#haven’t had a table in a while because bad section

[bluevelvt]

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[thisblogisaboutabook]

Bad Idea, Right? - Part 8

Eris x Reader/Azriel’s Daughter

If things go according to plan, Eris and Y/N’s first official date could end in hot, steamy sex. Or, it could end in complete and utter chaos - because when do things ever go according to plan? Azriel almost has a good time, until he doesn’t. We also FINALLY meet Tamlin’s daughter.

Part 7 Part 7.5 Headcanon

Warnings: Alcohol, language, smutty content, assault with non-consensual kissing, breeding kink (kind of)

An evening breeze blew through Velaris sending a slight chill through the champagne golden silk dress I’d chosen for the evening. A caress of warmth rose up from the fingers I’d threaded through Eris’, heat continuing up my arm and throughout my body, counteracting the mild chill.

When he’d shown up to my door right on time, dressed in a deep forest green tailored suit with the top unbuttoned and a turtleneck that was - For one, so perfectly molded to his torso that I practically salivated as fantasies of licking his abs flashed through my mind. And two, conveniently matched my dress perfectly - I almost said “Fuck the date.” and jumped on him then and there.

He’d arrived carrying three things. A bouquet of hydrangeas for my mother, symbolizing gratitude for her grace with the current situation. Freesia bulbs for my little sister to add to her Sprite garden if she wished, a symbol of friendship. I realized the double meaning of it, to draw in sprites with wishes for friendship but also to symbolize their new budding friendship. My mother smiled softly as she realized it too.

For me, he’d brought a “Fire Poppy”, apparently native to his court. His hesitance to express the meaning of the flowers, told me enough. Fire. Passion. But the incredibly faint dust of pink on his freckled cheeks left me wondering if perhaps there was something more.

Father only appeared at the last moment to kiss my forehead and likely give a seething look toward Eris while doing so that warned, Just because I haven’t killed you yet doesn’t mean I won’t. Eris paid no mind.

And now here we were, walking through the streets of Velaris hand in hand. Eris’ focus remained intently upon me as I pointed out various shops that I would frequent. I pointed out one that I loved as a child and Azalea still adored. The window was decorated with paint splatters of primary colors that blended together into a rainbow mirroring the Sidra and inside floated hundreds of miniature fae lights imitating the skies of Night Court.

Eris paused as we stood before the shop. “Can we take a look inside?”

“Why?” I asked, genuinely perplexed by his interest in this shop of all the ones we’d wandered past.

“It’s a surprise.” He stated.

Because why would anything with Eris be anything but secretive?

Eris read my responding roll of the eyes for exactly what it was. “Surely you realize there is a difference between a surprise and a secret?”

I couldn’t help myself. “Many of your secrets have left me feeling quite surprised, Eris. Certainly you would realize that?”

He huffed a silent laugh leaving me on the street to go into the store. Set in my stubborn ways, I refused to let him win and stood outside waiting.

Eris was back by my side eight minutes later with a small canvas bag. I raised an eyebrow. “What’d you get?”

“Ah, if you wanted to know, you could have come in with me. Guess it’s my secret to keep.”

“Mother spare me. You are insufferable.” I muttered stepping ahead of him down the street. His long strides caught up with mine within a few steps.

He once again wound his fingers through mine. “You love it.”

And I hated that it was true.

“You’re not going to tell me what you got?”

“Just a gift for a friend.”

———————-

Eris had reserved a table at Sevenda’s where Sevenda herself eagerly greeted us. She ushered us to a private section of the restaurant, lit with candles and within earshot of a performing pianist. She’d kissed me on the cheek and given Eris a respectful bow of the head before bringing out a mouthwatering appetizer of some delectable cheese sauce she’d recently added to her menu.

The secluded setting of our table, incandescent glow flickering off the candles, and soft melody floating in from the piano, all flowed together into a very intimate setting. Strange that I had bared myself to this male so many times, and performed every sexual act imaginable with him, yet I’d never felt so exposed to him as I did in this very moment.

Eris checked his blazer, and gods… I only ever wanted to see him in fitted turtle necks or absolutely fucking nothing again. The male was delicious and his gaze…. He was greedily drinking me in as if he’d splay me out on the table itself and feast. There was no way he couldn’t smell the arousal pouring off of me. I sure as hell could smell his, and it was far more mouthwatering than any of the glorious spices wafting through the restaurant.

Before I could give in to my instincts, Eris’ low tone interrupted. “If you keep looking at me like that, Y/N, I’m not going to make it through this dinner.”

“Maybe I don’t want you to.”

He audibly groaned. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

Just as our mutual eye fucking grew so intense that I genuinely wondered if Eris really was about take me then and there, our waiter approached with a bottle of the Inner Circle’s favorite wine. “Compliments of the High Lord.” Making eye contact with Eris, the male suddenly seemed to remember who he was in the presence of as he uncomfortably cleared his throat, “of the Night Court.”

Eris paid no mind and thanked the waiter. Surprise crossed the males face as Eris took the bottle from him and poured our glasses himself.

When the waiter took our orders and returned to the kitchen, Eris’ gaze returned to me. His eyes again roving over my body but lingering on my face. He smirked when he realized I was flushing under his intense eyes. “Are you nervous, little Shadowsinger?” He asked. His tone predatory.

I took the opportunity to send a shadow to caress the shell of his ear, effectively shutting him up.

“Now that we’re alone,” I ran my foot up the length of his leg, stopping the journey just short of where I so desperately wanted to feel him. “How long have you had an an apartment here and why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“Ahh yes, excellent talk for a first date.” Eris mused, raising the wine glass to his plush lips and taking a long, slow sip before continuing. “Perhaps, I wanted a place to see you without you having to travel through multiple courts to find me.”

“Do you not wish for me to come to the Autumn Keep any longer?”

Eris’ change in tone took me by surprise as it became stern, the voice of a High Lord and not the bedroom voice of my lover. “Don’t you dare think that for a second. There’s nothing mo-“

He stopped himself mid-sentence shifting uncomfortably. “I enjoy your presence in my keep, in my bed, Y/N. But I also like to have the opportunity to visit you in your home court.”

My heartbeat quickened at the power flowing off of him, the desire in his amber eyes.

“So, Rhys was totally fine with you having a place here, just to hook up with his niece?”

“Diplomacy, darling. It is far easier to have a place here for times that negotiations and other meetings run over. It also benefits him to be able to have eyes on a fellow High Lord, no? It was not a difficult matter to convince him.

And I was going to tell you, you just happened to pick up the hobby of drunkenly wandering the streets before I had the opportunity.”

“I was fine.”

I was not fine. He knew it. I knew it. I was borderline feral that night.

“It wasn’t you I was concerned about. It was the poor citizens running the other way, screaming of a rabid, shadow-creature roaming Velaris in search of its next meal.”

I smiled. “For the second time this evening, Eris Vanserra, you are insufferable.”

“And again, little one, you love it.”

I rolled my eyes and took a swig of wine.

————————

Eris

She was fucking captivating. Eris drunk in every detail of Y/N like she was the wine flowing from her glass.

She had to know she looked like a goddess. Had he told her? She could read him like a well-adored book at this point. She read every look he gave her without him needing to speak a word. I want you. You’re perfect. I need you. You’re more perfect than I ever dared dream. I would kiss the earth you walked on if you only asked.

Shit, could she read that all on his face? Should he tell her how damned gorgeous she was or would she give him that all-too-enticing look of “Spare me the compliments, High Lord, you can strip and ravish me once we’re alone.”

And gods, he was going to. He had plans for his little Shadowsinger tonight, plans involving carefully undressing her and pressing kisses to her silken skin, replacing each bit of fabric slipping off of her body with a press of his lips. Instead of burning that lovely little number that was hugging her mouth-watering curves, he would proudly display it in the Autumn Court’s archives. He was a romantic, after all.

Of course, before putting it behind glass for safe keeping, he’d be binding those pretty little wrists behind her back with said dress. He was also a deviant.

As for his plans after that? They were far too filthy to fantasize about at the table.

“Your aroma is rather fragrant.” Her teasing voice broke him from his thoughts.

“And you’re rather intoxicating. We make quite the pair, love.”

And there it was - the little blush she always tried so hard to hide from him.

If just the term “love” brought that to her face, what lovely shades of pink would her cheeks light up with if he laid it all out right now? If he told her how she’d fucking ruined him for anyone else? That to taste her was to taste the nectar of the gods? That he was so hopelessly in love with her that there was no crawling out of this pit of desire, and he’d sooner drown in his need for her than ever swim up for air.

The urge to do just that frightened him. Why did he think this date was a good idea? As far as his self control went, it was a terrible idea. And as far as he cared at this point, it was the best idea. He was here, in front of her, and nothing else mattered.

————————————

Eris had always thought himself better than the primitive beasts fae turned into when it came to their mates. But he truly realized how wrong he was when after dinner, Y/N had requested to walk very slowly along the river until her stomach wasn’t, as she so elegantly stated it, “bursting at the seams.”

Given that after the wonderful meal they’d devoured, he too was struggling, he obliged her, draping his suit’s jacket as well as his arm over her shoulders. She pressed a hand to her very, very, slightly bloated abdomen, in an effort of easing the discomfort. Such a simple gesture that should have meant absolutely nothing but….

An inferno blazed within him at the thought of her glowing with a round belly, the mating bond’s most primal instinct roaring at him to winnow her away immediately and fill her so utterly full of him that there would be no questioning of whose she was. His.

He prayed to the mother or whomever would listen that the breeze would blow the sickeningly strong scent of his arousal far away.

————————

Y/N

The gallery was packed. Unsurprisingly, anyone and everyone wanted to come out to brush elbows with the Inner Circle and who could blame them? Unlike the other courts of Prythian, Uncle Rhys and Aunt Feyre actually interacted with their people. Well, the people of Velaris at least. Feyre was respected as High Lady but she was revered as an artist. Proceeds from her own work went directly back into the arts district.

“Beautiful.” Eris mused approaching a work of art toward the back wall but keeping his eyes on me. I sipped the champagne an attendant handed me upon arrival, needing it to get through the rest of this evening.

Especially needing it to get through the work of art he was approaching.

“This.” Eris motioned toward the piece, “is stunning.”

“It’s not for sale. Just a work from one of Feyre’s students.”

The art, featuring darkness floating upward from the bottom and a blaze falling from the top, intertwining with licks and whirls of flame and shadow in the middle.

“Cost is of no concern to me, little one. I need it.”

A sing-song voice came from behind us. “It’s magnificent isn’t it?” Feyre asked.

“What can I do to acquire such a fine piece of art?”

“You’ll have to ask the artist.” She nodded toward me.

“Aww, come on my lovely niece. Think of all the supplies it could fund.”

“You’re a busybody.”

She only gave an airy laugh before disconnecting the mental bond and returning to the attendees.

“Wouldn’t it look lovely displayed for all of my court to see?”

My gut lurched and I wasn’t sure if it was from imposter syndrome or excitement.

“Fine.” I’ll make a deal with you, Eris Vanserra. He raised an eyebrow. “This art is very personal to me. And despite the fact that it is hanging in the gallery, I want it to be for your eyes only. Do you agree to hang it in your chambers?”

Eris gave a faux pout. “And not show my lovely lady’s art for all the world to admire?”

My heart raced as I quipped too quickly, not allowing the time to change my mind. “Perhaps I only want to be yours to admire.”

Eris visibly gaped at the statement and my heart sank. Had I read all of his adoration wrong? Was I going to humiliate myself just as I had two years ago when he’d left me on the dance floor and I swore I’d never let him have that power over me again?

He swallowed a lump in his throat. His voice breaking slightly. “And your payment terms?”

“Oh you’ll be paying out the ass for it.”

He grinned. “As one does for the finest things in life. I’ll take it.”

A beat of silence.

“And I’ll take you too, if you’ll have me.”

And with that he leaned in to kiss me, soft and hard, fervently and slowly, wanting more yet only needing this.

A throat cleared behind us as father interrupted. He looked to me and to the art behind me.

“I never realized….” He spoke softly as he took in the work.

I flushed, the work now feeling far too intimate under his gaze.

My father turned to Eris. “You’re purchasing this?”

Eris nodded. “A worthy investment, yes?”

My father remained tense but something in his eyes softened. “A very worthy investment.”

Father leaned in to kiss my forehead. “Enjoy your night sweetheart.”

It was at that moment Adish appeared, his Day Court friends Hem and Apollo in tow along with Nyx and a female I’d never seen before. Nyx looked in my direction with a wink as he saw the piece Eris and I stood before, before heading with the group for glasses of champagne.

Eris spoke, “I’m going to speak with Feyre regarding reservation of the piece before anyone else tries to snag it out from under me.”

“It’s not for sale, Eris. Nobody else would be able to purchase it.”

He pressed his warm lips into mine. “I won’t risk a good thing.”

I blushed, dismissing him.

Nursing my champagne, I perused the various pieces decorating the gallery walls when a female voice came from behind me. “If you wanted your father’s attention, there are better ways than whoring yourself to Autumn Court trash.”

I turned around to see the female Nyx had entered with. Her dark hair and blue eyes fooling nobody. Clever little shapeshifter.

“And I didn’t realize your father was in the habit of allowing females to leave his manor.”

She grinned. “Oh come on, he locked her in ONE time...or at least that’s what he tells me. He really can be an overbearing asshole sometimes.”

I laughed. “I missed you so much, you bitch. Nyx needs to stop hoarding you.”

“Please” she scoffed. “I don’t need Tamlin and Rhys’ melodrama to complicate things.”

“Ha, I’m sure Nyx filled you in on all of the drama in my world recently.”

She lifted an eyebrow. “Oh yes, I’ve been living vicariously through your escapades.”

She leaned in to hug me. “So” I took in the brown hair she’d chosen for the evening. “Does the carpet match the drapes?”

“Why don’t you find out?”

“Mmm, as enticing as that would be. I prefer your blonde hair and green eyes. It does something for me.”

“It does something for Nyx too.”

I pretended to vomit before Nyx stepped in. “If you’ll excuse me, I’d like to spend time with my lady before she decides to leave with you instead and I get stuck with the fireling.”

“He’s quite fun, Nyx. I’m sure you’d enjoy the ride.”

Nyx choked on his drink and whisked Layla away with him, leaving me to take in the art in peace.

A few more minutes passed and my shadows grew restless as if contemplating the same thing as me: Eris should be back by now.

Feyre had returned to the gallery with no Eris in sight. I searched, passing Adish and Apollo, my parents and Azalea, Rhys and Feyre, Cassian and Nesta, even Amren, but no Eris.

Had he left? Did I scare him away?

No, his response was sincere. He couldn’t have. He wouldn’t, right?

I walked down a quiet hallway, stepping away from the crowd. “Eris?” I whispered into the quiet of the hall.

Two shadows returned with no information but another returned frantic. “Bad.” “Go.”

I hurried in the direction my shadows shot out, winding further and further down the hall.

My heart stopped. In front of me was the radiant, gorgeous Hemera, pressed up against my man. Lips crashing into his.

“Bad.” My shadow repeated. Whirling to show me something.

Eris saw me and his eyes blew wide, shaking his head.

Hemera turned, wicked grin contorting her gorgeous features into something cruel.

“Sorry, hon. He’s just so needy and so pretty. Can you blame me?”

Did this bitch really think I’d simper and turn away? Oh no. My shadows continued their whispers.

“Blade.”

“Bad.”

“Blade.”

“Bad.”

A sliver of silver caught the dim lights shining down upon them, a blade held to Eris’ neck.

Eris stared at me wide eyed as my shadows erupted into a frenzy around me in effort to distract the Day Court female.

She jolted and her blade knicked his neck and I felt a sudden spike of fear in my gut but the fear, it didn’t come from me. It was coming from…. Eris.

Holy shit.

Willing all of my power to the surface, my tone turned cold, dangerous. “I suggest you step away from my mate.”

The High Lord of the Autumn Court. Eris fucking Vanserra. My mate.

I gave a tug in return to his emotions. A gentle reminder that I had this under control and he instantly tugged back.

He knew. Holy shit, he had known.

I could be angry later, now I needed to save his ass.

A commotion came from behind me. Adish and Apollo rushing in. “What the-“ Adish started. “Sorry, friend.” Apollo spoke before the fucker cast a sedation spell on him.

Apollo towered over me. “You weren’t supposed to find them. For what it’s worth, you would have been a great friend.”

He moved, but I moved faster. Sending a blast of power knocking the male on his ass. My shadows binding him.

“You talk too much.” I spat.

Turning back to Hem and Eris she held him in front of her. “Don’t make me kill him.” She spoke. Now using him as a shield. With his front exposed, I could see the shackles around his wrists. “This could go much more easily if you let me leave here with him. Why do you want a cheating male? You deserve better than that.”

I needed time to assess. My shadows busy with Apollo. Fuck. This was bad.

I laughed. “I hardly call you forcing yourself upon him ‘cheating’, in fact most would call that ‘assault’. And I have no patience for those who force themselves upon others.”

Just then a flurry of shadows shot into the room, ripping Hem’s wrist and dagger from Eris’ throat. My father winnowed into the room. No, this wasn’t my father. This was the feared Shadowsinger, the infamous Spymaster of the Night Court. His tone promised death as he commanded Hem to step away from Eris. She fought his demand, shaking with fear as she remained in place. “Please, you don’t understand. My father is wrongfully imprisoned in HIS court.”

“And this is how you feel it best to approach?” Father stepped closer, a thick, violent air emanating from him. “I will ask you one final time to step away from the High Lord.”

Hemera knew she was no match as she dropped the knife stepping back away from Eris.

Eris ran to me, in an attempt to shield me from any fallout but there was no more danger as father’s shadows apprehended the female.

Rhys and Feyre raced into the room, Nesta and Cassian on their tail.

Rhys whispered to Feyre. “Let Elain know it’s handled.”

Feyre’s gaze went distant as she communicated to my mother.

Rhys commanded Apollo to remove the sedation spell from Adish as Cassian jerked the apprehended male off the ground.

Nesta’s eyes flared with silver as she stared down Hemera before apprehending her as well. My mother and sister rushed in as we followed Rhys down to the gallery basement toward an empty office where the two would be held until Helion arrived. Since they were denizens of his court, it was only right to determine the next steps with him.

As the group strode toward the office, Azalea began tugging at my sleeve. “Sissy.”

“Not now, Azzie.”

She gasped, her little legs trying to keep up. “Sissy, please.”

“Just a minute, Azzie”

I felt guilty for ignoring her but my mind was coming out of the adrenaline state it had been in and my heart racing with rage and shock as I processed the revelation that Eris was my mate. That he knew and didn’t tell me.

Ironic considering that I always found Aunt Feyre and Aunt Nesta to be overly dramatic for their reactions to finding out about their own mates.

They were good, loving males who had enough money to live in lavish comfort for all of their days, and were highly regarded among the people of Velaris. How terrible.

Yet here I was. Fuming. Humiliated. That this male, a gorgeous High Lord and a damn good one at that, with a far softer heart than he’d ever let the world see, courted me because I was his mate.

I thought he wanted me for me.

“Sissy-“ Azalea drew me from my thoughts once again. “What?” I finally asked, raising my voice. But it was too late as the door to the empty office was opened, only to unveil a half naked Nyx, trousers unlaced, his body pinning a no longer shifted Layla with the bottom of her dress hiked up, and breasts fully exposed.

Nyx gaped. Eyes wide and frantic. I sent my shadows out to shield them, my father’s following suit, my hand instantly covering Azalea’s eyes.

Layla only pulled her dress up over her tits as she let out a laugh. “Whoops, we thought this room was unused.”

“I tried to tell you.” Azalea’s little voice whispered.

Darkness erupted through the room as Rhys clenched his fists. “What the fuck?” He growled out to Nyx.

My father only grinned, not caring who saw the smug satisfaction on his face. Fully conveying the look of that’s how it feels, you pompous asshole. Get it now? How’s it feel to be humiliated in front of an audience by the unconventional partner your child has chosen to fuck.

Feyre only covered her mouth, stifling a giggle at the situation. Nesta and mother quietly giggling with her.

I used the distraction to remove the enchanted shackles that were still stifling Eris’ power and apparently his ability to speak.

Fury blazed within me, my restraint failing as I spat out my next words much louder than intended.

“How long, Eris?”

Guilt flooded his features, his head hanging low.

“How. Long? How long have you known that I’m your mate?”

My father choked. The shit-eating grin instantly fading from his face, jaw and fists clenching.

A pitiful sound escaped Eris. “Since the first night… in the alley.”

“Wow.” was all I could manage as the walls began closing in around me.

I stepped away but Eris grabbed my wrist. “Please, Y/N. Just hear me out.” his broken voice pleaded. I couldn’t think. I needed space. Needed to breathe.

“Mom.” I looked to my mother. “Can we go home?”

She gave an empathetic look to Eris. “Come on, Azalea.” She reached out a hand. “Sissy needs us.”

Azalea looked to Eris, letting out a “hmph” as she scrunched her nose and crossed her arms. “That was bad.” She scolded, little wings ruffling with each word.

His face crumpled further as his little friend glared at him with disdain, words failing as she stuck her tongue out and winnowed away with mother.

“I love you.” was the last thing I heard as I spirited away.

———————————————-

A/N: I have had so much fun writing this series! Part 9 will be the final chapter but I may eventually give our main character a name and add a few spin off chapters as well. If that would be of interested to you, let me know!

