#I mean yeah that would’ve been stupid and actually get him in legal trouble

[smoke-in-the-wind]

tbh dissing drake seems like a low bar considering some of the uhh people in attendance. If Lamar had real balls he would’ve called the president a pedo to his face

[the-last-kenobi]

I... I wrote a thing... goddamnit...

Based on this post

All credit and love to @latenightsomewhere and @americankimchi for the idea!

(keep in mind this is not canon compliant. I have aged Obi-Wan down to ten, for one thing. I wanted smolbi-wan💕 and dammit, that’s what I wrote.)

___

It was supposed to be a simple mission.

Then again, that was something that could be said after all missions. “It was supposed to be simple,” Jedi would say, shaking their heads ruefully. “Simple.”

They had known they were walking into unpleasant territory.

The Outer Rim was safe for no one �� least of all Force-sensitives.

Least of all, Qui-Gon reflected, gripping the hilt of his lightsaber so tightly that he could feel the ridges carving lines into his palms, least of all young Jedi Padawans. Who had training. Who had skills. Who carried kyber in their sabers.

Like Obi-Wan.

Qui-Gon hadn’t quite realized what had happened— not at first — not with his head ringing with the force of the blunt instrument someone had slammed against his head during the scuffle. He had dragged himself to his knees, first, heaving for breath, then slowly rose to his feet, breathing deeply to chase away the nausea.

And then he had discovered he was alone.

Completely alone.

The slavers were gone, and so was his ten-year-old apprentice—

They took him, he thought, stunned. They took him right from under me, where he should have been safest. I didn’t leave him alone on the ship for a reason, but they took him—

As he reeled, flashes of memory started to filter back through the confusion.

Obi-Wan had been behind him, shielded — and then they were unexpectedly surrounded, outnumbered by what was clearly more than a roving pack of criminals — Obi-Wan had ignited his saber and fought back — Qui-Gon had dropped with a blow to the head, and he heard — shouting —

— a startled cry, a thin and high-pitched voice — a muffled scream, a child’s scared voice —

“Master!”

And a powerful fury rose up inside Qui-Gon, both focused and wild, and he did not feel inclined to subdue it.

•

“It’s not natural, is it,” complained one of the group, a young nautolan with grey skin. “Look at him.”

“Shut up,” one of the others said, shooting a slightly wary look in the direction the first was gesturing.

“He’s a kid,” a third said dismissively. This was easily the most eye-catching of the group, an enormous burly Besalisk that was even taller than Master Krell. “And he’s drugged. He can’t do anything. Forget him.”

“He’s a fucking menace is what he is,” the first muttered.

Obi-Wan grinned at them, a slightly manic expression. This was not helped by the blood streaked through his ginger-blonde hair, or the gag they had tied tightly around his mouth.

He said something to them, muffled by the cloth.

“What?” the Besalisk suddenly turned from dismissive to angry.

“Leave him, he’s just being—” one of the others began, but the enormous reptilian humanoid shook his head violently, stalking towards their captive.

“I asked what you said,” he repeated.

Obi-Wan actually rolled his eyes, gesturing towards the gag with his bound hands. The nautolan looked gobsmacked at his nerve.

The Besalisk rumbled low in his throat and jerked the cloth roughly out of the boy’s mouth, catching painfully on his lower lip as he did.

Obi-Wan winced and blinked rapidly, shaking his head as if to clear it.

“What did you say?” his antagonist repeated.

“I said,” Obi-Wan answered, staring plaintively up at the much taller creature, “you’re going to be very sorry when my Master catches up with you.”

The Besalisk laughed, but it was not a happy sound. One by one the others all joined in, although some more hesitantly than others.

“Your Master didn’t put up much of a fight,” the kidnapper goaded him. “And even if he could, he’d have to put in a lot of work to find you. I don’t think he’ll bother, do you?” He leered. “He’s a Jedi. He’s got a job on his hands, and you come second.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes flickered.

Then he smiled. “I was wondering something earlier, but you just answered my question for me.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” Obi-Wan said, mocking the elder’s drawling accent. “You made it obvious that yes, you are exactly as stupid as you look.”

Several of the slavers gaped.

“Or even stupider,” Obi-Wan added.

There was a bellow of rage, and an enormous fist collided with the boy’s face, leaving grooves up his cheek and forehead that were none too shallow. The gag was forced back into his mouth.

Obi-Wan went back to smiling manically at anyone who looked his way.

•

It took Qui-Gon three and a half standard days to find who had taken his apprentice and where they had gone.

Every minute of those three and half days were spent utterly focused; healthy amounts of sleep were sacrificed in exchange for tracking down information and planning his rescue.

And every minute was also spent with quiet thoughts murmuring in the back of his mind, where not even Jedi calm could quiet them.

They could have moved him again.

They could have had a buyer waiting for the next Force-sensitive they managed to catch.

They’re hurting him. They’re hurting him right now and you’re nowhere near enough to help.

And, perhaps the most quiet, most desperate truth in his heart — If I lose this one, there will be no coming back for me.

•

Obi-Wan bit the hand in front of his face.

The slaver yelped, somehow not expecting the attack despite what Obi-Wan considered fair warning in the form of a venomous glare before the gag had been removed.

“Little brat!” the slaver hissed, shaking his damaged hand that the apprentice was a little pleased to see was bleeding.

“Get him up,” one of the others snapped. “We’re taking him to the deep market tonight, and he needs his attitude fixed first.”

“Not likely,” the ten-year-old said cheerfully. “I was an incorrigible child and my mentor is not exactly—”

He was struck again.

“That’s getting kind of repetitive,” complained Obi-Wan, kicking his bound feet a bit where they hung a foot off the floor, trying to get the blood flowing. “And the same side every time, too. I’m going to get permanent damage and then how much will I be worth?”

“He’s gotta point,” said the newcomer unhelpfully.

The one who had been bitten scowled mightily, then sneered down at his captive, a mean little gleam in his eyes that the boy did not like the look of.

A moment later, a hand closed tight around the boy’s throat, right above the thin collar that had been set there, rigged to blow if he managed to flee.

Obi-Wan choked and began to struggle.

The hand squeezed tighter. “The punishment should fit the crime,” the male mused aloud. “And it’s your back talk that’s going to get you in trouble with your new master, and lower your value on the auction block. Seems fair to get rid of your voice, then.”

The other slaver watched appraisingly. “Just don’t kill ‘im, Frid.”

“Course not,” said the man who was evidently Frid, watching with vindictive pleasure as Obi-Wan writhed weakly, his face turning white and then blue.

Obi-Wan was dropped.

He gasped, his breath rattling in his constricted throat, and kept his head down this time.

This is why Master always says I need to redirect that urge to talk back, he reflected, feeling a little queasy. He’s not going to be happy about my injuries at this rate.

•

Qui-Gon was no stranger to bypassing the local authorities on the planets he visited. He was notorious for it, in fact.

This time, he had chosen to work with the authorities — and then ditched them at the last minute.

Now everything was as legal and tidy as he cared to make it, and the government would be able to arrest and shut down the entire operation, over the course of mere weeks if they were focused about it.

...After Qui-Gon had gone in after his apprentice.

He was quiet and careful about his approach, stealing his way into the underground warehouse that was the gateway to the infamous black market of the planet, a place where spice and banned items were passed from hand to hand — and sentient beings, too.

He could sense his Padawan, albeit barely.

Drugged, most likely.

Sustained exposure to Force suppressants could kill him.

Shaking off the intrusive thoughts, Jinn followed his instincts down several flights of stairs and down a hallway, listening intently.

Bang.

A door flew open to his left, and he melted into the shadows as two figures emerged, one a hulking Besalisk with a permanent scowl and the other a gangly human male with very scruffy hair.

“—not my responsibility,” the human was complaining. “I didn’t sign up for dealing with him. I didn’t even catch him.”

“I did,” the Besalisk grunted. “Little whelp. Squirmed around like a worm on a hook and wouldn’t stop fucking screaming. He would’ve alerted the whole neighborhood just moving him from where we picked him up to the truck.”

“Why didn’t you just gag him?” the human laughed.

“Didn’t have anything to do it with,” the other shrugged. “Tried using my hand and the brat damn near snapped his own neck trying to scream anyways.”

They chuckled a bit.

Qui-Gon held his breath, both wanting and not at all wanting them to be discussing who he thought they were—

“What do the bosses expect us to do, work miracles?” the human went back to complaining. “I hear he’s a spitfire. And they want him ready for sale, in what, three hours?”

The Besalisk grinned. “Three hours is plenty of time. Frid told me that smacking the kid around doesn’t do much good, but he half-strangled him earlier and that shut him up. Jedi whelp.”

And there it was.

It was all the evidence Qui-Gon needed.

The two slavers turned around in alarm when they heard the distinctive hiss-snap of a lightsaber igniting.

All they caught a glimpse of was a towering figure seemingly appearing out of thin air, his expression serene but his eyes blazing, an emerald blade glowing in his hands, and then they were down for the count.

•

Obi-Wan decided that lying facedown on the floor was the better part of valor for the moment.

He was sore and bruised and scratched, and his throat was swollen while his neck chafed against the collar, and he could no longer tell if the nausea was caused by the drugs in his system or from being mistreated.

They had forgone the cloth gag in favor of sealing his lips shut with tape, which Obi-Wan considered a compliment to his ability to annoy them, but it also hindered his ability to breathe.

The slaver standing over him was dusting his hands off rather gleefully.

Obi-Wan squeezed his eyes shut and wished very very hard, knowing that even without being able to touch it, the Force was with him—

And like a miracle, the door swung open, and there was his wish.

The slaver didn’t stand a chance. He only had time to let out an undignified squawk of surprise before he was flying into the ceiling, smacking into a rafter with undue force and then dropping neatly onto a nearby cot that rattled under his weight.

Obi-Wan sighed and let his eyes drift closed.

The man in the doorway was at his side in an instant.

A warm hand touched his shoulder, then slid upwards to touch his neck, looking for signs of life, examining his damaged throat.

Then, very carefully, the tape was peeled away from his mouth.

Obi-Wan smiled into the cold flooring and forced himself to open his eyes again.

“Hullo, Master,” he murmured.

•

Qui-Gon had thought, for one heart-stopping moment, when he had reached Obi-Wan just in time to watch him close his eyes and go limp—

But he was awake, now, those enormous bright blue eyes twinkling up at him out of a battered face.

“Hullo, Master,” said a very small, hoarse voice.

“Hello, Padawan,” Qui-Gon said softly, running his hand up and down the boy’s back, unnerved by how chilled he was to the touch. “How does a warm shower and some proper sleep sound?”

Obi-Wan pretended to think about it, and Qui-Gon had to fight down a laugh at his antics, even now. “Do I have to see healers first?”

“Yes,” answered the Master. “But I believe I can manage to have them release you quickly. We’re leaving for Coruscant tonight; we can sleep on the ship.”

“Oh, all right,” said Obi-Wan, but he didn’t move.

“Can you stand?” Qui-Gon asked.

“Possibly.”

There was another pause, then: “...not really.”

Without another word, Qui-Gon stood, scooping the boy into his arms as he did, cradling his head against one shoulder. Obi-Wan murmured something that he didn’t quite catch.

They moved out of the room and into the hallway, then began to make their way back out of the warehouse. Qui-Gon was stepping over bodies as he went... most of them merely unconscious.

He spotted the scruffy-haired man who had been laughing about the screaming Jedi whelp, and didn’t begrudge himself for trodding accidentally on the man’s outstretched fingers as he passed.

“I... am sorry, Padawan,” Qui-Gon said heavily. “I should have protected you better.”

The ginger head shifted; the boy murmured something vague into his tunics again and then said softly, “It wasn’t your fault, Master. Besides...” he winced as they crossed beneath a bright light that threw the injuries on his face into glaring relief that made Qui-Gon’s stomach clench with self-recrimination. “...I knew you would come for me.”

And those seven little words did a great deal to ease the rage and guilt still swirling inside the tired Jedi Master.

“Always, Padawan,” he said quietly. “Always.”

Obi-Wan was asleep in his arms by the time they emerged into the twilight, surrounded by the movement of law enforcement as they swarmed upon the compound, and therefore he didn’t know it when Qui-Gon, near-shaking as the adrenaline of the past several, stressful days began to fade, murmured: “Thank the Force for you, little one.” And pressed a soft kiss to the sleeping head.

[blackmissfrizzle]

Sanctuary

Summary: The reader gives Spooky an ultimatum when he abandons Cesar.

Pairing: Spooky x black!reader

Warnings: Mention of smut & language.

Bacon was sizzling in the pan, the potatoes and eggs were being kept warm in the oven, and you were flipping tortillas while dancing to your Spotify playlist.

“Good morning,” Spooky greeted you, his voice full of sleep.

Still mad that he didn’t care that Cesar had nowhere to go you ignored him and the one thing Spooky hates is being ignored.

He caged you in between him and the stove. “You still giving me the silent treatment, ma?”

You wanted to bump him out of the way, but you didn’t feel like hearing him yell, so you actually spoke to your boyfriend. “Can you please move? I need to get the eggs and potatoes out of the oven.”

Stepping back, Spooky moved and took a seat at the table. Bending down you got the food out the oven and you could feel him admiring your ass.

Silently, you made his and yours plates, slightly slamming his plate down. Oscar always led the prayer and the only time he heard you spoke was the amen.

Halfway into breakfast, you broke and told Spooky what’s been on your mind. “I’m gonna let Cesar stay with me.”

Oscar put down the taco that was halfway to his mouth and just stare you. To others it was supposed to be intimidating, but to you it didn’t mean shit. “Run that by me one more time.”

“I’m gonna let Cesar stay with me,” you repeated yourself, resuming to eat your food.

“No, you’re not. He’s not allowed on Santos’ streets and no girlfriend of a Santo would do that.”

“Well, one of those could easily change.” The threat of y’all breaking up is what caused Spooky’s usual calm demeanor to change. He backed out his seat, causing the chair to scrape across the floor, grabbed your seat to face him and leaned over you.

“You threatening to break up with me?”

Pulling his face closer to you, you kissed him aggressively. First, he was shocked because Spooky was the aggressive one, but once he was over the shock, he got used to it until he wanted to dominate you. Remembering that you needed some air and you had to tell Spooky something, you broke the kiss. “That’s exactly what I mean,” you whispered against his lips.

Oscar pushed off the chair and started pacing. “What do you want me to do? The cuchillos made that call, not me.”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe put your family over the Santos,” you say sarcastically.

“The Santos are my family!” Oscar yelled back.

Unfazed by his outburst, you began cleaning up. Spooky eyed you warily, knowing you could go off at him at any moment for him yelling at you, but you never did. You continued cleaning the kitchen, then headed to the room to change.

When you came back out, you had your overnight bag in your hand. “You can throw away the rest of my things. I don’t need em.”

Spooky tried to snatch the bag out your hand but you were faster. “Y/N, quit your shit and put the bag down. Now!” He ordered you.

“No! I tried to reason with you last night and you blew me off. I tried again this morning and you still won’t budge. I’m not gonna let an innocent kid, a kid I consider a like a little brother live on the streets. So, if you and the rest of the Santos have an issue with it, y’all can kiss my black ass!” You walked towards the front door, but Spooky blocked your exit.

“You think you can do whatever you want because you’re the so-called Princess of Freeridge? You don’t even know how hard it is to live in Freeridge!”

Princess of Freeridge was a nickname that you believed you didn’t deserve. Your dad was the one, who was born and raised in Freeridge, and he was respected by all. He wasn’t affiliated with either the Santos or the Prophets, but both gangs knew not to mess with him, he was dangerous on his own. Eventually, he got out of the hood, got a football scholarship, and made into the NFL.

Once, your dad was big time, your grandma refused to leave her house in Freeridge and being a big momma’s boy, your dad made you and your brothers visit Freeridge frequently. You must’ve been just like your dad, because you took to Freeridge instantly. It was like you were meant to thrive in that neighborhood. Even your dad noticed, and he always said he felt more comfortable with you in Freeridge by yourself than your three older brothers. Also, it didn’t hurt that your uncle, who your dad could barely stand was a Prophet.

With street cred from your dad and uncle, you were practically untouchable in Freeridge. Whenever you were in Freeridge, you somehow always ended up hanging out with Spooky, which eventually turned into a romance.

As you got older, you tried to help the community. You organized various block parties against gun violence, built a community center named after your dad, and helped ex-convicts find legal and sustainable income. But eventually, you would go back to your home in the hills and live your ‘rich girl life’ as Spooky would describe it.

A knock on the door alerted you. When you reached for the doorknob, Oscar slapped your hand away and pushed you behind him, being his overprotective self.

One look out the door and Spooky rolled his eyes. “Oh, you called this pendejo?”

The man he was referring to was your bodyguard, Ray. Even though you could hold your own and no one would be stupid enough to try something with you (except them young’ins as your dad claimed), your dad insisted that you have a bodyguard especially since you came from a famous family.

Ray ignored Spooky and turned his attention to you. “Y/N, you ready? Everything at your grandmother’s is ready.”

Ray and Spooky never liked each other. Spooky swore up and down that Ray had a crush on you and would put the moves on you if he had the chance. Ray, a veteran and an ex-convict himself said Spooky was too small-minded. If he was gonna be a criminal, it better be to make his life better and he believed that it wasn’t and that Spooky was gonna drag you down, not elevate you.

“Yeah, I’m ready Ray. Can you take my bag to the car? I just need to speak to Oscar real quick.” Hesitantly, Ray stepped off the porch to the car.

Grabbing each of Spooky’s hands, you pulled him into a hug. “I love you and I will always love you. Just when you come to your senses, let me know, Oscar.” You kissed him goodbye and hoped with all your heart that he would change his mind.

—

Weeks had passed since you saw Spooky, but you never really had the time. You had to take care of Cesar, listen to his own relationship problems, make sure your play cousin Jamal didn’t get in anymore trouble, and work.

A girlfriend of another Santo bumped into you at the grocery store and told you about the party the Santos were having. She insisted you go because all the hoes would be on Spooky since he was single.

Jealousy reared its ugly head and that’s how you ended up at the party. And homegirl was right, girls were all over Spooky. You were about to go in on him when you saw a very underage person by all the liquor.

“Ay, Ruby what are you doing here?” You questioned one of Cesar’s best friends.

The endearing but annoying teen looked up to you with low eyes. “Your ex-boyfriend dragged me here. And by the way, may I mention that your post-breakup glow is phenomenal.”

Leaning down, you gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you. Just for that I won’t give you any shit about drinking, as long as you can hold your liquor.” Even if he didn’t compliment you, you wouldn’t have snitched on him. It wasn’t too long ago when you were the one drinking underage.

Taking a drink of your own, you roamed around the party, mingled with some folks until one of the girls in Spooky’s lap decided to say something. “What are you doing here? Didn’t Spooky drop your ugly ass?”

Choosing to ignore her for the sake of the party, you turned around and walked away, but homegirl didn’t get the message and pulled you by the shoulder. “Didn’t you hear me, you Prophet bitch?” Her words barely registered in your head, because all you could do is stare at the hand, she decided to touch you with.

Everyone else got quiet to watch the showdown, but Spooky rushed to intervene. He knew once you got that glossy look in your eye it wasn’t long before you started swinging and there was no way Bianca could hold herself against you. Even Spooky was scared to try you.

“Bianca, yo, chill!” Spooky tried to warn the girl, but she was too dumb for her own good.

“No, fuck that! This little rich girl thinks just because her dad grew up in Freeridge, she can do whatever she wants, but she ain’t one of us! She’s more of a Prophet because of her bitch-ass uncle and cousin. She doesn’t deserve a Santo like you, Spooky.” Then the dumb bitch decided she could kiss Spooky in front of you. When she finished, she let Spooky go and smirked at you like she just won him. If she had any social awareness, she would’ve noticed he was disgusted by the kiss.

One look at you and Spooky knew he couldn’t stop you. He slyly stepped out of the way and let you do your thing.

You weren’t one for talking, so you let your fist fly and connect with Bianca’s jaw. She was out cold with one punch. People thought you were soft because you grew up privilege, but you always proved them wrong. They seemed to forget that you had three older brothers, all in professional sports, and one was a mma fighter. Hell, you basically grew up fighting.

Bianca’s friends tried to jump you, but none had hands like you. “Don’t you even fucking dare, Spooky,” you warned him against trying to get the girls off you.

Eventually, they gave up because of the embarrassment of getting beat up by one girl. Leaning over a semi-conscious Bianca, you told her and the other girls surrounding, “Leave Spooky alone and keep my name out your mouth or I won’t go easy on you next time.”

You gave her one good kick and turned to grab Spooky, tonguing him down in front of everyone, marking your territory. The hoots and hollers from everyone alerted you that you weren’t alone, so you stopped kissing him.

Spooky had that lustful look in his eyes and you knew your drought was about to end. He threw you over his shoulder and led you to his house while everyone else cheered you on.

Once inside the house, Spooky set you on your feet and tried to kiss, but you moved out of the way. Hurt that you rejected him, Spooky threw a photo of you and him across the room. “What the fuck are you doing here, Y/N? You gonna claim me in public and reject me in private? What do you want?!”

The pain in his voice caused you to cry. Never in your life have you ever heard Spooky this emotional and to know you were the cause was breaking your heart. “You,” you whispered in between hiccups.

“You got me, baby. Come back home.” He opened up his arms, inviting you back.

Shaking your head, you countered, “I can’t. Not unless your taking Cesar back.”

Spooky ran his hands from the back of his head to the front of his face. This woman was going to drive him crazy. “Come here.” He ordered, taking a seat on the couch. You followed his instructions and instead of sitting next to him, you sat in his lap. Snuggling into him you smelled the beer, weed, and mesquite wood making an intoxicating scent that described him.

Gripping your chin hardly and staring deep into your eyes, Spooky began to speak. “You gotta keep this to yourself. I mean you can’t tell anybody. Not even your pops, understand?”

Sitting up straighter at the seriousness Oscar’s voice you nodded your head yes. “What’s going on, Oscar?” You asked, only using his government name when you were serious.

He began telling you of his and Cesar’s plan of getting him back in the good graces of the Santos. They planned on setting up the Prophets and he even ensured that it didn’t involve your uncle getting caught up.

When he finished explaining, you stood up from his lap and began pacing. Your silence was making Spooky nervous, he grabbed your hand to stop you. “Baby, you good?”

Slapping his hand away, you stood over him and began yelling. “Hell no! You mean to tell me I’ve been moping around about your ass for weeks and almost fucked another guy, for you to tell me you’ve been playing me?”

“Who you almost fuck?” Spooky disregarded the rest and wanted to know who was dumb enough to mess with Spooky’s girl.

“Nah, don’t worry about that. Did you fuck any of those bitches, Oscar Diaz?” You were hovering over him, pointing your index and middle finger on his temple, not caring that he didn’t tolerate that type of disrespect.

Spooky smiled up at you. He was happy that you were just as possessive over him as he was over you. “No, quierda.” He pulled you into his lap, nuzzling his face into your neck. “I love your crazy ass too much to do that.”

“I love you too,” you muttered against his lips before kissing him. Spooky’s hands went from your hips to under shirt to your bra strap. To help him out you shrugged your shirt off and once it was off it was like he sobered up. Spooky pushed you off his lap and he stood up looking for your shirt.

“What the hell, Spooky?”

“This plan ain’t happening until a couple of weeks and for no one to suspect anything we need to keep up appearances.” Spooky explained, trying his best not to continue what you started.

“Which means you’re still not talking to Cesar and we’re still not together,” you finished for him. “How are we gonna explain tonight?”

Spooky waved you off and smacked his lips. “Man, Julio and his girl breakup and fuck all the time. It ain’t far-fetch for us to be doing the same.”

Smirking you reached out for Spooky’s belt to undo. “We haven’t fucked yet.”

To stop you, Spooky grabbed your wrists and turned your back against his chest. “And we’re not until all this is over, because if I get one taste of you, I’m not stopping.”

He was right, both of you could be insatiable. Reluctantly, you put your shirt on and began making your way to the door. You wanted to stay the night, but the temptation was too great.

“I’m sorry, I lied to you for so long. I didn’t want to involve you with all this.”

Caressing his cheek, you replied. “No, I should’ve known better. Under all that roughness, you’re a good man, Oscar Diaz.” You reached up to kiss him on the spot where your hand was.

Turning the doorknob, you were about to open the door when Spooky stopped you. “Aye, who’s the fool that’s dumb enough to try to fuck you?”

“No one important,” you rolled your eyes at him.

“Just let him I’ll shoot him if I need to.”

“Stop it!” Hitting him in the stomach to reprimand him. “I’ll call you when I get home.”

As soon as you opened the door there was a bunch of cheers for Spooky. All of his friends hyped for him ‘getting some.’ To put on a show, he smacked your ass when you turned to walk to your car.  You glared back at Spooky to let him know he would pay for that, but it didn’t faze him. Instead he smiled and mouthed ‘I love you.’ And at that you couldn’t be too mad, because despite all the ups and downs Spooky always had the best intentions and was the man for you.

Tags: @soufcakmistress​ @chonisberonica​ @marvels-gurl​ @veryfastspeedz @bananasandhoney​ @badbitchtingzs 

[imnotoverlyobsessive]

Looks Like Someone Picked a Whole Bushel of Oopsie Daisies: Chapter Three

Okaaaay I am so fucking sorry it's been awhile, you guys. But you're not here for my life story and personal bullshit, I'm sure (though please do feel free to ask). So here's chapter three. Enjoy... I hope?

Thank you, as always, to @edward-or-ford for being an excellent beta!

Chapter Three: Sex on the Brain Feel you under my skin; middle of the night, wonder if you feel it, too.- All Time Low, Trouble Is

There was a warm body atop Mabel’s, and lips pressed against hers. There were hands grasping her breasts, then one of them traveled down between her legs.

“Mabel,” gasped a voice as the lips traveled down her neck. A pleasant voice. Deep, but not alarmingly so. It was soothing, familiar. Comforting and arousing all at the same time.

One hand pinched her nipple while the other stroked her, and she gasped out quietly.

When she opened her eyes, Dipper leaned down to kiss her again, and-

Mabel woke with a start, disorientated. Her eyes flitted around the dark room, and she remembered she was at Candy’s. Recognizing Grenda’s sleeping form on the floor and Candy’s even breaths beside her, Mabel sighed quietly.

Well. That was certainly disappointing. Those types of dreams were the worst because she hated waking up from them.

She hadn’t always had so many sex dreams. It was a recent development. And frankly, she wasn’t a fan. Yeah, Dipper was sexy, but like. She knew that already. She didn’t need her subconscious waving a big ol’ flag with “REMEMBER HOW SEXY YOUR BRO IS?” emblazoned on it. She could do without that, thanks ever so much.

It was half an hour before she managed to fall back asleep. She definitely didn’t fill her friends in on the details the next day, even though she probably would’ve if the dream had been about literally anybody except her twin brother.

She was quite sure that when Grenda and Candy thought of “sexy” vibes in relation to Mabel, Dipper was the last person on the face of the earth who might be considered for such things.

————

The following morning, Mabel tried her absolute hardest to seem as normal as she possibly could. Y’know, talk without changes in her voice or tone or speech pattern. Gesticulate some but not too much. Talk about non-Dipper things. Definitely not because Mabel was having a great deal of difficulty thinking about anything but Dipper and what his lips and hands and teeth (oh god his teeth) would feel like on various parts of her body. That had zero to do with it.

Of course, normal for Mabel was… odd for other people, to say the least. And that suited her just fine. Really, it did. She rather liked it that way, actually. Normal people were kinda lame.

Still, there were, of course, some aspects of Mabel’s life that she sometimes wished were a bit more normal, she pondered as she brushed her hair in the bathroom mirror. Not entirely, just a bit. She wished she didn’t have to live separately from her sibling. She wished she’d found her soulmate the same way as everyone else rather than having it be a big mystery.

But most all, she wished she’d never developed these stupid feelings for Dipper. They really were stupid. Who gets feelings for their twin, anyway? Like, where did that even come from?

When Mabel thinks of the word “incest”, she pictures royal families trying to keep the bloodlines pure and stereotypical hillbillies and rednecks. What she did not picture was a modern day middle class Californian teenager.

Not that it had gotten to incest levels, of course. Obviously not. In order for anything to happen, Dipper would have to return her feelings, which he decidedly did not. Why would he?

You’re the weirdo, she reminded herself as she set her hairbrush down.

Well. It is what it is, she supposed. No reason to dwell on it.

And on that note, Mabel skipped out of the bathroom, doing a rather excellent job of pretending she was definitely not dwelling on her romantic-but-very-much-unrequited love for her brother.

Not even a little.

————

They didn’t ride in the same car. Of course they didn’t. They never did. She knew, intellectually speaking, that her and Dipper couldn’t be in the same car for the half hour drive from Candy’s to the mountains. Even five minute drives, though, her parents refused.

“What if you get stuck in traffic?” They’d demand whenever she asked if just once, Dipper could take her in his car. It didn’t seem to make a difference that the odds of a traffic jam in a town as small as Gravity Falls were minuscule at best. Eventually, she stopped asking, stopped trying to reason with them.

She wished she could text him during the drive. She couldn’t stop staring at his last message. She didn’t mean to, it was just that she sometimes got into these moods where whenever she stopped looking at his texts, she’d immediately get the irresistible urge to look at them again, even if she knew full well that all she’d see was the fifteen minute old see you in a bit.

Mabel felt bad about the whole thing sometimes. It wasn’t that she’d meant to fall in love. She truly hadn’t. But… Dipper was just so goddamn sweet. He was considerate and kind and he always asked about her day. And when she told him, he actually listened! None of the guys at her school ever did that. They just stared at her boobs while she talked.

It was suuuuuuuper guilt-inducing, though. Like, somewhere near her (it had to be near her or she’d have been going through withdrawal symptoms all her life) was her soulmate. Emotionally healthy people developed crushes on their soulmates even before they turned seventeen and felt the pull.

Evidently, Mabel wasn’t an emotionally healthy person. She’d developed a crush on her twin brother. And then it had developed into this suffocating, desperate, agonizing, all-encompassing consuming love and adoration that she just couldn’t seem to shake.

It was hard not to see him, she mused as she stared at her phone (still black because he hadn’t texted her, obviously; get a grip, Mabel). But then, it was just as hard to actually see him. The urge to touch him was even worse lately.

Sighing and leaning back in her seat, Mabel stared out the window.

She completely missed her father’s solemn gaze flickering to her briefly in the rear view mirror.

————

Mabel liked visiting Gravity Falls in the winter. She probably wouldn’t get to see snow otherwise. It was beautiful.

It had snowed in the mountains the night before, and there was frost on the ground and snow on the tops of the trees, the sun bouncing off them and making them shine. The cold air bit her face when she opened the car door, but Dipper’s smile in her direction as he stepped out of his own beat-up sedan made her forget about everything else.

