#add a scene where they try to contact the guy but they get voicemail or they mention theyre out of the country

[why-is-it-always-autumn]

my least favorite kind of plot hole remains the kind where the writers Did Not Have To Do This, there was another way they could have written this situation to avoid the plot hole without adding characters/screwing up the runtime/going over budget/any doylist reason for plot holes to happen, but instead they’ve written this thing that’s completely impossible to make sense of from a watsonian perspective, proceeding to strain or break my suspension of disbelief and screw over any fic writer trying to stick exclusively to canon lore

[thisissirius]

shatter the walls (waiting for so long) [1/4] [ao3 link] eddie/buck, stalking, missing persons 

“Eddie’s been getting these letters,” Buck admits, ducking to avoid the looks both Bobby and Athena give him. “We thought they were a joke. Someone just—getting a little too close, you know?”

Buck checks his watch for the third time and frowns. The last text from Eddie says he’ll be in about ten minutes ago. Not that it’s out of the ordinary; there’s traffic almost always in LA and Eddie runs late more often than he doesn’t. Still, Buck knows he’s supposed to be picking up Chris, dropping him with his abuela, and then coming into work. Maybe something’s happened to Isabel?

Chris is fine. So is Eddie.

“They’ll be fine,” Bobby tells him. “Eddie told me he’d be late.”

“Hmm,” Buck says, non-committal. He can’t shake the feeling something’s wrong.

The feeling is justified a moment later when his phone rings and Chris’ school comes up on caller ID. “Hello?”

“Can I confirm to whom I’m speaking to please?”

“Evan Buckley,” Buck says, trying to keep his voice even. Inside, he’s screaming at her to hurry up and talk.

“Thank you. I’m calling on behalf of Christopher Diaz. You’re listed as the emergency contact. Mr Diaz hasn’t shown up to collect him.”

Buck goes cold. “What?”

“He was due to collect Chris today,” the woman explains, sounding calmer than Buck thinks she has a right to. “He hasn’t arrived and we need someone to come and collect Chris.”

“I’ll be right there,” Buck says, hanging up the phone.

Bobby’s watching him, concerned. “What?”

“Eddie didn’t pick up Chris.”

Buck’s numb the entire drive. Bobby assures him he’ll check with other stations to make sure nothings happened. In the meantime, he gives Buck time to pick up Chris and drop him off. Buck tries to call Eddie four times but every one goes to voicemail.

“Eddie,” Buck says, the last time. “I really need you to text or something alright? I’m worried about you. It’s Chris .”

Eddie will never and could never abandon Chris. Buck knows that as surely as he’s breathing.

“Fuck,” he says. He schools his face into something less worried as he hops out of the car, waving at the teacher waiting patiently with Chris. “I’m so sorry. Something kept him.”

The woman smiles brightly. “No problem! I’m happy to wait with him.”

“Buck,” Chris says, looking concerned. “Dad didn’t come.”

“I know, buddy,” Buck says, giving the teacher a slight smile and guiding Chris towards his truck. Buck doesn’t want to lie but he also can’t explain. “Your dad’s had to run an important errand so I’m gonna drop you off with your bisabuela instead, alright?”

“Okay,” Chris says, ever the easy going child.

Buck’s heart is beating too fast and once Chris is buckled in, he gives himself a moment and runs a hand over his eyes. He heads for the driver side door and then freezes.

Eddie’s truck is parked in the parking lot across the street.

Not wanting to scare Chris anymore than he has to, Buck drops him off at Isabel’s, ignoring her offer to come inside, and races back to the school. He shoots off a text to Bobby and pulls to a stop behind Eddie’s car.

Buck’s heart is pounding as he peers inside the driver’s side. Eddie’s wallet is tucked into the center console, disguised as a cassette deck. It’s a joke gift, one Buck bought because Eddie’s a technophobe and a suspicious asshole, but Eddie’s used it ever since. Opening the door might mess with evidence, but Buck’s got to know. He tucks his fingers into his sleeve, careful as he opens the door. Tucking his hand under the seat, he feels along, heart skipping a beat when he feels Eddie’s phone.

“Shit,” Buck says, staring at the handset. Missed calls, texts, and a few reminders. They start that morning, not long after Eddie dropped Chris off at school.

“God,” Buck mutters. Eddie’s been missing since that morning?

Dropping Eddie’s phone onto the car seat, Buck pulls out his own, dialling through to Bobby.

“Where are you?” Bobby asks.

“Chris’ school,” Buck says. Then, quietly, “Bobby, I found Eddie’s car. It’s open.”

Bobby’s silent for a moment, two. “Are you sure he’s not just—”

“His phone was under the driver seat,” Buck explains, his heart racing. He wishes Bobby would understand . “We joked about doing it whenever we were in trouble. A joke, and it’s under there. Eddie wouldn’t even go to the store without that phone, Bobby. You know how he is with Chris.”

“Alright,” Bobby says. It’s a placating tone, but Buck’s known Bobby long enough to detect the concern there as well. “Call Athena. I’ll sort things out here and drop by.”

The phone goes dead. Buck’s hands are shaking as he calls Athena and he stares at Eddie’s care, hoping against hope that he’s dead wrong and Eddie has just gone to the store.

“Please,” he says to empty air. “Be okay, Eddie.”  

Athena shows up in a cop car, another trailing behind her. It’s her partner from the dog murder and Buck’s reminded of his and Eddie’s attempts to solve it. Shoving the thoughts aside—once he starts thinking about Eddie, he’ll never stop—and jogs to meet her.

“You better be right about this,” Athena says, climbing out of the cruiser.

“I am,” Buck says, with a certainty he wishes he didn’t feel. “This isn’t Eddie. He wouldn’t do this, not to Chris.”

Athena nods. “Stay here.”

Buck complies, though he wants to trail after them and listen in. He jams his hands in his pockets just for something to do with them, and forces himself to keep still. Eddie’s fine , he tells himself. Eddie’s fine, Eddie’s fine, Eddie’s fine.

“Buck.” Hen’s car pulls into the parking lot and Bobby climbs out.

“Is Hen with you?”

“I borrowed her car,” Bobby explains. It better be for a good reason, his expression says.

Before Buck can say anything, Athena approaches, a look on her face Buck can’t decipher. “Has Eddie said anything to you lately?”

“About what?”

“Anything out of the ordinary.”

“No,” Buck says, drawing the word out. A thought occurs to him and he swallows, hopes he’s wrong. “Though he does have a secret admirer.”

“Secret admirer,” Athena says, frowning. “In what way?”

“Eddie’s been getting these letters,” Buck admits, ducking to avoid the looks both Bobby and Athena give him. “We thought they were a joke. Someone just—getting a little too close, you know?”

Athena looks heavenward, as if asking for help, and Buck knows he’s getting yelled at in the near future. “Do you have any of these letters?”

“Why would I?” Buck asks. Then, at her glare, he holds up his hands. “Athena, if I had anything, I’d give it to you. If they’re the reason Eddie’s—wherever he is—I don’t know what help they’ll be now. Both Eddie and I touched them multiple times.”

There’s a pointed silence.

“Maybe he kept them,” Buck says, mostly to himself. A thought occurs to him, and he pales. “His house isn’t going to be a crime scene, is it?”

“Buck,” Athena says patiently. “We’re not even sure there is a crime scene.”

Anger flares up in Buck’s stomach. “Eddie wouldn’t just walk out on Chris, Athena. Bobby,” he adds, turning to Bobby with a pleading look. “He wouldn’t leave his phone or his wallet behind. What, you think he just walked into the woods and disappeared?”

“Calm down,” Bobby snaps, and Buck deflates, rubs his hands over his face.

Athena reaches out, squeezing Buck’s arm. “I just meant that we don’t know much at the moment, Buck. If there is a crime scene, it would be here, not his house.”

A headache blooms in the back of Buck’s head and he sighs, digging the palms of his hands into his eyes. “He’s got to be out there.” He drops his hands, looks plaintively at Bobby and then Athena. “He hasn’t disappeared, guys. I’d know—he wouldn’t just—I’d know,” he finishes, desperately. “Please.”

“We’ll find him,” Athena says, a promise in her voice.

It’s a promise Buck hopes she can keep.

A promise he needs her to keep.

[parismemes]

