#but at least they have them rip Mrs Wisp

[jrwi-would-they-get-along]

may ferin and ella teach. let the mothers rant about their shitty husbands and pirate-ified kids

[orionwhispers]

Bravado // Tommy Shelby Imagine

(A/N - its been a long ass time and i wanted to ease myself back into writing but this ended up being long and also super super angsty. sorry that this illness imagine came during covid idk whats going on with my imagination lol. love you guys SO much thank you for always being there. reblogs, comments and likes mean everything to me.)

trigger warnings - LOTS of angst. fluff. implied smut. my hc that tommy has a fear of illness, bad descriptions of hospitals. 

He knew something wasn’t right the minute his car pulled into the driveway and you weren’t waiting for him under the great concrete arch, with that smile on your face that made his knees buckle and heart race like he was a love struck teenager.

You were always there as soon as he came home. Barefoot in a broderie dress in the summer with tousled hair and baby pink toenails. Wrapped in a hand knit blanket with fire flushed cheeks and woollen socks in the winter - even running across the gravel and into his arms in the middle of a storm, the ice cold rain whipping across both of your faces as you kissed under the light of the moon.

No matter how shit his day or week or month was, no matter what stained his hands or darkened his heart, no matter what lay heavy and hard deep in his gut, seeing you made everything vanish in the night air like wisps of smoke. You made everything worth it.

He refused to give into fear, he wasn’t that kind of man, so he swallowed all of the nagging thoughts and apprehensions as he came up to the dark foggy windows and the iron cast door. It felt strange turning his key in the lock without the weight of you in his arms or the sticky peach kisses you left down his jaw and neck, the smell of the vanilla in your hair and lavender on your skin.

The second thing that sent a jolt of white hot electricity down his spine was Mary, watching him anxiously and wringing her hands in the hallway. Usually, she was calm and collected, taking his jacket and leather travel bag with her signature placid smile and gentle fingers. Usually she would return to the kitchen and finish up whatever she was making - a hearty roast lamb with rosemary and garlic and glazed potatoes or a pheasant pie with honeyed carrots, always followed by a three layer chocolate ganache cake that was so thick and rich you practically had to saw through the sponge. She would always have dinner piping hot and dripping with gravy by the time the two of you returned downstairs, no matter how many hours it took for you to get... reacquainted.

Now she looked sheepish and pale, her skin almost translucent under the syrupy yellow lights. There was something about the way she stood, as still as a wraith, that made his blood run cold.

“Mary. Where is she?”

“Mr Shelby, I - ” Her voice was strained and hesitant, like a slowly fraying rope.

“Where is my wife?”

She moved forward, creases forming around her eyes. “We tried ringing you in Liverpool but the hotel said that you had already left, so we...”

“You rang me? Why? What’s happened?” He couldn’t hold back the desperation in his voice, and it lingered and festered around them both like a poisonous gas.

“Mrs Shelby came down with something a few days ago, we thought that it was just a common cold but unfortunately she seems to be getting worse.”

He tore upstairs before he could even think, his shoes leaving perfect muddy footprints on the cream carpet. He almost slipped at the top, and he lurched forward, his hands reaching out and holding onto the portrait hanging above the stairs for stability.

It was the oil of the two of you. A soft, personal picture that revealed more than he ever possibly could. The love in your gazes, the hint of a soft, drunk smile on the dangerous gangsters face as you leaned into him, melting into him like butter, him holding onto you as though he couldn’t bear to let you go. It was his favourite photo, one that always washed a sense of calmness over him, a reminder of the woman that he loved and the way he felt around you. But now he felt as if was riding out a terrible storm.

He lived his life with no fear, he was capable and practical and used to the sound of bullets and the copper sweet smell of blood. There was really only one thing, one terrible thing that he couldn’t control, and that was what drove him crazy.

Sickness.

It gnawed at his insides like a rabid dog, clawed under his skin and settled behind his ribs. Losing someone he loved was like ripping out a piece of his heart straight from his chest, and he knew better than anyone what it was like to lose somebody to a violent, quick death - the pull of a trigger or the smack of a fist. At least in those moments he could lock them away in his mind, he could leap in front of a bullet or crack the neck of any man who dared to get too close to you, but there was almost nothing he could do to stop sickness, and the devastation it caused.

When you first met him it had been a surprise, almost amusing, that this powerful God of a man had these small little quirks. His house was always sparkling clean and smelling of Lysol, his fruit bowls were filled with citrus fruits and round, plump blueberries. He always made sure you were wrapped up warm in the winter, always placing his coat around your shoulders and bringing an extra pair of gloves in case you forgot yours. It was adorable, the way he took care of you,

It wasn’t till a little bit later when you learnt of those he had lost. His mother and his childhood sweetheart taken away from him much too soon. It broke your heart when he told you late one night of the sallow tint of their skin and the way he could almost see them vanishing from earth, the way that illness had moulded and changed those he loved the most.

You understood.

Your best friends older sister had died of tuberculosis when you were young. The elderly woman across the street from your first flat had passed away from a bout of horrendous smallpox. Your brother lost his first child to pneumonia. Times were changing but the fear of disease was ever present. Medicine was improving and so was knowledge, but still there remained a huge, dark cloud of what could happen, one that always hung around your husbands head.

——————————————-

All Tommy could think was the worst as he ran through the landing. His heart was in his ears and his bones felt loose, like the sweet liquorice the two of you would share at the pictures. He came to a stop by the bedroom door, tentatively pressing his palm onto the wood and ever so slightly pushing it open, listening to the gentle creak it made.

The room was warm. The lace curtains were pulled shut, and your favourite lavender candles were flickering on your vanity, casting syrupy shadows against the wall. He exhaled loudly as he saw you, bundled up under a mountain of satin sheets and hand crocheted blankets, your hair splayed across the pillows.

He moved to your bedside, pretending not to notice the large, untouched jug of water and the tissue box next to you, hoping and silently praying that you weren’t sick - just asleep and waiting for him, ready to wrap your arms around his neck.

You were silent, your lips parting every so often as you breathed, your chest rising and falling. He reached out gently, as though he was picking up shards of glass, and brushed his fingers against your cheek. Your forehead was beading with sweat, your cheeks flushed, and yet your skin was ice cold to the touch. He recoiled quickly, his heart dropping like a weight into his gut, and he inhaled a shaky, deep breath.

He saw something curled up beside your hands, a fluffy white cloud with sparkling emerald green eyes trained on him. Despite everything, he smiled. He thought of your birthday - of strawberry cheesecake and champagne, and surprising you with a ribbon wrapped little kitten as you woke up. He thought of that day often. How you smiled and leapt onto him with tears in your eyes, his whole world blissfully quiet as he spent the day in bed with you and your new best friend.