Buzz buzz buzz, said the bees.

Mabel resisted the urge to dance when she saw him.

Or slap her stomach a few times. Maybe the sting of it would numb the stupid fucking bees and their stupid fucking buzzing, for god’s sake, would you shut up already-

She did neither, however (good job, Mabel girl!), instead opting for a definitely-not-nervous-in-the-slightest-so-just-shut-your-mouth smile.

“Why hello, Sir Dippingsauce!” She ambled over to him, telling herself she was doing an excellent job of not being awkward.

How long did she have to keep that up for again? A week? That was… that was fine. She could do a week. She could totally do a week, no problemo (Note: Mabel could not do a week. She could possibly do 2.5 days, and even that was most certainly pushing it, but to suggest as much is incredibly rude, as Mabel was doing her very best to make her mind into a 100% Doubt-Free Zone™).

He put an arm across his stomach, the other rigid at his side, and bowed deeply at the waist with a decidedly snooty expression on his too-attractive-to-be-legal face. “Lady Mabelton,” he greeted. “I trust your carriage ride was pleasant?”

“Indeed, milord. You may rise,” she lifted her hand in a dainty gesture, her nose (which was red from the cold) in the air. He did, grinning. “So, what d’you have planned for me n’ the ‘rents today?”

He shrugged a shoulder. “Just a fun little nature walk, I guess. Nothing crazy.”

Mabel shot him double finger guns. “Coolio, bro-lio.”

Their parents were just climbing out of the car. They always took forever. Why did people over the age of twenty-eight always take forever to emerge from a vehicle?

Mabel fiddled with the empty space her right forefinger left in gloves she wore. Gloves were always too big for her as far as finger-length went.

“Soooooo…” she drawled as her parents rounded their car. “Lesgo!”

Running off in a totally random direction, she skidded to a halt at the edge of a clearing. “Yeeeah… might wanna let me lead the way, Mabes. I know my way around pretty well, since I... y’know... live here,” Dipper said with another one of those heart-stopping grins.

Ugh.

Suddenly feeling tremendously uncomfortable again, Mabel laughed awkwardly. “Indeed you do, bro-bro. Indeed you do.” Chill chill chill it’s fine, it’s fine, totally fine up in here.

Dipper walked around Mabel and started down a winding gravel path, definitely neglecting to give her anything that could remotely be classified as “enough space to not have a heart attack”. She followed behind him after several seconds, trying very hard not to stare at his butt.

Again. Dammit.

Mrs. Pines even scolded him a bit. “Careful not touch your sister, Dipper!”

Her voice carried through the trees, and Dipper called out a quick, “kay,” over his shoulder before continuing on. It had been perhaps five minutes. Ten, maybe? Who knew? Time lost meaning when she stared at Dipper too long, and he was walking directly ahead of her. Besides, she had to pay attention to where he was going! She couldn’t really be blamed for staring at him, right?

The path widened significantly after awhile, allowing Dipper to fall back a bit, frosted gravel crunching beneath his sneakers.

“Is it okay if we walk ahead of you, Dipper?” Mr. Pines asked. “Your mother and I would like to look at the scenery a bit more clearly than we can behind you and your sister.”

Dipper nodded. “Yeah, it’s pretty straightforward from here.”

Mr. and Mrs. Pines smiled at him and stepped around him, Mr. Pines patting Dipper’s shoulder affectionately as he walked past.

Dipper fell into step beside Mabel, walking in silence. Mabel inspected her shoes. Some of the frost had gotten on the rhinestones she’d glued to them.

Glancing up in front of her after several minutes, she noticed that their parents had gotten further and further away, far out of earshot.

For the first time in as long as Mabel could remember, they didn’t seem to be paying too much attention to her and Dipper’s interactions.

Blushing furiously at the very idea of being alone with her twin, she looked down at her shoes again. Thank god for the cold. Nobody would question her red face in the cold.

“So,” Dipper said haltingly. Mabel’s head whipped up to face him, her eyes wide. She hadn’t really been expecting him to actually speak, but then she couldn’t very well have not expected it, either. It had just… never occurred to her that he might.

“So?” Mabel said back. Don’t be awkward don’t be awkward don’t be awkward-

“Well, there’s this… thing.”

“Very specific,” Mabel nodded indulgently. “Say no more, brother dear. I know of what you speak.”

His eyes widened and his mouth dropped open. “Y-you do?” He stuttered.

Mabel snorted. “Uh, no. Doi. Why would I know?”

He blinked at her. “Oh. Right. Yeah. Guess you… probably wouldn’t, huh?” He looked away and muttered something under his breath that she couldn’t quite catch.

“What was that?” She asked, pushing her hair back behind the ear closest to him, some of the strands catching on her glove.

“Oh, uh. Nothing, don’t worry about it.”

“Mm...kay?” When he didn’t say anything, just kept staring at her, she spoke up again. “What were you gonna tell me?”

“Oh! Right. Yeah. That. Right.”

“Right. That,” Mabel agreed with a nod, as if she had the slightest idea what he was talking about (note: she did not, in fact, have the slightest idea what he was talking about).

“So, there’s this thing,” Dipper said again.

“Right,” Mabel repeated.

“This thing… that I’ve been kinda meaning to tell you for… well,” he laughed hoarsely. She’d never heard him laugh like that before. “For a few years, actually.”

Her eyebrows rose. “Errhm. Okay. What is it?”

“Okay, so it’s like this,” he started, then stopped and looked up at the sky. “Why me?” He muttered, so quiet she almost didn’t hear him again.

“Okay, Dip, what’s going on? Is everything okay?”

He sighed and stopped walking. So did she. His eyes were closed, which was probably a good thing because they really were terribly distracting and whatever he had to tell her seemed pretty important. He turned his face to her again, opening them, something… different in them. Something she’d never seen before. Something she didn’t recognize.

Something urgent and terrifying and nerve-wracking in a way she didn’t entirely understand, and then-

“Kids!” Her dad called out, both parents jogging over to them. Well, okay, it was more like running. Why would they be running? They hadn’t been that far behind, yeesh.

“Shit,” Dipper muttered again, and Mabel turned to him in surprise. He’d tried to talk to her before, too. Before she’d left for Candy’s. Why? What was going on? Was he sick? If he was sick, why couldn’t he tell their parents? Oh god, what if he’d gotten an STD? What if he’d gotten somebody pregnant? No, wait, pregnancy didn’t last “a few years”, which he had said very clearly, so not that. Oh, fuckity fucking fuck, what if he’d found his soulmate?

“What’re you guys talkin’ about?” Their mom asked with a smile that was a bit too tight and didn’t reach her eyes.

Dipper shrugged. “School and whatnot. Just catching up.”

Mabel didn’t understand why he was lying, but, well. Mabel Pines ain’t no snitch, so she nodded and said, “yeppers yeppers Johnny Deppers! The usual, y’know.”

Mr. Pines inclined his head. Mrs. Pines was clasping his hand.

Her knuckles were white.

Their parents didn’t let their children out of their sight for the remainder of the hike.

Mabel could barely speak. She couldn’t even think much of anything.

What if he’d found his soulmate?

The bees never shut up, either.

[guessimjoiningthespidermanfandom]

Hell and Back Pt.1

Peter Parker x bisexual!reader

Peter Parker x fem!reader

Peter Parker x black!reader

Peter Parker x villain!reader 

Warnings: Language, drug use, mentions of death/the dead, parental neglect, mentions of selling hard drugs, brief mention of drugging, self deprecating thoughts, near death.

Word Count: 4.5k

Songs: Trouble Dont Last Always- Rev Timothy Wright, Violent- carolesdaughter, Feel Better- Penelope Scott, Kids- Current Joys, Never (feat. O_super)- Mag.Lo, Weary- Solange, Sleepwalk (Remastered 2010) Santo & Johnny, Dark Red- Steve Lacy, Glitter- 070 Shake. 

“‘I wish I could be a religious person. They always seem so happy and carefree. To be able to put that much trust into something or someone. I know you were never religious but your family was. My family isn’t really all that religious but they did always feel like prayer could solve all. I’d been praying my whole life and not one had ever been answered. All my family is a bunch of hypocrites and sinners, but hey hate the sin not the sinner right? Ha yeah right.”

A/N: The part two of this chapter should be out soon and there was only two proof reads sorry for any mistakes. 

Series Masterlist     Previous Part    Next Part

October 13th 

‘Dear Rose, This is stupid, this shit is for white people. Wait let me try again.’

I ripped the paper in half. I was trying to do that thing where you write letters to dead people to help you get over their deaths or whatever. I never had a diary and I felt stupid doing this in the first place so it was definitely hard. 

I was sitting in one of the queen-sized beds of the hotel room with an empty college-ruled notebook. I heard Bri and MJ go down to get breakfast, but I pretended to be asleep, I wasn’t hungry.

I’d already ripped three pages out but, I was going to do this, I started it and I wasn’t gonna back out now. 

‘So I don’t really know why I’m doing this but I miss you, like a lot. I cried last night. For like the first in at least 6 months. I don’t know why I felt that was important, but it was relieving. I’m in the fanciest hotel I’ve ever stayed (legally) at right now. You’d like it. It's just a Marriott but it’s pretty big. I don’t know if I believe in heaven (or a God even), but I truly hope you’re there right now. I know I’m probably not going if it is real. If it is I know you and my mom and everyone else is there and I just don’t want earth to be the last time I saw y’all. I just feel ungrateful because I’m not happy. I’m not happy to be where I am right now. I know I’m better off than almost everyone else in Melrose but I didn’t earn my spot. I lied and cheated my way to where I am. 

I remember that one argument we had. The biggest one back when you first started selling. I had the audacity to get mad at you for just trying to provide for your family. Then became everything I despised. I was trying to look back on the “good days”. Which was depressing because looking back at what we thought were goods days were just days that weren’t terrible. 

At least when you were selling you never lost yourself. I don’t even know who I am anymore. I just feel burnt out. 

Yesterday me and Bri were fooling around in the hotel which was fun so I guess that’s good. I’m tryna stick to the positives of my day. Another good thing was that I found one of Jay’s hoodies in my bag . It’s pretty comfortable. I miss him too. I’m trying not to think about all the people I’ve lost because that list could go on for eternity. I might do this again, I don’t know it doesn’t feel so stupid anymore. I’m burning this note though. I know you always said no one lives forever but why’d you have to go so soon, the good ones always do. If there’s truly life after death tell my mom I love her for me and I love you too.

Sincerely Y/N,’

October 14th 9:03am

‘I wish I could be a religious person. They always seem so happy and carefree. To be able to put that much trust into something or someone. I know you were never religious but your family was. My family isn’t really all that religious but they did always feel like prayer could solve all. I’d been praying my whole life and not one had ever been answered. All my family is a bunch of hypocrites and sinners, but hey hate the sin not the sinner right? Ha yeah right.

I remember Ms. Williams with that stupid  “Shoot for the moon and if you miss at least you’ll be among the stars” poster. It was tacky and we were always making fun of it. I never realized how much it bothered me until now though. I’d say I have selective memory if I have any memories at all,  but that poster is seared into my mind. I think it might be because I felt like it was mocking me because she knew goddamn well none of us were making it out this city. Let alone ever getting anywhere near the stars. Now, I was the closest to the stars and out of everyone who could've been here it was me. The person who deserves it the least.

Sincerely Y/N,’

October 14th 8:57pm

‘I think the reason I’m still doing this letter thing is because I don’t wanna stop missing you because missing you was better than feeling nothing. I don’t truly think I do anymore. Which sounds bad, but I just mean I’ve gone through the grieving process which I guess means, it’s time to let you go. I’ve never actually gone through a full grieving process without someone else dying in the middle of it. I read this thing once about people having favorite people or a favorite person and I think that was you for me. It means you basically can’t function without that person and when they're not around it makes your emotions go crazy. I don’t really want to say goodbye cause I miss the feeling of you in my life, but when it comes down to it I don’t remember it much. So I guess this is the final goodbye. 

Love Y/N, ’

  I was getting really fucking tired of Thorn. I was getting tired of Y/N L/N too. Why couldn’t I just exist. I don’t wanna have to be anyone. I just wanna get high and eat fruit snacks damn. but I could never have what I want could I.

I was sitting under some storage containers in a warehouse with all these old white men working on weapons and shit. Waiting for Vulture to come in. He flew into the warehouse I could almost see the anger, radiating off of him before he stepped out of the wings. He looked oddly familiar, if I hadn’t killed off all my brain cells I probably would have made the connection sooner but it got made and that’s all that matters. 

The Vulture was Liz’s dad. 

This is a fact I could and would be using to my advantage. I pulled out my backup phone and snapped a couple pictures of the people around me as a torn up van pulled up. 

A man hopped out and Liz’s dad immediately started yelling at the man about something. He seemed to think it was funny though. Like he was high on adrenaline or something. I caught the words Avengers. Then something about Shocker and getting fired. I’m guessing the Shocker had the same idea as me to tell his family about his business. He picked up the closest weapon and fired it at the man. He instantly crumbled to the floor in ashes. That was nasty as hell. 

Now these weapons are wayyyy more dangerous than I thought. He stormed out after bestowing another man the title of Shocker. Then it was only me and the guy working on some weird weapon left. I walked over to him and knocked him out. Taking the anti gravity gun with me and some shiny thing I thought looked cool I placed a tracker with a camera and mic on the Vulture suit before leaving. 

That was about two weeks ago. Now, here I was, on the back of the truck of some random company following Vulture around like a lost dog. I should be back at the hotel right now, but I’ve never been known to do what I was supposed to. 

He was talking to someone about a plan to steal more fuel for these weapons. 

I was hiding behind a dumpster and I accidentally hit something on my way to leave. 

I know he saw me. 

Fuck.

I didn’t have time to think I was just running and running. I didn’t even realize I was practically hyperventilating until I made it back to the hotel. I didn’t have the key to my room. I must’ve dropped it somewhere. 

I dropped it because I’m a dumb fuckup who’s gonna get herself and everyone else killed because I could never do anything right. I’d be better off dead. 

I knew Bri and MJ were asleep and I didn’t wanna wake them up. I was sitting by the door trying to keep myself from going into a full blown anxiety attack. I pulled the hood of Jay’s hoodie over my head and pulled my legs up to my chest. 

I think I might’ve drifted off for a second because I opened my eyes and Peter was standing over me looking concerned.

“What?” I asked sitting up. 

“It’s just,” He brought his hand up to his forehead in confusion “Why are you on the floor? Are you okay?” He asked.

“I’m fine, what are you doing up?” 

“I was just walking around,” 

That wasn’t a very clear answer. Suspicious. 

“Are you sure you’re okay? Your eyes are puffy,” 

“I’m fine, probably just allergies,” He hummed like he didn’t believe my answer. 

“You can go back to your room now,” I added since he was still standing there staring at me. 

“You still never answered my question on why you were sitting out here on the floor,” 

I just ignored him and pulled the hood back over my face. 

He slid down on the floor next to me. 

“I’m not leaving until you answer me,” 

I didn’t feel like talking and honestly? I didn’t want him to leave. 

I turned to face him before saying 

“Looks like you’re gonna be here for a while then,” 

I ended up telling him eventually and he offered to let me stay in his room saying Ned wouldn’t mind. I was too tired to decline the offer. 

“Y/N,” I was awakened by Peter shaking my shoulder. 

“Hmm?” I hummed. 

“You gotta get up,” 

I rolled my eyes and pulled the throw blanket back over my head. I would have flipped over but I probably would’ve fell off the couch.  

“Everyone else is already at breakfast c’mon,” 

He pulled the blanket off of me reeling back when he brushed against my skin. 

“Y/N, you’re burning up,” 

“Mhm hm,” I hummed again turning onto my side. 

“I’m being serious Y/N get up,” 

“Ugh, fine” I exclaimed sitting up. 

“Do you feel sick?” He asked, touching my forehead again.

“I feel fine,” I said pushing his hand away. “Thank you for letting me stay here but, you seriously need to learn to stop being so repetitive,” 

I went downstairs where everyone else was eating breakfast and let MJ and Bri know I was okay. 

Now it’s really fucking stupid to smoke pre-rolls if you don’t want to be drugged but last night when I was watching out for Vulture someone offered them to me. Perks of pretty privilege I guess. MJ was all of my impulse control and she wasn’t with me so I smoked it. 

And when I tell you this shit was strong I mean it was strong. I have a high tolerance when it comes to weed because I smoke a lot but this hit hard. Surprised I wasn’t shaking. Maybe I was. 

Normally you don’t get full body highs from smoking. It’s usually edibles that do that but this wow. Couldn’t tell if this was Indica or Sativa. I thought it was Indica at first but I had too much energy for that. Maybe it was a hybrid if so, that’d explain the fog over my brain. 

I wasn’t thinking clearly I knew I shouldn’t get any closer to Peter than I already was, but I was bored. 

Now we were on top of some middle school jumping the roofs. I'm pretty sure he was only here because he wanted to keep tabs on me since he found me on the verge of a panic attack last night and currently thinks I’m sick. 

“Are you sure this is safe?” He asked.

“Yes it’s safe, don’t be a pussy,” I rolled my eyes “Besides I do it all the time,”

“So you go to D.C and jump to different roofs of a middle school all the time?”

“You know what I meant smartass,” I elbowed him lightly and he laughed. 

I laid on my back and shortly after he joined me. 

“How do they get shirts so soft,” 

“What?”

“I said how do they get shirts so soft,” I sat up. 

“I don’t know probably lots of thr-” 

“C’mon let’s go down there,” I interrupted pointing at the building before hopping down. Running through the mall looking through almost every store I’d spent about $1,000 just shopping for everyone who came to mind. Eventually I walked into Zumiez with Peter trailing behind me. I was looking at the hoodies by the skateboard rack. 

“I always wanted a skateboard as a kid,” He said coming up behind me. 

“Pick one,” I nodded my head towards the rack of decks. “I’ll get it for you,” 

“ I can’t let you do that,” He said. 

“No, I insist,” I laughed at my word choice “That’s a fancy word” I laughed and he laughed too “No but for real, pick a deck and I’ll buy it for you,” He shook his head “I’m not leaving until you do,” I turned his words from the earlier night onto him.

“Fine,” he sighed walking back over to the shelf. 

After picking the rest of the accessories for the board he said. 

“I still have no idea how to ride it,” 

And with me still not thinking I said

“Ok then I’ll teach you,”

We headed back out the mall but not before I got a diamond chain because why the hell not. We were about to get on a train to head back until I interjected. 

“Wait,” I grabbed his arm. “Come with me,” 

“Are you sure this is safe?” He asked as we sat under the bridge that the train runs over. 

I laughed at his nervousness. 

“I do this all the time and I'm still here, aren’t I? Don’t be a pussy,” 

Waiting for the next train coming over I put on a song that's been stuck in my head for a while. Weary by Solange. I didn’t realize I was singing along until he complimented my voice.

“You should sing more often, you have a really nice voice.” 

“Shh” I hushed feeling my heats heating up at the compliment. Soon I felt the train coming “Just live,” 

I leaned back on my elbows and closed my eyes. I guess this was some form of therapy. The rumbling of the tracks traveled through my body. It would’ve been loud but I’ve picked up the ability to block out noises I don’t want to hear on command. After the train passed the sun was already setting. I figure I might as well get food. This would classify as the first real meal I’ve eaten in awhile. I’ve heard of people not being able to eat unless high which I never thought would or could happen to me. Right next to the restaurant we ate at. There was a 7/11. I’m not sure how many people know this but almost every night shift employee at 7/11 is a plug.

“Can you hold my bags real quick?” I asked.

He nodded so I let him know I’d be back quickly and I had to go to the bathroom 

I did not.

The employee I ran into proved my earlier statement.

He had about 10 mg of adderall and some xans. I wasn’t really planning on taking the xans, maybe I’d just sell them. I went back and forth adderall because it’d enhance my brain function instead of actually producing a high. I got two slushies and some other bottled soft 

drinks. 

 I put the key up to the door then slowly opened it. They were on the couch and looked up at me when they heard the door open. If I knew they weren’t gonna be mad at me for just leaving and not telling anyone, I’d actually be happy because Bri was getting along with my friends. 

“So where’d you go?” MJ asked.

“I just went out mom,”  I replied, sitting on the dresser by the door. 

“Well you clearly went shopping,” Bri said. 

“Yeah and?” I rolled my eyes. “Don’t worry I had a babysitter,” I rolled my eyes again. “You know you can come in right?” I referred to Peter who was still standing by the door.

He moved in, still not moving any farther than the bathroom door. I moved to close the door behind him before sitting on the bed closest to me.

She moved closer to me and looked into my face. 

“Are you high right now?” She asked gazing into my eyes.

“Really?” I asked incredulously “No I’m not, and fuck you, now I’m not gonna give you your shit,” 

“No! I’m sorry,” She said and I rolled my eyes, a smile cracking onto my face “What’d you get me?” She made grabby hands at the bags. 

I handed her the one from Hot Topic. 

“There’s a whole buncha stuff in there but…” I reached into the bag and took out the socks with weed plants on them. “These,” I held them up to her. “These are mine,” 

“Alright weirdo,” she said looking through the bag. I went to go over to MJ but Bri grabbed my arm. 

“Hey where are you getting the money for this?” She asked in a hushed voice.

“Don’t worry about it,” I waved her off. 

I got MJ at least 7 books from a series she was reading and Peter said he had to go back to his room. 

I was watching a movie on Bri’s phone while MJ started reading her book. 

We heard a knock on the door.

I gave Bri a look that said I’ll get it. Then pushed off the bed. It was Liz.

“Hi,” 

“Hey,” 

“Me and some other kids are going to go down to the pool, so we were wondering if you wanna come?” 

“Yeah just gimme a second I’ll be down,” 

I ended up convincing Bri to come with me because I didn’t want it to be awkward. 

It was nice. The pool I mean. There was a slight breeze and pretty much the whole team was there. Minus MJ, Ned, and Peter. 

I didn’t really think about getting my hair wet. People were playing games toward the end of the pool. Bri was halfway in and halfway out on her phone. 

I was floating on my back. It was as if I was drifting down a long river with my eyes closed. The breeze over my body pushing me along. There was a heavy weight on my back that had been building since birth, but the water took a hold of that weight for me. 

I just lied there on my back floating and breathing. 

Things were peaceful at the pool. They however were not back at the room. 

I could not sleep. Believe me I tried. I looked through my bag with “everything” I brought. It wasn’t much since I hadn’t been home in a long time. However I did pack that cart I had in class a while back.

I was scrolling through Tiktok and remembered it was still next to me. I made a tiktok to that one audio with the whistles where you ghost the vapors on each whistle  because I thought it looked cool and I can do whatever I want on my account.

 I don’t know how long it’d be but I finally felt my eyes fall shut for the night.

When I woke up it was weird because I was already at the decathlon. I’d already been working on whatever problem it was that’d we’d gotten, but I didn’t need to because MJ had already gotten us the answer and we’d won. 

I should’ve been more excited. 

 Why wasn’t I excited? 

You couldn’t tell I wasn’t as happy as I made myself seem. I had become quite the little actress over the years and by actress I meant liar, I’m really good at lying. 

I didn’t realize Peter was missing until we’d gotten on the bus to go to the Washington Monument. 

“Hey,” MJ waved her hand in my face “You okay? You’re doing that thing where you scratch your inner arm, and you only do that when somethings on your mind.” 

She placed her hand on mine to stop me 

“So what’s up?” 

“Nothing much like you said just thinking,” 

“About?” 

“Everything,” I didn’t want to tell her what I was really thinking about because things would get real awkward real quick. 

MJ just wouldn't drop it though.

“There’s clearly something bothering you so just tell me what it is you can tell me anything,”

“I just told you,” I sighed. 

“Tell me what you’re really thinking about,” 

“Death,” I looked at her, who looked back at me, “There, you happy with your answer now?” 

“No,” She said and I looked at her knowing it was a look of exasperation. “Who’s death?” She asked.

“Mine,” 

“What about your death?” 

“Just wondering if it’d be painful,” 

“Oh,” 

“Yeah,” 

When we pulled up Bri was standing by MJ, she didn’t want to go into the tower because of it being built by slaves. I understood that I didn’t really want to go either but my feet were moving on their own accord. 

I could’ve fallen asleep right then and there on that elevator. It was if my brain was checking in and out all day. 

I might've. I don’t know. The rip off police officer was saying something but it all sounded like gibberish to me. 

I closed my eyes and leaned on Liz’s shoulder. She patted my head and went back to whatever she was doing. Then there was an audible snap.

Followed by a jerk of the elevator.

My shot open and I looked up at the ceiling and there was a circle of singed metal.

“We’re all gonna die here,” The kid who I believe's name is Abe claimed. 

And for my sake I pretended I didn’t hear him. 

Everyone staring up at the ceiling, another student said.

“We’re freaking screwed,” 

To think I was just thinking about death less than an hour ago and here I was about to taste the sweet kiss of it. 

“I know that was scary, but our safety systems are working,” The police officer said. 

Yeah fucking right that’s what they all say. They just didn’t want us to panic but that’s exactly what I was doing. Panicking. 

“We are very safe in here,” she added. That's what they say seconds before everyone dies. 

The trap door above the elevator opened and everyone began to move again. I could feel the elevator shaking again. No way was I gonna move and risk snapping the cords. 

I was gonna die here. 

Most of the team had gotten out already. Then it was Flash’s turn and he just had to put the fucking trophy up with the rest of everyone. The elevator fell farther as he got out. I wanted to move but I couldn’t. My brain power wasn’t stronger than my muscles. I couldn’t will them to do what I needed them to. 

Something hit the ground above us and the elevator was free falling. 

It stopped second after we were launched to the ground then low and behold Spider-man 

I swear it was like he was stalking me. I’d be kinda freaked out if I didn’t know he was Peter.

When he spoke it was in a very poor accent. 

He was telling Ned not to move because he was shaking the elevator. 

He pulled the metal death box up to the doors and Mr. Harrington, Ned, then Liz got out. 

Spider-man or “Peter” said something but I couldn’t make out what exactly I was still trying to process everything. 

Then the elevator was falling, I reached out towards Spiderman but wasn’t close enough to reach him. 

A web caught my arm but I was still hanging.

Until I wasn’t. My feet were planted on the ground but my brain was moving too fast for me to keep up. 

“Y/N?” My shoulder was being shaken.

“Yeah huh?” I said trying to locate and place an identity to the voice it was Bri. 

“I was asking you if you needed a ride home,” 

Oh yeah she didn't know. 

“Uh I don’t know maybe,” 

“Alright…” She said turning back over to whoever she was talking to this time. 

Since I was the one to almost fall they wanted to check me out in one of the ambulances. 

Which I do not trust at all.

The whole medical field is a giant scam so is insurance, ask MJ she’ll tell you. 

Once we’d gotten back to the school. Everyone’s parents were all freaking out over them and asking if they were okay. Majority of everyone had already left. Peter had his Aunt. MJ had her parents. Ned has his dad. Bri had her dad. Everyone has someone.

Well almost everyone. 

Flash was still waiting too. With Mr. Harrington off in the distance. 

Then there were two 

I moved over and sat down on the curb next to him.  

“You got no one either huh?” I asked.

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” Fair enough. The hostility was understandable. I did punch him in the face less than a week ago.  

I kept talking though.

“My dad never picks me up from anything either. “ I didn’t really want him to but he could’ve at least asked while I was still living at that apartment and now he expects me to come back like it’s nothing. 

A car pulled up and some random white guy who was probably a chauffeur picked up Flash. 

Then there was one 

I wanted to go home but I had no home.

I guess I had one home in the cemetery. Everyone I love leaves me. That’s something I learned over the years. It applies to many and the sooner you learn that the easier life will be for you. I hadn’t been back here in the longest. I’d normally just show up and clean the graves of the people who I’d known closely. 

This was embarrassing but sometimes I’d talk to my mom. Today was one of those days I sent. I stayed talking to my mom and Rose so much for stopping the letters which I did for way longer than I thought I would. 

I was already in my old neighborhood and before I knew it I was at my “house”.

I really didn’t mean to come home. I just did before I could stop myself.

Taglist: 

@tomdiddlyumptious

[isa-ghost]

Bro Average & Divorce Analysis

Y’all are right, don’t demonize Stacy. It’s unfair and stupid and some of the extents people go to to demonize her are straight fuckin gross. Don’t do it. But don’t criminalize Chase either. Don’t make out either of the two to be evil. Here’s why--

In Bro Average, the divorce was shown super spontaneously (a big reason why people demonize Stacy so much).

The only two reasons for the divorce that have solid evidence to support them are that the Brodys either had serious financial problems and Chase’s channel wasn’t doing enough, or that Stacy thought Chase’s dream job was childish and dumped him because of it (his trickshot names and reactions to scoring shots are arguably “immature” for a man Chase’s age, even if there’s nothing wrong with being a child at heart. Stacy might even think being a YouTuber/vlogger in general is immature, we don’t know).

More solidly supported is the financial trouble reason--

“No, baby, no. No, I know, yeah, I’m trying, okay? I’m working, I’m trying to get all the shots. Just look, just don’t take the kids.”

“Just don’t take the kids.” really makes it sound like she’s threatening him with taking them away from him if he doesn’t start making money. This right here is probably one of the biggest reasons why people demonize her so much.

“This one’s called I’m Staying At My Sister’s This Weekend.”

Stacy is separating from him. Chase is no saint here, it could be because he’s too stubborn to get a more financially helpful job. Or, he’s simply trying to hold out hope that his dream job will take off finally. (Speaking as someone who had a father who did that, and it ended up not taking off and royally fucking things up financially for the family). What we know of Chase so far from all of his video appearances shows he’s got that Soft Heart And Big Dreams personality, it’s very likely that’s what he tried to do. It’s a common movie/show trope that the father figure just can’t bring himself to let go of work-related dreams until it’s too late. But the stubbornness isn’t out-ruled here. We don’t know which was the case. Either way, Stacy separated from him.

“Well I don’t care what your sister says. Just please, at least let me see [the kids] on the weekends still.”

Okay 1) Stacy’s sister has no say in Chase’s visitation of HIS kids. She’s not the legal guardian, even if she’s a relative, regardless of why she says he can’t see them. 2) There is no reason Chase can’t see them on weekends or at all. Whether the separation (not yet divorce) was because of Chase’s “immaturity” or because of financial failure, there is no reason Chase can’t have any visitation with his kids whatsoever other than “you’re too immature, so you’re not mature enough to be a father” which is a little bit unreasonable, not to mention a huge assumption on Stacy’s part and definitely more opinion than fact. (Another big reason people demonize Stacy).

“This one’s called Fuck You Chase, I’m Leaving You And I’m Taking The Kids With Me.”