SENTENCE STARTERS FROM RED VS. BLUE SEASON 15

“you touch my baked beans, i put dog shit in your pillowcase.” “every other person in this miserable place is literal garbage.” “books on tape? what's the appeal of that? don't the pages get stuck together?” “when in doubt use a confusing acronym. military types love acronyms.” “FML. that stands for fu--” “i’ll bend down and kiss your boots, how’s that?” “i wanna know every step you take and how much shit gets stuck on your shoes and in-between your teeth.” “you know, i think i'll probably move to LA, but that's like what everyone does. i mean, what do you think?” “i’m gonna skin your cat for this.” “i’m actually thinking of adopting a stage name.” “i’m gonna smash cut your empty skull against that rock if you don’t shut the fuck up!” “i wanted to call it desert titties, but that shit was taken.” “ah, there goes the bechdel test.” “you should interview the illuminati!” “real talk here: i'll be your genie in a bottle, i'll do whatever you want, but after i grant you your three wishes, you gotta do something for me, whaddaya say?” “my ceaseless existence is an eternal torment!” “next time he calls you please, just, let it go to voicemail. don't transfer to me. okay?” “i can’t even hear myself think in this blizzard of idiocy!” “did you attempt to witness any other particular individuals in the general vicinity of the area in which the crime scene was alleged?” “i just wanna be included!” “funny, the vultures usually show up after the slaughter.” “you’re a little bit crazy, aren’t you? i like that.” “consequences... don't always take the shape we expect them to, do they? they're funny like that.” “...are we still married?” “people are quick to jump to conclusions. they see something, or hear something, and fit it into a preconceived emotional box.” “please don’t make me regret what i’m about to tell you.” “whoa, hold up--i just realized how much i don’t care.” “SUCK IT, NEWTON!” “we said we wouldn’t talk about that!” “help me be the best at being lazy.” “it was a simple mishap with my vanilla-satin scented candles!” “why is he naked?” “HOW DO YOU BURN DOWN A WATER PARK, ___?!” “we’re definitely not just saying that because she could kill us.” “for far too long our people have been oppressed, crushed, under the weight of ourselves! if we don't start standing up to our mortal foe gravity, by god, who will?” “we’ve never needed intelligence before!” “why doesn’t anybody die and stay dead?” “oh, cool! foreshadowing.” “who wants a poisoned pumpkin frappuccino?” “i quit. i’m not going. i’m staying here.” “you’ve always been selfish, but this is bullshit!” “you know, i liked them better when they were funny.” “it’s a bop-it.” “sleep. means. death!” “i know ___ said we should split up, but i was thinking maybe we split up together, you know, because it's scary!” “you talk about ___ a lot.” “this is a big city. so many places for snakes to hide. they could be everywhere all around us. watching us... licking their snake lips...” “jesus, doesn’t anybody speak esperanto?” “err is not a word.” “why do you look alone?” “why don't you tell us what's going on, and we can decide whether to kill you or not?” “looks like we've got quite the sticky mess on our hands!” “oh, i know all about sausage parties! uh, wait, that came out wrong.” “when I least expect it: whambo! you pry open my mind prison and suck out my brain beans!” “i realize now that i’ve just spilled all my brain beans.” “we're just a bunch of dumb rejects hurling ourselves against impossible odds.” “i’m only saying something because i’ve been used enough times in my life already.” “nice! super awesome of you guys! that was sarcastic.” “don’t care. just help me with my dramatic exit.” “that's a great idea! i was just about to suggest it.” “i always say a marine without a code is like a car without a road.” “i always say the best defense is a really tall fence.” “i always say a good soldier is like a rollin’ boulder.” “i always say a mantra a day keeps death at bay.” “i've grown soft around these uncultured philistines.” “goddamn, i can’t believe i have to hear this shit in stereo now.” “you two look cozy.” “i didn’t realize you two were close.” “you’re being too hard on yourself. you’ve changed over the years, i’ve seen it myself.” “i've grown from being a dishonorable killing machine to an honorable killing machine. that's quite the journey.” “i changed my mind. you are evil.” “you don’t have to destroy the past to have a future.” “strategizing can wait until breakfast, at least.” “i killed them. i MURDERED them. i set my vengeance free upon them and it felt so good!” “are we gonna do some snooping around?” “have you ever considered a life in showbusiness?” “try harder, fuckface!” “can we please just bury the hatchet and focus on what's important?” “your mother’s lasagna is mediocre!” “if you guys had to get shot somewhere in your body, where would you do it?” “i can't hear you because some idiot shot my ear off!” “this whole situation is garbage enough to begin with, but... at least we're in it together.” “no plan survives first contact with the enemy.” “the only thing that would make this better is some music.” “we were pawns in their game. but the thing that I love about chess is that sometimes pawns kill kings.” “no, actually, i was raised by wolves. in the forest.” “sometimes i feel like people barely acknowledge my presence.” “something weird might be going on around here.” “anyone who's acting that squeaky clean must have some deep dark secrets.” “ha! gotcha! that's exactly the kind of things bad guys say!” “they used us, they destroyed our lives, and they haven't been made to pay for what they've done.” “you obviously love the sound of your own voice, so why don't you use it to tell its where the fuck our friends are?” “i’m going to kill you so hard, you’ll wish you were dead.” “we fought alongside each other for fucking years. how can you just turn your backs on us like this?” “you don't get to give orders if you're on the bad guys' side!” “now I have gonorrhea and a dead friend.” “stop. touching. my face.” “buckets! oodles! oodles of noodles and toaster strudels! tiempo de mucho. mucho de tiempo!" “yeah, well, i don't remember you being anything but a huge dick, but here you are being cool, so people change.” “yippee-ki-yay, motherfuckers!” “but.. i never got to say goodbye. or thank you for being my friend.” “i'm gonna need a week at the chiropractor when we get out of here.” “is it possible to hallucinate with your ears?” “i’m not here to kill you.” “uh-oh spaghetti-o’s.” “fuck me! fuck all of this!” “you should totally kill me if it strikes your fancy! no pressure!” “the world's best swordsman doesn't fear the second best. He fears the worst, because he can't predict what the idiot will do.” “i can't imagine us doing anything but making this all worse.” “shit, dude! you’re the best we’ve got!” “i like pushing small children down wells.” “can we please settle on a consistent denomination? are we using cardinal directions or are we using clock positions?” “i'm so sneaky. they don't even know what's happening. you can't even see me right now, ___. you're so confused.” “shut up and help me punch this fucking tank!” “as far as days to die go, it's a little overcast. so let's check our corners and make these bastards pay!” “let's light the fires and kick the tires!” “let’s dance with these monkeys and give ‘em what for!” “let's put the pedal to the metal and the rubber to the road!” “let’s get jiggy with it!” “let’s shoot this monkey full of heroin and put it on youtube! actually, let's not do that, it sounds completely horrible.” “let’s teach these midgets how to tango!” “honor, schmonor.” “scout's honor! except I was never a scout because I'm afraid of badges.” “why are we here?” “we don't know why we're here. it's still one of life's great mysteries, isn't it?” “i’m sorry i tried to kill you, it wasn’t personal!” “you'll be stuck between a rock and the frying pan.” “if i said that i would weep for them, would it make you feel any better?” “best friends should be able to say goodbye.” “i think you are cool. like, super awesome, amazing, cool and... i, i always felt like really awesome too, when we were hanging out together.” “i know with my other friends--who, even if you add them all up together aren't really cool as you--i know we're all gonna be okay.” “if you kill me, you'll just perpetuate this never-ending cycle of revenge and retaliation!” “he asked us to deliver an important message to you all. but then he just sang the ducktales theme song and fell back to sleep.” “you know i’ll never forget this, right? i mean, PTSD is forever, isn’t it?” “it’s not the sum of your parts that makes you who you are.” “these people have shown me that real heroes are not born, they're forged. a friend told me once that there's no fate but what you make. and i think he's right.” “alright, well, i'm just gonna try to forget that ever happened and never bring it up again.”

[spideyspoods]

Deception

Pairing: Peter Parker X F!Villain!Reader

A/N: Screw tumblr mobile for deleting my fic (again)!!!! You’ll probably notice that this seems similar to @marvelsswansong‘s series Kalopsia (would recommend) and I’m sorry about that, but it happened to be purely coincidental and we came to the conclusion that it was okay to post anyways, but I made sure to add a disclaimer anyways :)

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: Manipulation and a bit of angst. Far From Home spoilers!

Masterlist!

The class split up into their own groups, ready to explore everything Venice had to offer. Originally, Peter planned on sightseeing with Ned until he fell for Betty in what seemed like an instant. Unfortunately for Peter, he had no backup plan. He could either walk around aimlessly, pretending to be busy or muster enough courage to join Y/N L/N and her friends. It’s not like the latter was impossible, it was just complicated.

They’ve known each other since the very first day of high school and it seemed to be perfect. From the instant they talked, both of them knew that their friendship was there to last. She had stuck with him through the highs and lows; hell, she even knew about his biggest secret. Turns out hiding the fact that you’re some sort of superhero was hard to keep from your best friend.

So why was he nervous? Why did he feel his heart beating rapidly in his chest? He gripped onto the strap of his backpack hard enough to turn his knuckles white. Peter wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but he might have a small crush on her. Sometimes, she would talk or act in a certain way to make it look like she felt the same way as he did. “Hey, Parker!” a melodic voice called out, taking him out of his racing thoughts. His eyes shot up to see the very same girl in the center of a few classmates waving in her direction, “Tell these idiots that I’m not the one who crashed into Flash’s car!” He laughed, inching his way closer towards the small crowd. He had remembered that day all too well. “Seems like I have a video that says otherwise.” Y/N stared him down, disappointed in him not covering for her while he shrugged.

The water trembled and began to form erratic waves that bashed against the wooden docks. Peter felt chills run down his spine and made eye contact with her, to which she understood. A second later, a geyser shot up to take the form of a man made of water. “Come on, let’s move!” Y/N pointed towards a closed in area, pushing people away from the scene. She waited for everyone to follow, before turning to see a green ray blast through the monster. Y/N smiled, shutting the doors.

---

The class was dismissed, heading back to their small hotel rooms for the night. Y/N dried the ends of her hair while chatting with Ned and Peter. “I still don’t understand how you were so calm during that whole Mysterio thing.”

“Hidden talent. I’m just a calm person.” Y/N folded the towel, and looked to Peter who seemed to be somewhere else. “Earth to Parker, you doing okay?” “Hey, give him a break. He just fought a water demon, Y/N.” Peter shook his head, “Yeah, yeah I’m alright. I just can’t believe I’m one day into vacation and this happens.”

“Be proud of yourself, Parker. It was kind of cool,” Y/N trailed off, smirking. Peter’s cheeks flushed, while Ned watched the two of them with a knowing look. Y/N broke off the eye contact and coughed, “Well I need to get going before Mr. Harrington comes for me. See you later.”

Y/N turned around and turned the corner, still hearing Ned’s voice. “Dude she likes you!” While it was true, she couldn’t let her feelings get the best of her. The door to her room creaked open, Betty already sleeping peacefully. The phone in her pocket vibrated and she picked it up.

about to meet him. he ask any questions?

Y/N quickly typed a reply back, none. get him it’s almost showtime.

---

The following day, everyone packed up and found a black charter bus waiting for them. Peter sighed, knowing the reason behind the sudden change. Y/N stopped next to him, looking for him to speak. “I think Nick Fury hijacked our vacation.” Her eyes bulged out of her head, practically whisper yelling. “Wait you met Fury? You better tell me everything, we have nine hours to kill.”

Y/N took the window seat while Peter sat right next to her. “Well I met Mysterio, apparently his name is actually Quentin.” She stifled a laugh which was met with a playful grin. “Sorry, but who names their kid Quentin?”

He continued to explain everything from the elementals to his new mission in Prague. “Also Fury gave me this gift. Well it’s actually from Tony, but he gave it to Fury who gave it to me-” he continued to ramble, before calming himself down. He pulled out a wooden glasses case and he opened it carefully. Y/N’s breath hitched in her throat, realizing what it was. He slipped them on, hearing a computerized voice. “Hello, Peter. My name is EDITH which stands for ‘Even Dead, I’m the Hero. Tony liked his acronyms.”

“Yeah, he did.” his voice faint, sadness panged his face. Y/N looked away, focusing on the real task at hand. She would have to wait for the next pit stop, seeing as if EDITH could look right through her phone if it was on.

“Y/N remember. We’re in it for the long game.”

