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lilmisshellfireswritingblog · 4 months ago

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Lavender Haze: The Prologue (I)

Authors Note: Hi! Welcome to the beginnings of my reader insert fan fiction that I have been debating on writing for about a month now. This is truly self indulgent after watching Anyone But You and seeing Much Ado About Nothing at the Globe Theatre when I was last in London. So, I finally broke down and wrote it after needing a break from my Master's program for you know, mental health. This is not beta read or edited as this is for fun and only for fun. I split the prologue into three parts, as they read as three different scenes to set up the rest of the fan fiction. Word Count: 7000+ (The Prologue) Pairings: Eddie Munson/Reader Tags: None yet, just angst and fluff.

“Excuse me!”

You step off the bus and onto the crowded sidewalk, immediately swept into a tide of people all moving in different directions. Quickly, you dodge a man hurrying with a briefcase, sidestepping a group of teenagers laughing loudly, their voices rising above the constant hum of Los Angeles. Your boots click against the pavement as you tighten her grip on your worn leather bag, weaving through the maze of shoulders and elbows, trying to maintain your focus. The air is thick with the scent of hot dog vendors and street food, mingling with the more pungent fumes of car exhaust. As you near the crosswalk, a cyclist zooms past, the sharp sound of his bell barely cutting through the noise. The crowd parts momentarily as you slip between two strangers—an older woman in a trench coat and a young man absorbed in his newspaper. Ahead, the glowing neon sign of the coffee shop comes into view, the warm yellow light inviting you forward. You quicken your pace, determined to make it through the final stretch (and not pee your pants), a slight smile tugging at your lips as the door to the coffee shop finally swings open in front of you, offering a brief respite from the chaos of the outside world and hopefully a bathroom.

The coffee shop hums with the energy of the late '80s, a cozy yet bustling haven tucked on a corner of the Sunset and Gower, just around the corner from your internship’s office. The air is thick with the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee and other pastries, mingling with the faint scent of cigarettes from the regulars gathered outside. Inside, the low murmur of conversations fills the space, punctuated by the clink of ceramic mugs and the hiss of the espresso machine. Neon lights flicker above, casting a soft glow on the mismatched wooden tables and worn leather chairs. Vinyl records spin softly on a turntable in the corner, playing a mix of jazz and soft rock, while the crackle of a local radio station sneaks through the speakers. The counter is a flurry of activity, with baristas in neon-colored aprons pulling shots and steaming milk, their hands swift and practiced. Customers—some in denim jackets, others in oversized sweaters—huddle over newspapers, sketchbooks, or the occasional laptop, while a few lean casually against the counter, exchanging anecdotes with the regulars. The walls, covered in faded posters and Polaroid photos, reflect a time on the cusp of change, a moment when the coffee shop was more than just a place to get caffeine—it was a cultural touchstone, a gathering place for conversation, contemplation, and connection.

“Hi, excuse me. Where is your bathroom?” You ask, adjusting your bag on your shoulder anxiously.

“It’s for customers only,” the barista deadpanned, not looking up from the coffee she was currently working on.

“Uh, yeah…Okay sure…” You look around the shop, quickly picking up a loaf of bread, holding it up proudly. “I’ll buy this then!”

“You have to check out over there,” the barista finally looked up from her work, nudging her head toward the line extending from the cashier to the entryway.

“Can I just…go now? I really have to pee,” you whisper, bouncing up and down while looking at your watch. “Please?”

“Double espresso for Robert,” the barista held up a cup of coffee, handing it off once the man came to collect it.

“I also kind of, well, no… I know that establishments that serve food or drink must be open to the public regardless of their purchasing class.”

“It’s a store policy. I don’t make the rules. I just serve coffee,” the barista went back to work, holding out another cup of coffee. “Chai tea for Beatrice!”

“Honey, I’m about to order. Do you want your usual?” A man’s voice asked from the cashier, causing you to turn your head toward where the voice was coming from. “...Large coffee with just cream, isn’t it?”

“Uh…” You slowly start to walk forward, bread in hand, keeping your distance slightly while examining the man in front of you.

When you first lay eyes on the man, the first thing you notice is his wild, untamed hair—a mass of curly brown locks that tumble down around his face, almost like he’s just rolled out of bed and went straight into a rock concert. He’s tall, with a lean, wiry frame, and his posture radiates a kind of careless confidence. His eyes, dark and sharp, carry a mischievous gleam that’s equal parts challenge and curiosity. He flashes a grin that’s crooked but genuine, as if he’s just waiting for you to catch up with his scheme, even if you don’t know it yet. His clothes are an instant giveaway to his identity—faded Metallica shirt, a worn leather jacket that’s probably seen better days, and a pair of ripped jeans that might as well have been painted on. His boots are scuffed from constant wear, and there’s something about the way he carries himself—like he’s always a step ahead of everyone else, or maybe just completely indifferent to fitting in at all.

And not too entirely terrible to look at at all.

“No, actually my wife would like a triple espresso although you’ve had trouble sleeping lately, right babe? Maybe we should back it off to a single. You kept the light on until like midnight last night reading that Stephen King book.”

You smile, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, laughing, finally catching onto what the stranger was doing for you.

“I did, didn’t I? Yeah, so maybe I’ll just have a spearmint tea, no sugar today. Thanks, husband.”

“Oh, and the bread. It’s grilled cheese night. And she is part of the purchasing class, so can we get the bathroom key? Thanks.” The cashier reluctantly handed the stranger the bathroom key after they returned the stranger’s change. You soon then caught up, taking the key from him, looking up at him with a small smile as you both walked away from the counter. “Thank you. That was really nice. You did not have to do that.” “Happy to. You knew a lot about bathroom law.” He quipped, shifting his weight to his other leg. “It was a short chapter back in like my first year of law school…No big, really,” You mention sadly, blowing a sigh past your lips. “After I’m done in the bathroom, I’ll give you some cash for the…uh bread and the tea.” “Oh. Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. I’ll have your tea waiting for you. My treat. Can’t I treat my wife?” The man jokes, giving you a lopsided grin. “Oh. Well… Okay. That’s great. I will see you on the other side.” You give him a quick salute, turning on your heel to find the bathroom. The moment you stepped into the coffee shop's cramped bathroom, the door clicking shut behind you felt like a barrier between you and the world outside. You rested your head against the door, sighing as if to calm yourself down from whatever just happened out there. Your heart was pounding, loud in your ears as you leaned against the cold ceramic sink, hands trembling slightly as you gripped the edge. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting a harsh, unforgiving glow that only made you more aware of the flush creeping up your neck. What just happened? The scene replayed over and over in your head: his smile, the way he had looked at you like you were the only person in the room. Had you said something weird? You pressed your palms to your cheeks, feeling the heat still radiating there, as if the whole encounter had left a visible mark. He was gorgeous—too gorgeous—and now you were stuck in this tiny bathroom, battling the sudden wave of panic flooding your chest. You could still hear his voice in your mind, smooth and confident, but there was something off about it too—like he was playing a part, a part you didn't quite understand. The way he’d bought your tea, told you he was your husband—what did that even mean? A joke? A pick-up line? You leaned closer to the mirror, breathing in deeply to steady yourself, but your reflection seemed to mock you, wide-eyed and flushed with disbelief. Get it together. But no matter how hard you tried to calm your racing thoughts, the excitement—and the anxiety—just wouldn’t settle. It’s been too long since you’d been the object of attraction. You couldn’t grasp the idea of it all. Was he flirting? Was he just trying to help? You couldn’t decide if it was one or the other…or perhaps both. After doing your business, you step out of the bathroom and give the bathroom key back to the barista at the cashier station, waving your hand at the stranger who was now holding two cups and a loaf of bread in his hands.

“You okay?” He asked, handing you your cup of tea. “You took a while in there.”

Of course he noticed that.

“Big time. I am big time okay. I just had to pee for like the last six hours and I just started this new internship with Slash Records and I didn’t want to ask anyone where the bathroom was because I didn’t want them to think I was weak and not a problem solver,” you explain, taking a sip of your tea.

The stranger laughs a little, shifting again on his feet, only saying one word: “Okay.”

“And by the way, it is not me to ask where the bathroom is. Every human does it. It’s very, very normal.”

“Yeah…Maybe asking is the best route next time,” he suggested, looking over your shoulder before turning back his gaze toward you.

You cleared your throat, raising your cup to him before taking another sip. “Thank you again… Uh, bye.”