He could have said it that way out of frustration, she could have actually said that word for word. We don’t know. But Stacy moving to her sister’s to get away from Chase and refusing to let him see the kids was a very obvious sign she’s getting ready to divorce him. This is where people shouldn’t demonize Stacy. If she took the kids with her, she obviously cares enough about them and takes being a mother seriously enough that she wants them. Not to mention, if Chase is at fault for the financial troubles because his dream job of being a vlogger won’t take off and make enough money, then why would she leave the kids with him?

“H-H- Hey sweetie! Yeah, daddy loves y-” [Chase is hung up on.]

Here I personally think it was Stacy that hung up the phone (whether she pressed the button or if she made the kid do it, because it’s not far fetched to say that if his kids love him, they wouldn’t hang up so suddenly), BUT if Chase has little kids, like we’re pretty sure he does based on the sounds we hear in Dark Silence, then maybe the kid just hung up too soon on accident or something. If Stacy DID hang up on him or make the kid do it, then this is yet another reason people demonize her. The assumption alone that she might’ve been the one to do it is another reason people demonize her. It’s more evidence that she’s completely cutting Chase off from his kids.

“This one’s called Fuck You Chase, I Want A Divorce”

Again, we don’t know if that was said by Stacy word for word or said out of frustration. If it was, Chase is reasonably upset and kind of has every right to say it that way. It’s our fault if we take that as a reason to demonize Stacy.

[Chase breaks down crying]

THIS is the moment I think his depression truly started, or kicked into the severity we see later on in the storyline if he had depression this entire time and just never showed it on-screen in what we see. He’s lost his family, and Stacy is being difficult about visitation.

It was never mentioned that he drank, he never seemed drunk, and he was never shown drinking alcohol here, before the divorce or even right after. There is NO evidence that he drank heavily before Bro Average and the divorce. If anything, him using the teabags might imply he drank a lot of tea. He started drinking whiskey AFTER the divorce, out of grief because he lost his family to is drinking to to try and numb the pain. He didn’t even really show he has depression during BA/before the divorce. He’s actually extremely bubbly and happy in BA in the scenes he isn’t talking to Stacy/being upset about the divorce, which I know doesn’t mean he’s not depressed, but he certainly doesn’t show it here as strongly as he does in any video we see him in after BA.

**Also gonna just mention here about the idea that Anti might’ve had a hand in the divorce. We have 0 evidence for that so it’s possible but equally as unlikely. I personally feel like Sean would’ve included SOME kind of way to show he did. At this point in time (April 2017) he might not have even planned on having an entire ego storyline OR have egos interacting with each other. So again, its possible but also unlikely.**

“This one’s called The Drive-By.”

And THIS is where all the huge confusion on our end comes in. Did he really pull a drive-by? All the rest of his trickshots seem like they take place in that office building. And we see all of his struggling with Stacy going on there too, like they’re arguing while he’s at work trying to make money for them. 99% of BA takes place in that building, its just this scene we don’t know about.

There’s actual gunshot noises and screams like he actually committed a drive-by. It’s also not uncommon for people both in media and real life to do something stupid, rash or even violent when they’re under too much emotional/mental stress. It’s actually proven that men especially act out in violence because of fear of being perceived as weak if they show vulnerable emotions like sadness (*vibrates in psychology major, oops*), so they vent through physical, often violent means instead. (I doubt Sean knows that, and I doubt even more that he planned such an intricate real life detail in something that wasn’t even supposed to be an ego power hour in the first place, but I digress).

This face especially right here makes me think he might have actually done it. He looks dead inside, almost like he’s glaring. If Anti had a hand in the divorce, did he make Chase do this too, if he really did do it?

“This one’s called Stacy I Love You, Please Don’t Go.”

It’s not uncommon for a mass shooter to commit suicide after they commit their shooting. Not only that, but obviously of course, suicide is extremely common in depressed people, and the divorce (with or without the depression as an added factor) is a big motivator for someone to do something like this, especially since Chase likely doesn’t have much else to live for besides his kids, which are being kept from him completely by Stacy. Basically what I’m saying here is, there’s A LOT of good reasons why Chase would try to kill himself. Also want to mention really quick that Chase did not show violent behavior that we saw before this, so him being violent towards Stacy or the kids remains ruled out of the reasons with evidence why Stacy would divorce him.

There’s a real gunshot noise when he shoots himself. It has also been CONFIRMED by Henrik in KJSE that this suicide attempt was legit, because he said he saved Chase.

We should also keep this scene after the outro in mind. Is it just as canon as the rest of BA? Is it just Sean being a goof and this is a blooper? Did Chase not successfully kill himself? That’s a big possibility. We don’t know. But we DO know he definitely shot himself for real and Henrik saved him. I’m kinda leaning towards this being a blooper of Sean being a dork, personally.

ALSO-

*Galaxy-brains for a moment here* What if Chase’s dreams of being a YouTuber/vlogger DID end the divorce and now as some twisted ass irony, he’s actually achieved his dream because he has to pose as Jack on the channel? Now THAT I could see Sean doing, especially since he said he’s been plotting for months and definitely had a vague plan during Mayhem, which is when Chase posing as Jack while Jack is comatose was revealed.

Anyways, TLDR; Don’t demonize Stacy, it’s gross and we have no justified reason to, only assumptions. But don’t demonize Chase either, because from all we’ve seen of him so far from BA and afterwards, he was only trying to make a dream career happen and his refusal to let that dream die killed his marriage. Both he and Stacy have their flaws here, so don’t demonize one or the other.

[lloydskywalkers]

in which the monastery almost burns down again

....and it is, technically, Lloyd’s fault this time. 

This is absolute unforgiving fluff, because I was in the mood and every time I try to write this family being functional it spirals out of control. But also I love Lloyd and he deserves happiness, so here’s a very quickly written birthday fic that I’m not entirely sure I finished but I have two hours left to post ahhhHHH

(Takes place just after the Final Battle, and I’m assuming that an entire year hasn’t passed so they’ve never actually ran into Lloyd’s birthday until now.)

Lloyd would’ve gotten away with it, too, if Cole hadn’t decided to insist on flu shots that year.

“Lloyd, it’ll take five minutes.”

“Yeah, five minutes for you to schedule an appointment, which I don’t need.”

Cole eyes him skeptically. “So you’re saying you don’t remember how sick you got last winter.”

Lloyd grimaces. “That was…different.”

“No, that was the flu,” Cole sighs. “Look, we’re all getting shots, but it’ll be a lot more trouble if you don’t fill out your medical applications so we can get coverage.” He bites his lip, glaring at the computer screen. Zane’s alone had taken him the better part of the morning, and Zane had been cooperative.

Lloyd remains stubborn. “Sorry, I think I hear Sensei calling me—“

“We both know he’s out right now, Lloyd.”

Lloyd grumbles something inaudible.

“Please, just sit down with me for five minutes?” Cole tries a different, probably-mean-but-he’s-at-the-end-of-his-rope-here, tactic. “I mean, now that you’re not so little, I thought you’d be up for it.”

Lloyd makes a face, his expression working. The transition from shooting up to a teenager in the span of a minute has been…something, but Lloyd’s been handling the maturity aspect rather well, if only out of sheer stubbornness (and the general weight of the world). He finally deflates, pulling himself atop the table so he can stare down imperiously at Cole.

“Fine. But I make no promises about shots.”

Cole meets his gaze head-on. “If you try and hide in the air vents instead of going again, I’m going let Zane have full-reign over desserts for the next month.”

“You wouldn’t,” Lloyd hisses at him, scandalized. “You know Zane doesn’t believe in dessert! He’ll just give us fruit.” Lloyd’s nose crinkles in distaste, and Cole hides a grin.

“Fruit isn’t all that bad, you know.”

“Says the cake-hog.”

“I told you, that was Jay, and it was my cake anyways.”

“Sounds like a bunch’a lies, to me—“

He finally gets Lloyd’s application pulled up, and cuts the argument he definitely would have won short.

They’re getting to these flu shot appointments no matter what it takes, because the Final Battle was enough trouble on its own, and no one in this family is going to fall prey a crippling illness and ruin the rest of the year they have left, if Cole can help it.

Despite his initial stubbornness, Lloyd is at least more cooperative than Kai was. Cole manages to get his height — geez he’s short — his weight — maybe they should be increasing his desserts, actually — and then spends a good fifteen minutes arguing over his eye color before they get stuck on the allergies section, then skip a good few sections until they’re close to the end of the application.

“Birthday,” Cole sighs, rubbing his temples.

“September twenty-second,” Lloyd says, through a mouth of popcorn — a compromise, since it is technically junk food, but also healthy enough to—

Wait. Cole frowns, then quickly checks the date on the little calendar icon.

Today is September twenty-fourth.

“Lloyd,” Cole says slowly, a creeping sort of dread making its way up his spine. “Repeat that?”

“September twenty-second,” Lloyd echoes, a bit slower this time.

Cole stares at him. “Like September twenty-second…as in two days ago?”

“Yeah,” Lloyd nods, throwing a kernel of popcorn in the air and trying to catch it in his mouth. He pouts as it misses, landing on the floor instead. Cole doesn’t even lecture him — he’s too busy having a mini-crisis.

“Your birthday was two days ago.”

“Yeah?” Lloyd’s beginning to look annoyed. “That’s what I said. I can write it down for you, if you want.”

“No, that’s—“ Cole blinks rapidly, running a hand over his face. “Wha— why didn’t you say something?”

“Why would I?” Lloyd frowns.

Cole…does not entirely understand what’s going on here.

“Why— because it’s your birthday!” he finally exclaims. Darn it, he’s never missed a birthday before — he even managed to pin down Zane’s, who had claimed he didn’t have a birthday. Now his record is broken, and worse, it’s broken on his baby brother. “We would’ve — we would’ve celebrated, why didn’t you say something?”

Lloyd’s shoulders hunch, and he looks a little on the defensive side now. “I mean, it’s not that big a deal,” he says. “I’m just a little older. S’nothing to get worked up over.”

“Not that big a deal — it’s your birthday!”

“I know that, Cole.”

“I mean, didn’t you ever do anything back—“

He pauses. Oh.

Oh no. Cole is starting to understand what’s going on here, and he doesn’t like it.

Lloyd gives him a strained, painful-looking smile, that’s honestly a terrible excuse of a smile in the first place.

“Darkley’s isn’t really big on birthdays,” he says, with a brittle kind of laughter Cole isn’t used to hearing from his youngest brother. “They didn’t really, uh, care. At all. Kinda just made you a target for the day, ‘cause you were older now, so you could take more hits, you know?”

Cole nods on blank instinct, like that’s totally normal and makes perfect sense. On second thought, why hadn’t they punted any of those kids off the roof of Darkley’s when they’d had the chance? Scratch that, why hadn’t they hunted the teachers down and punted them off?

“So yeah, not a big deal,” Lloyd shrugs. He laughs, that false kind of one again. “I mean, it’s not like I even know how old I am anyways, right? Tomorrow’s Tea, and stuff.” He slides off the table, giving Cole a grin. “Guess that means I can’t fill out the rest of the application, oops! Bummer.”

Lloyd makes a break for the hallway, slipping briefly in his socks before he grabs the doorframe, glaring at Cole. “And you better not put Zane on dessert.”

Then he’s escaped down the hall, leaving Cole to stare after him with his slowly-combusting mess of emotions.

Oooh boy, Kai’s gonna love this.

*********

Kai, as expected, takes it the worst.

“We missed Lloyd’s birthday?” he croaks, looking like he’s moments from tearing up.

“It was two days ago,” Cole says, shaking his head. “Two days. We did clean-up that day! We spent his entire birthday hauling debris around the city.”

“Oh, no,” Nya moans into her hands, where she’s yet to look up from since Cole broke the news.

“I can’t believe I missed this,” Zane says, looking appalled with himself. “I am normally better with dates…”

“Why didn’t he say anything?’ Jay exclaims. “Poor kid, he’s gotta hate us—“

“No, see, he wasn’t even upset,” Cole throws his hands in the air. “Guys, I don’t think he even knows how to celebrate his birthday. He got all tight-lipped about it when I asked, then said that Darkley’s ‘wasn’t big on birthdays’ and something about getting hit, and are we sure we didn’t save the names of his old teachers somewhere?"

Ah, maybe he shouldn’t have said that last part. Kai might actually be crying now.

“Those heartless punks,” Nya’s hissing, her head raised so her eyes can spear everyone with what’s practically lasers burning in them. “Those malicious jerks. What kind of stupid school—“

“I mean, Kai was a human piñata once, so we know it’s legal,” Jay says, his eyes sparking. “That’d be pretty festive.”

“Wha— no, Jay, no one’s getting used as a human piñata.”

“Tell that to Nya,” Jay sulks. Cole finally picks up on the conversation happening beside him, with no small amount of alarm.

“Nya, we are not giving Lloyd the teeth of his old school teachers as a birthday present.”

“I didn’t say we’d be giving them to Lloyd, just that I’d kick them out—“

“No one’s messing with anyone else’s teeth!” Cole yelps, waving his arms between them. He suddenly frowns. “Hold on, maybe I should schedule dentist appointments while I’m at it—“

“No!” comes the united chorus. To Cole’s disappointment, Zane’s voice has joined in as well.

“Lloyd’s birthday is what’s important right now, Cole,” Kai glares.

Well….point. But he’s still gonna put ‘make dentist appointments’ on a sticky note later.

“Okay, so we missed Lloyd’s birthday,” Nya says, determinedly. “That’s bad. What do we do?”

“We’re a pretty half-rate family,” Jay muses.

“Obviously, we made a mistake,” Zane says, sagely. “So we must correct it, and throw him a birthday party to show that we are not, in fact, a half-rate family.”

Cole points at Zane. “Now there’s a better plan.”

“So like, the best birthday party ever, to make up for all the ones he’s missed,” Kai nods.

“Yeah, we’re making up for what, how many years worth of missed birthdays?” Cole asks.

They all fall silent, staring at the table pensively.

“Do we count the Tomorrow’s Tea for missed years or not,” Jay whispers.

Kai kicks him in the leg. “Of course we do!” he says, hotly. “That whole thing sucked, he’d better get something out of it.”

“Also, I don’t think Lloyd would be thrilled if we threw him a ten year-old birthday party,” Nya mutters.

“Ten years?” Cole frowns. “Is that right?”

“Yeah,” Nya says, just as Kai goes “No, it’s nine.”

They both stare at each other.

“Uh oh,” Jay murmurs.

“So clearly, we will not be putting a number on this cake,” Zane rubs his head wearily.

“No, no, we can figure this out,” Cole insists. “Maybe like, his parents will know?”

The others nod, just as Nya’s head snaps up.

“Woah woah wait, hold on a second.” Her eyebrows are furrowed, the growing look on her face thunderous. “Lloyd was with us the whole day, so we know for a fact that no one remembered his birthday.”

“Yeah, and?”

Nya looks at Kai again, who blinks rapidly, before a look that promises trouble crosses his face.

“Maybe we should bring his parents in on this conversation.”

*********

To Garmadon’s credit, he looks even more horrified than Kai did.

“No,” he says, frantically. “Lloyd’s birthday isn’t — no, it’s September already?”

To also be fair, Garmadon was very recently exorcised of some very nasty, mind-affecting snake venom. He’s kind of been through a lot.

“Yeah, it is,” Nya says hotly, clearly not in the mindset of being fair. “And Lloyd’s birthday was two days ago!”

Misako’s head is buried in her hands on the table. “Two months,” she’s lamenting in despair. “I promised Lloyd I’d be better and I made it two months.”

Kai is still arguing with Sensei Wu, while Jay is either attempting to defuse the situation or convince Wu that an exploding cake is a good idea.

“—lost track of time, after the Final Battle, you must understand how chaotic it’s been—“

“Then why didn’t you write it on your calendar or something?!”

“I don’t have a calendar.”

“Well there’s your first problem—“

“Which could be solved! By cake!”

It’s not until Zane shoots him a desperate look that Cole decides to finally speak up.

“Look, guys — hey, look,” he shoulders his way to the middle of the tense huddle they’ve managed to make in the monastery’s sitting room. He takes a minute to thank that Lloyd’s on patrol right now, instead of a room over where he could very easily hear his entire family arguing over who’s fault it is that they forgot his birthday.

“Look,” Cole sighs, once he’s (miraculously) managed to get everyone quiet for a minute. “That’s not the important thing now, okay? The important — lip it, Kai — the important thing, is that we’re going to fix it. Got it?”

While Garmadon and Wu look a little affronted at being ordered around in such a way, the others nod in agreement, and that’s all Cole needs. He’s had enough of the First Spinjitzu Master’s family drama in the past few months, Wu and Garmadon can suck it up.

“Lloyd gets back from patrol in an hour,” he continues. “So if we’re gonna throw a party by this evening, we need to distract him.”

“This evening?” Wu muses. “Isn’t that a bit soon?”

He realizes his mistake a second too late. He’s immediately set upon by four viciously gleeful students chorusing: “Never put off ’til tomorrow what you can do today, Sensei—“

“Alright, alright,” Wu ducks his head.  He mutters under his breath, “I didn’t think I’d be paying for that one so soon.”

“Anyways, distraction,” Cole repeats. “We need someone to make sure he stays out of here the rest of the day, who’s game?”

Kai immediately volunteers, followed shortly by Jay. Cole eyes them shrewdly.

“Let me rephrase,” he says. “Who can keep it a secret long enough for us to surprise him?”

Kai shifts guiltily, and Jay bites his lip.

“I mean, I probably could…” he says, slowly. Cole does not have confidence in that statement. He looks to Zane.

“You’re the only one I trust,” he says, solemnly.

Zane shakes his head with a wry smile. “I’ll bring him back by dinner, will that give you enough time?”

“Totally,” Cole nods, just as Jay says, “Not even close.”

In hindsight, Jay is probably more correct, but Cole will eat dirt before he admits that.

*********

With even further hindsight, Jay is really correct.

“We need presents,” Kai is saying, as he struggles to drag in the truly ridiculous amount of streamers he and Jay purchased. “What can we get for Lloyd that’s acceptable in the next two hours?”

Garmadon purses his lips, glancing briefly at Wu. “Our father’s tradition was normally just a larger sword.”

“Like Lloyd even needs a sword now,” Jay reminds them.

“Why don’t we play it safe, and get him candy, or something?”

“What, you want to encourage his sweet tooth?”

“I don’t hear you coming up with any ideas.”

“What about a mech?”

“That didn’t end so great the last time, remember?”

“There’s always those cursed scrolls, I suppose,” Garmadon muses.

Cole glares at him. “Stop suggesting death weapons!”

“They aren’t all death weapons,” Garmadon huffs. “I’m simply saying, he might appreciate the finer weaponry in life—“

Misako, at least, suggests something nice and safe, like comics. Nya likes that idea, though she also wants to find a complete signed edition of the Starfarer movies, which leads to a heated debate with Jay because “they aren’t movies, Nya, it’s a TV show, and you can’t just buy signed editions, they’re priceless—“

Cole, who has better things to do than watch Jay shoot his romantic life in the foot for the day, wearily takes the end of a streamer from Sensei and helps him put it up. Kai is on the other side, still pushing for a pet.

“What about a cat, though,” he pleads. “Cats are quiet, and they don’t need as much attention.”

“Lloyd would give it much attention,” Cole mutters.

“Exactly,” Sensei Wu sighs. “The monastery is not a place meant for pets. And besides, after his victory against the Overlord, Lloyd will be on the road more often than not. It simply isn’t the time and place for a pet. He has a dragon, I am sure he’ll be fine.”

Kai looks mildly devastated by this answer, and Cole makes a mental note to make sure Kai doesn’t sneak any animals in any time soon. This can come after the mental note that he can’t forget about those flu shots, which comes after the other mental note that they really need to get started on a cake if they’re gonna have one in time.

“He likes that kind with the sprinkles baked in,” Nya informs him.

“Funfetti,” Cole nods. Good tastes in cakes, a family trait. Nya, who clearly does not appreciate good cakes, simply shrugs.

“Sure. With lots of frosting, of course.”

“Great, that shouldn’t be too hard,” Cole decides. “And Jay grabbed candles while he was getting streamers, so we should be set. Let’s get on making that.”

“Oh no,” Kai suddenly groans. They all look at him. “Guys, we sent Zane to distract Lloyd.”

Jay frowns. “So?”

Kai spears him with a look. “That means Zane can’t make the cake.”

An icy silence of horror drops over the room. They all look to each other.

“I’m out,” Cole says.

“I’m still relearning what I can even eat as a human,” Garmadon moans.

“I’m…adequate, at best,” Misako grimaces.

“My cooking ends with coffee,” Nya says, despairingly.

“I can make ramen?” Jay offers.

Kai stares at them. He looks incredulously at Sensei Wu, who shrugs.

“I can make tea cake.”

Kai looks like he’s resisting the urge to roll his eyes back into his head. “Okay, I’m making the cake, since all you are disasters.” He shakes his head, grumbling to himself. “—have you even survived this long, Zane and I pulling all the weight—“

Cole thinks that last statement is rather unwarranted, but Kai can actually reliably make food without burning the house down — ironically enough — so he’s not about to pick an argument with their best bet.

So he focuses on settling another argument, instead.

“How many candles are we putting on this cake, by the way?”

He’s sorely disappointed.

“The Tomorrow’s Tea can be a bit unpredictable,” Sensei Wu says, his eyes guilty. “I…cannot exactly say how many years it would add.”

Cole resists the urge to roll his own eyes into the back of his head. “Thanks for nothing,” he mutters.

“Okay, well we can at least find out how old he was, and work from there,” Nya says, resolutely. She turns on Garmadon. “How old would Lloyd be this year, if he hadn’t aged?”

“Um,” Garmadon says. His expression contorts, eyes going distant. “He was born in that one fall that the coast got hit by a hurricane, so that would make him, ah…let’s see…”

“You have got to be kidding me.”

“I was overcome by the vicious blood of the Great Devourer soon after, years blur together when you’re immortal!”

Misako rolls her eyes, turning to Nya. “I remember, at least. This year he’d be—“

Cole misses the end of her statement as another vicious round of arguing breaks out behind him between Jay and Kai, who are supposed to be watching the cake in the oven.

“I’m his older brother, I’m bringing the cake out.”

“What, like the rest of us aren’t?”

“No, but I’m like — Lloyd’s supreme older brother, so clearly—“

“Oh please, you lost him to the Serpentine in an arcade—“

“Hey, that’s sensitive! And I rescued him afterwards!”

“Yeah, after you had an existential crisis—“

“For the last time, today is not about you,” Cole hisses, wedging between them and pushing them apart. “Cut that out, or I’m gonna think the Tomorrow’s Tea aged you down.”

Jay and Kai glare at each other, but they comply. Cole sighs.

“Look, Kai, you’re the overbearing brother and that’s valid, but I need you front and center when Lloyd walks in,” he says, as he takes the cake out of the oven.

“Why?” Kai frowns, as he begins frosting the cake, seemingly heedless of how hot it still is. Cole watches him in despair for a minute before answering.

“Because you’re the person he’s least likely to blast on instinct if the surprise goes wrong.”

They both make a face, but then shrug. “Point, I guess,” Jay says, tossing the box of candles from hand to hand. “Better him than me.” He glances at Cole. “So, how many candles we sticking on?”

Cole glances back to the now-decorated sitting room, where Wu, Garmadon and Misako are still locked in argument with Nya over…who knows what now.

You know what, he thinks. It’s not worth it.

“Just…stick a bunch on,” he sighs. “They can be, like, a symbol of light, or something.”

“If you say so,” Jay snorts. He proceeds to cram as many candles as he can on the cake, following Kai’s path as he frosts it. Cole watches in trepidation.

“Hey guys, Zane says he’s running out of ideas, so we’d better hurry it — woah, that’s a lot of candles.”

Nya blinks at the cake, frowning at Jay. “You know that’s gonna be a lot of fire when they’re lit, right?”

“And is there a problem with that?” Kai sniffs.

“Nah, don’t worry about it,” Jay waves her off before she can retort. “They’re trick candles, you know? Like the sparky ones that keep relighting? It’s gonna be great, haha.”

Great does not seem to be a word Nya agrees with, if the expression on her face is any giveaway, but they are running out of time and Cole can’t deal with this right now.

“Great, just finish it up, okay?” he says, hastily. “Zane and Lloyd are gonna be back any minute, and we still don’t have a—“

The unmistakeable roar of the Ultradragon comes from just outside the monastery, followed by the loud flapping of wings. Everyone goes still enough that if they were in a sitcom, this would be hilarious, but they’re not, and Cole’s going to lose his mind.

“Light the candles,” he hisses at Kai and Jay, who have frozen in horror. “Light the candles and turn the lights off, go go go!”

*********

Lloyd does not end up blasting Kai in the face with a beam of golden power, which is mildly disappointing.

But he does jump a good three feet in the air, his eyes going the size of dinner plates as he makes a sound like a surprised cat, and Cole thinks that’s just as satisfying.

Not as satisfying as the megawatt smile he wears while turning red as Kai’s gi as they all sing off-key to him, of course, but pretty close.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t delay longer,” Zane apologizes to Cole, as they both watch Lloyd dance around the cake, trying to get the candles to extinguish while Jay and Kai laugh mercilessly at him. “He was beginning to grow suspicious, and I probably checked my phone too many times.”

“You did great,” Cole assures him. A bright flash goes off around the room as Misako snaps a picture, capturing Garmadon tightly embracing his son. Cole shakes his head, his lips quirking. “I really don’t think we could’ve pulled off anything better, anyways. Probably best that you got here before it could get—“

The cake chooses this moment to go nuclear, Jay’s candles lighting up blindingly bright as everyone shrieks, jumping back.

“—any more out of hand,” Cole finishes weakly. Zane quickly darts forward with a yelp, helping Kai — who’s extinguishing the candles with his bare hands, the maniac — eliminate the fire hazard.

Lloyd is the one laughing now, bright giggles as Jay feels at the ends of his singed hair, yelping. His laughter is cut short as Kai plants a firm hand on the back of his head shoves his face directly into the candle-cleared frosting, Nya egging him on from behind.

“Hey, we all have to eat that!” Cole yelps, darting forward. This proves to be a fatal mistake, as he steps in front of Kai just as Lloyd’s trying to get him back by chucking cake at his face.

Well, at least it’s Funfetti, Cole thinks, wiping frosting from his eyes.

Lloyd’s eyes go wide. “Cole, I’m sorry, I was aiming for Kai—“

Cole shakes his head, patting Lloyd on the back. “It’s fine, green machine,” he says. His grin turns evil, and he shoves the hand on Lloyd’s back down, forcing him back into the cake. “Happy Birthd—agh!”

Somehow, they (read: Zane) manage to salvage enough of the cake that it’s still edible, an between the streamers and music Jay starts blaring, it’s a fairly nice party, as far as ones that are whipped up in an hour go. Everyone’s crashed on the couches around the sitting room, finishing the last of their cake, and as long as Jay doesn’t manage to offend anyone, it should be a pretty peaceful evening, all in all.

“A thousand,” Jay’s guessing at Garmadon, his eyebrows drawn together in concentration.

Garmadon’s mouth twitches, and he exchanges glances with Wu. “Incorrect.”

“Oh, come on,” Nya throws her arms up. “Higher or lower?”

Garmadon turns his palms up. “What do you think?”

Jay coughs. “Loaded question.”

Nya looks determined though, and she answers. “Higher.”

Misako snorts into her tea, and Garmadon looks mildly offended. “I hope you’re drawing that conclusion by looking at Wu,” he mutters.

“They can’t be that old,” Kai argues, through a mouthful of cake. He nudges Lloyd with his foot from where he’s sprawled across the couch. “Hey Lloyd, how old’s your dad?”

Lloyd shrugs. “Not sure” he says. There’s a gleam in his eye. “I could maybe tell you, if you guess how old I am.”

“Oh, you sneak—“

“Wait, I have another guess!” Jay’s lips twitch. “Four hundred and twenty.”

That kicks off an entirely different debate, most of which is concerning whether Garmadon and Wu actually get what the joke is, so Cole decides to remove himself from the conversation by clearing plates. Just before anything gets heated.

He’s made it halfway to the kitchen by the time he’s realized Lloyd’s following him, and he jerks his head toward what’s left of the cake. “Want some more? It was your face that went in, so it should be fine for you.”

Lloyd shakes his head, and spears him with a look. “Tattle tale,” he accuses, but his eyes are warm, and the corner of the mouth is twitching with the smile he’s holding back.

Cole flicks his eyes skywards. “I know you said it’s not a big deal,” he replies, fondly. “But it is to us.”

Lloyd ducks his head, flushing with a small, shy kind of smile. Cole ruffles his hair, before continuing. “We didn’t scrounge up a present in time, but if I know Kai, you’ll probably get something stupidly big from everyone in the next few days.”

“You guys don’t have to do that,” Lloyd laughs, a bit breathlessly. “This is—“ He pauses, an odd, watery kind of expression crossing his face before he shakes his head. “This is a present enough.”

Cole smiles at that. “Better than Darkley’s?”

Lloyd laughs, for real this time, without that tense bitterness. “A million times better than Darkley’s,” he grins. “A zillion.”

“Good,” Cole nods, satisfied. “It’s not over yet, either. Nya and Jay made a whole list of terrible party games they’re gonna force you to try out.”

“Oh yeah?” Lloyd says, looking faintly nervous.

“Oh yeah,” Cole grins. “There’s this really great birthday tradition I grew up with, where you make the birthday person sit in the middle and everyone has to go around saying something nice about them.”

Lloyd goes scarlet at the mere thought of it, and Cole’s grin grows wider.

“Please don’t,” he murmurs.

Cole takes mercy on him, flicking a bit of frosting from his blond hair. “We’ll pick something else instead, then.”

He’ll just spring it on him when he’s not suspecting it later, anyways. It’ll do the kid good to hear that people care about him.

If Cole’s learned anything from this family, it’s that.

[collecting-stories]

Begin Again - Sonny Carisi

A/N: It took me forever to put this into words and I’m still not sure about the ending but I literally couldn’t think of anything else to say. 

///

But on a Wednesday in a cafe, I watched it begin again.  - Begin Again, Taylor Swift

Divorces were messy business, as your father had told you over the phone multiple times while also suggesting that you avoid said ‘messy business’ and just stay married. Stay married to a man who emotionally and mentally abused you every chance he was given since somewhere around the first two months of dating. Stay married to a man who cheated on you repeatedly. Stay married because that was the only thing you had ever done right in your whole sorry existence.  

Your therapist, when you first moved to New York and after the trouble of finding a new doctor and getting new referrals and trying a few less than reputable places first, told you that you married your mother.  

“Probably.” You’d agreed.  

For even longer than you could remember subjecting yourself to marriage you had been forced to endure the onslaught of your mother’s never ending negative opinions about everything in your life. You cut your hair too short, you smoked cigarettes, you spent weekends at friends houses to avoid her wrath, and you fell right into every word your now ex-husband said because you wanted someone to tell you they loved you.  