---

Two hours later, they arrived to their rest stop. Everyone practically ran to the bathrooms, while Y/N turned to the left. She stood in a corner, frantically typing on her phone.

He has EDITH and explained everything.

Y/N pushed open the door, to reveal a small wooden room with a pool table. Her eyes darted to Peter with his pants down, in front of a tall European lady who stood still and intimidating. “Y/N! I promise, this isn’t what it looks like!” Her eyes welled with tears and it took everything in her to keep them from streaming. “Well it seems pretty clear from where I’m standing, Parker.” She turned right around, making sure that the door shut loudly. Y/N wiped the tears away, stomping back to the bus and into a seat as far away from him as possible. She didn’t know why she felt jealous or why she was this angry. Peter was her best friend, and they were in no means together on any term. Yet, it felt like it was an unspoken rule between them. Nothing seems to make sense anymore, she thought to herself. Her phone chimed one more time.

Perfect. Don’t let your feelings get in the way.

But it was too late.

---

Y/N had iced Peter out completely. It was better this way, as she knew what would happen in a matter of days. He had tried so hard to talk to her, only for her to walk away or find someone else to talk to. Ned was too lovesick to offer any genuine advice while MJ could have cared less. He had nowhere else to turn to aside from his Aunt May. She wanted more than anything to see the two together ever since they had met, even going out of her way to drop hints to the two kids. His phone continued to ring, before being sent to voicemail. He had almost forgotten about time zones.

---

They arrived to the empty opera house, a few minutes before curtain. His annoyed classmates found their seats, Peter scanning for Y/N in hopes to apologize. He stopped Ned at the door, “Hey where is she?”

“Oh she’s still not feeling well. You messed up big time.” Peter pinched the bridge of his nose, “I know, I was trying to apologize to her but-”

Parker, are you in position? Fury asked. “No.” Ned furrowed his brows as Peter muted his mic. “I gotta go.”

After a grueling fight with the fire elemental, Peter felt drained. Quentin’s eyes fluttered awake before slowly bringing himself to his feet. “Come on, kid. I need a drink.” He staggered to a bar, detaching his cape. “I’m underage!”

---

“I can tell something’s distracting you, kid. What is it?” Peter sipped on what seemed to be his third lemonade of the night. “It’s just that I had this chance with this girl and I kind of blew it.”

“How so?” Quentin took another sip of his drink, resting a bruised arm on the wooden bar. “I’ve known her for a long time and while I was trying on this suit, she walked in and thought something else was happening. Even though it wasn’t, she wouldn’t listen to me!” He paused, lowering his head “I was going to ask her out tonight, too. She’s been ignoring me and that whole mission thing, it’s kind of a mess.”

“You’re right, you did blow it. Well what’s her name?” He chugged the amber liquid in his glass, waiting for him to speak. “Her name is Y/N.”

Quentin’s brows shot up and he drew back. He swore he could have felt his heart stop for a minute. Damn it. “I’m sorry to hear that, Peter. You’re a nice guy, and I think she’ll come around. Just give her some time.” He stated, hoping that he didn’t hear the shakiness in his voice. At that moment, a bartender handed Peter back the glasses which he didn’t even notice were gone.

“Those were just sitting on the ground?”

“Yeah, seems like it.”

“Well try them on!” Peter reluctantly put the glasses on his face, looking back with a little smile. He tried to gage an emotion from the man sitting across from him, but his face was unreadable. “Can I be honest?” Peter nodded. “They look a little dumb.” With a frown, he took them off and handed them to Quentin. “Try them on.”

“I can’t.”

“Try them!” He pushed them up on the bridge of his nose, raising one eyebrow. Peter began to see Tony in him; someone he could trust. “For the next Tony Stark, I trust you.” he muttered.

“What?”

He repeated the same thing, a bit more confident. “Maybe Mr. Stark gave them to me so I can choose who to give it to.”

“Peter, come on. Be serious.” Peter took back the glasses and tapped the side, “Hey, EDITH. Transfer all control to Quentin Beck.”

“What are you doing?”

“I’m doing the right thing.”

Any transfer will require confirmation.

“Stark gave you the glasses!”

“Stark gave me a choice, it’s my choice to make and I’m going to make it. Look, you’re a soldier! You stopped the elementals, you saved my life, you saved the world! He’d want you to have them.”

Awaiting confirmation.

“Confirm.”

Knowing that the kid was already too stubborn, Quentin reluctantly took them into his hands. “Thank you, it’s an honor. Now go and enjoy your vacation.” With one last smile, Peter collected his things and went out the door.

---

Y/N neatly folded her clothes back into her suitcase, zipping it up and setting it near the door. She huffed, just wanting to get this whole ordeal over with. The ornate hotel room filled with glimmering decorations and beautiful furniture felt empty, but she shook it off. She knew that she shouldn’t have gotten attached, everyone warned her but she did anyways. The silk curtains billowed in the wind and as Y/N went to close the window, she noticed two familiar figures with a projector piece. Peter and MJ. Shit.

Her phone chimed, a message coming from exactly who she thought it would be.

Got EDITH, meet me at the base. you and i have a lot to talk about.

Y/N bolted down the marble stairs and practically burst through the doors. She started to run, only seeing the faint light of the streetlamps. Minutes later, she heard someone call out her name. “Y/N!” Peter. He stopped her by holding her shoulders, making her face him. His brown eyes were filled with guilt and worry. “I’m so sorry, but you have to listen to me. Wait, I thought you were sick?” A part of her wanted to forgive him; to make everything go back to normal. Distancing herself seemed like the easiest way, but no one told her that it was the most painful way too.

“You’re right, I am sick” she snapped, wriggling out of his grasp. “Sick of you. I have to go.” Her words laced with venom unlike any other rang through his mind as she walked away without looking back.

---

Y/N took a deep breath before opening the doors. She had walked in the midst of their test run. Cloaked drones hovered, playing out a sequence. Quentin had taken notice of her entrance, making them pause. “Sweetheart.”

“Dad,” a bitter tone to her voice, “what do you need this time?”

“I thought we were on the same page. What was the one thing I told you not to do?” He crossed his arms, mirroring his daughter’s movements.

“Let my feelings get in the way.”

“Now imagine hearing that your target is head over heels for your own daughter. Crazy, right?” He looked down to her, eye contact unwavering.

“You don’t have to worry about that anymore.” Her mind drifting to the fight not even moments ago. “He told me everything that happened between the both of you. You’re making this harder for all of us, Y/N. You know, you’re just like your mother. You both let your feelings get the best of you.”

“Sure that I didn’t get it from you?” She stepped past him, only for him to grip onto her forearm. “Y/N you have to understand, I didn’t want to hurt him. Now you’ve left me no choice.”

“What do you mean? We agreed to leave him out of this!” Her voice rising.

He let out a wry laugh, turning away just to look back at her. “Were you not going to tell me that he knew? A projector is missing and both know who has it.” Of course he knew, she never managed to get anything past him.

“Dad, please” she pleaded. Deep down, she felt like a fool. This would have been avoidable, after all. Quentin’s eyes softened, and he pulled her in for a hug. “You know that I only want what’s best for you, right? In fact, I’ve got a brilliant idea and I can’t do it without you.” Her father’s demeanor changed under a split second, and she never knew what was going on in his head. An illusion of his own, she would tell herself. It looked like he was so wrapped up in fooling others with disguises and holograms that he forgot who he truly was. Her father wasn’t always like this, it only started to show years back when he let jealousy dictate his every move.

“What are we making this time?”

“Something tailored for the kid. Maybe these emotions had a silver lining, you know everything that he’s terrified of, right?”

Y/N hated that she continued to fight for him, knowing how many lives he had thrown away, but early on she realized there was no other way out. Quentin’s assistants followed him into the lab to get started on Peter’s nightmare. Y/N lagged behind, looking to the surveillance of Peter finding the drone.

I’m sorry.

--

thank you for reading! feedback is greatly appreciated, but not required! my requests and taglist are open, both links are in my desc!

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[edxwin-elric]

Club Immortality

Rating: T

Pairing: Havolina/Jean Havoc x Rebecca Catalina

Disclaimer: I don’t own Fullmetal Alchemist.

Word Count: 2696

Title: Club Immortality

Description: Havolina One Shot – modern au

Rebecca and Riza are having a girl’s night at Central’s hottest club, Club Immortality, to celebrate Rebecca’s new job. Things get interesting when Rebecca’s phone goes missing and she enlists one of the bouncers to help her find it.

A/N: A very old request by both @random-rave and @royaigarbage. #13 - “I could kiss you right now!” from these prompts.

ffn || ao3

Rebecca

I take another sip of my drink and throw my head back, my hips swaying in time with the deep bass. The music is loud, the alcohol is strong, and the lighting is low—exactly perfect conditions for a night out. There are bodies everywhere because the club is packed, but I don’t care. I’m here to drink and to dance.

I steal a look to the edge of the room where Riza is still sitting at the bar. She’s supposed to be celebrating with me, but she’s still on her first drink. I wave to her, but she shakes her head. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that she’s over this scene since she spends so much time here, considering her boyfriend is the owner, but I can’t let that stop me from having some fun.

The song changes, and a smoke machine releases thick clouds from the ceiling, obstructing my view of her. Turning to the crowd, I lose myself in the moment, my body moving on its own. I make eye contact with a criminally attractive hot guy a few feet away and he moves closer, his large body crowding mine as the loud beat vibrates through us. I feel a trickle of sweat drip down my temple, and I reach up to lift my hair off my neck.

The guy’s hand finds my hip, holding me closer. I bite my lip and look to the ceiling. His head leans down until his nose brushes my exposed ear. I gasp, shutting my eyes as his tongue runs along the column of my neck.

“You taste like sex,” he rumbles into my ear. “I want it.”

I shake my head and playfully shove him, turning my back. His hand moves with me, sliding around to my pelvis, moving up my ribs. I lean my head back onto his shoulder and sway with him, my fingers running up his neck.

“Wanna get out of here?” he asks loudly to be heard over the music.

“Not yet,” I answer somewhat truthfully.

I don’t plan on leaving with him at all. I’m here with Riza, after all. Right now, I’m just having a little fun.

“If you say so.”

His hands go to my hips, pulling me back against him. I gasp at the feel of his boner against my ass. I frown and roll my eyes before reaching behind me and sliding my hand down between us. He grunts as I palm him over his pants, using the distraction to turn to face him again. With my hand still on his crotch, I lean up and shout in his ear.