You gave him a little wave with your free hand, walking past him toward the door. You wished you could go back and ask him out, if not only to thank him for saving you in your emergency.

But then you heard the clunking of boots behind you and the now familiar voice of the long haired stranger that bought you a cup of tea so you could use the coffee shop’s bathroom.

“Oh. Hey! Wait!” He shouts, startling a small crowd within the shop. “Just wait a second!”

“Hey.” You turn around, smirking behind the lid of your tea. “So are you going to ask me out now?”

The sudden boldness that possessed you surprised even yourself and it seemed to surprise the man now standing in front of you. You truly didn’t know how the confidence even washed over you but, you weren’t going to complain about it.

The man paused, smirking while he turned his gaze back to you. You studied him for a brief moment, glancing him up and down, hopeful that you just didn’t make a fool out of yourself.

“Yeah. Yeah, I am. I’m Eddie. Eddie Munson.”

“I’m Y/N.” You quickly grabbed a napkin from the counter, reaching for a pen in your bag before writing your phone number down on it, handing it to Eddie with a smile.

“Y/N.” Eddie repeated, nodding his head while laughing - nervously, you noted. “I’ll give you a call, Y/N.”

“I look forward to it.” You say, waving your hand once more as a goodbye, walking toward the door with a slight skip in your step. “I’ll see you around, Eddie.”

#lavender haze #reader x Eddie Munson #Eddie munson #joseph quinn #stranger things fan fiction #Eddie munson x reader #reader insert #x reader #Eddie x reader #reader/eddiemunson #reader/Eddie munson #Joseph Quinn x reader #Joseph Quinn/Reader #fanfiction

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balkanradfem · 7 months ago

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I had a fun experience at the second-hand market last week!

Our second hand market is a congregation of vendors on an empty parking lot, it happens on a specific day of the week. About 40-60 vendors put all of their goods on big pieces of tarp, and then customers can walk around, pick what they like and ask for prices. There's old tools, cutlery, tons of clothing, baskets, pottery, books, electronics, shoes, instruments, anything you could imagine. Haggling is expected and encouraged.

I will sometimes seek a specific object on this market for weeks or even months, until someone has it in their inventory, and is willing to sell it for a normal price. For example, it took me about 5 months to find a good walnut opener, but in the end I got one for a single euro, and it's perfect. This time, I was looking for an awl, and a computer mouse.

Awl is a shoe-making tool, and I've been looking for one for months. I've seen several instructive videos on shoe making, specifically shoe making in the old days without modern technology, and I've wanted to make my own shoes so badly, and also mend the shoes that have fallen apart. I've managed to fix one pair of summer shoes after watching just two videos; it made me dream about how far I could go if I had an awl. Awl is a sharp needle, thicker than regular sewing needles, with a holder; it's used to punch trough leather so you could sew it. This tool is very old, and I've been hoping that someone on the second-hand market might still have one. But week after week, no luck. I've been asking people who had lots of tools on display, if they had an awl, or even knew what it was, and they all knew of it, but didn't have one.

This time, I was more focused on getting a computer mouse; my wrists and the back of my palms have started hurting very badly from overuse of a laptop touchpad, and it felt very much like the beginning of a carpal tunnel syndrome. I figured this pain might get better if I tried using a mouse instead! But mouses felt expensive to me (person who doesn't buy anything), so I wanted one that was cheap and used. But how would I know if it actually worked, if I got it on the second-hand market? I could potentially buy something worthless and only know it once I get home. So I hatched up a plan.

I would bring my laptop, in a bag, on sleep mode so I could have it running in a second. When I find a mouse, I'd ask the vendor the price first (if I chat about it for a while, they might increase the price), and after knowing the price, whether it works. At this point, if the price is 2 euros or less, I would ask if I could 'try it out', and if they said yes, I'd open up my laptop and plug the mouse in. If it works, I have a functional mouse to bring home, for an acceptable price. With this plan, and my laptop in a bag, I approached the market.

I was going around looking for a mouse, but still eyed the displays of old tools. I located 2 vendors selling mice, no awl anywhere. Still as I was passing one vendor, who was selling tools like pliers, screwdrivers, hammers, and so on, he greeted and asked if I needed help. So I looked at him and asked 'Do you have an awl?'. He said no. I thanked him and turned away. 'Wait', he said. 'I actually might have one.' His display did not have one, so I looked at him with confusion.

The guy walked over to his car, from which he procured a bucket filled with tools. He started pulling stuff out of the bucket, throwing it on the parking lot, and this lasted for a hot minute, until finally, from the bottom of the bucket, he procured ... I think the worst awl that ever lived in the world. He handed it to me, and I was mesmerized, that was the first awl I've seen in real life! But it was covered in gross-looking layered dried paint, dull, not correctly centered in the holder, and a bit ajar. I frowned and mentioned how it needs to be cleaned, and sharpened, to which he explained that he used it for opening buckets of paint. I was horrified. Crime in my eyes. But still, a real life awl! He said I could sharpen it with some sandpaper. I asked how much he was asking for it. 3 euro, he said. I offered him one. He accepted.

Then, to my biggest shock, he pulled out a crochet needle from the bucket! I am not joking, I was tempted to hell and back to buy that needle, I don't have one, and it was beautiful and perfect, but it was also, the tiniest crochet needle existing. Imagine a normal sewing needle, with a hooked ending, it was that small! It was size zero. I knew I wouldn't try to crochet with yarn that tiny, so I restrained myself, explained that even though I need one, this one is far too tiny for me. I'm still thinking about that crochet needle though.

Extremely happy to finally get my hands on an awl, no matter in what kind of shape it was, I went on to try my luck with the mouse vendors. I first went to one I knew was extremely cheap, and his pile of electronics was horrifying, just 30 different cables all tangled together, but I spotted a few mouse-shaped objects underneath. I crouched and untangled a mouse that was dusty, but had a nice cable, and maybe worked. I asked the price; it was 1 euro. Then I asked if it works, the answer was 'I don't know'. I asked if I could try it, and he was happy to let me try. I opened up my laptop, and the mouse moved, but in a weird, distorted way. It was throwing a tantrum on my desktop. The guy still wanted to sell it to me and attempted to convince me that there's a setting in windows that corrects this behaviour, but I thanked him and moved on. He kept talking at me as I was leaving, saying 'I have 20 mice at home!'. I didn't reply.

I crouched at the next cable infested pile, and pulled out a mouse that looked way better. I asked the vendor for a price – it was 1 euro for this one too. I asked whether it worked, and the vendor promised it did. When I asked if I could test it, he was confused, told me to just return it if it didn't work. I explained I could test it in a second, and it would be a big hassle to come back just because of this. Then he realized I had a laptop with me, and watched me plug it in. This one was perfect. Smooth and responsive. I had my mouse.

I paid 1 euro for it, and went on my merry way! It felt incredible to get both of my desired items on one visit, that kind of thing never happened before, and the mouse was even cheaper than expected. My hand does hurt less with the use of a mouse, and I haven't tried my hand at restoring the awl yet, but it's on my mind all the time, I'm going to make my own shoes and I have the means to do it.

Here are my two objects, isn't it funny that I had to haggle to get the awl at a low price, but the mouse was just immediately that cheap? I'm trying to figure out if it's just the market's economics at play, or maybe the awl just is more valuable. If it works well, it will last me for a lifetime, while the mouse is likely to work for a few years and then call it a day.

#second hand market #opened market #computer mouse #shoe making #buying tools #haggling #second hand goods #awl

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meetmyothersouls · 2 years ago

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Darling Death

“You can be a king or a street sweeper, but everyone dances with the

Grim Reaper.”

- Robert Alton Harris

Chapter 1 - Day 1

I ran late for work that morning, but made sure to grab coffee on the way in. We normally didn't expect customers for another hour. 7 am was pretty early, even for book worms. I grabbed my mobile order from the coffee shop three doors down from my bookshop, Chapters that Change, and cursed under my breath as I saw someone already waiting outside.

"Sorry, I'm sorry!" I said sympathetically as, I fished my keys out of my fringy cross body bag. I sloshed coffee on my t-shirt in the process. "Shit."

It was a man who was waiting. He looked familiar, like someone I knew or saw somewhere recently. He looked mysterious and maybe a little bit lethal in all black and mostly leather. Black leather pants, a black t-shirt topped with a light black leather overcoat that stretched down to his knees, and black boots, combat style. He didn't say anything as I profusely apologized and dropped my keys three times in the process of trying to unlock the front door. He just stared, an eyebrow arched--in amusement or confusion, I wasn't sure. When I finally opened the door, he slid in behind me, so close I should have been able to feel the warmth of his body.

