission. God, she had to give Tony some props. The man really was a genius for holding onto this present until he had found the right for to give it to her.

***

As the Christmas party was finally in full swing, Steve found himself seated by the bar with Bucky. With a beer in his hand, he watched a drunken Sam drag Natasha onto the dance floor. He’d realized that a beer was not as strong a drink to numb the thoughts that were now clouding his mind. But he was not planning on drinking the night away either. Despite Tony’ s invite, Steve had been hesitant about coming here, just because he knew that he would have to run into her. Perhaps it was his guilt that had been eating him alive right now. But Steve was miserable.

Steve was not an idiot. He knew that he was the reason why Marilyn Jarvis had left her entire family in New York to move across the country and he could not face her. He knew that he had screwed up by letting her go. He should not have given her an ultimatum where she had to choose between him and Tony. Of course, Mari had chosen Tony over him, just as he had chosen Bucky over Tony. Breaking her heart had certainly not been the right way to respond to that situation.

But he could not deny it either. He had fallen in love with her years ago. Steve knew that he loved Mari a lot more than he had loved Peggy. That was why he had chosen to stay in the present when he could have went back in time to make himself a life. He had wanted a future with her; even though he knew that she might not want the same with him.

Bucky’s eyes grew wide as he saw something behind Steve and he nudged his arm before standing up. “If this is what déjà vu feels like, then help me God...”

Steve gave him a confused look before he turned around to see Marilyn walking up to him, wearing a bright red dress was a lot more 1940s than what she was used to wearing. The knee length dress was a little loose around her petite frame and its vintage style was reason enough for Steve to assume that the dress had not belonged to her. Yet for a moment when he took in the sight of her, he could not help but think of Peggy - the same Peggy whom he had once in love with, the same Peggy whom Marilyn had also lost almost a decade ago.

The woman ignored the gaze of the entire party, giving Tony a smile on the way.

“Captain.” The young Jarvis greeted him and Steve had almost forgotten how to speak.

His friend nudged him once more, causing him to snap out of his trance. “Mar-” He paused, biting down on his bottom lip as he looked down at his feet and clearing hi throat. “Ms. Jarvis.”

“M-May I... have this dance?” She asked him as she held out her hand. “Please.”

Steve would have thought that she resented him to his core. But the way she had approached him and asked him to dance had been quite surprising to him. As he took her hand and led her towards the dance floor, there were a thousand things that he wanted to say to her. But instead, he wrapped his arms around her waist and swayed gently along to the music.

“I see that you haven’t forgotten what I’d taught you, Rogers.”

He gave her a nod, followed by a nervous chuckle. “Well, you did teach me how to dance, m’lady.”

Mari couldn’t help but chuckle at that. “The years have been kind to you, Steve.”

“The super-soldier serum does help with the aging...” He reminded her before letting out a sigh. “I like the dress, by the way.”

She blushed slightly at his compliment. “Thank you. It used to belong to my grandmother... and Aunt Peggy.”

“Oh...” Steve looked down once more before looking back up at her.

“Steve, why didn’t you go back to her?” Marilyn asked as she looked up at him. “Tony told me that you saw her when you went back in time for the stones. Why didn’t you... why didn’t you just stay when you went back to return the stones?”

“Because she’d moved on from me, Mar. She lived a long life without me and I couldn’t go back and take that away from her.” He replied as he sighed. “Besides, the life that I wanted was... right here... right now.”

“But you loved her, Steve-”

“I love you more, Mar.” He cut her off. “I know I haven’t been honest with you or myself but I can’t take it anymore. So, here’s the truth. It’s you who I love, it’s always been. I’m sorry I put you in a place where you had to choose between me and Tony. But I think the last nine years without you have taught me how stupid I had been... and how much I love you, Marilyn Jarvis.”

Mari could not help but tear up at that. “But Steve... I’m not... right for you. You said so yourself.”

“And I was wrong, I admit it.”

“Steve... I... I love you too.” She finally confessed what she had been holding onto for years now, her eyes glossing over with tears as they met Steve’s blue ones. “I’ve loved you since the day I first saw you.”

Steve then reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. He unfolded it before turning it over to her, revealing a pencil sketch of her face. “I’ve been wanting to give this to you for a while now, Mar. A portrait of you that you’ve always wanted me to draw.”

“You drew this... for me? Steve, it’s beautiful.”

“And so are you.” He could not help but smile at that and he pulled her into a tight hug. “Marry me. First thing in the morning, right here in front of our family and friends. We’ll find ourselves a home in the suburbs, white picket fence and all. That’s where we’ll raise our children. We’ll grow old together too, because I’m not doing that with anyone else but you.”

“I...” She looked over at Tony for a moment before turning back to him. “I think that would be perfect.” Perhaps Marilyn Jarvis had been wrong about one thing. She deserved to have her own happy ending after all.

[idonthinkyoureadyforinformant]

9

Her stern reply squelched Josh's truculence, but he still needed the most important question answered: "What about our drug charges? I heard about Sanchez' disappearance in the news a few days ago. Did that have anything to do with you?"

"I don't know about any of that, Josh. The last time I spoke with her was over a month ago. I haven't heard from anyone at the Police Department since then."

"That's great work, Mia. You probably got her killed. That ought to help us with things tremendously." He stomped off to their bedroom doubting Mia's story, determined to revisit the topic later and extract the truth from her one way or another. He needed to hurt her as badly as she hurt him.

They said nothing to each other the rest of that evening and Mia went to sleep in the spare bedroom (the one with the walk-in closet Josh had converted to a grow room that caused all this trouble). With all the stress, she didn't think she would sleep well that night. But careworn, she drifted down into deep darkness and dreamlessness. She rested comfortably at the bottom of a calm lake of nothingness, in silent water far beneath the distant surface of consciousness.

Josh crept into the room and stood nude in the shadows watching Mia peacefully sleep. With his supply of pot gone, he had resorted to alcohol as his new drug of choice and had polished off an entire bottle this evening. It had been well over a month since he had Mia, and tonight he was going to take back what was his. While she lay on her back in deep slumber, his hand carefully slithered inside her pajamas and made its way down her smooth, flat belly. He reached inside her panties and touched her 'on' switch between her legs.

Something buoyed Mia from the calm depths of unconsciousness and she began dreaming. Her pussy felt good and was getting very wet. "No, not now, Reggie. I'm tired," she mumbled in her sleep. "Is it hard again? Does it hurt? It's so big. Yes, I love your big black cock."

But it was not Reggie; it was Josh who was cautiously touching her clitoris, masturbating her while she slept.

Reggie — that was the son-of-a-bitch who had fucked her, Josh angrily realized. Enraged, he suddenly tore at her pajamas, pulling her bottoms completely off.

Something jerked Mia awake, and she slapped at the darkness. "Oh my god, what are you doing? No, get away from me, you bastard!"

He slapped her face hard. She saw bright flashes of light in the blackness of night and tasted the saltiness of her own blood flowing from her lip.

"You filthy slut! Who's Reggie?"

He slapped her again, his breath reeking of whisky. She lay stunned as he ripped open the top piece of her pajamas, its buttons flying off in multiple directions, exposing her naked breasts to the cool night air. She felt him shove his pathetically small penis into her vagina.

"Reggie is a nigger's name. Did you fuck a nigger you whore? You like fucking big black nigger cocks now?"

She cried hysterically, her hands covering her face as her husband violently raped her. "Oh god, I didn't fuck anyone, Josh. Stop doing this to me."

He pounded into her harder. "You're a liar. Your pussy feels different to me you fucking whore. You let him stretch it out and ruin it. I'm going to cum in you. Sorry you can't have the big black cock you're used to tonight."

"No, no, no, oh God, why?" Mia wailed as Josh ejaculated inside her. He finished his orgasm, rolled off her, and staggered on to his feet. She assumed a fetal position facing away from him, her sobs filling the room and reaching down the shadowy corridor as he shambled back to his own room, to the bed they had once lovingly shared.

***********

Reggie kept copies of Mia's and Josh's police reports that Noyse had given to him. Josh should have been at school teaching today, so why was Mia not answering the texts Reggie sent to her? Reggie's limo parked in front of a vacant lot for sale a few blocks from where she lived, and Reggie walked the way to her house while his limo driver waited.

It was a modest suburban area, your typical middle class development. The houses he passed while strolling along the grey cement sidewalks were all variations of four or five basic designs. What they called cookie-cutter.

The sidewalk ended before Mia's street, which was outside the housing development and hidden in a secluded bubble away from other homes. Her small bungalow's unique architecture suggested it had been built sometime before the Second World War. The huge colorful oaks, like two giant hands reaching over its roof to shake with one another, likely started as acorns buried around this time of year (when the house was new) by some squirrel who forgot about them over a long and cold winter, Reggie thought. The new cookie-cutter subdivision he had walked through to get here was forest back then, and the original acorns likely came from there.

Reggie knocked on Mia's door, a cool breeze whisking away a few leaves from the tree branches swaying over her house. The colorful leaves fluttered off in the wind like summer butterflies. Acorns fell with each gust and sounded like hail as they bounced on the roof. Reggie knocked again, this time louder and longer. If Josh answered, Reggie was prepared to make up a story about the Inner City Youth Program and ask for a donation.

But Josh didn't answer. Reggie hardly recognized Mia when she opened the door, her beautiful face swollen and bruised. "Oh my God. What happened to you?"

"What are you doing here, Reggie? How did you find out where I live?"

"Never mind that. You okay? You alone?"

"I'm fine. Josh is at work."

Reggie pushed by her and entered the house without invitation. He had lived with Mia for over a month and knew she kept tidy. This house was a mess with dirty laundry on the floor, filthy dishes in the sink, empty liquor bottles on the counter, dust everywhere. It looked like Mia had started cleaning, but had a big job ahead of her.

With her mouth gaping, Mia remained by the door and delayed closing it until it became evident Reggie was staying a while.

"Did Josh do this to you?"

Mia nodded with her eyes downcast. "He's just going through a difficult time right now. He suspects I cheated on him and somehow knows your name. He's become jealous and has started drinking. He's never acted this way before or did anything like this. But there's so much uncertainty in both our lives right now. I guess he can't handle it very well. We don't know what's going on with our drug charges or anything else."

Reggie remained quiet while she spoke, but he wanted to fuck Josh up, cap his ass, for what he did to Mia.

She looked up into Reggie's eyes and continued, "This is so unfair, Reggie. As you know, I don't even smoke pot and I don't know why Josh had to grow it. He never made any money at it. It was all for his personal use, except for maybe a few of his pothead friends. Sometimes he shared it with them. No offense; I know you sell drugs. But I don't see why people want them. What's so good about something that can ruin your life and send you to jail?"

Reggie smiled and took Mia in his arms. "I often wondered the same thing myself, baby. But most people want what they can't have. Forbidden fruit goes back to Adam and Eve."

"How come you're able to avoid getting caught unlike my stupid husband?"

Reggie snickered at Mia's question. That was a long, complicated explanation. Some things were better off left unmentioned. Lies worked better for some people than for others.

Just as Mia would never admit to her husband the adulterous affair she had been pressured into having with a black man, Reggie saw no need to ever share all the details of his business and how he cozened sex from her. The important thing was that she loved him now, and not how he accomplished such a feat with someone else's devoted wife.

He offered her an abbreviated version of his business success without the details that allowed him to seduce her. "I may deal drugs, but I never use the garbage I sell, letting it cloud my judgement. It's just business for me. It's a shitty vocation looked down upon by society, like prostitution and porn, but if I don't do it, someone else will. When government legislate morality, it creates bad guys like me."

Bad guy was an inaccurate label, Mia thought. What the police did to all of them, how they initially forced her to sleep with Reggie, damaging her marriage, seemed far worse than anything she saw Reggie do. "I don't necessarily agree with how you make your living, but you're not a bad guy, Reggie. Maybe I thought so at first, but not now. You're one of the nicest people I know. But you can't stay here and you really shouldn't see me again."

Reggie held her tightly. He knew she was not happy and neither was he without her. He was going to get her back one way or another. They needed each other. "I've got to see you again, Mia. I've got to know you're okay. Promise me you'll text me when Josh isn't around so I know you're alright, otherwise I'm coming back — for him."

The pain from her lip reminded Mia not to smile, as a brief grin dropped from her face almost as quickly as it formed. "Oh, that hurts," she remarked, her fingers touching the side of her mouth. "You can't do anything like that, Reggie. You don't need the police snooping around your business."

"You just make sure to answer my texts and keep me posted on things."

Mia wanted him again and she knew he wanted her too, but they could not do anything about it anymore. She could not hold his heavy black cock, feel its thickness and warmth as it pulsed with passion in her palms. She could not taste his ambrosia or allow him inside her. They were forbidden fruit to each other. They had broken the rules by sampling that fruit, and it was delicious; but they could never eat it again. She nodded her head and opened the door for him. "Alright, but you have to leave now. Josh will be home in less than an hour."

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

The missing police officer had been the topic de jour for the past week in newspapers and local television news broadcasts. "We found her phone under a pallet in the old Furman Warehouse," Detective Noyse told Reggie as the afternoon sun filled Reggie's living room with a warm, golden hue. "It contained a bunch of pictures of Daryl Mason and Luther Greeman in a drug deal. I don't want to know what those son-of-a-bitches did with her body. But it looks like we're putting your competitors out of business for a while."

That was good news — his competition soon to be eliminated courtesy of the police department. Things looked better than ever for Reggie, but he wanted another favor from Detective Noyse. "It's a real tragedy about your partner, Noyse. I'm sorry for your loss." Reggie handed him a thicker and heavier envelope of cash than usual. "There's a little extra this week. Hope it helps you through this difficult time."

"Thanks, it should help my grieving process," Noyse sarcastically replied, waving the envelope in his hand while repressing an inappropriate grin. "I never really cared much for the gung-ho bitch. She wasn't too smart doing that on her own. I tried warning her. Still, when a fellow officer goes down, we all mourn, I guess."

"What's gonna happen with Mia and her husband, Josh?"

With the entire police department first focused on finding Detective Sanchez, and now on bringing her killers to justice, Mia had fallen off the radar for a while. Noyse quickly glanced around and asked sotto voce, "You still fucking her?"

Reggie's eyes were downcast. He had fallen in love with Mia and missed her. He needed to take her away from her husband, Josh, before Josh hurt her more. "No, when she saw the news about your partner, she broke down and told me everything — how she was married; how her husband grew pot in the house and they were both busted for it; how your partner forced her to become an informant. She said she loved me but couldn't stay with me anymore."

"The case is still open. What do you have in mind?"

"I want you to drop the charges."

"I may be able to work something out, but one of them will need to take a fall. I can't make the case disappear entirely."

Reggie looked at Noyse. No words passed between them, yet Noyse understood Reggie's intentions. "We both know who's responsible for their situation, and that party needs to see justice. You know what to do. Make sure you take all their property."

Noyse nodded his reply, not particularly relishing the idea of locking up Josh and using civil forfeiture laws to seize the house, all so Reggie could freely dick Josh's wife some more. The 58-year-old detective grew up in different times. Deep down, a racist part of Noyse didn't think it was right for a black man to sleep with a white woman — especially a married white woman. Had he known about Josh beating Mia recently, putting bruises on her face, Noyse might have felt differently.

It was a cruel world he supposed, the spoils of riches and women going to the alpha male, who in this instance was Reggie. With only a short time remaining on the police force and retirement waiting, Reggie's lucrative payroll was very persuasive. Money was all that mattered to Noyse at this point in his career.

Noyse was staring out the window again, at the beautiful view of the city as Reggie continued, "I'll take care of Mia for a while until she can get on her feet."