“I’ll let you know when I want this, got it?”

He grins devilishly, and I suppress another eye roll, his hands sliding around my back. I let him fist my hair as I trail my fingers up and down his chest. After another song, I use my empty drink as an excuse to leave the floor. When I make it back to Riza, I feel sticky and out of breath.

“You okay?”

“Just a little overheated,” I gasp with a smile, fanning myself with my hand as I slide onto the stool beside her.

And a little aroused. I knew I wasn’t taking Hot Guy home tonight, but that doesn’t mean what he was doing to me wasn’t effective as hell at making me wet.

“You looked like you were about to be arrested for public indecency,” Riza chimes in.

“This is a private club,” I remind her. “As the owner’s girlfriend you should know that.”

“That doesn’t make it a sex club,” she points out, sipping her drink. “And I really don’t love the idea of having to explain to Roy why my best friend got thrown out for having anonymous sex on the dance floor.”

“Calm your tits, Riza. Sex with that guy was never on the table.”

“He didn’t seem to know that.”

“Yeah, well…he didn’t need to.” I shrug.

“Hey, what time is it?” she asks suddenly. “We can’t stay out too late. I need to check on Hayate, and you have work in the morning.”

“Oh, let me check.”

It wouldn’t do for me to finally get the P.A. position I wanted only for me to fuck up and lose it by being late on my first day. Sliding the hem of my dress up my thigh, I reach for my phone in the lace holster I’m wearing except…

“Hey, have you seen my phone?” I turn back to Riza and scan the floor around where we’re standing.

“What?” she frowns. “I thought you had it.”

“So, did I.” I show her my empty thigh band, and she blinks.

“Where did you have it last?”

I reach up and lift my hair off my neck with both hands, still scanning the ground. “I don’t know. Out there I guess.”

I look out into the sea of grinding, rolling, sweating bodies as the music swells around us. This isn’t good.

“Do you think he took it?”

“What?” I frown.

“That guy, the one you were all over. Do you think he could’ve taken your phone?”

I blink and suddenly remember his fingers trailing up my thigh while his teeth nipped at my ear. I wasn’t even thinking about my phone, but now…

“I think so, maybe.” I nod. “I’m not sure, but how do we find him anyway?”

There’s no way I’ll be able to track him down inside that throng.

“We could try calling it?” she suggests, handing me her phone.

I start to pick my name off of her favorites when I stop.

“He took it on purpose. Why would he answer it now?”

“Maybe he’s trying to get your attention?”

I roll my eyes and call my phone. If he is trying to get my attention, this is a stupid way to do it.

“Straight to voicemail,” I mutter darkly, handing the phone back to her. “Shit.”

“Okay, come with me. I have an idea.”

I don’t bother asking what it is, because anything she can think of is better than the pile of nothing I have to offer.

God. I would get my phone stolen by a hot guy the night before I start my new job, but, in my defense, I didn’t think “criminally attractive” meant he was actually a criminal!

Riza leads us to the far side of the dance floor where private booths are set up on a roped-off platform for priority guests. There are bouncers standing by to make sure only guests with VIP access gain entry. Of course, her boyfriend. Why didn’t I think of that? Though I’m not sure what he’s going to do, exactly.

“Which booth is he in?” I ask her as we get closer.

“What?” She frowns at me.

“Your boyfriend. Which one?”

“Oh, no,” she stops near one of the entrances. “Roy isn’t here. He didn’t want to steal your thunder tonight, so he’s working from home.”

“What?” I blink at her, momentarily distracted from the panic of having my phone stolen. “What does ‘working from home’ even look like for a rich night club owner?”

“Drinking whiskey and watching HBO, I assume,” she mutters. “I’ll find out after we get your phone back.”

“Right.” I nod. “So…what are we doing over here then?”

“Havoc,” she says loudly to the bouncer beside her. “This is my friend, Rebecca.” She signals toward me, and I step closer.

Holy shit. Bouncer Guy is HOT. Like, I wasn’t really paying attention before because, well, phone stolen by a literally criminally hot guy, but whoa. Not only does he have hair exactly my preferred shade of golden blonde and a jaw line that could cut diamonds, but he is ripped. Like, his entire torso—chest, shoulders, arms—is positively Herculean, and his black shirt does nothing to hide it, which is probably good since he’s supposed to be muscle here.

“Um, hi,” I semi-shout over the pounding bass when I realize they’re both staring at me, waiting for me to say something. “Havoc,” I add, shifting my weight.

“Jean.” He grins, and I let out a tiny gasp when I feel a spasm between my legs. “What can I do for you ladies?”

A thousand dirty responses flash through my mind at his question. Luckily, I don’t say any of them.

“An asshole stole my phone,” I tell him loudly.

His eyebrows rise and he turns to look at Riza, crossing his arms.

“What happened?”

“She was dancing.” Riza throws a hand out toward the pulsating crush of people. “He came up to her; they danced together, and at some point, he snatched her phone.”

He looks back over at me, his eyes traveling up…and then back down. Another spasm. Damn his stupidly blue eyes. They can see straight through me.

“Where?” he asks suddenly, still looking me over.

I blink.

“What?”

“Where was your phone?”

I feel my cheeks go slightly pink, but I try to ignore it.

“Here.” I thrust out my leg and slide the fabric of my dress up, revealing in the empty holster.

“Aha…” he says slowly, meeting my eyes. “And you didn’t notice it?”

“We were kind of…physical while we were dancing,” I explain as I stand and adjust my hem. “Anyway, can you help me?”

“Maybe. Follow me.”

Jean leads us away from the noise to an almost invisible door on the back wall. It leads to a hallway, which has other doors, one of which leads to a security office of some kind. Jean ducks inside and pulls out a chair in front of a computer screen and waves for me to sit down.

“Look through this footage and tell me when you see your guy.”

Leaning over me from behind, he pulls up the cameras from the front door and starts replaying it from the beginning of the night.

“I’m gonna call Roy really quick,” Riza says suddenly. “I’ll be back.”

She slips out the door, and Jean leans down more, his arm brushing my cheek as he shifts the mouse.

“Anything yet?”

“No, not—wait! That’s him! That’s the hot guy!”

I point to the dark man on the screen.

“Really?” he asks with more than a hint of surprise. “You’re sure?”

“Yeah. Of course.”

“So that’s your type then?” he mutters, with an annoying amount of judgement. “Circle sunglasses and a fur-lined vest?”

“What? No!” I crane my neck to glare at him. “Shut up. Who asked you anyway?”

He laughs softly, and I feel like growling. It’s not like he was wearing the glasses and vest when we were dancing. If we were, I clearly wouldn’t have been into it. Ugh.

“Move over, sweetheart.”

I open my mouth to tell him not to call me “sweetheart” when he shoves my rolling chair aside and starts doing things to the computer. When he stands up, he grabs my hand and pulls me to my feet.

“I sent his face out to all of our guys. If anyone sees him, they’ll hold him, so if he hasn’t already left the building, we can probably get your phone back.”

“Really?” I whisper. “You can?”

“Sure.” His pocket vibrates, and I watch him slide out a slim black phone. “Looks like we caught him already. Let’s go.”

Taking my hand again, he leads us back to the main room and around to the bar.

Where Not-So-Hot Guy is sitting, waiting for a drink.

“Excuse me, are you–”

“Give me my phone, jerk,” I interrupt from behind Jean.

“I’m sorry,” Not-So-Hot Guy grins slowly. “What was that?”

“Mr. Rice?” Jean asks, moving in front of me. “It seems this young lady lost her phone earlier. She seems to think you might have located it.”

The guy pretends to think and gives his head a small shake before raising a finger to his lips.

“Hmm. I don’t remember finding a phone. Sorry, but I don’t think I can help you.”

“I know you have it,” I hiss.

“Just hand over the phone, and I won’t have the owner eighty-six you for life,” Riza moves up beside Havoc and crosses her arms.

Not-So-Hot Guy whistles low as he appraises her.

“I’m not really sure you’re in a position to make such a threat, but damn you look fine doing it.”

“As his girlfriend, I think I’m in a pretty good position.”

“Oh, you’re Mustang’s girl?” his eyes glint. “Care to share what other positions he puts you in?”

Riza tenses, and Jean steps forward.

“I think that’s enough. Before I escort you out, I’m going to have to search you.”

“Search me?” Jerkface stands up, a sneer twisting his features. “I don’t think that’s legal.”

“Legal or not it’s policy to prevent guests from being robbed, so unless you care to produce that phone now, I–”

“Just hand it over, creep.” I step out from behind Jean and glare at the guy. “Why do you want it so badly anyway?”

“Oh, did you say a phone?” he feigns realization. “I found one of those earlier. Actually, I was just about to give it to this nice bartender here.”

His eyes are seething behind his false smile as he pulls my phone out of his pocket. I snatch it, and move away from him, checking to make sure it’s all right.

“See, that wasn’t so hard,” Jean smirks at him. “But since you insulted Ms. Hawkeye, I’m afraid I’m going to have to have Breda escort you out.”

“What? That’s bullshit! I gave her damn phone back–”

The stout bartender comes around and grabs the guy by the scruff of his collar and starts dragging him to the door. When he’s gone, Riza’s phone rings. She walks away to answer it, leaving me alone with Jean.

“Is everything there?” he asks over my shoulder.

“What? Oh, yes.” I hold up my phone. “God. I have no idea what I would do without this thing. Seriously, I could kiss you right now!”

He blinks, and I feel heat rush into my face.

“Not that I—I didn’t mean–”

“Hey, if you’re offering,” he interrupts, lowering his head to mine, “I’m not going to stop you.”

I stare at him, unable to formulate a response to that.

“I’ll take that as a ‘no,’ for now,” he grins slowly.

“What?” I whisper.

His grin spreads wider, and I reach up to put a hand on my chest where my heart is tripping wildly.

“Here’s my number,” he goes on, pulling a business card out of his pocket. “Feel free to call me anytime.” He pauses and meets my eyes before finishing, “Becca.”

“Okay, yeah.” I swallow and nod. “I will.”

“I’ll be looking forward to it.”

He walks away before I can say anything else, and I’m startled by Riza touching my shoulder. How long was I staring after him? It feels like I forgot how to breathe.

“Ready to go?”

“I think so.” I tuck my phone and the business card back into my thigh holster.

She looks past me, and then studies my face.