He would have preferred a big dog, one with sharp teeth and a menacing gaze to ward of visitors whilst he was away. But you were drawn to the tiny, malnourished runt of the litter who was scared of his own shadow. A kitten no bigger than the size of his clenched fist. A little white hairball who only ate and drank from fine pink saucers. A cat that had a very frustrating habit of crawling in the bedroom right as Tommy’s hand was up your skirt and his lips on the sweet spot of your neck, the tiny thing mewling and crying until you picked him up and nuzzled him into your chest.

He was a horse lover through and through, and never saw himself having time for any other pets. But in the summer when you saw the litter from one of John’s barn cats and fell in love with the sweet baby who mewled and cried and crawled right into your lap - he knew that he would give you anything and everything you wanted.

Including a cat who refused to accept that Tommy was the man of the house.

“Hello, boy.” He said, leaning over to scratch Comet under the chin, using a voice he only reserved for the two of you. “Have you been looking after my girl whilst I’ve been gone?”The cat meowed loudly in reply, pressing his head into Tommy’s palm but not moving from his spot beside you.

Tommy suddenly felt you shift under him and his heart lurched into his throat. He turned to face you, cupping the side of your clammy face as your eyelids fluttered open, blinking under the candlelight. A rush of red hot heat built up in his belly as you registered him, that angelic smile growing on your face, your tired eyes glimmering with recognition of the man you loved.

“Tommy?”

“Hi, Princess.”

You smiled sadly. “You’ve been gone for weeks - I missed you.”

He felt his brows crease as he rubbed along your jawline softly, trying to stop you from falling back asleep. He felt panic in his throat as sour as vomit, and he tried to bite back the nagging feeling that something was very wrong.

“No, sweetheart, I’m early. It’s only Thursday. I left on Monday.”

“Oh.” You said softly, your voice as gentle as the breeze rustling through the trees outside. “Well let me welcome you back properly - let me make you a lemon drizzle or a...” You lifted your head from the pillow and shuffled under your blanket, but he pressed his hands against your shoulder and held you down.

“No. You’re staying right here.”

“But - ”

“No.”

“Hmm. Don’t leave me, Tommy.”

“Never.” He said, his tone firm and cast like stone. He stroked your hair softly as your breathing slowed, but it didn’t nothing to quell the hard thump of his heart in his chest.

——————————-

Tommy left the room as quietly as he could after you had fallen asleep in his arms. He hadn’t wanted to move, not when you were pressed against his chest, looking ethereal but vacant, sweat beading under your brow and your face lacking colour. He wanted to stay with you, curled up by his side, his fingers laced through yours, the sound of your heart thumping in his ears.

But he was a man of action, and seeing you there - your lips cracked and dry, shudders passing through your body and goosebumps raised over your skin - he couldn’t fight the fiery urge to do everything in his power to make you feel alright again.

He found Mary waiting outside the door, chewing on the skin of her lips and swaying on the balls of her feet in anticipation. He grabbed her by the arm, harder than he meant to and something he would apologise for later, and pulled her downstairs, determined to let you rest whilst he got some answers. As soon as they reached the drawing room he spun her around, clenching his jaw and pointing a finger at the anxious maid.

“Where the fuck is the doctor? Why isn’t he here?”

“Mr Shelby.” She said, stepping forward calmly. “We phoned Doctor Moore and he came on Tuesday to see her.”

“Tuesday?” He seethed. “My wife has been ill since Tuesday and no one called me?”

Mary raised her hands in defeat, making it clear that the decision wasn’t hers to make. “He said it was nothing of concern . He gave her some antibiotics and told her to rest. She asked us herself not to call you, she knows how you.. worry.”

He ignored her sugar coated attempt to quell his anger, but if anything it made his vision darken. “When it’s my wife, It is always my concern.”

“Mr Shelby, we were just doing what we were told. As soon as we noticed she wasn’t getting better we phoned the surgery again, but Doctor Thomas was out for the day and said he didn’t think it was necessary to come round again, so we -”

“I don’t give a fuck. My wife is the number one priority. Ring every doctor in England if you have to, get somebody out here now to see my wife.”

He stormed away, anger pulsating through his veins, but he stopped suddenly, and threw out over his shoulder:

“And call Doctor Moore’s ’office. Tell him to expect a visit from the blinders soon.”

———————————————————

Once, when you were first dating, you found Tommy at the door to your flat at midnight, with scraped knuckles and blood dripping from his nose. You let him in, cleaned him up and sat with him in the bath until his skin was clear and his breathing was even. He knew that night, as you were pressed against his chest and his lips were pressed to your scalp that he was truly, madly and completely in love with you.

He remembered waking up the next morning, love drunk and blissful, and finding the bed beside him empty. He found you in the kitchen, wincing slightly and pressing a hot water bottle to your belly as you buttered a few pieces of toast. He rushed to your side with eyes as wide as saucers, concern lacing the features that were usually ice cold and hard as stone. You were completely baffled as he held you at arms length, his bright cerulean eyes trailing up and down your body for any signs of injury he might have missed. You were bewildered at the sight of the powerful man practically on his knees as he made sure you were alright, and you bit back a giggle as his warm palms spread over your abdomen.

“What is it? Whats wrong?”

“Tommy. Sweetheart.” You said softly, bringing his gaze level to yours. “It’s just - you know - that time of the month.”

He brushed off your embarrassment and ran his fingers through your hair, pressing a uncharacteristically gentle kiss to your forehead, sending a swarm of butterflies around the pain in your stomach.

“Do you need anything?” He asked, half ready to run down to the corner shop and buy any amount of painkillers or chocolate bars or your favourite lavender tea that you might need; not caring who saw the seemingly terrifying gang leader in the street with an armful of strawberry laces and salt water fudges.

You smiled like the summer sun and he melted, pulling you close as you whispered in the shell of his ear that you only needed him, and that was all you ever needed.

That was the first time you fully saw the extent of Tommy’s fear, but it definitely wasn’t the last. He knew he wanted you forever and always, and it took only six months of neck kisses and pillow talk, red hot jealousy and possessive hands across your skin and dancing in the rain and falling asleep under the pale yellow moon for him to put a ring on your finger. You were both consumed by your love, as though it was the only thing that mattered, it was insatiable and powerful - the wonderful mix of the devil and his sweet little angel.

And with that, came the good and the bad.

Like when you got food poisoning after Arthur cooked you a Sunday lunch to cheer you up whilst Tommy was gone. He came home to you retching over the toilet bowl with Mary holding back your hair, and swore that he would kill his brother with his own hands. Or when you slipped on ice and broke your arm while out with friends in London, and Tommy went ballistic and tried to ban you from ever leaving the house. It was just in his nature, how he always made sure you walked on the side furthest from the road, kept an arm slung around you whenever you were together, kept his eyes alert and vigilant no matter where you were - always looking out for his girl.