Reggie also intended to take care of Josh for what Josh. Reggie's many connections extended to the penal system. Perhaps Josh would like a taste of black cock himself while in prison. A nice big nigger for a cellmate for a few years could go a long way in cultivating latent homosexual tendencies.

Two weeks later the text from Mia Reggie had waited for arrived. He lubricated the wheels of justice with money and they turned faster than their usual pace.

The bruises on Mia's face had already faded when the police arrived to arrest Josh and seize their home.

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

A few months had passed since the police seized their home and arrested Josh. At the time, Mia thought her world was collapsing, but Reggie came to her rescue and that dark period ended. Now she sat in a stately courtroom, her belly bulging with a baby inside it, Reggie's arm securely around her shoulders, his sparkling engagement ring returned to its rightful place on her wedding finger. She looked as beautiful as she felt with Reggie beside her. Guards escorted Josh, now in shackles and wearing an orange prison jumpsuit, into the courtroom for sentencing.

Josh briefly saw his soon-to-be ex-wife, obviously pregnant and sitting with a handsome African-American man. Gone was the liberalism and belief in social justice Josh, so typical of most educators, once espoused. This was the nigger who had fucked Mia, taken her from him, and caused all this to happen to them. Josh knew it. As he turned to face the bench, Josh realized Reggie was probably still fucking her.

Unfortunately for Josh, the judge for his case had also recently joined Reggie Johnson's payroll. "Having found the defendant guilty of the manufacture of cannabis with intent to distribute, this court hereby sentences the defendant, Josh Warner, to the maximum penalty of 12 years imprisonment."

Josh barely heard his sentence, his mind thinking about Mia, how stunning she looked, how he had lost her, how she was now pregnant, most likely with that black man's baby.

There was no time for good-byes or to take one final look at his gorgeous wife who had started a new life and was now carrying Reggie's baby in her womb. The guards quickly rushed Josh from the courtroom. With his conviction and sentencing complete, he was leaving county jail custody. His transfer over to the state penitentiary underway, he would soon meet his new black cellmate and start a new life of his own.

[goldenhemmings]

Stealing Second | Baseball!Shawn

Whew. If you know me at all, you know I am a sucker for any AU scenario where Shawn is an athlete, so naturally I’ve spent the last three days neglecting all of my academic responsibilities to crank out 8.3k words (!!!) of Baseball!Shawn. I tried to keep the jargon in check, but here’s a little study guide of the things I wrote about in case you’re not super well versed on all things Major League Baseball: 

MLB teams are divided into two leagues: American and National. Each league has slightly different rules. The Toronto Blue Jays are in the American, and their home stadium is Rogers Centre. Rookie of the Year is an award given by each league to the best first-year player. Players often wear compression sleeves over their throwing arms because it reduces soreness, and eye black under their eyes to reduce the glare of the sun or stadium lights so that they can see better. If you have any more questions please ask, and without further ado please enjoy Baseball!Shawn!!

When you got the call from “Greg with the Toronto Blue Jays” that you had been selected from a field of over two-hundred applicants for one of the team’s few coveted internship positions, you almost stopped breathing. The sun was making its descent as you sat at the kitchen table of your quaint suburban apartment, having just finished the leftovers you’d microwaved a few minutes before when your phone sounded its familiar siren. It was an unknown number, but the Toronto area code immediately made your stomach flip. It was a straightforward phone call, Greg simply offering you a congratulations and saying you started at Rogers Centre in two weeks’ time, but to you it meant the entire world. You managed to breathe out a “thank you” as you hung up the phone, eyes blurry with tears and hands shaking as you struggled to dial your mother’s phone number--the only person you could think to call.

You cried as you talked to your mom about how all of your hard work had finally paid off; four years of suffering as a double-major student to obtain two bachelor’s degrees, almost entirely giving up sleep and a social life as the price for your scholastic success, and eight months of waiting tables post-graduation to (barely) sustain yourself while you looked for a job. The sports industry was harder to find a place in than you’d thought, and you couldn’t believe the opportunity had finally come. Your mother was beyond proud, and after the phone call you sat at the kitchen table and cried because you didn’t know what else to do.

You’d wanted to work in sports your entire life; the love had been ingrained into you by your parents when you were young, and it never faded as you’d grown. You’d sent your resume to every sports franchise with availabilities, prepared to emigrate to the States for your dream job if you had to, but with this internship for the Blue Jays you thankfully only had to move an hour or so away.

Moving, however, caused you great stress. The ballpark was in the heart of downtown Toronto, which meant that every apartment or condo within a reasonable distance of the stadium would be exceedingly out of your price range; not to mention that the deadline of two weeks only added to your panic. You expressed this concern to your mother the next morning when you were level-headed enough to hold a steady conversation, but the words your mother spoke were enough to send you spiraling down yet another path of overwhelmed emotions: your mom and dad would help you pay to live downtown until you were financially stable enough to take the reins on your own. You had paid your own way through college, and your parents didn’t want further financial struggles to stand in the way of getting your foot in the door of your dream industry; they’d let you pay them back whenever you were able. With a cushion of temporary aid from your family, finding a place to live was a breeze; you settled on a one-bedroom apartment about a twenty-minute walk from the stadium. It had a perfect view of the Toronto skyline, and you could already imagine yourself sitting on the small balcony at night just watching the city lights twinkle before you.

On a Thursday in May, not three days after getting the phone call, you and your parents loaded the contents of your tiny apartment into the back of your barely-running sedan. You sighed as you realized how out of place the old car would look juxtaposed to the sleek vehicles that surely filled the streets of the city. Oh well, you thought. I’ll probably be walking everywhere, anyways. You shut the hatch of your trunk and smoothed over your favorite Blue Jays player’s jersey--a parting gift from your mother--before hugging your mom and dad goodbye. You took one last look at your small apartment complex and climbed into the driver's seat before reversing out of your designated parking spot and driving away in the direction of your dream life.

As you merged onto the 401 and the Toronto skyline came into view, you had to turn your music up even louder in a desperate attempt to distract yourself and therefore control your pounding heart, an exhilarated smile unable to keep itself from spreading across your face. You were finally here. This was finally happening. You pulled off the highway and drove into the parking garage of your new apartment, awestruck at how tall and sleek the building was. You went into the lobby to get everything sorted, and you were all set when the manager handed you a key to your door and sent you on your way with an enthusiastic “Welcome!”

You made your way back out to the parking garage, popping the trunk of your car and beginning the grueling back-and-forth process of taking the boxes up to your apartment one by one. You made your way back down to the car for what felt like the hundredth time, sighing in relief when you saw that there were only two boxes left. You pulled the larger of the two out, which was exceptionally heavy, and as you tried to shut the trunk while still holding the box your balance completely failed you.

“Fuck!” you cried, as the contents of the box went tumbling onto the ground next to your car. You sighed as you knelt down to place the box upright when you heard a voice echo from behind you in the parking garage.

“Do you need some help?”

You snapped your head around, your eyes settling on the figure of a tall man who was far enough across the lot that you couldn’t quite make out his features. “Um, I think I’ll be okay,” you called back, ducking your head down in embarrassment over the fact that someone had seen you clumsily and inadvertently dump the box onto the ground. “Thank you though!”

The man continued talking, the sound of his voice getting closer despite the fact that you had declined his offer. “Are you sure? I’m more than happy to--hey. Nice jersey.”

You turned around and looked up to meet the man’s smug eyes, and as you did you felt your cheeks immediately begin burning. You fell back onto your ass as though you’d been pushed, the box’s spilled contents suddenly disregarded. You looked down self-consciously to the Blue Jays jersey you had on, all-too-aware of the Mendes 98 embroidered onto the back, and slowly let your gaze travel back up to the real number 98 standing right before your eyes. You’d been in Toronto for twenty minutes and you had already come face to face with your favorite baseball player...while wearing his jersey. If you weren’t embarrassed before, you surely were now.

“I’m Shawn,” he said, kneeling down to your level as you hadn’t yet picked yourself up from the pavement. He extended his hand, and you weren’t quite sure whether he expected you to shake it or help yourself up with it.

“As if I don’t know who you are,” you muttered, laughing nervously as you disregarded his hand altogether. You opted to stand up on your own, brushing the asphalt off of the back of your jean shorts as you forced herself to meet his eyes. Eyes that, to your surprise, seemed almost bashful.

Shawn’s hand, marked with a tattoo you couldn’t quite see the shape of, came up to rub the side of his neck. He looked strange in his fitted shirt and black Nike shorts; you weren’t used to seeing him without his jersey on--or in person, for that matter. You’d known he was a rookie and therefore one of the younger players on the team, but standing this close to him you realized he couldn’t be more than twenty-one or twenty-two. Who’d have known that his ball cap was hiding such curly hair, or that underneath his compression sleeve were several concealed tattoos, his short sleeve shirt now putting them on full display?

Shawn Mendes was a first-year second baseman for the Blue Jays, and nearly every Major League Baseball commentator had pegged him as a top-three contender for the American League Rookie of the Year award. He’d quickly become your favorite player at the start of the season, with his ability to flawlessly handle any ball hit his way and his red-hot swing racking up the most hits on the team. But it was his character, however, that really drew you to him. He was his teammates’ biggest fan, always making sure to give players words of encouragement after a bad game or a celebratory smile and high-five after a big hit. Even though he was only a rookie, he was loved by players, coaches, and fans alike, and he’d quickly become one of the Blue Jays’ greatest assets.

You were snapped from your reverie by Shawn’s voice once again cutting through the air, and you refocused your eyes so that they were looking up into his. “W-what did you say?”

He smiled. “I said I really don’t mind helping you carry your things up, I know how awful it is to move on your own. I’d have loved the help back when I first moved in here.”

“You live here?” you squeaked out, but it sounded less like a question and more like you were stating it to yourself, as though repeating the words would have them make more sense.

“Twelfth floor,” Shawn affirmed, shooting you another smile that almost made you dizzy.

You cast your eyes downward, nudging at the ground with the toe of your Converse. “Fifth,” you responded. The view got better the higher up you were--which meant the price also rose with the floor number. “It’s close to the stadium, though, so I’d really be set no matter which floor I ended up on.”

“Plan on making it to a lot of our games?” Shawn teased, smirking as he folded his arms over his broad chest.

“I actually just got an internship with the team’s public relations department, which is why I moved out here. I’ll officially work for the Blue Jays in about a week and a half, so I’m sure I’ll be at most of the home games.” As you heard yourself say it, you couldn’t keep the childish grin from your face. It still barely felt real to you, and you found yourself wishing there weren’t ten long days standing between you and the beginning of your dream career path.

“No way!” Shawn grinned, making the corners of his eyes crinkle and revealing a set of teeth so perfect you found yourself nearly mesmerized. You’d thought that he was handsome on TV, but the in-person effect was a million times stronger. “Guess that makes us co-workers, then.”

You let out a strangled laugh at his comment, but it sounded more like a yelp. “I wouldn’t go that far. I’m just one of the little people working behind the scenes.”

“But you make us look good,” Shawn insisted, his genuine smile unwavering.

“You make yourselves look good,” you scoffed, timidly looking at the ground as though it were suddenly interesting you. “You of all people should know that. You don’t make any errors in the field, your batting average is sky-high, and you’re on the short list for Rookie of the Year. I’m not sure there’s anything I or anyone else could do to make you look any better.” You could hear the gushing words spilling out of your mouth before you had time to process that you were even saying them, and when you finally managed to stop talking you wanted to crawl into a hole. Your favorite baseball player was talking to you like a normal human being, and you had to go and ruin it by fawning over him like the crazed fan that you were.

But, to your surprise, Shawn seemed unphased by this. “You really know your baseball,” he replied, and your eyes shot up to meet his brown ones.

“I’d hope a pro baseball team weren’t hiring people who didn’t,” you teased in a brief moment of bravery, Shawn letting out a little laugh.

“I guess I’d hope so, too.” As the words left his mouth, you both fell silent. His eyes were still on yours, and you’d have been a fool to look away. It was strange, having this seemingly intimate moment in the middle of a parking garage with a box of your personal belongings still scattered at your feet.

“Um,” Shawn cleared his throat, the first to break the long pause. “Are you sure I can’t help you with anything? The team has the day off today and I’d feel like a dick if I knew you were moving all these boxes by yourself while I sat on my ass doing nothing.”

“That’d be awesome, actually,” you finally assented, bending down to start putting the spilled box back together again as Shawn followed suit.

“I never caught your name,” Shawn said as the two of you carefully repacked your belongings.

“You’re a baseball player, you should catch everything,” you joked, to which Shawn chuckled and rolled his eyes. “Kidding,” you continued, smiling in response to Shawn’s laugh. “It’s Y/N.”

“Y/N,” he repeated, and your heart fluttered at the sound of him saying your name. “That’s pretty.”

“Thanks,” you giggled, continuing to pack up your things and forcing the giddiness that was threatening to spill out of you back down with all of your might. If this was how your luck was going to be in Toronto, you hoped you’d never have to leave.

“Oh, this is too good,” you heard Shawn say, and you looked up to see him smiling down at the framed photograph his large hands were clutching. Without even looking, you knew what it was: a picture of your mom and your dad holding baby you in between them, the Blue Jays’ stadium filling the background. They’d put you in a onesie covered with the team logo, and you sported a smile just as big as your parents’, except yours was toothless. You really were born and raised a sports fan; this picture was evidence of that.

“You were made for sports, weren’t you?” Shawn asked, placing the photograph gently inside the box.

“Absolutely,” you responded, flattered that he seemed so interested in your life. “My parents totally ingrained it into me. I don’t think I’d be happy with a career involving anything else.”

He smiled. “I can understand that. I’m pretty sure I knew how to throw a ball before I knew how to walk.”

You laughed, standing up as you placed the last of your things inside the box. “I’d expect nothing less. The greatest athletes always start young.” You moved towards the trunk of your car to grab the last box, shifting to balance it between your thigh and your arm in order to have a free hand to close the trunk with. You quickly pulled your keys out of your pocket and locked the car, shoving them back out of sight and taking hold of the box with both hands.

“Do you want me to get this one?” Shawn asked, pointing at the one you’d both just repacked.

“Yes, please. We both know what happened the last time I tried to carry that thing.”

Shawn chuckled as he turned his back to you and bent down to grab the heavy box, and you had to force yourself to keep your lips together as you watched the way his back muscles flexed and strained under the fabric of his skin-tight Under Armour shirt. “Lead the way,” he said, turning around to face you. You felt your cheeks get hot as you moved in front of him, sure that he’d caught you staring.

“Is this your first job with a sports team?” Shawn asked as he quickly fell into stride next to you, the both of you making your way into the apartment building’s lobby and towards the elevators.

“Yeah, if you’d even call it that,” you sighed, pressing the up button with your elbow. “It’s just an internship. But an opportunity is an opportunity, and I plan to make the most of this one.”

The elevator doors open and the two of you filed inside. “Guess we’re both rookies, then.”

You smiled, comforted by his kindness. “Yeah, I guess so. Except your season officially started in March. Mine doesn’t start for another ten days.”

“Are you excited?” Shawn asked, hitting the five button, and you felt yourself smiling again as you realized he’d remembered what floor you said you lived on.

“I only cried for two whole days after I got the call,” you giggled as the doors opened onto your floor, and Shawn laughed with you.

“I’ll take that as a resounding yes,” he said as you set the box down at the door and fished in your shorts’ back pocket for the new key to your apartment. You pushed the key in the lock and flung the door open, pushing your box inside to join the pile of all the others.

“Forgot how empty these things look at first,” Shawn remarked, gingerly placing the box in his hands down with the rest.