“You and Jean seemed to be flirting pretty heavily.”

“What? No,” I lie lamely. “That was–”

“You’re right,” she breaks in. “It was more of light seduction than flirting.”

I blink at her, but she grins, and pulls me toward the door.

“Come on. You have work tomorrow, and Hayate is waiting for me. Plus, I know you’re dying to get home so you can text Jean something naughty.”

I start to tell her I wasn’t going to do that, but the look she’s giving me says not to bother. She knows me too well, and yes. Maybe I was considering texting Jean, but he gave me his number, so he probably won’t mind.

When we reach the entrance, I look back and scan for him. I spot him for a split second, and I could swear he winked with that stupidly sexy grin on his face.

Yeah. I’m definitely going to text him when I get home. Luckily, he got me my phone back, so I can.

[goodlucktai]

get what you give

all for the game pairing: gen word count: 1823 title borrowed from you get what you give by new radicals read on ao3

x

Nicky checks his phone on a stolen five minute break halfway through his shift to find a forbidding voicemail and an alarming number of missed calls from the middle school office.

Heart in his throat, he punches redial. The secretary who picks up answers with a mellow sort of cheer that is the opposite of the urgency Nicky needs from her right now.

“Hi, Nicky Hemmick,” he says, right over the tail end of her practiced greeting. “I missed a call about my cousins-- Andrew and Aaron Minyard. Are they okay? What happened?”

Probably the right response is something other than automatic, knee-jerk panic, but this is all Nicky’s got. His break time comes and goes while the secretary has him on hold, and when the line reconnects, Nicky is greeted by the much more efficient vice principal.

“Your cousins are perfectly fine,” Mrs. McCaffrey says, sounding annoyed in that slick way professionals can get away with over the phone. “It’s a disciplinary issue that we need you here for, Mr. Hemmick, as soon as you’re able.”

His shift at Sweetie’s is another two hours, but one look at his face and the phone clenched in his hand has the other two servers trading knowing looks and assuring him they’d handle the rest of lunch without him.

“I have kids, too,” Lisa says. “I know how much a little extra help can mean, and you cover for me all the time. Now, scoot.”

“Bring those boys in for ice cream later,” Brian adds. “Something tells me the four of you will need it.”

Thanking a god he only believes in half the time, Nicky all but runs out the door. His car decides to be cooperative today, starting with a putter on his second twist of the starter, and with that he’s tearing across town like a bat out of hell.

The vice principal said they weren’t hurt, but what happened? Why was she so tight-lipped over the phone? He bends the speed limit, then breaks it, and pulls into the parking lot barely twelve minutes after hanging up the phone.

Nicky tries not to burst into the office, but he’s pretty sure that’s exactly what he does. He’s still got his waist apron on, his jacket thrown haphazardly on over his uniform, and he all but trips over the front desk in his haste to ask, “I’m here, I’m— Nicky. Where are—“

Before the bemused secretary can speak, a quiet voice says his name, and Nicky turns to find Neil on the bench seat just inside the office door, wearing a black jacket that isn’t his and sporting a colorful bruise on the left side of his face.

Nicky is crouched in front of him before he makes any conscious decision to move, cupping the little boy’s chin in one careful hand.

It took almost a year to get here, but Neil doesn’t flinch when his hand moves. He leans into the touch, eyes electric blue and stricken. He says, “It was my fault, not Andrew’s. No one will listen to me. Will you tell them?”

The vice principal is stepping out from behind the counter to meet him, but Nicky doesn’t get up right away. He faces her, so Neil doesn’t catch so much as the corner of his scowl, and says, “You told me they weren’t hurt.”

“Your boys are fine, Mr. Hemmick. Neil is—“

“I’m his emergency contact,” Nicky bites out. “You call me.”

“Let’s have this discussion in my office, please,” the woman says stiffly.

Well, now he has some idea what this is about.

Nicky gives Neil his keys to hold onto, waiting until some of the anxiety melts out of the boy’s tense shoulders. Neil traces the teeth of the house key with the tip of his finger and gives a little nod, and Nicky turns to follow the vice principal into her office. He only makes it a step inside the door.

“Woah, hey,” he says, when two nine-year-olds throw their full weight against his legs. He kneels, and their tight grips go from his waist to his shoulders. “Hey, c’mon. It’s okay.”

They lift their heads. They don’t look shaken. Andrew’s mouth is pressed into a thin line, and Aaron’s hazel eyes are blazing. They’re mad , pint-sized tempers blown, and that settles something in the pit of Nicky’s chest, cold fear receding into the back of his mind for another day. He can deal with this.

“It was Roman’s stupid fault,” Aaron snaps. “Andrew shouldn’t be in trouble!”

“Language,” Mrs. McCaffrey says, and Nicky doesn’t give in to the childish urge to glare at her. The boys do it for him a second later, anyway.

“How about you tell me what happened,” Nicky says. “Does this have anything to do with Neil’s bruise?”

“Roman’s a dumb fifth grader. He doesn’t like Neil ‘cause Neil beat his time on fitness day. He ran a mile in like six minutes, a minute and something faster than Roman,” Aaron says. His tone is a conflicted mix of aggravation and pride, pulled in two different directions by this bully and his best friend. “Today at recess Roman and his friends pushed Neil behind the bleachers but me and Andrew saw him.”

“You should have gone to a teacher immediately,” McCaffrey scolds them. “We don’t tolerate bullying of any magnitude. I know we went over the policy together at length when Andrew enrolled. If you boys had gone to a teacher, Roman would have been disciplined for his actions and the two of you wouldn’t be in trouble in the first place.”

“But Neil would have been beat up worse than he already was,” Aaron shoots back. “He shouldn’t’ve got beat up any.”

His hands are clenched in Nicky’s shirt. Andrew is a golden shadow at his side, a mirror image of frustration.

If they were as big as all their caring, Nicky thinks, they’d probably be ten feet tall.

“What happened when you two got there?” Nicky presses. He looks at Andrew this time, not liking how nonverbal the older twin has been so far. “Drew?”

He doesn’t answer for a long minute. His hands are shoved deep into his pockets. Nicky doesn’t push, and neither does the vice principal. Finally, giving each word up as though they cost him something, he says, “They were trying to pull off Neil’s shirt. They make fun of him for wearing long sleeves in PE sometimes.”

Dread creeps into Nicky’s chest and sets up camp there.

Neil guards his scars like his life is on the line, with a violent desperation better suited a drowning man than an eight-year-old boy. Nicky has seen them a few times, but never for very long, and only because Neil trusts him enough to part with his hoodie every now and then, for just as long as it takes Nicky to run a load of laundry.

Nicky is sick to his stomach at the mental image of Neil cornered by older boys, struggling to keep his ruined skin covered.

“He kept saying no and they wouldn’t stop,” Andrew goes on. “I made them stop.”

Nicky bites the inside of his cheek, but it doesn’t stop his heart from breaking. He pulls his boys in closer, squeezing them tight, and says, “Yeah, you did. I’m so proud of you.”

“Mr. Hemmick, ” the vice principal says, scandalized. “We do not reward this behavior.”

“Can you guys wait for me outside?” Nicky says, and they look up at him with trust in their eyes. Nicky would pretty much set himself on fire to safeguard that trust. “Neil could use the company. I just need to sort some stuff out here, and then we’ll head home for the day, okay?”

Aaron nods, and Andrew leads the way to the door. Only when it’s closed behind them does Nicky look at the vice principal. The fear and worry and anger gives way, and it’s all he can do not to shout.

It’s public school. What can he really expect from public school?

“Mr. Hemmick-- “

“I’m one more “Mr. Hemmick” away from causing a scene. I mean, a full-on scene. You knew when we came to you at the beginning that there were conditions. You promised them a safe environment. You promised you had staff with the right kind of training, to give them proper attention. You, personally, yourself, sat down in a meeting with their therapist so none of this would come as a surprise. We discussed this for so long. We talked about how traumatized kids might act out, and you signed off on everything with perfect confidence and all the right, pretty things to say to make me think they’d be okay here, and this-- this isn’t even the first issue we’ve had this year. And it’s barely November. What the hell is wrong with you?”

The woman sits behind her desk, looking slightly paler than she was when she greeted him. She shuffles papers for a moment, to give her hands something to do, Nicky guesses, and then waves him toward a chair.

“I apologize,” she says, and she sounds tired. “Please sit. Let’s discuss this from the beginning.”

By the time he joins the boys in the waiting room, someone had the good sense to get them something to drink. They’re all sitting in a huddle, clutching little paper cups, and look up in unison when Nicky comes over.

“Sorry, Nicky,” Neil says immediately, even though it makes Andrew pinch his arm.

“Are we still in trouble?” Aaron asks indignantly while his best friend and brother scuffle to one side.

“‘Course not, what do you take me for?” Nicky ruffles his blond mop. “Extra meetings with the counselor during the week, but we were talking about that anyway, right?” At their round of nods, he gestures toward the door. “C’mon, Neil. I signed you out, too.”

“Did they call my mom?”

“No, kiddo, they didn’t. It’s alright.”

Nicky shepherds them toward the car. Neil says, “Thanks for your jacket, Andrew. Do you want it back?” and Andrew says, “No, idiot,��� and Aaron says, “At least we got out of English. I hate English.” Nicky rolls his eyes at their rabble and makes sure seatbelts are buckled and doors are shut before he turns them onto the road home.

He has the morning off tomorrow, and a call from Erik to look forward to tonight. Neil will probably sleep over, so Nicky will order in, make dinner a little special, to take the last stressful edge off the events of this afternoon. With any luck, the worst is behind them for now.

Nicky recognizes Aaron’s favorite song when it comes on the radio, a few seconds before Aaron does. He turns it up loud, smiling at the delighted little hoot from the backseat, and lets the kids all scream along for the rest of the ride home.

[yourobedientslytherin]

The Upper Hand: Jefferson x Reader {Part 8}

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

Hamilton -- Modern Au (Law School)

Jefferson x Reader

1,676 words

We have finally made it, everyone! The final chapter of The Upper Hand. It’s been a long road for the reader and Thomas, filled with animosity, bad blood, rivalries, miscommunication, and misunderstandings. But this is the good part. I can’t wait to hear what you think of it!!