It was through frustration, after filing the first PFA and having it denied by the judge in the county of the small town where you lived, that you ultimately signed up for classes at the community college. And it was those classes that got you to NYC, a place you’d really only ever dreamed of, always intimated by the city.  

“It’s just...I don’t know how to describe it.” You explained, waving the hand that wasn’t holding a cup of coffee as you walked through the park.  

It was hard to believe, even for you, but the city had offered more than independence, freedom, and opportunity. In the final semester of your last year before the bar exam the city had given you another gift, in the form of one Dominick Carisi Jr. Detective, hopeful future lawyer, devout catholic, family man, and arguably the nicest person you had ever encountered. Three dates in and you were hooked.  

“It’s a little intimidatin’.” And that accent, an onslaught of 30-some years living in Staten Island had gifted your ears with the pleasure of Carisi’s accent. It was something you never thought you’d appreciate but after spending days listening to him, either answering a question in one of your classes or talking about his nieces during a date, you were sure that voice was heaven-sent. A rather embarrassing borderline kink that you had so far withheld though you suspected he knew, given the smirk every time you zoned out when he was talking.  

“You’re only saying that to make me feel better.” You replied, nudging him and smiling. Smiling was unavoidable when you were with Sonny. The first time he’d asked you out had been after a particularly grueling day and a test you had been cramming for.  

You had been towards the back, packing your bag to go home, when Sonny had stopped at your desk, lingering until you gave him your attention. He was nice looking, you had always thought so. The first week of class you’d walked in to find him in a seat toward the front, suit pants and vest on with a white button-down shirt and tie. You thought he looked a little too nice to be taking night classes but maybe he had some sort of important job during the day. You always came straight from work at the legal firm three blocks away, sporting an endless wardrobe of pencil skirts and blouses. And you thought, possibly, that it was the suits that were so alluring about him. But then he’d shown up on a test day with jeans and a hoodie and his hair not so perfectly gelled and you’d still swooned so you knew it wasn’t just the suit.  

The day he asked you on that first date he was in his suit again, complete with a jacket and you were sure you’d never been more attracted to a man’s legs before. The gray pants were really something though.  

“Did you need something?” You asked, then frowned at the harshness of you own tone. Lack of sleep and stress over your divorce were really getting to you. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.”  

“No sweat.” He smiled like it really was no big deal that you’d come off sounding annoyed by his presence. You weren’t. Surprised he was talking to you sure, but annoyed? Definitely not. “I was just wondering if you’d want to grab coffee sometime?”  

And really you should say no because there is a whole house of skeletons that this poor guy has no idea exist but he looks so sweet and whether he is or not you could use a nice guy. So you nod your head, deciding to go against your better judgement or your worst case scenario judgement. “Yeah, yeah, of course. When did you have in mind?”  

The first date was at a Starbucks and you explained your love of pumpkin spice lattes, no matter how ‘basic’ they made you. “It’s stupid I know, but I swear it’s not all hype. It really is a good drink.”

“I’m not arguing doll, my sister Bella gets ‘em all the time.” He mentioned as the line moved up. He ordered two venti pumpkin spice lattes and two pumpkin scones, encouraging your deep love of autumn flavors and, despite your protest, he paid. “Got the app.” He shrugged like the high-priced goods were no big deal as he held his phone out for the girl behind the counter to scan.  

“Well thanks.” You replied, moving down the counter with him. There were things you wanted to say. You thought about telling him how your ex-husband never would’ve paid for coffee, just rolled his eyes that you wanted to buy some when there was ‘perfectly good coffee at home’. He would’ve made fun of your right there in the Starbucks with everyone around for wanting a pumpkin spice latte. But instead you listened to Sonny telling you how he brought his nieces here sometimes after mass as a treat.

Sonny liked to talk and you liked to listen. It kept you from saying stupid things that didn’t matter about your ex-husband and your life prior to New York. You weren’t keeping things from him, just enjoying the newness of the relationship. The only good advice your mother had ever given you was telling you that the way a person acts in the beginning of the relationship is their best behavior. So whatever’s bad will only get worse. As far as your ex-boyfriend was concerned that was completely true. With Sonny you couldn’t imagine it getting worse.  

Five weeks into dating each other Sonny breached the idea of introducing you to his family. “My ma was wondering if ya wanted to come to mass with us on Sunday?” He asked. Dinners had shifted from rarely being at one another’s apartments to always being at one another’s apartments. Sonny’s Italian food was to die for and you had some pretty amazing cooking skills yourself.  

“Alright.” You thought you’d be more nervous. That meeting Mr. and Mrs. Carisi would be the most intimidating thing in the world but the more time you spent with Sonny the more you wanted to know everything about him. You were actually eager to meet his family.  

“Yeah?” Sonny asked, almost disbelieving.  

“Yeah, I’d love to meet your family.”  

You weren’t the only one who was excited about meeting his family. Sonny hadn’t brought someone home to meet his mom and dad since he was in high school. He just couldn’t seem to mesh with anyone. There were plenty of first dates but they never went further than that. Either his job was too demanding or he was too overbearing or he thought too far into the future. However, it was Sonny had spent a significant portion of his dating years being told that he was too much by the people he went out with. And he always felt like that, a nag in the back of his brain that said he was either too much or he wasn’t enough.  

But you didn’t make him feel that way. He’d worried himself over asking you out for weeks until Rollins finally told him she would find him a new partner if he didn’t ask you. So, he did, shaking and second guessing himself and thinking that the beautiful girl who sat in the back of his class was never going to want to go out with him but it was worth a shot. And you’d smiled so bright when you realized he was inviting you on a date. You accepted and somehow he was talking about mass on Sunday with his family.  

“Are we going anywhere after mass?” You asked, cleaning the dishes from dinner. The record player you had by the couch playing softly in the background. “Like should I bring something.”

“Nah, ma’s gonna do a big dinner.” Sonny replied, grabbing your hand as you walked back to the small kitchen table to grab the rest of the plates. He pulled you down on his lap and wrapped his arms around your waist.  

“I still feel like I should bring something. It’s your parents,” you explain, “I mean, it’s your parents, I wanna make a good impression.”

“They’ll love ya, trust me.” He needed no convincing words or reassurances he knew his parents would love you because he loved you and because he’d told them about you enough times that they felt like they already knew you.          

“What about that apple cake I made for Amanda’s birthday?” You suggested.

You’d met the squad by accident on a date with Sonny but now it felt like you’d always known them. The life you had in New York had changed who you were as a person. It had made you more confident, more outgoing, happier. The shell you had built around yourself to protect your sanity from your family and your ex-husband had been chipped away at by Sonny and by your own independence.  

“I’ll ask ma,” He replied, “I do like that apple cake.”

The song on the record player ended and the quiet scrape of the needle against the vinyl had you getting up to flip it to the other side. You heard the sound of Sonny’s chair move back as he no doubt started cleaning the rest of the dinner plates. It was nice.             

-

This is the thing, I don’t know how it is.          

[starker-garbage]

So I was watching hoco agian. And I started thinking about a story. A building falls on Peter then he processed to fight vulture. What if the next day tony finds out from happy, then rushes to make sure Peters okay. And he's rambling and somewhere in there he mentions he loves him. So something like. "Do you know what I would do if you died. I love you, you can't leave me."

“I’m sorry he what?” Tony said, gritting his teeth as he listened to Happy’s story through the phone.

“Do you actually want me to repeat it or-” Happy said, basically feeling the negative, angry energy through the phone.

“A what fell on who?” He asked, knowing basically exactly what had gone down. Happy wouldn’t bend the truth, or lie, or pull a prank like this on him. That’s just not something he did.

“A building collapsed,”

“And you’re trying to tell me that it had collapsed on Peter?” Tony said, truly trying to wrap his mind around it.

“Yes,” Happy said, almost scared of what Tony’s reaction would be.

“And where is he now?”

“I’m not entirely sure, probably home, or at school, or patrolling, he could be anywhere,”

Tony didn’t respond, just hung up the phone and put it in his pocket, taking a few deep breaths to avoid doing something he regretted too much. Did the kid even care? Wasn’t he worried what everyone would feel like if he died? Why was he even there in the first place? In the position to get an entire building collapsed on him? He wasn’t indestructible and he knew that so why was the damn kid being so fucking stupid?

Multiple thoughts were rushing through Tony’s head. Obviously he couldn’t not say anything to Peter, because even though Tony has told the kid multiple times to not be a complete fucking dumbass, apparently he still needed to hear it more. Maybe it was a waste of Tony’s breath, but one day the kid was going to get it through his thick skull that he was being a complete fucking idiot and realize he needs to start being careful.

Tony decided the best way to talk to him would be waiting until the kid got home, and if he was already there, then that just meant this would go by a little faster. After taking a few deep breaths, he called Happy back.

“Can you come get me?” He asked. “I need a ride to Peter’s,”

“What are you gonna do, Tony?” Happy asked, getting ready to pick Tony up nonetheless.

“I’m going to go talk to the kid. What else? He can’t keep doing this, he’s going to die, and I don’t know what I’d do if that happened. I mean, I took the kids suit away and it hasn’t stopped him in the slightest. It’s getting so frustrating,”

“I mean, he is a teenager after all. That’s kind of what they do, Tony,”

Tony cringed at the word teenager. He needed to get that through his head. Teenager. Barely legal. A kid. A child. Not someone you should think about in any other way than platonic.

“I know, Happy, but most kids drink and smoke, and do reckless dumb shit that’s dangerous, but not get buildings to fall on them, and class A criminals chasing after them,”

Happy was basically in the car now. “Yeah, yeah, but still,” He said. “I don’t think you going down there and yelling is going to stop him from doing it. His mind’s pretty set on saving the world, being a what was it? Friendly neighborhood spider man?”

“I can’t just do nothing, Happy, he’s going to get himself killed,”

Happy sighed, at a loss of what to say. “Can you send me your location?”

“Yes, hurry please,” Tony was currently leaving some conference with some company when Happy had called him. He quickly sent the location to Happy after hanging up the phone.

While he waited for him, he couldn’t help but pace. The sun was beating down on him and his thoughts were rushing a thousand miles per hour. People walking by probably thought he was a madman, and hell, maybe he was, but right now, he just couldn’t care about what other people thought, because he was so fucking worried? Angry? Concerned? Fuck, Tony couldn’t even tell you what he was feeling. It was just one big cluster fuck.

When he saw the familiar car with the familiar person driving said car, he quickly rushed over to it, opening the back door, hoping in, and slamming it shut.

“As fast as you can,” Was all he said as he pulled out his phone. He had a tracking device on Peter’s suit, but not on Peter’s anything else. Nonetheless, he pulled up the app that told him where Peter’s suit was, in hopes of knowing something, but no luck at all. The suit was where Tony had left it.

“You need to calm down,” Happy said, seeing the distress on his friend face increase.

“Calm down?” Tony laughed, throwing his head back and leaning it against the back of the seats. “Calm down?” He repeated. “How the hell am I supposed to calm down?” He was laughing hysterically at this point. Shit. Maybe he really was going mad. “Jesus Christ,” He mumbled under his breath, closing his eyes, and trying to take Happy’s advice and calm down, even though he knew his attempts were futile.

“I should’ve let him keep the suit,”

“What?” Happy said, taking a glimpse at Tony, who looked a mess, through the rear-view mirror, before diverting his eyes back to the road.

“If I had just let him keep the suit, he would’ve had better protection, maybe he could’ve escaped before the building escaped, or hell, maybe he could’ve even stopped it from collapsing all together-”

“Don’t do that to yourself,” Happy stopped. “It’s not your fault the kid decided to meddle in something larger than he could handle, he’s reckless, not dumb. He knew it was a bad idea, but he went for it anyway, nothing about it is your fault,”

Tony knew that was supposed to reassure him, but it didn’t. He didn’t respond and jsut left himself to his thoughts for the rest of the drive over to Peter’s apartment. When Happy parked, it stopped Tony’s train of thought, and he opened the door, thanking Happy.

He walked into the lobby, to the elevator and onto Pete’s floor. Once he got to the door, he knocked. Someone might answer. May was probably working, but Peter, depending on what shape he was in, was either at school or home, or patrolling. If that kid was patrolling right now Tony might actually have a heart attack.

After waiting a minute or so, he heard the door unlock, then the door opened and revealed Peter’s face. Once he saw it was Tony at the door, he opened it wider. “Oh, hello Mister Stark, why are you here?”

Tony just stared down at him, his face expressionless. He wasn’t sure what he was feeling. Was he relieved? Upset? He was relieved to some extent, sure. Peter wasn’t horribly injured, not that he could see right away. There a nasty bruise on his arm that he hadn’t covered up. Tony didn’t want to know the other injuries that could be hiding behind Peter’s clothing.

“I mean, not like I don’t want to see you or anything,” Peter began to ramble on. “But it’s kind of weird for you to just show up- actually no it’s not- you tend to just show up a lot actually, kind of creepy sometimes- I mean not that you’re creepy or anything-”

“Can I come in?” Tony asked, still trying to sort out his emotions.

“Oh, yeah, sorry of course,” Peter said, side-stepping so Tony could get through.

Once Tony was inside he looked around. “Is it just you?”

“Wha? Oh yeah, May’s at work,” He said. Tony glanced at him and it didn’t take a genius to realize the boy was antsy, he kept balling his fists, wiping them on his jeans, even the way he was standing made it obvious the boy wasn’t doing too great.

“So, what have you been up too recently?”

“Oh, you know, Mister Stark, same ol’ stuff,”

“Staying out of trouble?” Tony said, directing his attention from around the apartment back to Peter, making direct eye contact while quirking a brow.

“Uh, for, for the most part, ya, yeah,” He said, laughing nervously.

“Really?” Tony says, staring Peter down, noticing how the boy is getting even more nervous.

“Ya, Yeah, why’d you ask,”

“Oh no reason, say, where’d ya get that bruise on your arm,” Tony said, stepping forward, carefully grabbing Peter’s arm and holding it up, showcasing the painful-looking bruise on his arm, observing it further. It was a deep purple. It’s what you would expect a bruise to look like if it was caused by rubble falling on your body.

“Mister Stark, I have a feeling you know something,”

“Hm, do you now? So I guess you really aren’t dumb,”

“I gotta say I’m a little confused Mister Stark, I-”

“So if you’re not an idiot, I don’t know why you’d go chasing after criminals, and then get an entire fucking building to fall on you,”

Peter’s jaw dropped. “I mean, I didn’t get it to fall on me, someone else broke it I was just, I uh- I was in the way of it,” There was a short pause. “It was kind of a lesson, if I remember correctly, it really wasn’t all that bad,” Peter was rambling at this point. Tony released his arm gently and looked him in the eye.

“Why do you keep doing this to yourself, kid?”

“I, um-”

“You can’t keep letting yourself be put in harm’s way!”

“I was fine! I swear Mister Stark, I had it under control! I mean, sort of, I didn’t plan for it to happen the way it did, or anything, I didn’t plan for the building to fall on me, duh, but I knew basically what I was doing! And I got out of it, nothing bad happened it was fine,”

“For one, me and you have different definitions of fine–”

Peter tried to cut Tony off, but he kept talking.

“Secondly, even if that was considered ‘fine’, one day, you’re not going to be so lucky, you’re not going to get out, and then who knows what will happen. You could get injured, you could die. Do you even care? This is your life we’re talking about, Pete,”

“But I’m fine!” Peter yelled, he didn’t know why he was yelling, but he was getting mad at how Tony would just swoop in and yell at him for doing things Tony would’ve done if it meant saving someone. Why was it any different when he did it?

“Once again!” Tony was also raising his voice now. “We have two completely different definitions of fine!” Tony reached forward and grabbed his arm again, holding it up. “It’s a bruise this time, but what about next time? And don’t say it won’t ever happen again because this isn’t the first time! You keep putting yourself in these dangerous situations, without caring what happens to you, or what other people are going to do when you get hurt, you’re just being reckless, Peter,”

“Try and tell me you wouldn’t do the same thing!” Peter yelled, yanking his arm away. It hurt a lot, but he wouldn’t admit that. Especially not to Tony.

“It’s different, kid,”

“Tell me, how’s it different?”

“I don’t know kid, it just is, okay?”

“No!” Peter yelled. “It’s not okay, you would’ve done the same thing in that situation! And you can’t sit here and look me in my face that you wouldn’t because we both know that’s bullshit,”

“Peter-”

“No, Tony, It’s B-S!”

“Peter listen to me, you can’t keep doing this!” Tony was trying to avoid the ‘you would do it too,’ because yes, he would. He was dumb and reckless as well, but that’s a subject for another time.

“God,” Peter said, exasperated. He ran his fingers through his hair and through them back down to his sides. “Why are you so concerned with every little thing I do? I don’t see you riding up anyone else’s ass about this, it’s only me,”

“That’s not true,” Tony said, slightly throwing his head back. It wasn’t true was it? Think, Tony, think of an example come on- “Wanda, I’m always concerned about her,”

“No, you were concerned when the papers were being signed because she was seen as a weapon, it’s different and you know that, so why are you so concerned with me? Concerned with how I save lives, how I save people, how I defeat bad guys? Do you like adding to the stress level I have to deal with in those situations? Do you want me to be fighting and think “Oh, damn Mister Stark’s gonna be pissed, I should stop and let everyone else handle it,”

“To some extent, kid, Yes I do. I want you to think, I don’t want you plunging into battle without a second thought of the people who care about you!”

Peter didn’t respond. It felt like the breath was taken out of his lungs. He had so much he wanted to say but he just couldn’t.

“What would Ned feel? What would May feel? Do you think about that at all? How they’d feel if you died? Or got hurt? Held hostage?”

“I-” Peter began, but Tony cut him off.

“I mean, Jesus Christ kid, what about me? Do you know what I would do if you died? I’d be devastated. I love you, Peter, and as selfish as it might be, you can’t leave me. I can’t live in a world that you’re not in. And it hurts me to feel that way, it really does, but I can’t stop it. And so I have to watch as you constantly put yourself in harm’s way, and it’s killing me, Peter,”

Peter listened as Tony poured his heart out and he was shocked to say the least. He noticed how his jaw had dropped slightly, and instantly closed it.

“It’s like you don’t even care-”

It happened in a flash. Tony saw Peter stepping closer, bouncing up on his toes to make himself taller, and then he felt Peter’s soft lips against his. Tony was shocked for the first few seconds, obviously. However, he was able to gather his thoughts enough to start kissing back and place his hands on Peter’s hips and pull him closer.

Tony wasn’t sure who initiated the tongue kissing, but he was sure thankful it happened. It was hot and messy and Tony shouldn’t be getting excited by how inexperienced Peter obviously was, but the dirty reality was that it just made it all the better.

Every other thought of Tony’s was pushed away and all he could think of was Peter. Peter’s tongue. Peter’s body against his. Peter’s soft skin. Peter’s lips. Peter’s hands that were tangling themselves in his hair. Peter.

Unfortunately, you can’t kiss forever because of this pesky little thing called: oxygen.

“Sorry,” Peter said, not breaking eye contact and his face flushed red.

“Why are you apologizing?”

“I’m not entirely sure, but probably because of the fight, or the fact I kissed you, or-”

Tony cut him off. “That took some guts, I could’ve meant it all platonically,”

“Yeah, I thought about that but then,” Peter tilted his head, the corner of his mouth quirking up. “I decided it was worth the risk,”

Tony couldn’t help but smile. This kind of risk was a risk he didn’t mind Peter taking.

///sorry this took so long///

[holidaywishes]

Hard Not To Notice

  Requested: 🙅‍♀️

  Summary: Your roommate decides to take in your Sociology Professor after he gets locked out of his apartment and shenanigans ensue

  Author’s Note: So I did it. I know nobody asked for it, but I wrote Jamie Benn as a Professor as imagined in my dream. It is VERY VERY VERY long, like longer than I intended but I didn’t really think it merited a second chapter --  Because I know me and a second chapter would’ve turned into three and three to five and before you know it, it’s a whole thirty chapters. So, I’m sorry. You get one exceptionally long, drawn out, hopefully not boring, Jamie Benn imagine. Yeah, thinking back on it, I probably should’ve split it up -- but it’s too late. ENJOY!

  P.S.: YNN stands for Your Nickname

  P.P.S.: I have a cold, so I was drinking Hot Toddies and Rosé, meaning there was alcohol in my system, when I wrote part of this.

  Warning: (not super descriptive) smut, fluff, Jamie Benn as a University Professor, such a long chapter.

  masterlist

  “I’m going to fail out of University...” you whined, frustrated by the lack of material that your brain was retaining, “I’m such an idiot!”

  “Relax!” your roommate, Natasha, said, “you’re probably thinking too much about Mr. Benn”

  “Our Prof?”

  “Yeah,” she nudged, “I bet you’re having all kinds of fantasies about him teaching you a lesson...”

  “What on Earth are you talking about Natasha?” you countered

  “The guy is hot! And he’s got authority over us? Double hot..”

  “He’s our Professor...”

  “And you’re legal, as long as it’s consensual what’s the big deal?”

  “The fact that it’s unethical...”

  “Pfft..” she brushed you off and you rolled your eyes, going back to your notes to try to study for your final exam tomorrow afternoon but you couldn’t help thinking about why she thought you were thinking about Mr. Benn

  “Why would you say I’m thinking about him anyway?”

  “Simple.. you’re a virgin” she said matter-of-factly

  “Natasha!” you laughed, slight shock in your tone

  “What? Am I wrong?” she asked and you shook your head shyly, “see. Listen, it’s fine. Every virgin has someone they fantasize about losing it to and are super obvious about it...”

  “Wait, what do you mean?”

  “Don’t worry, guys are oblivious to literally everything. I hardly doubt he’s noticed. But that doesn’t mean I haven’t”

  “How am I obvious about it then?”

  “For one, your face goes beet red when you see him. Two, you try to avoid conversations about him in case you get a little too invested...” she wandered over to sit beside you, “three, he’s a hot Professor. Forget being a virgin, anyone with eyes would fantasize about that man...” You noticed her eyes wander to a corner in the room and you could tell that she was thinking about him, so you went back to studying.

  “It’s not like he notices us like that anyway,” you finally said, “we’re his students, he’s more.. decent than that”

  “Oh please,” Natasha rebutted, “guys aren’t decent. None of them. They’re all looking for sex and they’ll drop all their morals and ethics to get it”

  “Don’t be so cynical”

  “All I’m saying is that you’re hot and I’m hot and we all know he’s hot, so who’s to say he doesn’t see us like that?”

  “Let’s just study okay?” you pleaded

  “I can’t study here... too stuffy,” she giggled, “I’m going to the library...”

  “Good luck” you waved her out

  “And to you, my love“ she called back

Jamie’s P.O.V

  “I love my job, I love my job, I love my job...” you repeated to yourself as you wrote the copies of the final exam, “I love my job, I -- I hate these stupid exams!” Your whole apartment building seemed to be blaring EDM music that night and you couldn’t concentrate, it also didn’t help that your roommate brought back what you were almost positive was a Sorority girl and the two of them were fucking like Gorillas.

  “Hey dude!” your roommate, Lawrence, busted out of his bedroom after hours of not making an appearance, “are we being too loud? Sorry.. but I can’t say it’s going to get any quieter if you know what I mean...”

  “It’s fine.. I think I’d be better off at the library tonight anyway,” you admitted, “you two can be as loud as you want...” Larry smiled in excitement before rushing back to his room and slamming the door. You headed out to your car, making sure you had everything you needed before you drove to the library

  “At least it’ll be quiet” you thought to yourself. Once you got to the library, you searched for a table you could spread your papers out on and sat down.

  “Mr. Benn?” a voice whispered in front of you, forcing you to look up

  “Natasha...” you quickly tried to cover your papers from her, “what are you doing here?”

  “I came to study...” she said, still trying to keep her voice quiet, “what are you doing here?”

  “Last minute exam stuff...” you confessed

  “Couldn’t you have done that in your apartment or your office? It would’ve been way more private”

  “Apartment was too distracting and there’s more space at one of these tables than at my desk. I’m a tactile kind of guy. I like to hold the papers in my hands instead of writing everything on a computer, you know..?”

  “I get that..” she said and you noticed her bite her lip, “look if you need somewhere extra quiet, with a lot of space to spread out all of.. this, (Y/N) always manages to keep our apartment silent during finals. You’re welcome to use it, I’ll just text her and let her know”

  “That’s nice of you to offer, Ms. Parker, but I think it might be inappropriate”

  “Nonsense. Neither of us will be there. I’ll just give you my key, you go in and do your stuff and then that’ll be that...” You were just about to dismiss the offer again when you heard a loud crash behind you and you caved

  “You know what? I might have to take you up on your offer...”

  “Great, let me just text (YNN) to let her know”

  “(YNN)”

  “Mhmm. It’s what I always call (Y/N),” Natasha said as she put her phone back in her pocket, “I’ll see you tomorrow, Professor.” The words rolled off her tongue like venom and you knew that she would end up getting you in trouble one day.

  “So I may have done a thing...” Natasha texted

  “What does that mean Nat..? What did you do?” you replied warily

  “I ran into our beautiful Professor and he was desperate for some peace and quiet, so I offered up our apartment. He’s on his way over now...”

  “Excuse you?”

  “He has my key. I told him you’d be out of there...”

  “Tasha!”

  “(Y/N)...”

  “Where am I supposed to study?”

  “Oh hush you’ve done enough studying. Come hang out with me and the girls at the bar”

  “You and the girls? You mean the Sorority chicks who can’t stand the fact that I exist?”

  “Don’t be dramatic, they like you. They just haven’t had a chance to really get to know you...”

  “Mhm...”

  “I’m serious!”

  “Fine, what bar?”

  “O’Finnigan’s”

  “Of course... I’ll see you in like 10″

  “Love you bye!”

  You rolled your eyes and began rushing around your apartment. You definitely didn’t feel like you’d studied enough but the last thing you felt comfortable with was struggling to study while your hunky Professor was in the other room. Just as you went to grab the door handle, you heard the rustling of keys and you knew you were about to come face to face with Mr. Benn.

  “(Y/N).. Natasha said you wouldn’t be here,” he stammered, “I’m sorry”

  “No don’t be, I was just on my way out, Mr. Benn” you blushed

  “Okay, well don’t be out partying too late, you’ve got an exam tomorrow...” he smiled, making your face heat up and your stomach flutter

  “You don’t have to worry about me...” you said as you turned to leave, squeezing your eyes shut at your ridiculous words. When you got to the bar, you ordered a Vodka soda immediately

  “Someone’s on edge” one of Tasha’s Sorority girls chimed

  “Not on edge, just thought I’d join the party..”

  “That’s my girl!” Tasha yelled, “but I think we need shots. Lemon Drops, Tequila, Whiskey, Porn Stars!” You knew this would happen. Every night out with Natasha turned into an ‘I’ll drink you under the table and ask for more shots’ kinda thing which is why you had mastered the art of throwing back shots without actually throwing back shots. After a couple hours, your best friend was almost completely trashed and so were the other girls, so you called two Übers -- one to get the girls back to their Sorority house and the other to get you and your drunk roommate home. Getting everyone out of the bar was the biggest struggle but once they were in the respective cars, it was smooth sailing; you just hoped that Mr. Benn had gone home for both yours and Natasha’s sake.

  “Well holy shit!” Natasha yelled when you opened the door to find your Sociology Professor doing squats against the wall, an immediate flush of heat ran through your body and you could tell he was caught off guard by Natasha’s words.

  “What time is it?” he asked

  “It’s almost 2 AM,” you answered, “we thought you’d be gone by now...”

  “Yeah not working out and looking like a Greek God!” Natasha slurred slightly

  “Yeah, uhh, sorry. I find that any kind of exercise after long periods of sitting helps me think better but I should be on my way home...”

  “No, no it’s fine. You can, uhm.. you can take my bed. It’s really too late to leave now and you’re probably tired. I’ll just get this one to bed” you said, gesturing to Natasha, “and I’ll take the couch”

  “You don’t have to do that, I can sleep on the couch”

  “No it’s okay, I’ve got shorter legs. You’ll be much comfier on an actual mattress than a makeshift one. And it’s just one night...”

  “If you’re sure..”

  “Absolutely!” you smiled and helped your friend into her bed, trying to get her to stay quiet. Once you got her to sleep, you were able to grab some extra Pajamas and head over to the couch. You sighed heavily before changing into the comfy set of clothes and grabbing a blanket; falling asleep almost immediately. The next morning, the alarm on your phone rang in your ear and you raced to turn it off before it could wake anyone else up; You had a very particular exam ritual that needed no interruptions. First, wake up at 8 AM. Second, shower with steaming hot water. Third, banana smoothie. Fourth, moisturize. Fifth, pick outfit. Six, brush teeth. Seven, do makeup. Eight, figure out something to do with your pathetic excuse for hair -- always ultimately settling for au naturel; slightly wavy, but mostly straight with an elastic around your wrist in case you needed it off your neck. Nine, get dressed. Ten, cram before the exam. It was almost always a foolproof system. Except this time, your Professor was in your bedroom and you found yourself compelled to be as quiet as possible; especially when step five came into play.

  You tried your best to sneak into your bedroom to grab a pair of light wash high-waisted skinny jeans, a loose fitted white v-neck and a lacy black bralette, nearly forgetting to grab underwear and a pair of socks. Once you had everything, you tip-toed to the bathroom to brush your teeth, do a little bit of makeup and start on your hair, looking it over in its wet state as if you were going to do anything other than just leave it down; quickly spraying some heat protectant and brushing it through. You made sure the door was completely closed and locked before you started blow drying, hoping that Mr. Benn was a heavy sleeper. You were surprised by how long your hair was getting. Once it was dry it hit just past the middle of your back and you got a little distracted by the feeling of it sweeping across your skin that you didn’t hear Natasha wake up until she tried to open the bathroom door.

  “I need to pee” she whined

  “I’m almost done, I just have to get dressed,” you replied, “just give me like 10 minutes”

  “Five!” she countered and you agreed. You looked yourself over, making sure your outfit was okay; you would’ve just gone in sweatpants since this was your only final of the day but your Mom had always believed that if you look good, you feel good. Which is why she always wore dresses on flights, even 14 hour ones across multiple time zones. Plus, you had to be prepared for the very real possibility that celebratory ‘we finished Sociology’ drinks would happen after the exam. So, you wore a light top and figure flattering jeans that made your waist look tiny, spraying a few dabs of your favourite perfume behind your ears, on your neck and on your wrists before throwing on white vans for comfort.

Jamie’s P.O.V

  “Morning, girls” you greeted (Y/N) and Natasha

  “Morning Mr. Benn” Natasha said, popping blackberries in her mouth

  “Good Morning,” (Y/N) said with a sweet smile and, for some reason, this was this first time you noticed how different the two really were, “alright! I am off, I think.. Tasha are you coming with me?”