“I kind of like it,” you responded, taking in the space that was now all yours. Your kitchen was off to the left, and there was a large open space in front of you waiting to be converted into a living room. Your bedroom and bathroom were just beyond the kitchen, and there was a floor to ceiling window that revealed your quaint balcony and a decent view of the Toronto skyline directly across the room from the front door. “Kind of like a blank slate that I can do whatever I want with.”

“I don’t suppose you have furniture packed away in those boxes?” Shawn joked, stepping further into your empty apartment.

“Nope,” you giggled. “It’ll be me and my air mattress tonight. But most of the furniture I ordered should be coming Friday...which I guess is tomorrow.”

“We’ve got a three-game series against the White Sox starting tomorrow. The Friday and Saturday games are pretty late, but the Sunday game is early...I think it’s at one in the afternoon. I should be home by six, and I’m more than happy to help you with any furniture assembling. N-not that I think you can’t do it by yourself,” he rushed to add, eliciting a giggle from you.  

“I’d like that,” you said, biting the inside of your cheek to restrain your giddy smile. “Hopefully I won’t have too much trouble, but I already know I won’t be able to do it all myself.”

“Cool,” he said, shoving his hands into the pockets of his black shorts. “I’ll swing by. And, um...You know...If you’re ever free on any of my off-days and you want someone to show you around the city or something, I’d be more than happy to.”

“I’d like that, too,” you smile, your quickened pulse echoing in your ears.

He grinned. “Perfect. We’ll figure something out.”

“Sounds good. Oh, and good luck tomorrow night,” you called as he began making his way towards the door. “Not like you need it.”

He turned around, his eyes bright and a smile playing on his lips. “Will you be watching?”

“Yeah, on the TV that I don’t have yet,” you giggled, and he smiled and ducked his head.

“Right, right. But knowing you, you’ll find a way.”

“Oh, I definitely will. With an extra-trained eye on number 98.”

“No pressure,” he chuckled, running his inked hand through his brown curls.

“You’ll play amazing,” you said seriously, folding your arms around yourself. “You always do. And thanks for the help today, you’re a lifesaver.”

“Don’t sweat it. It’s nice to know someone else living here.” He swung the door open, stepping halfway in and halfway out of the entryway. “I’ll see you Sunday?”

“Mhm. And I’ll see you on the big screen tomorrow.”

“Hopefully I don’t disappoint,” he laughed, and you did too. “Bye, Y/N.”

“Bye, Shawn,” you answered, and with that the door was closed behind him.

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Come Sunday afternoon, you’d managed to assemble most of your furniture with the exception of your bed. The pieces were heavy, and there were too many of them for you to figure out exactly what part went where. As you walked out of your apartment’s sole bedroom and into the kitchen to make lunch, you remembered that day’s Blue Jays game was on at 1; in ten minutes.

Your television had come in last night, and it had taken a while but you’d managed to set it up by yourself. You had nothing planned in the days before you started at your internship, and though assembling your apartment was grueling, you found yourself grateful for the fact that you had something to occupy your time with.

You sauntered over to where you’d put the small TV, reaching for the remote and flipping the channel to the Blue Jays game. Your heart nearly dropped when you saw that the cameras were currently focused on a pre-game interview between one of the announcers and Shawn. You flung yourself down on your new couch, cranking the volume and completely disregarding the fact that you’d meant to make lunch.

The brim of Shawn’s baseball cap concealed most of his forehead (and those perfect brown curls), but the camera still picked up the youthful excitement behind his eyes as he spoke. He had fresh eye black painted under his eyes, and you knew that the two strips would quickly become smeared once the game started and progressed.

“With the White Sox winning the first two games in this series,” the announcer began, Shawn leaning in and listening intently, “What do you think is going to be the key to stopping their streak and winning this game?”

Shawn answered immediately, and you were shocked by how well-spoken he was. You’d heard him speak before, of course, but now you found yourself paying extra attention to every detail about him. “I think we just have to focus,” Shawn started, adjusting his hat. “We have to not get caught up in the last two games because right now, today’s game is all that matters. We took some tough losses but we fought hard, and today we need to fight a little harder.”

You smiled, folding your knees up under your chin and resting your head on top. Good answer. The announcer continued. “I’m sure you’ve been following what the sportscasters have been saying, so I have to ask how you feel about the buzz for you to win Rookie of the Year.”

“I’m honored that they see so much potential in me, but it’s still so early in the season. Right now I’m just trying to focus on playing my position and helping my team win games.”

“Good man,” the announcer said, laughing as he clapped Shawn on the back. “Thanks for your time, and good luck today.”

“Thank you, man,” Shawn said, and with that he was off camera as he made his way back to the Blue Jays’ dugout on the third base side of the field.

The announcer sent the program over to a commercial, telling the audience to stick around because the first pitch was right after the break. You took this as your chance to finally make lunch, throwing together a sandwich with the few groceries you’d picked up from the store yesterday and then making your way back over to the couch. You pulled the blanket you’d laid over the back of the sofa down and covered yourself with it, the blasting air conditioning leaving you a little chilly in your spandex and old Maple Leafs t-shirt. Now that you were settled, you were ready to be glued to the screen for the next three and a half hours.

The game passed uneventfully, both teams’ pitchers throwing an amazing game. The score was still 0-0 in the bottom of the sixth inning, but the White Sox pitcher’s arm was clearly starting to get tired, evidenced in the two consecutive hits he’d given up. You perked up a little bit at the potential scoring opportunity, with only one out and Blue Jays players at first and second base. A single would score one, and a double or triple would likely get both runners home. You could hear the crowd through the TV, and your stomach swirled with the excitement of knowing that you’d be a part of this atmosphere in just over a week. You waited with anticipation to see which Blue Jays player was up to bat next, and you almost screamed when you saw that it was Shawn.

A graphic displaying his statistics flashed on the screen, the announcers gushing over the Blue Jays’ beloved young rookie. Shawn stepped into the batter’s box, raising his bat over his shoulder and watching the pitcher with anticipation. Your eyes raked up and down his body, his arms flexed beneath his jersey from the weight of the bat and his white baseball pants hugging all the right parts of his lower half.

The pitcher started his windup, refocusing your attention on the game and sending a pitch flying over the plate for a strike that Shawn didn’t swing at. The screen said the ball came across at 83 miles per hour, which was beyond slow for the kind of pitch he’d thrown. His arm was tired, and your legs were bouncing up and down as you silently prayed that Shawn could take advantage of the opportunity. Another pitch--this one ruled a ball. As the pitcher began his third wind up of the at-bat, your breath hitched. The ball hurdled towards the plate as Shawn brought his bat around, a crack echoing as the barrel made contact, sending the pitch soaring into left field between the left and center fielders, who both went chasing after it. Both runners had crossed the plate, scoring two for the Blue Jays, and Shawn slid headfirst into second base to avoid being tagged out. The umpire called him safe, and dirt was stained all down the front of Shawn’s uniform as he popped up from the slide.

You could hear the crowd going crazy just like you were, reflexively jumping up from the couch and cheering as the camera showed the Blue Jays dugout high-fiving the runners that had just scored. The White Sox manager walked out to the mound, signaling for a new pitcher to come in and replace the current one. With the score now 0-2, Toronto winning, the game had a new life to it--and you were as hooked as always.

The game went by pretty quickly after that, each team managing to score another run, which left the final score as 1-3 Blue Jays. You smiled, clicking off the TV to get back to work until Shawn (hopefully) stopped by in a couple of hours.

You walked over to the pile of boxes, most of which you’d emptied, and chose a random one to begin unpacking. As you looked inside, you laughed to yourself; it was the box you’d spilled in front of Shawn. You pulled your hair into a sloppy ponytail and set about unpacking, placing photographs where you wanted them and arranging the decor from your last apartment how you liked it in your new one.

Before you knew it the sun was starting to go down, and you’d unpacked the rest of your boxes. You took a proud look around your apartment, satisfied with how everything had turned out. There were still a few tweaks you wanted to make here and there, but for three days’ work you were pretty damn happy.

You’d walked over to the kitchen to get a glass of water when there was a knock on your door, and you dashed over to open it, practically sliding across the hardwood floors in your fuzzy socks. You swung the door open to reveal Shawn, wearing black workout shorts and a white Blue Jays t-shirt, his hair slightly damp from the shower he’d surely had after the game.

“Hey MVP,” you grinned.

“So you’re a hockey fan, too?” Shawn asked, pointing at the Maple Leafs shirt you had on.

“I’m an every sport fan,” you giggled, turning and allowing him to pass by you into the apartment. “Even football.”

“A Canadian who likes football,” Shawn mused as you shut the door. “Don’t come by those too often.”

“You’d be surprised,” you said, walking into the center of your apartment as Shawn took in his surroundings.

“You really whipped this place into shape.”

“Makes it easy when you’re stuck here all day with nothing else to do.”

Shawn smiled. “Well, how can I help you finish up?”

“I actually need help with my bed,” you said sheepishly, running your fingers through the ends of your hair. “The pieces are too heavy for me to lift on my own.”

“No problem,” Shawn answered cheerily, following you down the short hallway into your room.

“Oh, and good game today,” you remarked as you walked.

He smiled, his cheeks getting rosy. “You watched?”

“Of course I did,” you laughed. “Every minute of it.”

“Well, thank you. Glad we could win at least one game in the series.”

“And there will be many more wins where that came from, especially if you all keep hitting as well as you did today.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I hope you’re right.”

The two of you set to work on the piece of furniture, assembling the frame and attaching it to the headboard. What you couldn’t even finish on your own only took half an hour with Shawn’s help, and there was, of course, the added bonus of getting to see his muscles bulging under his shirt as he did your heavy lifting. You pulled your new queen-sized mattress from where it was pushed up against the wall, tossing it down so that it fit perfectly inside the white bed frame, and let out a little cheer over the finished project.

“That’s everything!” you exclaimed.

Shawn grinned, brushing his hands off and moving over to where you stood. “Feels good to be all moved in, doesn’t it?”

“No kidding,” you laughed. “Now, how about a drink?”

“Oh, I don’t really drink much during the season. Thank you, though,” Shawn sighed, but you weren’t having it.

“Come on!” you teased. “You just helped me with half an hour of heavy lifting after you played a hell of a game. Tomorrow’s a travel day for the team, anyways. All you’re going to do is sit on a jet for however many hours until you get to San Francisco. I think you can afford one glass of wine, and it’s the least I could do for your help.”

“Of course you’ve memorized the team’s schedule,” Shawn chuckled, and you felt a wave of heat rising to your cheeks. “But I guess you’re right. Pour me a glass.”

“Always am,” you teased, heading to the fridge. “Red or white?”

“Whichever you’re having. You’re pretty convincing, you know,” Shawn continued as you poured two glasses of red wine, handing one to him and leaning your back against the counter right next to where he stood. “And you always know what you’re talking about. I have a feeling this internship is going to turn into a job more quickly than you think.”

You let out a sigh, tilting your glass back to let the wine past your lips. “I seriously hope you’re right. I need a big-girl job at some point.”

“What day do you officially start?” Shawn asked, angling his body so that he was leaning up against the side of the counter and facing you.

“A week from Monday. Same day as the first home game back versus--”

“Boston,” Shawn finished, and you both laughed. “I’ve heard.”

“Sorry,” you giggled, picking up your glass for another sip.

“Don’t apologize. It’s cute how you know everything.” At this you almost choked on your wine, but you managed to force it down and suppress your coughs. Shawn kept talking, which you were exceedingly grateful for; you wouldn’t have immediately been able to form the right words to respond to his compliment. “There’s a long corridor at the stadium that connects the offices to the Blue Jays locker rooms, and there are a bunch of random rooms off to the sides of that hallway. If you can manage to get away, you should meet me in the one closest to the locker room, like, fifteen minutes before the game starts. I wanna hear about your first day.”

You smiled at him over the rim of your wine glass, trying to keep your butterflies in check. “Fifteen minutes before game time...got it. I’ll do my best.”

You smirked. You’d do more than your best; you’d be there like your life depended on it.

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The rest of the days went slowly, with you desperate to pass the empty time in any way you could. You arranged your artwork, then rearranged it, then rearranged it again. You paid several visits to the apartment complex’s gym--something you’d normally never do, but resorted to out of pure boredom. You went on walks to explore the area around your apartment, identifying which restaurants looked good and the shops you wanted to look in when you finally (hopefully) had money to spend. You watched every Blue Jays game from the comfort of your couch, now with the added excitement of seeing Shawn on TV while also knowing him personally.  

When Monday morning finally rolled around, you were out of bed much earlier than you probably needed to be. You put on the flowy dress you’d picked out, which was blue with white polka dots to match the team’s colors. It was cute but still professional, and when paired with simple jewelry and sandals it was perfect. You did your hair how you liked it and put on a touch more makeup than you normally would, checking the time to see that you still had an hour to be at the stadium and it was only a twenty-minute walk.

You headed into your kitchen and brewed yourself some coffee, making sure that it was decaf; you didn’t need caffeine adding to the jitters you already had. You sat at your kitchen counter and sipped it slowly, trying to think about anything but how nervous you were. When half an hour had passed you opted to start your walk, grabbing your purse from the hook you’d put by the front door and plugging your headphones into your phone to listen to music on your way.

You arrived at the stadium offices with seven minutes to spare, as you weren’t set to meet with Greg until nine o’clock. You were hit with a rush of excitement as you walked through the office doors, Home of the Toronto Blue Jays proudly displayed on a blue banner directly above the entrance. Once inside, you felt like a kid in a candy store. You could see past the receptionist’s desk, the front of which was adorned with a giant Blue Jays flag, to all of the cubicles in the center of the large space. The walls were lined all down the sides with door after door concealing the offices of higher-ups in the organization, shiny plaques displaying each occupant’s last name pasted to the doors. Additionally, there were two silver-doored elevators tucked into the left corner by the front, where you’d come in. The walls inside the reception area were lined with framed newspaper clippings, photographs, and jerseys, and everyone working seemed to have at least one article of clothing that matched the team’s blue; the entire space was a giant homage to the Blue Jays.

Before you had time to ask the receptionist where you were supposed to go, you were met with the sight of a tall, bald man who couldn’t have been older than fifty walking briskly in your direction, his gray suit pressed to perfection and adorned with a royal blue tie. This man, you assumed, was Greg--the one who’d called you to give you the job.

“Are you my intern?” he asked cheerily, reaching out his hand for you to shake before you’d even given him an answer.

“Yes,” you smiled, shaking his hand. “Y/N, nice to meet you.”

“I’m Greg, and the pleasure’s all mine,” he said with a smile, and it seemed truly genuine. “Your application was beyond impressive, I remember it well.”

You blushed at his compliment, filled with pride for your hard work and dedication. You felt your nerves slowly slipping away in Greg’s presence, his exceedingly friendly demeanor making you more comfortable by the second.

“If you’d follow me,” he continued, setting off into the giant office area, “I’ll get you situated and introduce you to the other interns.”

“Are the others already here?” you asked, filled with a new wave of anxiety. You’d been almost ten minutes early, how had they all beaten you?

“Yes, but don’t worry--you’re not late. I told you all to come in fifteen minutes apart from one another so that you had time to adjust. It can be overwhelming on your first day, and I didn’t want the added pressure of a crowd,” he explained, sending you a smile from over his shoulder. You relaxed at this; not only was Greg friendly, but he was thoughtful. “I’ve got them all sitting in a conference room at the end of the offices--” he reached out to push in a door handle, “--right here.”

He led you into the room, where five people sat around a large conference table. Five men. They all stopped their side conversations, looking up to you. You felt the heat of five pairs of eyes sizing you up and down, and you swallowed hard in an effort to stay calm. Greg clapped his hands together once and took a seat at the table, you following suit.