When you stumble through your door in the wee hours of the morning, you did not expect to find not one, but two men sleeping at your apartment. It had been a long, painful weekend, filled with avoiding your troubles with alcohol and going over the scene in the restaurant over and over. You had skipped a day of classes, needing some more time to process your life, which you couldn’t do if you saw Alexander and Thomas. Now, after all that emotional upheaval, you just want to go to sleep in the comfort of your own bed and not think about this until morning. But Alex is asleep on your couch, lying on his stomach with one arm hanging over the floor. He snorts lightly and readjusts his position when you close the door loudly behind you. His presence makes you suddenly realize the consequences of cutting off contact with all your friends. They must have been so worried about you. At the least you should’ve let Laurens or Herc know that you were okay. You set down your overnight bag next to your shoes and cross the floor to Alex. Your hand on his shoulder jerks him out of his sleep, and he looks around, confused and scared, for a moment. “Hey, Alex, it’s okay,” you say softly, comforting him. Recognition smooths the wrinkles in his forehead. “Y/N, you’re back!” You nod, unable to speak because of the tightness in your throat. “I’m so sorry,” he says. He sits up on the couch and runs a hand through his messy, loose hair. “I totally overreacted about Jefferson. And I let my bad feelings toward him get in the way of your happiness. Apparently.” At the questioning look in your eyes, he clarifies. “Laurens may have had a talk with me.” “I accept your apology, Alex. And I should apologize to you, too. I overreacted, especially by not answering your calls or telling you that I was okay. I just needed a few days to think about what I wanted, and I couldn’t do that if I talked to you or Thomas.” “Y/N, we were so worried,” Alexander says, touching your shoulder gently. “We thought you’d been kidnapped or gotten into an accident or something.” “I didn’t realize…” You felt sick. How could you not have let your own friends know that you were okay? How selfish were you? “I’m so sorry.” He wraps an arm around your shoulders. “Everyone went out looking for you, even Jefferson.” “Thomas?” your heart lifts. You were afraid that he had moved on. His last message sounded like he had given up on you. “Y/N, he really likes you.” Alex tries to keep his emotions under control. “We stayed here just in case you came back.” “We?” “Oh. Jefferson’s in your bedroom. He passed out by the time I came back.” He tries to stay upset with Jefferson, but the light in your eyes makes it hard for him not to smile. “He made a mess in your kitchen.” Your heart skips a beat. He’s here. You’d been over this scene countless times in your head—explaining your need for some time to yourself, apologizing if you confused or hurt him, hoping and praying that he would be willing to start over. The longer you went without talking to him, the more you missed him. You’d played his voicemails over and over again, relishing his sexy, constantly sleepy-sounding voice. Your heart hurt being away from him. Alex senses your longing and gets up off the couch, pulling his phone from his pocket. “Y/N, I’m gonna go call everyone and let them know you’re okay.” After a moment of contemplation he adds, “And I’ll go home too.” “Alex, are you okay to drive? You still stay on the couch. I don’t want you to feel like I’m kicking you out.” “Nah, I’m fine. Good luck, Y/N.” After he gives you a quick hug, he gathers his belongings. You leave him in the living room, making your way to your bedroom. The door’s partially ajar, and you can see the comforter has been displaced by a large mass. Thomas is lying in the middle of the bed on his back, one arm draped across his forehead, the other perpendicular to his body. The blankets cover his legs and waist, exposing his six-pack abs and toned chest. He’s a very attractive man, enough to get your heart racing and weaken your legs. All confidence leaves you, and you consider letting him sleep until a normal time of morning. It’ll give you more time to think about what you’re going to say to him. You sneak another look at him, feeling like you’re gazing on something you’re not supposed to be looking at. His expression is so relaxed, you’d hate to disturb him. You’ll just speak with him in the morning. You turn to leave and accidentally stub your toe on your dresser. An involuntary yelp leaves your lips, loud enough to wake up Thomas. He jerks up in bed, clutching the covers to his chest. “You better have a good reason for waking me up at the ass-crack of dawn,” he growls. You take a step back, affronted. That was really rude. He blinks away the sleep from his eyes and peers into the darkness. You realize he can only see your silhouette, not your face. He doesn’t realize it’s you. “Thomas,” you say quietly. “It’s me.” His expression fades from irritation to surprise. He slowly gets out of the bed and turns on the lamp on the side table, bathing the whole room in weak yellow light. He’s only wearing boxers, you realize, blushing. “Y/N, where have you been?” he asks, standing with his hands by his sides. His eyes search your face and body intensely, looking for any signs of harm or injury. “Angelica’s,” you whisper, guilt creeping into your gut. “Laurens called her. She said she didn’t know where you were.” “Apparently she has something against both you and Alex, so she was okay with lying to you guys.” “Why didn’t you call? Even just a text would have helped me stop worrying.” “I’m sorry. I just—I wanted some time to think everything through.” “I was so scared, Y/N.” The pain in his eyes brings tears to your eyes. “I thought you’d been kidnapped or murdered or had gotten into an accident.” “I didn’t realize.” Your voice cracks as your throat tightens. “I’m so sorry.” A tear slips down your cheek, and in an instant, Thomas closes the distance between you. He wipes the tear away with the pad of his thumb, conveying some deep emotion in his gaze. He loves me. His strong arms wrap around your shoulders, pressing you into his chest. You melt into his embrace, squeezing him as tightly as he holds you. You stay that way for a long time, listening to his rapid heartbeat . And then, he pulls away, his hands cupping your face gently. “Please don’t ever do that to me again,” he whispers. You promise with a nod. Slowly, softly, he dips his head toward yours, your lips brushing each other. You sigh and your arms find his shoulders, pulling his lips close for another kiss. This one is deeper, more urgent, more needy. One of his arms wraps around your waist and pulls you into his body, the other cradling the back of your head. You feel like you can fly as you kiss him. You and Thomas break apart, breathing heavily. He rests his forehead on yours and smiles. “I’ve wanted to do that since the moment you threatened me in Washington’s class,” he admits, his thumb stroking your cheek. “You didn’t take me seriously?” He laughs. “Oh, no, I did. I was scared shitless. But it also kinda turned me on.” You blush and swat his arm. “Thomas!” “Come on, baby. You know you like it.” He winks, and you roll your eyes at his cocky attitude. “Dating you is going to try my patience.” “So you want to go out with me?” he asks pseudo-innocently. “I do, Thomas. You owe me a French meal. And a new dress!” “Oh, baby, you’re gonna get so much more than just that.” He picks you up and twirls you in a circle. You shriek and laugh. “Thomas, put me down!” “Only if you say the magic word!” “Please?” “No…but it rhymes with please.” You narrow your eyes as you think. A grin spreads across your face as you get an idea. “Mac ‘n’ cheese?” “Correct!” He puts you down but keeps an arm around your waist. “Are you hungry?” “Just the idea of mac ‘n’ cheese makes you hungry?” “Definitely! But I’ll settle for some waffles and ice cream.” “As you wish.” You take his hand and lead him to the kitchen. As you cook with Thomas, you realize you’ve never been more content and satisfied in your whole life. He constantly touches your waist, wrist, elbow, jawline, anywhere he can reach. And he kisses you any place he can find. Everything he does and says is to make you laugh, and you do laugh. Mostly at him because he’s ridiculous and has the same punny sense of humor as your father, the kind that makes you groan and hate yourself for laughing at because it’s so bad. Most of all, he looks at you like you’re the most beautiful girl in the world, like he can’t believe he has you. Like he desires to know you in every way, your attention, your humor, your goals and dreams, your weaknesses and strengths, your preferences in the bedroom, your embarrassing moments and your triumphs. As he tries to paint a face on you with whipped cream, you realize that you can be satisfied with this man for the rest of your life. And with that realization, you pull him close and kiss him with as much passion and desire and love as you can possibly have inside your soul.

A/N: Hey! I hope you enjoyed The Upper Hand. I know I definitely enjoyed writing it and hearing feedback from you guys, my amazing readers :) I planned on writing a cute fluff epilogue for The Upper Hand, but I won’t do it unless you guys ask for it. If you want another short scene of Thomas and the reader being freakin’ adorable and #relationshipgoals let me know and I’ll write it up!

Also, stay tuned for more oneshots and a future Jefferson x Reader x Lafayette three part! I also really want to write any requests you guys have, so don’t be shy!

[imagine-me-here]

I've Met Everything Except Aliens (Supernatural; Guardians of the Galaxy)

Notes: Edited RP with two internet friends.

L Adrian (Dean): https://www.pinterest.com/l4s0104/ Sky Low (Peter): https://www.pinterest.com/skylerlow12/ Me (Gamora): https://www.pinterest.com/ghostthewolf/ Summary:  Dean Winchester and Peter Quill share their love of girls, their rides, and classic tunes. Media:  Supernatural; Guardians of the Galaxy Genre: Crack, some angst Word count: 3,043 Warning: mention of parental abuse towards the end (there’s a warning right before)

Gamora’s POV

“Peter, are you trying to kill me!? I thought we were over that!” The Milano swerves and does a flip.

“No. Well, maybe…” He grins and does another flip “No.”

A set of mountains are visible through the fog and we crash into one of them, skidding along.

“Just land her already! Any longer and we’ll crash!”

“I’m trying, okay?!” He slowly lands her but hits something beneath us.

The Milano skids to a halt. Could’ve been worse, I guess. “What was that? We landed on something.”

“I don’t know… Let’s go check it out.”

I see a black car wedged under one of the Milano’s wings. Then I see the man inside. “Are you okay?! Peter, he’s hurt!”

Dean’s POV

My head hurts. I can hear muffled voices. It sounds like they’re talking to me. I open my eyes slowly and see a green woman pulling at the door.

“How did I not see a black car?!” A man’s voice says.

I feel hands grabbing me. I cough, feeling blood trickle down my chin. “Thank-” I gasp before completely blacking out.

Gamora’s POV

“We need to get him on the Milano and fast.” Peter picks him up.

I help Peter pull the man out of the wreckage. He’s really quite handsome, actually, and Peter catches me staring.

“Let’s get him in the Milano.” I repeat quickly, avoiding eye contact.

Dean’s POV

I groggily wake up to bleeping noises. Opening my eyes, I gasp. I’m in some sort of spaceship! “Where…”

“Hi.”

I turn and see a young man with a beard looking at me. “Uh, this place yours?”

“Yup.”

“It’s pretty nice. But a little dirty.” I sit up and run my hand through my hair. “Who was that green woman?”

“That’s Gamora.”

“Okay. Why am I here?”

“The Milano.”

“Because…?”