Tags:

ACOTAR list: @lilah-asteria

Eris list: @angiedsv

Series list: @b0xerdancer-writes @myheartfollower @ang-taylorsversion @acotarobsessed @uniquecolorwizard @justasillylittlegoofyguy @thelov3lybookworm @starryhiraeth @5moremin @azrielsmate3 @coolepowersthings @isa1b2h3 @inloveallthetime @julesofvolterra @deeshag @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @courtofbatboydreams @yourmumsdumptruck @nebarious @glitterypirateduck @mybestfriendmademe

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LAST ONE OF THE WEEK!

129 for☠️:

---

 It does feel a little weird to be celebrating, given the reason for  his reinstatement. But everyone is clearly relieved to have him back. 

Bobby cooks an orange-ginger chicken dish that Athena personally loves. She swears his cooking has an extra special flavor to it, now that he’s back. There was just something missing about it, while he was away from his team. Athena sits between her husband and Hen, pleased with the food and the company. 

Down the table, she notices Buck and Eddie sitting very close together. Like shoulders touching, even as they eat. Eddie is saying something quietly to Buck, making him laugh boisterously. Really? Is it that funny, Buck?  They’re normally strange, but this seems a little excessive, even for them. 

Hmm. 

Athena remembers what Eddie said during that first night of police interviews.

He hasn’t liked me since he and Buck started dating, I don’t know why. We used to be friends.

She doesn’t know why she’s focusing on it. It’s probably nothing. 

After the meal, Bobby packs up leftovers. 

“Hen, you want me to put a container aside for school lunches?” Bobby asks. “It reheats well.”

“Oh, no thank you,” Hen replies. “I can’t actually. Mara is really allergic to sesame.” 

Hen and Karen only got Mara back a few weeks ago. It was a long and hard fight. Only made easier by the hospitalization and subsequent resignation of Olivia Ortiz after an event the city has dubbed “Bee-Nado.” Athena didn’t know a woman could survive so many bee stings. Evidently, there were some long term consequences. Athena would feel worse if she hadn’t made her friends’ lives hell, fighting for their daughter. 

“Oh, I didn’t know that,” Bobby says. 

“Yeah,” Hen sighs. “Guess she almost died in her group home, a couple of weeks in. She didn’t tell anyone because she wouldn’t talk, and… It was bad.”

“That’s so scary,” Athena frowns. “Poor little girl.”

Hen nods. “Luckily someone had an epipen.”

Athena can’t help but think of Gerrard. About the epipen that could have saved his life.

“Right,” she replies. “Luckily.”

▪️▪️▪️

The final thing that happens is silly, really. It doesn’t mean anything. Not really. 

Except Athena thinks it probably means quite a lot. 

A few days after her dinner at the firehouse, she’s grocery shopping. Usually Bobby’s chore, but he’s busy getting back into the swing of things. Still, he insists she go to his special supermarket. The one with the better bakery bread! So that’s where she goes. 

She is walking towards said bakery section, when she sees them. Or, scratch that. First, she hears them. Giggling like a couple of damn school girls.

“We don’t have any good reason to get whipped cream!”

“I can think of three fantastic reasons to get whipped cream.”

Athena turns towards the sound of their familiar voices and sees it. The very thing she had wondered about the other night. Buck and Eddie, walking hand in hand, lost in a sickeningly honeymoon phase-like bubble. It has been less than two weeks since Buck dumped Tommy. But these two seem awfully coupley. 

They freeze when they see her. Drop each other’s hands. As if they can deny it. And why should they, right? They haven’t done anything wrong. They’re allowed to date each other. Sure, Athena hadn’t known Eddie was interested in dating men at all, but that’s not a problem. And she suspects that’s not why Eddie looks caught red-handed. 

“Hi, Eddie. Hi, Buck,” she greets them. She’s not going to pretend she’s not thinking about what she’s looking at. 

“Oh, hey, A-Athena,” Buck stammers, cheeks going a little red. 

“Hey,” Eddie adds. 

“And how long has this been going on?” She asks them.

“Not long!” Buck insists. 

“Very new,” Eddie agrees. 

Those aren’t answers. At least not specific ones. 

“Mhm,” Athena nods. “Well, congratulations. I’m happy for you both. And happy you’re not taking that breakup too hard, Buck.”

Buck’s expression goes a little slack. 

That’s when Athena knows for sure. Something is wrong here.

v.

It would be easy to let a normal frame-job story play out in her head. So easy, in fact, that she’s surprised no one else has even considered it. Really, if they did do it, they did such a good job that they avoided all suspicion. If only they’d held out a little longer on the PDA. 

It would be easy to convince herself this was all Buck and Eddie. 

They were both miserable under Gerrard’s captaincy. They were in love with each other, but Buck had a boyfriend. Buck had access to Tommy’s kitchen. He could have swapped the pitchers. He could have lied about his knowledge of Gerrard’s allergy. He could have read the murder mystery party planning document as his boyfriend put together the event. He has his own allergy - naproxen. He could have had an epipen, an expired one. Buck could have done a lot of this. 

And that thought terrifies Athena. 

If Bobby’s reaction to Jonah and Tommy being killers had been bad? How will he take Buck? And Eddie as his willing accomplice?  He won’t. Simply, it will destroy him. Break his already fragile heart. Athena knows that. 

Maybe it’s with that in mind that she pokes holes in her own story. 

For one thing, why frame Tommy? Killing Gerrard and getting Tommy out of the picture seem like separate issues. Buck may have good reasons to hate Gerrard, but he’s not senselessly cruel. Why frame an innocent man he could have just dumped?

[access--granted]

Bad Timing

A/N: In honour of @lovely-whale-is-lovely for waiting 84 years for the fic request this is inspired by to be written, I wanted to share a small section that will be part of the final piece because I'm so excited to be writing Ghost for the first time! I hope you all enjoy this preview! 🤍 (Preview? Who am I kidding? No preview is over 1k words long 😂). Also, if anyone wants a song to accompany their read, here's the song I had on repeat at the time of writing this.

Pairing: Ghost x fem!reader

Genre: Fluff, minor angst (if you squint) AU based on canon, childhood friends AU.

TW: Mentions of blood and injury, cussing.

WC: 1,154 (so far, unbeta'd).

(Divider below created by rpinkling!)

Somehow, amongst all the madness, you and Ghost manage to find a quiet corner to recover from the shit that just went down with Graves. Your hands are still shaking, the sound of your heartbeat thrumming in your ears as adrenaline continues to pump through your veins.

Alejandro has been captured, Soap is missing, and you haven’t the faintest clue where Rudolfo is either. You consider yourself lucky that Ghost managed to keep you with him during your escape. He’s always been fast, moving swiftly like a shadow in the night, but the fact he could save you at the same time– it blows your mind. 

You didn’t come out of the confrontation unscathed, though. You’re currently sporting a bullet wound. Nothing too gruesome, and thankfully, the bullet didn’t enter your body - it just left a nasty graze on your right arm. 

“I can’t believe Graves… he really turned on you guys,” you mumble, following Ghost inside a small cafe. The place is completely ransacked, with broken glass everywhere, chairs and tables tipped over, and the crumpled, bloodied body of who you assume was the owner slumped against the counter - a bullet hole right through the centre of his head. The only light filtering in is that of the street lamps outside, making the atmosphere all the more unsettling.

“Always expect the unexpected,” Ghost says in response, his voice but a mutter as shards of glass crunch beneath his boots. 

You stop just a fraction behind him, arching a brow at the back of his head, scoffing.

“You can’t seriously tell me you could’ve ever seen that coming.”

“If there’s one key thing in this line of work, it’s to never be surprised,” Ghost looks at you over his shoulder, and you can see his eyes latch on to the blood staining your arm. “You got hit.”

“Just a scrape,” you shrug, “I’ll survive.” Reaching up with your left hand, you swipe a trickle of the red, viscous liquid away from your skin, stopping it in its trail. 

“Such a tough cookie you are.”

“Shut it.” 

The two of you share a slight chuckle, the air around you somehow both thick with tension yet calm at the same time despite the carnage surrounding you. 

Without a word, Ghost reaches into one of his hip pouches, pulling out a small, rolled-up bandage as he steps closer to you. Usually, you’d already be insisting that you’re okay and don’t need any assistance, but you and Ghost have known each other since childhood. You looked out for each other back then, and he still keeps that train going to this very day.

“Here, let me,” he says, his husky voice carrying a tender tone. You don’t make a single peep of denial at his request and angle your arm outward slightly to make the job of wrapping the bandage around your wound easier for him. 

It’s deafeningly quiet while Ghost tends to your arm, though it’s only a matter of time before Graves and the rest of Shadow Company will be hot on your heels. You’d heard his command during your getaway. 

‘Find 'em!’ That was his order, and he doesn’t strike you as the kind of man to give up on what he wants so quickly. That much was evident the moment he announced his takeover of Los Vaqueros’ base. 

“What’s ‘a matter, soldier?” Ghost’s voice breaks through your thoughts, tearing them apart like a sheet of paper. “Don’t get too lost in your own head, darlin’. We need to stay focused,” he says, winding the bandage around your arm, “There’s a shit storm coming.”

“You got that right.” You scoff, letting your eyes land on Ghost’s face again. His gaze shifts up to meet yours, his thumb tucking the end of the bandage in. You can’t gauge what kind of expression he’s wearing beneath his dirtied mask, but his eyes seem so gentle. He looks at you in a way that makes your chest flourish with warmth right from the very space your heart beats. 

Your eyes fix on a smear of blood at the bottom of Ghost’s mask, a dark splotch staining the already discoloured fabric just beneath the skull fixture.

“It’s unlike you to get nicked,” you remark, reaching up with both hands to bunch the fabric between grimy fingers. His right hand comes up to grip your wrist as if to stop you, but you only stare at him intently. “Simon, it’s just me.”

The use of his name and the reassurance make his breath stagger a little. Mumbling a quiet, ‘Right’,  his grip loosens on your wrist. 

Pushing his mask up a bit, you only do so enough to reveal the bottom half of his face, stubble freckling his chin and around his mouth, a scar across the space below his right cheek. It’s been a while since you’ve seen his face, and his body language screams nervous with his scrunched-up shoulders and stiff stance. So, you ignore the temptation in your head, screaming at you to take the mask off altogether.

His bottom lip is split and bleeding, bruising around the edges of the minor yet nasty-looking injury. Something like an elbow— or the butt of a gun must have struck him before.

“Well, the good news is, you’re gonna live.”

“Ain’t that just tickety-boo,” Ghost replies dryly, making you laugh. His posture slacks, his shoulders unwinding from his momentary tension.

Your fingers brush along his jawline, an incredibly tender gesture on your part. Seeing the skin beneath his mask, catching his lips and the tip of his nose, the depth of his cupid’s bow - it all reminds you that he’s real. He’s not his mask. Ghost– Simon… is real. 

The heels of your feet lift from the floor, your mind too far gone and caught up in the moment to even notice the move you’re making. Now is hardly the time for this, but being with him again after so long brings about emotions you weren’t prepared for. 

Ghost clears his throat, placing a hand on your side. This brings you back to earth, as does the way he, without force, eases you back down until you’re no longer tip-toeing. 

“We should track Soap down,” he says, a hint of regret in his voice, “I think he’s worse off than we are right now.” After pulling his mask back down, Ghost reaches for his radio.

You stand a few inches away now, nodding silently as you sweep messy wisps of hair away from your eyes, hoping you hadn’t just made a mistake - hoping it was just a case of bad timing. There’s no way Ghost hadn’t wanted to kiss you as much as you did him. The fact he allowed it to get so far before stopping you speaks volumes all on its own.

So, yes. It had just been bad timing.

... But next time, you will get your kiss.

▪︎

Copyright to this fanfic belongs to access--granted. Please do not repost here or elsewhere. Do not edit this work or feed this work to AI.

Thank you for reading!

[thoroughlymodernminutia]

This Christmas - Prequel

Pairing: Benny "Borracho" Magalon x F!Reader

Word count: 8,219

Summary: This is a prequel of sorts to this from last year. It’s basically the how Benny and the reader met, etc

Warnings: Mostly Hallmark-style fluffy stuff, lots of pining, but brief mention of loss, guilt, some foul language. If I missed anything else let me know and I'll add it in. 

A/N: I don’t know folks, I started writing this and was really chugging along and had a whole plan for how I wanted this to be. Then I got sick with everyone’s favorite illness from 2020 and lost a lot steam. I found, I think, a happy compromise with myself because I wanted to post this before Christmas (self imposed deadlines am I right?) and realized I can always I don’t know, post more parts of it later?? I am my own worst critic so if you read this and it isn’t your jam, please don’t say anything lol I’ve probably already thought it, so it would be redundant! Also, clearly, I do not know the proper use of a semicolon, or an em dash and I don't have an editor, so we'll all just have to deal. Anyways, Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, all that jazz

-----------

It’s a little after six in the morning and they still haven’t rolled in. Usually, the five of them would have been here for an hour already; a few hungover, one still drunk, and the fifth one acting like an adult babysitter for the other four. It’s weird how this happens–people come into your little donut shop and after a while, instead of you becoming part of their routine, they become part of yours. Eventually they start to feel like stand-ins for the friends you hardly ever get to see. You’re busy with your business and they’re busy with their jobs and families.

It could feel lonely, but you have people like Noreen, who comes in every Friday to buy three dozen assorted donuts for her team. Noreen is kind and not the type of person you envision working at a private equity firm. When you were thinking about expanding into the small space next door, she looked at your plan and helped you figure out where you were being too aggressive and in some cases too shortsighted. She didn’t ask for anything in return, but you made sure her next three dozen donuts were on the house. 

There’s Will, a retired teacher, who comes in every Sunday. He used to come in with his partner, Charles, and they would sit at the table you have set up near the front window. They traded off different sections of the newspaper while drinking their coffee and sharing one old-fashioned donut and one raspberry jelly donut; they never strayed from those. Charles passed away six months ago and it was unexpected. You didn’t expect to see Will for a while, but routine is hard to give up especially when it’s the only thing you have left. Every Sunday morning you set a 'reserved' sign on the table near the window. 

There’s Stuart, who hangs out in the plaza your shop is located in. You’re not sure if he’s unhoused or just likes to spend his day outside, but it felt strange to always see him and not interact with him. One day you invited him to come by for coffee and a donut but he turned you down. You told him the offer was good for any time and that you hoped you’d see him in there soon. He came in a few days later and it made you feel like you were doing some good; and then you felt bad for feeling like that. Stuart’s reserved and not much of a talker so you just let him sit at a table while you go about your work. Some days he’ll start a conversation; it’s rare but it feels like you both trust each other enough to make more than small talk. If you don’t see him in his usual spot outside, you worry. He usually turns up a few days later, but you're concerned that at some point he won’t turn up and what are you supposed to do then?

There’s a handful of people that fall into this category of if they never came back you would notice. It’s because some of them are smart and kind like Noreen. Some because they sit in the same spot, newspaper sections still divided in two, like Will. Some because their silence fills your little shop, like Stuart. And some whose absence you would notice because they don’t fit into these boxes. Sometimes they can be loud or irritating; but they can also be entertaining. And they’re are always five of them, but only one that makes you feel like you’re thirteen and just saw your middle school crush.

They started coming in sometime in February. You only remember because the biggest one said he’s 'not eating a fucking, prissy, heart-shaped donut.' Some men are like that, afraid if they come in contact with something feminine that’s not a woman, that their dick will fall off. He was loud and obnoxious and only one of the other four looked truly embarrassed for the guy and for himself. He apologized for his friend and ordered five large coffees and a dozen glazed donuts. 

“You sure glazed are going to be manly enough for your friend over there?” 

You ticked your head over towards the table where his friends were sitting. He laughed and it was a surprisingly warm laugh for a man with neck tattoos. 

“He won’t even remember being here, let alone what kind of donuts he ate.”

He sounded annoyed but used to the behavior. You remembered having friends like that, in your twenties, but you were well past that age and so were these guys by the look of it. You saw him eyeing an apple fritter so you grabbed it from the case, put it on a plate, and set it on the counter next to the box of donuts. 

“On the house, since it doesn’t look like you’re getting paid for your babysitting duties.”

He smiled, said thank you, and then went to sit with his loud friends. You noticed he was quiet in comparison and thought it would be nice if they were all quiet like that. 

When they were getting ready to leave you saw that the quiet one made sure all the trash was thrown away and all the dishes went into the right bin. At the door as they were leaving he gave you a small wave thanking you again. There was something about his smile that made it feel like flowers were blooming in your stomach. That feeling carried you for a week. You’d think of that moment of him at the door and a fog would enter your brain and the flowers in your stomach would grow larger. 

The feeling would start to subside after a while and you would get caught up in your real life–your business, the rare time with your friends, the occasional bad date. It would slowly drift from the front of your mind to the back. Then they would show up and the cycle would continue. 

The one who had the soft smile and neck tattoo, you learned his name was Benny. And that if you gave him a choice between the apple fritter and anything else, he would choose the apple fritter one hundred percent of the time. The loud drunk, that was Big Nick and he’s only been not drunk five percent of the time they’ve come in. There’s Connors, Zapata, and Henderson–you’ve only heard them referred to by their last names. A thing that you’ve only ever heard men do. They all come in once or twice a month–usually early, usually hungover. It makes you wonder what they do before they end up at your place. You never ask because to know would be to probably ruin your crush on Benny.

Benny always pays and there’s a part of you that hopes he’s doing it just for the chance to talk to you. When he leaves he always gives you a wave goodbye and a thanks again. The flowers in your stomach have bloomed and blossomed to an embarrassing degree by the end of May. And that’s when they stopped coming in. 

—-

Benny shakes his head no at Connor’s who’s trying to hand him a beer, “Not feeling it tonight.”

Benny isn’t feeling it any night, but he keeps that to himself. The drinking, the cocaine, the women, none of it interests him and it hasn’t for a while. Since February if he’s being honest with himself. 

They had ended up at your donut shop, Glazy for You under random circumstances. The usual place they would go to sober up after one of these parties had been closed down by the health department. He should have known it was bound to happen, the place was dim and oddly seedy for a diner. Benny was the designated driver that night, since he hadn’t been feeling well he didn’t drink and spent most of the night ushering random women out of a grim motel room. When he saw Glazy for You as he was driving by, it looked like the complete opposite of his evening; it was bright, there were Valentine’s decorations on the window. It looked comforting and warm, two things he felt like he was missing in his life.

Nick of course was an asshole and Benny felt like he spent a lot of time silently apologizing to you. His apologies must have entered you mind telepathically because you gave him an apple fritter–the best apple fritter he’s ever had in his whole fucking life. There must have been some kind of magic in because that moment lodged itself somewhere in his heart and reappears when he’s feeling low. Like now–sitting in this motel room, on this couch that probably hasn’t been cleaned in two decades, watching his friends lose their fucking minds over shit they should have outgrown. 

Benny hasn’t seen you in months, ninety-seven days to be exact, not that he’s counting. They’ve been working on one case after the next and it’s left time for little else. No post drug test parties, no early mornings sitting in a donut shop waiting for everyone to sober up, no you. It’s been sleep and work for three months straight. Last time he saw you, it seemed like you were happy to see him. Maybe he imagined that feeling; misunderstood the warmth in your smile. Maybe that’s the smile that you’ve practiced in order to be able to perform it for everyone. Maybe everyone feels what he feels when they see you.

Benny sinks further into the couch and looks up at the ceiling. It’s a drop ceiling which brings back memories of a case he had worked on. While securing a crime scene, they were in the living room of a run down apartment. It had this same type of ceiling and a body fell right through it onto the floor. He thinks that maybe this is how it ended up being called a drop ceiling, because shit just drops right out. That thought, that memory makes him realize that he doesn’t want to be in this room anymore. He gets up, grabs his jacket off the back of the couch, and leaves. He hears Connors call after him as he’s closing the door but he doesn’t care. He only has one place that he wants to be right now.

—-

You’re putting a tray of bear claws in the display case when you hear the door open. It’s still early, the sun is barely up, pink and purple hues are still in the sky. You get a lot of municipal workers that come in at this time, barely past opening. So it’s a little bit of a surprise when you get a glimpse through the display case of Benny walking in, alone.

There’s a second while you’re crouched down, adjusting the tray that you let yourself be excited; allow yourself to give into the childish feeling of getting a glimpse of your crush. Your knees are wobbly as you stand up–unsure if it’s because you’re getting old or because he’s looking right at you.

“Oh hey, how’ve you been?” You wipe your palms on the front of the apron you’re wearing. “It’s been a while.”

You try to sound neutral, neither excited to see him or disappointed that it's been so long. He smiles and that familiar sensation of flowers blooming returns. 

“We’ve been working on a lot of cases and it’s been hard to find time for anything else.” 

You lean forward and rest your arms on top of the bakery case. 

“Cases? You guys are lawyers?” As the words leave your mouth you realize how truly stupid it sounds. You’ve never in your life seen any lawyers that look like these guys. 

Benny chuckles and rubs the back of his neck, something he does when feels embarrassed or self conscious.

“No, definitely not lawyers. Detectives. We work for the Los Angeles Sheriff’s Department.”

You fail at suppressing a laugh, “I’m sorry. All of you are detectives? Even your friend Nick?”

Benny knows your laugh isn’t mean spirited and if he were you, he’d probably laugh too, knowing what he knows about the people he works with. He moves closer to display case and leans in. 

“Even Nick. You seem surprised.”

“It’s just. I.” You pause, trying to choose your words with care, because you like Benny and you don’t want to insult him, “I mean, it’s hard to imagine being a victim of a crime or something and like Nick is the person taking your statement, trying to help you. That is my nightmare.”