“Alright,” he began, your eyes glued to him. “Now that everyone’s here, let’s introduce ourselves and then I’ll get you each started in your individual departments!”

You and the five other interns, who all appeared to be about your age, went around the table as though it were an icebreaker on the first day of high school and introduced yourselves with your name, hometown, and the department you were interning for. There was Chris who’d be interning with Finance, Matthew with Operations, David with Medical, Tony with Marketing, Brandon with Sales, and you with Public Relations. The difference between Finance and Sales, you learned from Chris (who seemed like a massive know-it-all), is that Finance deals with how the team spends money, whereas Sales is concerned with making money.

Once the rounds had been made Greg stood up, announcing that he’d take you one by one to your departments to get you situated. Know-it-all Chris was first, and as soon as he and Greg were gone the guys started talking to each other again. This left you sitting awkwardly, wanting to join their conversations but they were too quiet for you to hear. You tried to push the thought that they were excluding you on purpose into the back of your mind.

You looked down into your lap, pretending to be fascinated with a detail on your purse, when you felt the chair to your right slide out from under the table. Your head shot up, met with Brandon smiling warmly and sliding in next to you. “It’s Y/N, right?” he asked, and you nodded. “Brandon.”

“I remember,” you grinned, and he smiled back. Brandon had tan skin and light eyes, and he wore a black suit that seemed a little large on his frame despite the fact that his shoulders were so broad. His smile was friendly, and though it was early to tell, you thought he seemed kind.

He must have caught you noticing the size of his suit, because he ran his hands over it and let out a little chuckle. “Yeah, yeah, I know it’s big. Couldn’t really afford a new suit, so I had to borrow this one from my dad. Anyways, I could tell the others were ignoring you so I wanted to come say hi. This place is nerve-wracking enough without having to be by yourself.”

“Thank you,” you shrugged, giving him a smile as you felt yourself relax. “You said you were from America, right?”

“Texas,” he confirmed, leaning back in his chair. “Really small town. Nobody ever moves in and nobody ever leaves.”

“Wow,” you quipped, intrigued. “What drew you to Toronto, then?”

“They took my application,” he answered, and you both laughed in mutual understanding of how challenging it was to secure a position like this. “I actually played baseball all through high school and college. Was projected to make the major leagues as soon as I graduated, but then I got hurt and nobody would sign me to play for them. But I knew even if I couldn’t play in the majors I wanted to work there, hence the reason why I’m hoping this internship leads to a higher position.”

“That’s quite a story,” you remarked, and Brandon shrugged. “I know what you mean about the internship, though. I hope it opens up something bigger for me, too.” Brandon nodded in understanding, continuing the small talk with you until Greg called him away.

You were the last intern that Greg pulled, and you were more than ready to finally have something to do after sitting in the conference room for an hour. “So you,” he started, leading the way towards the elevators, “are my lovely PR lady. Which means you are working to make sure that the team is positively received by the fans. You’ll mostly be making written contributions--conducting research and interviews to contribute to articles for the Blue Jays website--and eventually writing articles yourself once your training is done. The website is the main way we keep the community updated on the team both on and off the field, so it’s very important to the success of our organization. You’ll additionally get practice guiding post-game press conferences, which are also very important.”

You listened intently, making mental notes of everything Greg was saying. The man spoke very quickly, almost to the point where you couldn’t keep up, but your focus was razor-sharp.

The elevators opened onto the third floor of the stadium offices, where the PR department was housed, and you followed Greg as he stepped out onto the tiled floors. He took you into every single office, introducing you as The Intern to more people than you’d ever met in your life, whose names you only prayed you remembered.

Lastly, you were introduced to a woman named Cassidy, who didn’t seem much older than you. She stood up from behind her desk with a bright smile and, instead of greeting you with a handshake like everyone else had, she pulled you in for a hug. You learned from Greg that you’d be working very closely with Cassidy; she’d be your “mentor” throughout the internship, and your desk was inside her spacious office. Greg shook your hand one last time before saying he’d “leave you two to it,” and with that he started back down the hallway for the elevators.

Very quickly, you realized Cassidy was beyond cool. She was young, intelligent, and well-respected in her job; everything you aspired to be. She handed you a folder, containing the transcript of an interview she’d done with one of the players regarding his nonprofit work. She told you she was writing an article about how charitable the player was, and asked you to seed out several quotations that you thought would fit the article.

After several hours of doing back-and-forth work with Cassidy, breaking once for lunch and again for dinner, it was nearing 6:30--and that night’s game started at 7. “Me and some of the other PR staff are going to watch the game in the clubhouse, you’re more than welcome to join us,” she said, her eyes bright.

“I will!” you exclaimed, grabbing your purse and standing up from your desk. “I just have to check in with someone first.” Cassidy nodded and made her way out of the office, turning to lock the door as soon as the both of you were out. You were sure she assumed the person you had to check in with was Greg; little did she or anyone else know that you were about to sneak over to meet with Shawn Mendes. The simple thought of it sent adrenaline coursing through your body.

You took the elevator down to the first floor, retracing your steps back to the door you’d noticed was marked with Stadium Access. You checked to make sure that nobody was paying you any particular attention (as if anyone cared about The Intern), and you pushed the door open to reveal a long corridor much like the one Shawn had described.

You found the door closest to the locker rooms just as he had said, gingerly tugging it open and breathing a sigh of relief when you saw Shawn leaning against the wall in waiting. His head perked up at the sound of the door opening, and he smiled from ear to ear when he saw it was you.

“Your dress matches my uniform,” Shawn remarked, pulling you in for a hug after you’d shut the door behind you. This took you by surprise, but your arms found his waist as his squeezed around your shoulders.

“That was intentional,” you grinned, pulling away from him.

He smiled. “How was your first day?”

“Overwhelming,” you admitted. “I’m the only girl of the six interns, and only one of the guys has been all that nice to me. But there’s a girl named Cassidy who works in the same department as I do and she’s really cool, she’s not much older than me. I met a lot of people with such awesome jobs, though. I’d kill to be where they are.”

“First of all, those guys are insecure and you can’t let their fragile egos get inside your head, especially since you’re probably ten times smarter than them. And secondly, you’re gonna rock this internship. You will be where those people are, I know it.”

You smiled, suddenly shy from his compliments. “Thanks, Shawn. I really hope that’s true.”

“It is. How do you feel about the game?”

“You’re asking me how I feel about the game?” you laughed incredulously.

“Your opinion’s as good as any,” Shawn said, looking down at you with a closed-mouth smile that touched his eyes.

You couldn’t help but smile back, feeling your heart beat a little faster under the weight of his stare. “Well, I hear the Blue Jays’ rookie second baseman has quite the batting average right now. Think as long as he keeps hitting like he has been the game will be just fine.”

It was Shawn’s turn to be bashful from your playful compliment but, right as he was about to answer, you heard the loudspeaker announce that there were ten minutes until the first pitch.

You sighed. “You should go. You don’t even have your eye black on yet.”

“Do it for me?” he asked, reaching into the back pocket of his white pants and handing you the tube.

You felt another shy smile cross your face. “Move your hat,” you said softly, not wanting the cap’s brim in the way of the marks you were about to put under his eyes. Shawn reached up to take his hat off, placing it backwards on your head with a smug smile. You bit back a grin as you reached up to paint the lines on his face, gingerly taking hold of his chin to get a steadier hand. You could feel his gaze on you, and your heart was hammering in your chest so loudly you’d have sworn he could hear it.

“There,” you said, your voice scratchy as you slid the lid back onto the tube and handed it back to him. “Bright lights have nothing on Mendes now.”

There was a pause, each of you wishing you’d had more than five minutes with the other and knowing you both had to go. “Same time here tomorrow?” Shawn spoke up, evoking a confused frown from you.

“What do you mean?”

“Here, fifteen minutes before game time,” he answered matter-of-factly, and by this point you were grinning like a little kid.

“Okay, yeah. Same time tomorrow. But now,” you said, grabbing his hat off of your head and reaching up to place it back on him, “You have a game to win, and the team’s probably looking for you.”

He sighed. “You’re probably right. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“I’ll be here. Give ‘em hell, rookie.”

“You too,” he grinned, and with that he left the room, his metal cleats echoing as he jogged down the hallway to the locker room.

You leaned back against the wall, feeling like your breathing had stopped and relishing in the fact that this was actually happening to you. You smoothed down your hair, tangled from where Shawn’s hat had been, and made your way back to the offices to watch the game.

Oh, how you were starting to love Toronto.

Feedback is so appreciated, and let me know if you want a part two!! 

[incoherentbabblings]

Bang Bang Go Away Come Again Another Day

Inspired by a few asks I received last month regarding a potential Steph and Joker clash.  Stephanie not being higher on the Joker’s shit list despite having been both Robin and Batgirl pre!New52 is such a wasted opportunity.  I do wonder what he would have made of her.  Ao3 link here!

Stephanie didn’t really know what to do when she looked through the peep hole of her front door only to find the Joker waiting patiently outside, a humorously large gun in one hand.  

In hindsight she should have kept quiet and fled out the back door of her mom’s house, dragging Crystal (who was currently upstairs sleeping after her fifth night shift on the trot) with her.  

She should have grabbed her bat-com and rang the emergency bell as soon as she recognized the green and purple man in his stupid shoes on her doorstep.

She should have done a lot of things, but what she should most definitely not have done was acknowledge him.

“Hullo?” She called through the door, like an idiot, her tone baffled and not reflecting the correct level of fear as the one that churned in her gut.

As soon as the words left her mouth, she recoiled back in horror at herself. She felt her legs wobble and she curled down.  Her head continually banged against her knees whilst she silently swore, because honestly what the actual hell Steph don’t say hello as if he’s the mailman or something –

“Ms Brown?”  The Joker’s annoyingly chirpy voice drifted through the wood. “Ms Brown, I want to have a word with you.”

“Uuuhhhh, she can’t answer the door right now.”

“…Why?”

“She’s dead?”

Her mouth had apparently reached a stage where it was running independently from her brain.  Her hands fortunately, had caught up with her head, and pulled out her emergency alarm. The others would be here soon, maybe she could keep him talking in the meantime.

“Ah! No, see, that’s the issue.”  

And then his grubby hand was poking through the letter box, nails grimy and stained dark red.  

“You are very clearly not dead.  And I – the Joker –”

“I know who you are.”   She interrupted rudely.

There was a slight pause as he processed being cut off so sharply.  Stephanie heard her breath shudder out of her like a death rattle while she waited to see what he what say or do next.  Swallowing uncomfortably, she slowly moved back towards the door as quietly as she could manage.  She was unable to look away from his fingers poking through the slit. Suppressing the urge to kick them, she tried not to physically escalate the situation.

He coughed, and his hand became reanimated once more.  She flinched back.  

“Ahem.  That was rude,” the Joker confirmed. “Anyway, my point is, it is my job, as the Joker, to remedy that.”

“…No thank you.”

He seemed amused by her flippant tone.  It was a defence mechanism more than anything.  She would always bite back at her father and his gang of losers when they were trying to frighten her, just as she bit back at Black Mask, at Scarecrow, at the whole lot.  She tried not to treat the Joker any different.

His fingers continued to flutter through the letter box.  

“I know you were Robin.”

“I was a black-haired boy?”

“No, no, no.  There was a blond girl for a moment.  Remember?”

“Not really.”

She was on the floor now, knees pressed up against her chest and pressed against the left-hand side of the door in case he tried to push his way in.  For the moment he seemed a bit defeated, like he actually believed her.  The fingers went droopy.  Suddenly he perked up again, flapping them frantically, Stephanie tried not to flinch.

“Ah!  You’re lying! I know Stephanie Brown was Robin and I know Black Mask thought he killed her and I was so soso so so sososo mad about it but HEY!  Here you are alive and well and Batgirl, therefore my title as the defeater of Robins remains unchallenged.  Harvey couldn’t do, Roman couldn’t do it, only me!  And hey, you’ve been Robin and Batgirl, so I get double dibs!”

His laughter vibrated through the wood of the door and made Stephanie squeezer her eyes shut.  Horrid gurgling laughter that seemed to pierce her right to the bone.  He withdrew his hand from the letter box, but there was no relief, as soon he began frantically banging on the door.  Stephanie silently begged for her mother to remain asleep through the racket.  

“Open up Ms Brown!  Chop chop!”

“Why would I open the door?”  She bit out, pressing a palm against the lock and latch.

“Because the sooner you open the door the quicker it’ll be over… durrr!”

“Just go away!”  She cried out, feeling like a small child telling off a bully on the playground.

The banging stopped abruptly, and the Joker sighed.  Disappointed with her uncooperative nature, he stomped off.  

Waiting for nothing, Stephanie threw herself upstairs.  She dashed to her closet, grabbing her utility belt and nothing else, before crashing into her mother’s bedroom.

Her mom was sound asleep under the covers, facedown on the pillows. Like her daughter, she drooled while she slept.  

“Mom mom mom mommommommommoooommmmm,” Stephanie slurred, shaking Crystal aggressively.  Crystal grunted and flailed her arms, trying to throw her daughter off the bed.

“Stephanie what the actual –”

“The Joker is here… mom, we need to get out.”

Immediately her mother was alert, shoving past her daughter with a near slap to the face, grabbing shoes.  She looked a sight without her glasses, drying spit on her chin and in blue plaid bottoms and white t-shirt that read Beauty Sleep in obnoxious glittery fonts.

“Why is he here?”

Stephanie gulped.

“Stephanie!”

“Why do you think?  For a cup of coffee?”

“Don’t get snippy with me!”

“I’m stressed!”

“And I’m not?”

“Mom please we need to –”

The sound of glass crashing, the kitchen window downstairs, interrupted Stephanie and she froze, looming over her mother putting on her nurse shoes.

“Shit.”  They both muttered.

Stephanie burst over to the bedroom door, shutting it and began dragging her mother’s chest of drawers across.  She huffed at its weight, but Crystal got the idea quickly, running to the other side and helping her slide it in front of the door. 

“Help’s on its way.”  Stephanie promised her mother.

Any residual comfort from that statement broke with the sound of the gun firing around the house.  Crystal had gone paler than Stephanie had ever seen her.  

Stephanie dared to tip toe to the window, the curtains still closed, and peaked from underneath.  They could go through and roll down the eave to a safe distance to drop down.  It was what her mom had banged into her about the off chance of a large housefire, but for all Stephanie knew the Joker had his minions milling around outside, waiting for her and her much slower mother to come clattering out.  

Her little communicator, the one she had been gripping since she first blurted a greeting to the man downstairs, started to flash amber.  A few more minutes.

“Oh, thank god.”

Gun shots burst through the door frame then, some getting wedged in the chest of drawers, some flying through above and burying themselves into the wall. One whizzed past Stephanie’s head, through the curtains and breaking the windowpane.  Stephanie wheezed and threw herself back over to her mom, who had remained off to the side, out of range.  She gasped and pulled Stephanie close.  The two grappled at each other, both trying to position themselves in a potential line of fire in place of the other. The bullets continued to be fired for a solid minute, the room becoming utterly wrecked in the process.

“Ms Brown are you dead yet?”

With her mother in the room Stephanie couldn’t find the nerve to antagonise him anymore.  She instead gripped at her mother’s shirt tighter.

“Mom I need to –”

“No.”  Her mother hissed, refusing to hear whatever she had planned to allow Crystal to escape.

“Blondies, I can hear you both.  This house is not very soundproof.”

“Oh, fuck off!” Stephanie yelled.

“Rude!” Another minute of fire.  “How about you come out and your mother won’t die? Just you huh? I mean admittedly with Jason I –”

Thankfully he didn’t get to finish that statement, as with a cartoonish glurk he was abruptly thrown back from the door.  Distantly the two women heard him fall down the stairs.  