"Do you need-" I started, turning around to talk to my mysterious customer. "help...with anything...?" He was gone.

I dove into my work, wondering where he may have gone, but quickly forgot about him as I processed new releases and donations. Chapter that Change was a bookstore that sold both second handbooks, and a select few new books, mostly from local and indie authors. I was able to spend most of the first hour in the backroom, scanning inventory and checking conditions of books, anything with ripped pages had to go went into a bargain bin, while anything with mold or water damage went into the garbage. Mold is like a disease to books once one has it, they all will.

Then, I felt it. He was behind me. I turned, my voice catching in my throat even though I knew He was there.

"I-you-what-"

He stopped there again. His arched eyebrow as menacing as it was attractive. He turned, looking behind him as if there was a possibility I was talking to someone else rather than the ominous stranger in my backroom.

"You can't be in here," I finally choked out.

He nodded once, turned again and walked out. I watched him through the slim glass window on the door, hoping he'd walk out of my store all together. Instead, he turned left, traveling deeper into the bookstore.

"Who are you talking to?"

I jumped, yelping as I turned around. Josie arrived through the back entrance, holding her coffee and a laptop, looking as confused as I felt.

"You didn't see that guy?" I asked looking over my shoulder. "He's..."

"Is he hot?" Josie asked.

"I mean, yeah he's hot but he's kinda creepy, like...in an ominous Joe Goldburg way, you know?"

"Oh, fuck. Where is he? Is he still here?" Josie sat down her coffee on top of her laptop, already making her way into the store. She was always looking for a causal fuck.

"He's out there somewhere," I said, waving her off. "Ask him to leave? He's creeping me out."

Josie was already gone, scoping the place out for the mystery man. I finished scanning in my stack of books and loaded my cart up, then dragged it out to the floor to stock. Most of the books on my cart were heavy, in both weight and content: Edgar Allen Poe, Stephen King, Bram Stoker. I walked over to the second-hand horror section, stopping at 'K' for King. I got about four books on the shelf until I noticed a pair of eyes staring at me from the other side. I screamed, sending my cart flying down the aisle as I took quick steps away from Him. My back slammed against the spines of books behind me. Half of the books on my cart now strewn across the floor. He stood up straight, towering over the cases of books and made his way around until he was standing over me. He offered his hand in what I thought was to help me off the floor, but when I grabbed it my vision went black. Everything sounded like it was underwater and far away. I felt myself jerking on the floor, but I couldn't do anything about it. Then He appeared in the vision and behind him stood something taller, darker and evil. A cloaked figure, with seemingly no face. Boney hands appeared from baggy sleeves and held a 7-foot-tall scythe. The man from the bookstore knelt down and cupped my face gently and my convulsions stopped.

"My dear, y/n," He said, his voice backed by the dark, evil thing behind, speaking the same words he spoke, only several octaves lower. "You have thirteen days."

Then, the world came back into view, almost overwhelmingly so. The air around me was loud. The ground under me was cold and hard. My breathing was rapid and my heart was beating so hard I could feel it in my stomach and ears. Josie stood over me, her eyes wide with fear.

"What the fuck is going on?" I shifted on the ground, backing myself into the bookcase again. "Oh my god, y/n, are you high?"

"What?! No! I don't..." I stood up, using the bookshelves behind me as leverage. I still felt weak, and I didn't trust my legs to support me. As the front door came into view, I heard the bell ding and the door swing shut as He left the bookstore.

"Hello?! Earth to y/n!?" Josie snapped in front of my face.

"No, no. I don't know what's happening." There was a sudden overwhelming need to follow Him. Like a gravitational pull that was dragging me toward the door. "Can you hang on a minute? I gotta check on something."

I left Josie, dumbfounded in the horror section as I ran after Him. He was easy to spot, but hard to catch up to. His strides were long, compared to my short ones. I had to run and push through the morning crowd on their way to work before I grabbed his coat and spun him around. Shockingly, he spun around, that same look of half confusion half amusement on his face.

"What the fuck was that!?" I yelled.

Passersby looked at me like I was crazy, giving me incredulous looks and side eyes.

"Whose she talking to, mama?" I heard a little boy ask, but that didn't register until much later.

"What was what?" He finally spoke, his voice the same was the one in the vision I had in the bookstore.

"Oh, for fucks sake," I said, already tired of His games and people looking at me like I was psychotic. I grabbed His arm and pulled him into the ally next to us. "You following me into the bookstore, barging into my backroom, and then grabbing my hand and giving me some fucked up vision or some shit! Who are you!?"

The man laughed, "You're asking the wrong questions, y/n."

"What the fuck does that mean?"

He shrugged.

"What was that?" I tried the question again.

"That was your fate."

"My fate? What the fuck does that even mean?"

"I wasn't expecting you to be able to see me," he said, annoyed.

"What? Can you please just try to make sense for five fucking seconds?"

The man took steps toward me, the heels of his boots heavy against the old brick of the alley. He stopped once he was close enough for me to feel the cold radiate off of his body.

"What does that even mean?"

"It means," his breath was so cold, "most people can't see Death coming."

This has been a SufferingSouls production

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octuscle · 2 years ago

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Max

If only he'd bothered sooner, Maximilian thought as he stood in front of the graffiti-covered, slightly run-down apartment building facade in Leipzig's student district. It was bad enough that he had to go to this stupid fair. But a hotel would have been better than this shared room rented through airbnb. It had taken him a while to finally come around to the idea that it would make sense for his career not to always sit in the lab or at the computer. Getting in touch with clients occasionally was certainly supportive. But now the city was booked. At least by his budgetary standards, the hotel rooms that were still available were absurdly expensive. So three years after he had been awarded his doctorate summa cum laude, student communes once again. He could think of little worse.

Maximilian rang the doorbell. Indistinct rustling came from the intercom, but the door was pushed open, lights came on in the stairwell, and a "fourth floor, elevator is unfortunately broken" sounded from above. Things were getting better. He was panting by the time he had heaved his untrained body, the suitcase with a week's worth of clothes for the fair, and his laptop bag upstairs. Standing in the doorway was a young man he estimated to be maybe in his mid-20s. Leather pants, sandals, bare chest tattooed all over, full beard, and man-bun, or whatever they called that hairstyle. A hipster to the core. "Max?" he asked. "I'm Leo, welcome! Your room is right across the hall, here's the bathroom and there's the kitchen. Would you like to join us?". Maximilian declined with thanks. To sit down in the smoked kitchen, where cigarettes, shisha and obviously a few joints were consumed, was really the last thing he could imagine. The smell that hung in the apartment quickly got into his head. And it was Sunday night at 22:00, he just wanted to go to bed, tomorrow at 06:00 he had to be in the cab to help his colleagues open the booth.

Fuck, why did fairs always have to start so early. 05:00 was no time for him. His studies simply weren't behind him long enough for him to get used to the rhythm of professional life. Quietly, wearing only the boxers he had slept in, he went to the bathroom. Normally, he was only in Leipzig on weekends, and his five flatmates, with whom he had been sharing this flat for eight months now, were only used to movement in the hallway and bathroom at this time of day when someone came home on the weekend. He was just the buffer here, but they all liked each other. And with his salary, they could at least afford a cleaning lady and a fully automatic coffee machine.

Showered and shaved, he stood in front of his closet in his shared room. He hadn't even considered that he didn't have anything sensible for the trade fair. On weekends, he needed something for stoned evenings in the shared kitchen and for raved evenings. The only suit that hung here had been hanging here for eight months. And that was ten kilos ago, which he had lost thanks to regular jogging and yoga. Well, that had to be okay for today; the important customers never came on the first day of the trade show anyway. Nevertheless, he was looking forward to the day. Unlike his colleagues, who tended to hole themselves up in the labs, he had taken pleasure in sales. Accordingly, the nerds were happy to rarely come out of their corner for technical questions today; most of the work was done by Max and his somewhat younger colleague Kevin from Marketing. When the trade fair gates closed, the two of them moved from booth party to booth party, while the other colleagues probably sat happily in front of their computers in their hotel rooms. When he unlocked the door to the shared apartment at 10:00 p.m., the air was already as smoky as it was every evening. Max just quickly took off his suit, hung it neatly on the window for airing and sat down with his friends in adilettes, sweatpants and a T-shirt. It was nice to be home during the week. In Munich, where he had to live because of his job, he hadn't felt comfortable for a long time.