You hope you don’t sound like an asshole, but the idea of Nick serving and protecting seems like a stretch. If you offend Benny, he doesn’t show it, he just laughs.

“The way that you’ve seen him, I can understand the sentiment. He’s not like that a hundred percent of the time. I promise.” 

You give Benny a joking look, “Okay, but what percentage are we talking here?”

You’re both laughing when the rest of the guys walk in. The rowdiness is a shock to your system after not dealing with it for a while. You look at Benny and he’s no longer leaning in towards you and maybe you’re projecting, but you think he looks a little disappointed too.

Benny’s disappointed, but he tries his best to hide it. The guys may be drunk, but they are cops and they are perceptive. Benny already knows he has a reputation among them as being soft. It used to bother him, but it hasn’t for a while. He knows he would rather be soft than be the type of man that can’t feel anything other than bitterness and rage. 

“Borracho, you fucking asshole, you left us.”

Nick, is of course loud and slurring his words. Benny hopes you can’t understand Spanish–he doesn’t want to be known as a ‘drunk’ to you.

Benny turns from you to look at the guys. Connors is propping Nick up; Henderson and Zapata are stumbling towards a table. 

“I was hungry.”

Benny hopes it’s enough to shut Nick up. He knows it’s not because he sees Nick loosen himself from Connors and stumble towards him. He claps a large, drunk hand on Benny’s shoulder and the force almost knocks him backwards. 

“Fuck, Borracho. You’re no fun anymore.”

Nick is a mess and that’s not really that surprising to you. What is surprising is how uncomfortable Benny looks. He has the look of a man who would give anything to disappear. You can’t really blame him, these guys, Nick especially, are exhausting to be around and you only deal with them for a few hours a month.

“Can I get you guys something or are you just going to loiter?”

Benny looks towards you and you give him a sympathetic smile. He shakes Nick off of him and is about to order when Nick lurchers towards the counter that you’re standing behind. You step back as he unsuccessfully tries to paw at you.

“I know what you can get me, sweetheart.”

Benny groans and runs a hand over his face, “Jesus Christ, Nick. Shut the fuck up.”

You step closer to the counter and lean forward, putting a hand on Nick’s shoulder.

“What did I tell you about calling me ‘sweetheart’?”

Nick tilts his head to the side and mutters, “That the next time I do it, you’ll put my head in the deep fryer.”

You pat his shoulder, “Good, you remember.”

You hear Zapata, Henderson, and Connors–who’s joined them at their table laughing and chanting do it, do it.

You gently push Nick away from the counter, “Go sit down unless you’re willing to see if I’m serious.” You look over at Benny, who no longer looks like he wants to disappear. “Benny, five coffees and a dozen glazed, right?”

Benny nods his head, “Yeah, that’s good.”

Nick turns around and starts walking towards where Connors, Zapata, and Henderson are sitting. He jerks his thumb back towards you, “She’s no fun either.”

Benny feels awkward standing here, watching you gingerly place twelve glazed donuts in a box and then pour five large coffees. It’s calming though, watching you do routine things, like you’re slowly rooting out the anxiety of being around drunk idiots. You put the coffees in a tray and place it down on the counter next to the donuts. 

Benny pulls out his wallet to pay, “Uh, sorry,” he pauses, he’s sorry about a lot suddenly, “sorry about Nick. He was acting like an asshole.”

You shrug and hand Benny his change, “Don’t worry about it.”

Benny is sitting with the guys and can’t help feeling like he’s messed something up. You didn’t give him an apple fritter like you normally do. He wonders if you’re mad that he didn’t do something more when Nick was acting like an asshole. Maybe he’s overthinking it–he can’t expect you to give him a free donut every time you see him. It’s possible he’s misread the situation entirely, that you’re just friendly and nothing more. He watches you behind the counter adjusting things, bagging up donuts for customers that have come in. When Benny checks his watch for the time, he misses seeing you slip an apple fritter in a bag and write 'Benny' in a tidy script. 

You watch the guys start filtering out of your place; Nick and Connors are first and from the store window you can see them getting into separate cabs. Benny is still throwing trash away as Henderson and Zapata leave. They share a cab and you imagine that maybe they rallied enough to start drinking again at 7:30am. You see Benny heading towards the door and it looks like he’s leaving without giving his usual wave goodbye. Your stomach sinks a little–maybe he’s mad at you for not joking around more with Nick or the other guys. Or it could just be that he’s tired and wants to go home and you’re creating feelings that aren’t there. 

You grab the bag with the apple fritter from below the counter and hold it up, “Hey, you forgot something.”

Benny looks at the bag with his name on it–it’s the nicest handwriting he’s ever seen. He walks over to the counter and takes the bag from your hand, your fingers overlapping for a fraction of a second. 

“So this means you’re not mad at me?”

“Why would I be mad at you? Wait, you think because of Nick?” You look at him strangely as he nods his head yes, “He’s the idiot, I’m not going to hold that against you.”

Benny smiles, “That’s good to know.” He starts walking away, but stops when he gets to the door, holding up the bag with the donut, “Thanks again. I’ll see you later.”

“Take care, Benny.”

—-

“You like that girl at the donut place?”

It sounds less like Connors is asking you a question and more like stating a fact. Benny’s a little caught off guard and pretends to start looking for something on his desk.

“What?” 

Benny tries to sound confused, like he’s never even heard the word donut before.

“At the donut place. The girl who runs it, are you into her or something? You always act fucking weird when we’re in there.”

Benny thinks back to all the times they’ve been at Glazy for You, trying to remember his behavior. Did he look at you for too long? Say ‘goodbye’ in a way that sounded like he didn’t want to leave. Benny opens the bottom drawer of his desk and pretends to look for something. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”��

Benny knows he doesn’t sound convincing and Connors must hear it too because he keeps going.

“Really?” Connors sounds incredulous. “You’re always lingering at the counter. She’s always giving you free donuts. Any of this ringing a bell for you?”

Benny can feel Connors staring at him. He closes the desk drawer and goes back to looking at the file on his desk.

“Maybe she likes giving away free donuts. I really couldn’t tell you.”

Connors crumbles a piece of paper into a ball and lobs it at Benny’s head, hitting him just behind the ear. 

“Whatever you say asshole.”

—-

The summer goes by quickly–it’s one of your busier seasons. School is out, the weather is nice–there are day camps, company off-sites, and sleepovers. All the types of occasions where the people in charge don’t want to make breakfast but need to provide it. Benny and the guys come in a few times throughout the summer. It feels a little different from before. Benny doesn’t linger at the counter as much anymore and sometimes one of the other guys pays. It’s stupid little things that you shouldn’t notice, but you do, because they used to be part of your routine. It’s embarrassing thinking you let this crush on Benny become such a big part of your life that you’d notice he didn’t pay last time or the time before that. It’s that embarrassment that makes you start building a wall around that garden in your stomach so the flowers can’t reach your heart.

It’s the end of October when you’re opening up one morning and it registers for you that you haven’t seen Stuart since some time around June or July. His absence gnaws at you. You feel like a bad person for not noticing sooner; that feeling that you failed someone even though they weren’t your responsibility. You don’t know what to do or if there’s anything you actually can do. So when you see Benny a few weeks later it feels like a little bit of a last resort when you ask for his help.

—-

You were hoping that Benny would be the person paying this time when they all came in, so you could mention Stuart without having to pull him aside. But he doesn’t and it makes you a little anxious trying to figure out the best way to talk to him about something serious. So it’s a relief when it looks like he’s going to be the last one to leave. He’s behind Connors and when Connors makes it out the door, you stop Benny who’s close behind.

“Benny, hey. Do you have a second?”

You come out from behind the counter, nervously smoothing the apron tied around your waist in short downward strokes. Benny stops and lets the door go from his hand. You look upset and he hopes it’s not because he’s been acting standoffish lately. Ever since Connors asked about you, he’s been trying his best to act normal–whatever that means–around you. 

“Did Connors’s card get declined again?”

You let out a small laugh, “No. Um, I was actually wondering if you could help me with something.”

Benny steps a little closer to you. You have some powdered sugar on your cheek and he has to stop himself from brushing it off. 

“Yeah, of course. What’s going on?”

“This is probably going to sound weird, or stupid. Maybe both. But there’s this  guy who h—”

Benny cuts you off; his voice is a little rougher, “If someone is bothering you, I’ll take care of it.”

You laugh awkwardly, “Oh no, it’s nothing like that. It’s this guy, Stuart. He usually hangs out around here and I have him come in sometimes for coffee or donuts and I haven’t seen him in…since maybe July, I think? I’m just a little worried.” You pause and try to read Benny’s face to see what he’s thinking, “Sorry, this probably sounds stupid to you. I don’t even know what I’m asking.”

Benny scratches his jaw piecing together what he thinks you’re getting at, “Do you know his last name?”

You notice that Benny’s voice has gone back to the soft tone that you’re used to. He’s looking at you with compassion and not like you’re stupid or some kind of burden. Benny is the kind of person that you would want helping you in a crisis and it makes you wish there were more people like him in his line of work.

“I don’t, but I printed a photo from the security camera I have.” You walk over to the counter and lean over, grabbing the photo from under the register. “I don’t even know if you can do anything with that. I watch a lot of crime shows. Don’t judge me.”

Benny laughs and shakes his head as you hand him the photo.

“I don’t want to get your hopes up, but I’ll see what I can find out.”

“Yeah of course. It’s…I don’t know. I’d feel like a bad person if something were to happen to him and I could have helped.”

Benny feels bad because he knows how these things generally end up. Usually there are no happy endings.

“You can’t put that on yourself.”

You nod your head, “I know, but still, you know?”

Benny understands the feeling and also understands it’s easier to tell someone something isn’t their fault than to know it yourself. 

As Benny leaves you start to feel a bit lighter. Like someone has taken some of your worry, some of your concern and is carrying it for you; so you aren’t so weighed down.

—-

“What was that about?”

Benny is surprised to see Connors waiting for him in the parking lot. 

“Nothing. Well, I guess there’s some guy, homeless, I don’t know. He usually hangs out around here. She hasn’t seen him for a while. She’s worried.”

Connors flicks a cigarette on to the pavement, “Figures she’s one of those bleeding heart types. What did you tell her?”

Benny pats his jacket and then his pants pockets feeling around for a pack of cigarettes, forgetting briefly that he’s trying to quit. Connors pulls his pack from his pocket and tosses them to Benny.

Benny pulls a cigarette out, “I told her I’d look into it.”

Connors laughs and hands Benny a lighter, “Chump.” He waits a beat for Benny to light his cigarette, “But, if you want. We can start looking into it now.”

Benny’s grateful it’s Connors out here and not one of the other guys. Benny and Connors go back further than just Major Crimes and he’s someone Benny would trust with his life.

—-

Benny’s worried that he’s going to have to deliver you bad news. Best case scenario seems like Stuart is in jail. Not great, but it would mean that he’s alive. Worst case scenario is that he can’t find Stuart and that usually doesn’t mean anything good. Benny is suddenly hoping for some kind of miracle for a person he doesn’t even know. 

The photo you gave him does turn out to be useful. Connors is able to find him in the system through facial recognition. Stuart Morton has a record; a few arrests for driving while under the influence and some time in a county jail. Benny is able to get a last known address but it’s over a year old. It’s a sober living house that’s not actually that far from Glazy for You. He doesn’t have much hope that going there will bring him any closer to finding Stuart. 

It takes a couple of weeks, but Benny is finally able to meet with David, the director of the sober living facility. He finds it’s better to meet with people in person. Talking with people over the phone, he’s learned, makes it easier for them to not give you the information you need. David of course is a little guarded at first with Benny; not wanting to share anything that could get Stuart in trouble, which Benny can’t really fault him for. Benny explains the situation, that the owner of a donut shop near here is worried because they haven’t seen him in a while. When Benny mentions your name to David, he lights up.

“Her glazed old fashioneds are the best ones in this entire state.” He pauses and to Benny it looks like he’s getting lost in the memory of a donut, a feeling he knows well. 

“I didn’t realize you two knew each other.” 

David turns away from Benny to look through a drawer in a filing cabinet, “Just this year we got to talking and she’s been generous enough to donate breakfast here every month. And recently she’s been working with us on a job training program at her bakery.” 

Benny thinks back to Connors calling you a ‘bleeding heart’ and is glad he came here by himself. 

“She didn’t mention anything about knowing Stuart lived here.”

David pulls a folder from the cabinet and thumbs through it, “Stuart is the type to not overshare, so that doesn’t surprise me.” He pauses to write something down on a piece of paper and hands it to Benny, “Here. This is his sister Noreen’s information. When he left, he was going to be staying with her for a while. Might still be there.”

Benny barely makes it to his car before calling the number that David gave him. 

—-

“Wait, so you’re saying that Noreen, the Noreen that comes in here, is Stuart’s sister?”

It’s late in the day, near the time that you close up. You and Benny are sitting across from each other at the table near the window. It’s hard to believe what he’s telling you, that Stuart used to be a resident at the sober living facility, the one where David works; that Noreen is Stuart’s sister and somehow all these dots never got connected for you.

“She didn’t realize that you two were,” Benny pauses looking for the right word, “friends. She feels terrible that you didn’t know he had moved out of the state and were worried. She said he’s doing well.”

You’re quiet for a moment, trying to take in everything Benny has been telling  you. It’s a lot to process, considering you had been preparing yourself to hear bad news. You can feel your eyes fuzzy with a few tears and feel a little embarrassed to be getting so emotional over the good news.

“It’s such a relief to know that he’s doing okay.” You feel a tear slide down your cheek and quickly brush it away hoping that Benny didn’t see it.

Benny can tell you’re trying to keep yourself from crying and he wants to tell you that it’s okay, that there wouldn’t be any judgment from him. He has the overwhelming urge to wrap his arms around you, but he knows it would be wildly inappropriate. He feels awkward sitting here, looking around, trying to figure out what he should say.

“I like the Christmas decorations you have up.” It’s lame and he knows it, but it seems better than freaking you out with a hug. You smile at him and that feels reassuring.

“You do?” You look over at Benny, nodding his head, “I know it makes me basic, but I love Christmas. The lights, the decorations, the movies, the music. Expect to see a lot of green and red frosted donuts until December 31st.” 

Benny laughs, “I’m looking forward to it.” He looks at his watch and starts to get up, “I should probably leave, so you can close up.”

You get up and follow Benny to the door, you put your hand on Benny’s forearm to stop him for a second and he feels a little spark through this jacket.

“Thank you, again, for everything.”

“I’m glad I could help. And that everything turned out okay.”

You’re not sure what it is that compels you to hug him, but you do. Maybe it’s the gentleness of his voice, or how he’s looking at you in a way he hasn’t before. It feels intimate and dreamy and it’s hard for you to recall the last time anyone has looked at you like that. It happens so fast that Benny barely has time to register what happened.

It hits him as he’s walking to his car–the delayed feeling of your arms around him. It strikes Benny that maybe there’s a chance you like him, that maybe you’re both kind of stupid and clumsy, and afraid to ask the other one out. There’s the realization that one of you will have to make the first move or it will go on like this forever. That he will see you every few months at your job, that he’ll get a free donut occasionally. It’s not enough for Benny and he knows that he can’t be stupid about this much longer.

—-

It’s the last piss test party of the year–the week before Christmas. The concept is idiotic–sure it made sense at one point when Benny wasn’t wading into the deep end of forty. Going to a cheap hotel to get drunk and high, have sex with women that Nick found God knows where. It was never appealing to Benny but he used to understand the idea of celebrating after your mandatory drug test. Now he usually just sits, drinks a beer or two, and tries to avoid contact with everyone. There’s something especially depressing about it during this time of year.

Benny’s spent the last few days mulling over the best way to ask you out. He regrets not asking you when he was giving you the news about Stuart. Although there’s a part of him that thinks maybe you would have felt obligated to say yes given the circumstances. He thinks about asking you tonight, if they end up there, but he doesn’t want to do it in front of the guys because you might feel obligated then too, maybe even feeling sorry for him and not wanting to embarrass him in front of everyone by saying no. If you say yes, he wants it to be because you actually mean it, he doesn’t want there to be any room for doubt.

His decision is made for him, because when they get to Glazy for You, you aren’t there. Benny can’t remember if there’s ever been a time when you haven’t been there, behind the counter, greeting him warmly. It’s a little bit of a shock to his system to see a middle-aged man in a goofy Christmas sweater in your place. Benny’s good at thinking up doomsday scenarios and imagines one in which you’re trying to avoid him, so you no longer work this early in the morning. But then he thinks of when you hugged him and that even though it was quick, it was like your touch had gone directly to his heart. He doesn’t stay much longer, opting to go home, lay in his bed, and try to figure out what he’s going to do.

—- 

You used to hate working during the holidays. Maybe it’s because you were working for other people and not yourself. Maybe it was because the work you were doing felt unimportant and people expected you to care even when everything else around you was winding down. Five years ago the thought of working on Christmas Eve would have made you want to walk into traffic. Now it feels different, like maybe you’re contributing to the holiday experience versus missing out on it entirely. You’ve always loved Christmas, but Christmas Eve is your favorite day of the year. It just feels more special somehow. There’s anticipation and excitement in the air. It’s possible it’s a product of all the Christmas movies you’ve watched over the years where there’s the idea that anything seems possible on this day. There’s something about the idea of your life changing for the better, surrounded by twinkle lights and ornaments that you find very appealing.

The morning is kind of slow–you spend most of it watching holiday episodes of tv shows on your phone. Around 11am you start cleaning up–taking trays out of cases, boxing up the donuts that are left to drop off at the comic book shop next door. You’re looking forward to going home and laying on the couch the rest of the day, queuing up your standard Christmas Eve movies. You’re ready to watch Scrooged and feel abnormally homesick, but then put on Christmas Vacation and remember why it’s never a good idea to spend Christmas with your entire family.

You’re in the back when you hear the bell on the door jingle, letting you know someone is out front. You consider just staying where you are, pretending no one is here so you can wrap up your day. You don’t want to have to tell anyone that you can’t help them with their donut emergency–getting yelled at on Christmas Eve is not something you’ve prepared yourself for today. So it’s a pleasant surprise when you make your way back out to the front and you see Benny.

“Hey, this is a—hi.” You’re not sure why you’re suddenly unable to put together a decent sentence.

Benny rubs the back of his neck with his hand, “Is this a bad time?”

“No. No, well. I mean, unless you were looking for a few dozen donuts. Then it definitely is.”

Benny smiles, “Actually,  I, um, was,” he pauses and tries to collect himself, he can suddenly feel his heart beating in his ears, “I wanted to ask you out. On a date.” The feeling has spread to his skull.

When he says it, it’s almost like the words traveled through your brain and you can’t comprehend what’s actually happening. Benny, the guy you’ve been harboring your fragile middle school crush on, is here asking you out. It makes little, if any sense to you.

“Are you just trying to get more free donuts?”

Benny shakes his head no, “I promise I’m not.”

You’re quiet as you consider what he’s asked–trying to reprocess the information in your mind so that it makes sense. When all the words are finally in place and you repeat them in your mind, you feel some of those flowers that you’d walled up in your stomach starting to push through the cracks.

“Yeah, okay.” You grab a business card from the counter, write your number on the back, and hand it to Benny.

Benny’s not sure he’s ever heard anything better than yeah, okay in his life, it’s like a bolt of lightning right to his core. He puts the card with your number in the chest pocket of his jacket, the safest place he can think of.

“Great. Amazing.” Benny laughs nervously. “I need to get back to work. I’ll text you.” 

“Okay. Well, have a good Christmas, Benny.” 

“You too.” 

Benny gives his standard small wave as he leaves and you lock the door after him. When he’s out of sight you let out a squeal and excitedly dance in place. Your phone vibrating in your back pocket interrupts you mid-happy dance. 

Hey, it’s Benny. Are you free for dinner on the 27th at 7?

Benny watches dots appear and then disappear on his phone. It feels a little bit like torture as he sits in his truck waiting for you to respond.

 Dinner on the 27th at 7 sounds great

Benny releases a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, Let me think of a place and I’ll text you the address

Sounds good. And you meant Dec 27th right?

Benny laughs to himself, Yes dec 27. I’m not going to wait until jan to take you to dinner

Just making sure 🙂

You read his last text at least ten more times before finally going back into the kitchen like you had intended. Each time you read it, there’s a sensation in your stomach like bricks dissolving and flowers blooming again.

—-

Benny texts you on the morning of the 26th with a restaurant name and an address. You already have the sense that he’s different, the type of person who has follow-through. You try to temper your excitement about dinner with him, not wanting to do that thing you sometimes do where you make something out to be more than it is. You keep telling yourself that it’s just dinner, nothing more. But as you pull up to the restaurant a few minutes late and see Benny standing outside, looking nervous in dark denim and a green flannel, you let yourself think that maybe it could be a little more than just dinner. 

“Sorry I’m a little late, I hope you weren’t waiting long?”

Benny smiles when he sees you standing in front of him, “I just got here a few minutes ago.” 

It’s a lie; the last one he’ll tell tonight; but he doesn’t want you to know that he was so amped up about this evening that he got to the restaurant thirty minutes early. On the way in, when you pass in front of him, your perfume delicately floats by him. It’s earthy, but slightly sweet, with cinnamon and vanilla blending neatly in–he’s sure it’s the most beautiful thing that he’s ever smelled. 

It’s a French restaurant, one that you’ve never been to before, but it’s cozy and still in the Christmas spirit. There are multicolored lights strung up and silver tinsel hanging from the ceiling. 

“Have you been here before?” Looking at Benny from across the table and you can see flecks of silver in his facial hair catching the light of the candle on the table. 