Stephanie gulped but didn’t move.  Her mother had her hand buried deep in Stephanie’s blonde hair, stroking it to an almost painful degree.

“Mom that hurts.”

The hand stopped, and reluctantly, slowly, let her go.

“Sorry.”

“It’s good.”

Looking around the wrecked room with the sounds of sirens arriving, both women jumped when somebody attempted to open the hole ridden door.

“Stephanie.” Called Batman from the other side.  Immediately both women jumped up and went to remove the collapsing drawers from the door.

The slightly bizarre image of Batman standing in her suburban home (which was utterly and wholly ruined thank you Joker) facing a middle-aged woman in her jammies and a late teen whose hair was half falling out of a ponytail made Stephanie want to laugh.

She didn’t.

“Thank you.  We’re fine.” She assured Bruce.  He nodded.

“Physically” Crystal interjected.  She pushed pass the two to survey the damage.  Bringing her hands up to her mouth, she cried out.

“Oh, my poor house!”

Stephanie frowned at the broken furniture and ruined walls.  A framed picture that had fallen off the wall of her and Tim and Cass had a bullet in each of their heads.  An orchid plant, one she had bought her mother two Christmases ago, lay shattered in the hallway, soil ruining the carpet.  Returning her gaze to Batman, she nudged him conspiratorially. He stared back for a moment and rocked on his heels from her shoulder nudge.

Heaving a sigh, he muttered for Stephanie’s ears alone, “I can help with that.”

“Thank you.”  Shoving her hands in her pocket, she tried not to look as worried as she felt.  “…He knew.  About me.  What I am and been.”

Would they have to leave Gotham for their safety?  Joker knew about the others, was she just the passing fancy that had popped into his head at that moment upon learning the news?  Would he grow bored after this?  Or was she now forever to be cautious of someone wanting her head on a spike?  Someone who knew her name, knew her mother, knew her address…knew everything that mattered? Black Mask was gone.  The Joker… he always remained.  A laughing phantom.

“Hnn.”

Bruce’s unhelpful response made her hackles rise.

“Did you know he knew?”   Tersely, she waited for a quick and solid denial.

No such response came, only silence, and Stephanie felt a familiar lump of disappointment return to her stomach.  Her mouth dropped open in a grimace, and she choked on a breath.

“…Well, glad to see my time as Robin continues to be a legacy of a never-ending nightmare.”  And then she shoved past, the reality of what had just occurred catching up with her. Her eyes grew wet, and her breathing became shaky.  

She managed to whisper, “I’ll see you on patrol later,” and then she walked over to her mother and held her tight.  When she looked over her mother’s shoulder, she saw Bruce had left, having no words of comfort to give.

She began sobbing in earnest, and Crystal gripped her close.

[timeoutforthee]

I was going to work on something else but I saw this post, and my brain suddenly went “well we’re doing this now” and we did this for 1,438 wORDS

Sympathetic baby deceit, big bro!Virgil, and Balloon artist!Roman

@asofterfan

Virgil did not particularly like carnivals. Yet here he was, on one of his precious, precious days off, no less. And why?

Because he was going to be good brother, dammit. And what would a good brother do? Not only would he go out to a carnival without complaining, he would win that snake plushie.

That’s what he told himself as he carefully aimed his throw.

Dolos had been speeding all around the carnival, while Virgil had kept his eye out, knowing eventually, somewhere, there would be a snake plushie, and his little brother would definitely want it. It was his job, as a good big brother, to get it for him. Dolos stood on his tiptoes, with his chin sitting on the counter, watching Virgil throw baseballs at the glass bottles.

“Aww,” he said, “I thought that one hit.”

“Yeah,” Virgil said, sending the booth owner a glare, “I thought it did, too.”

“Sorry!” The random girl said, with a smile that said she was not at all sorry, “Would you like to try again?”

Dolos glanced back at his brother. He had on an angry face, so he pulled himself away from the booth and grabbed on to his sleeve.

“Let’s go, you can’t spend all your tickets.”

“D, it’s fine-”

“But then you can’t go on anymore rides with me!”

Well. He’s got a point.

Virgil held out his hand, and Dolos grabbed it.

Really, this day had not been going to plan at all. It wasn’t just the snake. It had been drizzling off and on all day, so some of the rides were shut down. Dolos was just excited to wear his favorite poncho. Now the snake? Virgil could see his brother looking back at the booth out of the corner of his eye.

“Don’t worry,” Virgil said, “We can get another snake.”

Dolos had plenty of snake toys, it was just more fun to win one, and they both knew it.

Suddenly, they both heard someone call out “Balloons!” They turned to see someone Virgil’s age, maybe a little older, armed with a small air pump and balloons of all shapes and sizes. “Come get your balloon animals, any creature you want, I can create!”

A little girl in pigtails zoomed pass them, running up to him. She stopped in front of him, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

“Yes, step right up! What can I get you? A dragon? A witch? A dragon witch?”

“Seahorse!”

“Seahorse?” The worker pauses, but then breaks out into a smile, “I can do that!” He starts pumping up the balloons, and as he starts twisting, another boy comes up to him. He presents the seahorse to the little girl with a flourish as more kids start surrounding him.

“Virgil…,” Dolos’s eyes are wide, “Do you think he can make me a snake?”

“...yes, D, I think he can make you a snake,” Virgil says as two boys slip on fire-breathing dragon bracelets to start a battle.

Dolos looks over at Virgil, who lets go of his hand. He walks up, shyly. His shyness is not helped by the fact that kids are now staring at him. Sometimes that happened with his eczema. The stares actually come in handy this time to, because it catches the attention of the carnival worker, who offers him a smile.

“And for you, good sir?”

Dolos giggles, before proudly saying, “A snake!”

The smile slips from the worker’s face. Virgil can feel himself starting to glare.

“Are you sure? You can have anything you want!” he sings out.

“But...I wanna snake…,” Dolos says, and now his lips is trembling and oh. If his little brother’s day is ruined because of this asshole-

The asshole in question looks up quickly. Virgil catches his eye and starts wildly gesturing in an attempt to say cut the shit and give him the snake. It works.

“Oh! A snake, marvelous choice!” He pulls out a yellow balloon, which matches Dolos’s poncho. He quickly blows it up and does a few twists, just to give it a head, before handing it over.

“Thaaaaaaank you!” Dolos says, running over to Virgil. “Virgil, look.”

Virgil is busy glaring.

He’s very satisfied to see the carnival worker falter and offer him a slightly shaky smile, like he’s not sure if Virgil is going to storm over to him in a blind rage. Good. Let him be afraid.

“Virgil!”

Virgil keeps his gaze steady.

“Virgil!”

Virgil turns to his brother, and offers him a smile.

“Wow!” he says, “That’s sooooo cool!”

“I know!” He holds the snake against his chest, “Look, it matches my poncho.”

“Amazing!”

“More amazing than the stupid stuffed green one.”

“Yes, much more amazing.”

Meanwhile, Roman is staring at them in confusion. He was sure that this scary emo kid was going to go full suburban mom on him about 5 seconds ago, and now he was cooing over his work? Of course, it wasn’t his best, and it wasn’t exactly because it was his work, but still…

Then the little kid turns his back and the older brother is back to glaring. He brings his fingers to his eyes, then flicks them so they’re pointing to Roman.

Okay. So he’s intimidating in a dorky kinda way. But still very intimidating. But it doesn’t matter, they’re gone now. That’s what Roman does, he offers kids a little joy, and then they’re on their way. It was why he loved working at the carnival.

~

“Waitwaitwait Wait!” Roman stopped at his car, frowning.

“Sorry, the balloons are already packed up-” he stops when he turns and sees a small, crying child. Oh no.

“It popped!” Dolos cries, trying to stop his lip from trembling, “Could I please maybe…?”

“Wait, you’re the kid who wanted that super cool snake, aren’t you?”

He sniffs, dabbing at his eyes, and nods.

His trunk of balloons technically is packed up, and he’s off the clock but it’s a snake.

“I can do that for you,” Roman says, opening his trunk and revealing a mess of equipment he has from all his different jobs.

“Whoa,” Dolos says, eyes wide, “It’s so colorful.”

“Well, join the carnival and your life becomes colorful.”

“Do not do that again,” Virgil says, running up to his little brother, “I turned around and you were gone.”

Dolos’s eyes went wide and innocent. “I’m sorry, V. I just saw the Balloon Man and I thought maybe-”

Virgil’s cheeks flushed, “D, you can’t just-”

Roman pulled out his air pump and found a spare yellow balloon. “It’s fine, honestly.” He fills the balloon with air and gives it a few twists before handing it over. Dolos beams.

“Let’s go,” Virgil says.

Roman smiles at them, before Virgil turns around and mouths the word “Stay” at him.

Wait. What? What did he do? He thought he fixed it. Did he not fix it? Was he in trouble? Oh God, was he going to get another soccer mom like lecture, he could not deal with that right now-

Before he can freak out any longer, Virgil is back.

“Sorry, I just had to get Dolos in the car,” he says, “I just wanted to...thank you. Or whatever.”

“...couldn’t you have done that in front of your brother?”

“Yes, but I couldn’t ask you how much I owe you in front of my brother.”

“How much you-it’s a snake. I’m like 90% sure I didn’t even need to make the head.”

“Oh no, Dolos would have loved it either way-”

“See? You don’t owe me anything.”

“Are you sure? I know you’re technically off, I didn’t even see you down here, we’re like two cars over, and D just took off when he saw you. I didn’t even see him for a while. Almost gave me a panic attack.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Roman pauses, “Actually, you know what would be helpful?”

“Helpful…?”

“If your brother, or any of his friends have birthday parties? See if they need a balloon artist,” Roman pulls a card out of his pocket, handing it over.

“Roman’s Creations,” he reads off.

“That’s my name, by the way.”

Virgil nods, “Mine’s Virgil. I’ll let people know,” he smirks, “I’ll tell them you make the most amazing snakes.”

“Hey, if kids only want snakes…”

“Also, I’m...I’m sorry about earlier, it was dumb,” Virgil says, “I’m just a little...protective, is all.”

“I can tell,” Roman says, “I’ll tell you what, get me a gig and all is forgiven.”

“I can’t promise that. But I’ll see what I can do,” Virgil says, pocketing the card.

[what-even-is-thiss]

I wrote a creative essay about my least favorite aunt. Yeet.

Read it if you’d like. I’m just happy to finally get the damage she caused me mostly dealt with to the point where I feel comfortable writing about it.

Language Barrier

Whenever I speak in German my expressions and hand gestures suddenly become ridiculously animated, like I’m trying to make up for my lack of vocabulary with a sign language that hasn’t been invented yet. One that only I know the meaning of. I flap my hands around like a maniac and point to things I don’t know the words for and make broken sentences that sound like a caveman made them as I misgender inanimate objects left and right.

Das. Das. That. That. This. This.

I can physically feel my brain rewiring itself. I speak like fool. Wrong order spoken are words. Sometimes anxiety make cry me. Social kind.

However, I speak much more German than my uncle’s mother and stepfather speak of English so I’m forced to use what I can and hope they can understand my thick American accent as we stay with them in Southern Germany. Everyone keeps trying to reassure me that my German is very good, but I can’t stop out of order speaking.

Kann ich habe Brot mehr bitte? Can I having bread more please?

I want to crawl into a hole and die.

My grandmother warned me that a person can grow tired of the amount of bread that Germans eat and according to that Bible thing that we both read man cannot live by bread alone. I’m starting to understand both of those things, eating bread and jam for breakfast yet again because I don’t like butter with marmalade and there’s no cheese left.

The weather, unlike my breakfast or Deutsche Grammatik, is perfect. Slightly cold, sunny and overcast at the same time. The neighborhood that my uncle’s parents live in is beautiful, suburban, on the edge of Schwartzwald, known in English as the Black Forest. I can’t remember the name of the town but I do know that we tried to get a brewery tour and my aunt, her twins, and I waited in the van as my uncle talked loudly at somebody in a local dialect until he got out of them that they don’t do tours anymore.

We went to a rope climbing course instead. My uncle, tall and skinny, balding, fit, took the twins, boy and girl, skinny like their dad, not taking after their mother, my mother’s sister, and went rope climbing in Schwartzwald.

I’m stuck talking with my aunt as we stand below the ropes course and I’m tired of speaking in German so we both take time to find comfort in each other’s distinctly Californian manner of speaking.

My aunt is a character. That’s a polite way to describe her if you don’t want to speak ill of someone that’s not in the room. She wears no makeup except for when she’s getting her picture taken or going somewhere important and she always looks stressed and tired with her eyes just a little too wide open. She’s maybe four inches shorter than me but she has the ability to make me feel like I only come up to her waist. In my mind she’s always wearing a knee length beige skirt and a green t-shirt even though she owns other articles of clothing than that, including more than 20 pairs of shoes. Her eyes are wide and her hands move in an animated fashion even when she speaks English. When she speaks German she becomes an exaggerated version of herself, perhaps to make up for her thick American accent and occasionally sketchy grammar. She has lived in Switzerland since the 90s and spoken German since the 80s. I once asked her how to tell what a noun’s grammatical gender is. She told me that she had no idea.

I didn’t know my mother for very long before she died but my grandmother tells me that when my mom was young, to describe her sister, she quoted a poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. The one about the little girl with the little curl who when she was good she was very good and when she was bad she was horrid.

My aunt’s hair is straight, but other than that the poem describes her very well. Today would be a day she was horrid.

I don’t claim to be a perfect human being. I can be a bitch sometimes just like anybody else. The thing is though, my aunt never let me know when I was doing something bitchy like a normal person would. Instead she let me keep on doing it until she was ready to explode. And then she exploded.

Or, no. Not exactly being bitchy. Just doing something that she didn’t understand or like. She’s a very animated person and her voice goes like

And

Up.

Down.

All the time.

She’s very expressive. I, on the other hand, am not that excitable. I smile, yes, I cry, yes, but I try to be stoic. I like being stoic. It feels natural. I don’t want to express to everyone around me every time I am excited or upset. In my opinion it’s none of their business. I also tend to express gratitude through actions and gift giving rather than hurting my face and voice smiling and screaming all of the time.

I had thought bringing gifts from America, delivering onto my aunt’s family the ever elusive box of grits and Bakersfield candy and trinkets from Disneyland Anaheim would show gratitude. I was under the impression that helping to cook dinner, pack the van, refill the ice trays, take care of the twins, carry the groceries, clean the house, would show how much I loved her. I learned though, in a firestorm under the canopy of dark trees and children riding on zip lines that our love languages didn’t translate properly and she thought that my lack of expressiveness meant that I hated her. She was hysterical about it. I then expressed myself by changing into a lovely shade of red and producing saltwater from my eyes.

Climbing hills is a thing you get used to when you spend time in Central Europe. Walking for three or four kilometers isn’t such a feat in a valley, where the ground is flat and rarely changes, but in hilly terrain you quickly learn just how long that distance is and how much walking can hurt. Locals take no pity on you because they expect that everyone has those muscles built up in their legs when you’ve never had to use your legs like that for long stretches of time before.

Navigating emotion and expectations at home is easy. There is one language being spoken and everyone uses it to tell each other what’s wrong. When staying with my aunt for long periods of time, however, you start to understand emotional exhaustion. Something that would take half a minute to communicate takes up ten minutes of screaming because she expected you to know everything. A flat crowded city turns into a hilly countryside with no help for miles. You quickly learn how to swear in German because she pushes her husband to screaming as well.

Scheiße.

Eventually my uncle finished with the ropes course and pulled me away from her. He gently explained to me in English what we were going to be doing for the next few days. I stopped leaking water from my eyes and tried to remember what had prompted her to start yelling at me but I couldn’t figure it out. Another talent she has. Distracting you from linear events.