But he had never been like this.

———————————————————-

You were falling in and out of sleep. Waking up drowsy and heavy headed, squinting under bright lights, an ache in your skull and a burning in your throat. Every so often you felt a pinch in your upper arm, a squeeze on your palm, a kiss on your forehead - but you always drifted back into unconsciousness.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed when you woke up. The room was dark and you could hear the wind howling and whipping rain across the windows. You felt all too hot and all too cold at the same time, and the bed was damp with sweat. You struggled and tried to sit up, your head swaying and feeling as heavy as one of Tommy’s marble statues; as if you had been carved up and moulded. You could hear voices out in the hall, and unsteadily got to your feet, moving towards the noises.

“Pneumonia?” You heard through the thick wooden door, instantly recognising your husbands voice. “That’s impossible.”

“Sir...”

“Fucking. Impossible.” You knew his teeth were clenched.

The other man cleared his throat.“I know that it’s hard to hear, Mr Shelby, but your wife is very sick.”

“Just...” You felt your heart flutter and clench in your chest as the sound of his broken words, could practically feel his desperation and you wanted nothing more than to hold him. “Just tell me how to make her better.”

The second man spoke again, his voice softening and lowering, something you knew Tommy would hate. “Mr Shelby, the first round of antibiotics didn’t work and that means that it’s time for something stronger. Usually I would suggest the Birmingham hospital but I don’t think it’s equipped for...” He paused, trying to think over his words carefully. He wanted to convey the severity of the situation but also didn’t want to risk getting a bullet in his head from your very protective husband. “...This kind of reaction. I recommend we send her down to London for extra testing.”

“London? That’ll take two fucking hours. How the fuck can you recommend letting my wife travel that far? Are you out of your fucking mind?”

“I’m my opinion this is the wisest choice to make, but unfortunately that could mean your wife might get worse before she gets better.”

“Worse than she already is? That’s not an option.”

The man you assumed was the doctor was insistent, trying his best to portray the severity of the situation but failing as your hardheaded husband had already come to a decision.

“I’ll look after her here. She’s safest with me.”

Once Tommy had spoken that was the final result, and the doctor slinked away into the darkness and shook his head. You remained peering from behind the door, your tongue between your teeth and your heart hammering.

Tommy took one look at you and frowned, scooping you in his arms like a baby despite your protests. He ignored you, acting playfully and cheerful but you could feel his heated skin and the see flare of his nostrils. You wanted to help him but didn’t know how, and let him tuck you under the covers once again. He kissed your crown and stroked your hair and you wanted to speak but no words would leave your mouth.

“You stay there this time. You know I have no problem with tying you to the bed.”

You rolled your eyes as he left, and his clenched fists and tightened shoulders told you all you needed to know.

————————————————-

Comet watched from his spot beside you as Tommy wrestled with the fire. He had noticed you shivering despite your high temperature, and bundled you up in blankets whilst sparking matches beside the fireplace. There were raindrops across his shoulders, evidence that he had been outside and to the log store right at the end of the property - a job that had always been for the Groundskeeper. Your precious cat nudged the tips of your fingers as you sighed and watched your husband throw kindling onto the coal, a deep unease settling over your gut.

“Tommy, my love, I’m fine.” It wasn’t exactly true but you felt he needed to hear it. But you could practically see your words wash over him and evaporate like ocean spray.

He was shaking a metal tin in his palm as he worked, and you groaned and let your head hit the pillow as he pulled out two round chalky tablets. You winced as he placed them beside your glass, your mouth already tasting like the sour talc medicine you had come to loathe. He raised his eyebrows and shot you a look that told you he wasn’t far off plugging your nose with his fingers to force you to swallow, and you childishly stuck up two fingers as you took them.

Your stomach rumbled with nausea and you bit back the bile in your throat as you settled into the pillows. You watched your husband as he pulled off his crisp white shirt, revealing his taut tan stomach and the deep ink tattoos that you loved to trace with your fingertips and your lips. There was something about him standing there, with those damn cerulean eyes and hidden muscles, that boyish hair and slender fingers that you wanted desperately around your throat, that made a million tiny fireworks spark inside of you.

But instead you pushed him away from you despite your body wanting nothing but him wrapped all around you. “Don’t get too close. I might have something contagious. I can’t have you getting sick.”

He ignored you, smiling inwardly at the way you always put others before yourself. It was one of the million reasons he had fallen for you. You were sweating out a high fever and shivering in pain, and yet you always thought of him first. He pressed his lips to your temple and pulled you closer, knowing that skin to skin was a way to bring down a fever - even if it meant he had to restrain himself from tugging off your pretty little white nightgown and whatever frilly things you had on underneath.

“I’m not going anywhere. Fuck it if I catch anything.”

“That’s easy for you to say. I’m the one who will have to dote on you hand and foot, you big baby.” You teased, pressing yourself into him playfully, finally giving in.

He held you like a child, trying to hard to soften despite the way you felt underneath him. Everything on him was running a mile a minute, and he couldn’t help but want to try everything and everything to make you feel better. His hand was pressed against your temple to always try and measure your fever, his other palm across your chest to try and count your heart rate.

He could hear Mary treading across the landing carpet but he ignored his anxious maid, instead letting himself be completely consumed by the only thing that mattered - you.

This was something he had to do by himself. He was the only one who could care for you he reminded himself. And he let the words tumble over and over in his skull until they were all he could hear.

—————————————————————-

You had been asleep for a long time.

Every hour, after pacing the length of the hall and sanitising his hands and wiping the beads of sweat above your brow and above your breasts he woke you up and held a cool glass to your lips. You mumbled and moaned and pushed him away but he kept his fingers across your wrist - harsher than he ever had before - and kept you as close to him as possible.

He couldn’t remember the last time he had cooked. Perhaps it was last valentines when the two of you had camped out under the stars, drinking icy white wine and sharing stolen, day drunk kisses. That night he had roasted a chicken over the fire and it had burnt to a crisp as the two of you rolled around the grass, his head buried in your neck as you giggled at the poultry going up in flames.

He was trying now though, easy, plain substantial meals that wouldn’t upset your stomach. Boiled egg and dippy soldiers. Crackers with smooth cheese. Bubbly water and ginger biscuits. Each time he went upstairs you pushed him away, your whole body shuddering and almost retching, and he felt like smashing the plates against the wall at his defeat.

It had been almost thirty six hours since he had come home and it had been almost as long since you had eaten something, and his heart thundered and shattered in his chest when he found you gasping and wheezing over the toilet bowl when you had taken a bite of toast to calm him. He rarely left you alone, only for a few minutes to put the still full dishes in the sink, to ring Lizzie and tell her that he wouldn’t be coming for reasons that he refused to disclose, to smoke a cigarette under the grey stone archway, his shaking hands and bitten fingernails barely visible through the sleepy rolling fog.