“My sister and her husband had their tenth anniversary party here last year. Most of my restaurant choices come from wherever she has an anniversary party.” 

You laugh, “Nice. Do you just have the one sister?”

Benny has just the one sister, you learn, among other things. You find talking to Benny is easy, he doesn’t give one word answers to questions like some men you’ve gone out with. Where trying to get to know them is like trying to get to know a slab of pavement. He’s funnier than you thought, something that you didn’t expect, but is a nice surprise.

“Did you always want to be a detective?”

Benny butters a piece of bread, “To be honest, the only thing I wanted to be growing up was a magician. I guess I saw one too many David Copperfield specials as a kid.”

You start laughing, “Do you know any magic tricks?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know. What about you?”

“I don’t know any, no.” You shrug jokingly as Benny laughs. “But, yeah, I guess I’m doing what I’ve always wanted to be doing. I’m lucky that things have worked out how they have.” 

Benny’s curious now, “You didn’t always work in a bakery?”

“Nope. I actually used to work in tech. It’s kind of a long story.”

“Well, I’m not in any hurry to end the evening.”

There’s something about Benny that puts you at ease, that makes you comfortable enough to want to open up to him. Something that you would never normally consider doing on a first date. You don’t feel the need to downplay that you made a lot of money when a company you worked for in New York was bought out. He doesn’t flinch when you tell him that the reason you moved to California was because of your now ex-husband. He tells you about his own divorce and for the first time in a long time you don’t feel so unlike yourself on a first date. It doesn’t feel scary telling him that you felt insignificant in your own life because of your work and your marriage. That every conversation with your husband made you feel like a burden.There’s a moment when you start to apologize, out of habit, but he stops you. He smiles when you say that the divorce was the best thing to happen to you because it–and you hate to say it like this–gave you your power back. 

“I always wanted to own my own business and I love donuts, so when the divorce happened, I just said fuck it, and went for it. Just threw myself into it.”

“I’m glad you did, I don’t know where else I’d get an apple fritter that good. And for free.” 

“Yeah, about that.” You smile playfully, “I’m going to have to start charging you before you put me out of business.” 

Benny makes a show of looking at his watch, pretending to want to leave, “I guess we should probably call it an evening then?”

He likes the way you laugh, how it’s kind of loud and fills the room. It makes him feel good, to hear you laugh, to see you smile; like he’s responsible for some bit of happiness you’re experiencing.

“See, I knew this was a scam.”

As the waiter clears the table and they wait for the check, Benny asks you what your favorite donut is. 

You don’t even have to think about it, “Definitely a maple bar.”

Benny watches as your eyes light up, telling him how you first had one when you spent the summer between fifth and sixth grade visiting your aunt in Seattle. He listens to you describe how your mom was, in the nicest terms you can find, an extreme dieter, who tried her best to pass all of her food issues down to you, and never let donuts in the house. But your aunt didn’t care and the first thing she did once she would pick you up from the airport was take you to her favorite bakery. It was the highlight of every summer after that until you graduated high school. It was the first donut you learned how to make because on the east coast they’re hard to find. You laugh when you say the best part of moving to the west coast is that every donut place has maple bars, but you’d like to think that yours are the best. Benny can’t help but think it’s cute.

Benny doesn’t want the night to end; he knows that you took a cab to the restaurant so he offers to drive you home. You try not to sound too eager in accepting his offer, but fail.

“Yeah, I’d love that.”

You ask him if he wants you to put your address into google maps for directions, but he doesn’t need them. Benny spends so much time driving all over the city that he knows every street, every highway, every interstate. The map exists in his head; he can get anywhere without really having to think about it. Benny drives you through some unfamiliar, but beautiful neighborhoods. The homes are still decorated and lit up, it’s like driving through the set of a Christmas movie–the only thing missing is snow.

You ask him more about his job, the guys he works with. You like hearing the stories that Benny has about them. You can tell by the way he talks about him, that he’s closest with Connors. You finally learn everyone’s first names and how Benny got his nickname–which you had previously googled out of curiosity. You ask if it bothers him to be called a drunk.

“Knowing the shit they all get into, not really.”

He says that it doesn’t matter what they call him because he knows that in any situation they’ll have his back and he’ll have theirs. That’s what he cares about.

When he pulls up to your house; a small, one-story home, string lights along the frame and around the windows; it looks exactly like he’d imagined. You both sit quietly for a few minutes unsure what to do next. 

Eventually you unbuckle your seatbelt, “I had a really good time tonight, Benny.”

“Me too. Come on, I’ll walk you to your door.” he looks over at you, “protect and serve, you know.” Benny knows it’s a dumb joke, but you laugh anyway.

When you get to the top of your steps, you find it hard to say goodbye. His face is illuminated by the Christmas lights and you can tell he doesn’t want to say goodbye either. You start to say something, you’re not even sure what, but no words come out because Benny’s mouth is on yours, his hands gently cradling your face. His lips are soft and you can feel the warmth of his tongue asking for permission. You drop your keys onto the porch and pull him closer to you by his belt loops.

It feels like hours have passed when Benny finally pulls away, “Sorry. I’ve been wanting to do that for months.”

You rest your hands on his chest, “Next time,” you gently tug on his shirt collar, “don’t wait so long.”

Benny smiles as he watches you crouch down to pick up the keys you dropped. When you stand back up, he reaches towards your face, his fingers grazing behind your ear, “Hold on, you have something in your—” Benny sweeps his fingers against your hair and when he brings his hand in front of you, he’s holding a small, folded piece of paper. 

You take it from him, unfolding it. When you see the words ‘what are you doing for new years?’ written down you start grinning, “So you do still know some magic tricks.”

Benny places his hand on your neck, his thumb stroking your cheek, “A few.”

[stellari-s]

Okay, ajjajhajja, I am nervous to ask for this request because I don't want to make you feel uncomfortable, so, that's okay if you decline, I understand-

I had this thought, so: Reader, but they are blind. Like, Helena's level blind, if not worse, and in one match, Ithaqua stumbles upon them, thinking that they'll be an easy catch, but! They are kiting like a beast, jumping, running, stunning

Maybe he'll proclaim them as his enemy? Y'now? The tension? 👀

✨

hi, anon, sorry for the delay! and no worries at all. i'm not uncomfy... in fact i really like getting requests! so i hope to receive more 🥹 i also hope you enjoy this and that it's at least somewhat worth the wait...!

request; yes, by anon! requests are basically always open, so feel free to send them to my inbox!

wc; 1 074.

tags; gn! survivor! reader, default! ithaqua, visually impaired reader, some small melly & norton interaction because i love bickering scenes, please teach me how to kite like this reader.

summary; it's been a while since your last match, when you suddenly are put into one now. there, a certain hunter rekindles your competitive spirit...

“it’s been a while since you saw this letter end up at your door.”

you can hear your friend, martha, lean against the door next to you as you brushed your fingertips across the paper. in different places were indents, somewhat like a code only known to you.

me, martha, melly, and norton.

“i hope i haven’t gotten too rusty,” you reply, “especially in running the hunter.”

“you did seem to have a penchant for being the first one chased.” martha’s tone is lighthearted, but you know there is some truth to those words.

“it was troublesome back then, but maybe i’ll have a new outlook after this break.”

“you’ll probably have to write that down in your diary later.”

“mhm.”

the match preparation room is located remotely from the rest of the manor - it’s a room attached to one of the corners of the otherwise large residence that could house many, many people. you struggle to see the details of the room with the amount of detail most of your teammates see it, but from what they describe, you know there are two sections of the room: one a long dining table with an ominous and mysterious window backdrop that occasionally shows a shadow of long, spindly arms with human hands silently moving about. on the opposite side is a curtain, behind which the hunter prepares for the match.

survivors like you never know which hunter they’re going to face each match, and at first it had made you nervous, but eventually you are able to relax more after playing so many matches. you have run into every hunter at least once so far, so you more or less know how to counter their moves and even predict what they may do next.

well, every hunter but one.

“i have a bad feeling,” norton comments with a somewhat sour expression, crossing his arms, “i swear, if i have to fight against that damn wind storm again-” he cuts himself off, but you have a sense of what he was going to say.

melly lets out a small hmph. “if that happens, i’ll help you out. i wouldn’t mind you being in my debt. in fact it would work quite well in my favor.”

“oh, shut up, your bees are the last thing i want to see and hear.”

you are initially nervous for this match, for multiple reasons, but upon hearing melly and norton’s friendly bickering, you feel a little more relaxed by the time you find yourself on sacred heart hospital’s second floor, from what your feet can feel.

did norton mention something about wind? is that related to this new hunter?

if that’s the case, it might be a good idea to stick to places with higher walls. perhaps near the ruins, the shack, or here near the hospital, where there are large, wide gates just outside.

for a little bit, you survey your surroundings for good measure, walking around and “marking” obstacles in your mind and where they are. you then make your way toward a cipher machine, but when you hear the sound of footsteps coming from the staircase just outside, your heart starts to clench, screaming warnings at your mind.

you can tell more or less where the hunter is because the floor is hard, so his footsteps make a lot of noise. for good measure, you slam a pallet down early as a gust of wind takes your breath away, sucking you in toward the hunter.

“found you!” the hunter says, his voice possessing a slightly singsong quality. you can feel another gust of wind flow past you toward the hunter. this is good: some hunters are more “sneaky”, making it harder for you to run them with you not being able to see well, but with this one, you can use the direction of the wind to give you information.

you can make it work.

jumping down to the second floor, you hit him with the pallet on the hospital’s first floor before making your way just outside.

you try looping him around the wall, but he eventually makes it to the same side as you. with the wind, he hinders your ability to run, and you have to give him a hit.

but that is all you’re willing to give.

five ciphers becomes four.

another stun.

four to three ciphers left.

you nearly get hit from accidentally bumping into the ruin walls, but you vault in the nick of time.

two ciphers left.

the hunter uses that ability again, but you are already near a window. you vault over it and run perpendicular to the current.

one more to go.

for one moment, you run toward him, but quickly turn back. you manage a juke, giving you a second to create a bit more distance.

only when all ciphers are done does he finally land another hit on you. this one is harder than the last one, causing you to rub your back and hiss in pain.

“would it hurt to be a little more gentle...?” you mutter, trying to crawl.

the hunter nimbly picks you up on balloons. “you ran me the entire match and you want me to be gentle?”

“call it a stroke of luck,” you reply, watching as he takes you down to the basement. you don’t bother struggling. “by the way, what is that weapon? i can’t see very well.”

“you can’t see very well, so i thought you wouldn’t last this long.”

“i can’t see very well, but that doesn’t mean my other senses are also impaired.”

“i’ll keep that in mind.” he goes downstairs and chairs you in the innermost corner. “and every time we meet i’ll make sure you’re down at five ciphers.”

“then when we meet here on after, let us see who lady luck favors then.” you give him a small smile: an acceptance of the challenge in his words.

the chair starts spinning, quickly increasing in speed and making you dizzy in turn. the chair descends underground, taking you back to the manor, leaving you quite nauseous in the end.

at least your teammates could make it out though.

it’s been a while since you last participated in a match, so you had thought you lost your competitive spirit. but this match has clearly proven otherwise.

as long as you two consider each other enemies, you have no intention to let this hunter win.

[karasbroken]

My ninth story I wrote in chapters, so it feels a little different. I really struggled with what I wanted to say and ended up going on and on. The main theme is Aeryn trying to deal with the realization that what Namtar did to her can't be fully undone. She's no longer purely Sebacean and purity is a core value to Peacekeepers. My version of Aeryn is almost suicidally self-loathing, so this is another 'watch the tags' kind of story.

The plot might also be controversial? I'm not sure even Ben would be with me on this one, but basically John gets drunk and gets his Captain Kirk on. Then he not only has to do the walk of shame in front of a really disgusted Aeryn (purity!), he also has to ask her about making alien babies because John made multiple bad choices. Yes, this is just my excuse to write an essay on Sebacean genetics, but I tried to make it fun? And at least I wrap on an up beat for once, with John trying to get Aeryn to see the good side of being part-Pilot.

Rating: T    |   Word Count: 21,840 | Chapters: 5/5   

Tags: Post-"They've Got a Secret", Angst, Bickering, Drunk Sex, Mildly Dubious Consent, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Reproduction Discussion, Pre-Relationship, Past Relationship(s)

“Are those schematics?” John leaned over Aeryn's shoulder to look, making any response pointless.

“Mm-hmm.” The work bench she’d claimed as her own had been out of the way when Aeryn chose it. Lately though, John had tended to work on his projects from the next table over, meaning she had to deal with his interruptions whenever he grew frustrated, or bored.

“We’ll make a Tech out of you yet!” John's condescending pride instantly put Aeryn on edge. “What are you trying to figure out?”

“You have no idea what my training involved, and yet you continually doubt me. This has nothing to do with tech work, you idiot,” she snapped.

“Okay, okay, Angry Spice.” He threw up his hands, trying to placate her. ‘You talk about your old life less than anyone else on Moya, you know. Tell me about your special diagrams.”

Everyone on board hated any mention of the Peacekeepers, except as the villains of their stories. It didn’t leave Aeryn with a lot to say. Even if it hadn’t been intensely painful to think about her life before.

Aeryn shoved the second stool at John. She’d learned to keep one nearby to prevent him hovering at her back. As he sat down, she stacked the flimsies, leaving only the most interesting one, where she had marked the observed changes, on the cleared surface. “This is a section of corridors and access shafts on Tier 14 hamman-side. On my last patrol, I noticed DRDs working in the area, reducing the corridor width and adding ribs. I'm trying to determine if this is related to Moya's baby.”

“Huh.” John pulled the flimsy closer for study, then looked up. “Wait, patrol? We’re interstellar and haven’t had Peacekeeper contact in weekens, why are you ‘patrolling’ the ship?” He made that double-curled finger gesture Aeryn had yet to precisely define.

“Because no one else is.” Aeryn’s head had started throbbing an arn ago, dashing her hope that the chronic headaches had finally gone away. Under John’s pestering, she could almost feel her temper physically fraying.

“But there’s no reason to! That’s like… crazy tyegur-in-a-cage behavior. If you’re bored, I could teach you something useful, how to fix—” John cut himself off when she reached over and yanked the flimsy back.

“You’re not even useful yourself, Crichton.”

“I have my moments,” he muttered. “Hey, if you think it’s worth your time, then have fun. But do you really expect to find mystery invaders?”

“Pilot and Moya were both recently incapacitated for several arns, and have been distracted, healing, or impaired ever since. Anything could have come on board undetected while we had the DRDs shut down, too.” John was still looking skeptical, so Aeryn leaned in, speaking slowly and clearly. “I know humans have terrible memories, but less than three monens ago we all almost died because an interstellar parasite got on board without detection.”

“Fair point,” John half-shivered, half-shrugged, crossing his arms and rubbing himself as if he were cold. “Just thinking about those giant sentient space kahk-roechiz makes my skin crawl. So let’s avoid that.” 

[chthonicarcher]

you’ll be interested to know I hadn’t actually read your response to me on AO3 yet at the time of receiving this ask! I haven’t looked at my AO3 inbox at all since you left your original comment, in fact. if you felt bad about whatever you said, you could have just deleted it at any point... (but it doesn’t matter. the entire thread will be deleted soon regardless!)

continued... ->

okay, so first: I do sincerely apologize for replying to your initial comment in anger. because yes, it made me angry! I should have waited until later to reply, when I wasn’t so annoyed anymore. but I didn’t wait, and I do regret that. and, as a side note, I did *not* actually intend to sound condescending—but, as I’m sure you’ve realized, intentions sure don’t count for much here.

because you claim in your ask that you *intended* to “kindly” let me know about an error you noticed in my fic. but what you actually did, though, was rudely ignore the chapters you had read and PRESUMABLY enjoyed (who knows?? not me, because you didn’t say shit about that) and instead decided to point out what you perceived as a math error on my part (which, I’ll only say this once more, because it doesn’t actually matter: I was not, in fact, wrong about in the first place!) and called it a day. WOW, THANKS!

pictured here: KINDNESS!

do you understand why that kind of thing might make an author feel bad? I mean, really, do you? it’s like you walked into my house, sat down at my table and started eating this cake I had baked for you *without uttering one single word to me* the entire time, and then abruptly stood up and left while loudly talking about how *you* would have frosted the cake differently. come the fuck on, man. even just *thinking* about writing things again is hard enough for me right now. I mean *nice* comments don’t even hit the same when you’re feeling bad about your work! *this* shit feels demoralizing. like listen, I get that you probably weren’t trying to be a dick on purpose, but please just...try to have more awareness of how your words could affect people? I don’t think that’s too much to ask.

by the way, some advice for the future, if you’ll pardon the condescension: if you ever feel an urge to get pedantic in somebody’s comments section, in MY opinion you should either a.) be their trusted friend already or b.) be very sure they are receptive to those kinds of corrections. and ALSO, in addition to those things, you should probably say literally anything else in the body of your comment so you don’t come off like a total dick. you don’t have to write a whole novel or anything, as appreciated as those are—even something as brief and to the point as “this was great” is a perfectly acceptable comment.

SIGH. so okay. so.........I’m sorry, but I think it’s really fucking interesting that you ALSO left this comment on cabin fic, which *also* made me feel terrible? you’ve really got a knack for that, it seems. yeah...actually, I’m going to go ahead and request that you stop leaving comments on stuff I’ve written? usually it really is true that more comments = better! comments are so, SO appreciated by fic authors...I mean, they fuel us. they really are all that’s keeping us going sometimes. but...in both of these examples...I really think just saying nothing would’ve been better.

and...that brings us to the elephant in the room. again, I’m sorry—I just don’t know of a way to approach this without being a bit condescending?...but, listen. if you *are* in fact a minor...then I don’t just need you to stop commenting on my works, I need you to stop READING them. both of the fics we’re talking about here are rated Explicit. minors are not welcome.

alright, with that out of the way: at the time of this posting, I still haven’t read your second comment on AO3. if you’d like to delete it before that happens, please feel free. I’ll be deleting the entire thread pretty soon regardless. I don’t need it sitting there festering and making my WIP fic any harder for me to look at than it already is.

with all that said? thank you for apologizing. and, again, I’m sorry for the tone of my response, too.

— 𝒜𝓇𝒸𝒽𝑒𝓇

[fogwitchoftheevermore]

5 & 10

-xel

oh hey king. i wonder if any specific thing prompted this. anyways.

5. favourite build?

oh this is SO hard…. i think i have to be loyal and say the crastle though. ugh i miss third life builds.

10. do you have any headcannons? or theories about the season?

i don’t think i have any strong hcs yet, just cause we’ve only had two episodes. at the very least it’s nothing i haven’t already said. as for theories… y’know what yeah, sure. now’s the time for me to bring up my listeners theory. why not.

i’ll be so real this theory is mostly about liml. the secret life relation is really how i think it’ll tie into this season, though i don’t have much evidence to go off of yet. also obligatory “i don’t watch streams so if martyn talked about this in his post liml lore stream do not embarrass me”.

basically the stuff the watchers said to martyn after jimmy died in liml has. implications. the relevant section is “echos ring/for brief exchange/disruptions by/the ones estranged/tread careful sound/for if we met/our gaze would bring/untimely deaf”. the first time i heard that part i didn’t really think much of it and assumed “sound” was just a weird name for martyn, but i’ve realized that, combined with the fact that the watchers don’t talk to martyn at the end of the series but the listeners do, they’re almost certainly talking to the listeners there. the implication seems to be that the listeners have managed to cut the watchers off from martyn for whatever reason. this, combined with how strikingly similar their message at the end of liml is to their message at the end of evos, makes everything feel Real Weird. like yeah ok the watchers are bad but. what do you gain from cutting him off listeners. what do you want here. (i have never quite trusted the listeners and this is something martyn has validated- the listeners are not good just because they are against the watchers. the enemy of my enemy is not inherently my friend.)

as for how this ties into secret life? i think it’s possible that we straight up don’t hear from the watchers this season. it’s DEFINITELY not off the table, but… idk i think we might be in the listener zone for a while. and idk if that’s a good thing.

[yeonchi]

Combo Rangers Vol 2 Review: We Are Humans

Graphic novel, transcript and translation available on Google Drive

Previously on Atop the Fourth Wall...

Fast forward to the late 90′s, where Brazilian author and cartoonist Fabio Yabu created a Flash webcomic known as Combo Rangers in 1998.

In December 2012, Fabio Yabu ran a crowdfunding campaign on Catarse (the Brazilian Kickstarter) for a trilogy of reboot graphic novels scripted by Yabu and illustrated by Michel Borges.

Additionally, an English version of the first novel was also published online around the same time as the original and made available for free on WEBTOON in 2019.

The other two graphic novels were made available online (in Portuguese) for a limited time in 2020 during the coronavirus pandemic, but I didn’t download them because I wasn’t that interested in the series.

There are a couple more preludes available on Fabio Yabu’s Facebook page if you scroll down far enough on the Photos section, but I won’t be covering them because they haven’t been translated and, as I stated before, I don’t have time to translate something I’m not entirely interested in.

...We Are Heroes is only the first of the Combo Rangers graphic novel reboot trilogy, as it is followed up by its sequels, We Are Humans and We Are Equals. However, despite it being years since their release, neither of the sequels have been released in English...

This leads me to the main reason why I’m making this review because in case you missed it, I’m not that interested in Combo Rangers as a series.

Storyline skit: The Interdimensional Café Part 1A

At the very edge of the universe lies the Voidstation, a structure connecting many parallel universes and dimensions. In it is a Hong Kong-style cha chaan teng cafe, serving daily specials like sandwiches, snacks and numerous types of noodles and rice, including instant noodles and baked rice.