“Well, we accidentally crashed your car…. and you were unconscious.”

I rub my head. “So that’s what that noise was,” I mutter.

“What noise? There’s no noise. I don’t here a noise.”

“I meant the noise I heard just before you landed on the roof of my car.”

“Uh… there was a noise?”

I nod. “Yeah. Then a crash. Then I blacked out.”

“What did the noise sound like?”

“Like a really loud engine.”

“That was the Milano.”

“Guessed that.”

“Okay, then why did you ask?”

“Confirmation.”

“I can understand that.”

I lay back down. “How bad has my car been damaged?”

“I don’t know.”

“Hey. Are you okay?”

The green woman, Gamora, rushes back into the room with bandages and a first aid kit.

She’s freaking gorgeous. I close my eyes to think.

“Uh? Hello? Peter?”

I smile a little. Those are two sentences that summarize my relationship with Samny.

“Sorry. What’s your name? I’m Gamora. And, uh…yes, I’m an alien.”

I smile again, then open my eyes. “Wha-oh right. Sorry, bit lost in thought. My name’s Dean.”

“I’m Star Lord,” the man adds.

I raise an eyebrow at Gamora. “Star Lord?”

“Yes, Star Lord.” Star Lord repeats. Gamora gives him a look.

I shrug. “Okay. So, how bad has my car been damaged?”

“Dunno.”

“Come on. We’ll go out and check.” I put on my boots.

I nod and get off. Then grab the table as a nauseous feeling comes over me. “I-I’ll need help.”

Gamora rushes over and puts her arm around my shoulder. “Are you alright? You can stay in here if you’d like.”

“I’ll stay with him.”

Dean shakes his head. “No, no, I need to see how my car is. Please.”

We climb out of the Milano and into the wreckage. Amidst the crumbled asphalt road is a mangled heap of black and silver metal.

I stare blankly, slowly registering that the wreckage in from of me actually was my car. I stumble to it and touch it. “Sorry you’re so banged up, Baby.” Tears start to form. “I’m sorry.”

Gamora cross my arms and gives me another one of those death stares. Sheesh. This woman is scary. “‘Baby?!’ That’s almost as bad as Peter and 'Millie’!”

I turn around. “Look, this car was my dad’s, and it’s one of the only things that wasn’t destroyed when my mom died, okay?”

“I’m sorry…I…didn’t really have a good childhood either.” I step back and put my arm around Peter. “Actually, we’re all kind of broken here.”

Gamora’s POV

“So…” I clear my throat and step towards the car. “We’ll see what we can savage.” I reach in and pull out normal human things—burger wrappers, mixtapes (a little dated, but understandable), and…FBI badges? “Peter, could you come here?”

Dean grabs the badges. “I’m not FBI, those are fake.” He walk over to the trunk and open it. “Okay, good. The weapons aren’t damaged.”

“Fake badges? Weapons? I take it you’re not some average Joe. Would you like to tell me what’s going on?”

He smiles a little as he takes all the weapons out of the secret compartment. “My brother and I hunt supernatural beings that are causing trouble and endangering lives.”

“Don’t expect us to be surprised. We’re rogue crime fighters from Nova. Come on back to the Milano.”

“Hold on.” He grabs his tapes, badges, and the weapons and follows us back.

I lead Dean inside the Milano and hand him a flask. “Here. It’s Peter’s, but I’m sure he won’t mind.”

“I sure as hell mind!”

“Shut up. He needs it.” I put the flask down anyway and pull my own bottle from my belt. “It’s urerre. Novanian liquor. Try it.”

Dean looks at it and shrugs. “Cheers,” he says and take a deep drink. “Oh man, that stuff is good.”

“I know. I buy it in bulk. There are about 20 cases of it in the back. So, do you want to tell me about yourself? I’m not exactly the therapy group type, but I’m curious…”

“Weeeellll… I hunt monsters, I like to drink, my little brother is with our angel friend right now, I literally have been to Hell and back, what else do you want to know?”

“Met any aliens?” I snap back, not making any other reaction to Dean’s adventures except for a smirk.

“I have now.”

I take the bottle from him. “Do you want to bunk with us tonight? We do have a spare room, and your car's—Baby is sort of wrecked…”

He nods. “Yeah, and do you have a phone or something? I should call Sam.”

“Um, try this.” I take an all-glass tablet out of my pocket and give it to Dean.

He stares at it in confusion. “Uh, where are the numbers? Sorry, I can’t read this.”

“Oh, right. English.” I pull the tablet out of his hands and twiddle with it a bit. “Here.” A ten digit keypad glows in the screen.

Dean’s POV

I dial Sam and wait. Dammit, voicemail. “Hey, Sam this is Dean. So I’m, uh, going to be out for a while. I’m fine, but it might take longer to get to you.”

When I’m done, Gamora stands up and starts walking through the Milano. “Come on, I’ll show you to your room.” There’s a bed, a tablet displaying the time, and an assortment of clothes and shoes scattered across the floor.

“Sorry about this,” she tells me. “This is my overflow closet.”

I laugh. “I’ve slept in a lot worse, so don’t mind me. Do you guys have a shower on board? I feel gross.”

“Yeah. Straight down the hallway on your left. Door locks automatically.”

“Thanks.” I walk down and step in. The controls are a bit weird, but they’re easy to figure out.

“Almost done?” She knocks on the bathroom door. “Peter’s outside trying to fix the transmission, so take all the time you need.”

“Okay!” Since it’s been awhile since I’ve had a decent shower, I spend a few more minutes under the running water.

Gamora’s POV

I set towels outside the door and go into the extra room—where Dean’s staying—to get changed. My outfit is all ripped, so I pick out a leather mini dress and matching boots.

Dean’s POV

I get out and see the towels. They’re really fluffy, which is my favorite kind of towel, surprisingly. Once I’m dry, I go to the extra room (towel around waist) and walk in on Gamora changing. “Oh sorry!” I close the door and facepalm.

Gamora’s POV

I shriek as Dean opens the door. “What the hell?!” He slams it shut. “Sorry, I should’ve told you I was in here. This has happened a few times with some of Peter’s friends.” I speak to him through the door.

“Well, it’s still really awkward. You can take your time. I have a fluffy towel.”

I laugh. When I’m done changing, I cautiously open the door. “Can I look? Have you changed yet?”

He turns around and blushes awkwardly.“Uh, no. I was going to see if the room has any clean clothes…”

“Oh. Right. I’ll just…” We awkwardly shuffle through the doorway. “So, I’ll…go. Yeah. Bye.” I clear my throat and step away.

Dean’s POV

I nod and walk in the room and close the door. I let the towel fall as I slide down onto the floor, blushing furiously. This is just great. Well, better find some clothes.

Gamora’s POV

I put up my hair and walk outside the Milano, cooling off literally and emotionally. Peter is nowhere in sight, so I go back to the scene of the crime and take a peek at the car.

Dean’s POV

I find clothes that fit and walk out back to the Impala. Gamora’s there. “Anything else damaged?”

“No, I was just looking… '67 Impala, eh? Nice.”

I nod. “Yeah. Man, I love this car. Good engine, good milage, good storage space in the trunk…”

“She’s nice. Really. For an Earth vehicle. I spend a lot of time around Peter. I’ve picked it up. He still has his 80s childhood posters of Lamborghinis in the Milano.”

I nod in approval. “Not bad. I prefer Chevy, but each to their own.”

“Yeah. How do you feel? I don’t suppose you know where the nearest town is.”

“No. I don’t.”

“Do you have a map, then?”

I nod and point to the charred pieces of paper in the front seat.

Gamora’s POV

“That’ll be no use.” I calibrate my tablet. “This way. There’s a small town ahead about 10 kilometres.”

Dean nods. “Yeah, I know, but what about my weapons?”

“I don’t know. Everyone’s immobilized right now. Do you want just take a couple and get going?”

“Yeah. Hold on.” He runs to the trunk of the Impala and gets as many as he can conceal, then grabs a small but powerful handgun.

“North. Let’s go.” I secure two daggers under my leather jacket. “If we keep going without stops, we should be there in an hour.”

Dean nods. “Alright. I’m supposed to meet my brother and friend there. Want to come see them?”

“Sure. So, you said 'Angel’. How long have you been in this relationship?”

He makes a strangled cat noise. Blushing furiously, he stares at me. “I’m-we’re not- look, he is an actual angel.”

“Riiiiiight. I definitely believe you. If he’s an actual angel, why didn’t he stop you from getting into the crash?”

“Because I told him to not worry about me I told him that he needed to protect my brother at all costs, even if that meant my life on the line.”

“What’s with your brother, then?” The Milano’s just out of sight.

“Like I said, we hunt monsters. It’s not exactly a safe business.”

“Well, it’ll be nice to meet another utopian nuclear Brady bunch.”

He laughs. “Dude, that show was awesome.”

“When I was about 10, just a baby assassin, I used to wander around the streets waiting for my target. But then I’d see the Brady Bunch playing in this bar and I’d watch the entire episode and get side tracked. The nice lady who ran it knew I came every week and she gave me juice and we’d watch it together. She just liked old Terran television.

"I watched reruns when I turned 18. It was—wait, you were an assassin at ten?”

“I was an assassin at 10 months.”

“Wha—why?”

“I was born with it. In my veins. My dad did it, my sister did it. it was the family…business, I guess you’d say. I was raised in a childhood that revolved around my job. Sometimes I wish I was normal.”

“Tell me about it. You know why I hunt monsters?”

“Enlighten me.”

“When I was five, a demon killed my mother. So my dad decided to get revenge. And here I am, following in his footsteps.”

“Born into a life of loss, raised with the muddy dangerous job in the world,” I mumble.

* the following contains mentions of parental abuse *

“At least your father wasn’t emotionally and physically abusive.”

This seems me into a fit of laughter. I laugh until I cry. “My God. You can’t be serious? Your dad is the Dad of the Year compared to my dad.”

“Really? Really? My dad would leave unexpectedly for weeks, giving us a bit of food and money. But there would always be a lot more days without anything. I took most of the beatings from him being drunk because I couldn’t bear the thought of my little brother getting hurt. I became a soldier when I was five. I never had a childhood. I had to keep switching schools. You want to see the products of his parenting?” He rolls up a sleeve and shows me a scar that runs up to his shoulder.