He had grabbed handfuls of papers and the brass ink pen you had got him for your anniversary and broke his own rule - bringing work into your bedroom. It had always been a sacred space. For candlelight and soft laughter, aching hands and heart shaped bruises, a sanctuary for him to breathe and to love and to be loved fully in return. But he was afraid if he didn’t have a distraction, he might just completely lose it, and he had to be there for you.

So he sat squinting in his glasses, the room almost completely dark save for a few candles because of the migraines that had started to spread throughout your skull, and let himself be drawn into the mess of squiggly lines and numbers that suddenly didn’t add up, with you still centre stage in his peripheral.

After about forty minutes of rereading the same sentence a dozen times to try and make some sense of it, he heard your voice, like a small crack spreading across a sheet of ice, coming from the bed.

“Tom?” You sounded so weak, he practically flipped your cream vanity as he got to his feet and darted towards you. “I don’t feel well.”

He lifted you as you reached your arms up at him like a child. He almost gasped at the sweat pouring from your body but didn’t want to scare you, and instead held your shaking, shivering body against his own. How could you be so hot, yet so cold at the same time? Your skin was prickled with goosebumps yet you were burning with a fever, and for the first time in a long time, he had no fucking idea what to do.

He left you propped up against the headboard and he entered the bathroom. He ran over to the claw foot tub you loved, twisting the faucet and trying to find the perfect medium between boiling hot and freezing cold. He didn’t want to overwhelm you, just try and soothe your raging fever, and he ignored the shelves of expensive bath oils and scented soaps that you coveted, instead opting for a handful of something meant to ease tension - praying to whoever was listening that it would help you somehow.

There was a brutal, awful moment as he lifted you from the bed, limp as a rag doll, where he imagined what would happen if your heart were to stop. He couldn’t comprehend what it would be like to miss the weight of you in his arms, the smell of your skin, the feeling of your lips against him, the shovels stopping and fading into nothing. It hit him square in the chest, as merciless as a bullet, and he had to lean against the doorframe to stop the two of you from plummeting to the ground.

He undressed himself first. Tugging his white shirt off, sliding off his slacks and his underwear, keeping you as close to his chest as he could. Then he pulled your nightgown up and over your head. He gathered your hair and secured it up with a claw clip so that it was away from your face, the heat radiating off your neck as fierce as the fire now burnt down to ash in the bedroom.

He lowered the two of you into the bath, sinking down beneath the eucalyptus smelling lukewarm water, letting it wash over you both. Your teeth were chattering and you were barely awake. He gathered handfuls of water, letting it drip over your shoulders and pulse points, grabbing a washcloth and running it over your raised skin, hating how you barely registered his touch. As he scrubbed over your collarbones and up to your face he saw your lips had turned to an awful, silvery blue, as vibrant as a fresh bruise. He hissed and tugged on the plug, now determined to get you wrapped up in a fresh towel and tucked back into bed.

You were soft and placid and he helped you out, lacking the usual fire that he adored. Your eyes were glassy and missing their vibrance, like the vanishing spark of a lighter - and he felt miles and miles of invisible distance between the two of you. You were unsteady on your feet and he used his body to prop you up as he warmed your arms with a fluffy white towel. You suddenly stopped, lifting your hand to your mouth as you started to cough - a horrible, dry, gasping cough.

He noticed it almost immediately. His eyes darting to the splatter of red against the white, a smudge of crimson that was as loud and commanding as a siren, a warning signal that something was definitely not right. A bead of scarlet that would linger long behind his closed eyelids.

He managed to get you back into bed, remaining calm as he stroked your hair and kissed your temple. He tucked you under the duvet and waited for your breathing to even before he ran downstairs, his heart thumping in his ears as he practically ripped the phone off of the wall.

“Pol? Fuck. I think - I think I need help.”

—————————————————————-

The room smelt like bleach and metal. Unfamiliar and clinical. There was something hard on your chest and covering your mouth, it tasted like wet pennies and was as heavy as a hand over your throat, but for the first time in days you could finally breathe. You tried to sit up, but there was a needle in your chest, a gown you didn’t recognise cut straight down the middle to accommodate it. You struggled and lifted the thin bedsheet above your shivering torso, trying to look around the cold room.

“Careful!”

It was Polly, dressed immaculately despite her surroundings. She reached out and placed a manicured hand across yours, and you smiled at the woman who had always been a calming influence when you had joined the circus of a family. There was concern in her eyes, rimmed with black eyeliner and lifted lashes but still swimming deep around her pupils. That made you frown, and you moved as much as you could to face her.

“What happened?”

She ran her tongue over her teeth, choosing her words. “You gave us quite a fright, love.”

“I did?” Your memories of the past few days were much like a fever dream, blurry and distorted snapshots were all you could really remember.

“Your pneumonia got worse. A lot worse.” She paused, looking over to the door and you followed her gaze. “They found fluid in your lungs.”

“So...” You started, gesturing to the needle in your abdomen and the breathing apparatus around your head.

She nodded. “Yes. You were in surgery. It was touch and go for a little bit.”

“Really?” You were bewildered. You couldn’t remember anything, let alone having major surgery. You looked her straight in the eye, asking her the questions that had been on the tip of your tongue since you had woken up. “Where is he? Where’s Tommy?”

“He’s outside.” She clicked her tongue, reaching deep into her purse and pulling out some hand cream, gently rubbing your dry hands like she was your mother. You leant into her touch despite all of your questions.

“What? Why?”

“I think he blames himself. God knows what goes on in that mans head. All I really know is he was bloody terrified.” She paused, looking over in the distance. “I’ve never seen him so scared, not even on his wedding day.” She smiled sadly, trying to lighten the mood, but it soon faded. “He didn’t leave your side the whole time you were asleep.”

Your heart thumped in your chest, a soft aching that you knew all too well. “I want to see him.”

“I know you do. But right now...” She stopped right as a handful of nurses entered, clad in long blue dresses with white aprons, hair tied back and smelling of strong soap and disinfectant. You lost Polly in the bustle as one spoke softly to you before tugging on the needle right beside your ribs, your eyes just catching hers as she left, a promise to see you soon on her lips.

It wasn’t her you saw next, but Tommy.

The nurses had cleaned you up with wet flannels and bowls of warm soapy water. Your hair had been braided and your face washed, and walked you arm in arm over to the bathroom so you could relieve yourself. A skittish doctor followed after, his eyes darting across you and his touch gentle as he changed your dressings and took your blood - obviously under strict instructions from your husband, and despite everything, you smiled.

You were sat listening to the clock tick. A romance novel you had been given was dangling dangerously close to the end of the bed, but you were too tired to focus on it. You heard the door squeal softly, and the sound of familiar footsteps across the tiling, each small thud sending shockwaves across your spine.