Three people from different universes met for lunch that day; there was Parker Zhou from Yabuverse code PM10, a universe where the Drylanders of Earth were fighting the subjugation of the saline Salacians from their seas; there was Hiroki Ichigo from N-Space X, a universe where anything and everything could happen; and there was Azuma Yeonchi from Tumblrverse Y, where the author of this post comes from.

At the table, Hiroki was placing the order on his phone, because that's what modern restaurants are doing nowadays. Once the order was placed, Azuma wasted no time. "So, you got the goods?"

Parker dug into his bag and took out the three Combo Rangers Universe graphic novels, which he acquired in another universe while taking a break from the war in his universe. "Right here. I've also got a USB with digital versions of these graphic novels."

"Oh sweet, thanks. That'll save me about two months' worth of scanning, OCR and transcription."

"How did you go with the Sea Princesses books I gave you few years back? Sorry they took so long to arrive, I didn't realise there was a pandemic on."

"Oh yeah, it's all good. I got a better return out of them in my universe than what I was expecting."

Hiroki interjected, "I saw the things happening in your universe. Looks like you got a bit more than you bargained for."

Azuma replied, "Well, it wasn't that bad, even with all the horny pics and things that didn't make sense, but we managed to come to an understanding about that. Even if it was more than I bargained for or if it wasn't the kind of attention I was expecting, I still think it was worth the effort."

The food came to the table and the three of them began eating. What they had was the usual cha chaan teng fare; Hiroki had his usual satay beef instant noodles with a ham omelette and lemon tea; Azuma had a roast pork and tofu rice, colloquially known as "a man's romance", while Parker had pork chops on mushroom sauce and spaghetti.

After the three finished eating, they went back to their respective universes. Azuma began working on transcribing and translating the Combo Rangers Universe graphic novels. Two months later, Azuma was ready to begin his review of Volume 2.

Hello and welcome to Atop the Fourth Wall, where bad comics burn. Back in August 2022 I reviewed the first of the Combo Rangers reboot graphic novels, We Are Heroes, which were crowdfunded in 2013 to celebrate their 15th anniversary after 10 years on hiatus. Although back then I had no intention on reviewing the other two novels of the trilogy, which is also known collectively as the Universe phase, an upcoming story necessitates the translation and review of them, so let's dig into the second volume of the Combo Rangers graphic novel reboot trilogy, We Are Humans.

Prelude: The Mighty Combo in: It's Not Easy for Anyone

In my review of Volume 1 I briefly talked about the prequel included in the WEBTOON version, Fly Again, featuring Fox Fonseca. Because I couldn't find the original Portuguese version of it, I thought that the prequel was exclusive to the WEBTOON version, but after trawling through the Wayback Machine, I realised that I was wrong and that said prequel was actually released in 2013 before We Are Heroes was released in Brazil. Same goes for the other two preludes - well, there's only one other prelude because the other one is a side story. I won't cover Fly Again here because I've already done it, but the transcripts and translation for it (and the other preludes) will be in my cloud drive folder linked at the top of the post.

The prelude I'm highlighting in this review is the one that Fabio Yabu published to his Facebook page but I didn't want to bother reviewing last year. In this two-parter prelude, the Mighty Combo is visited by his old friend and lawyer, Doctor Cooper, to serve him an eviction notice as the state government is acquiring the land where the Heroes' Retreat stands for gentrification. The Mighty Combo remains unmoved, so Dr Cooper heads off.

Upon getting into his car, Dr Cooper is confronted by a young boy attempting to rob him at fingergunpoint; Dr Cooper refuses to give the boy his wallet and he gets shot with a bioenergy beam. The Mighty Combo, Peacemaker and Mirrorman confront him and after hearing a longwinded excuse from the boy about the ghetto and 3G and gun crime, the Mighty Combo gets the boy to return Dr Cooper's wallet before flying off. After seeing some Combo Rangers characters in his delirium, Dr Cooper regains consciousness and tells the Mighty Combo that he will convince the government to let him and his friends stay at the Heroes' Retreat.

In the original Combo Rangers comics, Doctor Paul Cooper was actually a scientist (seriously, how does a lawyer have the title Dr) who came to Cidade City, lost his daughter, Maya (who is mentioned in the prequel), and ended up adopting another (Fabi) from the streets. Apparently he was the villain Dr Delirium in Zero, but he returns to normal, reunites with Maya and becomes an ally of the Combo Rangers or something.

Anyway, let's just get into the story.

Story

Following on from the events of We Are Heroes, Giluke tries to understand what he saw inside Lisa's head during their fight when Satan Boss admonishes him and Deck for their failure, telling him that with or without them, the Earth will belong to the Evol Empire before we segue into the Flashman-inspired opening sequence. Last time I mentioned that I was unsure who Deck was inspired from, but I learnt that in the original comics, Deck was actually the servant of Cardman, a villain from Revolution whose rivalry was with Luke instead of Fox. And there I was thinking he was Izuku Midoriya when My Hero Academia came out after these graphic novels.

In New City, Principal Pile announces his candidacy for mayor, much to Fox's shock. Fox goes to warn his friends at school, only to be demorphed by the anti-power barrier that Pile put up around the school. Fox has no intention of returning to school after being expelled for having powers, with him and Pile telling each other that the former would go back to school over their dead bodies. If you have been following the translation up to this point, you will have noticed that one of Fox's lines has an uncensored swear word. To put it simply, I think it fits with his character in that scene and I'm not one to mince words if I can help it. A little bit of a spoiler, but another swear word is used in the next graphic novel, but it's represented by an emoji. Points if you can guess the obvious.

Meanwhile, Giluke proceeds with his plan to obtain the energy of the Combo Rangers, masquerading as a boy named Luke. First, he confronts Mirrorman and tricks him into looking in a mirror, which somehow turns him evil. Next, he infiltrates New City School to get close to the Combo Rangers and Lisa while Satan Boss sends Deck to attack with Zaskonda, based on the Flashman monster The Zukonda. You know, I was going to make fun of Mirrorman's ability to turn evil when looking at himself in the mirror as a weakness, but then I realised that Fabio Yabu probably acknowledged it already at some point.

Fox and his dad, Formado, are the first on the scene. As Fox tries to deal with a kid rushing headfirst into battle, Formado goes to get the others on his son's request as the barrier at the school means that their communicators don't work. Formado tries to convince Principal Pile to dismiss the Combo Rangers so they can help Fox; Pile eventually does, even going so far as to join the battle with his jetpack as well. During the battle, Lisa unlocks the ability to construct prisms representing the Prism weapons of Flashman, but creating so many of them at once drains her power.

Luke gets other civilians to join the fight, making things more complicated for the Combo Rangers as they discover that Zaskonda is accumulating energy in the Evol Empire's plot to blow up the city. With Lisa forced to recharge, Kiko tries to use his portals to get Zaskonda away, but Mirrorman's betrayal causes Kiko to be thrown into his own portal. Formado tries to hold Zaskonda back, but he gets knocked away by Pile, who flies into the sky with Zaskonda and seemingly perishes in the explosion. It is here that Pile reacknowledges Fox as one of his students, showing that despite his strict demeanour, he still cares for Fox despite expelling him for breaking his rules.

At the Heroes' Retreat, Peacemaker proceeds to berate the Combo Rangers on the failure of their teamwork.

(Isn't it great that Tumblr finally added support for starting YouTube videos at timestamps?)

OK, allow me to break down Peacemaker's points here because his berating is honestly unjustified given their situation. Firstly, how did Fox "throwing himself into the conflict alone" constitute an "abuse of trust"? He only did that because he wasn't able to contact the others, who were at school under an anti-power barrier, and at least he recognised that he wasn't able to hold his own alone and asked his dad to get help. Secondly, it's only natural that Lisa would want to experiment with her new powers in the heat of battle even at the cost of her own strength. Thirdly, and this goes for his points on Ken and Kiko, if Ken was able to find out the enemy's plans earlier, you wouldn't be yelling them like you are now! And the worst thing about this is that the Combo Rangers don't make any attempt to defend themselves, instead just deciding to hand back their bracelets because they thought they failed their mentors, the people they looked up to. Yes, they saw Principal Pile die in an explosion so they were probably grief-stricken, but you'd think they'd be more angry considering they tried their best in the last fight.

Fox asks the Mighty Combo if he thinks they should continue; the Mighty Combo attempted to encourage them but thanks to Mirrorman's manipulation, he ends up telling them that he was ashamed to have given the bracelets to them. This leads them to return their bracelets to the Mighty Combo, thereby completing another stage in Giluke's plan.

Here's how I would improve that scene. Peacemaker berates the Combo Rangers with his unjustified viewpoints. The Combo Rangers try to defend themselves and tell Peacemaker that he was wrong, but Peacemaker takes their bracelets away in a fit of anger. Fox tries to get the Mighty Combo to put in a good word for them, but thanks to Mirrorman's manipulation, he ends up agreeing with Peacemaker and sends them back out without their bracelets.

Now with the bracelets in his possession, Mirrorman knocks out the Mighty Combo and takes him to Satan Boss. Peacemaker tries to confront Mirrorman, but he ends up getting hit by his ray. On Satan Boss' ship, the Mighty Combo tries to explain that his powers are dangerous and that the bracelets are encrypted with DNA, but Deck and Giluke just laugh it off because they can easily decrypt it as long as they have a single hair or a drop of saliva.

Fox is sent back to school the next day and is introduced to Luke. Luke tries to study Earth culture in the school library when Deck offers to help him collect the DNA of the Combo Rangers, but Luke refuses, telling Deck to go away before his cover is blown. The Combo Rangers, save for Ken, decide to head to Alpha's to go over the schoolwork Fox missed. On the way, they talk about how people treat those like Ken or Kiko differently for being different, whether it be being rich or black. At the same time, they also show their hypocrisy and prejudice towards aliens following their encounters with the Evol Empire. I'd just like to take a moment to say that this was a really great scene, which shows how people can still be prejudiced despite embracing the differences of others. On the other hand, I could also argue that such hypocrisy can be healthy, particularly when you think that some people who are apparently on your side of politics might not be as perfect as they seem. If we go around accepting people left and right, we slowly become unable to discern who the real enemies are until it's too late, and that can end up turning into a bad thing.

Luke enjoys himself with the Combo Rangers at Alpha's when Deck leads his forces to attack. While collecting the Combo Rangers' DNA, Deck confronts Luke and has him reveal to them that he is actually Giluke. Ken, who had discovered what happened to Peacemaker, arrives with his dad to save the Combo Rangers. Deck takes Peacemaker's weapon from Ken and fires at the Combo Rangers, but Giluke gets in the way of the blast just as Peacemaker, who has become pacifistic and clingy after being hit by Mirrorman's beam, teleports everyone to Ozora Tower.

After Giluke sees a vision of the old Combo Rangers, he regains consciousness and tells Lisa his story, which leads her to take him to meet her friends. Giluke reveals that Principal Pile is still alive, having teleported him away from Zaskonda's explosion. Meanwhile, Deck manages to gain access to the source and create the Evol Bracelet, deciding to morph himself into, let's just say the Black Combo Ranger, and leave Satan Boss.

Meanwhile, Pile is found by Mirrorman and is hit by his beam, but nothing happens because he was apparently pretending to be the opposite of his usual self. The Mighty Combo manages to find Pile, but Satan Boss manages to find him as well. Pile makes an offer to Satan Boss; because the only ones who can defeat Deck now are the Combo Rangers, he offers to give Satan Boss his two generals in exchange for himself, the Mighty Combo and the bracelets.

While the Combo Rangers evacuate the civilians, Deck confronts Giluke, offering to leave Earth with him. Giluke accepts and tries to prevent Deck from taking his revenge on the Combo Rangers, leading him to conclude that he is trying to protect them. Ken has Peacemaker shoot at Deck, but the effects of Mirrorman's ray make him shoot a rose at him. Ken and Fox are discovered and the others hurry to them and Luke. Formado and Ken's dad come to the rescue just as Principal Pile arrives with the Mighty Combo to return the Combo Rangers' bracelets back to them.

The Combo Rangers fight Deck, but he proves to be stronger than them due to him unleashing the full potential of their power that they hadn't yet discovered. Fox has Kiko teleport everyone away, resulting in Deck following them into the school's anti-power barrier, which demorphs Deck as Ken takes the Evol Bracelet. As Giluke arrives to tell Deck that it is over, Deck says that he doesn't feel so good. The Mighty Combo arrives and tells him that his powers are dangerous, which was why he created the bracelets and had the Rangers unlock their powers little by little, meaning that what Deck did was suicidal. A horrified Deck disintegrates in Giluke's arms as the Mighty Combo and the Rangers watch.

Principal Pile arrives to take Giluke back and fulfil his side of the deal with Satan Boss. Satan Boss tells him that he was promised two generals; with Deck now dead, Satan Boss decides to claim Pile as his new general and he leaves with Giluke and Mirrorman. The epilogue shows Formado as the new principal of New City School with the Mighty Combo as its vice-principal before we are treated to a sneak peek of Satan Boss introducing General Pile.

Reflection

This comic is alright. We get a bit of character development with the Rangers, but most of it does seem to be focused on Deck and Giluke even if it is minimal. Formado is more accepting of Fox's ambition to be a hero and as I stated in the review, Principal Pile comes to accept Fox for who he is despite expelling him from school for not following the rules. Not much is elaborated on Giluke's backstory (let alone Deck's), why Mirrorman thinks he is different or why he has dreams about Lisa and the Rangers, but I'm holding out for the third graphic novel to give us some sort of explanation. Disappointingly, I was expecting Sara Moon to make an appearance after the first graphic novel, but she just seemingly disappeared for no reason whatsoever.

While the first graphic novel was a bit of a cheesy speedrun through the usual tokusatsu tropes, the second graphic novel developed the characters and story from what was teased in the first before introducing some loose ends to be resolved in the third. There is no Megazord fight following the teaser from the first graphic novel, but we do get an evil Ranger fight with Deck, which kind of ends anticlimactically, but is kind of justified seeing how the whole team couldn't beat him even when they fought together.

The PDF versions of the first and third graphic novels have a foreword from Fabio Yabu and a postface from editor Cassius Medauar, but it seems to be missing from the PDF of the second novel. Well, from briefly looking at the eBook version on Google Play, the postface is there but not the foreword, and I don't want to bother translating those if I don't have them for each book. The English version of the first graphic novel doesn't have those either, so why should I bother?

It may interest you to know that transcribing the graphic novels was both easy and not as easy as I thought. It was easy to get the text from the PDF files and paste them in Word, however PDF files don't know what paragraphs are so every line in a paragraph is split into separate paragraphs (or multiple paragraphs will become one long paragraph) when I paste it. It gets worse when it comes to the graphic novels because paragraphs don't always paste in the right order.

After copying all the contents of the PDF and stripping the formatting, I got over 170 pages of raw text (the third graphic novel is 120 pages). I removed the foreword, postface, sponsor list and back cover synopses, then I have to condense the contents by removing new lines, marking in the page numbers (and adding them where they are missing) and putting in who speaks what, not to mention the bolded and coloured emphases in the text. Admittedly, I don't always do it when I get white text in black speech bubbles, but I did my best with everything anyway, and even then while going through everything, I've had to go back and add emphases where I've missed them. When the editing is done, the condensed transcript comes down to around 40 pages (the third graphic novel has 32), and thus the translation is around that length as well. At least the text is selectable and I don't need to correct any OCR mistakes like when I did the transcripts for the Sea Princesses books, because that was more of a nightmare than just scrolling through and pressing Delete countless times. I think this what it would have been like if I had asked Yabu to send me the manuscripts for the books.

This concludes my review of the second volume of the Combo Rangers graphic novel reboot, We Are Humans. Join us next time when...

*BOOM*

What was that?

Storyline skit: The Interdimensional Café Part 1B

Azuma was finishing his review of Volume 2 when he heard an explosion from outside. He got up and went outside to check; it was then that Azuma became alarmed at the sight he was seeing - there was a horde of Polvina clones outside his studio.

As if by instinct, Azuma took a bunch of throwing knives rigged with explosives, struck them on a wall to ignite them and threw them at the Polvinas. The explosives detonated and the explosion created a cloud of smoke.

"Are they gone?" Azuma thought as the smoke cleared, but little did he know that a surprising sight awaited him. Instead of the Polvina clones being eliminated as he expected, there were even more Polvina clones outside his studio.

Amongst the Polvina clones there were at least five distinct types among them; there was the standard Polvina that people recognised...

"There's an old saying on Dryland. It goes, 'A true hero recognises trends and adapts to the circumstances.'"

A red variant Polvina with pasties instead of a bandeau, forgotten to time due to the subtle changes in her design...

"Onbeishiramandayasowaka... Onbeishiramandayasowaka..."

A provacative-looking Polvina whose base design called back to a makeover surprise Ester and Tubarina gave to her for her birthday which looked rather decent until Ester and Tubarina decided that it wasn't enough...

"Hello, young man. Can I buy you a drink? Maybe we could have a little dance together?"

A zombie Polvina, possibly caused by defects in the cloning process or laziness from clones making more clones...

"Bruuuhhh, I’ve come to eat your brains..."

And finally, a politician-looking Polvina who looked like Brazillian president Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva but spoke like a combination of US Senator Bernie Sanders and Victorian Premier Daniel Andrews...

"I am once again asking for you to get on the beers..."

Azuma steeled himself as he prepared to face the horde of Polvina clones head-on, but little did he know that help was on its way from a most unlikely source...

"Heads up!" Hiroki said as a portal opened from the sky. Out from it came another Polvina, followed by Sougo Tokiwa and Hiroki Ichigo. Each of them had different belts on their waists and different collectibles in their hands...

"It's morphin time! Henshin!"

*KACHUNK!*

"Rider Time! Kamen Rider~ Zi-O!"

"KAMEN RIDE: DECADE!"

Landing on the ground were Kamen Riders Femme, Zi-O and Decade, who had come to Tumblrverse Y to fight the Polvinas.

Femme, aka the Polvina from Hiroki's universe, was not fazed at all the clones of her, though she was slightly taken aback at their appearances and how many of them there were. "So, the clones are on the loose, just as we thought. It's weird that there's so many of them and they all look like... well, me."

Zi-O, who hailed from a different universe to the other two where he was the one to inherit all Rider powers, the king of time crossing time and space to reign over over the past and the future, was eager to jump into battle, saying, "I've got a good feeling we can do this!"

Decade, known in his universe for being the destroyer of worlds and having a mixed reputation even before he became a passing-through Kamen Rider, was used to these kinds of situations, telling Azuma, "We've got the gist of the situation. Hurry inside and begin the review of Volume 3!"

"Oh, okay!" Azuma said as he went back inside his studio. What happens next, however, is a story for another time...

TO BE CONTINUED

[staticwritesnever]

enchanted: a series (pt. 2)

“the lingering question kept me up 2 am ‘who do you love?’ i wondered too im wide awake”

- enchanted, taylor swift

quackity imagines

warnings: swearing, use of quackitys real name

a/n: yes i should be doing work, but will i? no.

traveling is exhausting, so you and alex decided to keep the next day chill, by taking him to run some errands at one of america's most important institutions: costco.

you woke up WAY before alex did,, it makes no sense

the time difference between mexico and california is not even that bad, alex is just a sleepy bum

when he finally does wake up, you grab a quick snack/mini lunch from a mcdonald’s drive thru

“remember when you tried mcdonald’s for the first time? you were like a teenager and you swore you would never eat mcdonald’s again in your life?”

“yeah?”

“how’s that going for you?”

after scarfing down the crispy fries and the not-really-chicken chicken nuggets, you drive down to costco and while out your costco card like a badass

“you know they have costco in mexico right?”

“… no i did not.”

you have your grocery list in one hand and are pushing the cart in through the packed warehouse with alex fearfully following behind

“why is it so packed in here?”

“it’s america. everywhere is packed.”

alex actually doesn’t appreciate the random strangers poking him and pushing him around, frequently complaining about it

so, to solve it, you give him the cart

which for some reason instills this weird power in him that makes the crowds part like the Red Sea

now alex is starting to have some fun

you guys buy a shit ton of snacks (that you absolutely DO NOT need)

load up on drinks aka caprisuns

and practically fill your empty bellies with the free samples being given out

alex likes to lift his feet off the ground and let the cart roll forward whenever you guys happen to stumble upon an empty aisle

he almost crashes like every single time and every single time, you laugh your ass off

“please don’t ride the carts, it’s not safe.”

y’all literally get SCOLDED by an employee once alex bumps into a crate of snapple juices

“ALEX. THEYRE GOING TO TAKE AWAY MY COSTCO CARD BECAUSE OF YOU.”

“i mean… is that really the worst thing in the world?”

“alex you don’t understand… costco is the holy land. it is the one institution keeping this country afloat. and you haven’t even had the pizza yet.”

you wander into the books section, where you find piles and piles ranging from sappy-gross-walmart-romances-with-half-naked-people-on-the-covers to booktok sensations

as you read through the synopsis of two books, debating which one to add to your never ending TBR pile back home, alex finds the giant display of flower bouquets

he takes his time sniffing them, analyzing each color, and feeling the petals to make sure they’re real and not plastic

a lot of the bouquets had already been taken and the leftovers consisted of broken stems, some wilted petals and empty spaces where it appeared that certain flowers had been taken

there was one bouquet that stood out to alex

small but pretty; a bunch of red-tipped yellow roses that, unbeknownst to alex, symbolized friendship and falling in love something he would learn a lot about during his trip here

he picked out the bouquet as you picked out a winner from your book debate

he presented them to you

“as a thank you for introducing me to the heart of corporate america.”