Fortunately, he didn't have to be at the fair so early today. But he didn't want to be too late either. After all, he had only been with the company for a good year and wanted to do a good job. But first a smoke and a coffee. And then off to the bathroom. Kevin and Max had a successful and entertaining day. The two of them rocked the booth simply because they both stood out fashionably. Between all the overweight older gentlemen in ill-fitting suits, they were both by far the best dressed. Max had been unsure at first whether the slim-fitting suit in the eye-catching Tratan fabric with the high-gloss Doc Martins didn't look a bit too Britpop, but Kevin assured him that his ass would come out great in it. And Max didn't get the impression that his competence was in doubt because of the outfit, either.

After his colleagues had left the booth on time again and no booth parties were scheduled for tonight, Max and Kevin registered for dinner at the WG. Loaded with two cases of red wine, the two arrived and were received accordingly euphoric. But it could also be due to the fact that at 6:00 p.m. the first joint was already circling. In any case, it was an exuberant evening and that Kevin would not spend the night in the hotel today was quickly clear after the blowjob in the bathroom.

When Max woke up in the morning around 06:00, he realized how lucky he was that Kevin was with him at the fair. Max was fresh out of university, the signatures on his doctorate certificate barely dry, and Kevin had been in the business a few years longer. That was a great comfort for the work at the booth. And for the past night it was not helpful, but just horny. Since he moved into the flat-sharing community two and a half years ago at the beginning of his doctoral studies, Max had kept himself fit mainly by playing soccer with the boys in the park, running track and doing yoga, and maybe the occasional jog and swim. Kevin had discovered his enjoyment of pumping iron a year and a half ago, and by now it was impossible to miss. Max didn't like mountains of muscle on himself, and he wouldn't have wanted Kevin's magnificent full beard and blatant undercut. But on the guy next to him in bed, it looked divine.

Max and Kevin showered together. Also because it was horny, primarily because the bathroom schedule was tight in the shared apartment. And because their schedule was tight too, Kevin couldn't go back to the hotel and get a fresh shirt. So, because of the uniform appearance, only a t-shirt under the suit had to do for Kevin and Max today. Whereby Max's t-shirt stretched over Kevin's chest alarmingly. As expected, today, Wednesday, was the day with the most trade visitors. And even though Max still lacked a lot of practical experience, he scored with brilliant theoretical knowledge. There was corresponding praise from Kevin as the two of them drank an after-work beer at the neighboring stand. Unfortunately, Kevin couldn't come with them to the WG today, as he still had an official customer appointment, at which, much to their annoyance, the older colleagues had to come along. Max enjoyed it all the more to sit at the kitchen table at 20:00 in sweat pants and T-shirt. Sure, the discussions sooner or later got to the point that Max had made himself a slave to the old economy and a climate destroyer to boot. But he could live with that. With a joint in any case.

Thursday morning. The fair was as good as over. After all, there was really good money in it. Max was grateful that he could combine his work as a student trainee so well with the hot phase of his doctorate. He had already used part of his salary in advance for the suit that he wore to the fair and that he also wanted to wear to the viva. Max thought he looked awesome in it. The slim-fitting navy blue suit was perhaps a bit conservative for him. But it accentuated his lean and wiry body just great! The day at the fair was exhausting. The visitors really only ever wanted to see his more experienced colleagues, so Max spent most of the time just standing around decoratively. He could hardly wait for the end of the trade show day. Kevin was invited to a trade show party and wanted to take him with him. And thank god the party turned out to be quite boring and so the two of them ended up in one of Max's favorite corner bars first. And then around 10:00 p.m. in Max's bed.

Kevin was certainly five years older than Max. A seasoned marketing manager and beast of a man. Max, who was just about to take his exams, didn't have to hide visually, but the hairy and full-bearded colossus didn't really fit in at all with the rather slender and still very youthful-looking student. Nevertheless, they had fucked like rabbits. Kevin had ordered a cab early and had gone to the hotel to freshen up and change for the fair. Max had left his waiter outfit in the catering area of the fair and just had to quickly jump in the shower and then into the S-Bahn before his shift started. Eyeing his reflection in the windowpane, he wondered if he should follow Kevin's example and get a beard and some tattoos, too. Friday was the last day of the fair, and things were getting high. Tomorrow, Saturday, maybe a few more foreign guests would come. But in itself the specialized public departed today starting from 15:00 o'clock so slowly. Max already had a few years of trade fair experience and had meanwhile risen to the position of shift leader. He knew some of the waiters and waitresses, some of them in passing, and some of them better from university. The jobs here were well paid and in demand. But he also had to walk some miles, easy money it was not. Still, Max enjoyed the day. He assumed this would be the last time he did this. Next year, he was either going to write his doctoral thesis. Or already work in the chemical industry. He had enough offers. Too bad, actually, he looked' really good with the white shirt, the narrow black tie that disappeared between the third and fourth button in the shirt and the long white apron over the tight black pants. He was a handsome man, and he knew it. And that occasionally brought him even with a stud like Kevin.

In the evening, he made three crosses when he could take off his shoes. His feet were just used to sneakers and Docs. Good thing tomorrow would be the last day he got to serve trade show guests dressed as a penguin. The others had the foresight to order pizza, beer and something to smoke, and by 9:00 p.m. Max was exhausted and in bed.

The last day of the fair. Finally. If only because he no longer had to argue with his stupid supervisor. Max had only one or two trade fairs less experience, but at just under 26 years of age, he was clearly the younger one. And his boss let him feel that. That's why he wasn't allowed to work in service today, but had to work as a barista in the coffee bar. One advantage was that he could keep his clothes on without any problems. Sneakers, jeans, T-shirt and beanie. Only the black apron he had to wear. And another advantage was that rat-hot Kevin would drop by from time to time. Today rather more often. On the last day, there was simply little going on. At 4:00 p.m., the first booth builders arrived and began to dismantle the booths. And Kevin asked Max if he would like to go out for a bite to eat with him before Kevin headed back to Munich. Kevin had chosen a steak restaurant that Max would never go to. Much too expensive. And he lived mostly vegan. But being invited by the hottest guy at the whole fair was more than okay. The only pity was that Kevin didn't have time to come up for a fuck today. But at least Max could still suck his boner as a farewell. A worthy end to a strenuous week at the fair.

Sunday, 10:00 o'clock! Finally slept in again. Actually, Max should have been working on his bachelor thesis. But among the other sociologists he was considered a mega nerd anyway. A bachelor with not even 25 was rather unusual at his faculty… And today the weather was great. Having breakfast somewhere in the sun now just sounded more appealing. And finally he could just slip into his pants and tank top without showering and hide his unwashed hair under his hat. A quick glance in the mirror. Perfect. And tomorrow he would make an appointment with the tattoo artist he trusted. He would definitely invest some of his hard-earned money from the past week in ink. Let's see what kind of inspiration he could get on the street.

#inked man #tank top #male tf #age reduction #reality change

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mylifeisactuallyamess · 2 years ago

Text

Chapter 3: To Learn is to Know

A/N: Enjoy!

Warnings: not a lot. Info dumping I guess 🤣

Word Count: 4.8k

Masterlist

When you got back to the cabin Hux went and stood near the fire pit looking out at the forest that bordered on the edge of your little garden.

“It’s still out there,” you called to him and he turned slightly. “The thing you landed in.” He looked back at the trees, hands clasped behind his back as the wind flared the tails of his greatcoat.

“Do you remember where?”

“Well it was dark,” you huffed at the weight of the bags before turning and kicking the rear door of your truck shut. “I’m sure we’d find it.”

He took a moment before almost reluctantly following you inside. You handed him the clothes and told him to go and make sure they fit. Moving around the kitchen you put away all the food and made another coffee before flopping down at the table and opening your laptop once more to stare at the blank document. You typed a sentence and instantly hated it, deleting it you tried again only to wince at yourself. The first sentence was always the hardest and let’s face it, your mind was elsewhere.

Your eyes flickered up when the bedroom door opened and you inadvertently inhaled sharply at the sight. He had the smart shoes on, comfortably covered by the hem of those smart black trousers. You found yourself straightening in your seat, your gaze travelling up to the impeccably tucked in black shirt, the belt looped perfectly and was sitting nicely on his hips. He held his arms out as though testing the length of the sleeves before adjusting the cuffs with his long fingers to make them more comfortable. He’d left the top button undone, his hair drifted over his brow and you saw with a flip of your stomach he hadn’t shaved even though you’d grabbed him a razor.