“Tommy.”

He looked tired. Exhausted rather, as though he had been awake all the hours that you had been asleep. His eyes were bloodshot and his skin was sallow and bruised. His clean shaven face was dark with stubble and his hair was ruffled and unwashed. You longed to reach out to him and cradle him against you, but he stood in the doorway, lingering like a ghost.

“Tommy?” You repeated, your voice almost a whisper, breaking his already shattered heart once again.

“How are you feeling, my love?”

You smiled softly, like spun sugar and sweet honey. No hospital bed or itchy gown could dull your infectious light. “Better now.”

He approached you almost cautiously. He settled down on the hard chair beside your bed and stroked a line down from your temple to your lips, his touch setting you alight like an electrical storm. There was a sadness in his eyes that reminded you of how he got when things were bad, and you willed him to come back to you. His touch was tentative and he inhaled shakily as you cupped his hand with yours, pressing a tender kiss to the inside of his palm.

“Don’t scare me like that. Ever.” He was stern, as though hoping his words would make it true. “I mean it.” He kept his gaze on your pretty face, trying his best not to stare at the harsh bruising on your delicate flesh or the sickly tone of your skin.

“Tommy I’m going to get sick, even you can’t stop that.” You teased gently.

“I can bloody well try.” His hands cradled your face, pulling you into him and kissing you fiercely, still mindful of the wires and tubes taped to your body. There was something about the tenderness and deep longing in the kiss that when mixed with your total exhaustion and love for your husband prompted tears to start falling from your eyes. You sniffled as he pulled away, concern dripping from his beautiful features, his powerful mind wanting to do everything and anything to stop your hurting.

“Hey, hey.” He said, running his calloused fingertips under your eyes and wiping your tears away. You leant into his touch and he kissed your temple, squeezing you even tighter into him. “You know I hate it when you cry.” He toyed with your hair and winked playfully. “Besides, all you need to focus on is getting better. You’re going to have to take care of me when we get home, this week has given me a fucking stroke.”

You rolled your eyes, kissing the inside of his wrist. “You’re a idiot, Thomas Shelby.” You blinked at the clock looming above you both, wanting to stay in your blissful bubble but also knowing that Aunt Pol would probably be in the vicinity harassing a poor nurse over your results. “You should go and find Polly, let her know that everything’s alright.”

He shook his head and nuzzled his nose across yours, an act so innocent that your heart dipped and swooped in your chest. “Later.” He said, breathless and consumed by you. Everything had been too much. Almost losing you had been harrowing, it had punctured him completely and he just needed to feel his girl safe and warm around him. He needed to know that you weren’t found anywhere.

“I just want to stay here for a while. Just me and you.”

You grinned. “Always.”

[gukyi]

the heiress and the hotelier | ksj

summary: when you share a kiss with a mysterious but gorgeous stranger on the night of your unwanted, lavish masquerade birthday party, the last thing you expect is for him to vanish at midnight on the dot. but when, as punishment for always arguing with him, your father assigns you to oversee the company’s newest resort hotel, you begin to realize that the handsome stranger may be closer than you think.

{cinderella!au, heiress reader!au, hotelier seokjin!au}

pairing: kim seokjin x female reader genre: fluff, comedy word count: 21k warnings: alcohol consumption (nothing major), workaholic characters, face blindness, idiots to lovers a/n: hello and welcome to guyi is a nonstop writer!! that’s the fuck right !!!! thank you so much to @aurawatercolor​ for commissioning me for this (again!) and for being genuinely wonderful. happy birthday! oh--and i’ll be on a socially-distanced vacation this upcoming week, so i’ll be a little more inactive than usual, but here’s this fic to keep you occupied while i’m gone!

Your birthdays have never belonged to you.

Not when you were little, when your mother was always the most excited for you to open your presents and host your birthday party. Not when you were older, and your parents started using your age as a reason for you to start learning the inner workings of the family business under the understanding that you would one day inherit it. And certainly not when you’re an adult, when all your birthdays ever remind you of are the years gone by, blowing past you like dandelion wisps, glimpses of memories that are too nimble to catch between your fingertips. 

When people say that time goes by faster as you get older, they aren’t saying it because your life is getting exponentially more interesting with each day that passes. They aren’t saying it because you’re having more fun or doing more things, things that distract you to the point of looking out your window and realizing that it’s dark outside. 

They say it because the more years that you have lived, the more years you have to remember. And when you have to recall something as overwhelming as your life, your brain makes shortcuts. The days, weeks, and months blur together, leaving behind snippets from events that your memory deems worthy, events that have become less and less frequent with time. You can’t remember the last major celebration you had. Perhaps your university graduation?

The thing about birthdays is that you know that there will always be one next year. So why bother with celebrating now?

You would give anything to have everyone pretend that your birthday is just a normal day. 

Unfortunately for you, you are the only one in your family who seems to have adopted this mindset. 

Heaving out a sigh, you look at yourself in the mirror, reflection bathed in the white light of the bathroom, stark and unforgiving. In the merciless glow of the bathroom, you barely recognize yourself. Gone are the deep eye bags that you’ve so dearly acquainted yourself with, tired eyes covered with contacts to bring back the shimmer that has long been lost. You gaze into your eyes and they don’t even feel like they’re yours anymore. 

In your hand sits the masquerade mask you had ripped off the moment you entered the bathroom, having been desperate to take it off from the minute you arrived at the hotel. The feathers brush against your skin, soft and black, a custom-made accessory designed to match your gown, an ink black floor-length piece with onyx gems that sparkle silver in the light. 

Hoseok was going for a black swan theme—said that it would match your personality perfectly. You’re not exactly sure what he meant by that. 

Frantically, like there is a timer ticking down inside of you that you cannot turn off, you pull the mask back on, adjusting it over your eyes until it sits just right, resting atop the bridge of your nose. Hiding behind it, you can almost deceive yourself into thinking, if only for this one night, you are someone else. 

The door swings open next to you, revealing a guest that you don’t recognize, someone on the list of hundreds that your mother invited, none of whom you know very well and could certainly not identify beneath a masquerade mask. She smiles in that polite, awkward way as she rushes into a stall, deep maroon train trailing behind her, leaving you stuck between a rock and a hard place, having no desire to go back out into the fray but also not wanting to stay in the bathroom and listen to other people do their business. 

Thank God she didn’t recognize you. Your mother was insistent that you be recognized as the guest of honor despite the whole point of a masquerade party being the inability to correctly identify people, so you might as well be walking around in a t-shirt with your face on it. At least the mask is doing something. 

You blink at yourself, hoping that maybe if you close your eyes enough, when you open them you’ll be someone else. When that doesn’t seem to work, you take a breath and fix your mask one last time before heading back into the ballroom. 