“you’re so sweet, i might cry and bottle the tears to sell for profit.”

you laughed as you walked to a register to pay

“ok now, if you think this pizza is bad, then our friendship is effectively ruined and you’ll be sleeping on the street the rest of the time you’re here.”

“WHY IS THIS SLICE SO FUCKING HUGE?”

“… america…”

the two of you sat in one of the small picnic table in the designated food court area at the entrance of the costco

alex was trying the pizza

“actually it’s not bad.”

“i’ll take that as a win.”

you guys laugh and talk so much while you eat, it takes you an hour to finish a single slice

once you finish your pizza, you continue talking on your way to your car and won’t shut up to even take a breath

childhood memories, favorite songs, movies, shows, books, trauma, food

the different topics are a rollercoaster of emotions, some more difficult to discuss than others, but for some reason, with alex, even the hardest of stories is easy to tell when he’s the one listening

by the end of the night, you’re on the couch, he’s on the floor sitting on a bunch of blankets and the tv is on, but no one is paying attention

the groceries sit on the dining table, waiting for a lull in conversation to finally be unpacked

the hours tick down, but only certain fairy and cold items actually make it into the fridge by the end of the night

“so whyd your last relationship end?”

the clock read 12:17 pm and neither of you were ready to go to sleep just yet, especially with the conversation now taking a much more serious, much more interesting turn at this late hour

“honestly… i think she was cheating on me.”

“NO”

“yeah… i never found out if she was, but she started dating some other guy really soon after we had broken up”

“im so sorry alex…”

“yeah…”

a worry that had slowly settled in your head was that alex maybe wasnt as comfortable telling you certain things and you felt like you were pressuring him, and he had to give in, considering he was staying in your home

but he felt no pressure. none at all.

in fact, he was more surprised at how easy it was to tell you all this stuff. and how much he wanted to tell you, but only you. he wanted to talk to you all the time and only stop if it meant he got to listen to you speak for hours on end.

after noticing your frown, he was quick to try and turn it upside down

“b-but don’t feel sorry for me! honestly, i think i was gonna break up with her anyways.”

“how come?”

he stayed silent at first, almost embarrassed that he was having such a cheesy thought but he knew you wouldn’t laugh, so he felt comfortable telling you

“she wasn’t… ‘the one’ you know? you know if you’re meant to be with someone for a long time and for a while, i didn’t feel like that with her… maybe that’s why i thought she was cheating on me. i needed more of a reason than just ‘she’s not the one’ to break up with her.”

you listened intensely

you’d never thought you’d hear alex, of all people, get so philosophical over the concept of “the one”

it was remarkable

“so… how do you know if someone is the one? is there a way to know, like, for sure that this person is the person you’re meant to spend the rest of your life with?”

once again, he sat in silence.

he pondered.

it was funny to see alex ponder.

he glanced around the room when he did. at the ceiling. at the tv. at you.

he stopped at you.

he stared at you.

and you at him.

as you awaited his answer, you examined the little features on his face. the ones that no video camera or phone facetime could ever do justice.

he had much better skin than you thought he would.

each little freckle reminded you of a star.

the little scar on his lip from when tiger scratched him on stream was a funny reminder of what it was like having a cat.

every little detail of him made you smile.

he finally answered

“i think you just… know.”

[bellesowl]

kiss and make up

- multiple characters 

⤷ atsumu, sakusa

genre: (an attempt at) angst to fluff ; established relationship, timeskip 

synopsis: in which you have an almost relationship-ending argument

word count: 2.1k total - about 1k each

warnings: fighting (obv), being called a burden, the boys are kinda mean but they make up for it i swear

- a/n: tbh i was kinda getting sick of writing just fluff so i wanted to spice it up a lil! if this sucks i’m probably going to stick to fluff fics but i think it should be fine? this one also only has 2 characs cause idk how i would be at writing angst LMAO if this does well enough i’ll post the one i have written w kuroo and iwa <3 but i feel like this kinda sucks so oh well

- thank u @kybabi for beta-ing <3

- miya atsumu

you n atsumu have been together since high school which is why you’ve always been inseparable

you went to the same college & moved in together right after, but once he got his job with the jackals, he insisted that you didn’t work and focused on getting your master’s degree

you reluctantly agreed, if only to be able finish & earn your phd soon after

because atsumu is always busy, it’s kinda become commonplace for you to do the chores around the house- like doing the laundry or washing the dishes or cooking dinner for him

but it’s gotten to the point where he expects it

atsumu sighs, unlocking the door to your shared apartment. today’s practice was rough, it was a day of hard conditioning and bad sets and he wanted nothing more than a good meal and to cuddle. the first thing he noticed when he walked in was the mess. instant ramen bowls were scattered everywhere, empty coke cans and dirty napkins were all over the floor, and there you were, in the eye of the hurricane. the second thing he noticed was that there was no homecooked meal.

surprised, he walks into the dining room to see you, furiously typing away at your laptop with four different books surrounding you. you hear his footsteps and look up.

“hey baby! how was practice?” you ask with a smile

atsumu grunts in reply and gestures toward the kitchen, “so.. what’s for dinner babe?”

your eyes widen, “oh shoot! i’m sorry, i was so busy studying for this final that i forgot to cook. do you mind-“ you stop when you see him roll his eyes and head out.

“um, where are you going? you just got home?” you ask, following him.

“out. i have to get food somehow” he replies, “especially because my useless s/o can’t cook a goddamn meal for me” he mutters under his breath

you stop in shock because did he really just say that?

“i’m sorry, i don’t think i heard you right.” you start but he interrupts you

“i said, i have to go get food because someone is too busy to cook a goddamn meal. what do you even do anyways- well, besides spend my money? the least you can do is cook for me, god.” he finally turns to look at you but he feels his heart stop at the look on your face.

not wanting to escalate the situation any further, you try to calm him down, “tsum, hey, i’m sorry i forgot to cook okay? this is my last final before the year ends and i just can’t afford to fail it, so i’ve been studying all day. if you come back to the kitchen, i’ll make you something, okay?”

“i don’t want to eat your half assed attempt at a meal, y/n. the whole point is that you couldn’t get off your ass for an hour to cook when i make the money, i paid for the apartment, hell, i’m even paying for your school! is it really too much to ask for you to stop being such a burden and cook and clean everyday?” he fumed.

you gape at him, shocked that he would even say that. to hell with not escalating things

“at least i want to do something more with my life than hit balls around and retire at 35” you hiss, “and i do everything in this house! i do the laundry, i clean the bathroom, i cook - i do all the things you refuse to. and do i complain? no. i offered to get a job but you refused.”

you turn around to grab your laptop and your textbooks, “just- just do whatever the hell you want to, atsumu.” and with that you walk out the door.

atsumu’s heart drops when he realizes that you actually left. sure, you’ve had arguments here and there, but you’ve never left. he pulls out his phone to call you when he sees you’ve left yours on the counter. knowing there’s nothing to do but wait at this point, he begins to clean up and calls osamu over.

-

it’s already 3 am when you walk back into your apartment, and you blink multiple times when you open the door. it’s ... clean? you’re sure it was a mess when you left, so how would it be clean? you sigh, too tired to think about it more and walk into the kitchen. your eyes widen at the sight. not only is your favorite food on the stove, but there your boyfriend is, asleep on the dining table. you smile slightly, well that explains things.

“ ‘’mu, hey, wake up babe.” you kiss him lightly and shake him.

he grunts and sits up, “baby! i’m so so sorry for what i said. you are in no way, shape, or form a burden, i have no clue why i said that. today’s practice was just really tiring, but i know i shouldn’t have taken it out on you. just please-” he sighs, “just please don’t leave me again.”

your heart breaks your teary eyed boyfriend. “shh, of course baby. i’ll never leave you again okay?” you say, tugging on his arm, “cmon babe, let’s go to bed, okay?”

“mm okay my love.” he replies and practically pulls you into bed. “i love you, okay?”

“i love you too baby.” you reply

“to the moon and back?” he asks

“yeah, and to infinity and beyond.” you reply, your lack of sleep hitting you hard

“oh, i didn’t know i was dating buzz lightyear”

you let out a loud laugh and just like that you both fall into the same routine, love radiating off both of you in waves.

- sakusa kiyoomi

dating sakusa was,, challenging

it definitely took him a while to get comfortable with you

so you guys have been dating for a couple years now, and at this point he’s def clingy

however there still moments when he reverts to his old self

this just happened to be one of those times

“OUT! AND JUST LIKE THAT, EJP RAIJIN TAKES THE WIN AGAINST THE BLACK JACKALS!”

the stadium is silent before the ejp cheering section erupts in cheers. you stay silent, watching your team below. you watch as sakusa stills, still in disbelief. you make your way down, practically sprinting to your boyfriend.

he sees you on the sideline and makes his way over to you. you put on your biggest smile and attempt to make him feel better.

“you did great, kiyo! you’ll get them next time, yeah?” you beam, knowing how hard he’s been training to beat his cousin

he eyes you warily, not knowing what to say.

usually, sakusa gets pretty clingy after games, so you you move to give him a hug.

“don’t touch me” he barked, jerking away from you. “if you hadn’t been distracting me, we would’ve won.”

you stare at him, refusing to let the tears flow. you both turn when you hear a certain setter yelling at the opposing middle and you sigh.

“um, okay then. i’ll see you at home, yeah?” you ask

sakusa merely nods and makes his way over to his teammates. you look around to see if anyone saw what just happened and you lock eyes with your boyfriend’s cousin, who walks over.

“congrats on the win komori! you guys did so well!” you cheered

“thanks, y/n! and i’m sorry about kiyoomi. i’m sure you know he gets that way sometimes.” he explains

you smile and shake your head, saying that you’re used to it and you both bid your farewells. as you walk out of the stadium, you think back to how your boyfriend, the one person you loved with everything you had in you, utterly embarrassed you in front of his whole team. before you know it, silent tears start streaming down your face. 

you enter your home and immediately rush to the bathroom. you draw yourself a bath and make some dinner while waiting. you assume that kiyoomi wouldn’t be home to have dinner with you anyways- and now that you think about it, you can’t remember the last time you had dinner together. after you finish your bath and eat your dinner, you decide to wait up for boyfriend and watch a couple episodes of your favorite show to pass the time. 

-

kiyoomi walks into his apartment at around 1 am, completely and utterly exhausted. he kicks his shoes off and drops his bag on the floor. The rustling rouses you from sleep and you sit up.

“hey kiyo” you say with a yawn, “where’ve you been all night?” 

sakusa ignores you in favor of getting ready for bed and you frown when he brushes past you. 

“kiyo, babe, what’s wrong? you’ve been ignoring me all night and i-” you start but he interrupts you before you can finish. 

“god, just shut up, y/n. can’t you tell i don’t want to talk to you right now? i’ve already had the worst day, i don’t need you making it any worse.” he snaps

"kiyoomi, look, i understand you’re upset but you shouldn’t take it out on me.” you reason, reaching out towards him, “listen, i’m here if you wanna-” 

“i said, do not touch me.” he seethes. “you are so fucking clingy y/n, lord, let me breathe a little.”

with those words, you explode. “you know what, sakusa,” he flinches when he hears his last name come out of your mouth, “i think i have the right to want to spend some time with my boyfriend! i haven’t seen you in god knows how long- you leave before i wake up and i fall asleep in an empty bed. i’ve been working my ass off to get some time off to watch your stupid volleyball game and what do you do? you embarrass me in front of your whole team!”

you sigh, wiping away the tears that continue that continue to fall. “listen, i don’t want to fight right now. i’m going to go stay at a friend’s house for the night, alright? i’ll see you tomorrow” you say, grabbing your purse. “if you’re even home tomorrow,” you add under your breath.

sakusa is in shock. the moment he saw your tears start to spill, he felt an undeniable and unrelenting ache in his chest that only seemed to grow with every work that came out of your mouth. and when the door shut? sakusa fell on his knees, his heart dropping. he truly couldn’t believe he said that to you. now all he had to do was wait till you got home.

-

2:38 pm - you check the time on your phone before pulling out your keys. you hope you made the right move, choosing to come back home while kiyoomi was still at practice. you open the door and the sight causes your eyes to widen.

there, on the couch with your favorite flowers in hand, is your boyfriend. he hears the door open and stands up abruptly.

“y/n, my love, i am so sorry. i truly cannot express how horrible i feel, and i cannot begin to understand how you feel.” he takes a deep breath, seemingly holding back tears. “i- i do love you. i love you more than i’ve ever loved anyone in my entire life. i know i’m not the best at expressing it, but you mean the world to me- no, you are my world. without you, i don’t know what i would do. so please-” his voice cracks, “just, please give me another chance?”

you run towards your boyfriend, practically tackling him. “kiyo, baby, of course. i love you too, you know? you just can’t do that anymore, yeah? you shouldn’t feel like you have the right to embarrass me just because you had a bad day. and please, don’t call me clingy? i know i do stick to you like glue sometimes, but that’s just because i never see you anymore.” you reply.

“that will all change, darling.” he answers sincerely, “i’ll make more time for you, i swear. in fact, i’ll take the week off, how does that sound?” at the sight of your smile, he relaxes.

“that sounds wonderful, yoomi.” you answer

sakusa feels the weight that’s been dragging him down lift and he realizes the effect you have on him- you’re his breath of fresh air. he also realizes how utterly idiotic it was to push away the one person who could make him feel better.

it’s fine, he reasons, he’ll just never make that mistake again. he swears it.

[dc418writes]

•|One Man’s Trash…|•

✨Pairing✨: Dennis BakerxBlack Reader

Summary🪄: You’ve got a bit of a soft spot for one of your regulars

⚠️: mention of divorce, talks of intimacy (including said statement of 🍆👀 lol), mention of pregnancy, small instance of harassment, implications of mental/emotional abuse, mostly fluff

A/N🎙: So this was inspired by @syntheticavenger and her Dennis fic which is amazing and so wonderfully written, so please go read it if you haven’t. I thought this would be a cute idea and I hope you guys like it☺️! Also don’t judge me for writing about this hamburger out the toilet eating man; for the sake of this story that was a drunk moment lol.

Ridding the circular table of the small sprinkles of sugar and drops of coffee left by the previous customer, you can’t control the sympathetic sigh that passes your lips at the sight of your more known customer in the corner. He typically came with his wife, but you’d noticed for a couple months she came less and less until she didn’t show at all. That typically wasn’t a good sign.

Especially with his once cheerful face falling to a mix of sorrow and disappointment. Maybe even shame.

“So, think the Dodgers are goin’ all the way this year?,” you ask, now close enough to notice the newspaper spread in front of him open to the sports section.

“I’m sorry?”

“I asked if you thought the Dodgers would make it to the World Series, since you’re uh on the sports page.”

“Oh! Um I’m not really into sports,” he nervously chuckles pushing his large frames higher on his nose. “Really just looking at the cartoons over here.”

“Aw it’s Peanuts,” you smile looking over the black and white drawings depicting Snoopy and Woodstock in another one of their adventures. “My dad used to cut them out and put it with my lunch when I was little.” Although brief, the soft smile that graced his lips has your heart warming as well knowing you’d brightened his day even if just for a moment.

And surprisingly, you were hoping you could do it again, or as many times needed to turn his recent melancholy mood.

“My wi-I mean ex wife, used to complain I was hogging the paper for only wanting to look at silly, childish drawings. It’s the first time I’ve looked at them in three years.” You always did get this feeling whenever she’d step in the bakery that she’d honestly rather be somewhere else—anywhere really. If it was raining, she’d make poor Dennis brave the strong winds and harsh droplets to pick up their dozen of cupcakes. She wouldn’t even help with opening the car door for him, instead looking down at her phone as he performed a bit of a balancing act with the cupcakes and coffees.

When Dennis would order both of their usuals; his a standard hazelnut iced coffee, hers a caramel latte with soy, light sugar, and two full shots of espresso exactly, she seemed annoyed. Crossing her arms when Dennis would try to sweetly grasp her hand as they waited. Slender fingers tapping her phone screen while her foot impatiently tapped on the wooden floor below. As soon as their order was called, she quickly grabbed her drink scurrying through the front door without so much as a “thanks” let alone a tip.

With an embarrassed tilt to his lips cringing as she called for him to hurry up because she had more important things to do, he’d slide a $10 bill into the tip jar as he said a soft “thank you.” You felt bad for thinking it, but he deserved better. Someone who didn’t treat him like a burden or like that pesky mosquito that just wouldn’t leave you alone. Albeit nerdy, he was caring, kind, incredibly sweet to anyone around, and should be loved for all he was.

“Well by all means take as long as you want,” you smile. “We get a good amount delivered every day so you never have to worry about hogging here.”

Being called over by another customer, you missed the blush that crept along his cheeks just as pink as the polo shirt he wore. The way his eyes shyly followed you to your new table, occasionally glancing your direction time after admiring how sweet you always were to every customer. From then on, he frequented the shop more often coming late morning/early afternoon. He’d sit somewhat far off with his coffee and newspaper at first, but eventually built enough courage—from your friendly smile and pleasant small talk—to sit at the table nearest to the pick up area. A prime location to talk with you between orders and smell the mix of berries and citrus from your perfume when the fan would hit you just right, causing an intoxicating breeze to occupy his nostrils.

“Which one is it this time?,” you cheerily ask leaning over the counter as if you could see the small drawings on the paper. It took Dennis a moment to register what you were asking with your chest casually pushed forward and sunlight shining on your delicate skin just right. He even had to remember to breathe quickly looking down at the paper while clearing his throat.

“Um it’s Charlie this time. He stopped at Lucy’s lemonade stand and she tricked him by charging him more. Snoopy knocked down the fake sign though so he found out just as he gave her the money.”

“Lucy’s still being mean to poor Charles,” you giggle with a light shake of your head.

“Y-Yea, I don’t think that’ll ever change,” Dennis briefly laughs along with you before his nerves start getting the best of him. Well, again.

For a couple of weeks now he’d wanted to see if maybe you’d like to have a conversation outside the coffee shop. Perhaps even over dinner or lunch. He didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable though, or potentially upset you thinking all the talks and sweet exchanges were just to get in your pants. You were the closest friend he had right now, and he’d hate to lose that.

“H-Hey, um Y/N?”

“Yea?”

He nervously wipes his palms on the front of his khakis as he stands, carefully approaching the bar with fingers fidgeting by his sides.

“Everything okay?,” you ask a bit concerned from the redness around his neck and ears. Dennis practiced this at home many times knowing exactly what he’d say and be able to calmly walk up to you and ask you out. He didn’t take into account the pressure of the actual execution and you staring attentively at him with those eyes he could never look too long in before getting lost.

“Yea! Yea everything’s fine. But um s-speaking of change-,”

“Afternoon sunshine,” a man interrupts lightly bumping into Dennis on his way to the counter where you both stood. Taller, more muscular, and definitely more stylish than Dennis, he was worried at first glance fearing that this mystery man would steal you away. Or had already done so.

But from the roll of your eyes—a key sign of your annoyance he’d come to learn—he felt the lump in his throat slowly dissolve.

“I’m working Cannon.”

“Not right now,” he smirks. With his dazzling smile and clear, golden brown skin, anyone could assume he was a model. And they probably did from the cocky way he carried himself and strode about, no doubt letting the compliments boost his ego and inflate his head.

“Hey, you mind? Kinda in my space,” Cannon directs towards Dennis shooing him away with the tilt of his head back towards the door.

“S-Sorry.” He gave the two space, but something inside told him not to go too far away. Was it his slight jealousy? His own intuition telling him to be aware? Maybe both.

“So sunshine-,”

“Please don’t call me that,” you state looking past him to take the order of the older woman waiting behind him.

“Why? You know you’ll always be my sunshine.”

“Not after you slept with my cousin in my bed. Speaking of, she know you’re down here?” He manages to catch your hand after giving the customer her chamomile tea and packs of honey, pinning your smaller hand to the counter with no escape.

“That’s in the past and was admittedly a mistake. Let me show you how different things’ll be now.”

“I’d rather not.”

“Cmon Y/N, don’t act like you haven’t been thinking of me,” he pouts, grip growing a bit tighter as you try to get away.

“I’m not acting, now let go Cannon.”

“Still keeping up with this hard to get game? Starting to get a bit old sunshine.”

“Leave her alone.”

Both of you turn to see Dennis, now standing closer and appearing to not really know how to hold his arms going back and forth from folding them in front of his chest to letting them hang at his sides. You appreciated him for trying to stick up for you, but sweet Dennis really didn’t know what he was getting himself into. “Dennis don’t worry about me, I can handle it.”

“Yea Dennis, she’s fine,” he grins bringing your hand to his lips placing a kiss to your knuckles. The whole time holding eye contact with your, now angry, friend. “Plus this doesn’t really concern you.”

“If it’s pertaining to her it does.”

You couldn’t help but smile hearing his words and how he wanted to protect you. But at the release of your hand as Cannon stood sizing up this new challenger, your heart raced quickly going around the counter to stand between the two.

“You her new man huh?”

“N-No we’re uh just friends.”

“But you want to be. Don’t you? Why you’re trying to prove yourself as some saving knight so she has no choice but to fall head over heels for you?”

“Cannon enough, just get out.”

“Nah he wants a fight, then go ahead Dennis. I’ll even give you first shot,” he smirks with arms out giving him said free range to throw the first punch.

“I-I don’t want to fight. Just leave her alone, okay? S-She doesn’t want you anymore, m-move on to s-someone else.”