  “Hmm?” was Natasha’s only response

  “Why are you leaving so early? The exam isn’t until the afternoon..” you asked

  “Ugh, she does this every exam” Natasha said, rolling her eyes, “she thinks that she can cram every last molecule of information in before every exam. So she’s up at like 6 AM getting ready and then is out of the apartment a solid three hours before the room is even ready”

  “That’s not it exactly...” (Y/N) tried, “I just like to go over my flash cards and make sure I’m as prepared as possible. That way, at least I know I studied enough and that if I fail then I’ll do better next time...”

  “You ever heard that saying ‘if you don’t know it by now, you just don’t know it?’” Natasha asked snidely and you noticed (Y/N) narrow her eyes at her, making you laugh slightly

  “Don’t worry, you’ll do great!” you tried to reassure her, noticing her straighten her posture, “you’re one of my best students. Plus, I don’t make my exams super difficult...” The smile she gave at your words lit something inside of you that worried you slightly. She was your student, at least for a couple more hours, you shouldn’t be feeling this way toward her.

  “Good to know,” she said with that same smile on her face, “I’m still gonna head to the library for a bit, just to clear my head a little. Tasha?”

  “Nah, I’m good. I’ll stay here with our Professor...”

  “Okay, you want me to bring you anything? Coffee, Tea, Croissant?” she giggled and Natasha replied by shaking her head, “Mr. Benn?”

  “Jamie,” you corrected, “I think you can call me by my name after I just spent the night in your b-- apartment...”

  “Okay.. Jamie, would you like me to pick you up anything?”

  “No I’m fine, thank you though” you smiled and she nodded before waving goodbye to you and Natasha.

  “Guess it’s just the two of us, Jamie” she whispered your name and leaned forward, purposefully pushing out her chest

  “Call me Mr. Benn, please, Ms. Parker,” you replied, placing her key on the counter, “I’m actually going to get ready myself. I suggest you do the same.” You could tell by the look on her face as you turned away that she had never been rejected before and it confused the hell out of her.

  Which actually made you extremely satisfied for some reason.

  You were ready. You knew you were. But this was just part of your routine. You always had to cram before you took your final or else you’d only have yourself to blame if it all went horribly, terribly wrong. Though, you’d be lying if you said you weren’t trying to get some distance between you and Mr. B-- you and Jamie before the exam started. You were one of the first to get to the classroom, preceded only by Autumn -- the epitome of a Teacher’s Pet. You walked straight to your regular seat, in the front row, and brought out some lined paper, an extra pen and pencil and an eraser, scrolling through Instagram as the rest of the class drifted in and claimed their seats when you saw a post from Natasha -- almost completely naked, with only underwear on and her arm covering her breasts -- and your body filled with anger. You hated when she did this and you knew, even before you read the caption, that she was looking for some kind of approval from somebody, anybody.

  @yourfavouriterussianprincess: I think I look pretty good, don’t you?

  Before you replied, you decided to look through the comments; seeing a flood of, “you’re beautiful,” “I’d do filthy things to you,” and, the one you always hated to see because it gave her such a huge ego boost, “I’ve never seen anyone more beautiful than you.” You rolled your eyes and decided to send her a text

  “What the fuck, Natasha?”

  “What?”

  “You’re posting nudes now?”

  “It was tasteful, I was covered”

  “What happened? You said you’d never do that?”

  “He fucking rejected me (YNN), Mr. Benn. Our ‘classy, gentlemanly’ Sociology Prof. Rejected ME”

  “So you took to Instagram to what? prove him wrong?”

  “Yes! I needed a bit of validation. Sue me!” Just as her text rang through, he walked through the door and you made eye contact with him, smiling awkwardly and he turned his gaze away from you

  “And you tagged him in it! are you crazy? you could get him fired!!”

  “Relax miss goodie goodie, he’s not gonna get fired. It’s not like I said anything about him. I just wanted to make sure he saw what he was missing out on...” You were starting to get angry with her. It was like she didn’t care that she was putting his career in jeopardy

  “Whatever. Are you on your way? The exam starts soon and everyone is pretty much here...”

  “Don’t worry, I’m like five minutes out”

  “So... see you in 15?”

  “Har Har.” You rolled your eyes and put your phone on silent, sitting back in your chair and fidgeting with your pen.

  “Alright everyone,” Jamie said, “now, I know who you all are but unfortunately, it’s exam protocol for you to put your University IDs on your desk. So, if you could please grab those and put them in the left hand corner of your desks. I’ll come grab them and give them to you once you’ve handed me your exam...” You leaned down to grab your wallet and you felt like someone was watching you, forcing you to snap back upright in your seat when you noticed Jamie staring at his phone and quickly putting it face down as Natasha came into the room. Shit, you thought to yourself, he saw it and after this exam she wouldn’t be his student anymore...

  “Sorry I’m late, Professor...” she said in a baby voice as she found her seat

  “That’s fine Ms. Parker, take a seat..” he said, clearing his throat as her eyes never left his, “Alright a few things before we start. I didn’t have time to proof-read the exams last night so there might be some typos; if you find any, raise your hand and I’ll come see you. Since all the exams are different, I can’t just write the corrections on the board, so it’s easier if I just come to each of you... Okay, you can start.. good luck everyone!” You opened your exam booklet and began reading the questions, listening to everyone frantically circling and scratching out their answers while Mr. Benn came to collect IDs. It wasn’t long before half the class was raising their hands to call Jamie to their desk about this typo and that mistake and, while you had the same concerns, you figured it would save everyone a lot of time if you just wrote your corrections on a blank sheet of paper and brought it to him after the exam. You could hear some students getting increasingly frustrated even though they seemed to be whizzing through the exam but you had to stay focused on the papers in front of you. Autumn was one of the first to turn in her exam and she shot you a sarcastic smile which you immediately shook off but when you saw Natasha hand in her exam and glide her hand over Jamie’s arm before sauntering out, you got a flurry of butterflies in your stomach and you forced yourself to take a deep breath. One by one, the class began to empty and you found yourself getting more and more nervous, pushing your hair from one side to the other out of habit; when you looked up to check the time, you saw Jamie staring at you rather intensely and your eyes quickly snapped back to your paper.

  You had two questions left on your exam but all you could think about was what he was thinking and why he was looking at you.

Jamie’s P.O.V

  When you walked past to collect her ID, the smell of (Y/N)’s perfume permeated the air; leaving you in a bit of a daze. The rest of the students were constantly raising their hands to call you over to correct a question but not (Y/N) and you couldn’t help but wonder why; there had to be typos on her exam. You figured you’d let her do whatever she was planning and focus on the students raising their hands. Eventually, there seemed to be a lull and you were able to sit down at your desk, where you were faced with the sexual advances that Natasha was clearly making by tagging you in a provocative Instagram photo.

  “Here’s my exam, Mr. Benn” Autumn smiled, handing her paper to you

  “Thank you, Autumn,” you replied, giving her back her ID, “have a good break.” You looked back out to the rest of the class to see if anyone needed help when you noticed (Y/N) biting her lip and tracing her pen along her collarbone and just barely down her cleavage.

  Holy fuck you thought to yourself, taking a harsh gulp that you hoped was silent enough for no one to notice but that didn’t stop you from imagining what (Y/N)’s lips would taste like and the noises she’d make as you kissed her neck.

  “Mr. Benn...” Natasha shook you out of your thoughts, “just need my ID from you. I hope you liked what you saw today...” she slid her hand over your shoulder and down your arm before you stopped her, making her pout before she sauntered out of the classroom. You noticed (Y/N) take a deep breath and gather her hair to push it to the opposite side of her neck, revealing flushed skin underneath and your mind continued to wander. There was only one other student besides (Y/N) in the classroom and you could tell she was procrastinating.

  “You two finished?” you asked, stepping out from behind your desk just as (Y/N) stood up; almost running into her. Her (Y/E/C) eyes stared widely up at you and you licked your lips in anticipation. What was happening here?

  “Thanks Mr. Benn! It was a great semester. Have a good summer” Tanner said as he raced out of the room, grabbing his ID off your desk.

  “Take it easy Mr. Brown!” You smiled at (Y/N) who slowly handed you her exam.

  “So.. I had some things I thought I’d save for after the exam...” she said and you cocked your eyebrow as you sat down at your desk. She leaned beside you, hair falling effortlessly off her shoulder, and started explaining what she had put on the separate sheet of paper but you were too distracted to really pay attention. As she finished, she tucked some hair behind her ear, “I just thought, with everyone raising their hands at once, this was a more effective way of pointing out corrections. Hopefully, it makes sense. I mean I think it’s clear but I’m the one who wrote it so obviously I w--” she stopped suddenly when she looked at you and you realized that your mouth was gaping slightly

  “Wow..”

  “Oh my gosh..” she said, covering her mouth, laughing lightly, “I’m probably creating so much more work for you. God, I’m an idiot. I knew it... I’m so sorry” just as you were going to talk her down, her phone chimed and all her attention was drawn to it and she started toward the door; you had to stop her.

  “(Y/N), wait” you laid your hand flat against the door, stopping her from leaving, your chest pressed against her back so tightly you could feel her breathing

  “Mr. Benn...” she whispered, “I have to go now...” You dropped your hand from the door, worrying what it might look like to her and waited to see what she would do. When she chose not to move, you took the chance to run your index finger along the side of her exposed neck, slowly making your way up to her ear before you moved your mouth to her collarbone. You had just barely made contact with her skin when she turned the handle and opened the door, running out before you could stop her. Fuck, you thought to yourself, this wasn’t good.

  “Did you get this text that Autumn sent out to everyone? Are you going?”

  “What? Oh yeah, I just saw that.. Sorry, something just kinda.. happened...”

  “What does that mean? Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, no I’m fine. Are you going?”

  “To Autumn’s thing? I mean, it’s at O’Finnigan’s. She doesn’t have a claim over the pub but I guess if she sees us we can join the table..?”

  “Yeah, sure. Sounds good. I’ll meet you there...”

  “Is everything okay?”

  Was everything okay? Technically, yes. But how do you explain to your best friend that your hot Sociology Professor almost, kinda, sorta kissed your neck? Especially after he rejected her. Do you even tell her? Nothing had happened and it’s not like you had stopped him from doing anything but you couldn’t think of where to even start.

  “Absolutely! I’ll be at the pub in like 15 minutes. Where are you?”

  “I’ll be there in 10.” Sure enough, you met Tasha there and saw Autumn with the rest of the Sociology class right by the bar. It was impossible to avoid them, so the two of you just decided to embrace them.

  “Shit, I can’t believe he showed up!” Natasha pulled you aside, “how do I look?”

  “Who showed up? What are you talking about?” you asked, looking around until you found Jamie at the bar

  “I honestly thought he’d be marking exams...” she said, fixing her dress and adjusting her bra to push up her boobs, “seriously, how do I look?”

  “Uhm.. you look great but are you sure--” you tried but she had already left to walk toward the group. You sighed and followed behind shortly after, trying your best to avoid Jamie because you were still unsure of what happened between the two of you; this would be the only time that you were grateful for Natasha’s need for validation. You headed to the bartender first before even grabbing a seat but after you got your drink, the only seat left was beside Jamie, so you reluctantly made your way to him.

  “Hi,” he said shyly, “can we talk?”

  “It’s not a gre--” you started before Tasha interrupted

  “So what was with all the typos Teach?”

  “I think I was just really distracted last night” he confessed

  “Hopefully we all passed” someone from the end of the table joked and everyone else laughed. A few hours later, some of your classmates had gone home, others were trying to create a dance floor and you were trying not to drink too much; to prevent yourself from doing anything too stupid. Tanner pulled you to the makeshift dance floor and you danced and laughed until every part of you hurt, running over to the bar to get another drink. You watched as the rest of the group went home and then you searched for Natasha, realizing she must have gone home as well, and you took out your phone to order an Über.

  “Dance with me?” you recognized Jamie’s voice in your ear and you agreed, only because everyone was gone. The song switched to something slow and Jamie took your hand in his, staring into your eyes before speaking, “I wanted to apologize for what happened earlier”

  “Hmm..” you hummed, laying your head on his chest

  “I didn’t mean to overstep...”

  “You didn’t overstep,” you finally said, “I was just a little surprised”

  “Surprised?” he asked, making you look up at him

  “Honestly,” you started, “I didn’t think you noticed me like that.. I just thought I was one of your students.” He smiled at you and let your head fall back on his chest

  “You’re hard not to notice” he whispered and you pulled your eyes back to meet his, staring intermittently at his lips while his hands gripped your waist tighter to pull you close to him, your chest heaving with want; Jamie leaned in to close the tension that had been there all night, since you left his classroom really, and pressed his soft lips against yours. You hesitantly kissed him back before wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders, feeling the tickle of his beard against your cheek.

  “Wanna get out of here?” he pulled back, breathless, but kept his forehead against yours. You nodded and he led you out of the bar, getting in one of the cabs already waiting out front. The whole ride to his apartment, you ran your fingers over the lines on his palm; mockingly reading his fortune

  “So this is your money line..” you giggled, “apparently, you’ll run into great fortune later in life but until then you’ll suffer financial uncertainty..”

  “Whoa.. dark” he laughed

  “And this is your life line...” you stroked the line that curved around his thumb, “it’s long. Which is good. That means you’ll live like forever!” You smiled and looked up at him through your eyelashes, catching him staring and he smiled back at you

  “Let me see yours,” he said, playfully grabbing your hand, “this line here, is your heart line...”

  “Hmm..” you hummed with a small smile playing on your lips, “what does it say about me?”

  “It’s curved, which means you’re... adventurous when it comes to love...”

  “Well that’s just not true” you admitted with a bright smile and Jamie looked back at you, capturing your eyes with his, placing both of his hands on either side of your face, stroking your cheek with his thumb; beginning to lean in for a kiss when the driver stopped the car and asked for payment.

  You tried to be as quiet as possible when you got into Jamie’s apartment but the alcohol was starting to hit you and you just wanted him. You wanted him to strip you of the fabric covering your skin, you wanted him to press his lips against yours, you wanted him to let his hands roam freely around your body, you wanted him to push his body against yours, you wanted him to make you feel things you’d never felt before.

  “Larry?!” Jamie called and you giggled before he pushed you up against the wall, “Larry, you here?”

  “Who’s Larry?” you laughed, running your fingers delicately up and down his forearms, and kicked off your shoes

  “My roommate. I don’t want him walking in on us if he’s here...” he said and you nodded once, biting your bottom lip and snaking your hands behind his head while you waited if someone returned his answer. When no one did, you pulled Jamie down to kiss you and you felt his hands move down to your ass where his grip tightened just enough for you to let out a small scream.

  “Sorry,” you giggled, covering your mouth, “you surprised me...” He brought his lips back to yours, quickly laying a kiss there before smiling against your lips, picking you up and taking you into his bedroom, kicking the door shut with his foot. You twirled your fingers in his hair while you laid gentle kisses along his jaw until he set you down in front of the bed. You moved your hands up and down his torso, feeling his toned body underneath, as you kissed him deeply and unbuttoned his shirt, pulling the hem out from where it was tucked and moving it off his shoulders. You reveled in his body for a minute before pushing yourself up onto your tip toes to kiss him passionately, your hands slowly caressing his body as they made their way to unbutton his jeans. His hands seemed to stop yours and he pulled his lips from yours; you opened your eyes and caught his just as he knelt before you, his large hands untucking your shirt from your jeans. You looked down at what he was doing as he nipped at your skin and unbuttoned your jeans, tugging at them slightly as he pulled them off, lifting each foot when the denim got to the floor and his eyes found yours as he made his way back up to remove your t-shirt.

  “I’ve always wondered what you looked like under all these clothes...” he smirked, moving your arms above your head so he could lift your shirt off, leaving you in just your lacy black bralette and black underwear. You instinctively covered your exposed body but Jamie shook his head, peeling your arms away before lifting your chin up so he could lean down to kiss you; deepening the kiss by wrapping his arms around your ass to lift you onto the mattress. He wrapped your legs around his waist to bring you as far back onto the mattress as possible, positioning your lower back on his pillows before stepping off the bed to push off his shoes and remove his jeans. Before too long, he was on top of you again, kissing and nipping at your lips, gripping your body tightly and grinding his hips into yours; you craved more but you weren’t sure how honest you should be.

  “Jam-- Mr. Benn?” you reverted, causing him to stop his kisses, “maybe we should slow down...”

  “What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?” his face scrunched in concern and you raised your eyebrows before stroking his cheek

  “No, of course not!” you said, “I’m sorry, I just... think I have to tell you something”

  “Go for it...” his eyes bored into yours and you hesitated, hearing Natasha’s voice in your head

  “Here’s a tip: guys already know when a girl is a virgin. It’s something about the way she presents herself in bed... So when you do finally have sex, just don’t tell the guy.”

  “(Y/N)?” Jamie asked, snapping you out of your head

  “I’m a virgin” you finally said, more blunt than you anticipated

  “Oh...” was Jamie’s only response and immediate regret filled your body, “that’s okay”

  “I want to keep going...” you admitted, noticing the smile on his face return, “I just couldn’t continue if I thought you thought I had.. more experience...” Without missing a beat, he found your lips and pressed his body close to yours, closing the last bit of space between the two of you.

  “Hmm wait...” he pulled away and you whined at the distance he created, “please don’t call me Mr. Benn..” you smiled at his request before pulling him back to your lips. His hands began to roam your body, slowly making their way down to your core as he nipped at the skin behind your ear and kissed your neck slowly. When his fingers reached into your underwear, one slipped inside you without hesitation and you moaned at the sudden sensation, lightly tugging on Jamie’s hair. You felt him nip at your neck quickly before making his way down to your chest and with each moan you let out, he pumped his finger faster inside of you.

  “Fuck” you breathed, making Jamie quicken the pace of his finger before sitting up to adjust his position, falling back onto his shins and bringing you up with him, fingers still curled inside of you.

  “Take this off...” he gestured to your bralette with a quick bite on his bottom lip and you removed the fabric quickly, revealing your peaked nipples, Jamie’s mouth moving to cover them just as quickly as his finger moved inside you and you let out a breathless moan; you needed him inside of you. You snaked your hand to the waistband of his briefs and pulled his face back to yours with your free hand to watch his face as you took him in your hand. He scrunched his face at you and you laughed

  “What?”

  “Lean back, let me take care of you...” He laid you back against his pillows, moving the hair out of your face before laying a kiss to your forehead; His hands gripped your hips tightly before pulling your underwear off. You could tell that he was hesitating, so you lined him up with your entrance and drove your hips up; the feeling of him finally inside you practically lifted you of the mattress and you let out a moan that you swore echoed through the entire apartment. His pace was faster than you thought he’d be and you were still trying to adjust to his size while he pumped in and out of you; your face contorting between pleasure and pain until Jamie finally slowed his movements. The slower his pace, the deeper his thrusts and the more pleasurable the experience. As he kissed your neck, you hummed at the feeling, making him nip at your collarbone and increase his speed slightly; a strew of curse words left Jamie’s lips as your hands roamed his body before stationing them just above his ass

  “Harder...” you breathed and he obliged, his head falling to rest on your chest as he continued to thrust into you. It wasn’t long after that Jamie’s pace became more and more sporadic, letting you know that he was close. You moaned into his ear as you felt his hand travel down your chest to your clit, circling his thumb as he pumped into you

  “Cum for me, baby” he whispered in your ear as he continued his ministrations. You arched your back to create more friction and enhance the pleasure and before you knew it, you were seeing stars. Once he finished, he rolled off of you, laying on his side watching your chest rise and fall while you came down from your high; you turned to look at him, smiling and feeling your face flood with heat

  “Are you blushing?” he asked, dumbfounded

  “Maybe...” you admitted

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know..” you moved the sheet in front of your face to cover your blush

  “I’m not your professor anymore...” he said, knowing that’s probably what you were thinking about, and began tracing shapes on your shoulder

  “That’s probably for the best,” you smiled, turning your head to look at him, “I really hated your class...” You waited for his reaction and he just laughed before pulling you close to tickle you; causing you to laugh loudly

   “Oh yeah? That a fact?” he asked, tickling you and intermittently kissing your neck

  “Stop! Stop!” you laughed, telling him you had to get up and he just watched you put on his shirt and saunter out of his room.

Jamie’s P.O.V

  (Y/N) made her way back into your bed and you couldn’t believe that she hadn’t just decided that she’d made a terrible mistake and that she should leave. Instead, she curled up next to you and you basked in the smell of her perfume that had managed to last through the night. When she caught you staring at her, you could tell that she was a little concerned

  “Is something wrong?”

  “Nope, why would anything wrong?” you asked

  “You’re staring...” she smiled and tucked her head into your chest

  “You’re beautiful,” you blushed, “I couldn’t help but stare.” The two of you laid awake for a while, her fingers roaming over your shoulders and yours tracing down her back, before both of you faded to sleep. The next morning, you woke up to an empty space beside you and you brought your hands to your head, thinking that she finally got sick of you.

  “What’s wrong?” you heard her voice ring through the air, “have a bad sleep Professor?”

  “You’re still here?”

  “Of course I’m still here, weirdo,” she smiled, lifting her glass up to show you, “I just wanted something to drink.”

  “Come here...” you lifted up the sheets to guide her back into you. She took a quick sip of her Orange Juice and set the cup on your nightstand before jumping under the covers with you. You kissed her neck quickly and pulled her close to you, “now what did I say about calling me Professor...”

  “Nothing...” she giggled, “you said not to call you Mr. Benn anymore...”

  “Sneaky” you said, letting out a laugh. After a bit more teasing, you managed to convince her to stay in bed with you all day. And it was the best day you’d had in a long time.

[bearpillowmonster]

Persona 5 Review (Palaces)

Now I think it’s be interesting to split up each villain and review their arcs. First is Kamoshida, I like the layout of his palace. Sneaking along the walls and such and they really give you the drive to get rid of him. This is one of the only ones I actually got all the will seeds, I found that you only get the accessory if you collect the three, I don’t think there’s any bonus for collecting ALL of them from ALL the palaces though.

After that, they introduce something called Mementos which is basically everybody’s palace, a compilative place of where small distortions go that aren’t big enough for their own palace. This is kind of used for side missions, it’s not that bad though, the dark sections can be annoying but I see why they were put in there. You visit it throughout the game and after each boss, a new section gets added, going farther down. This is also one of the places to grind and a quick way to grind is to mow down enemies with your van using the dash button, rather than going through the trouble of battling, you even get their mask. That’s only if they’re not too far down though because the farther down you go, the tougher the enemies. It’s funny because once you get tough enough, going to the higher entrances, making enemies RUN from you while you’re mowing them down, it’s a blast. I will recommend though that you don’t piss off too many and get alarmed because they’ll come in waves, one battle after another and if you’re deep in Mementos, it can be scary.

Next is Madarame, I like the setting of a museum and the boss (better than Kamo) but I will also say that it was annoying to traverse, it built upon the urgency by adding legal action into the mix. This is probably in my top 3 palaces, I just don’t have a whole lot to say about it.

Kaneshiro (sounds like Kamoshida) I feel like his character is very one way, an easy prey, I’m fine with that but I’m just saying that the depth was better for the previous two. The boss isn’t exactly my favorite, it’s a little different between 5 and Royal so I looked it up and am accounting for both of them. I do however like the style of the bank and the vault is one giant lock, the enemies are probably some of the most annoying though with the introduction of the dogs.

Alibaba. Now this palace is actually pretty cool because it changes the context and way you do things, again with the real life interference as well. What I really like are the little hieroglyphics puzzles at the end of each section, those things are my jam but while I appreciate the variety and setup, this was one of the weaker palaces. The boss was weak as well, more of just a sponge unless I didn’t play it right (maybe I was underleveled? I mean I don’t think I even died tbh though) because it was really cool when you used the arrows but really dragging when she was in the air.

I will say that I took a break after this arc (about 35-40 hours in) not because I was tired of it, far from it actually, I was having tons of fun but traversing the palaces just seemed off to me at this point so I thought if I took a break and got a fresh perspective when I came back, it would be better. It was hard to detach myself from it because I really enjoyed what I had played thus far but it felt good to get back into the groove of it after a break. This was both a good place to take the break given the hours spent and what the next palace is, and kind of a weird place because after Alibaba you take the field trip but I would still recommend you take a decent break at some point because...

The next palace is Okumura. Now I’ve seen some flack about this one, saying it’s the least favorite of the bunch, so you don’t want to have the previous build up of hours hamper your experience since it’s considered the worse. Honestly I don’t think it’s that bad (the palace!) now the boss on the other hand is a different story, I understand that a CEO is only as good as their employees and the idea to use them is pretty reflective of the palace itself but it’s annoying because if you don’t have the right type of persona then you’re screwed because they just flee or blow themselves up, it’s just left to chance sometimes. I think it would be cool to have a race against him with the timer rather than a battle. It made me so stressed, not because of the timer but because of the stupid robots, it was easily the battle I spent the most tries on, I even had to go back and grind and fuse a new persona to finally beat him. (I was almost level 40 so you might have an easier time if you did more persona work than I did) but you don’t get any All Out Attacks either apparently. Also the story (though a bit nit picky) is easy to complain about but it’s not as bad as they say imo especially since the characters explain themselves afterwards.

Casino Master. This was probably the only spoiler I got for this game but I feel I would’ve figured it out anyway and it didn’t even turn out to be that big of a spoiler. Also the addition of the “Crow” should’ve been the “Raven” as an Edgar Allen Poe reference, it would’ve fit the character better in my opinion. I don’t like that they use the same card mechanic from the last palace, it makes more sense with this one but still. There’s an enemy in this palace that was bugged for my play through and it was only that specific enemy whenever I encountered them, it would say something like “it’s groaning” (which it sometimes does with enemies such as Regent) but for this one it just kept doing it and would get stuck, I just had to button mash a bit and then they would attack normally but just a small stain I’ll point out, easily patchable I’m sure. As for the story, I’m not quite sure what makes the palace in the first place, what is the distortion exactly? Other than that, another in the top 3.

The boss is actually kind of cool, in a way it’s the opposite of Okumura but an actual boss instead of enemies. It’s probably my favorite because of the design and style. I’m not done yet but honestly when I got about 1/3 of the way through this game, I thought it was a 5/5 but I re-evaluated and the one thing that I want is a bit of gameplay variety even if it’s just the bosses. I’ve talked about this before but it makes everything feel samey and while I know more or less all turn based RPGs are guilty of the same thing (so I can’t really hold that against this game) this one just seems so different. It doesn’t wear itself out, for turn based, it’s not so bad but it just leaves you desiring one extra step, an extra something everytime to say “This is the fourth-fifth-sixth boss!” rather than just chip damage with no weaknesses, some kind of reward for playing the way you do perhaps.

Armstrong from MGS Rising (yeah I didn’t have a codename for this one). I really like the setup, probably the best palace to be honest, in a way it’s sort of a compilation. I could see where people could complain about it even if I haven’t seen anything. This palace also has the best music, it’s very fitting and stylistic. There’s a little bit of a barrage of mini bosses throughout, I kind of like it but the last one before the big boss is tough because it’s 3 different sections, one after the other but it’s kind of a tease/warning to say “Are you really ready for the real boss? If you had trouble with this, then you’ll have trouble with him.” 

Let's talk about the final final boss (for what’s known as the ‘true’ ending route) because I apparently did the ‘true’ ending after looking into it, it doesn't matter who you picked for a romantic route, it matters what choices you made at certain points in the game, the ‘true’ ending is just the longest, there are different points in the game where it could end and be the other good/bad endings so yeah. Let me talk about it without spoiling anything, Notice I said ‘true’ with quotes. I'm going to summarize this reddit post I saw, justifying it, out of context. The boss is idolized, he's made by the people, he didn't make the people and because he's pretending, we were sent to destroy him. (In the grand scheme of things (story-wise)) because it bothers me that they make him out to be almighty. It is a persona and personas are figments of imagination, they're amalgamations of how the characters perceive their desire/distortion, not the real thing therefore it shouldn't be blasphemous right? That thin line is what's making me knock this game a little more because its material is so concerning. Also you’re stopping people from doing bad things, that’s ‘just’, correct? You’re defeating the seven sins, that’s ‘just’ (at least that’s what the will seeds are called). I guess they wanted to try and make it a true question “Are the Phantom Thieves ‘Just’?” They ask it over and over and in reality, I ask myself the same thing.

You can buy as seen on tv stuff, the big thing I’ll say helped me was the cleaning spray so snatch that up when it becomes available, I think it’s also available in Kichijoji but it lowers your enemy’s defense and I didn’t have that move for any of my characters. Make sure you have everything done that you want done by the time you reach the final date after sending the calling card and beat the boss such as confidants, a proper persona, side quests and a good amount of stat boosters and stuff. I can't say too many specifics on what to bring because you're going to play different than I did so just fill in the blanks, have cans of whatever you don't have as a move because it's going to be a stretch of fights and there really isn't room to turn back.

[victorianoir]

The Detective and the ManFatale, Part 3

Part 3 of the ManFatale arc!! If you haven’t heard of The Detective and the Tech Guy and would like to read it from the beginning, here’s the MASTERPOST. If you’d like to read this chapter on fanfiction.net, you can do that here: TRALALA.

Have fun!

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Welcome home. What's this?"

The happy look on his face as he looked up at her from the bottom of the stairs dimmed as she held up the file she'd just found, wiggling it a bit. She raised an eyebrow and gave him a flat look when he didn't say anything for a solid thirty seconds.

"Wh—Um. Where did you happen to find that?" He cleared his throat and came up a few steps, stopping with his hand on the railing then. "I'm not sure it's mine."

She made the look on her face even flatter. "Well, it sure looks like there's a lot of your handwriting in here. Alongside a really childish scribble—I can only imagine you're employing some sort of third grader to help you."

Chuck seemed to ignore that part. "But…where did you—?"

"Chuck, it was under your mattress."

He sighed, looking relieved for some reason. "God, I thought maybe I'd left it out or something, and that would've been really great spy work."

"Chuck!"

"S-Sorry. Sorry, I—" He hastened up the stairs to stand on the step a few down from where she stood on the landing. "It's my folder. My file. I did it."

"Yeah, that was never in question, bud. What in the hell is this? What are you doing?" She held it up again and he gently reached out to take it from her.

"I'm…detecting."

"No, Chuck. No, you are not detecting. Please, please tell me you aren't doing what it looks like you're doing," she pleaded with him, arms crossed at her chest.

"Well…" He winced. "Do you want me to say that, or do you want the truth?"

"Chuck!"

"Gah! Okay! I'm…I was just doing some light research, that's all. Into this guy who hired you. He's wily, okay? Extremely wily and untrustworthy and it only took me seeing him for like a few seconds for me to figure that out." A look of almost defiance came over her boyfriend's face then. "I have no regrets."

"Are you insane?" she asked, backing up so that he could join her on the landing.

"No, I was just…having your back."