I cry a single tear and wordlessly unzip my jacket to reveal scars, bruises, cuts, burns and abrasions covering my back. “Kill the next name on the list. Never let them see the flaws. I have always buried then deep underneath the ground.”

Dean’s POV

I nod in understanding and show you my back. “Don’t mess up. Never waste a bullet. If you do, you’ll get the business end of discipline.”

“Many of my targets were children. There was one girl, eleven, same as me. I can hear her saying, to this day: 'Please, no. I know you. We’ll be friends. You won’t have to be alone. Just give me one day to show you what’s it’s like to have a friend.’ I was famous by that point, on everyone’s tablets and the news. It struck me as odd, that after all the bad I did, she didn’t want to turn me in. The reward was high and she was poor. She wanted to change me for the better, not chain me for the worse. And I just thrust the knife in her head like another piece of flesh with no meaning, gone forever.”

“I’ve had to make the decision to watch my brother fight during the literal apocalypse against our other brother while possessed by Satan. And I couldn’t do anything. It’s really horrible, watching someone you love and care about being controlled by the Devil while not being able to do anything. It reminded me of how it all started, why this was even happening to us. And I remember feeling the exact same way as I did when my mom died: angry, scared, helpless. I never saw her die, but my dad did. It must have been horrible for him to watch.”

Gamora’s POV

“I set fire to a house once,” I sob, waves of emotion washing over me. “I could’ve killed your mother! I was to kill you and you were told to kill me…” I collapse and smell the cool country air, the smell of ash and blood lingering on my clothes from so long ago. A thousand years later, and it never really seems to go away.

Dean kneels next to me and lifts my face to look at him. “No, you didn’t. My mom was killed , and the house was burned, by a demon.”

“It could’ve been me. Me, me, me! Get out, the flames are here now, flames lit by a match of mine, get out!”

He grabs your shoulders. “Gamora, listen to me. It wasn’t you. You’re already out. Breathe, okay? Just breathe.”

I take a deep breath of fresh, clean air. “I’m sorry. I should be heading back to Peter, I don’t know why I’m chaperoning you to a town that’s practically in sight.”

“Neither do I. You’re good company, though.”

I pick myself up and orient myself. “There. Just near the water reservoir.” I see something in the distance.

“Hey, it’s Sam and Cas.”

'Sam’ and 'Cas’ are moving towards us, waving. One of them is very, very tall and has long hair and a plaid shirt. The other is significantly shorter, wearing a suit and trenchcoat. “Where’s the angel?”

“Trench coat.” He runs to Sam and Cas to give them hugs. Then, he drags them over to you. “Guys, I have a lot to tell you.” “So do we. You know that haunting in Iowa?” “Why is that woman green?” “Cas!”

“Uh, hello? I’m still here. I’m Gamora, by the way. And yes, I was born green.”

Dean’s POV

“I’m Sam,” my brother says and shakes your hand. “Dean’s brother. This is our friend, Castiel. He’s an angel, so he’s not very used to human stuff.”

“Hi Cas. Can I call you that?”

“Yes. Do you have another name you prefer to be called by?” “He means nicknames,” I explain.

“No. Just Gamora.” She points to the Milano out in the distance. “Peter’s there. You can call him Peter or Star Lord.”

“Star Lord?” Sam scoffs. “I do not understand.”

“Both of you, leave it.” Dean snaps.

“I’m not explaining.” Gamora throws her hands up defensively.

Sam laughs. “Well, can we meet this Star Lord?”

“Yeah, but I don’t think he’s done yet. Do you want to head to the next town? Back to the Milano?”

“Dean, where’s the Impala?” Cas asks. I make a face. “At the Milano.” “Why?” “I think you should come see.”

We slowly make our way back to the Milano. Peter’s nowhere to be seen.

I look around. “Where is he?”

[itsiotrecords-blog]

http://ift.tt/2rZkoXQ

Breaking up is a hard thing to do. You have to deal with emotions, finances, friends, the world, etc. However, there are things that can make the act of “breaking up” easier for all involved. Fortunately for us, this list is not about that (how entertaining would 25 best ways to break up with someone be?). If you have ever done any of these 25 worst ways to break up with someone …you are officially a bad, bad, person (and we laugh at you).

#1 On the phone With the exception of a long distance relationship (which never work), breaking up with someone over the phone is one of the clearest signs you don’t want to interact with that person… ever. No talking, no eye contact, no weird emotionally contorted faces about to cry; nope, just a callous, hollow phone call.

#2 Through Twitter We get a lot of information from twitter. Some of it is good like trivia info or a Lists25 post. Others are not so good like your significant other breaking up with you. This is probably the epitome of cowardice.

#3 Through Facebook There are a lot of ways to break up with someone on Facebook. You can be blunt by posting and tagging the new ex on a post that says you quit, you can simply change your status to “single” from “in a relationship”, or you can even unfriend and block the poor heartbroken unfortunate soul. But if you really want to be evil, just flaunt your life on the newsfeed and let the whole wide world (including the ex), know you’re better off single or with someone way better.

#4 Through a text message It boils down to two unfortunate words: “It’s over”. No exclamation needed, no long explanation; just two words. However, if you want to be particularly mean, go ahead and add an exclamation or two.

#5 By leaving a voicemail You want to break up but you don’t want to deal with that long conversation or that pathetic sight afterwards. What do you do? Why leave a voicemail of course. Your lack of sensitivity will save you from hours and hours of crying and whining.

#6 By being extra mean “Sticks and stones may break my bones” but your words will always hurt someone; especially if you are being maliciously cruel only to get out of a relationship. It’s a low blow to anyone who has to endure such treatment.

#7 On a vacation Anything can happen when you’re out of your comfort zone. Feelings could turn from fiery hot to ice cold and before you know it, your spouse (soon to be ex) is dropping you like a hot potato or worse; a soggy stale piece of French fry. If the now ex wants to leave you and jump on another adventure, let him or her go. You’re on vacation anyway so might as well clear your head and chill, right? Just be sure to charge everything to his/her account.

#8 In bed This is probably the nastiest clincher after a steamy romp. The one question you probably see flashing in your mind is “What did I do wrong?” as you bravely stare at your ex’s naked back unceremoniously heading to the door and out of your life. Just know that it takes a special kind of person to do something like that…the kind of special you are better off without.

#9 By ignoring relationship issues Ignoring relationship issues can be a sign that the relationship is heading towards a dead end. But its a heck of a lot worse when the childish act of avoiding confrontation is celebrated in the terminal even more childish outcome of a broken relationship. Just remember, diamonds are diamonds because they are rare and it takes a heck of a lot of effort to get them.

#10 While with friends One thing is to break up in a public space, where people who don’t know you, won’t probably know you and just don’t care inhabit. However, when you break up in front of people who are mutual friends of you and your ex, you are adding a whole mess of drama that is just not wise.

#11 In front of your family Similar to number 16 but multiplied times ten, breaking up in front of family is like detonating a shrapnel bomb in the middle of all of you family members. No one is walking out of that situation without getting hurt.

#12 In Public If your brain is raging like wildfire and you’re just despicably mad at your future ex-lover try the classic “humiliate them while in public” way of breaking up. In order to solidify the resolve you can a) throw a glass of wine on his/her surprised face, b) slap him square on his jaw (notice she’s doing the slapping. Guys, this is not an option for you) c) kick him somewhere extremely painful (Again guys, not an option for you) d) throw a chair over his head (… it looks like the ladies have the upper hand here).

#13 Leaving a post it Those colorful cute little squares can spell utter sweetness as well as an insufferable tragedy. There’s not too much space to write on but somehow, bitter and cold feelings can fit in quite perfectly. To make matters worse, these bad boys can be stuck anywhere.

#14 By lying Lying is bad, but when you lie about your relationship status that’s a whole different level of bad. If you are going to break up with someone do it already and don’t lie about it! It’s like removing wax strips, the slower you do it, the more painful it is…(but then again, maybe that’s what you were going for).

#15 By dragging it out for so long until you end up initiating it If you are completely unable to utter the words “It’s over” this is the break up for you. The way it works is you just stick around as an emotionless zombie. Eventually your future ex will get so tired and annoyed by your lack of backbone that he/she will have no option but to dump you. It’s a win-win situation.

#16 At your “Special Place” It can be where you first met, where you went to on your first date, where a proposal was made or where you took your first vacation alone together. Any of those places can be counted as special place and are ideal to turn your future ex’s day into a living nightmare.

#17 On Valentine’s Day Cupid probably never had a clue that your soon-to-be ex decided to turn the day of hearts into a day of doom. But you can’t blame the winged cutie about it, blame your indecent, heartless, hell spawned ex. Forget a cupid’s arrow, this person deserves a poisoned spear.

#18 On your birthday It’s your party and you’ll cry if you want to, right? Not, if your future ex has anything to say about it. With gallant strides, he/she walks through a room full of friends all wishing you happy birthday, only to pull you aside and give you the worst present of your life. And the worst part of it is, it doesn’t even have a receipt so you can’t return it.

#19 On your anniversary If you want to add insult to injury, go ahead and break up on your anniversary. It’s like saying “the worst day of my life was when you and I got together”.

#20 Through a friend This has “sleaze” written all over it. If you lack the internal fortitude to break up face to face, you can opt for someone else to do it for you. It’s like the relationship Mafia; get someone else to do your dirty job.

#21 At someone’s funeral This has to be one of the most heartless forms of breaking up. It’s almost like rubbing salt in an open wound with an additional squeeze of lime and arsenic.

#22 While pregnant It’s harder to get any lower than breaking up with a woman who is pregnant with your child. The implication of course is that you don’t want to take responsibility for the child, which of course makes you a sleaze ball.

#23 Through a billboard Calling it quits through a billboard for the entire world to talk about is a totally epic (and quite painful) way to break up. Your dirty laundry isn’t everybody’s business but who cares? If you think your ex deserves the cruelest bashing and you have his/her money to pay for your marvelous idea, then go ahead, make him/her want to hide from civilization.

#24 By cheating Getting caught in bed with someone else is probably the most horrifying scene in the history of relationships. There is only one thing that is arguably worse than this, and that is…

#25 By being literally left at the altar. For years, some dream of that magical day called marriage. Ridiculous amounts of money is spent on things like wedding dresses, cakes, musicians, food, etc. all to celebrate that holy union and that wonderful promise of everlasting love…that is until one of the promised ones decides he/she rather not get married. This is probably the absolute ultimate way to devastate, humiliate, destroy, someone.