His nerves were at an all time high not knowing what would happen next. Whether Cannon would come to his senses and leave or become angrier that he wasn’t getting his way. Plus your back against his chest wasn’t helping his heart rate as you attempted to shield him.

Looking between the two of you, there’s a moment of silence before he jumps towards Dennis faking as if he were about to throw a punch clearly catching both of you off guard. You slightly flinched while poor Dennis cowered so hard his shoe slipped against the hardwood floor making him fall backwards; smacking his elbow against the counter in the process. Cannon laughed to himself watching you kneel next to him, observing his reddened elbow in your hands to make sure he was okay.

“You know my number sunshine,” he winks haughtily walking out of the little coffee shop as if nothing happened. The few customers you had remaining immediately coming over to ask if you and Dennis were okay, or needed them to call the police to which you politely declined.

“It’s starting to swell, maybe we need to go to the hospital.”

“No I’m fine,” he hissed holding his arm closer to him, not daring to extend it. “Probably just need to ice it.”

“And what if it’s more? I really think you need to see a doctor.”

He knew you were right. The way his elbow uncomfortably throbbed and felt stiff didn’t seem like a good sign. He was embarrassed though, not being able to stand tough against your ex and be that protector he always wanted to be. Something else his ex-wife chastised him for.

“A rat has more fight in him than you.”

“How did I end up with someone so…weak?”

“Some way to stand up for you,” he laughs to himself as you help him stand to his feet. “Then again I should’ve known better. Tough is definitely not part of my DNA.”

“You stayed and stepped in when you knew I was uncomfortable and, although you may not think so, protected me from Cannon trying anything more. When he first told you to leave, you could’ve done that and left me to fend for myself but you didn’t. And I’m very appreciative for everything you did.” Leaning forward, your watermelon lips meet his warm cheek making it hotter from the sensation along his skin he’d dreamed about many nights. They were just as soft as he’d thought and selfishly, he wanted to ask for another so his lips wouldn’t feel left out. Instead though, he softly smiled shyly looking down tapping the fingers of his good arm against his opposite upper arm.

“Y-You’re welcome.”

———

“Sweetheart let me know if you get tired. I can get the scooter for you.”

“Dennis I promise I’ll be fine, we’re only getting a few things,” you giggle as you both walk through the busy supermarket. “Plus the doctor said I should be staying active.”

“True, but she also said not to over exert yourself,” he counters kissing your temple as you roll your eyes.

“You worry too much.”

“No, I just love you so much. There’s a difference sweetheart,” he winks as you reach the pharmacy. It wasn’t too long of a line, but there were two people waiting ahead of you and Dennis knew with your hunger and decreased patience, the next few minutes may not be fun for you.

“Why don’t you go ahead and get the ice cream? I’ll get your inhaler so you don’t have to stand in line.”

“You sure?”

“Yea it’s okay. You go ahead,” he warmly smiles gently squeezing your hand.

“Okay, I’m gonna find the bathroom first because I definitely feel my bladder being squeezed.”

Dennis can’t help smiling to himself watching you waddle away as fast as you could, hand on your belly trying to avoid an accident—well, another one. The pharmacist even had to call out to him with a “sir?” to bring his attention back.

“Sorry, pickup for Y/N Baker.” He’d never get tired of that name rolling off his lips.

“Dennis?,” he hears making him turn around to the last person he expected to see. Six years had passed since the last time he saw her, so he honestly figured she’d moved away and no doubt moved on.

“Susan…hi.”

He appeared the same since she watched him take his things out their formerly shared home all those years ago, except for his more modern looking black frames over his eyes. He clearly also had some change in style standing in a white tee, black joggers, and sneakers. With her he always wore khakis. Would probably even wear them to bed if they were soft enough.

“Y-You’re not in khakis,” she awkwardly smiles.

“Oh um yea. I still have a couple pairs, but these are a bit more comfortable. My wife bought them for me.”

“Wait…your wife?”

As if hearing your name, you appeared smiling beside Dennis with a basket of three different pints of ice cream and a couple bags of chips excited to show him what you’d found. “Honey look, they have new flavors! I couldn’t choose so I got them both plus our usual.”

“Sounds great! Um sweetheart I want to introduce you to-,”

“Susan. The ex-wife,” you finish for him snuggling closer into his side.

“Lovely to meet you,” she smiles. You can’t say the one you give back is genuine. “And I see congratulations are in order!”

Instinctively his hand finds your swollen belly, smile widening as it gently grazes up and down. “Thanks, we’re beyond excited to meet them.”

“Them?,” she repeats, wildly blinking and looking even dumber than you already knew she was.

“Yea, twins. Boy and girl.”

“Looks like there’s no bad penis over here after all,” you add with your fakest smile making sure the words stung just the same when she told them to Dennis.

From the way she looked down fumbling with the reusable bag in her hands, you achieved your goal.

“Well,” she clears her throat meeting both of your eyes again. “It looks like you’re doing just fine.”

“I am, really more than that actually. I’ve never been happier.” His lips on the top of your head leave you smiling to yourself, and it’s the final nail in the coffin sending Susan down the river and completely out of Dennis’ life. She couldn’t lie it was tough to hear, and honestly a bit confusing how Dennis managed to move on before her.

“I’m glad. Really I wish you both continued happiness.”

“Thank you. Well, we need to be going now so have good night,” you state with one final fabricated smile before pulling your husband along with you not giving her a chance to say anything further.

“Sweetheart, you promised you’d be nice if you ever ran into her,” Dennis whispers in your ear as you place the basket on the conveyor belt.

“That was before my emotions were dictated by two babies who do not like the lady who was very mean to daddy. And may I remind him was almost the reason said babies were not conceived.”

As can be expected, being continually berated can have lasting effects on one’s mind. You began trying to erase those words of doubt and criticism when you started dating—and before that even when you were still friends—but his problems with intimacy lasted the longest. Fearing that he couldn’t please you just as he couldn’t seem to do with Susan.

Dennis was so gracious for your patience as he worked through everything and that you stuck beside him. From the days he just wanted to hold you, or be held, to the days he felt a bit more daring wanting to try something from the list of your collective kinks. You supported him every step of the way doing whatever you could.

“Do not blame our unborn children on your tendency to be over-protective,” he grins pecking your neck just as the cashier tallies your total.

Collecting your groceries and journeying back to your car hand in hand, your eyes never leave the man beside you adoringly watching him safely maneuver the mini SUV through traffic while humming to the radio.

“Is there something on my face?,” he asks once stopped at a red light making you giggle.

“No, I was just thinking.”

“About?”

“…did you mean it when you said this is the happiest you’ve ever been?,” you ask, hand comfortably gliding along the base of your growing abdomen.

“Of course. More than you’ll ever know sweetheart.”

Taglist: @fumbling-fanfics @honeychicana @lady-olive-oil @themyscxiras @melinda-january @lovelymari4 @give-me-a-million-dollars-pls @bekinds @ladydmalfoy @maxcullen @curlyhairclub @plokyu23 @fullofmelaninsarcasmandepression @nunubug99 @felicity-x0 @ellixthea @jojolu @jnk-812 @captainsamwlsn @wildfirecracker @nina-sj @iammyownlover @chaneajoyyy @thesecretlifeofdaydreamss @damnitaa @literaturefeen @bamondomesticity @secretmysteriousperson

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[itsallyscorner]

hey. can u do part 2 to the’ Being a High School Student on A Marvel Set’? :)

💌

Period Buddies

Pairing: platonic!Sebastian Stan x teen!reader, platonic!Anthony Mackie x teen!reader

Summary: I’m currently on my period so I wrote this to help me cope:) Basically Anthony and Seb being the biggest and supportive guys to you during your period:)

Warnings: Umm not much, some mentions of blood and periods.

Hello my love!💞 Thank you for the request! I was actually planning on making another ‘High School student’ fic with the Marvel cast, so I decided to use that idea for this request! I hope you like it🥰 Also sorry I haven’t uploaded a fic in a while; I was lacking motivation to write and school was pretty hectic😭 Thank you for your patience my loves x

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

fluturaș - little butterfly

✧───── ･ ｡ﾟ★: *. ☽.* :★. ─────✧

You were laid out along your couch in your trailer, a fluffy Sherpa blanket wrapped around you and your head resting atop two soft pillows. You were laid on your stomach, the pressure of the couch slightly helping with the stinging pain in your lower abdomen. Your geography teacher was teaching via Zoom, though your laptop was on the coffee table that was inches away from you; knowing you weren’t feeling your best, you’ve decided to stay on the couch for school and moved the table closer to the couch so everything was within your reach. You had been lazily taking notes—or attempting to with the remaining energy you could muster up.

You had been surprised by the devil himself when you woke up earlier today at around six in the morning. You knew your monthly was coming; with the constant cravings, body aches, and the newly developed pimple gracing your face, your period was around the corner. And you were right, a dark red stain was splotched onto your white floral bedsheets when you woke up today. What a way to start the morning.

Yes, no woman ever felt their best during their period. You were always bloated, hungry, and blood was constantly flowing out of you, yet you were still expected to show up to both work and school. Not to mention, the pain you were currently enduring was making it really difficult for you to to focus on anything. Your teacher’s voice seemed to fade into the background as your body was blinded with the stabbing pain in your lower abdomen. You may have been overreacting, but everything just hurt.

Geography was your midway class, meaning that you were halfway through your school day. Which also meant that you were soon to be called to set. You had a lunch break and some time to do your homework, but either way you still had to get to set. Usually you’d be antsy to get the school day over with, practically buzzing to get to get into your costume and do some stunts with your two favorite guys on set. Although today was different, the thought of heading to set and being active felt dreadful. You just wanted to curl up into a ball, snuggle into your Sherpa blanket, and take a well deserved nap.

Your teacher’s voice was interrupted by a knock on your door. Already knowing who it was, you let out a faint “come in” to the two men outside your trailer. A second passes before your trailer’s door slowly opens and Anthony’s head pops from behind it. His sparkling yet dark brown eyes and toothy grin etched onto his friendly features. Sebastian pops up behind him, an equally wide smile on his face as he wiggled a white take away box in the air.

“What’s up buttercup.” They cheerfully greet you.

Though both of the men’s smiles drop once they see you bundled up on the couch. Anthony fully enters your trailer, Sebastian following suit. Approaching your little set up, Anthony glances at your laptop.

“Isn’t your camera on? Did your teacher allow you to attend school like this?” He asks you. He knew you were a responsible kid and had no troubles keeping up with your education. But that’s the thing, you were still a kid. Having kids of his own, he knew how unmotivated children can get in the middle of the school year and the laziness that came along with it. Seeing you lounging on the couch while your teacher was lecturing was just a bit concerning for him.

You stiffly nod, “My camera’s off. I just don’t feel good.”

The last sentence catches both of the grown men’s attention. Sebastian rounds the corner of the coffee table and hovers over you, observing your face. He softly places the back of his hand onto your forehead, checking for any alarming warmth.

“You’re a bit warm, but it’s probably because of the blanket.” He mutters, choosing to sit on the arm rest of the couch. “You alright, fluturaș?” He looks down at you in concern, lips tilting down into a small frown.

Anthony had settled beside your feet, one of his arms using your ankles as an arm rest. Strangely enough his arm brought you comfort instead of adding to the ache in your legs.

“I’m just—I’m on my period.” You mumbled in response. You wait for the awkward tension to build but it never came. You glance at the two men and see the realization settle in them.

“And I have really bad cramps at the moment, that it’s just hard to do anything. So I decided to stay on the couch today.” You explain with a slight shrug. They didn’t understand the pain you were going through, but they understood what you meant. While the both of them had female friends and what not, they were somewhat aware of what you were going through.

Anthony claps his hands to his thighs, “Alright, it’s ok to give yourself some rest. You just relax and listen to whatever your teacher’s going on about.” He motions to your laptop and continues, “Is there anything we can do to help you?”

While taking down notes, you momentarily glance at them, “No it’s fine, you guys already brought me food. Thanks, by the way.”

They didn’t want to leave you alone, you were clearly not feeling well and they both wanted to do something. They couldn’t do anything about the pain from your menstrual cycle, but they can help distract you from the pain.

“No, we’re gonna help you. Have you eaten ever since breakfast? I’ll spoon feed you if I have to.” Sebastian insists. You thought he was joking, but when you looked at his face he was serious.

“I had a brownie—wait, aren’t you guys supposed to be filming?” You question the both of them.

“Something went wrong on set so now we have a few hours or something till they figure it out.” Anthony answers, scrolling through his phone. He abruptly stands up to his feet and heads towards the door. You and Seb send him a questioning look.

“I’ll be back.” With that he pulls your door open and jogs out, leaving you and Sebastian in your trailer. You decide to tune back into your class, resuming to take down notes from the slides your teacher shared. Suddenly, a large hand gets in the way of your notebook.

“Gimme that.” Sebastian takes the pencil and notebook from you, placing them on his lap and staring at your screen. His eyes scan the PowerPoint, looking for the part you left off on. He hums when he finds it and began to write the notes himself.

“What are you doing?” You raise a brow at him, scanning his appearance. He was dressed in Bucky’s clothes, minus the black and gold ‘metal’ arm. He was still sat on the arm rest, slightly slouching so he could bend down to use his lap as a table.

“I’m doing your notes for you.” He answers nonchalantly. He motions to the white take away box on your coffee table, “Eat your lunch, I got this.”

You hesitate to sit up, feeling bad that Sebastian was doing your notes. Though, he did insist on doing it and you weren’t feeling your best. After an internal argument with yourself, you decided to let it slide and let Sebastian do your notes. Besides, he looked like he was enjoying taking notes on agriculture regions and the different types of farming.

“Are you sure, Seb?” You ask him again, slowly sitting up on the couch. He responds with a distracted ‘mhm’, his eyes focused on your notebook and his tongue sticking out in concentration. You quietly thank him and get up to use the bathroom.

While you were gone doing your business, Anthony had entered your trailer again. This time he had a plate full of brownies, a medium sized cup of ice cream from the vending machine, and one of those red hot water bottles in his arms.

“Where’s the kid?” He balances the things in his arms while carefully placing the plate of brownies onto your coffee table. Anthony locates your mini fridge and stores the ice cream in the freezer.

“Bathroom.” Sebastian acknowledged, still focused on writing the notes correctly in your notebook. He made sure to write neatly and copy the way you organized your notes. Saving you the hassle of missing out on important parts of the lesson and from decoding his personally sloppy writing.

Anthony empties his pockets to reveal more of your favorite snacks from crafties and the vending machine. “So...what are you doing?”

“I’m in geography class.” Anthony snorts at his friend before taking a look at your laptop screen, “And what are y’all learning in geography class?”

“Pastoral nomadism.” Seb bluntly answers. With his arms now free of the items he brought, Anthony decided to tidy up your couch. He folded your blanket neatly, fluffed your pillows, and made space for Seb to actually sit on the couch.

“What the hell is pastoral nomadism?” Anthony thought out loud.

“It’s when people travel from place to place with domesticated animals. It’s usually practiced in dry land climates.” Sebastian explains, eyes never faltering from the screen or your notebook. Anthony let’s out a sound of approval at Seb’s explanation. When he was done cleaning up your couch, he took the white take away box and headed to your kitchen. Emptying the contents of the container onto one of your plates, heating the food up for you.

You walk into the kitchen section of your trailer, shutting the bathroom door behind you. A delicious aroma lingers in the air, your nose picks up on the smell, sending it straight to your stomach. In response, your stomach lets out a low growl, making Anthony snicker at you.

“I’m heating up the food.” Anthony mentions as you pass by him. You thank him with a small smile as he gently nudges his shoulder against yours.

“Want me to make tea or something? I heard it helps reduce the cramps.” You raise a brow at him amusingly, “Where’d you hear that?”

“I read it on Google. You know, research, gotta make sure our girl’s comfortable.” He proudly tells you. Your heart warms at the fact that both him and Seb were willingly helping you while you were in pain. The microwave dings catching both yours and Anthony’s attention.

As he gingerly takes the plate out he asks you, “You wanna eat at the table or the couch.”

“The couch, I still wanna listen in on the lesson.” For a moment you forgot that you were supposed to still be at school, taking notes, and listening to your teacher teach the lesson. You enter the living room and sit next to Seb, who’s hand was digging into your pencil case.

“Want me to take over?”

“Nah, I got it, I’m too invested to stop. Which one?” He held up three of your highlighters, one was light blue, another was a peachy pink, and the other was a typical yellow highlighter. You grin, picking the peachy pink one. He tosses the other two back into your pencil case and uncaps the highlighter. While your teacher wraps up class, he began to highlight the new terms from today’s class.

“Here ya go.” Anthony sang; grabbing a pillow, placing it onto your lap, and carefully setting the plate of chicken teriyaki fried rice on top of it. You happily thank him and began to dig in. He slumps onto the couch beside you, “Tell me if you need anything else. I’ve got ice cream in the freezer, brownies, a hot water bottle, and a whole box of tea.” He throws his arm around your shoulder, letting it rest against the back of the couch.

You pause your eating, pouting at the two men beside you, “You guys really don’t have to do this. But I appreciate it so much, thank you.”

Seb looks at you over his shoulder, sending you a sweet smile, “Anything to make you happy, fluturaș.”

Anthony squeezes your shoulder, “Anytime munchkin, starting today till you’re not a ketchup packet anymore, Seb and I’ll be your period buddies.”

You snort shaking your head at him, “Again, I appreciate it Ant, but please don’t call yourselves period buddies.”

“What’s wrong with period buddies? You’re on your period and we’re all a bunch of buddies. It makes perfect sense!” Anthony reasoned defensively. Seb looks at the both of you over his shoulder again, “I like period buddies.”

“See! Thank you.” You playfully rolled your eyes at the two. “Fine, period buddies it is.”

Your geography teacher wraps the lesson up and ends the Zoom call. Seb shuts your notebook and puts it to the side. Clapping his hands, he asks you, “Alright, what class do we have next?”

“Calculus.” You smirk, followed by the groans of Anthony and Sebastian filling your trailer.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

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[absolutepokemontrash]

Kid!MC/Teen!MC Needs someone to go to Parent Teacher Interviews for Them and Guess Who’s Available?

Masterlist

The brothers being bad babysitters/dad figures is something I love very much, I bet you all could already tell that considering the Fic/Headcanon series I have going on. I would just like you all to know that Asmo’s section is based on a true story. Anyhoo~ onto the Headcanons!

Why? Why Him? (Lucifer)

Is MC really dumb, or are they just a kid? No one knows.

Obviously MC asked Lucifer, the only competent one in the house, the most professional, hard-working, controlled-

MC got their things together and gave Lucifer the run down on their teacher(s) before Lucifer got too absorbed in extolling his own virtues in an intense internal monologue.

News flash Lucifer, this isn’t a Shakespeare play, you can’t have a dramatic monologue or soliloquy about how great you think you are

At the actual meeting, if MC is in there, no, MC is not actually in there. Lucifer will speak to the teacher as if MC isn’t there. As someone whose not a spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down kind of person, Lucifer expects the teacher to behave the same and not spare MC’s feelings.

Feelings do not deserve to be spared if MC is being a nuisance. No fake-kid/little sibling of his gets to be the class idiot!

If MC’s doing very well academically, he expects to be pointed at projects or tests they’ve done and the grade on it. It really makes him proud to see MC doing well.

Even if they’re not the best academically, if they’re not failing and they’re doing well in other aspects of school, he’s proud.

If MC really struggles in a school environment and just hates it there but they’re still keeping their head above water, they get a head pat of approval.

On the drive home, if MC came with him to the parent teacher interviews and everything went well, he just happens to turn onto the street that has a Baskin Robin’s or something of that caliber.

If they didn’t go, he picks something up on the way back.

No fun treats if MC is being a disruptive little heathen in class, no kid under Lucifer’s care is going to be the class Mammon. Not on his watch.

MC was busily stuffed their face with the treats that were gifted to them. Lucifer had to hold himself back from rolling his eyes at the kid’s blatant disregard for basic table manners when it came to sweets.

“Is everything the teacher said true?” Lucifer asked, MC looked up at him with a smile.

“Yep!”

“Good, good.” Lucifer held out his hand and patted them on the head. “You’re doing well. Keep it up.”

“Geez,” MC mumbled as they continued to stuff their face. “Can you get anymore affectionate?”

“Don’t be sarcastic, MC. It’s uncouth.” Lucifer said sternly. “Besides, I’ll have you know that many people enjoy my headpats. I’m quite affectionate.”

“Really now? Name one person.”

Lucifer opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out. He and MC stared each other down, one pair of eyes much more nervous than the other. Spoiler, MC was still calmly eating their treat as they maintained eye contact.

“…Cerberus.”

“If you’re reaching for Cerberus, you’ve already lost.”

…his pride was under attack. Right in front of his desert…

“You’re grounded.”

“Worth it.”

*Rides by on a Skateboard* School is for NERDS (Mammon)

Pff! Stupid human! He’s not goin’ to some lame parent teacher conference-

Wait! What’s with that face?! Ugh… fine. MC’s gone and forced his hand with those damn puppy dog eyes…

Mammon does not dress up for this event, he dresses like he would every day, maybe throw on some designer stuff to let all the parents and teachers know he’s hot shit.

If MC goes with him, he pulls up in his beloved car and takes up two parking spaces (pure evil.). Every parent present already hates him, but at least the other kids there are impressed with MC’s sweet ride. MC would have gained some street cred if Mammon hadn’t managed to trip up the stairs to the classroom in front of everyone.