"Look at this!" She grabbed the file back and opened it up, flipping through to a picture that had been taken of Cartwright from what looked like a pretty close range. She took it out and held it up for him to look at.

"I know. I took that."

"Yeah, Chuck! I kinda figured! Have you been following my client?"

He was silent for long enough that it was pretty clear confirmation.

"Oh my God," she moaned. "Chuuuck."

"Okay, yes. Yes, I followed him. But I was very careful." Something told her he really wasn't careful. He was untrained, a guy who watched a lot of movies and heard about her cases. That was it. "I was, Sarah!"

"You can't do this, Chuck! You can't follow my clients around and do your own…What is this? Did you just go around taking pictures?"

"There are his day to day activities in there, too."

She opened it again and looked at his notes. "Lox on a bagel, black coffee, flirted with the barista. Namor the Sub-Mariner? What the hell's that?"

"That's the codename Morgan and I gave Cartwright."

Sarah's eyes shut slowly and she took a calming, long breath, letting it out, breathing in again, and then she snapped the file shut and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Morgan? Not only were you following my client, which is dangerous in and of itself, you brought Morgan into it?"

That explained the childish scrawl alongside Chuck's neat handwriting.

"He's been a very good partner."

"HE'S A HIBACHI CHEF, CHUCK!"

Chuck winced. "A very sneaky hibachi chef, though—No, I see your point. It's a fair point."

The look she gave him apparently got her point across.

"Chuck, why did you follow my client? Why are you building a file on him? Why are you taking notes on his whereabouts, on his habits? Why are you following him and taking pictures? What prompted you to do something this stupid?"

Her boyfriend let out a sigh and scratched the back of his neck. At least he seemed somewhat contrite. "Look, he was shifty. And some of the things you were saying when you'd talk about the case, how you weren't finding anything on Jerald Brown, and how he seemed almost…I dunno, impatient, that you weren't."

A thought hit her then and she chewed on her lip a little. "Chuck, did you…do this because he's young and handsome? Was this a jealousy thing? Trying to find something on him to make me…I dunno, not want to go through with this case?"

She felt a little bad suggesting it, but she needed to know this wasn't Chuck's jealousy making him do foolish and dangerous things.

"No! Sarah, it's not that! I'm not a total idiot! I'm just…a little bit of one about certain things. This isn't jealousy. This is…This guy is shifty!"

Sarah crossed her arms again and sighed. "You met him for, like, two minutes. Tops."

"So?! I had a gut feeling! It was just some harmless following."

"In legal terms, it's stalking."

"Nobody saw us! We wore disguises!"

Sarah gaped. "Oh God. You didn't…"

"Yes! Yes, we wore disguises. He had no idea he was being followed the whole time. Your tech guy is actually a pretty good detective…" He smoldered at her.

"Chuck, you hid this file from me by putting it under your mattress. So excuse me if I don't have the utmost faith in your detective abilities."

He frowned. "It seemed like a good place."

"Chuck, I'm in your bed more nights than I'm in my own, for the most part," she half-laughed, shaking her head. "Anyway, that isn't the point. The point is that this was incredibly dangerous. Insanely dangerous. You could've been hurt or even killed, and then you dragged Morgan into it and he could've been hurt, too. This was foolish!"

"We were helping you!"

"I don't need help! Do you think I'm stupid, Chuck? Do you think I got this far with just a bunch of luck or something? I've got my own cases well in hand."

"I thought he was maybe trying to pull something over on you. Getting you to do something bad."

"You think I don't know that? I've been doing this work for years, Chuck! I worked for Pinkerton! You think I'd ever let someone get the drop on me like this? You think I trust my clients blindly?" She thrust the file into his chest. "I've got a file on Cartwright just like this at my office." He looked very regretful, sorry, and she loved him dearly, but God, he could be such an idiot sometimes. He really could be. Then she glanced at his file again. "Though yours is a lot thicker, so that's…interesting."

"Um, I'm an incredibly thorough detective." She glared. "Not a detective, fine. But…researcher?" She glared harder. "A P.I.'s boyfriend who is in big trouble?"

"Bingo," she chirped, raising her eyebrows.

"Listen, Sarah…I know you're really mad at me…"

"Yeah, well…you obviously think I'm a bad P.I., so that feels good."

"What?" The pitch of his voice got impressively high. "Sarah, that's not it at all!"

"You thought this guy was pulling the wool over my eyes, taking advantage of me. That's why you built this folder on him, isn't it? This is all work you thought I wasn't doing."

"No, you-you were focusing on investigating Brown and I thought maybe you'd prioritize that over checking out your client so I—bad phrasing, I didn't mean checking out checking out. Like, obviously he is a very good looking man. And super charming, I guess, if you're into that sort of thing."

"Yeah, well, I'm not…" A thought occurred to her then and she looked up at him with wide eyes. "That's it, isn't it? You thought he'd charmed me, that I was falling for his whole spiel and therefore trusted him blindly. That's why you decided to follow him, isn't it? That's why you put this together with Morgan!"

At least he didn't do her the disservice of trying to lie to her. Instead, he huffed and scratched his ear. "Okay, full disclosure, it felt like a lot of flirting was going on in your office when I walked in last week and it maybe…sort of…got under my skin. But it wasn't about—I mean, I know you aren't the type of person to neglect the right thing just because some blue-eyed Alain Delon lookalike is batting his eyelashes at you."

"You're damn right I'm not! Have you been here for the last year and eleven months of our relationship?"

"Yes," he said weakly.

"He could be the most charming man alive and I'd still do my job, Chuck. God!"

"I know. I knoow, I'm an idiot. I know. I was weak, though. I'm sorry." Then he shook his head. "About my reasoning. I'm sorry for the stupid reason that I started this whole thing on Cartwright. I am. I was a jealous dumbass. But I would've stopped a long time ago if I didn't find something. And I found something."

Sarah was still too caught up in how much of a fool Chuck was to realize what he'd just said. "I mean, you're the one always calling me a bad ass and the best. You really think blue eyes are going to make me trust a guy blindly? I've got you, Chuck! I'm impervious to other men's charms. I know you still have some…self-esteem stuff. Everyone does. But this is me, Bartowski. It's us. If you don't think I'm a better detective than to let some guy in fitted suits play me like a fiddle just 'cause he's attractive, then at least think our relationship is stronger than that."

"You're right. You're absolutely right. And as hard as I try, I'm still gonna keep making blunders like this. I'm not saying you're just gonna have to deal with it, but um…Please…bear with me, I guess?" He winced.

Sarah sighed and closed the distance between them, moving up onto her toes to kiss him gently, ruffling his hair. "I have no choice. I love you, you big dumb nerd. And anyway, I'm not exactly perfect. You have a lot of shit you have to deal with where I'm concerned, too. So…"

"I'm sorry," he murmured.

"I know. I know you are. But please stop doing dangerous stuff like this. Please. You have no training and no experience. I'm a professional. It's even dangerous for me, let alone a couple of guys who watch movies and think that's prepared them for the reality of investigating work. You're going to get hurt. This isn't a game."

"I know it isn't a game! That's what I'm trying to tell you!"

"But you and Morgan went running around Los Angeles following this potentially dangerous guy in wigs and fake noses…"

"No, we didn't!" He paused. "We didn't wear wigs…"

She knew him too well not to read between the lines with that one. "Oh my God, did one of you have a fake nose? Oh my God, Chuck."

"That was all Morgan! He showed up with it and it was so funny I couldn't say no." He winced.

"Oh my God." She pushed a hand through her hair. "Like I said, this isn't a game!"

"I know it isn't a game! He's a con artist!"

"Yeah! He is! And—Wait." She blinked, what he said finally settling in her brain. "What? How do you—?"

"Because." He took the file and hustled into his bedroom with her hot on his heels, and then he set it down on his bed, whipping it open and digging through the reams of papers and photographs. "Ha! Here. Okay. Feast your eyes on this shit."

He started taking pictures out, spreading them on the bed for her to look at. It was the same bearded man in different suits, sometimes in a hat and tie, sometimes not, walking through LA, sitting with different men at different tables…

"That's him."

Sarah turned to gape at Chuck. "Holy shit. That's Cartwright?"

"Well, I'm not entirely sure if there is a Cartwright. Or if there is a real Cartwright, this isn't him. Beard Guy goes by Paul Lawson."

"What?" she breathed.

"He quote, represents, unquote, Cartwright."

"He's in a disguise," she murmured. "How didn't I see this? How wasn't I…looking for this? I trailed him often enough to catch him pulling this kind of creepy shit…I thought. How'd I miss it?"

"Because it's absolutely freaking bizarre, that's how. It was sheer luck I happened to see him walk out of his building where he lives. And I thought he was familiar-ish, and then I zoomed in with my camera and was like 'Holy shit, it's him!' Sheer dumb luck."

"I was watching him this whole week and I never saw this Lawson guy." She shook her head then, trying not to get bogged down by the threatening self-consciousness she was feeling. She tried not to slam herself for missing this. Chuck hadn't missed it, and now the evidence was right here in front of his face.

"Wait, he represents Cartwright? What in the hell?" She grabbed one of the photos of him sitting at an outdoor table with a shorter, older man.

"He's supposedly selling Cartwright's things for him. A boat, a yacht, a condo, a…"

"Property in Morocco," she breathed. "I know. I followed him to an office by the docks and found all of his paperwork for everything that's been getting sold. So he's putting on a disguise and…selling his own things?" She huffed and shook her head. "This isn't Cartwright."

"Do you even know if Cartwright is a real person?"

Sarah went to Chuck's laptop on his desk and opened it, typing in his password and immediately Googling the Cartwright family. "Look, the Cartwrights go back generations in South Africa, since before Apartheid, for decades upon decades. Robert is the last surviving Cartwright. It's a real family, and he's a real person. He has been running this business for almost ten years, after his parents' deaths. It's just that he's a recluse."

"But do you think he's sent this fake guy here to sell his things back in South Africa?"

"No, of course not. Why would he ever do that?"

"So, wouldn't he know if someone is stealing his things?"

"Not if he isn't alive to know about it."

"Holy shit." The blood seemed to have left Chuck's face as he slumped into his desk chair.

"I told you he was dangerous. There's a definite chance this guy stole Cartwright's identity. Who better than a recluse who's never left the African continent and doesn't let pictures of himself up online? Someone who isn't super respected in his own town, let alone in California on the other side of the world. Someone who didn't have family or any personal connections." She shut Chuck's laptop again. "Meanwhile, this guy is going out on the town, has women on his arm all the time, is making all of these business deals."

"He's not even South African, either."

Sarah frowned and crossed her arms, half sitting on his desk, facing him. "What?"

"This conman. Fake Robbie. Your ManFatale."

"My what? Excuse me?"

"Uh, nothing. But when he spoke to me, he definitely didn't have a South African accent. He was very American, so…"

"When he…spoke to you?" The meaning wasn't lost on her, and when his eyes widened with a very clear look of oops on his face, she felt anger and worry rise in her chest. "Chuck? Did you make contact with him? Besides when I was there, in my office?"

Chuck winced. He did. Oh God, he absolutely did.

"It was an accident. And he totally didn't know who I was! It was just a nonchalant, quick exchange. Almost nothing. He didn't even see my face!"

"Chuck!"

"I followed him into a shopping mall and sat out on a bench waiting for him while he bought a briefcase at Gucci." It came out in a quick stream of words that sounded like they were all connected.

"He bought a Gucci briefcase? Ugh. Gross."

"Right? He's an awful person!" She gave him a look and he cleared his throat. "Anyway, I was sitting out on that bench and since it was the closest one to the store entrance, when he came out he used the other side of my bench to take the tag off and stick his papers and stuff inside of it. He, uh, must've seen me glance to the side because he explained he had to look good for a job interview, but I didn't say anything." This was getting worse and worse. "I was disguised, too. I slicked down my hair like this." He pushed his hands over his curls so that they were pulled flat. "And I had thick glasses on, and I had a newspaper up like this, covering my face." He mimicked holding up a newspaper, slouching forward, a completely conspicuous look on his face.

"Oh my God, Chuck! He saw you!"

"Not my best detective moment. I'll admit it."

"No! Chuck, you…" She groaned. "What if he recognized you as Charles Bartowski? You were in my office! He might not know you're my boyfriend, or maybe he does, since we've had pictures of us together put in magazines and shit, which would make it even worse."

"He didn't seem like he recognized me. He didn't. If he did, he would've feigned his accent still!"

"Well, if he recognized you after the fact, maybe not! And you're talking about a guy who has potentially killed someone—we don't know if he has yet—to take their identity and live off their bank account across the world, and is successfully selling yachts and hotels… This isn't some novice, Chuck. If he recognized you, he isn't going to show it. He's going to log it away in his criminal brain, figure out why the hell you were there, in disguise, potentially following him, and he's going to take it out on me. Later. When I least expect it."

Chuck became even paler. "I put you in danger, didn't I?"

"I don't think so. I think he probably really didn't recognize you. Especially if he was in a hurry…" She put her hand in his hair and stroked it reassuringly.

"That's exactly the opposite of what I was trying to do. Why do I have to butt in all the time?"

"Because you're an idiot who loves me a whole lot." Then she gestured to the bed with a nod of her head. "And you actually did some pretty good detective work. As much as I hate that you did it, because I'd rather not lose you to some psychopath identity thief, as much as I hate that you dragged Morgan into danger with you…" He looked genuinely contrite at that. "It's good work."

A slow smile grew on his face. "Yeah?"

"Mhm. I mean, some of those pictures, you were really way too close. Which is…not smart." He winced. "But…" She pushed away from the desk and went over to look through all of their notes. It was a mess, true, and they seriously used that weird codename every single time they mentioned him, and maybe it was a little too thorough, since she really didn't need to know every time Fake Cartwright used a public restroom…but they'd gotten a lot of incriminating evidence. Combined with what she had, and the photos they'd taken of him in disguise, selling Cartwright's property to other people, she might have something she could take to the LAPD. "You two bozos collected a lot of useful things. Amidst a lot of, um, completely useless things."

Before she did anything else, she had another order of business to tend to. And she'd have to do it as soon as possible…tomorrow if she could get an appointment with him.

"Hey, there's one thing that's weird, though. And it's a big thing."

She glanced over as Chuck stood and crossed to her side. "What's that?" she asked.

"Why'd he hire you to look into Jerald Brown? What's Brown got to do with this?"

"I don't know for sure, but I'm wondering if Brown is onto him and he's figured that out, so he wants a way to discredit him, sully his reputation, his credibility."

"Ahhhh, riiiight. You find dirt on Brown, he can either use that to blackmail him, or he can be like 'You're gonna believe this guy? Look at this stuff he has in his closet!" Chuck paused. "Not literally his closet."

"Yeah, ya nerd. I got that."

"Right."

Sarah slumped onto the bed thoughtfully as Chuck sidled up next to her and stood there, like a pillar of strength, she thought. Her man who foolishly went into dangerous situations to help her with a case because he was jealous, but then staying in the hunt when he realized something was genuinely fishy. He'd gotten her quite a lead on this guy, whoever he was.

And she couldn't help being impressed, even if she was mad at him for being so rash, taking such a huge risk, and involving Morgan. Though she imagined it didn't take much work for Chuck to convince Morgan to help. A fake nose? Honestly, that guy was such a weirdo. She loved him, but he was crazy.

"What are you going to do now?" Chuck asked, breaking into her thoughts.

She peeked up at him for a split second, then rounded his hips with her arms and pulled him close, clinging to him and burying her face in his abdomen. His hand landed on her head and he stroked her hair in a way that was so reassuring she felt a sudden fire in her. Determination. Confidence.

"I'm calling Jerald Brown tomorrow to see if I can get a meeting with him."

"You don't think this con artist asshole will know you're meeting with the guy he's paying you to investigate? I mean, if he finds out, that will look bad."

"It will. If he finds out. I just have to make sure I cover my tracks. But I need to talk to Brown. I need to know what it is Not-Cartwright is going after him for. What is it he's got on him?" She sighed, snuggling her face against his cotton button-up adoringly. "Then I can go from there. Probably get the LAPD involved. I can't do that without hearing Brown's side of things."

"Not that you need my approval, since I'm only an amateur sleuth…" Sarah snorted at that and rolled her eyes, hugging him tighter. "But that's a fantastic idea."

"Thank you."

"Know what else is a fantastic idea?"

"What?"

"Letting go of me for just a few minutes while I change into my pa-yam-as, and then we can crawl into bed and you can hold onto me for as long as you want to."

She giggled and let go of him. "I concede, but with great reluctance."

He gave her a deep bow. "My Lady Bad Ass of the Shadows."

She laughed and she shamelessly watched her boyfriend undress, checking him out all the while. "The shadows?"

"You're a P.I. A detective. Slinking in the shadows like a ninja. Catching bad guys."

"Fair enough," she chuckled.

It only took a few minutes before they were wrapped up together in his bed, her arms around him, head on his chest. But then he reached over and grabbed his cell phone from the nightstand. She frowned in confusion, lifting her head to watch him as he put the phone to his ear.

She heard the ringing on the other line. It rang and rang and rang…and then she heard Morgan's jolly voice chirp about not being able to come to the phone. After the quiet beep, Chuck left his message.

"Leader Two. This is Leader One. Abort mission. We are going to abort mission. Black Canary has found the booty. I repeat, Black Canary has found the booty. Mission Codename: Wolf In Sheep's Clothing is successfully ended…"

Sarah cracked up and reached for the phone as Chuck yelped and tried to roll away from her reach.

"Black Canary is on the offense! Black Canary is attacking me! Leader Two, leave the country, change your name, shave the beard! Ahhh!"

Sarah grabbed the phone and hung up, laughing riotously as she tossed his phone back onto the nightstand and pinned him to the bed, kissing him. She wasn't exactly through being mad at him for his foolishness, for that idiotic jealousy that had made him put himself in a dangerous position. But he was here, he'd helped her case, and maybe the thoroughness of the details he'd recorded, the pictures he'd taken, were something of a turn on.

And she had no trouble convincing him.

XOXOXOXOXOXO

Sarah had found his file he'd built on Cartwright a day and a half ago, and in that time, the suspense had been building. She seemed calm enough, but Chuck was struggling to sit still as he tried to write a few emails, some minor housekeeping things. He couldn't even focus on that, though, and he got up to start pacing in his office.

Adisa knocked on the door and poked his head in, eventually. "Man, what is going on in here? You're pacing so hard, I can hear it through the door."

"Oh. Shit. Sorry." He turned to face his assistant and shrugged a bit lamely. "Are you trying to focus out there? I'll sit back down."

"No, no. I could focus in the middle of an erupting volcano. I'm just checking to make sure you're okay. I mean, is there anything I might be able to help with?"

Chuck stared at him for a moment, then sighed. "Nah, you have work to do that's a lot more important."

That earned him a flat look.

"It's not even anything that has to do with the company. Really, it's fine."

Adisa shrugged and stepped further into the room, crossing his arms.

"No, really," Chuck insisted. "You don't want to hear about this case Sarah's working on—"

"What?! Yes, I do!" He shut the door quickly and crossed the room. "Lay it on me! I'm a problem solver. You know I am. I can help."

The tech CEO was starting to see things from his P.I. girlfriend's perspective suddenly. People really did have an automatic reaction to her profession like they could do as good a job as she could, or better. Not just jumping to help, but thinking they could out-investigate, break down clues…when she'd been in the actual business, a Pinkerton agent for God's sake, for years.

He felt a bit sheepish. Maybe he'd reel himself back a bit, or apologize or something. And God, she was such a patient person to deal with him, and to a lesser extent, with Morgan.

"I can't give you too many details. But I'm just a little stressed. This guy she's dealing with is dangerous and she knows he's dangerous, even knows how dangerous, I mean…what he's capable of. And she's waited a few days, sitting on the information, without acting. I think she's trying to trap him, but she doesn't always tell me her plans and it's worrying me that she's in legitimate danger." He huffed.

"She was a Pinkerton agent, Boss. She knows what she's doing. We're talking about Sarah here—our Sarah—your Sarah," Adisa corrected himself, probably misunderstanding the look Chuck sent him. Honestly, it was cute he'd just called her 'our' Sarah, as though he had a genuine affection and connection with her. It was heartwarming. "You think she'd ever handle someone who is dangerous without being at least a few steps ahead?"

The tech guy chuckled. "You make a good point, there, buddy. And it isn't like I don't think she can handle herself. She already had to grill my ass because I underestimated her wiles once. Thought she'd missed a lot of stuff about him, but she hadn't. And she's playing him like a fiddle, but what if…I don't know, what if he's more cunning and observant than she even suspects? What if he's waiting for the perfect moment to get the drop on her?"

Adisa frowned. "Is he really that awful?"

"Stealing the identity of someone we suspect is dead, whether he killed him or not, we're not sure…I think he's pretty awful."

"Holy God."

"Yes."

"That is why you are pacing so loudly."

"It is." Chuck sighed, pushing his hand through his hair. "I'm just gonna call her and see if she's okay, actually."

"Well, don't go overboard, Boss. Or she'll start to get mad. It isn't my place, I know, but sometimes I think maybe you should��er…"

"I know. I'm overprotective of my girlfriend." He gave his assistant and friend a wan smile.

"She is a private investigator. I get it." Adisa shrugged.

"But I do need to dial it back. You're right. I'll just call her and say hi, that's all." That got him a flat look again. But Chuck was already calling her, bringing the phone to his ear.

It rang…and rang…and rang…It kept ringing. And then he finally heard the clicking sound on the other end, like she was answering it, and he breathed out in relief. But then he heard a gasp, a "No!" and then a loud crashing sound…and then nothing else…a dial tone…

"Something's happened!" he snapped, shoving his phone in his pocket and grabbing his suit jacket from the back of his chair, putting it on.

"What?" Adisa moved out of his way as he rushed out of his office and strode past Adisa's desk.

"There was a weird sound, I heard her, and then a crash and a dial tone."

"Don't talk to me, then! GO!" his assistant barked, and Chuck didn't have time to muse over Adisa's quick one-eighty…from telling him to dial it back to yelling at him to go.

He just needed Sarah to be okay.

XOXOXOXOXOXO

Sarah stared down at the file in her hand, sitting on her nonexistent assistant's desk, her legs crossed, a thoughtful look on her face. She had a secret meeting with Jerald Brown in a little over an hour and she needed to go through a lot more of the information she'd gathered over the last week before she did so.

She needed his side of the story. And when she told him over a secure line that she was a private investigator, and that it was about Robbie Cartwright, he'd gotten a tone she picked up on immediately. "Oh. Robbie," he'd said with a bitter clip. "I'm not sure I should be meeting with you, or even talking with you. I have—"

"Mr. Brown, I just want to get to the bottom of this. I need your side of the story. This man could be dangerous and he has it out for you for some reason. We need to meet. Somewhere that isn't your office or home, somewhere private and safe that he doesn't know about."

He'd finally relented.

And now she would be meeting him at his wife's personal office. He had a key, he said. And she was out of town for a week, visiting her parents in Oklahoma. Sarah slipped a few extra knives into secret places on her person just in case. And she'd be bringing her gun, too. She knew better than to trust Jerald Brown, just in case there was something extra twisted going on here and he was somehow involved.

She shifted to scoot further back on the desk to make herself more comfortable then, but her knee knocked into the file and the papers and pictures inside cascaded onto the floor. "Damn it, Walker…" she sighed, rolling her eyes as she watched it all slip and slide across the wood floors, some of the papers ending up on the other side of the room.

As she climbed off of the desk, leaning down to slowly start collecting the papers, she heard a muffled sound coming from her office. It took much too long for her to realize her phone was ringing in her purse. Chuck had played a joke on her the other night and he'd made her ringtone the theme from a movie called Body Heat or something—she'd so far managed to avoid having to watch it. But it was also a low, whining jazzy trumpet and it was harder to hear than her regular ringtone.

And now she was scrambling back into her own office to get to her phone in case it was something important.

She snagged it out of her purse, saw it was Chuck, and swiped to answer. But she swiped a little too hard and it went sailing out of her hand. "No!"

It hit the half-open drawer of her desk, then slammed into the floor at a weird angle, right on its corner. And Sarah I-Don't-Need-A-Phone-Case-Because-I'm-Not-A-Klutz Walker watched her phone crack right down the seam. "God…damn it!" she groused through her teeth, letting out a long, tired sigh, rolling her eyes, and kneeling down to pick it up.

The phone was broken. She'd be having to get a new one or hope Chuck could work some magic on this one. At least he could potentially get her data off for her, her pictures and everything.

Damn. She'd taken a cute one of Clara over the weekend and she didn't want that gone forever.

Setting the phone down on her desk, she pushed her hair out of her face and turned to stare out at the mess in the other room. At some point, she needed to pick that up.

And them she frowned a little down at the phone. Why was Chuck calling? He was supposed to be at work, still planning that huge conference of his…

Not that he didn't randomly call her during the day every so often when he needed to pull back from his work. She did the same thing from time to time. Out-flirting him over the phone for a few minutes in the middle of the day had become something of a habit, now. A habit she couldn't and didn't want to quit. Even as they approached their two year anniversary of that morning in Paris when they made their relationship official, she could still get him to stammer, the adorable dope.

It was not ten minutes later, as she plopped into her comfortable desk chair and kicked her heels off to put her feet on the desk and rest for a few minutes, that the door to her outer office burst open.

"Sarah! Oh my God! Sarah, are you here?!"

She lowered her feet with a thump and stood quickly, pushing her chair back. "Chuck, what is it?"

Just as she came around her desk, he appeared at the doorway to her private office, his hands slapping against the doorframe on either side of him. He looked incredibly frazzled, his hair a mess, the hem at the bottom of his suit jacket somehow caught up inside of the sleeve under his armpit, his eyes crazed with worry.

And then there was relief. Abject relief. "Sarah," he breathed, his eyelids fluttering.

He lunged at her then and she let him wrap her up in a tight hug. Almost a little too tight, she thought, still totally confused. But she hugged him back. "What is it?" she asked, rubbing his neck with one cool hand. "What happened?"

"I could ask you the same thing!" he rushed out, pulling back just enough to look into her eyes, cupping her jaw with one caring hand. "Are you okay?"

"Yes!" she exclaimed, furrowing her brow. "I-I'm fine! What's going on?"

"I was calling you 'cause—Er, well, I was gonna say hi. And you answered after it rang for a while, but then I heard you yell and there was a crash. With-With everything going on with this case of yours, I thought—"

Oh. Oh God, poor Chuck. "Goddd, Chuck. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to freak you out, you complete sweetheart." She giggled a bit, wincing as she stepped back. Almost unconsciously, she reached out and tugged at the suit jacket, pulling it down over his torso, not that he seemed to care, and then she snagged her phone off of the desk and showed it to him. "I was trying to answer it in time and I fumbled it. It cracked on the floor. Hence the yell. And the crash. It's broken, I think."

She gave him a lame, closed-mouth smile.

"Oh." He laughed a little and shook his head. "I maybe…overreacted."

"Hey. Listen. I welcome the overreaction, considering…um…whom I'm dealing with currently."

"Really?" he asked, eyes wide. "I-I guess I thought maybe…" He delicately took the phone from her fingers and started distractedly trying to fix it for her. And somehow that made her melt a little. How unconsciously he did things to make her life easier. Without her even having to ask. "With our conversation the other night. I sort of went overboard and, um, maybe made you think that I'm underestimating your capabilities as a detective. And I thought that might extend to this, protecting yourself I mean."

"Chuck, I'm never gonna get mad at you for caring. Of course you rushed over here to check on me after that. And with the fake Cartwright thing, I don't blame you. I'd do the same thing if I tried to call you and heard you yell on the line before it went dead." She put her hands on either side of his neck and moved up onto her tiptoes to peck his lips. "I'm sorry I worried you."

"Nah, it's okay. I'm just glad you aren't in the back of some van with tinted windows or curtains right now." He shivered dramatically and then there was a small click sound between them.

Sarah looked down and saw he'd managed to get the phone open. "Uh…Baby, I wanted you to fix it not break it all the way."

He chuckled. "I mean, I can maybe get it sticking together again, but see how gnarly this bit is? It's bent up," he said, running his pointer finger along where it had made contact with the hard floor. "I don't think it's gonna be working again."

Sarah let out a dramatic whine. "Damn it. I need that."

"It's okay. That's why I opened it. The card is fine. I can just put it in a new phone for you." Then he paused. "Um, also…just a minor thing. But is there, uh, any reason why your outer office looks like the scene of a kidnapping? 'Cause that didn't help me not think something had happened to you."

"Oh God, I'm so sorry." She chuckled. "I accidentally dropped a file I was looking through right before I dropped the phone. So…today's been…a day."

"Ah. That makes sense."

"I'm sorry I scared you so badly…" she said, a bit of a pout on her face as she sidled up to him and ran her hand down his tie, wrapping it up in her fist.

"It's okay," he chuckled, shaking his head. "As long as you're okay, that's all that matters. Also, this is good. I was kind of dying at work and now I'm here instead. Maybe we can have a post-lunch coffee? Or I can buy ya a cookie from down the street at that bakery you love so much."

She moaned a little, then moved in to wrap her arms around his shoulders and hug him. Part of her wanted to just wrap her legs around his waist and cling to him like a koala or something, just let him hold her for a while. This was shaping up to be one of those days where a lot of little frustrating things happened that not just soured your mood but made everything you were trying to get done that much harder.

"Is that a yes?" he asked, chuckling and rubbing her back comfortingly, almost like he could tell she was in a mood that needed that sort of thing.

"No," she said with a put-upon sigh. She pulled back and gave him a full on pout. "I can't. As much as I wish I could. I have to go meet with Jerald Brown in a few which is especially great now that I don't have a working phone."

Chuck froze in her arms. "Wait, what?"

"I got Brown to agree to meet me today. I've gotta leave in fifteen minutes to get there on time." She glanced at her watch. At least that wasn't broken.

"Wait, wait. Hold on. Brown? Jerald Brown? You are going to meet with him? Now?"

"In fifteen minutes, yes. What?"

"Nothin'. Nothin'. No, I was just…I didn't expect that. I mean, that's—Well, it's what you needed to do, to get this guy once and for all. Where, um, where you meeting him? At his office? On a bench in a very public place? Please don't say his home."

She giggled, finding his questioning as endearing as it was frustrating. But she knew when she was in this business, a dangerous business she had to admit, she couldn't exactly get him to stop caring, and by extension, to stop worrying. This was going to be a transition. She'd have to get used to it. For most of her career, she hadn't had that element in her life. Someone who legitimately cared about whether she came back home at night after a long day of working on a case. She had it now, with Chuck Bartowski, and it was incredibly precious to her.

He was incredibly precious to her.

"Not his home, no. Nor his office. Those are all places Fake Cartwright knows about. I told him it had to be someplace few people knew about. His wife runs a small, not very well-known Etsy shop because she makes, like, knitted things I guess. And she has a little office she rents in some office building near SoHo. Off of Melrose."