Immediately, amongst the crowd of people, all of whom are only here to elevate their own statuses by being associated with an event hosted by your family, you spot the back of Jungkook’s head, deep brunette tufts of hair deftly styled by a whole team of people, a slicked back, Phantom of the Opera style. He’s got on a tuxedo and mask to match, but even with that on you could recognize him in your sleep. He is your brother, after all. 

He’s talking animatedly with the pianist, an old mutual friend of your family’s named Yoongi, who isn’t wearing a mask and is thus immediately identifiable. Not to mention the fact that your family has known his since before you learned to walk. As you get closer to them, you notice that his maskless-ness is because Jungkook’s got it snatched up in between his fingers, dangling it in front of Yoongi like the taunting claw of a rigged toy machine. You decide not to bother them. He’s always been closer with Jungkook, anyway.

You really wish your mother better understood what a masquerade-themed party meant. You can’t get more than three steps in before being stopped by someone you can hardly recognize, all smiles for the birthday girl. They wish you a happy birthday and give you a lifeless compliment that goes in one ear and out the other before going on their way, positively thrilled that they’ve been invited to an event as grand as this and determined to make the most of it. 

Eventually, after far too many interruptions, you make it to the catering table, helping yourself to a piece of the five-tiered, golden-iced cake your parents had ordered. At least they got your favorite flavor right—chocolate and vanilla swirl. You wait happily beside the rest of the catered food as you eat, hoping that you are just out of reach enough to go unnoticed. The least your birthday party guests could do is leave you alone. 

“Y/N!”

Never mind. 

You look up to the source of the sound and find only your father approaching, all dressed up in a crisp suit from the same tailors that made Jungkook’s. He isn’t wearing a mask and apparently doesn’t need one, since it is your birthday and not his. Not a good enough excuse, in your opinion. 

“Dad,” you say with a smile, wiping away the icing you feel sitting just off the corner of your lips. 

“Enjoying yourself?” He asks heartily, all smiles because he’s always felt rather at home surrounded by this sort of grandeur, almost as much as your mother. No wonder the two of them get along so well. 

“The cake is nice,” you dodge the question. 

“Ah, glad you like it,” he says, helping himself to his own piece. “We were going to get red velvet but then Jungkook reminded us your favorite flavor was the swirly one,” he laughs to himself, like it’s funny that they almost got it wrong. “Had to call the bakery last minute and change it.”

You purse your lips together in a tense smile, fork picking at the crumbs left on your plate. 

“Have you been chatting with your friends?” He asks. 

“Here and there,” you respond. Nobody here, except perhaps Jungkook and Yoongi, would be people you considered friends. Acquaintances at best. And besides, it’s not like you can even identify half of the attendees anyway. “You?” You always do much better when the topic of conversation is not your social life. 

“Ah, yes, of course, you know me,” he jokes, always the aristocrat. “I was just speaking with Mr. Oh about that corporate investment deal that I had been arranging with him.”

“Dad,” you say, exasperated, “You know that I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Y/N,” he says, already beginning to get frustrated. You and him have shared this conversation countless times already. “You aren’t the final decision maker. You know that.”

“Yes, but you value my input, don’t you?” You challenge. He nods tensely. “So listen to me. I don’t think this deal will be good for us. Even though the Oh’s have more money in their investments, they aren’t transparent with it. If you make this deal you won’t know where our money is going.”

“Nonsense,” your father rebukes. “Mr. Oh and I have known each other for years. I trust him. You’re just saying this because you don’t like their son.”

“Sehun has nothing to do with this,” you argue, even if it is true. Your mother had set you up on a blind date with him a couple of years ago and from the moment he walked through the door, you knew it would go south. He’s got the same conceited attitude his father has. “I don’t think it’s a wise business decision.”

“You mustn’t let personal grievances get in the way of your work and you know that,” your father commands sternly, eyebrows furrowed as he looks at you. “What will you do when you are the CEO of Jeon Group? Are you going to let pettiness get in the way of major advancements for the company?”

“No!” You insist, though you are far too gone for your father to believe you. 

“This deal is happening and that’s final, Y/N,” your father declares harshly, eyes narrowed at you. 

“But, Dad—”

“I don’t want to hear another word from you about this,” he directs. “You should know better than to argue with me about this sort of thing. Especially here. Your mother worked very hard on putting this party on for you, and you should be grateful.”

You exhale, incensed. “I am, Dad, but the business means more to me than—”

“Stop. You can’t change my mind.” Your father sets his finished plate down on a cart an arm’s length away, piled high with discarded dishes, glasses and utensils. “Go talk with your friends instead.” You frown at him, nose scrunched up in contempt. He gestures you away from him. “Go.”

Sighing, you wipe away the sweat that has gathered along your temples and go back out into the center of the ballroom, watching begrudgingly as your father steers you from him, having deemed your conversation over even if you weren’t finished talking. It’s obvious that there’s no more getting through to him. Unless all of the Ohs are suddenly arrested for embezzling funds or mail fraud, that deal is happening.

Standing in the middle of the room, you turn around once and you’re immediately lost amongst all of the guests, surrounded by people everywhere you look. You turn back to where your father was standing but he’s vanished, and when you turn the other way, Jungkook has disappeared from beside the grand piano as well. It feels like you’re outnumbered, like you’re trapped in a maze of people with no end in sight, like one wrong move and suddenly they will all turn to look at you, stare you down like camera lenses, relentless flashes of light. Nobody to talk to, nowhere to run. 

You’re stuck. 

Now that you think about it, you sort of always have been. 

The room gets blurrier.

“Hey, are you alright?” A voice asks. 

You feel like you spin around several times before your eyes focus in on the man it belongs to. 

“Here, come on, let’s get out of here.”

Your feet move against your mind’s better judgement, the man ushering you away from the center of the room and out of the crowd. You barely notice the direction he’s taking you in until you feel the cool late night air blow past you, tickling your skin and sending shivers down your spine. 

It’s the balcony.

The glass door shuts behind the two of you, sending a stream of wind against your back as it effectively removes all of the background noise of the party, containing it within the ballroom, leaving the both of you shrouded in the stars’ silence. 

Out here, you have a perfect view of the city. Even though it’s nearing midnight, the lights are still on, coating the town in a twinkling glow, yellow lights flickering on and off, as if someone were looking at the universe from far beyond it. Some parts of the city go to sleep when the sun sets. Others are just waking up. 

Next to you, the man removes his suit jacket and drops it ceremoniously on the floor at his feet, arms resting on the balcony’s railing as he gazes out into the distance. As you look out into the same deep navy sky, it’s almost as if the rest of the night has faded away. You don’t know who he is and you can only hope that he doesn’t know you either, hope that he has rescued you from the crowd to talk you down rather than talk you up. But you don’t miss the way he hasn’t said a word to you since you stepped foot outside, hasn’t dared to initiate contact just in case you were looking for a respite from all of it. 