While I was in Germany there was a terrorist attack in Münich. Brexit was fresh in everyone’s minds. My first presidential election would be happening in November. I only understood about half of what was said on the news. My little cousins and their dad took turns translating for me. I had the feeling that I still wasn’t getting the whole story.

My aunt and uncle have twins. Test Tube Babies. The girl is the older twin but strangely enough doesn’t hold it over her brother’s head, which would fit perfectly with her personality. The boy takes after his mother in some respects, namely her loud voice.

When we went to Prague we stayed in a campground because that’s a lot cheaper than a hotel and that family affords a second house because they’re stingy. Almost every morning it was a struggle to get the boy out of bed. He and his sister were almost ten and he screamed and refused to move. He cried. He was loud. No amount of discipline worked. His sister stood around quietly going about her business, as did I. We did the same thing when her parents got into screaming matches.

Prague is an old city. A busy city. I loved it, even with all of the pay toilets and Czech bluntness. Even when an angry Czech lady smoking a cigarette yelled at me in broken English for not knowing that I had to pay for the restroom. The old castles and cathedrals and statues and just the right amount of dirtiness in the subway more than made up for it.

My aunt payed for me to go look at a museum that she didn’t want to look at. She told me to take all the time I wanted as the rest of the family waited outside. I didn’t sense any passive aggressiveness that time, so I did. It was a complex that was part of the Prague art museum, a system spread out around the city. The section I walked through by myself was a collection of medieval Roman Catholic art. Stained glass windows, paintings, tapestries. I’m a Lutheran that lives with atheists, so my experience with Catholic art is mostly non existent. Atheists don’t have religious figures to draw and Lutherans are extremely stingy with their images, worried about crossing into the realm of idolatry.

One thing I noticed was that Mary appeared everywhere, even in stories I thought she didn’t belong. In some images she stood equal with Jesus, reminding me of a female God. She seemed mature, different from the outcasted teenage mother I had told children about in Sunday School classes. Different from the refugee that had been painted for me in sermons. I wondered what kind of mother this Mary was. I wondered what her Hebrew sounded like. Or, maybe this Mary spoke Czech and the Mary in Germany spoke German and the Mary in the Vatican spoke Latin and the Mary my Catholic friends at home looked to spoke Spanish. Maybe if I prayed to Mary she would speak English. Maybe she would turn out to speak German and would look down at the frantic dancing of my hands, trying to find meaning in it.

But I don’t pray to Mary, and neither do my aunt or uncle. I report to them what I saw and my observations about Mary. Namely that she seems to be everywhere. My aunt doesn’t quite pick up on the fact that I simply find it interesting and takes it as an invitation to rant about Catholics. I squint at her as we walk back to the subway. I’m trying to figure out if I’d somehow been speaking another language. She certainly seems to be. Maybe it’s a generational gap. Maybe it’s just her, but I try to turn the conversation back to a tone of tolerance rather than complaint. A battle I quickly lose.

Later, in a public park in that busy city, my aunt yelled at me and cried because I had been calling her by her first name rather than Aunt. I nearly start leaking again. I shake. I think she’s speaking English but I don’t understand it. I physically step away from her as she accuses me of not seeing her as family. At the bottom of the hill we’re standing on a dog plays fetch with his owner. Neither of them take notice of the screaming middle aged American woman throwing accusations her deceased sister’s child as her own children zone out and wait for it to be over. No help comes. Nobody translates for me and Google Translate doesn’t have a setting for this.

Twenty minutes later she jokes with me as we find a rare but welcome burrito shop. I buy a mango soda imported from Mexico and it softens my homesickness. We eat on the steps of a light rail station. I laugh. The twins laugh and bounce around, talking to each other in a mixture of English, Swiss-German, and high German. The boy takes a bite out of my burrito and thinks the fact I can eat something that spicy makes me the coolest person in the world. My aunt laughs with me. We make plans for when we go to Southern Germany and visit her husband's parents. That’s where his dentist is. He needs a bit of work done. We’ll have fun, she promises. We had a good time in Prague. I put the bad times in a shoebox for later and then agree with her.

After she yells at me in Schwartzwald for not showing emotion I go quiet. I put more things in the shoebox I’ve made in my mind to deal with later. I learn that all of them have been eavesdropping on the phone calls I’ve been making to my dad and friends back home. My aunt approaches me about how I complained about the yelling. I’m suddenly paranoid and wonder if she read some of the postcards I sent out. I watch my words now and put the ones that might set off her fuse in the box. The little house outside of Zurich has started to feel like home when I return to it and I’m slightly disgusted at that realization. The flowers all make my eyes water and I’m not given nearly enough allergy pills. I still don’t understand what language she’s speaking. Her words are in English or German, as are mine, but we still don’t understand each other.

Currants, especially the red ones, are beautiful fruit. Not easy to find in stores, even in Europe, so you’ve gotta pick them yourself. My aunt and uncle have a small city of currant bushes living in their backyard that hugs the bank of the stream that runs through the neighborhood. They’re beautiful and inviting, asking you to eat them please, but when you do your face scrunches up at the tartness. I never did care for sour tastes, so I found my own way to make the currants sweet by baking them into scones. At first my aunt was sceptical of my scones but after some reassurance from her kids that they didn’t taste like cinnamon she tried them and agreed that I did a good job. They were sweet and went really well with milk or tea. We all enjoyed them very much. Nobody had to translate anything.

Every member of that family gives excellent hugs when you can get them. They share drinks and food with each other, a concept that shocked me at first, but I quickly fell into the rhythm of it with them. They bought me my first beer and took me to Worms, Germany. I loved that place. I got to see one of the first print versions of Luther’s German translation of the bible. I ate pastries and tea with them at an outdoor cafe. It was cold and wet in the middle of the summer and the cobblestones made it even gloomier. The moving feet on the sidewalk seemed to have a language of its own and the new architecture standing by the old had no words to be translated but told a story nonetheless.

My experience in Europe was like Europe itself. Americans expect it to be shiny and beautiful, and it is, but you also have to pay to use the restroom which leads people to piss in the street. You will also find cigarette machines on almost every corner. There is one right outside my aunt and uncle’s second house. The packages of cigarettes have pictures of black lungs and diseased gums on them. The people smoke anyways. Europeans are people. They have drama, they worry about money, they cry, they abuse, they kick, they scream, they love. All the problems you had in America won’t disappear over there, and in fact you might find some new problems you didn’t expect. Like not finding salsa or not knowing how to deal with carnival rides that have no line and are boarded like a much more violent version of musical chairs. And don’t expect to practice your target language there either. The people will hear your accent and excitedly try and use you to practice English. And even if you do speak the language, don’t expect to understand with everyone. Hand gestures can only go so far.

When I got home I left the German language behind me for the most part. I also slowly cut off most contact with my aunt’s family. Six weeks spent putting things in a shoebox and not speaking whatever language my aunt was speaking with English and German words was enough for me. By the time I opened my shoebox a few months later it was rotten, smelly, and leaking. It took over a year to clean it out and it’s still warped and stained, containing whispers of my own desperate language that would never penetrate my aunt’s skull or jump over the barrier we had built together.

My rotten shoebox is revolting to look at, and while I was cleaning it parts of the mess got onto the happy memories but thankfully they’re still there. The cathedrals, the warm hugs, the new foods, and comforting rain are all there. Late nights and early mornings, potato pancakes and beer, museums and trees and the times I could honestly say; Ja, ich bin glücklich. Yes, I am happy. And thankfully that sentence is easy to translate.

[sweet-or-sarcastic]

More discovered Trash/Treasure

Here’s something I published on my Fanfiction account when I was a freshman in high school. 

It was unusual. The mad scientist wasn't picking up his calls.

Ever since the invasion and the defeat of the Lowardians, Ron and Drakken (who he sometimes would call Dr.D) started to get to know each other better. The two discovered that they had quite a lot in common from liking the same TV shows to having similar stories about being bullied in school. Ron couldn't deny, he and Drakken were starting to become…friends. They even dedicated every Saturday as "Guysday".

That's what worried him, Drakken wasn't to be seen. The two agreed to meet at the Cow and Chow near the destroyed Bueno Nacho. Ron hated giving his money to the competing food-chain of his favorite restaurant, but it was the only place to get fast-food while Bueno Nacho was being rebuilt. However, it was a half-hour since the suggested meeting time, and Drakken was a no-show.

"Where could he be?" the teen thought to himself.

Ron looked at his phone, only to see junk mail and a missed call from an unrecognizable number. He decided to call for some help.

"Hey Wade, do you mind doing me a favor?"

The young genius was sitting in his room at his usual computer Even though Wade's been going outside a lot throughout the year, there are still some days to stay inside a go back to his roots. "Sure Ron, what do you need?" He asked, taking a drink from his soda.

"I know this is probably weird, but can you track down Drakken's phone?"

Wade looked at Ron with both confusion and interest. "Why would you need it? Last time I checked, hasn't been causing problems since his award ceremony"

Ron took a deep breath. "I know it's just…he was supposed to meet me for lunch but he hasn't shown up. I'm not going to lie, I'm a little worried,"

Wade couldn't believe what he was hearing. Sure Drakken had turned a new leaf, but he didn't expect Ron and him to become best buddies. "Well, since it couldn't hurt, let me just find his number and get some coordinates. This should only take a few moments"

"Cool. Thanks, Wade!"

As Wade went to work searching for an address, Ron looked around the restaurant thinking to himself about the disgust that is, Cow and Chow, each thought getting louder in his mind.

"How can people even eat here anyway, they don't even have bendy straws! What does this "Double Meatum" have that the Naco doesn't? Why does Bueno Nacho get all the damage but this [place still stand? I swear if I was able to…"

"RON!" Wade shouted getting annoyed that his friend dazed out on him.

"What?! Oh sorry, did you find something?" Ron apologized, running his hand through his hair.

"The phone is at 1773 Parker Street,"

Of course, it's at his house. "Why didn't I think of that" Ron thought. "Sorry if I wasted your time Wade, thanks away!"

"No problem, glad I could help"

Ron got off the phone and walked out of the restaurant. He then got his scooter and began to drive to the house of his ex-archenemy.

After accidentally going through a couple red lights and almost hitting an elder pedestrian, Ron parked in the driveway. The house, while very large, was also quite suburban. Since he saved the world and got respect from it in return, the mad scientist discovered no reason to be evil. Therefore, no reason to have an evil lair. However, what was strange was that his assistant and infamous thief, Shego, was still living with him. Everyone found it odd because the two weren't working together anymore (at least not to take over the world) and that the two weren't in a relationship. Ron was always trying to convince Drakken to make a move on the green woman, but he was too afraid of the pain rejection that would come.

As Ron walked up to the door, he couldn't help but hear muffles and other noises as he got closer to the door.

"What is going on in there?"

A few minutes later, the noises stopped and Ron decided to knock on the door.

It wasn't until almost 5 minutes and several hard knocks on the door later that the door slowly opened, and out came the blue man himself, only looking disheveled and tired.

Standing in front of Ron was the mad man himself, only in his boxers, hair messy and out of its usual band. The bags under his eyes were darker than usual but his body had somewhat of a glow. The man put his hand above his eyes, trying to keep them out of the summer sun. It was obvious that Drakken had either just woke up or never left his bedroom. "Stoppable, what are you doing here?" the mad doctor asked, scratching his head in confusion.

'You didn't show up at Cow and Chow, I thought something may have happened man."

Drakken looked at Ron for a moment, grateful but also weird out by his concern, and still confused by his unannounced visit. But then it hit him.

"Oh, doodles is today Saturday? I'm sorry, maybe we can go tomorrow," Drakken almost closed the door but Ron halted it with his foot.

"Why? Just put on some clothes and let's go!" Ron said excitedly

"I'm afraid right now is not a good time…I'm sort of in the middle of something" Drakken replied with his face becoming the color of embarrassment and sweat forming on his brow.

"Come on Dr.D what could be so important that you're in boxers, let's go" Ron cried, now pulling Drakken's arm, trying to get him outside.

"Ron I told you, I can't go! Please, just…"

"Drewsky!"

Both men stopped as a new voice entered. The voice sounded familiar but also held a sweetness and seductiveness that made it unfamiliar. Ron couldn't help but snicker as he realized why his friend "forgot" to meet him at the restaurant.

"So, you have a friend over? Wow, I never thought I would see the day."

Drakken's face was now a dark shade of blue and it took several moments to gain the confidence to respond. "Well yes, she's a friend of mine and you can see why I can't go out today"

"No problem, it's cool. What about Shego? Don't you think she'll be peeved that you have another girl over?"

Drakken tried but unsuccessfully made a smug smirk on his face and responded. "I don't think she'll mind."

It was at that moment that two arms slid up and circled the mad doctor's bare stomach. A head full of black hair then popped out and nestled between Drakken's neck and shoulder. Embracing was none other than his loyal and snarky partner, Shego, in what seemed to be the top of one of Drakken's pajama tops…and nothing else

"Wouldn't mind what?" Shego asked as she rubbed against Drakken, her hair giving his neck little tickles. She soon began placing kisses in the place her head was, making Drakken's knees start to tremble.

Ron didn't know whether to scream, run away, or both. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. He was friends with Drakken, sure, and he was glad that he finally made a move on Shego, but he couldn't help but want to grimace at the couple in front of him.

"Shego, dumpling, go back upstairs, I'll be there in a second," Drakken spoke as he tried to unwrap Shego's arms from his abdomen, though a part of him didn't want her to let go. Shego giggled and let go, amused with Drakken's inability to get her off of him.

"Okay, but don't take too long, you wouldn't want to keep me waiting would you?" Shego then left Drakken a lingering kiss on the cheek. Before leaving, she looked at Ron and said, "Sorry Stoppable, you don't mind me borrowing Dr.D this Saturday do you," with a tone of innocence that would never be associated with her.

Ron immediately shook his head at the woman

"Good"

The green woman then turned around and began walking up the stairs, her hips swaying in a way that made it even hard for Ron to look away. When the men heard the sound of the bedroom door closing, they both tried to avoid eye contact by pretending to stretch or aimlessly looking around. Ron decided to break the silence.

"So…"

"Yeah…"

"Well, I guess I'll see you tomorrow?" Ron asked putting his hands in his pockets and shrugging his shoulders high.

"Yes, tomorrow's fine" Drakken replied starting to close the door

"See you tomorrow!" Ron shouted as he walked away, waving his bye to his friend.

"Yeah, bye!" Drakken answered, fully closing the door.

As Ron walked back to his scooter, he began hearing the noises that he first heard when he arrived. Now that he thought about it, he realized what the noises were. Shuddering, the teen got on his scooter and rushed out of the driveway as soon as possible. As gross as it was, he was glad that the two ex-villains were finally together. Guess asking Wade for help wasn't such a waste of time.

I’m sure there are some mistakes here, but please be easy on 14-year-old Kiki.

[iknowwhoyouaredamianos]

Look into my eyes AKA Soft Andrew

Okay, we all know the EC by Nora and that Andreil will never have kids but I’m so antagonistic to it and that’s why they foster or adopt. Then I sat in the car this morning and listened to music and then this here popped up in my brain.