"You're meeting him alone?"

"We'll both be alone."

"And without a phone?"

"Chuuuuuck," she groaned, sliding her hands up and squeezing his shoulders. "Listen, bud. I love you. And I get you're worried. But there are a few things I've got on me that aren't broken that'll be much more helpful than a mere cellphone." He tilted his head in question. "My knives and gun. And my fists."

"Oh. Wow. That's rad."

She giggled, kissing his cheek. "You mind helping me clean up the mess in the other room? And then I should probably leave to beat traffic. Don't want to be late and have him leave, thinking I've stood him up."

"Right. Sure, sure…" He moved into the other room in front of her and knelt down to start scooping up the pictures and the notes and documents. She could feel his worry from across the room, though the adorable and maybe a little overprotective man was doing a good job of holding it in instead of harping on it to her yet again.

She just hoped his worries, and her own, were unfounded.

Especially because the broken phone really did present yet another element that would make her less safe in this situation. And her track record of doing stupid things today hadn't just been limited to those two dropping incidents. There was the coffee she'd spilled when she woke up this morning, nearly missing her new shoes. And then someone had run a red light and nearly T-boned her. If she hadn't been extra cautious in going when she had the green light, she definitely would've gotten it good instead of watching a truck speed past her within inches of the front of her car, her heart in her throat.

She wasn't about to tell Chuck any of that.

Instead, fifteen minutes later, she let him walk her to her car, open the door for her so that she could swing herself down behind the wheel, and he shut it for her again.

She rolled down her window and peered up at him as she started the car. "Hey. C'mere and kiss me." He leaned down with his arms perched on the door and he kissed her with a quiet hum. "What's that look on your face, huh?" she asked.

"Just a little worried, you not having a phone for this meeting. Why don't you just take mine?" He took it out of his pocket, wrapped in a case she noticed a bit glumly.

"I don't need your phone, Chuck. What if someone for your conference calls and it's super important but you can't do anything about it because I've got your phone?"

"They'll call Adisa." He shrugged. "That's what he's there for. Which reminds me: before I give you my phone, I should let him know you're okay. I screamed at him that something had happened to you and then ran outta there. He's probably freakin' out. Woops." He typed out a quick message. "There. Now take my phone."

"No. I'm not taking your phone. I'm fine, Baby. Really. I'll go directly to your apartment after this and you can help me fix my mangled little piece of crap smart phone then. How about that?"

"Sarah."

"Chuck."

He sighed heavily and dropped his forehead onto his folded arms. She reached up to stroke his curls and then leaned in to kiss his head.

"I love you. I have to go."

"Please be careful," he said, lifting his head and leaning in to kiss her again.

"I will be. I promise."

He stepped back as they said their 'see you laters' and she stayed there for a few moments, watching him walk to his own car that was parked nearby, before she finally pulled out from where she was parked at the curb, headed towards Mrs. Brown's Etsy office. Her nerves were on edge, so she was extra paranoid about looking for cars following her, but a few minutes into the drive, when she didn't get any alarm bells over any of the cars behind her, she settled down a bit more, turned on some music, and just drove, glancing in the rearview mirror every once in a while.

If she'd fed into the paranoia a bit more, she might've noticed the taxi a few cars behind her, slowly meandering along on her same path, and the other car off to the side, keeping within three or four cars' length of hers.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXO

"Mr. Brown. Thank you for meeting me today," she said as he offered her the comfortable chair across from his inside of his wife's cozy little office.

"Please. Jerald. And you're a private investigator, are you?" He eyed her, and she found it wasn't leering or even particularly off-putting. He was merely sizing her up. "I hope you don't mind my saying this, but you weren't what I expected when you called me and said you wanted to meet."

"Hm. I get that a lot."

He chuckled and shrugged. "So what is this? Why the secrecy?"

Sarah sucked in a deep breath and let it out. She'd decided when she made the call that she was going to have to be fully honest with Jerald Brown. She needed his full story, and she needed him to know why it was so important he provided it for her.

"Mr.—Jerald," she corrected herself, and he smirked, pushing the glasses he was wearing up his nose. "Robbie Cartwright contacted me almost two weeks ago and told me he wanted me to vet you." His smirk grew on his older face and he shook his head bitterly, a bit of anger in his eyes. "You don't look very surprised."

"Well, young lady, I'm not." Then he winced. "I'm sorry. 'Young lady' sounds very patronizing. You seem around my daughter's age and I like to imagine sometimes that she isn't quite so old as she's seeming to get." He shook his head, then gestured for her to continue.

She smiled politely, then nodded. "Are you doing business with Cartwright?"

"Well, you see…I had planned to. Back when he was still living in Cape Town." Sarah sat up a bit straighter, much more interested in what this man had to say suddenly. "I'd only been corresponding with him through email. He preferred that over phone calls. He was planning on putting some money in with Gridiron Technology—that's my company—" She nodded, already having known that, amongst a lot of other things now. "But he wanted to take a vacation and clear his head first. I said that was perfectly all right. There was no rush. And I didn't bother him. But when I didn't hear for a few months, I figured he had changed his mind after his vacation. I was going to give him a call just to confirm, and he showed up here in LA suddenly. He…called me. On the phone. And I was so shocked by it that I didn't ask why. He told me he wanted to make a proposition. He'd found some information on Gridiron and thought it might be interesting to build an investment there, get his foot in the tech industry door, so to speak…"

Sarah frowned. "So he decided to accept your business arrangement after all."

"Yes. But the way he spoke to me about it, he made it seem as though we'd never discussed it before. That on top of the fact that he'd called instead of emailing, made me a bit…well…"

When he squirmed in his seat, Sarah leaned in. "Dubious?"

"Hm. Precisely. When we met face to face, he was…different from what I'd come to expect from emailing with him for a month or so." He stretched his arms out. "I was perfectly content doing business in the way he wanted to—remotely, with me in LA and Cartwright in Cape Town. Killer time difference, but emailing back and forth meant that didn't matter much."

"Jerald, did you talk to Cartwright about your misgivings?" she asked. "I-I mean, once he came here, to Los Angeles."

"Oh, no. My wife advised me not to. Instead, she said, don't alert him. Just keep talking to him about the investment in Gridiron and see what happened. But, well…I'm not the best actor. And the man I emailed with seems so…different, contrary to what I've experienced the few times I met him in person here."

"How so?"

"More outgoing. Verging on wild. There was an event we were both invited to, about three and a half weeks ago. He danced almost the entire time, drank…" He shifted forward in his seat. "Wait, you say he hired you?"

Suspicion laced his features then and she held up a hand to reassure him. "I've been vetting him instead of you for the past two weeks, sir. I'll be honest with you, I've done quite a bit of digging into your business, your personal life…"

"Comforting. What did you find?" He was almost bristling now.

"Nothing." He blinked. "The deeper I dug, the more obvious it was to me that you're on the up and up, so to speak. And every time I met with Mr. Cartwright to provide an update, I had nothing of note to give him, and he seemed…upset by that. He told me he just wanted to make sure he was going into business with someone honest. But it became more and more apparent that he wanted me to find something on you, something he could use. For what, I wasn't sure. And that's why I wanted to meet with you. I don't know why he's targeting you by hiring a P.I. to look into you. But I figured you would know. Or you might have an idea."

"I must not be a very good actor. That's the only thing I could imagine. That I'm not…enthralled with him."

"More likely, sir, it's that you aren't falling for his act." He furrowed his bushy brow and frowned. "I think he isn't Cartwright. Especially since you're saying you emailed about that business of yours before he came here, when he was still in Cape Town. And that he seemed not to know about it—or rather, not to remember—and struck up talks of investing again. That is because this guy most likely doesn't know you talked to the real Cartwright months ago."

The man was shaking in his wife's chair, and he covered his mouth with his hand. "You're saying this—this man is an imposter…?"

"Yes. Jerald, I'm almost certain the man who hired me is not Robert Cartwright."

Brown shook his head slowly, and then he swallowed loud enough for her to hear. "You know, I was afraid—I was getting suspicious, at least, that there was something fishy with him. Everyone else seemed to be falling for his charms, but that business about the emails and him suddenly showing up and being so different…" He ran his hand down his tie. "Have you contacted the authorities? Both here and in Cape Town. If he's pretending to be Cartwright here, where's the actual Cartwright? Back home in Cape Town, not knowing someone is impersonating him?"

"My fear is that he's dead." Brown went pale and sat back against his chair heavily.

"D-Did this man kill him?"

"I don't know. But Cartwright took a trip in one of his boats…and all of a sudden he was here in Los Angeles, buying a huge condo downtown, cars, other toys…running his business into the ground, and…here's the kicker, selling his own Cape Town property to unwitting buyers."

"He's selling Cartwright's property?" Brown asked, sitting forward again, anger in his eyes. "Listen, I wasn't particularly fond of Robert Cartwright. He seemed very…standoffish, hard to get along with, hard in general. And that was just in the emails we exchanged. But he did genuinely good things with his money and I was eager to work with him. To think someone could…" He murmured a swear and looked her in the eye. "What do you plan to do, Miss Walker?"

She raised her eyebrows. "Now that I've gotten more evidence from you, I'll be needing to go to the authorities. I have a contact at the LAPD. At least I'm pretty sure I know why I was hired to get dirt on you. You're dangerous to this con he's pulling. Very dangerous."

"You mean he thought you might find something incriminating that he could use to shut me up if I tried to do something about my suspicions…?"

"Exactly."

"Well, at least he hired the right person." He cleared his throat and shrugged. "Right for me, at least. And just…right in general. On the right side."

"I try to be, sir. None of this was sitting well with me. I've managed to drag it out for a while as I've picked up more information on this imposter." Fake Cartwright had been almost restless during the meeting before their last, so Sarah had made a point in the next meeting, yesterday's meeting in fact, to come in with something he might be able to use. A misdemeanor she'd drummed up out of nothing, forged papers that looked convincing enough she thought. It would buy her time if she promised to follow the lead and come back with more, which she had.

And now she could go right to Casey's doorstep, her evidence and a witness in hand, and they could take this son of a bitch down together.

"You might need to come with me to the LAPD, Mr. Brown. They'll want to question you about everything."

"Of course. You can…guarantee my safety, can't you?"

Before she could answer, there was a splintering boom behind her, and as she spun in her chair, she saw the man who'd hired her had kicked the door in and was standing there, a gun pointed at the both of them.

"No, Jerry," he murmured. "No, she can't."

[ineffably-good]

London Calling (3/4)

Read on AO3

Summary: Crowley takes Frederick the snake to the zoo and Aziraphale witnesses an unexpected miracle. 

Part 8 of the Serpent and the Seagull series, which you can find here. 

_______

The texts began to arrive almost immediately.

Crowley, is everything all right?”

Crowley held up a finger to the officious gentleman across the desk who was asking him some rather pointed questions. “I’m sorry, I just have to answer this – it’s my partner.”

I can explain. But not right now. Need a few minutes.

Are you in trouble?

No, no, just taking care of something. Home soon. Is Frederick ok? 

Yes. Crowley, what is going on???

“Sorry,” he said to the man across the desk, “but as you can see I do not have a snake with me and I don’t know anything about how one of your prized – what was it? – yellow bird thingies came to be missing. I just happened across the snake right before the two children did, and it must’ve gotten spooked in the uproar and found a place to hide.”

“That’s interesting,” the man said, turning his laptop to face Crowley, “because we have video footage of you in several locations today where you appear to be holding a snake that meets the same description.”

Crowley examined the screen where there were a variety of crisp, clear shots of him and Freddy, face on. The lighting was excellent and it was them, clear as day.

“Oh, now, that could be anyone,” he said dismissively, “you definitely can’t say for sure that that’s me.”

The man frowned at him. “It’s quite obviously you. Are you saying you weren’t involved in a riot in the great apes enclosure earlier this morning?”

Crowley schooled his face in the epitome of innocence. “I certainly was not! This is harassment. Also, are you really certain that the bird is missing? I mean, have you done a thorough beak count? Must take a while…”  

His phone binged, then binged again, then binged several more times. He sighed and ignored it for the moment. 

The administrator handed him back the zoo membership card that he’d scavenged out of thin air a few minutes earlier, which somehow had come up linked to Aziraphale’s <i>actual</i> lifetime membership account. He turned the laptop back towards himself, typed in a few keystrokes, and then hit enter decisively.

“Your zoo membership has been terminated, immediately. If you are ever noted here again, we will take legal action. And you can be expecting to hear from our lawyers about compensation for damages.”

“Well that seems unnecessarily harsh,” Crowley said. “And now if you don’t mind, I’ll be going.”

He stalked out of the office, doing the best to keep his dignity intact as the administrator continued to glare at him. He waved a hand behind him to muddle the administrator’s plans about compensation. He certainly wasn’t letting his angel get a large bill for a bird, or for emotional trauma to a bunch of primates. Aziraphale would discorporate.  

His phone binged several more times on the way to the car.

On my way home, he texted. Hang on. 

Love you, he added a moment later, just to be safe.

 ++

Aziraphale was anxiously waiting for him when he came in the front door about an hour later.

“Well,” Crowley said huffily as he stalked into the shop. “We aren’t going to the London Zoo ever again.”

Aziraphale watched as Crowley took a moment to empty one pocket of his keys and ran a hand through his already-rumpled hair.  

“And why is that?” the angel finally asked, when no more information seemed to be forthcoming.

Crowley whirled to face him. “Because we aren’t allowed!” he cried. “Can you believe that? They banned us. Banned you too. Whole lifetime membership, just gone. Poof.”

Aziraphale frowned. “May I ask why?”

“Oh, you know,” Crowley said vaguely. “Shenanigans.”  He looked around. “How is Frederick?”

“Rather full,” Aziraphale said dryly. “And sleepy. I don’t think he appreciated getting transferred over here mid-meal.”

“He’s lucky that’s all he got,” Crowley said. “Wine? I need wine.” Aziraphale nodded, and the demon went to the kitchen and came back with a bottle and two glasses.

“So,” Aziraphale said, sitting down and folding his hands in his lap in a show of patience, “I’d rather like to hear the whole story.”

Crowley sank down into the couch, his body bent in ways that didn’t seem either natural or comfortable.  “The day started well! He liked the otters, and the penguins, and he was really confused by the elephants. We had a bit of a problem in the gorilla exhibit – forgot they were deathly afraid of snakes, almost caused a riot when they noticed him.”

Aziraphale widened his eyes. “Oh my.”

“And then I made the mistake of taking him in the tropical bird house.”

“Really, my dear, do you think that was a good decision?” Aziraphale asked sharply.

“Well in retrospect, clearly not, but I thought I could keep a handle on him.” He paused and cleared his throat nervously. “He, uh, got away from me while I was looking at plants.”

Aziraphale nods. “Ah.”

The word ah, said correctly, could speak volumes, Crowley thought. Funny how one little syllable could convey so much disapproval, or disappointment, or dismay.  All the dis- words, he thought forlornly. There weren’t any good ones that he could think of, when they were pointed his way.

“And… well, you know the rest,” he said, resigned. “He helped himself to a snack.  Ate a bird, tiny really – you’d never miss it. Except it turns out they’re considered vulnerable, this particular bird, and they’ve been breeding them special and sending them out to zoos to live out their stupid little lives in a protected environment and it’s not such a good thing when you bring your pet snake in and let them eat one.” He looked up beseechingly at Aziraphale with his best don’t-be-mad expression. “I mean, how was I supposed to know that?”

Aziraphale stared at him, dumbfounded. “I would think,” he said rather hotly, “that any reasonable adult might intuit that from the available information.”

“When have I ever claimed to be a reasonable adult?”

Aziraphale cocked one side of his mouth up in amusement, but still looked rather cross.

“And it would’ve just blown over,” Crowley continued, “but this pair of kids showed up with their mom and saw what was happening, and the mom started screaming and suddenly there were guards and everything just went south fast.”

“So,” Aziraphale said, “you’re saying it all would’ve been fine if it weren’t for those meddling kids.”

“Pretty much,” Crowley agreed.

Aziraphale waited a beat to contemplate that.

“How” he said exasperatedly, “can someone so smart be so -- ?”

He gestured helplessly at Crowley, unable to find the right word.  

Crowley tried to figure out if he was supposed to fill in the adjective here, and decided he was not.

“Yeah, I’m aware,” he said, glumly. “So, how mad are you?”

“Not much,” Aziraphale said, aware that he probably should be moreso. “Frustrated, yes, and a bit annoyed about the membership – I like the zoo! I have a bench named after me there! -- but mostly I’m just relieved that it wasn’t worse. And I’m glad you got him home safely. Still, I’m not sure all these outings are a good idea, anymore.”

Crowley slumped back, exhausted. “I never thought I’d say this, but Frederick could put a demon to shame on the mischief scale. It’s impressive! How does so much chaos live in such a tiny little body? And how on earth did we manage to acquire the most poorly-behaved snake on the planet?”

“Oh, I’m mostly responsible for that,” Aziraphale said with a smile, thinking back on the pet shop. “They kept showing me sweet, lovely, docile little snakes when I was looking for my companion. One or two of them were quite spectacular! But I don’t know -- they just didn’t feel right. No one sparked with me until they brought this surly little monster out.”

“Something more interesting,” Crowley said.

“Yeah,” Aziraphale agreed. “He actually bit me when I first handled him! But then he looked so sorry and ashamed. I could tell he didn’t truly mean any harm. My heart just melted.”

“Reminded you of someone?”

Aziraphale gave him a bright and shining grin. “I don’t know what you could mean.”

“Liar,” Crowley said softly, smiling.

“Let’s get dinner,” Aziraphale said, standing up and holding out a hand, “and then we’ll have a talk with Frederick about boundaries and behavior.”

“There’s really no point trying to parent him, angel,” Crowley said. “He’s a snake.”

“He’s a young snake,” Aziraphale corrected, “and not an ordinary one. I think he’s therefore prone to some angelic influence.”

“Good luck with that,” Crowley said, before taking the offered hand. “Certainly couldn’t go any worse than our attempts to influence the antichrist.”

The angel cast one last look around the shop and then they stepped out into the late afternoon chill to find a cozy dinner spot.

  In his cage, Frederick dug down into his bedding and prepared to sleep, after having eavesdropped on most of that conversation. If they thought they were going to tame him, he thought, they had a rude awakening coming. Never mind that he loved nothing quite as much as curling up with his fluffy owner’s pocket and being read to and hand fed snacks – he was a force of nature, wild and free. He drifted off to sleep full of ideas about ruling over the gorillas of the zoo, who would tremble before him and bring him delectable morsels in tribute, all to please and calm their vengeful snake overlord.

It was the most lovely dream he’d ever had. 

[averagemarvelbitch]

The One Where Steve Proposes (Or Not)

Summary: Someone takes a picture of Steve and posts it on Instagram. The group chat goes nuts, Clint is way too emotional about all this and things are not exactly as they seem. Don’t trust what you see on the internet, that’s the first rule!

Tags: Stony, brief mention of Bruce/Thor

Chapters: 2/2

AO3

If you like it, leave a comment or send an ask!

---

Steve was sitting in his living room, staring at the black screen on his TV, his left hand covering his mouth and a part of his nose as he analyzed the entire evening yet again. Tony seemed fine before they went to the restaurant. He smiled when Steve complimented him and seemed very excited to go to Mario’s. He was fine at the restaurant too, but, now that Steve really thought about it, he seemed a bit anxious by the time dessert came. But, honestly? Tony was always anxious. From the moment Steve had met him, his mind never stopped working. So the fact that he was a bit fidgety wasn’t really too out of character for him.

And then, there was the watch. After he opened the little black box and saw the watch, everything seemed to change. Steve couldn’t understand. Tony loved that watch. And he knew his boyfriend had been really upset when the watch was destroyed in a fight with the Wrecking Crew. He really thought Tony would be happy to have one just like it. Of course, it wasn’t the exact same watch, but it was something, right? Steve had gone through a lot of trouble to get him that gift. Even paid a little fortune ― more than he was ever comfortable spending on anything, to be completely honest ― just to put a smile on his partner’s face. He couldn’t understand why Tony didn’t like it. Better yet, he couldn’t understand why Tony didn’t tell him why he didn’t like it.

Steve had to admit, that hurt a bit. They hadn’t started their relationship in the best way, but they had been together for two years now. He really thought they had reached a point in their relationship where they could be completely honest with each other. But apparently not, Steve thought, frustrated. He needed to talk to Tony. Find out what exactly had caused such a strong reaction, so they could work on it. Yes, that’s what I’m going to do. He was getting ready to get up and go straight to the workshop when the elevator doors opened and the rest of the Avengers stepped out, all smiling.

“Heeeeeeeeeey. Where’s Mr. Rogers?”

Steve looked at Clint, confused. “I’m… Right here?”

“Not you, American dream. The other Mr. Rogers”.

“We told him you two might want some privacy to celebrate, but he couldn’t be stopped”, Natasha explained, sitting down on the couch, “So, where’s your other half?”

“He’s at the workshop. I’m sorry, celebrate what exactly? What are you guys talking about?”

Natasha narrowed her eyes, looking at Steve like she disapproved of all of his life choices.

“You’re not kidding. Steve, what was in the little black box you had?”

“A watch”, he explained, still confused with the whole thing, “Remember, Tony was really upset over losing his watch on that fight with the Wrecking Crew, and the company didn’t make those anymore, so I pulled a few strings and I got him one. An exact replica. I thought he would be happy, but apparently not”, he finished in a bitter tone.

Everybody was silent. They looked at each other, unmistakable guilt in their eyes.

“Oh, this is bad”, Bruce broke the silence, shaking his head.

“I do not understand. I thought the Midgardian custom was to present your beloved with a ring, not a watch”.

“It is, Thor. Steve didn’t propose”.

This time, Steve looked absolutely horrified. “WHAT? You thought I was going to propose?”

“Well, yeah”, Clint replied, instantly defensive, “I mean, you’ve been together for two years, pretty much ever since you got defrosted like an overgrown chicken on steroids, and you always talk about how you’re going to spend the rest of your lives together. It was a safe assumption”.

“Why would I propose? It’s not like we can actually get married”.

“Why the hell not?”

“Because we’re both men, Clint”, Steve explained like he was talking to a five year old.

“Rogers, please tell me you don’t actually believe same sex marriage is illegal”.

Steve just stared at Natasha.

“ARE YOU KIDDING ME? You’ve been in this century for two years and a half and NO ONE told you that you can get married now?”

“We… We can get married?” Steve asked in a soft whisper.

“JARVIS, please show him”, Bruce asked with a small smile.

Suddenly, many windows appeared out of thin air, all around Steve. News about the LGBTQ+ pride parade, about the legalization of same sex marriage in many places, even pictures and videos of said marriages.

“We can get married. Holy shit, I can propose to Tony?”

“That’s what we thought was happening today. Actually, that’s what Tony thought was happening today”.

Steve’s smile disappeared, giving place to a horrified look.

“Tony thought I was proposing. He thought I was giving him a ring and it was just a stupid watch”.

“I’m sure it was a very mighty watch, nevertheless, my friend”, Thor spoke, slapping Steve in the back in solidarity.

The captain stood up, a determined look on his face, “I’m going to propose to Tony”.

“YES! HE’S GONNA PROPOSE TO TONY”.

“Yes, Clint, we heard, we’re right here”, Natasha replied, rolling her eyes. She turned to Steve, “How are you going to do it?”

He looked down for a moment, thinking. Then, he smiled. “I’m going to need your help”.

---

Tony had a terrible night. After not so subtly running away from Steve after their date, he locked himself in his workshop and stayed there for hours, just sitting on the couch, eating a bag of M&Ms while thinking of all the reasons why Steve wouldn’t want to marry him. Too old, too stubborn, too difficult, too narcissistic, workaholic; the words swirled inside his head, making his insides twist with grief. He knew the kind of man he was. And he was very much aware of how bad he was. And Steve, well, Steve was good. He was the best man Tony had ever met. He deserved better. And maybe he knew that too.

Sometimes, during his downward spiral, he had brief moments of lucidity when his brain would actually function properly. Steve loves me, he would think to himself, taking a deep breath, trying to calm himself, I wasn’t even thinking about getting married before Thor and the others told me about the proposal. We don’t have to get married right now. Maybe Steve does want to marry me, he’s just not ready for it right now. The words kept getting stronger and stronger inside his mind, shutting down the terrible thoughts that had threatened to engulf him before. By the time the bag of M&Ms was empty, Tony was already feeling better and decided to apologize to Steve the next day.

As it turned out, he didn’t quite have a chance to talk to Steve the next morning. He was woken up by a call from Pepper, telling him he was needed at the R&D department immediately and that Happy was already waiting outside for him. He quickly got dressed and sent a text to Steve from the car.

Emergency at SI. Lunch?

The answer came as soon as he sent it.

Can’t. I’ll see you tonight. Love you.

He smiled and sent Steve back a heart, drinking his coffee ― thank God Happy had been smart enough to stop at a coffee shop ― and thinking of how exactly he was going to explain himself to Steve later.

---

It was almost 7 PM when Tony finally got back home. He had spent the entire day putting out fires ― sometimes literally ― and, every time he thought he was done, Pepper would show up with something to sign or a problem to solve. He was tired. He was hungry. He wanted a hot shower, some food, and a bed ― preferably with 180 pounds of prime American beef right on top of him.

He was so tired he almost didn’t see the post-it stuck on the elevator doors. He frowned at the small, yellow piece of paper before taking it.

Penthouse. I’m waiting.

- SR

Curious, he got into the elevator and asked JARVIS to take him to the penthouse.

“Is Steve up to something, J?”

“I believe the Captain has prepared something special for you, sir. You’ll see”.

Soon, the elevator doors opened. Tony looked around, eyes wide and mouth hanging open. The entire floor was covered in flowers. White, red, pink roses. Everywhere he looked. And right in the center of the room was Steve, wearing a suit and looking more nervous than Tony had ever seen him look.

“What’s all this?”, he asked, walking towards his partner.

“I’m sorry for making you wait”.

Tony was confused. “Wait for what?”

“Tony. I came into this century with nothing. No home, no family, no hope. I was bitter, depressed, angry at everything and everyone. And I didn’t think I would ever fit in here, that this was my punishment: living in a world I fought so hard to save, but never truly being a part of it. I’d accepted my fate like a dying soldier accepts his defeat. Until you.”

Steve took a step closer and softly touched Tony’s face, a small smile on his lips.

“I’m not going to lie, it was not love at first sight”, he said, making Tony laugh, the tears in the corner of his eyes threatening to spill, “But now I see, sweetheart, it would’ve been impossible for me not to fall in love with you. You’re amazing, Tony. You gave me the chance to be the man I’ve always wanted to be. You showed me happiness like I had never felt before in my entire life. You accepted my past and made me look forward to the future. You made me feel like I belong in this world. I can’t imagine my life without you. So…”

In that moment, Steve went down on one knee, taking a small black box from his jacket and opening it to show a simple, silver ring. The brunette stood there, completely paralyzed, brown eyes staring into blue ones full of love and hope.

“Tony Stark, will you marry me?”

“Yes”, he whispered, with a smile so big it hurt his cheeks, “yes, I’ll marry you”.

Steve smiled as he put the ring on his boyfriend’s ― no, fiancé’s ― finger, quickly getting up and pulling Tony into a deep kiss.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, Captain, Mr. Stark. I would like to offer my congratulations and pass along a message from Mr. Barton. He would like to know if they can come in because he and the other Avengers are, and I quote, “dying out here”.

The newly engaged couple laughed and authorized Jarvis to open the elevator doors. Immediately, Clint jumped out.

“YEAH, WE’RE PLANNING A WEDDING, BABY”

“Congratulations, Tony, Steve”, said Bruce, hugging his ‘science bro’, as Tony had dubbed them.

“Congratulations, my friends! There is no happier occasion than when two mighty warriors decide to share not only the battlefield, but also their lives”, Thor offered, almost taking Steve off the ground with his hug.

“Thanks, you guys. For everything”.

“Okay, I just ordered a shit ton of food, Pepper is on her way with Happy and Rhodey and we are going to CELEBRATE”.

“I really think they would rather celebrate alone, Clint”, Natasha informed her friend while hugging and congratulating Tony.

“Don’t worry. We’ll have plenty of time to celebrate just the two of us later, right?” Tony said suggestively to his fiancé.

“So gross. I’m so happy for you guys. We’re just missing one tiny little thing”.

“Yeah?”, Steve asked, laughing, “What’s that?”

[prettywitchiusaka]

FMA One-shot: Soft Spot

Well would you look at that, I managed to clean up and pump out another Royai one-shot I’ve had sitting on my computer for quite sometime now. YAY!!!

And what do you know! It’s the one that will most likely make me loose all of my subscribers!...Yay!?

Oh geez, I don’t know. Feel free to decide for yourself and let me know what you think. Enjoy!

Soft Spot

by Prettywitchiusaka

Roy Mustang let out a yawn as he rubbed his temples with his fingers. It hadn't been easy sleeping upright in an uncomfortable vehicle chair for the entire night, but he managed it somehow. The scenery didn't help either, nothing but dirt road and blue sky for his piercing obsidian eyes to focus on.

He let out a sigh.

"How did it get to this?" he thought to himself.

A few days ago, he received a call from Furhur Bradley, asking him to deliver a huge supply of rations to the eastern jungle village of Zambia. Having been told the situation, Roy immediately accepted the assignment without any further questions.

After all, he wasn't just a Colonel in charge of the military's Eastern Division, he was also the Flame Alchemist, a personal servant of the Furhur, himself. And since whatever Bradley requested was legally binding, Roy began asking when he could expect the rations. Whatever it took to climb up the ranks and become the next Furhur, provided it wasn't too corrupt.

Once the supplies had been delivered from Central to his little neck of the woods, Roy and his military unit began the long, two day trek through the eastern jungle to reach Zambia.

It wasn't the easiest trip, what with everybody complaining about how hot it was. But once the sun went down and they set up camp for the night, the group just sat around and played a few rounds of poker. Roy even managed to win a few rounds, cleaning out his friend, Jean Havoc in the process…At least until he got cleaned out by another man in the group named Vato Falman.

Yes, everything was going great until they were ambushed by some men claiming to be from Zambia, much to Roy's irritation.

It was times like this he wished his First Lieutenant, Riza Hawkeye was here; she always knew how to keep him calm and focused on his objective.

It was really a shame she wasn't here, right now. Though not because the Lieutenant decided to sit out this mission.

Despite having made quick work of some of the men with her gun prowess, one of the goons was smart enough to sneak up behind her and hit her on the head, knocking her unconscious.

Before Roy could do anything about it, the men had jumped into their own vehicle and drove away, taking her with them. All they left was a note from their boss, Zarman; the leader of Zambia. All it said was "Mr. Mustang, I would like to see you in Zambia by tomorrow morning. You do want your Lieutenant back, don't you?"