At this angle, you can turn your head just enough to get a good look at him, at the way half of his face is enveloped in shadow while the other half is letting the moonlight do all of the talking. From here, the light from the full moon is faint, a barely-there silver glow, but it casts him in just enough light to make him seem as though he belongs in a dream. Like he isn’t even real. It highlights the sharpness of his jaw, the peaks of his cheekbones, his round button nose. But what it really makes gleam are his eyes, almost pitch black in the night. They reflect the sky like nothing else, glimmers of faint starlight in an ocean of ink.

Quite frankly, you wouldn’t mind staying like this for the rest of the night. 

“Thank you.” You breathe out the words and immediately feel his gaze jerk sharply towards you. “For getting me out of there.”

“Of course,” he says, and oh, goodness, his voice is thick and warm and comforting, like a fireplace on a cool night, like a blanket after a nightmare. “You just seemed like you needed a break.”

“You could say that,” you say, shrugging to yourself. You could use more than a break. A general pause on life is something you certainly wouldn’t object to—if only it was that easy. But hey, you take what is given to you and never miss an opportunity if you can help it. There’s a lot that you can (and do) complain about but even more than you should be grateful for. Your father was right. This party took a lot of planning on your mother’s part and you spent half of it in the bathroom wishing you were anywhere but here.

“A lot on your plate?” He asks with a smile, a real one, one that isn’t forced like everybody else. Almost like he’s smiling because he’s actually enjoying himself. 

“I feel like it’s endless,” you say, keeping it vague because, as it stands, this gorgeous man does not know who you are, and you would like to keep it that way.

“As is all of life,” he says sagely, almost as if it’s a reminder to himself as well. You wonder what he must have on his mind. You wonder if it’s worth sharing your life with a stranger. “It looked like you had a lot on your mind back in there.” He gestures weakly back towards the door. 

“I have a lot on my mind no matter where I am,” you correct, and you try to make it sound funny but instead it just comes out sounding sad. Normally you wouldn’t be cracking jokes at your expense in front of someone whose name you don’t even know, but you had a couple of drinks tonight and the taste is still fresh on your tongue, sitting alongside all of the words you want to say but don’t know how to. 

The man leaves it at that, not wanting to push any further, but you aren’t finished yet. Someone might as well know how you feel, since you bottle it up around everyone else. 

“Do you ever wish that you could just… I don’t know. Disappear?” You turn to look at him, heaving out a sigh. He doesn’t say anything, simply gazes back at you, like he’s willing you to carry on. It, in a way, worries you. “Ugh. I feel ridiculous saying it out loud.”

There’s a tense, pregnant pause between the two of you. It makes you feel like talking was a mistake. 

“It’s not ridiculous.” It almost sounds like the words are coming from someone else. Like this whole thing is just a figment of your imagination, created by your mind to keep you company because there’s no one else to turn to. 

He’s staring out over the balcony now, waiting for you to continue. 

“I don’t know,” you say, feeling utterly idiotic, like a fish out of water. “Sometimes I just wish that I could go somewhere else and be someone else and not have to worry about all of the things in my life. Things like my family, and my work. There are so many things that people expect of me. All the time. It feels like I’m living for them instead of myself.”

He nods along, holding back to see if you have anything else to say. You must sound like such an ungrateful little rich girl, you think to yourself. Complaining about this fabulous party and incredible life that you live, a life filled with wealth and grandeur and power, a life that most people dream of having. What will he think of you?

“I’m sorry,” you blurt out before you can stop yourself. “I probably sound like such a spoiled brat.”

“You don’t,” he immediately assures you, taking a step to his right and closing the gap between you two. “It doesn’t sound like that at all.”

“Then what does it sound like?” You muse to yourself, forcing a laugh. 

“It sounds like you have a lot that you feel like you owe to other people,” he says organically. “You know, like you feel like you have to do all of these things because you can’t let other people down. I get it. I know that everyone nowadays is all, ‘You shouldn’t give a shit about what other people think of you, just do whatever you want,’ but it’s hard not to think about what other people think of you. And what other people expect from you. Letting them down sucks.”

You chuckle. Sounds about right. You may not be completely satisfied with your life right now but that doesn’t mean you’re going to fling your responsibilities onto the shoulders’ of other people. Your father works hard, your mother works hard, your brother works hard. The least you could do for them is offer up the same diligence.

“You’re quite the smooth talker,” you joke, looking him up and down and nodding your approval. He’s definitely figured you out, at least. 

“I’m just a people person,” the man admits. “I like talking with people.”

“And here I was, thinking that I’d be confessing my secrets to a brick wall,” you say, making him crack a smile, another real one. You like the look of them. A part of you wants to do it more often. 

“Secrets, huh?” He asks, sliding another inch closer, daringly so, teetering on the edge of territory that you haven’t touched in years. “I like the sound of that. Got any more for me?”

You smirk up at him, a grin playing on your lips. “Only if you have one for me in return. No freebies.”

He laughs, loud and clear, the sound ringing out in the nighttime air. “Alright,” he says, obliging. He leans in close, lips hovering above your ear. “I think you’re gorgeous.”

You’ve been listening to compliments all night but this one makes the heat rush to your cheeks like nothing else, a fire set alight in your veins. 

“That’s a secret, is it?” You ask, suddenly feeling shy, looking all around you just so you don’t have to look him in his eyes and feel your legs turn to jelly. 

“Not anymore,” he reminds you. “What about you? Anything else to share with me?” He’s standing dangerously close to you now, barely half a foot of space between your bodies as he leans into you, hands hovering above your waist. 

Slowly he begins to tilt his head towards you, and while you’ve never been one for dramatics, you have to admit that you haven’t felt this way since your schoolgirl crush days back when you were a teenager, giddy and electric and desperately craving more. 

You watch as his lips flutter above yours, feel transparent underneath his steel gaze, and you say, “I think you’re gorgeous, too.”

The fireworks thing had always been over the top for you. Like it was impossible for a kiss to feel that explosive to anyone, setting you alight over and over and over again. But his lips pressed against yours come pretty damn close. It makes your whole body go weak, like you can barely hold yourself up, hands clutching onto his sleeves just to make sure you don’t go topping off the balcony. He kisses you and you swear that you would never do this sort of thing normally—go about your romantic interests like a professional, a couple of dates and then perhaps a kiss on your doorstep—but goddamn, it feels like you might just give up everything for him. It feels like there are sparks running all across your skin, sending jolts of life into your heart. It feels like he is someone you are going to miss.