“Do I blend in?” He asked haughtily.

“Yes,” you had to clear your throat and try again. “Yes, you look…” handsome? Just my type? Gorgeous? He looked up at you waiting for you to finish your sentence. “Good,” you finished lamely. Sinking down in your seat you bit your bottom lip as the scent of the aftershave you’d bought him wafted across to you making your entire body tense. “Do you like it?” You coughed subtly again trying to rid yourself of the husky tone to your voice. Your reaction was ridiculous.

“If it is your planet's custom to dress in this way then I have no choice.”

“Yes. Yes, it is our custom.” You tried to concentrate on the screen but it blurred as your eyes lost focus.

“Your clothes look more comfortable,” he pointed out, jealously eyeing your chunky knit cardigan and black leggings tucked into your thick thermal socks.

“Well I’m a Princess I can wear what I like.” He huffed lightly through his nose and went to stand at the window, looking at the outside world. He put a hand in his pocket and you felt yourself melting at the fine image before you, which was ridiculous.

“I need something to do,” he announced suddenly.

“What kind of things did you do in your down time on the ship?”

“I didn’t get down time,” he snapped. “What are you doing on the datapad?”

“It’s not a…” you were going to correct him but honestly it was pointless. “I’m trying to write a book but I can’t shift my block.” He came to look over your shoulder, his eyes roaming over the laptop and you desperately tried not to react to his closeness and sniff him.

“I wish to learn these,” he said, running a hand lightly over the keys. “Your written language is different to mine.”

“Wait,” you looked up at him with a surprised look. “It is?”

“We write in Aurebesh and speak Basic.”

“I speak English and write in English.”

“How…original.” You rolled your eyes at his dry tone.

“Let me dig out some pads and pens and we can get started.” You had some lined pads and a leather bound journal that someone had got you as a gift but you never got round to using it. Running upstairs and grabbing a couple of pens you skipped back down the stairs finally feeling like you weren’t the stupidest person in the room for a change. This put you both on an even level and you were going to show him you weren’t entirely useless. You made some coffee for you both, highly aware he watched what you did with a vigilant eye. The smell of fresh coffee made you smile as you settled back down at the table, moving the laptop out of the way and he accepted the cup you had filled for him. Sliding across the pad and pen you didn’t miss the slight set line in his lips, the subtle flex of his jaw and you knew something was wrong.

“What’s up?”

“Up?” He enquired, his nose wrinkling in a way that expressed his utter displeasure at something, which you kinda liked.

“Apologies General. What seems to be the problem?” You asked, trying to match his accent and he frowned clearly deciding if you were mocking him or not.

“I haven’t written for quite some time. All the higher ranking officers are taught of course. But I am afraid to say it is a skill I have let slide.”

“What do you do then?” You asked with a slight frown.

“Well everything goes into the datapad.”

“So you don’t write anything? No little notes or reminders, a shopping list?”

“No, no little notes, I don’t need reminders and I don’t need to do any shopping. The droids cook and the lower staff deal with all that.”

“How the other half live,” you mumbled. “Right well this is a pen and this is paper…” you watched as he curiously lifted a single sheet, the paper slipped through his fingers and drifted back to the bulk of the pad.

“How does the ink not bleed through such thin sheets?”

“Because it’s not that kind of ink. Watch,” you leaned over your paper clearly writing out the alphabet in capitals and you could almost feel his curiosity grow. “Now you,” you said pointing to his pad and he picked up the pen, twisting it between his pale fingers before finding a comfortable hold. He was slow, much slower than you but each mark on the paper was precise and finally he sat back. You put both pads together comparing the different alphabets. “You have 34, we only have 26,” you observed.

“These ones are combinations like cherek and enth.” He pointed to a combination of ch and ae. You listened as he spoke, drinking in everything he told you, watching the way his eye flitted over the paper only to hold your gaze in the next moment. You forced yourself to focus and not get lost in the intensity of his pale green eyes, or the way he subconsciously brushed his red hair out of his face. You had no idea how long the pair of you sat there comparing words and letter combinations until your stomach rumbled and you were forced to look at the time.

“We should eat,” you suggested leaning back in your chair and stretching. “Oh I did find this though.” You passed him the leather book. “Maybe you could make it into a journal you know, write about your time on Earth. So you don’t forget.” Me. You wanted to say it but something made you stop.

“That is very thoughtful,” he murmured and you turned before your face could give away how pleased you were. He moved over to stoke the fire like he’d seen you do before and you busied yourself in the kitchen making some pasta for dinner, trying not to watch him as he settled in a spot on the sofa already writing. He stayed there the whole time you cooked, curiosity niggled at you but you were fairly sure he was sketching something as well as making notes. Biting your lip you found yourself moving onto your tiptoes only to turn abruptly when he sat back with a sigh.

“Dinner,” you announced as you plated the food up and he came over to the table, the book under his arm when you laid the food and drinks down.

“There is one thing I do enjoy about this planet,” he commented. “It’s your cooking.” You felt the heat flare up in your body and cleared your throat slightly.

“My cooking is nothing special.”

“The food is much nicer than what I’m used to.”

“That’s what you get for letting droids cook,” you mumbled. To your surprise he nodded in agreement.

“You’re probably right, also our supplies are limited to the bare essentials. Just things the body needs to survive and nothing more.”

“It sounds rather miserable up there.”

“On the contrary. It’s the only place I’ve ever belonged. Leading the charge on planetary liberation. My troopers have the best training the Galaxy has ever seen, we aim to serve and provide. We offer aid to less wealthy planets, planets who cannot sustain themselves, planets on the brink of civil war and governmental collapse. Some planets are ravaged by crime, the Hutts, Crimson Dawn, Guavian Death Gang…”

“A death gang?” You exclaimed, swallowing the food too quickly and coughing abruptly.

“No one can withstand the might of the organisation I helped build,” as he spoke, his eyes misted over slightly. “Even the Resistance, no matter how hard they try.”

“How did you come to lead?”

“I was born into it. I took over from my father after he…unfortunately died.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” you said quietly. The loss of your parents still hurt you even after all these years.

“Don’t be. My father was not what you would call ,conventional.” Frowning, you sipped the wine before asking your next question.

“How so?” He pushed some food around his plate, a tiny sneer lifting the corner of his lips.

“I don’t think I know you well enough to have that conversation,” he repeated what you’d said to him before and immediately you understood. You wanted to ask more questions but you’d both forced an unspoken rule on your trauma. Because that was no doubt what it was for him and he was probably the type to never admit it.

“What do you have for currency?” You asked, changing the subject and he attacked the topic with relish.

“The widely used currency is Credits. The Outer Rim territories use something known as Wupiupi. The First Order is aiming to unite the Galaxy under one organisation so then things like inter-currencies would be obsolete.”

“Your organisation?”

“Of course,” he responded quickly. “What about Earth?”

“We have so many different currencies, each country has its own form of money. We here in America have dollars but over in England they have pounds and in Europe they use the Euro. They are all worth different amounts too so what is, say, one dollar here would be something else entirely in China.” Hux drank in every word and you imagined he was itching to make a note of it in his journal.

“All on one planet?”

“Yeah, why is that so hard to believe?” You asked, drinking some more wine.

“Nothing surprises me about this planet anymore. It’s so…different.”

“I would have thought you’d be used to different?” He seemed to ignore your question and carried on talking almost to himself.

“It’s almost like many planets have amalgamated on one rock and all learned to coexist. Fascinating.”

“So is Basic the most used language?” You wanted to keep him talking, to learn as much as you could even though none of it sounded real at all.

“There are too many languages to even know where to start. Each race has its own language, the Hutts have Huttese, the Twi’leks speak Ryl, Rodians have Rodese.”

“These aren’t…humans?” His jaw tightened and now you felt like you were annoying him, but his need to educate you drove him to keep talking.

“No. Humans are the most wide spread race in the Galaxy and what the Imperials and now the First Order are made up of.”

“So to find a whole undiscovered planet full of them is pretty shocking,” you chuckled, taking a sip of wine.

“That is certainly a resource I did not consider.”

“You can’t call humans a resource!” He drank from his own glass, his eyes on his plate.