It all starts when Neil and Andrew have an easier life because they’re finally settled in a nice suburban house, playing together, but not for much longer, retirement in sight

One morning, Neil comes down into the kitchen, since the bed was empty although the sun has barely risen

Andrew sits on the terrace, watching the garden and smoking a cigarette in comfortable silence

Neil settles in next to him, kissing his neck, eyes still a bit heavy with sleep

“G’morning, Drew,” is all he mumbles and still enough to chase some goosebumps across Andrew’s body

Andrew feels it: today is the day he will tell him and it will be alright

“I thought about something for a while,” he starts, still watching the garden, not Neil, but still feels his dumbstruck gaze anyway

“What is it?” Andrew can sense the curiosity mixed up with a slight of fear in Neil’s voice. He could just let it slip but he wants Neil to know that this isn’t something bad, that he’s still safe, that he’ll always be safe with Andrew

“You don’t have to say yes to this just because you’re a junkie with yes and always, but I thought we could open up our life for someone else.” He still doesn’t look at Neil and can still feel how is face falls

“I- What do you- Why? Ain’t I enough or something like that?” There’s not even accusation in his voice and Andrew would laugh if he hadn’t trained indifference all his life. The fact that oblivious Neil Josten thinks Andrew Minyard would share - would get it on with anyone else but his idiot junkie husband - almost amuses him.

“Not like that, Neil.” He turns his head towards Neil, waiting for the pain to slip out of his gaze. “I talked to Bee about it and she thinks it’s a good idea.” He hesitates for a moment, for the first time in years the fear of falling in his guts. “I want to adopt with you. Yes or No, Neil?”

Neil sighs, clearly less afraid of raising a kid with him than being replaced by another man. He fidgets with his wedding band, clearly a sign that he’s unsure so far. “You don’t need to answer now. Just think about it.”

“I don’t need to, I know my answer.” He says it with a determination he usually had when he talks about stats in interviews. “I don’t know if we can do this, Drew, but if you want to, then I want to.”

Andrew nods, being all silent but intertwines their fingers, saying with a squeeze what he can’t with words.

It takes a whole year for them to finally get a son, a small human being, no parents left, both dead, a car accident- what a coincidence to both men.

The first days, Neil thinks about resigning, giving up, when the little boy cries and he can’t calm him down. When the boy is hungry and all Neil does is messing around with the bottles, never finding the right temperature. When this small small bundle is much too small for this world and he thinks he’ll break it. When all nightmares tell him that there can’t come something good of somebody like them.

One night, a month later, Neil wakes up, bed empty, crib too. He walks down the stairs but slows down when he hears a low voice, singing. In the kitchen is Andrew, their son wrapped into a blanket in his arms. He rocks him to a soft tune, a half empty baby bottle on the countertop, the biggest black circles under his eyes in years but a smile on his lips.

“Look into my eyes and you'll know that I truly love you / Look into my eyes and you'll see that no one will harm you / Look into my eyes and you'll feel that I will protect you / Look into my eyes and you'll feel that you belong /Look at me, look at me and little by little be sleepy / Look at me, look at me and you'll see that the dreams will come / Then close your tired eyes, so wet from crying / Close them and you'll see that no one will hurt you at all”

He sees it then and there: the little boy cries and Andrew CAN calm him down. When the boy is hungry and all Neil does is messing around with the bottles, never finding the right temperature, Andrew does. When this small small bundle is much too small for this world and he thinks he’ll break it, Andrew takes him with ease, as if it had always belonged there. When all nightmares tell him that there can’t come something good of somebody like them, he sees in that moment that there can, that there already has come something wonderful of them.

He goes up the stairs again, not thinking once about calling Andrew out, but he sleeps his best sleep in weeks, knowing that it was the right decision and that they’ll be alright. That sometimes 1+1 makes 1 and then becomes 3 and they are allowed to have this.

[thevisionmarvel]

We need to talk about WandaVision.

or the alternative title: I will be inactive for a while, but before I go, I need to write about what I think will happen, not what I want to happen, but what they, according to the facts and history of the MCU, might do. also a rant about why Tom King’s Vision is the worst.

Ps: older version used a fan-made logo to do a visual study, I'm Sorry for the mistake, this is the problem with second-handed information, I saw being used It Multiple times, and assume It things, I'm really sorry for the mistake.

Showrunner and Writers

So right now, the only thing we know about the writers room of the show, is the showrunner, Jac Schaeffer, and  Megan McDonnell, the write that confirmed writting for the series in a podcast. First kudos for the show having  a woman as showrunner.

I don’t know much about McDonnell work, but was in this podcast that the twilight zone  inspiration talk comes from, the host talks that she comes from this background of weird, twist, fantasy stories and how Wandavision seems a good fit , and she confirms that it is. see here in the wonderful post of the @officialstellaacosta​, and all the praise to @those-celestial-bodies​ that found about it the podcast.

I know a lot more about Schaeffer’s work, even before Marvel, also it rubs me the wrong way, that marvel is using the same writer to all the females centric movies and shows ( She is one of the screenwriters of Captain Marvel, she is the one that pinned the story of the  Black Widow movie), even after  what happened with Nicole Perlman . It’s hard to  talk about the Schaeffer’s work with Marvel because the only thing which premiered is Captain Marvel, and she was credited as a screenwriter really late, the movie has four screenwriters, the story of the movie is by other  three people, so this is a lot of hands, to know what was written by her .

So if you want to know more about her, this older interview with the Blaclist is great,  also it has a really insightful look  of her own writting that is backed up with the movies that she likes and mentions as inspirations to her writting:

“ I love movies that tell regular stories about regular people but I have a hard time writing straight. It’s often flat. (…)  I need a weird situation and then I try to put authentic characters having truthful reactions inside the weird. Also, the weird needs to be a commentary on something (..). The ideas I see through always begin with what if… “

She is also one of the writers of the new remake with Anne Hathaway and Rebel Wilson , The Hustle, but I know her work from her debut work that she directed and wrote  that it is TiMER (2009) is a indie rom-com with a really great idea, you know the post about clocks that rundowns  until you met you soulmate, so the movie is about that, and find the mudane in this weird set-up, it’s a average niche small movie, has almost every beat of a rom-com that you are expecting, just really stumbles in the end, like drop the ball  in themes about love, relationships that  wanted to talk about it, also the  end is really, boy it just undermine the theme of the movie and also  really hurt the most important platonic relationship in the story, also the comedy is so cringy sometimes and has some talk about latinos, that it’s really low-key xenophobic. Hope that since then she had learn with this. The writting has some really good bits. I think that the movie is in Amazon Prime video.

So what this tell about WandaVision : is that with the type of  writers attached to the project, the idea of putting Wanda and Vision  in a mudane environment seems likely to be true, them  and their powers being the  point of abnormality in the story.

this leads to…

 Comics (or me ranting about Tom King, a lot)

I never made a post just about Tom King’s Vision  after launched because I always feels like chewing glass  when I think about it , but this is me apologizing to you that is reading this post because of that, this will be more like a rant, so sorry, but I’ll try to be really on point  “stretch fingers again” 

So first we have to talk about the Story of the Scarlet Witch and  the Vision, their stories always were more ground, with the two limited-series really with them dealing with  relationships and family problems, this is one of the really good things of  their stories, it’s this insane of idea of a witch and a android falling in love, and with the all B-movie, pulp ideas just as backgrounds to really human  stories, and they did one of the things that comics most hate, they evolved,  we saw them build a family life, they moved to the suburban, they married, they had kids. One moment that always stayed with me, it’s really fun but also encapsulate all this, it’s the moment that they open their home to peter parker to take photos of their house, because is tax season, it just a really mudane thing, but it’s something that it clicks, yeah she is a witch, he is a android but their are grown-ups starting a family, tax season is going to be a part of their life now and then their fight the bad of the week with the help of spider-man. Simple, Fun but with a underline theme and story as comics  aimed at children should be.

And we know what happened,  which is one of more poignants things that happened  with them and  one of the best metaphors  of the worse  human thing that can happen wiith a couple, losing their child, one becoming emotionally distant and other shutting down even the memory of them, and Marvel butchered it. (but this is another post)

But before we talk about the comic, I need to talk about Vision, every  superhero has one panel that define who they are, think super-man flying, batman in the  gotham landscape, captain america punching hitler,  hawkeye falling of a building, spider-man hanging upside-down, iron-man with his hand blast, This to Vision, is him alone, crying after being accepted by the avengers, it is a moment of vulnerability, of pure emotion, he was created to destroy and now that he was accepted to protect, he cries. the tragedy of Vision is not that he is a android, and could he feel? it is that he feels, but is still learning what this is because he was created fully formed. and when he did, when the emotional reach super levels off having a healthy family dinamics, he was stripped of it, and had to regain bit by bit, just to lose again, the most horrible thing that marvel made to him is strip him of this. His creation by Ultron made him “emotional handicapped” for lack of a better term. It is like the most shakesperian super hero comics character, because he embodies the paradox of the media, no matter how much he grows emotionally,  a new writer always is going to come click on the switch and send him back to the start of the journey.  

Anyone that reads you know the wikipedia article of Vision can see that,  at least in broad strokes, and the last of the writers is Tom King, and boy, did it show that  he just didn’t care about the story of character, don’t get me wrong Tom King has talent, he is really a one note  type of writer, but he play the note really well, ( his book, and all his comics just use the same theme, same set-up, and boy, he has a portraying woman problem), you know he is really good in the most broad  branch in western fiction canon, “white man broading   being/learn to be d*cks but having feeling about it S/A” and he bring good ideas,  the execution is the problem”, the mental heatlh facilities for superheroes, genius idea, heroes in crisis not so much. the growth of the relationship between Batman and Selina, genius idea, the execution of  the wedding terrible. 

This wasn’t exactly what happened with Vision (2016)  that he wrote, the pitch for the comic is  spectacular, in his own words “Breaking Bad meets The Incredibles”, if I was the executive receving this pitch I would say yes and the execution is a well-made, well-paced psychologigal thriller, so why I am saying that just to think about it that I  want to chew glass, because this pitch was broken in the first sentence of the treatment of the comic, This is not breaking bad ( to people that don’t know , breaking bad is a series that starts as a man  doin it everything for his family, he starts trafficking drugs but we learn in seasons ahead that no, he is d*ck, alwasy been, just wanted an excuse to be bad), because he has Vision create his own wife and kids, and god , with everyone praising this series , I felt that i was alone, Vision created  his WIFE, with the only purpose of being his wife. this is not breaking bad, this is straight villain territory since the start , HBO has a series about how fucked up this is.

Vision became this monster even before the comic even starts, as a fan of the character I hated it , but I read it because I said well it’s a new experience, it’s dark, seeing one or my  favorites characters as a villain, but no things could get so much worse. Nobody pointed out the obvious, the despicable  thing he did, I waited the whole book  to when Virginia would stab Vision or disconnect every part of him,but it never came, he made even worse when he made Wanda gave her brainwaves and the idea of him making this. And in the last issue, Virginia fridged herself  with the words saying that everyone she killed was to prevent of Vision doing it the same, to preventing him of become a monster to  defend their family, and this is portrait as sad, because Vision save the world so many times, and Virginia saved one, killing herself  to make Vision not a monster.  And now I am screaming “HE IS THE MONSTER, YOU ARE THE VICTIM, STOP BLAMING YOURSELF”.

And you know what? this won the fucking Eisner of Limited Series, I saw people  saying that Vision became one of their favorite characters after the series,  the one time that Vsion is a fucking terrible villain, he is held as like poor vision  always trying to be normal, see he created a family, it didn’t work out because her wife didn’t want  to him become a monster, so she become one herself”. Like I said, he has a problem with portraing women This is the Carol and Markus situation again, bit by bit,  this is not a story that fit the character of Vision, he would never do this. and worse, everyone embrace it as a new take of the charater see this  “Tom King has reinvented Vision from a non-feeling hopeful-human into a deeply tragic character” I had to read this, multiple times.the only new take that he brought is turning Vision in a rapist monster, and not even adressing it,  I say this because this is something that no character can walk away from it, he molded the charaters to be in a story that didn’t fit them. 

But Marvel  and everyone tried , even me, pretend that this  didn’t happen but Viv still exists. Vision entered a new part of his story, being a father, healing.

What does this have to do with Wandavision? 

Well, one of the most thing that people say about it , it is that his run will be a influence in the series. So let’s start with the facts, this is the most recogniize work with the character in years, in decades really, (without counting the Chelsea Cain story that was canned before even start, but this made more news about how the industry of comics work that about the story itself)  it won a Eisner, and Feige like famous storylines, so yeah, it  a possibility, and Elizabeth said that  are  many comics that they are pulling from.

The story of  living in a suburb, like i said before, this is not something that Tom King invented, The Vision and the Scarlet Witch made this decades before him.

Being a psychological thriller, see this  I see being pulled right off his run. but it also made me think, most nothing in this shit-show of  comics would work  in the MCU, so it mosst of a genre type of thing that Feige would take from it.

Also, I saw people saying  with some tweets that King made, that he could be in someway be involved in the series. I’ll try to explain how this work, even if Marvel wanted to do an exact re-creation of his run, how things are made, they could do, because  Vision and every story made with him is property of Marvel,  They are not required to tell anything to him. Jim Starlin has this famous story about  how he had to pay to watch the first avengers, even if  he is the creator of Thanos, well Marvel became more “generous” with some creators , Starlin even has a cameo in Endgame, but they are just required to credited you, if they used some character that you created, so in King case, they would be required to put his name, just if they would used viv,vic or virginia. It’s not fair, but this is how it works. 

Do this mean that I’m saying that King is not involved? No, just saying that even if he is in the credits, as a “good action” by Marvel, this doesn’t mean that he nas any insight in the series, he could maybe  be invited as a consultant to the writers’s room , to present himself his comic , but nothing besides that.

But the tweets about a secret TV thing? well  by the dates of the tweets, yes he could being talk about some stuff about the series, but is more likely he is talking about this other project that he is making to TV, because in this dates, the show would even have a showrunner yet. (off note: Dude, but what  a problematic plot to a series)

Can I be wrong? Yes, but Marvel would never get some writer  without any experience in writting movie/TV scripts, not now, and with this commitment with other TV project, not happening it.

 for lack of a better term, Marvel : Phase Four. (when we talk about Feige, businness, contracts, etc.)

This would be so much easier if we woud still on the phase three, but this is new territory, we don’t know what the future that Feige and the Disney wants to the MCU, but  it has to go smaller, because they have to give space to “breath” after  something so big as Endgame, if this was a roller coaster, phase four  will start with a descent,  the next movie (100% MCU) will just come in 2020. and now with the series, the scope will branch more, and Marvel is a big corporation, that  is own by a even bigger corporation, so we can’t never forget  the business side of things when trying to discuss where they headed. So the series, mostly were a business decision, Disney+  is comming late in the game of streamings and they used the biggest brands to throw a knockout, but the movies will always be the flagship of the MCU, so we work with two possibilities: first, that  this talk about the series afffecting  the movies is salesman talk  and  if this happen is slighty  details or cameos or it is true and MCU will work  with a more branched continuity.

the first one, my cynical side still think that they will going to do this, but my rational side think is more unlikely because they will be minisseries  and Kevin Feige is producing them, everything we know about the Loki series  fits with this version, just taking one character  from the movies and isolating him in a series. How it was done before with AOS and Agent Carter.

The second one is a little more complicated, because then the series will mostly work as characters pieces, but nothing too big can happen in them, because if these characters will jump from TV back to the movies, if something has happened in TV, will have to be something that can explained in a quick  dialogue in the movie, or this characters will just appears in the movies in  the big fights (example: the people that were dusted just showing up to fight in the end) because no matter how bigger audience this series will have, the movies will be made to  a audience even bigger.

But just because something is a businness  decision, doesn’t mean that there is no motive in the narrative decision, (because if we stop to think, as a corporation every decision made by Feige and Marvel is a businness decision, buy you know what I mean). As in Endgame, Tony Stark and  Steve Rodgers have ends  that work with the narrative, but it’s not coincidence that between the two, the one with the bigger pay-check is the one that died and the other has an end  which allows the easily return.