He’ll act way to casual with the teacher, turning the parent chair backwards and sitting down so he can lean on the seat.

Mammon gets bored crazy quickly while the teacher lists and explains all the stuff the class is learning, so his eyes begin to wander to any and all displays in the classroom. Projects, annoying posters, class pet, anything is more interesting than this teacher’s explanation.

When MC finally becomes the main topic of the interview, he’s all ears. MC’s doing great in school academically? Ha! Nerd! Maybe giving MC a playful noogie and interrupting the whole interview wasn’t a good idea, but whatever.

If MC’s failing anything, or just isn’t that gifted when it comes to grades, it’s very much a “Aw man me too” from Mammon.

This teacher is speaking with the Great Mammon, the first demon in RAD’s history to fail three semesters in a row. If this teacher thinks bad grades will phase him, they’re dead wrong.

Grades don’t mean anythin’ about smarts anyway! I mean, look at him! He’s a fuckin’ genius but he can’t get through a history test without sobbing even though he LIVED THROUGH MOST OF IT.

MC gets treats no matter what’s up in class. Though, if MC didn’t go with him, he’s likely to forget and just order something for the two of them when he gets back home.

“Goddamn teachers and their rambling!” Mammon whined, grabbing a slice of pizza from the open box on his coffee table. “You owe me, MC! Ya really do!”

“Yeah yeah yeah.” MC said, they leaned over and rolled a pizza slice into a pizza-scroll then proceeded to eat it like a veggie roll. “How do you think I feel, listening to them every day? You know how long it takes to get to the actual class material?”

“Five years?”

“Ugh! Five years if I’m lucky! I swear, I know more about my teacher’s grievances with like… five of my classmates than I do about trigonometry, and guess which one’s on the test next week?”

Mammon winced in sympathy, then remembered he was supposed to be whining and went back to it. “School’s shit and a waste of money, ya should drop out as soon as you can and help me run my new business.”

“You mean your pyramid scheme?”

“It’s not a pyramid scheme, MC! It’s legit! It’s a multi-tiered marketing-”

“It’s a pyramid scheme.”

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA SOCIAL INTERACTION (Leviathan)

Everyone else must have been sick or something for MC to have asked Levi. He’d flat out refuse to go otherwise.

So, Levi couldn’t exactly go to the interview in his usual “I haven’t left my room or changed clothes in eight weeks” look. With the help of MC, he was able to find his military uniform at the back of his closet.

Asmo nearly fainted when he saw Levi in the uniform, not because “oooo, a man in uniform~”, it was because the outfit was so crumpled and wrinkled that it made it physically painful to look at. No time to iron and wash, the conference was in an hour!

Levi (and MC if they went with) rolled up to the school in a less than impressive ride, but one look at the uniform and all the other people present went “yep, time to be respectful (tm)”

For the first time in his life Levi was more intimidating than Lucifer! And he wasn’t even trying!

When the teacher starts explaining the course material, Levi spaces off in horror as he realizes he remembers literally nothing from school (AND HE’S STILL IN SCHOOL!) all that’s running through his head is “A squared + B squared = C squared” and “the mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell”.

The actual interview was the least interesting part of the trip, the real stuff happened when Levi passed by some art on display in the hallway and something caught his eye-

Those colours… that hair… that adorable smile..!

IT WAS HER! LEVI’S PRECIOUS RURI-CHAN IN ALL HER GLORY!

Levi immediately started fawning over the art class fanart and by sheer coincidence, one of the kids walking through the hallway happened to notice.

The kid asked MC if their… parent and or guardian liked anime. MC responded with “obviously.” Levi then asked the kid if they drew his adorable Ruri-chan. The kid said no, and that they drew the My Hero Academia fanart a few rows down.

Levi was absolutely floored that there were two anime fans in one class, then his entire world shattered when MC explained there was more anime art inside the art room and other classrooms.

H-hang on… did that mean that… a lot of people here… liked anime..?

Levi needed a while to process. No snacks on the way home…

Levi and MC were sat in the back of their Uber, Levi, the Avatar of Envy himself, was having his entire sense of reality warped. S-so much anime fanart… in a school of all places..! What did this mean for the future of anime?!

“Levi. Stop.” MC sighed. “If this were an anime, the camera angle would be doing that thing where it’s right on the bridge of your nose and dramatic music plays in the background.”

“S-so many kids in your class like a-anime huh..?” Levi stuttered, weakly trying to smile. “Must be nice..?”

“Oh, that’s just my class. The other classes and grades have their fans too.”

“Oh… really?”

“Levi,” MC stopped looking out the window and looked at the otaku that was having a full scale silent mental breakdown. “Anime isn’t even a niche interest anymore. It’s a pretty casual thing to watch now. At least a third of my class watches- Levi?”

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGHHHHH! ANIME! A THIRD OF THE CLASS?! ANIME… HIS PRECIOUS ANIME… WAS BECOMING A NORMIE INTEREST! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-

“Levi?” MC waved their hand in front of their spaced out demon’s face. “Leviiiii? Okay he’s dead.”

The Know it All (Satan)

Ah, a smart choice, MC. Satan would be glad to help further their education. He’ll do everything in his power to make sure that the human’s brain is fed all that sweet sweet knowledge.

Satan can’t dress himself normally, MC had to coax him into a suit jacket, but he still only wore one sleeve.

MC was coming along to the interviews whether they wanted to or not, it’s important to hear what they need to improve on from the teacher themselves after all.

The two arrived pretty early, so Satan asked MC for a tour of the school. It was pretty tame until they reached the library. Satan was horrified at the state of some of the books…

Their spines lined with duct tape… pages missing and torn… someone apparently used a taco as a book mark…

The first thing Satan does when it’s time for his interview is demand the teacher take better care of the library, even though they’re not the librarian. MC tries to explain this, but Satan is too distraught to listen to reason.

He enjoyed hearing about the course material, but he made it known if MC thinks the assignments are too easy that they need to be given more challenging work. THEIR BRAIN NEEDS TO BE STIMULATED DAMN IT.

It was up to MC to either agree with Satan and nod to the teacher, or make frantic eye contact with them to try and communicate “NO DON’T PLEASE”.

Similar to (ugh) Lucifer, as long as MC is doing their best, he’s happy for them.

…but if they are in any way in the running for valedictorian he is HELPING THEM WIN.

He decided to stop at a cafe or bookstore to let MC pick out a “congrats on surviving your pitiful school” present after the interviews.

MC gleefully perused the shelves of the bookstore, there were so many books too look at…

“I’ll buy you as many books as you’d like, MC, just,” Satan shuddered slightly. “Promise me you won’t treat them like those poor library books…”

MC put their hand over their heart. “I swear on the duct taped book spines that I will never treat a book like that.”

“Good… good…” Satan breathed a sigh of relief and went back to looking at his book about cats.

“Are you… reading a Warrior Cats book..?” MC asked tentatively.

“Yes, why?”

“Satan, put that back.”

“I Will Seduce the Teacher For the Sake of Your Grades, Don’t Worry.” (Asmodeus)

Oh MC dear! He’d be delighted to go! Just let him get ready~

Asmo may not be the best choice, but he was at least going to be the best dressed person at that conference. (And MC just had to come too so all the other parents could be jealous of how well coordinated their outfits are)

He teased MC a little by saying he was going to flirt with their teacher to make sure they passed the class, but he was just kidding! …but he made sure to ask if their teacher was cute, he needed to know!

While waiting for his turn, Asmo flirts with some of the single parents, if he doesn’t see a wedding ring, they’re fair game.

Once his time slot arrived, MC realized that Asmo is one of those “my child has done and will do nothing wrong ever” types. This may have ended up working in MC’s favour if they were a class nuisance.

If MC is doing very well in sports, clubs, grades, anything, Asmo is fawning over them and gushing to the teacher about how great, smart and adorable they are.

Asmo surprisingly does not exactly flirt with the teacher, he was just teasing MC after all. But um… if MC’s teacher just happens to be cute and young, he may turn up the charm, just a little. Enough to make the teacher giggle and make MC cover their face in embarrassment.

After the interviews Asmo will probably schedule a nice day out for the two of them, shopping, a movie, mani pedis, something fun!

The real weird stuff happens in the months after the interviews… if Asmo did lightly flirt with the teacher, MC gets quite a few questions about their guardian. Questions that ask if Asmo is single in not as many words…

Oh lord, MC’s teacher developed a crush on Asmo.

Nail painting night was supposed to be a fun occasion, but MC was hopping mad and embarrassed. Asmo didn’t seem to notice as he continued to paint the little human’s nails.

“And then I told Phenex to get lost. The nerve of that little monster, right MC?” When MC didn’t reply, Asmo looked up and tilted his head. “MC?”

MC’s angry face would have been much more threatening if they weren’t just so adorable, but it was getting the message across.

“MC..?”

“Asmo.” MC’s glare deepened. “My teacher wants to know if you’re single.”

Asmo blinked a few times, before he hit his tongue to keep from laughing. “Really now~. I knew they’d be madly in love with me-”

“WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIIIIIIIIIIIS?!”

Oh My Demon King is That a BAKE SALE?! (Beel)

Of course Beel said yes! He’d gladly go to MC’s parent teacher interview!

He even put on a nice outfit :D he ended up looking a bit like a secret serviceman guarding MC, the tiny president.

Beel stopped for McDonald’s on the way there, all the other kids were so jealous of MC when they stepped out of the car eating fries.

But a little something something caught Beel’s eye when he and MC walked into the school… was that a… bake sale?

MC quickly explained that the bake sale was fundraiser for their class trip that year and the snacks weren’t complimentary. He had to pay.

And pay Beel did. He cleared out the entire table. MC’s grade’s overnight trip was going to be decadent as hell. That was no longer a crowd funded thing, that trip was privately funded by a tall buff ginger secret service member and this tiny in comparison child.

Kids are incredibly blunt, just like Beel, so when a random kindergarten kid wandered over, looked up at Beel, and very knowingly said “you’re very tall”. Beel was like “yeah”. The kid then said “what’s it like being that tall?”

Beel’s response to this kid’s question was to pick them up and hold them for a few seconds before placing them back down. For just a few moments this kid knew what it like to be over 6’4. Of course, more kids swarmed in and asked to be picked up.

Sure it was cute, but Beel now has an army of kids ranging from kindergarteners to third graders.

Finally, the conference actually began. Beel snacked the entire time and dutifully listened to everything the teacher had to say.

After the interviews are over, he checks with MC to make sure everything the teacher said was true and that they weren’t lying. If all was well, the two made their exit.

They stopped at Wendy’s on the way home.

“I’m so full…” MC groaned, Beel held up a massive cookie.

“So I can eat this?”

“No. Gimme that.” MC took a very defeated bite out of it. “My stomach says no but my mouth says yes…”

“I don’t want you to get a stomachache, MC,” Beel said worriedly. “No more snacks.”

“It’s a little late for that. It’s past nine and I’m still eating, there’s no way I’m getting to sleep at a reasonable hour.”

“Oh…” Beel mumbled. “I may have not completely thought this through.”

“*Snore* Huh? Wha? MC’s Grades? Uh… Fuck…” (Belphie)

MC must be failing a class or something because why on earth would they pick Belphie otherwise.

They ask him to go while he’s delirious from just waking up from a nap, he sort of half nods and mumbles some gibberish before going back to sleep.

MC had to basically carry his ass to the school. Belphie drooled all over them in the waiting room, and when it was their time to go into the interview, Belphie had to be manually put into the chair and slapped awake.

He barely listens, he just sits and nods along with whatever the teacher is saying. The teacher could say MC brought an alligator to school and he’d just go “uh huh…” “mmmph… yep…” “really now?” then yawn.

The only thing that could possibly get Belphie to be interested is if MC is studying space. If they are, than boy howdy is Belphie suddenly interested in their education.

Other than that? *snore*

If MC is in fact failing or doing poorly, MC’s teacher asks to see another one of MC’s guardians at a later date. Their plan failed miserably.

MC drags Belphie out of the school and yells at him for not helping them. Belphie, still sleep delirious, tries to press the snooze button. MC does not have a snooze button.

“Belphie!” MC shouted, shaking the Avatar of Sloth awake. The House of Lamentation’s resident bastard was somehow sleeping standing up outside. “HOW COULD YOU?!”

“Eh?” Belphie half-snorted and looked around confused. “What’d I do? Where are we?”

“At my school! You said that you’d go to my parent teacher interviews!”

“…MC I don’t think I’d pass well for you.”

“YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO GO AS MY GUARDIAN!”

“Sheesh,” Belphie murmured while he rubbed the remaining sleep from his eyes. “You humans are so noisy.”

MC looked up at their dearest demon friend, and gave him their best glare. “I’m going to take all your fancy temperature changing pillows and switch them with normal pillows you traitorous bastard.”

[shemarmooresfedora]

Home

Series Summary: After being arrested, Spencer Reid desperately tries to get back home to his daughter, Camellia, who was placed into foster care in your home.

Pairing: Single!Dad!Spencer x Foster!Mom!Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Content/Warnings: mentions of Diana’s Alzheimer’s and Schizophrenia, prison, separation of father and daughter, swearing

A/N: i hope you guys enjoy my new fic! this may be about 8 chapters or so! i’m not sure yet, going to see how interested people are in the plot :) (also quick disclaimer: i have never been in the foster care system so please excuse any inaccuracies)

Masterlist

Chapter 1

Spencer never wanted his daughter to see him like this, being brought into the BAU bullpen in handcuffs. He was supposed to be the good guy.

Right now, he couldn’t tell if he still was. He had good intentions going down to Mexico to get non-FDA approved medicine for his mom but he may have killed someone in the process. If only he could just remember.

Camellia ran into his arms to hug him, a hug he so desperately wanted to return if it wasn’t for these stupid cuffs around his wrists.

“They can’t just take you away, Dad,” she cried.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I’m going to get back to you as soon as possible,” he promised, kissing the top of her head.

Spencer felt absolutely crushed as the guards had to drag his crying 11-year-old off of him so he could be taken to his holding cell.

-

You had just gotten off of work when your phone rang. Eileen, the head foster care coordinator, was calling.

“Hello,” you answered.

“Hey Y/N,” she greeted you, “I know you haven’t had a foster kid in a few months but I kind of have an urgent case. 11-year-old sixth grade girl. Mom has been out of the picture for a while, Dad recently imprisoned and on trial for murder. There are a bunch of family friends willing to take her but no direct family,” she explained.

“I can take her for as long as she needs,” you told Eileen.

“Great! I’ll text you the address, it’s the FBI headquarters.”

-

When you walked into the BAU, still in your dino scrubs and white lab coat, Eileen was surrounded by a frantic group of people.

“As I said before, I don’t doubt any of your credentials but this is the law. We can only give away a child to direct family at this point in time. If you are not direct family, you will need a lawyer to fight for custody as well as permission from her father but that process could take months,” Eileen stated.

“Spencer hasn’t spoken to his father in years and his mother is in a facility for her schizophrenia and Alzheimer’s,” a dark-haired woman spoke.

“Exactly so she must be turned over to the foster care system. I apologize to you all but this is how it works. We can’t bend the rules,” Eileen said.

“I don’t want Callie fending for herself in a house with 20 other kids,” a blonde-haired woman argued, “I’m her godmother. She stays with me all the time. She was staying with me while Spencer was in Mexico.”

“Sorry, my answer is still no. But, hopefully this will squash your concerns, Y/N!” she called you over, “This is Y/N. Jo will be placed with her. She is a pediatric doctor and currently has no other foster kids at the moment but all of her past kids have absolutely adored her. She always passes her surprise safety and wellness checks with flying colors.

“Hi,” you waved, intimidated by this huge group of frustrated people with guns on their hips.

“A doctor? So she isn’t even going to be home most of the time,” a curly-haired man scoffed.

“Actually, I own my own practice. I don’t work at a hospital so I usually have a regular 8-4 shift unless one of my patients needs urgent attention,” you clarified.

“JJ, don’t make me go,” a girl, who you could only assume was Callie, sobbed.

They were all staring at you like you were the worst person on Earth. You wanted to shrivel up and die. When you went through the process of becoming a foster parent, you thought this was a very admirable thing to do. You just wanted to provide a good home to kids in need.

“Do any of you have a key to Dr. Reid’s residence so Camellia can pack a bag?” you asked politely.

The woman closest to Callie that must be JJ pulled a key off of her chain and handed it to you.

“I’ll-um-leave my phone number and address here so you guys can contact me at any time or stop by. I understand your concerns but please know I try my absolute hardest to make sure all kids feel welcome and safe in my house,” you scribbled your information down on a scrap piece of paper.

“Are you ready to go, Camellia?” you asked softly.

She went around hugging everyone in the circle before solemnly nodding to you.

God, you felt like such an asshole.

-

After Callie finished packing her things from her bedroom in relative silence, you returned to the car.

“I don’t know what you like to eat but we can stop at the grocery store so we can get stuff you like and any other things you need,” you said.

You were met with silence from the backseat. You offered for her to sit in the passenger seat but she declined.

“Listen, I’m really not trying to be the bad guy here. Please don’t make me out to be one. I know you are having a tough time with your Dad’s situation right now but shutting everyone else out won’t help,” you spoke softly, “Trust me, I know.”

You sighed when the silence continued. You pulled out of the Reid’s driveway and headed to the grocery store.

-

You let Callie lead when you entered the grocery store, opting to follow behind her with the cart. She went immediately to the frozen meal section and started throwing them in.

“Camellia, that’s fine if those are what you want but just so you know, I love to cook so I can make you anything you want,” you offered.

“This is what I’m used to,” she spoke sharply, “My dad is not a bad dad, he just usually doesn’t have much time.”

“I never claimed he was,” you defended yourself.

After that, you kept your mouth shut. Clearly, she was a very independent girl and she had her own routine she liked to stick to.

-

You hauled all the grocery bags inside the house and unloaded them as Callie brought in her suitcases.

“So Camellia, I put all the food you picked out in these two cabinets. I mean obviously, you are welcome to anything in the kitchen but I just wanted you to know where the things you picked out were. I always have a grocery list on the fridge that you can add to,” you began to give her a tour of the house, “Bathroom is in there. There’s another upstairs. Here’s the living room with a TV,” you headed up the stairs, “Here’s my room.”

On your bed was an adorable toyger kitten cuddled up on your pillow.

“Oh! This is Winnie like Winnie the Pooh. I just got her a few weeks ago from a shelter. She is super friendly and loves snuggles so she will probably try to sneak into your bed unless you keep your door closed.”

“I don’t mind,” Callie spoke softly as she petted Winnie.

You smiled softly. These were the first words you got out of her that weren’t a rejection.

You continued the tour, “There’s a bathroom between our rooms but I tend to use the downstairs one so feel free to make it your own. And here’s your room,” you opened the door to a white room with a queen bed in the center, a small bookshelf, a few plants, and paintings.

“I hope this is good enough for now. We can go out this weekend to a home goods store if you want to redecorate. I’d even be open to repainting it if you want,” you offered.

Callie just set her bags down and nodded.

“Alright, I’ll leave you be. I’ll probably be downstairs for a while watching TV if you want to join. Let me know if you want me to make you anything,” you began to shut the door but Winnie slipped in first.

“Good night, you guys,” you smiled softly.

-

“Do you want me to wait out here or come in with you?” you asked softly.

Spencer had been denied bail, meaning he was transferred to a federal prison and Callie was going to be staying with you for a while. She had taken the news rather hard as expected when the team came over to your house to tell her. You still weren’t really accepted by the group so you mostly stood in the corner of the kitchen while they were all in your living room.

You had spoken to Eileen several times about Callie’s current situation. She gave you permission to do whatever you saw fit. This means you could opt her out of school one or two days a week if she wasn’t feeling up to it as long as she emailed her teachers and got her missed work in on time. You were researching different therapists for her to talk to because she didn’t seem to want to open up to you. You were also given a schedule of visiting times for her to visit her dad in prison.

“I’ll just go in alone,” she walked in the door to the visiting room, leaving you in the waiting room.

-

“Dad,” Callie tried to hug Spencer but the guard pointed to the ‘No Touching’ sign posted on the wall.

They both sat down defeatedly at opposite ends of the table.

“How are you?” Callie inquired, wiping her tears away from seeing her father locked up.

“I don’t want to talk about me, sweetheart. How are you? Emily and my lawyer visited yesterday and told me you had to be placed into foster care,” Spencer asked, concerned.

“It’s okay. Not the best,” she sighed.

“What’s happening? Are they hurting you? Are they not giving you enough to eat? Callie, I’ll have my lawyer on the phone and you out of there so quick,” Spencer frantically stated.

“No, Dad. Y/N is fine…nice, even. But she’s not you,” Callie cried.

Spencer’s face softened, “I’m so sorry, Callie. You don’t deserve to be dealing with any of this.”

“Just please come home,” she sniffled.

“I’m trying, sweetheart, I’m really trying,” he replied earnestly with tears in his eyes.

A/N: i will also be starting a series taglist if you don’t want to be added to my main taglist so just clarify which one you want to join! also i recommend listening to the song Home by Phillip Phillips because it is kind of like the theme song for this story

main taglist (just ask to be added/removed!): @samuel-de-champagne-problems @g0lden-cth @spencerreid9 @averyhotchner @coldlilheart @k-k0129 @ickleronniekinsemotionalrange @harrystylesandthegoobs @cmily @jswessie187 @rem-ariiana @hoodpankow @mochionly @spencerreid-187 @babymetaldoll @fics4arainyday @ssavanessa22 @all-tings-diego

series taglist: @ilovespencerreidmarryme