Wasting no time, the Colonel and the rest of his team hopped into the military Tumblr and began driving towards Zambia, taking turns between the five of them the entire night. And it certainly helped because by ten-thirty the following morning, they were only an hour outside Zambia.

Pretty soon they would get to see their friend and co-worker, again. But if Roy was being honest with himself, he wasn't too worried about Riza.

Sure, he was concerned for his trusted friend and bodyguard. But at the same time, he knew that Riza Hawkeye was not a stupid woman. She wouldn't be dumb enough to provoke her

captors or identify with them like the women in those crappy romance novels she read. If he knew Riza, and by now he was pretty confident in thinking he did, than she'd be playing it safe. She would've been choosing her words carefully, waiting patiently for them to come rescue her.

Yes, if he knew Riza as well as she knew him, than she was probably fine.

Besides, it was more at what he might have to do when they get there that was currently occupying his thoughts as opposed to the Lieutenant's safety. Better to think over the negotiations and how to make them go over smoothly as opposed to going in unprepared, he thought.

But just because the Colonel wasn't voicing his concern for his friend, didn't mean that the rest of his men weren't going to. Probably the most vocal was his young Master Sergeant, Kain Feury.

"I sure hope she's okay," he said out loud.

Not that Roy could really blame him for thinking that; Kain was a good friend of Riza's, and he knew she loved him like a little brother. Of course he would be wondering, even praying that she'd still be in one piece when they got there.

Mind you, that wasn't the only reason he was worried for her, but it was understandable. They were all feeling it.

But much like him, though, his Second Lieutenant Hayman Breda was trying to keep his cool. So, he gave Feury a little slap on the back.

"Ah, you worry too much, Feury," said the overweight man. "Lieutenant Hawkeye's fine, I'm sure of it."

"I hope so," said Vato Falman. "The Zambian ruler is known to be pretty ruthless. If he had the guts to take a military officer, he's either ambitious or in over his head."

While he held the rank of Warrant Officer, Vato had once been part of the military's investigations department. He was good at keeping his nose to the ground and picking up on information, the main reason his friend Maes Hughes had initially hired him. So much so, he used to joke about how he was a walking encyclopedia. But as far as Roy was concerned, that wasn't far off from the truth.

Especially since Vato's assumption wasn't wrong.

Yes, the Zambians were a fairly small town in the jungle, living off the land and water situated in their neck of the woods. But their chief Zarman was known to be a very tyrannical, even violent man. With his own gorilla force, he would gladly take and steal from anyone who came close to their home, be they friend or foe, man or women. No even military personnel were safe from his wrath.

That thought had been on Roy's mind since the night before, but that's not even what really concerned him. He knew he and his men could take Zarman and his army if they tried anything against them, especially if he used his flame alchemy. It's just that he'd rather avoid doing any harm towards Zarman if he could avoid it.

These people were still pretty primitive, after all.

While Zambians did have their own set of armed artillery (mostly stolen from their victims), they were still a very low tech society. They harvested their crops like farmers, their irrigation system was wheel based, and aside from the few Zambian alchemists Roy knew back in Central, most Zambians thought of alchemy as either magic or sorcery.

In a way, they reminded him an awful lot of the Ishbalans. And the last thing the Colonel wanted was another massacre; bodies injured, people screaming in agony. Honestly, if he had to actually incinerate someone using alchemy, he wasn't sure if he could-

"Hey, Chief?" Snapping out of his thoughts, Roy turned to face his other Second Lieutenant, Jean Havoc. He was driving the car and smoking a cigarette. "You okay?"

Roy was silent for a moment before turning his head away from his friend. "Yeah, I'm fine," he said. "Just thinking."

Havoc smirked when he heard that; like he really didn't know what was troubling his friend and Colonel. "You think the Lieutenant's okay?"

"Hawkeye should be fine," the Colonel replied. "She's been in situations like this before, she knows how to play it safe. But that's not what's bothering me."

"Then what is it?" Jean asked. It was only when his eyes caught sight of the ignition glove on Roy's right hand did he get it. "Oh, right."

Jean focused his gaze back on the road, deciding it was best not to push the issue further. He'd always heard the stories of Roy's time in the Ishbalan uprising, how he'd been dubbed the "hero" of that war despite all the shady stuff that went down there. But as much as he'd like to ask, he knew his boss didn't like talking about it so he never bothered.

Heck, Riza had been there too and she never talked about it, either. So he could only imagine what it must have been like out there.

…

Half an hour later, the Colonel and his men arrived outside of the village. As soon as they came to the reinforced gate surrounding the village, the group found a small band of burly black men standing there waiting to greet them, all of them armed with riffles on their backs. Some of them even had grenades hanging from their belts.

Of particular note was the man in the center.

He was wearing a ripped red shirt that showed off his built torso, and blue jeans with tanned sandals. A red bandana adorned his bald head, and a gun holster was hanging off to the side of his left hip.

There was no question in Roy's mind; this man was Zarman. The man in charge of this small civilization, the man holding his Lieutenant captive.

Once they were out of the car and armed, the Colonel placed his right hand in his pocket and turned to his team.

"Keep your rifles off to the side at all times," he whispered. "Only fire on them if they attack first, got it?"

"Yes, Sir," the group whispered while saluting their superior.

The group walked silently towards the small band of men, making Zarman happy as he walked over to greet them.

"Ah, you must be Mr. Mustang. I'm so pleased to finally meet you."

"Likewise," Roy replied.

Smiling at the military officer, Zarman held out his hand so they could shake. But Roy never took it. He just bore his angry gaze into Zarman's, much to his surprise.

"I see…," he said. Placing his hand off to the side, Zarman continued smiling at the Flame Alchemist. "I see you have brought our supplies, thank you. Come, I'll show you where you can drop it off and you can be on your way-"

"Not yet!" Roy said. "I believe your men have kidnapped one of my subordinates."

"Subordinate?…" Zarman asked. All while tapping his finger on his chin, as if he didn't know what the Colonel was referring to. "Oh yes, that woman that was with you. We'll take care of that now."

With the clap of his hands, a tall burly man came out of nowhere, walking a stoic Riza Hawkeye by the arm. Her hands had been tied up using ropes, but aside from that she was fine. She looked as every bit the stern and no nonsense soldier she always did.

Seeing that made Roy's men breathe a collective relief, but not him; he'd been right to assume she'd be okay. Which could only mean one thing.

"You see, Mr. Mustang; my men haven't hurt her in the slightest," replied Zarman.

"Of course they haven't; it's not exactly smart to waste your hostage. Especially if you want to make a trade of some sort," Roy remarked.

"That's what I said," Riza muttered under her breath.

Zarman smiled. "Oh, Mr. Mustang. What would make you think that?"

"Well what other reason would you have to kidnap my Lieutenant? It's pretty obvious you want something extra with your provisions."

Zarman held his hands up. "All in good time," he said. "Now then, shall we make the trade?"

Roy let out a sigh; the sooner they could get this over with, the better. "Very well, what else do you want from us? I assume our ammunition?"

"No, nothing like that. You see, I want your Lieutenant."

Roy's eyes widened and he let out a gasp, as did the rest of his team. Feury, in particular was barely able to restrain himself from going over there and tearing this guy a new one.

"What!? How could you-"

Raising his hand, the Colonel said "Hold on." Seeing this, Rain stopped himself and stood at attention. Now that he got his subordinate to keep his cool, he turned his attention back to Zarman.

"May I ask why?"

"Well, you see, we heard that the military's lap dogs were on their way to deliver our supplies yesterday. We wanted to make sure you were going to come, so my men and I decided to spy on you."

Hearing that, Havoc turned to Breda and whispered "Told you we were being spied on."

The redhead shrugged. "Whatever," he said. "Anyone could've figured that out." Jean smirked; it felt nice to be vindicated for once.

"That's enough, you two," their Colonel said, making both men stand at attention. "Now what does this have to do with the Lieutenant?"

Zarman smiled. "Well you see, after my men tried to attack you, I saw what prowess this woman has with a gun…I had never seen anything like it."

Roy couldn't help but chuckle when he saw Riza roll her eyes; he was starting to get the feeling that this guy hadn't shut up about her natural talent with firearms the whole time she'd been his prisoner.

"Is that so?"

"Yes, from that moment, I knew I must have her," he said. "From that moment, I knew it was love."

For the second time in the last five minutes, the Colonel felt his eyes widen."What!?"

"I want your Lieutenant to become my wife."

The entire team gasped in shock and anger.

Riza in particular, could feel her blood boiling. He mentioned wanting her for his army, but nothing about wanting to marry her. She put up with his sexist comments and his arrogant demeanour all night waiting for her friends to come, knowing that whatever he threw at her Colonel he could take it. She wouldn't become part of his gorilla army, no siren. But now he was saying he wanted to marry her!? This was ridiculous! She'd been quiet until now, but this was the last straw.

"Hold on a second! You can't just decide my future like that-"

"Silence!" he answered.

Without a second thought, he walked over to Riza and slapped her across the face, making her fall to the ground.

Roy, meanwhile, started gritting his teeth, barely restraining a growl. All he could see was red, right now. All he wanted was to snap his fingers and torch that son of a-

"Colonel!" said a voice he knew all too well; it was Hawkeye's.

He looked up to see her amber eyes boring into his as the burly man picked her up off the ground. To anyone else, it looked like she was angry with him. Disappointed, even that he nearly lost his temper. But he knew better. Without verbally communicating it to him, she was telling him to keep his cool.

Not that he could blame her.

They both knew how irrational Roy could be when it came to the well being of his friends, and this was no exception; one wrong move and not only would he jeopardize the mission, but there could be casualties on both sides.

So, the Colonel took in a deep breath and placed his right hand back in his pants pocket, allowing himself to stand tall and bore his eyes into the cocky man before him.

"I see, so that's all you want then."

"But of course," said Zarman. "Surely, you understand my plight, Mr. Mustang?"

"Some of it I do understand, she is very physically attractive."

From out of the corner of his eye, Roy could see her blushing. Not that he was surprised; unless she was dressed up for a party, it was rare for him to comment on her looks.

And while he enjoyed seeing her clean-up, the Colonel always felt she was most beautiful when she was just being herself. Yes, as far as Roy was concerned, Riza Hawkeye was a kind, wonderful woman. But he was starting to get the impression that Zarman didn't see the same thing in her as he did.

No, he knew he didn't see her as he did. He could tell from the way that Zarman said "Yes…she is indeed…"

There seemed to be a dreamy, almost lustful yet loving look in his eye. Too bad Roy wasn't buying what he was selling, not even for a second. He knew that look all too well, mainly because it was the exact same look he had in his eyes whenever he seduced a woman into bed with him, the same look in his conquest's eyes as she asked him to call her sometime.

No doubt about it, this man had nothing good in store for Riza.

But the Colonel wasn't too worried about that, right now. Not when he had some good dirt on Zarman, dirt he was about to use against him.

"But as I recall, you already have a wife, yourself, Zarman."

Roy never let trademark smirk creep onto his face, opting instead to let his face show no emotion. But inside, however, the Flame Alchemist couldn't help but beam with satisfaction. Surely, that little piece of information would be enough to put his opponent in checkmate.

Instead, the chief gave him a evil smile. "Had a wife. She passed away recently," he said. "And even if she hadn't, what does it matter? People like her are easily discardable."

While Roy kept his emotions in check, he could still feel his hand balling up into a fist inside his pocket. Primitive or not, this guy's sexist attitude was really starting to piss him off.

"Aren't you assuming a lot of me, though? I mean, you have no evidence to suspect that I'll just go along with what you're proposing."

"True, but I have my ways," Zarman said. "I could always ruin your reputation."

When he heard that, the Flame Alchemist felt a smirk form on his face. "You can try, but I doubt it would be easy. My military record is pretty clean."

"Is it now?" Hearing that, Roy looked up to see Zarman smiling at him, again. "You are the Flame Alchemist, are you not? I hear you are quite ambitious always looking for ways to work your way up the military ladder. Which is impressive when you consider your "War Hero" status."

Roy didn't say anything. Instead he just stood there, taking in everything this man was saying.

Honestly, he wasn't surprised that Zarman knew of his war criminal history Zambia was only fifteen miles away from what remained of Ishbal. The only question on his mind was what was this man was plotting?

"It would be a shame if that was suddenly taken from you," said Zarman. "Why if I wanted to, I could simply refuse your nations."

"But wouldn't you be at a disadvantage? Your people need those supplies to live."

"True. But word spreads fast, Mr. Mustang. If I were to complain directly to your Furhur, I guarantee you I will make it do that your career will be tarnished."

"But it would be my words against yours," the Colonel reminded him.

"Yes. But I can always find ways to make you look responsible."

Upon hearing that, Riza could feel her eyes widen. She knew exactly what this man was doing; he was trying to blackmail Roy. But unlike some other blackmail attempts she'd seen on her Colonel, this one actually seemed plausible.

If he refused, than Zarman would find a way to not only ruin his career, but also his chances of ever becoming Furhur. His chance for redemption would be gone and he would be reduced to a depressed, suicidal husk once again. She didn't want that for him. And so with somber eyes, the Lieutenant let out a sigh; she'd made her decision. She would allow herself to become Zarman's slave to protect her Colonel. Obviously she didn't want to, but she would gladly take it. Anything to save her Colonel from a life of misery and shattered dreams.

"You wouldn't want that now, would you?"

Roy didn't respond to Zarman, he was too busy looking at his Lieutenant. The look in her eyes was sad and somber, like she'd made an awful decision. It made him angry.

But Zarman didn't notice any of this. If anything, he thought the pissed off look on his opponent's face meant that he'd won. It made him smile.

"That's what I thought. Now then, if you give me our rations, my men and my new wife will be on our way-"

"I'm sorry, but I can't do that."

Zarman felt his eyes widen when he heard that. With an angry face, he turned around to face the stoic Colonel. "What did you say?"

"You heard me; I'm not going to do what you've asked of me."

Zarman raised an eyebrow. "You mean you'd forsake my people in favour of this woman?

That's awfully cold of you, Mr. Mus-"

"You didn't let me finish," Roy said. At this point, he was practically fighting to keep his tone calm. "I didn't come here to trade my subordinate, I came here to do a job and that's what I'm going to do."

"Rubbish!" he said. "You "military dogs" are all the same; you'll gladly trade one life if it means getting what you want!"

"I prefer to see it the other way around. Lieutenant Hawkeye has been of invaluable help to me. She's a fine soldier and a great friend, and I am grateful to have her at my side."

Riza felt her eyes widen. She knew Roy was grateful for her endless assistance, but never in a million years did she believe he would admit it out loud. In a way, she should've been angry with him. Here she was trying to save him and he just went in and ruined it all. And yet, he did it with such conviction, such concern for her while caring little for himself that it made her frown soften into a smile.

"Colonel…"

Unfortunately, Zarman had chosen this moment to turn and see his captives' expression. Needless to say, he was not pleased with what he was seeing.

Her eyes no longer carried any fear. Instead, there was a glimmer of hope and satisfaction in them. Even her frown had softened into a smile, and that's what frightened him. He knew that look all too well; it was love. True, undeniable love. And all for the man who just said no to him.

He growled. "No! I will not stand for this!"

As if on cue, the the guard holding Riza grabbed her by the head and forced her onto her knees. That already put Roy on edge, but once he saw Zarman pull out the small handgun he kept in his holster and point it directly at Riza, he knew he couldn't stand by and watch this.

He could see the fear in her eyes, the angry, almost twitching grimace the man before her was wearing as he spoke again.

"Either you give me your woman, OR ELSE!"

Riza didn't know what to do right now. She'd been held at gunpoint before, but never like this. Not without a weapon to defend herself, and certainly never with a crazed man who supposedly longed for her holding the gun. So, she closed her eyes and waited for the end.

SNAP!

Before she even knew what was happening, Riza opened her eyes to see Zarman's hand on fire. He was screaming loudly as he let go of the gun and fell to his knees, seething at the pain left by the flames as they slowly dissipated, leaving nothing but some visible first degree burns.

"I'd quit whining if I were you, Zarman. You should consider yourself lucky." The man looked up to see the Colonel standing front of him, noticing the flame array etched into the white glove on his right hand. "I only burnt the skin, you'll find your nerves and skeletal structure will be fine once the burn marks heal."

Zarman didn't know what to say, he simply let Roy bore one last grimace into his soul before turning to face his men with that same look.

"Now then, gentlemen, I believe we have a trade to make. You wouldn't want your people to starve now, would you?"

The men raised their hands up to surrender. "No, we're good."

"That's what I thought."

Turning to face Riza, he gave her one last look before snapping his fingers and burning the ropes on her hands, freeing her.

"Let's go, Lieutenant," he said.

He turned his back to her and walked away.

But the Lieutenant didn't pick herself up, right away. She just sat there for a moment, staring at the ground sadly.

Before long, she finally replied with "Yes, Sir." Picking herself up, Riza walked over to her Colonel's side, knowing that they would need to talk about this later.

…

Things had been quiet since leaving Zambia. There was room to sit in the back crate now that the supplies had been delivered , so Roy and Riza decided to sit in the wooden box while Feury and Falman sat in the back seat of the military Tumblr. And Breda? He was sitting in the front seat, chatting with Havoc as he drove them home to East City.

But for the recently rescued Riza Hawkeye, all was not well. Neither she nor Roy had not spoken to each other since entering the vehicle, opting instead to sit together in silence. Him with his arms crossed and his eyes focused out on the dirt road, while she sat on her legs and stared down at her fists, thinking over what to say.

But that was the problem; Riza didn't know what to say. She knew that no matter what came out of her mouth, he'd still be angry with her.

Of course, that didn't mean she wasn't willing to try.

So, the Lieutenant took a deep breath and turned to face her commanding officer. "I'm sorry, Colonel," she said. "But there's no reason to keep yourself angry. We delivered the supplies to the village and you rescued me. Everything's fine."

Roy eyed her. "Is it"

The Lieutenant said nothing, she simply stared down at her hands before answering him. "No…No, it doesn't…"

Yeah, he was still angry with her. Not that she could blame him; she'd almost let herself become someone else's property in an effort to protect him, after all.

"Why?"

Riza remained silent for a moment, thinking over every possible answer she could give him. Of course, she knew there was nothing she could say in her defence that he'd be okay with, so the Lieutenant decided to be open and honest with him.

With her held high, she turned to face the young man.

"Because I swore to protect you, Roy," she said. "That includes keeping you safe from anything that could ruin your reputation, or God forbid, your mental well being. I could tell from the way he was talking that he was serious about making your life a living hell and I couldn't let him get away with it. The last thing I would want is for your dreams to be shattered."

"That may be…But there's no way I could ever let you do that." The moment she heard that, Riza felt her eyes widen as they remained fixated on Roy. He never turned to face her, preferring to stare off into the distance. But now he had that serious, determined gaze in his eyes she knew all too well.

"You're not some gun totting slave, Riza. You're your own person. But that's all he saw you as…," he could feel his hands starting to tense up as he continued speaking. "It makes me sick just thinking about it-"

"Colonel."

Feeling a soft feminine hand place itself onto his hand, Roy let out a gasp. Turning his head around, he came to find himself staring at Riza. Her eyes were warm and concerned looking, as if she were conveying to him to let go of his anger.

"I'm sorry…"

And just like that, the Colonel felt his anger starting to subside. He couldn't help it, though. Whenever Riza allowed herself to show concern for someone, her eyes reflected that.

And for some reason, it relaxed him. Maybe it's because she knew it was her way of keeping him calm when they were alone.

No, he knew her better than that. It was her way of apologizing, that it would never happen again. He couldn't stay mad at her after that.

Letting a smile graze his face, he said "Don't be…"

Roy could see her surprised expression before watching as a warm smile graze her face. The smile that he rarely got to see, the smile he loved, because it conveyed to him the real Riza Hawkeye.

Riza, meanwhile was happy to see a smile forming on her Colonel's face and his body language relaxing. In his own way, he was accepting her apology. And she couldn't have been happier.

"Thank you, Colonel," she said, now staring directly into his warm obsidian eyes. "And thank you for saving my life."

He chuckled. "There's no need to thank me, you know? But I appreciate it."

She said nothing as she kept smiling at him. He too smiled at her for another moment before she finally took her hand off of his.

Now that they'd put all that awkwardness behind them, the two started chatting again. Mostly about work, but also what they might do now that their mission was over and home was just a few hours away.

Unbeknownst to either of them, Feury was watching the duo, smiling at how calm and relaxed they'd become. "It looks like the Colonel's starting to relax a little."

"Well, don't tell me you're surprised," Falman spoke up. "The Colonel's always had a soft spot for Lieutenant Hawkeye."

Kain smiled. "That's true.

The End

[sgtbbvrnes]

The thing is—

Bucky Barnes x Male!Reader

Summary: ... this is wrong. This is so wrong. Words: 2,025 Warnings: internalised homophobia + language Notes:  for anon — idk if this is what you wanted but ta-daa. happy 2017 frens 🍾✨

The thing is—

He knows what’s happening. He’s been through this before. At least, he thinks he has. The feeling he’s got right now feels familiar. He was a ladies’ man, he knows that much from the memories he’s gathered and every other thing he’s read about Bucky Barnes. 

But he knows this feeling. It’s that feeing in his gut and that tug at his heart, and it’s comforting but it’s terrifying all at once. 

He doesn’t know what love is, exactly. He knows that he loved his mother, and his father, and his sisters, and Steve. God, he loved them. He’d have died for them. (And technically, he did.) 

But being in love is a whole different story. 

There was one girl, way back when. He felt the same things that he feels right now, and Christ, it’s terrifying. He thinks he was in love with her. So the only logical explanation would that he’s in love now, too. 

But that’s not right. He shouldn’t be in love. 

Not because he thinks he doesn’t deserve it. It being the goodness and pureness of love. He doesn’t think he deserves it regardless, but that ain’t the point.

The point is that— it’s Y/N. 

It’s Y/N with the bright eyes and soft hair and lovely face. It’s Y/N— who is the most beautiful person to have ever existed, and Bucky isn’t just referring to the marvel of a face. It’s Y/N’s soul, and how it glows and burns brighter than any star in the galaxy. Sometimes Bucky thinks he sees an angel and that he’s finally bit the dust, but then he sees Y/N’s face and smile and he reaches out to touch skin and he knows that he’s alive and well and that—

This is wrong. This is so wrong.

Because it’s illegal.

Bucky hasn’t opened a Bible in years, has lost his faith years and years ago. He only ever prayed because Steve was always the more religious one, and the look on Steve’s face when he’d asked Bucky why he wasn’t going to Confession just about done broke his heart. Steve didn’t even know that Bucky’d stopped believing then. 

But he knows damn well that man should not lie with man the way that he lies with a woman, that it’s an abomination, and life back before he fell off the train was all by the Bible and any homosexual caught in the act would’ve been thrown into jail, at best. 

Most of them never made it to jail, because they’d be dead along the way. And no one would’ve cared. Good riddance, they’d say. 

And that’s the thing, isn’t it? 

That Bucky’s already damned from all his bucketloads of past sins, and now he’s got to add falling in love with Y/N to the damn list because he is the light in Bucky’s dull life and he is good and he shines bright and he is a he. 

So Bucky starts to avoid him, no matter how much it aches at his insides and how much his life seems pointless and dull now, despite already being cleared to tag along onto missions. 

And it works out fine. Bucky manages to avoid Y/N (and everyone else while he’s at it, since, other than Steve, he’s only ever liked being in Y/N’s company anyway), since that’s one of the things that he’s excellent at. Until—

“Buck.”

Bucky freezes, shoulders tensing before he can stop himself. It’s half three in the morning, everyone in the Tower was asleep (he’d double checked with FRIDAY), but apparently FRIDAY was wrong and failed to mention that Y/N was still in the building and very much awake.

“Bucky,” it’s softer now, weaker, and if Bucky’s looking for it— hurt. Bucky doesn’t turn, but Y/N comes around to stand in front of him anyway. His brows are knotted together in the middle and his lips are downturned, his eyes are soft, even in the lack of light. “Hey.”

Bucky licks at his lips, nods once. “Hey.”

Y/N takes a sit on the coffee table, elbows leaning on his knees, not too close but not too far. He arches a brow, and Bucky clenches his jaw and fists before he does something stupid. 

Like kissing the frown off of Y/N’s beautiful face, or something. 

(Abomination. Disgusting. Abnormal.)

“You gonna tell me why you suddenly dropped of the face of the Earth, or?”

Bucky shrugs nonchalantly. “Been here all along.”

“Have you, though?” Y/N scoffs. “’cause I’m not trying to be a little bitch about it, but we’ve hung out practically every day and then suddenly you’re gone. You’re avoiding me, and I wanna know why.”

Bucky almost smiles. He’d always liked that about him. That he was direct about things and he wasn’t going to go around in circles before he asked the question that he really intended to since the beginning. 

“I haven’t,” is all he says instead. 

And Y/N rolls his eyes, giving Bucky the most unamused look that has Bucky feeling so much fucking love for this kid and it’s horrible because it’s so wrong and he’s already got a long list sins and it’s just growing and growing because of how he’s so in love with this boy. 

“Bullshit.” He scoffs out again, and then he’s running his fingers through his hair (and Bucky’s always wondered what that felt like but then he thinks of hellfire against his fingertips and he knows that that’s what’s coming for him with those thoughts). “Honestly, dude. What is it? Like— did I offend you or something? ‘cause if I did then I’m genuinely sorry. I didn’t mean to. Did I accidentally trigger you? Or made you think about something you didn’t want to? Or— like. What is it?”

Bucky doesn’t say anything. He stays silent, he doesn’t look back at Y/N, but he knows that he’s got those beautiful eyes burning into him. 

“Is it ‘cause— did you see me on my date the other day or something?”

Bucky freezes. Not because he’d seen Y/N on a date. But because Y/N went on a date. 

His fists clench before he can stop himself, and—

“Is that it? Are you— fuck. Are you a fucking homophobic?” Y/N almost spits out, and Bucky startles at the viciousness in his tone that he actually looks up, and those eyes that he dreams about are burning with a fire that he’s never seen before. 

Bucky doesn’t say anything, his mind caught on the word ‘homophobic’ because that would mean that he’s...

“Fuck. I thought you were better than that. I thought— I thought after all you’d been through and shit, that you wouldn’t— I thought we were friends. I thought—” he doesn’t finish his sentence, shaking his head. “And here I was, thinking you were a decent human being.”

He gets up then, shaking his head still and muttering to himself, and he’s taken three steps away, when Bucky finally manages to speak.

“I’m not.”

Bucky hears him stop, but he doesn’t turn, or ask Bucky what he means. 

But he doesn’t walk away. 

“I’m not a... decent human being,” Bucky says, because it feels wrong to say he’s not homophobic, because— isn’t everyone technically a homophobic? “I—” he clears his throat. “—I’m not... like you. I’m not... good.”

Bucky must stay silent for too long, because Y/N loses his patience and then—

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You. You’re... good. You’re pure, and... and light. You’re good. I’m not. I’m— I’m a sinner. I’ve killed, and killed, and I— I don’t deserve good things, and it ain’t. It ain’t right, and I’m just sinning even more, just by... wanting.”

Bucky doesn’t know if he’s making sense. Y/N seems to, though, because he walks back so that he’s standing at the end of the sofa, staring down at Bucky. “Wanting what?”

“You,” Bucky chokes out on a whisper. 

It’s Y/N’s turn to be silent. 

So he gulps, looking away. “It ain’t right. It’s illegal. I could get you killed, just for telling you that, and— and that ain’t right, either. But I... I’ve never fucking wanted anything more than I’ve wanted you, and— it ain’t right. I’m a sinner, but you’re one of the good ones, but I still fucking want you, and it ain’t what God wanted, and it’s gonna get us both killed or arrested, and—”

“Woah, woah, wait,” he interrupts, and Bucky clamps his mouth shut. “What are you talking about?” 

Bucky doesn’t answer him, doesn’t want to admit out loud that he’s so fucking in love with him. 

“Are you,” he pauses, gulping. “Are you in love with me?”

Bucky starts to shake his head, just to save them both from the trouble they were going to get into. But when his eyes meet Y/N’s, he ends up saying, “I’ve never loved anyone more than I love you,” in a whisper that echoes louder than a police siren.

He doesn’t smile, doesn’t walk away, doesn’t show disgust. Instead— his eyes soften, and he licks at his lips. “It’s not... It’s okay. Now. It’s not illegal. You know that, right?”

Bucky frowns, but he doesn’t say anything, even though he did not know that. 

So Y/N continues: “It’s... accepted now. Mostly. People... get it now. That it isn’t a choice, and that, y’know. Love is love. Sometimes you think you’re straight all your life, and then you’re falling in love with someone of the same gender, and everything’s a confusing mess, but people get it now.”

Bucky doesn’t believe what he’s hearing, so he can’t do anything apart from stare at Y/N with wide eyes that blink too many times.

He doesn’t seem to begrudge him for it, though, and instead goes on, because he knows Bucky, at the end of the day. He can tell that Bucky wants to ask more, but is too shy to do so. So he goes on.

He tells Bucky that gay marriage is legal now, about the many straight allies, about the pride parades, about how some people have started websites to be ‘holiday parents’ to kids who’d been shunned out of their families for their sexualities, about how gay couples are on TV now and aren’t a “gay couple”, but rather: just two men/two women in a relationship.

“— and yeah,” he shrugs. “— there still are assholes, ‘course there are. But y’know. The world’s changing. Slowly. But it’s changing. And in a good way.”

“Being... homosexual. It’s... okay now?” Bucky asks again, because he doesn’t really know to believe Y/N or not. Then before he can answer: “Being in love with another fella. It’s... alright?”

“Yeah,” he nods. “It is.”

Bucky licks at his lips, nodding once and darting his eyes away. “And you?”

He hums. “What about me?”

“Me being in love with... you. Are you alright with it?” He asks, shy and closed off, but then he widens his eyes and looks back at Y/N. “We don’t gotta do anything. I just— I needed to let you know. I don’t expect anything, just because it’s all okay now, but I needed to—”

Bucky’s interrupted again, but this time— it’s because of a pair of lips pressed against his. Not too soft, but not too hard and aggressive either. It’s just a pair of lips slotted between his and it’s warm and it’s gone all too soon.

“I’m alright with it,” he says softly, his forehead pressing onto Bucky’s, and a little grin on his face. 

“That’s... good. It’s good,” Bucky mumbles, more to himself than anything, because his focus is on something else. Namely: the lips a couple of inches away from his own. 

There’s a laugh then, from those lips, and Bucky’s smiling before he knows he’s smiling, and then he’s kissing Y/N again. 

The thing is—

He knows what was happening. He knows. He’d fallen in love with someone who has stars in their eyes and brings light and colour to his life. 

So Bucky’s in love.

With another man.

But it’s okay now. 

This is right. This is so right.