“No I suppose not,” he finally murmured. The rest of the meal was finished in an awkward silence and you tried not to think too hard about who was sitting at your table. But everything he said was outlandish and unrealistic and yet he was so sure of himself. Getting up you held a hand out for his plate and he passed it over, watching as you moved over to the sink. You debated what to do next, you didn’t fancy sitting up in your room.

“Do you want to watch some tv with me?” You asked him drying your hands and seeing he had some notes in his journal already, all neat and precise.

“What kind of holovids do you have?” You shrugged, motioning for him to follow and flopped down on the sofa while he carefully sat in the armchair.

“What do you fancy? We have factual, fictional, magical, some based on real life. What did you watch on your, you know? The ship.”

“I never had time to waste on the holonet so I never got into anything. Mitaka used to tell me about something but the details escape me.”

“Mitaka? You had friends?”

“He was…is my Lieutenant.” You flicked through the channels trying to fight the urge to put something spacey on because he’d no doubt moan or point out some inaccuracies and you just wanted to relax.

“How about NCIS?”

“If you’d like.” You swung your legs up, pulling them to your body as you smirked lightly. Man could be a politician with his vague answers.

You got through two episodes before he opened his mouth, pointing out how they seemed to clearly break rules and protocol left right and centre. You leaned back to watch him gesticulate wildly at the tv, his third glass of whiskey balanced on his knee. It struck you how odd this all was but also how easily the pair of you had slotted together in your little cabin. Yes he gave the impression he was eccentric almost and some of the things he said blew your mind but you were enjoying having him in your space. Sometimes you wondered if he was just as lonely as you on that big space boat and that’s why you’d just settled into an easy rhythm so quickly.

You were starting to feel tired but he still seemed wide awake and you wondered if he slept. Glancing over at your laptop an idea formed in your mind and you strode over to pick it up off the counter. Hux looked up, interest flickering in his gaze.

“This is a computer, if you click here you can get the internet up and it has everything you could ever need to know about….Earth. Us. Humans.”

“I am a human.” Right.

“I meant Earthling humans you’re a…an arkanisian?” You winced as you butchered your way through the word.

“Arkanian.” You nodded, fully accepting the correction.

“I’m going to go to bed, feel free to browse what you like. Goodnight General.”

“I’d say, Armitage is just fine.”

“Armitage.” There was just the faintest clench of his jaw but it was swiftly followed by a forced smile which you guessed was progress. You trudged upstairs hoping he didn’t get into too much trouble while you slept.

—

The next day was cold, the threat of rain rumbled over the horizon and you scurried downstairs to rebuild the fire. Your steps slowed as you took in the scene before you, the smell of freshly brewed coffee hit your nose and you saw the fire was crackling nicely.

Armitage was sitting at the kitchen table, his hair slightly tousled and he clutched a cup of coffee in his hands. He was still on your laptop, his eyes wide as he read the screen but what shocked you the most was Millicent. Your oaf of a pet was taking up his entire lap and he was running his long fingers through her soft downy fur. They both looked up as you stepped off the last step, one set of green eyes and one set of gold.

“Not the tooka you were expecting?” You asked, surprising yourself that you’d even remembered anything he said.

“Much more pleasant than a tooka. Also I figured out your caf contraption.” His voice sounded tired, a slight gravelly undertone and you shivered from the sound of it.

“Have you slept at all?” You asked even though you could guess at the answer. His shirt was looking a little disheveled, the top fastenings undone but he looked very relaxed for the first time since he’d arrived.

“No, I've been reading about Earth, your people, your history. Your lack of understanding.” You choked on the glass of water you were drinking but he ignored you. “You’ve only travelled to your moon? You send probes out into space and you still find nothing yet you have a telescope that can see other galaxies? How do you live like this? It’s so basic.”

“Basic?” You gasped still trying to clear your lungs of water.

“No droids, no intergalactic travel and yet you have all these sci-fi programmes that are all utterly preposterous. As if there are stargates and all the other stupid notions you Earthlings imagine. The only one that’s the closest to actual space travel is Star Trek.” He looked up at you from his rant taking in your slack jawed expression and let out a breath of annoyance.

“You really have been up all night.”

“The First Order would implement regulations that could make this a prosperous planet indeed. Mainly your food trade, you don’t really have anything else you can offer the Galaxy.” You sank into a chair still trying to process everything he’d previously said.

“You think we have nothing else to offer?”

“Your technology is rudimentary, your travel is archaic. The knowledge you possess is basic at best. I've seen some underdeveloped planets in my time but this is something else. I mean not even any planetary defence? How do you protect yourselves? How have you gone unnoticed for so long?”

“When you’re quite done insulting my home world,” you murmured, hiding your face in your hands as you leaned on the table. He snapped his mouth shut, still stroking your cat who purred shamelessly into his ear as she headbutted his cheek. “So you've come to the conclusion you’re stuck here?”

“It would seem so.” He looked resigned, his fingers tightening in Millicent’s fur but she just purred harder.

“You should probably go and sleep.”

“I find sometimes it is not a necessity.”

“Suit yourself. I thought we could take a walk today and see if we can find your pod.” Millicent mewled from his arms but made no move towards the bowl of food you were preparing. “Millie. Breakfast!” Her tail swished and she glared at you but still made no move away from Hux. “Stupid beast,” you sighed. “What did you think?”

“Do you have tools?”

“Of course I do. What do you think is in my shed out there?”

“In all honesty, I dread to even contemplate what could be out there.”

“Come and see for yourself but I would, ah, suggest a change of clothes.” He looked down at himself just as Millicent moved.

“Why?”

“Because we’re going into the forest and your nice shoes and thin trousers are not going to cope. I’d suggest your boots and the blue jeans I got you.”

“Is that what they’re called,” he grumbled, dislodging Millicent much to her displeasure.. You pulled your coat on and headed outside to the shed. The lock was slightly stiff but you were used to it, giving it a wiggle and finally the light of day flooded the small space. You had inherited all your dad and grandads tools and you didn’t have the heart to throw them away. You weren’t sure what tools he’d need or why so you just pottered about until he appeared like a looming shadow at the doorway. You swallowed discreetly at the sight of him in the t-shirt and Levi’s grateful that his greatcoat hid how form fitting they were on him, tapering off into his tall black boots.

“Welcome to my shed. What are you going to need?” You felt a little thrill at the way he meticulously picked up almost everything, eyeing the end or flicking his thumb over a certain tool. He looked to be running an internal monologue as he made his way round, passing screwdrivers and spanners of varying size, cable cutters, pliers, also a mini hook and pick set. You carefully put them in a canvas tool bag you found holding it open as he slipped more tools in. You heard him muttering to himself at one point as he concentrated, murmuring about parachutes and thrusters. You were not a very practical person, you had enough knowledge to get by, maybe put up a shelf and make furniture but this was next level and you felt your curiosity rise to new heights.

“I think that’s everything I might need.” He followed you back outside and you pointed in the general direction you remembered from that night.

“What are you going to do?”

“The technology within the escape pod belongs to the First Order,” he paused speaking for a second and all you could hear was the crunch of your feet over the stick ridden ground and the clank of the tools in your bag. “It could be dangerous in the wrong hands.”

“Right, alien tech. Gotcha.” Looking up at the trees you felt slightly disoriented in the day but you were fairly sure you could easily find your way. “Try and be quiet around here,” you whispered, peering through the trees. “There’s a bear that lives in these parts. I don't know how he’d feel about us visiting today.” You noticed that Hux moved with a fluidity you hadn't seen before. He suddenly became quieter than you, his eyes piercing the gloom between the trees and even his coat seemed to know not to snag any twigs and make extra noise.

“You need to teach me to do that,” you muttered.

“There is much I could teach you.” You rolled your eyes and continued to lead him deeper into the trees. The tracks from your truck the other day stopped abruptly but you carried on, picking your way and finally seeing the smooth alloy side of the capsule.

Armitage crouched before it, running a critical eye over the pod, the door was open still and you could see where nature had explored it. Muddy tracks were all over the glass and metal, even on the inside which you finally got a decent look at. It was large inside, able to house at least 6-8 people, seats lined the sides and one seat was near the front which you guessed was for a pilot. A panel of dials and buttons with what you assumed to be flight controls filled the front of the cabin.

“The parachute didn’t release. Being in the hyperspace lane must have fried the mechanism…how did you get me out?” He asked curiously.

“You don’t remember landing?”

“If I did I wouldn’t be asking would I?” He bit at you in exasperation.