Also contracts is another clue that we have: see this article . The contracts for the TV Shows don’t negate the contracts for the movies, besides the burocracy that new contracts  would definitively been made, because is two different medias, that they didn’t tried to surpass the old one, show that Marvel wants the option to still use the characters  without renegotiating a new one. Elizabeth and Paul made their multiple movies deals in the end of the phase two, also known as the moment that Marvel noticed the  “money problem” with  shorter contracts , so I would say that they still has at least one more movie.. and Marvel is mantaining the upper-hand with this new Tv contract while still holding movies in the old movie contract.

So why Marvel would do that, if the didn’t want to use the characters again? Maybe to keep a  safe net, to have the characters at hand but without having to worry of the actors getting very expensive pay-checks.

But maybe, is also has a narrative motive to do this , now  I am back to the  question that phase four is the calm between storms , the big shake it up  that is coming and we know it  it is the mutants and FF being in the MCU , but Feige said this is just comming in Phase Five ( I find this really sad, because then he loses the oportunity to use in Avengers Five, the roman numeral as  Avengers V X-Men, now he just have to used it the X of X-men). I don’t have a solid opinion besides they are holding the actors to something.

 Why? Feige is known by having famous storylines as just a base to the movies, remember when I said it  in the comics parts,  that every super-hero has  a panel that define who they are,  every fan hates it the one that Wanda has, is one of those moments that no character can overcome it unscarred, it also  is connected to the dissassemble of the Avengers,  and  the  original decimation (of mutants). and Feige after Dr. Strange, started saying that Wanda uses magic, maybe just to keep sinergy on brand, but he pointed out that she used it more chaotic, also don’t explain why every user of magic, use the gold one, and green one if is Loki, but she uses the red one. 

But Feige had a problem if he is doing the ground work for this, they made Wanda suffers a lot already, because she already lost it the brother, she had to lose it Vision in Infinity War  to Edgame to Happen, so how to set it up this, but in a way that it  can work if  you want to use it in the future , but without seems that it’s comming from nothing, you need time , more time that one movie has, you know what I’m saying it,

They using Wanda as literally as a time-bomb and using the series to set it up. and i hate this because  it can works both ways, make the series, about she learning more about the powers  and bring back Vision , blow it up in her face, boom here  is the  set it up, that can be explained it really fast in a movie, ends in a happy note,  in the movie, they just need explain well she was happy and then boom tragedy is a no win situation. 

Also  last businness tihings, how these series are being made it really show that it’s more about  Marvel with the ideas, because  most of the series already existed as a concept even  before the showrunners became involve, and in Wandavision in particular,  she don’t have experience as a showrunner, but  the marvel machine works very well, so I not so much worried about that.

The Concept Art

  So we just have the description about the art, but just say it that they are using 50′s type of Clothes. No, I don’t believe, they use time travel, but it’s more a asthetic choice, because the image of suburb that we have is still predominantly of  the 50′s, white fence, big house, so this other thing to contrast with them, they stand out.

Conclusion

So with this information, I can predict that the series will focus really on Wanda, and her powers, it will be in the suburbs with a 50′s asthethics, it will be more The Scarlet Witch and The Vision than Tom King’s Vision, but  changing the melodrama and  conecting the B-Movies threats of the first  to a more sophisticated but soft psychological thriller  of the latter, but still with a romance in the mix. and that Wanda will be back in the movies after the series. This are the things that I see the MCU doing it, not what I wanted them to do it.

[amazingmsme]

The Spider’s Out of the Bag

So this fic’s been done for months but it was back when this shitty ass hellsite made the new rule about mobile posts being a certain length, and this was back when I posted on mobile. I originally planned on posting it in three parts because of this, but after the first part didn’t receive the feedback I was hoping for, I forgot about it. Well, here it is in its entirety. 

Peter hadn't been getting much sleep and it was starting to show. He was always run down, which resulted in him being less than his normal cheery self. He was probably only averaging three to four hours of sleep a night.

"Dude, when's the last time you had a full night's rest?" Ned asked, slowly spinning on the computer chair. Peter looked up at him, shrugging, "I've been running on Five Hour Energy all day, no stopping now." Ned simply stared at his friend, not really knowing what to say. "What?"

"Peter, that's not good. That stuff isn't just supposed to be chugged like it's water, you need sleep." Peter made a face, hanging upside down from his bunk bed and crossing his arms.

"I can't! I have so much school work and Avengers training, and that's not even counting when I'm working in the city. And when I get in bed I usually still have all that adrenaline in my system, so it's hard to fall asleep."

"Are you tired right now? I can try and help you fall asleep 'cause you look like you're about to drop dead." Peter scoffed, "Is it that bad?"

"You know you're my best friend and I would never say anything to personally offend you, but you look like pure shit. Like, it literally looks like someone took an ice cream scooper and dug the circles out from under your eyes." Peter couldn't help but to smirk at his friend's description. "Anything else?"

"Your hair's constantly messy because you keep running your hands through it like a depressed middle aged suburban mom."

"That's oddly specific. How many depressed middle aged suburban mothers do you know?"

"More than you would think," he said, staring off in the distance as though he was having war flashbacks. He blinked hard, coming back to reality. "But seriously, is there anything I could do to help out, maybe help you relax, I could make you some tea..."

"Ned, I'm fine, you don't have to do anything. Buuuut-" he began to grin, something coming to his mind. "But what?" Ned prompted, hoping for an answer. "Buuuuut a massage would be nice," he said, tilting his head & batting his eyes. Peter climbed down from the bunk and laid down, letting his friend knead into the muscle. Peter practically melted underneath the touch.

"Oh man, I almost forgot how good it feels to just relax." he said, sighing contently. "How hard is Mr. Stark pushing you?" Ned asked, concern clear in his voice.

"He's not really pushing me that hard. It's more myself forcing me to do my best," he admitted. "Once I get going, I just, don't know how to stop." Ned was about to reply when suddenly Peter jerked away from his hand as if it was a hot rod. "I'm sorry, did I hurt you?"

Peter shook his head, "No, no I'm fine." Ned nodded and continued rubbing his back, but couldn't help but notice how he flinched away yet again. It all began to click and Ned couldn't hold back his grin, "I think I know of a way to make you tired." Before he could question him, he began squeezing up and down his sides, throwing him into hysterics.

"Nehehehed, whahahat are you dohohoing?" Peter managed to say through his laughter, his friend not stopping his work.

"I'm trying to tire you out. If you don't have any energy, you can't stay awake. This is for your own good Peter," he spoke, trying to remain serious but ultimately failed upon hearing his bright infectious laughter. He worked his fingers underneath his arms, lightly scratching at the hollows, making Peter erupt into screams and pleads.

"I'll tell you what Peter, let's make a deal. I'll stop if you finally get some rest. Deal?"

"Deheheal! Deal!" Ned stopped and helped him into a sitting position. Ned looked at him, "Do you think you can get some sleep?" Peter chuckled, "After that I might. My neck's still a bit sore though." Ned was about to offer to help but Peter cut him off, "No. If you think I'd let you help after pulling something like that you're sadly mistaken."

He grinned at him, "Alright, that's understandable. But I hope you know I plan on using this against you." He let out a groan, flopping face first into his pillows, his voice muffled, "You suck."

He gave a sly grin and shrugged even though he couldn't see him. "I'm just doing what's best for my friend."

Peter couldn't help but to smile into his blankets. Maybe this wasn't so bad.

~~~~

Peter had been having frequent study sessions with MJ ever since she had become captain and they started talking more. He refused to call it a study "date" since he was sure Michelle didn't like him(or anyone for that matter) like that.

"How much salt is in the average adult human body?" MJ asked, hiding the answer from Peter whilst waiting for his response.

"Easy, 250 grams," he said without even looking up. She nodded her approval, "Correct. Next question: In Blake's poem, the phrase, "unbuckled was the shield," is an example of-"

"Inverted syntax. C'mon MJ I thought you said you had tough questions for me," he smirked, looking up to meet her gaze. Before she could respond with what he was sure would be a smart remark, an alarm went off on his phone.

"What's that for?" she asked, craning her neck to look at the screen.

"Oh, uh, that's just my alarm," he said, silencing it. "This is usually the time I do my workout." She scoffed, looking him up and down, "You workout?" He nodded, "Mhm." He stood there awkwardly, not sure of what to do with himself. "Uh, would you mind if I do some stuff while we study? I won't get distracted I swear," he promised, knowing she wanted him to focus on the material. "I guess," she shrugged and he made his way to his bunk, hanging upside down and beginning to do sit ups.

"Exercise disgusts me," she said, turning her head away to look back at the flash cards. After answering a few questions and doing 100 sit ups, he climbed back down, sitting on his knees. Michelle looked up at him, noticing how he hadn't even broken a sweat. He looked around awkwardly, "Uh, would you mind sitting on my back?"

"What?"

"Like for extra weight an' stuff."

She tilted her head back, looking at him. "Are you calling me fat?" His eyes flew wide open, and he stuttered over his words, worried that he had offended her and trying to correct his mistake, "No! Absolutely not, I'd never say that about any girl and-"

"It's okay, I was just fucking with you," she waved her hand dismissively, smiling at him. He chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. "So... will you?"

"Oh, you were actually serious? Um, okay." Peter laid on his stomach and waited for MJ to climb on his back. Once she did, he asked, "Can you grab a few textbooks and hold them in your lap?" She nodded, reaching over and getting the biggest ones she could find. "You sure you can answer questions while doing push-ups?"

"Yeah, why?"

"I can barely do push-ups even without having to do math," MJ said, playing with the index cards in her hand. Peter smirked to himself, pushing himself up. His arms shook in an exaggerated manner as he faked a lack of strength. "If it's that hard for you Peter I can get off," she supplied, buying his act.

"Nah, I'm good," he said, suddenly able to do perfect push-ups. MJ, shocked at the quick change of pace, placed her hands on his shoulders to steady herself. "Can you start a timer for 10 minutes?" he asked, " And read some more questions?" She complied, setting up her phone timer and reading him questions that he easily answered. She let out a sigh, placing her head in her hands. Sitting on someone constantly moving up and down isn't exactly fun, even when studying.

"Just how many push-ups can you do?" Peter paused for a second before continuing, "Don't know. I get too distracted to keep track, so I just set up a timer."

"I bet you've already done a thousand."

"Probably."

"Are you even tired?" She'd be lying if she said she wasn't at least a little bit impressed, but no one needs to know. He shook his head, "Not really."

"What are you, steel?" she joked, poking his side. He let out a laugh that he tried to disguise as a scoff, "Noho, I'm completely human," he defended himself. His reaction didn't go unnoticed by MJ however. When he pushed himself up once more, she let herself fall forward, using Peter to brace herself. Her hands gently clasped his sides, and her fingers curled underneath his arms. He let out a small gasp, trying to cover it with a huff of air. "You okay Peter?" she asked, fully aware of what she had done. He nodded and swallowed thickly, "Yeah."

When he tried again, MJ's fingers were back on his body, this time with more intent. Peter struggled to keep himself from falling to the floor, "MJ whahahat are you dohohoing?" he cried through his laughter.

"Why didn't you tell me you were ticklish?" she asked, ignoring his question.

"Ihihit's not exactly aha normal conversation to hahave," he managed to say. She tweaked his ribs, eliciting a squeak. "But we're friends, and friends don't keep things from each other, riiiight Peter?" He shook his head back and forth, trying to escape her maddening touch. "No? What other secrets are you hiding Peter?" she teased, scribbling her nails over the back of his neck.

"AH! MJ nohohoho," he giggled, and fell to the floor, MJ easily pinning him beneath her body. She grinned down at him from her position up above, "I wonder if you can answer questions while I tickle you mercilessly," she pondered aloud, an evil glint in her eyes.

"Youhu don't have to do this!" he pleaded, already laughing from the anticipation.

"Yes I do," she said, eying him like a lion looking over its prey. "If you tell me where you're most ticklish I'll go easy on you. Maybe."

"Whahat? Nohoho," he protested, trying to squirm away. MJ tilted her head quizzically, "No? Oh well, more fun for me," she shrugged and set to work, scratching her nails along his sides dragging out a loud screech.

"How about you answer five questions correctly and I'll stop."

"Thahahat's mehehean!"

"Thank you. I can't let people think I'm actually nice."

"MJ plehehehease!" She rolled her eyes, scratching her nails across the muscles on his stomach, "Oh alright, one question. But you have to get it right." She moved down, digging her thumbs into the hip bone causing him to buck violently.

"Do you like me?" she asked, hoping he was too out of his mind to read too much into the question. Ned had been their messenger back and forth and told her to come clean or he would do it for her, and she just couldn't do that. So she took matters into her own hands, quite literally.

"Yehehes okay?"

She stopped, somewhat in shock, and looked down at him. "You- did you hear what I said?" He nodded, panting and trying to catch his breath. "You ahasked if I liked you."

"You do know I meant more than a friend, don't you?" His cheeks turned a bright shade of red and he looked down, "I had hoped that's what you meant."

Without thinking MJ leaned forward and shoved their lips together in a kiss, leaving both of them in a blissful state for the rest of the night.

~~~~

If someone had told Peter that his hero and role model would become close to him he would've called them crazy, yet here he was. Sure they weren't the closest, but they were getting closer with each mission and training session they had together, and Tony even invited him to just hang out on more than one occasion. Like now.

Peter didn't know what to expect when he received a text from Tony asking what he was doing after patrol. He honestly thought he was going on another mission, but when Tony told him he just wanted to talk and check in with him, he was pleasantly surprised. When the fancy sports car came to pick him up, he couldn't help but smile to himself. It always made him feel a little special getting to ride in such luxury, seeing as he never before had the chance to. He let his grin grow wider once he saw Tony in the backseat waiting for him.

It had taken him a while to feel comfortable enough around Tony to not be nervous all the time, but he had finally learned to relax a little. It still took him a few minutes to adjust to his presence, so he was still a little tense in the car. He relaxed a bit once they reached the compound. Peter's stomach growled loudly as they walked down the hall.

"Hungry?" Tony asked, seemingly amused.

"Uh, yeah," Peter answered a bit sheepishly.

"That's okay, we have food in the kitchen. But I won't make you anything, you're old enough to fend for yourself," Tony said with a smirk, ruffling his hair. Peter chuckled, smoothing it back down, "I think I can manage without you."

"Don't forget who gave you the suit kid," Tony said with a jab to his side. Peter yelped and jumped away, earning a side look from Tony. It didn't take long for him to realized what happened and he smirked, poking him again, "Ticklish?"

"N-no," Peter stuttered, trying to subtly take a step back. "Remember what I said about lying to me," he said in a jokingly stern voice.

"I-it's not a lie!"

"Really? 'Cause that squeak says otherwise," he teased and Peter's head snapped towards him. "I didn't squeak!" His voice came out an octave higher than he would've liked it to. Tony gave him a kind smile and patted his shoulder, "Relax, it's fine. Between you and me I once heard Thor shriek like a banshee." Peter couldn't help the way his face lit up with amusement when he heard that, "Really?"

Tony nodded, "Oh yeah. But don't tell him I told you, he'd probably kill me." Peter made the universal signal for sealing his lips. "And feel free to help yourself to whatever's in the fridge. Oh, and one more thing," he started and Peter turned his attention towards him. "Hm?"

"If you tell him I told you, don't think I don't know how to get you back," Tony said with a mischievous smile as he wiggled his fingers in his direction. Peter's face burned a bright red as Tony chuckled.

"You're never gonna let me live that down are you?"

Tony's smile was blinding, "Nope."

Peter groaned as he opened the fridge. He swore these people were going to be the death of him.