“Well I saw it land, I followed the path of trajectory and when I got here you opened the door and rolled out. I ran back for my truck and managed to get you back to the cabin. You weren’t very responsive but you listened to some things I asked you.”

“Such as?”

“Can you hear me? Are you alright? The usual for someone who just fell out of the sky.” He looked up at you almost puzzled for a moment before rising gracefully to his full height.

“You didn’t ask me where I was from or question me for information?”

“Armitage, you’d just fallen out of the sky! You were bleeding and clearly suffering from concussion. Why would I then interrogate you?!”

“Knowledge is power.” He adjusted his gloves before ducking down to get into the pod. It frustrated you that he always seemed to assume the worst, almost as though he’d never been shown a kind hand. You got the impression this was a man that had to claw his way through life, fighting for every moment. You followed him, gingerly stepping inside and trying to take in everything at once. You were in a freaking spaceship! You touched the black panelled sides flinching when one opened automatically.

“Oh I’m sorry!” You cried out lifting your hands up as the panel fully opened and exposed what was inside.

“Bacta.” He told you absently. “It’s a med kit.”

“This is the famous bacta you tell me about whenever you get the chance?” He ignored you, ducking down under the control panel to rip open a section, wires of all different colours spilled from inside and deftly he began to unplug wires, separating some out.

“Clippers,” he demanded, holding his hand out and you complied with a soft sigh. You crouched down and just watched. Being the daughter of a practical man who almost built his house from the ground up you were aware of how skilled Hux actually was. He knew his way round this ship like he had a mental map in his mind and soon pieces were beginning to pile up between you. Dials, wires, buttons there was barely anything left on the control panel by the time he sat back in the seat.

As time passed you felt your attention drifting and you had taken to sitting near the door scrolling through your phone, still toying with the idea of telling Sage what was happening right now. You hadn’t heard from her in a couple of days and it was unusual but no news was good news you supposed. Next he moved around emptying the compartments letting out a huff of annoyance at a small cylinder in his hand. He pressed the button but only static sounded and he tossed it into the pile.

“What’s this?” You asked, freeing a black piece of fabric from under a seat. “A hat?”

“Yes. My hat.” You put it on, putting the hat at a jaunty angle you looked up at him and pouted slightly as you posed.

“How do I look?” He gave you a slight smile that turned up the corner of his mouth and you had to give him a brief one back. He looked so nice when he smiled.

“Like you’d fit right in,” he murmured, holding his hand out for it. Reluctantly you handed it over watching as he swiped a thumb over the insignia on the front. It matched the one on the sleeve of his coat.

“I feel like I’m going to need to get the truck to take all this back.” He glanced up and just nodded before going back to what he was doing. “Alright then,” you mumbled, turning and leaving him to his brooding.

To your surprise he helped you load the truck, you expected him to treat you like a worker and carry everything but he seemed to be relishing this task even if he barely said a word. You slammed the trunk shut watching as he positioned branches and leaves strategically over the pod to hide it from view.

“You say no one comes out here?” He asked firmly.

“Absolutely no one.” Hux looked around grimly, pulling a face of displeasure.

“I am still loathed to leave it here.”

“I promise Armitage, the only thing that could happen is a bear will find it and hibernate in it.”

“Not possible, the door only activates from the inside.” He followed you to the truck sliding in next to you.

“How do people get you out?”

“It’s to stop people pulling you out, what if I had landed on a hostile planet and the natives wanted to kill me? I could have stayed in the pod until my ship arrived and I would be rescued.”

“You talk about fighting and death like it’s a way of life,” you muttered.

“It is.” You debated asking him more but from the look on his face he was done talking.

#metanoia #general hux x f!reader #general hux x reader #general hux x you #armitage hux x fem!reader #armitage hux x reader #armitage hux x you

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duffel-bag-review · 1 year ago

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kazumiku · 2 years ago

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Sides of a coin

08 Cat

07 Group chat, m.list, 09 Affectionate

Tommorrow arrived fairly quickly, yesterday spent with your usual banter and studies like a normal day would go. Your morning classes for today ended early, giving you more time to fix your notes before heading out.

Once you exit the university gates, you're met with the burnt scent of smoke from the vehicles on the road, making your nose scrunch but you've smelt worse before anyways.

You march along the sidewalk, carefully stepping over cracks on the worn out pavement. This place really needs to fix their government funds and fix these roads, you thought while humming to yourself a song you heard on the way.

Your steps halt, stopping in front of the cat café that was local to your city, popular amongst the students as a cozy study place. Albeit, the prices were high—might as well be called a restaurant by all means reasonable—but the customer service makes up for the expenses.

Stepping in, greeted by the entrance chime and a cat rubbing on your leg. Brown fur, almost maroon. It reminded you of a certain someone once its glassy eyes looked up to yours, a familiar shade of green.

"Good morning, miss. Are you here alone or are you waiting for friends?" A voice feminine voice called, a receptionist greeting you with a bright smile that could light up the whole room.

You mirror her smile with a subtle bow of your head in respect. "Actually, I'm here for a reservation under the name Heizou," You answer, showing her your school ID for your name to be scanned and checked on the list. "Perfect. Right this way, miss."

The café was spacious, both students and tourists sitting on tables, others on the ground playing with the furry companions with glee. Some cats preferring to stay out of the ruckus, sleeping on cat bed high off the ground to avoid energetic kittens of pouncing on them.

Escorted to the private rooms, the previous cat who greeted you on the entrance had followed, meowing in an attempt to get your attention. A clingy cat, you must admit, finding the way it calls for you endearing.

Having arrived, you step in with the cat following, skimming your eyes through the interior. It had a cozy atmosphere, books on the wall, covered securely by a see through sliding door, just to avoid the furry animals on making the leather covers their scratch toy.

You sit down on the table in the middle of the room, placing your bag down on the floor beside your chair before taking out your laptop. But before you could set your hands on the keyboard, the maroon cat had jumped on your lap.

It kneads the flesh of your thigh like bread, meowing to procure for your attention. Adorable as it seems, it heavily reminded you of the way Heizou would poke at you, both to annoy you and to catch your awareness of his intentions of annoying you.

It annoyed you, the way the cat resembles Heizou too much for comfort. But your gaze quickly softens as the fur ball rubs it's head on your chest. As if it noticed your irritation, only wanting to ease you as the cat purred.

notes; sino pwedi magturo sakin ng tagalog slang words pls

taglist; @skaramush

#genshin smau #heizou smau #heizou x you #genshin x y/n #heizou x y/n #shikanoin heizou #heizou

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imontexbags · 6 months ago

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pisayers · 2 years ago

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The Triage

The clickity-clacks of my brown leather shoes were heard across campus as I crushed the dried leaves below me. With my heavy black backpack draped around me and my gray laptop bag dangling on my four fingers, I was on my way to the triage once again to hang out with some of the gang. It was the perfect spot. The cool breeze passing by but still being shielded from the pouring rain if necessary, the view of the mediocre basketball and volleyball games on the grounds, and the pedestal for some of the worst PDA you will ever see on campus. I came for the friends, though.

The crunching of the pebbles beneath my leather shoes alerted the couples in the triage. I walked over to one of the few remaining empty chairs to place my backpack and laptop bag, only to be halted by a leg kicking out from beside it.

“Kay Emil ‘yan. Hanap ka iba.” said Emma, her pursed lips pissing me off.

Now with both legs on the chair, Emma laid her head on Emil’s shoulders as he laughed at one of many favorite scenes they have from Itaewon Class. With a bowl of jin ramen on his palm, Emil gently dangled several strands of noodles on his customized bamboo chopsticks and offered me a bite, but I refused. Disgruntled, I walk away from the scene, only to bump into a stack of chairs with a backpack on the seat.

One unwritten rule that is implemented in the triage is that chairs with backpacks and/or file cases on them are considered as occupied since they are to be used later. At first, I was sort of okay with the rule. However, things started getting infuriating for me when my batchmates would stack two or three chairs on top of each other and count it as a reservation. Of course, you already know who those chairs are for: random person, his/her partner, and a possible best friend tagging along as a third wheel. Thus, the triage once again is scattered with a congregation of ‘occupied’ chairs with an array of backpacks, filecases, and sling bags on the seats in different colors. Some even leave their actual phones and wallets on the chairs. Probably the rich dudes who are about to get into La Salle.

Already frustrated from this cycle of not finding chairs in the triage over the months despite seas of them being occupied over some brainless rule, I decide to simply snatch one from Haven’s draped arm on the top rail, only to be met by a powerful kick towards the gut. I buckled backward and nearly fell to the tiled floor, only to be saved by Julio’s outstretched arms.

“Aray!” I shouted.

“Ba’t ka kasi humahablot ng upuan? Kay Julio ‘yan, umalis ka.” Haven playfully slapped me on the neck, the three rings on her middle finger leaving behind bruises that could be misconstrued as hickeys.

I darted my eyes to Julio, still trying to get me on my feet as I shook out the dirt from my pants with my aching hands.

“Sorry, pre. Ganyan talaga siya, eh,” he muttered.

“Oks lang. Hanap na lang ako iba.”

Julio and Haven were the flamboyant couple in the triage, their voices echoing throughout the entire campus. This time, they were mock arguing on who was the worst red flag between the two, but I didn’t care about the conversation. All I could remember was Julio playfully slapping Haven on the shoulder, only to miss by a couple of centimeters and have his hand land on the corner of the table, spraining his finger in the process. Their laughter was drowned out by the fury coursing through my veins as I tried to rearrange myself and the contents of my belongings.

I got up and checked the inside of my backpack to see if anything got disarranged. First zipper? File case-clearbook-sketchpad-notebooks order still in place, check. Second zipper? Some items fell out from the pockets: my cologne, a toothbrush, a pack of Advil, and a pen with no ink. Nonetheless, they were still in my backpack, so check. Last zipper? No way anything is falling out of this. Check.

After wiping off the remaining dirt from my laptop bag, I hobbled over to the far corner of the triage, and to my excitement, I found an empty chair by itself near a table with no people in sight. I jogged towards the location and was ready to drop my laptop bag on the seat, but I was fooled once again.

“Wait! Sorry, ‘jan kami nina Sebby hehe.” said Sandy.

With a cup of tokneneng, fishball, and kikiam drowned in sweet-spicy sauce on her baby hands, she beamed at me like she was looking apologetically. I took a step aside to give way to her as she sat down next to Sebby. She speared through a kikiam and two pieces of fishball, then fed her to Sebby, poking his chin and leaving behind a small drop of blood.

“Ay! Sorry bb. Wait. ‘Wag kang gagalaw.”

I expected her to grab a napkin from her purse. However, I caught a glimpse of her licking the drop of blood from his chin and trailing her tongue to his lips, leading to a passionate kiss. That was my cue to leave.

Dejected, I resorted to sitting on the red bench just outside the triage, away from the chatter and noise of my friends. Don’t get me wrong. I want to hang out with them. I want to hear more gossip that they picked up on from other people. I want to see them browsing their Tiktok to find the most offensive clips known to man. I want to have another jamming session with “Ang Huling El Bimbo” being sung for the ninetieth time. However, I need to eat, and I need a seat.

As I nibble off of my burger steak coated with plain mushroom gravy, the booming voice everyone is all too familiar with rattled the beams supporting the triage.

Rose shouted, “HI, GUYS! URONG KAYO. BEBE TIME MUNA KAMI,” tugging Sonny by his collar like he’s her loyal lapdog.

Sonny and Rose were probably the most stable relationship in the batch, but that didn’t stop them from being the most obnoxious. Rose lost hearing in her left ear during a car accident days after her birth, and ever since then, volume modulation in her voice for her became somewhat difficult. It’s as if he spoke in bold, italicized, and underlined capital letters. Still, her ability to snap thousands of photos with him to be posted on Instagram was honestly shocking, and every time she calls him her “little sunny-side-up egg” while squeezing his cheeks, I die a little inside.

Sonny, on the other hand, is probably the more unproblematic out of the two, but the levels to which he does PDA can sometimes be eerie to watch. From neck kisses that make him look like a vampire to thigh caresses that are straight out of Fifty Shades of Grey, you could practically smell the pheromones coming out of both of them every time they are together. I even had the pleasure—or displeasure—of overhearing their little werewolf roleplay in one of the rooms in the academic building. I wish I had Rose’s hearing abilities when that happened.

I couldn’t see what was happening behind me, but I could feel the collective internal sighs that everyone was doing once they came into the scene. I imagined their eyeballs rolling in the same direction like tumbleweeds in the Wild West, but this time, no Rugers were getting whipped out of the holster. Can’t really solve your problems with a gun… in most cases.

As Sandy leaned on his chest, Sebby groaned, “Pwede bang tumahimik muna kayo? Wala ako sa mood.”

“BAKIT? MAY PROBLEMA KA BA?”

“Hayaan mo na, babe. May binili yang dalawa sa counter ng Watson’s kahapon eh kaya mukhang mabait ngayon.” chuckled Sonny.

I jerked my head around in astonishment. I knew Sonny could be a dick at times, but could he really be that insensitive? Nothing wrong with buying protection. I clocked Sebby clenching his fists with rage, but knowing him, I didn’t see it as a threat. First, Sandy was already rubbing her hand on his chest to calm him down while everything was going on. Second, he was a good guy. Too good for his own good, even.

Rose cried, “HALIKA DITO, BABE,” as she wrapped her arms around his neck for a deep kiss.

“Dugyot, putang ina.” cussed Haven as Julio patted her shoulder in an effort to cool her off.

“ISA KA RIN??? BAKA GUSTO MONG IKWENTO KO MGA GINAWA MO KAY JULIO LAST WEEK?”

In a flash, Haven rolled down Julio’s arm sleeve, but it was too late for everyone. Everyone saw the purple scratch marks on his forearm. I knew they had fights, but I didn’t think it could get this ugly.

As if nothing happened, Sonny proceeded to bridal carry Rose onto one of the empty tables and took 0.5x selfies with the newest brand iPhone. Even the phone case screamed rich kid vibes. Encrusted with diamonds and a piece of a small pearl necklace super-glued onto it, the case practically blinded anyone in his close proximity.

“Tama na!” shouted Emma as she slammed the table in front of her.

Clutching her bicep, Emil cried, “Emma! ‘Wag, please?”

“IKAW PA MAY GANANG LUMAPIT SAKIN, HA?”

With a thunderous clack, Rose slapped Emma across his cheek and she fell to the floor, jostling the two stacked chairs with a backpack on top next to her. A red handprint settled on the light complexion of her face, but she was out cold. Emil rushed to her side and held her to his chest with tears streaming down his cheeks.

“TANGINA MO ROSE? ANONG GINAGAWA MO?” growled Haven.

In a flash, Rose clutched at Haven’s pigtails and violently yanked them upward again and again. Haven dug her thumbs deep into Rose’s throat, spit from her cough scattering everywhere. In disgust, Haven kicked her shin, causing her to crash down to the ground. Wild wrestling ensued with both the ladies bear hugging on the floor, rolling around with blouses torn off and curses both in English and Filipino flying all over the place. Small droplets of blood stained the cream-colored tiles, only to be mopped up immediately by their orange plaid skirts.

“BAM!”

The triage fell to a deafening silence.

“SONNY!” shouted Rose, voice hoarse from the tirade of insults she threw earlier.

Sonny lay in a pool of his own blood, a bullet hole right on the school’s logo.

“Hi. Ilibing mo ‘yung bangkay sa greenhouse.” Sandy tapped me on the shoulder with the empty magazine of a Glock.

I froze. Did that really just happen? Your life thrown away because some bitch was annoying you?

“Ano? Gagalaw ka ba o susunod ka sa kanya?” she said sternly as she pointed the gun at me.

I rushed to grab both of Sonny’s forearms and pulled him away from the triage, leaving behind a trail of blood on the pavement. Rose, still hanging on the Nike running shoes on his lifeless body, cursed me with every possible foul word in the dictionary. Tears streamed down my eyes as Sonny’s blank stare pierced through the skies above.

Back at the triage, the couples went back to where they were. Emil, with a cold compress on Emma’s cheek, started making out with her, the cold droplets from the ice pack only intensifying the heat of the moment. On the far side of the triage, Sebby intertwined his fingers with Sandy as she dangled the gun’s trigger guard by her pinky. Out of curiosity, Julio went up to the couple, leaving Haven behind to fix the pigtails on her head.

“Sandy, saan mo nakuha ‘yung baril?” he asked.

“May nagbigay sa ‘kin. ‘Di ko lang pwedeng sabihin kung sino.”

“Ba’t niya binigay sa ‘yo?”

“Hindi niya raw kayang gawin kaya inutusan na lang niya ako.”

Sandy wiped the gun clean and placed it back inside the third zipper.

#student

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