It lasts too long and ends too quickly all at once. You distantly hear the party celebrate the clock striking twelve indoors, cheers and screams and shouts as people rally themselves to continue long after the mark of a new day, and feel him pull away from you at the very same instant. Shamelessly, you instinctively reach up to try and meet his lips again, refusing to believe it’s over, but already he’s separating himself from you. 

“Hey, what’s wrong—?”

“Oh, nothing, nothing, I promise,” the man says, the words barely registering in your kiss-drunk haze. He scoops up his jacket from the floor and immediately begins to head back inside. “I just have to go, really. It’s nothing.”

You freeze, mouth agape. “Wait, I don’t even know your—”

“It was really nice meeting you, I hope that we can see each other again!” He pulls open the door with one final grin, one beautiful, brilliant smile, and then suddenly, he’s gone. 

You feel the rush of wind blow against your skin, holding you hostage on the balcony as you stare at the closed door, almost like he had never been here at all. 

It wasn’t a dream. It couldn’t have been. He was real, and he was here, and then he was right in front of you, his hands were on your waist, his lips were on your lips. And still, it’s almost as if it never even happened. 

You blink back at the door, trying to convince yourself that you are still awake, that you haven’t gone mad with loneliness, when you feel yourself step on something. 

It’s his mask. A plain, black one with a couple of decorative touches. The string meant to secure it to his face is broken, having probably snapped in half in his rush to leave, leaving it as the only reminder that you didn’t dream up the entire ordeal to begin with. 

You reach down to pick it up, letting it rest between your fingertips, and you laugh. Here you are, having fallen for a man whose name you don’t know and whom you don’t think you’ll ever see again, the only piece left you have of him being a broken, forgotten masquerade mask. Like the worst rendition of Cinderella ever. 

Leaning back over the balcony, you sigh, resigning yourself to the fact that even if tonight was more eventful than you thought it would be, you will have to get up tomorrow morning and go to work, just the same. 

And you suppose that that really is what the man was talking about when he said life was endless. 

It’s not that it has no end. It’s just that it doesn’t really feel like you’re ever beginning something new. 

You wake up in a cold sweat and are convinced you dreamt of the whole thing until you see the mask sitting on your chest of drawers, grounding you back to reality. 

You wonder what it is about him, about last night, that so easily deceives you into thinking it never happened. Perhaps it was the time, or the alcohol on your tongue, or how storybook the whole thing felt, from the talking to the kissing to the disappearing into the night. Or perhaps it was the fact that you can’t remember the last time someone made you feel the way that he made you feel, can’t remember the last time someone kissed you like he did. Like your brain was convinced it would just never happen. 

At least you know that there’s still a little hope for you.

A part of you almost thinks that, for the rest of time, you won’t be able to think of anything but the mystery man and his excellent kissing skills. Even the morning after, the tingling feeling on your lips still lingers like lint on a blazer, like a scar that won’t fade. It feels like it won’t ever go away, dancing along your lips every time you look in a mirror. You hardly remember anything else about that night besides him, besides talking to him, besides his lips on yours. 

You continue to live in this post-kiss bliss for another ten minutes as you help yourself to breakfast and hum a mindless tune. Then your phone lights up. 

“Hey, Dad!” You say cheerfully, practically bouncing on your feet. 

“Y/N,” he says gruffly. “You haven’t left for work yet, have you?”

“Nope,” you say, stuffing a spoonful of Honey Nut Cheerios into your mouth. “Why? Do you need me to bring something?”

“Actually, Y/N, you won’t be coming to the office today.” His tone is stern and sharp, no-nonsense. The same way he speaks to interns who have fucked up. 

Oh, no. 

“What do you mean?” You ask, trying to keep your tone positive even though you already know you’re toast. 

“I’m assigning you to watch over the new resort hotel at the edge of the city.” Your father has never been known to beat around the bush. 

“What?” You gasp out, shocked. “Dad, you know that I—”

“You wanted more independence and more input in decision-making, didn’t you?” He says pointedly, a reminder of last night.

“Yes, but I—”

“Good,” he declares. “This resort is going to be your responsibility and I want to see that you are doing well with the tasks at hand.”

“Dad, that sounds good, but you know I much prefer more corporate responsibilities—”

“And at this resort, you will have that,” he informs you. “It’s high time you take on your own tasks instead of doing the ones that I hand down to you. I expect to see this resort flourish.” You don’t understand his logic. Isn’t he literally handing you an entire resort to oversee? A brand new one, too?

“But wouldn’t you rather manage such a new hotel? What if it starts to encounter deficits?” You plead, a final attempt to get him to take your name off of this project so you can go back to doing what you’re used to instead of being flung a brand new resort you definitely aren’t keen on overseeing. 

“Then I should hope to see you solve them quickly,” he clips, effectively dissolving any hope you had that he would change his mind. Normally, you love your father’s typical hands-off approach when it comes to business, usually because it allows you to gain working experience without him carrying you every step of the way, but right now, you just wish he was more of a selfish businessman. For once, it would actually work out quite well for you. 

“Dad—”

“I’ll be checking in.”

He hangs up. 

Standing in the middle of your kitchen, you huff, nose scrunched up and eyebrows furrow as you try to think your way out of this. Getting through to your father is impossible, getting through to your mother, even more so. She’s always preferred to stick to philanthropy, anyway, having zero interest in what you and your father do. You scowl to yourself, already beginning to run out of options. Is your list really that short? Who else in your family could help?

Suddenly, you smack your head, shocked at how forgetful you’ve been. You grab your phone from where it sits on the counter and dial his number. 

“Y/N?” Jungkook asks from the other end, voice still groggy. At least he gets to sleep in. 

“Hey, Jungkook,” you say, sighing out your hello to sound more casual. 

“What’s up?” He asks in between yawns. 

“Listen, Dad just assigned me to oversee that new resort hotel on the beach just outside of town,” you say economically. You’ve always gotten straight to the point with your brother. It’s the only reason the two of you aren’t constantly at each other’s necks anymore. 

“Really? That’s awesome!” Jungkook says excitedly, voice jumping up half an octave. 

“I mean…” You begin, because it’s really… not.

“This probably means that Dad’s going to retire soon, don’t you think? Since he’s giving you such a big responsibility, right?” Jungkook asks, a suggestion that nearly sends you into a coughing fit at the mere thought of it. Retirement?

“You think so?” You ask, a little terrified. 

“I don’t know,” Jungkook says, and you can hear his nonchalant shrug through the phone. “Maybe. He has been talking a lot recently about what’s going to happen when you take over the company.”

“Don’t you want that same responsibility, though?” Jungkook has never been treated as a business equal the same way you have, despite having the same expensive education as you and being much better with people. You’ve always wondered if that’s bothered him. 

“Not really,” Jungkook tells you, and you can hear the familiar log-in sound of his computer in the background. “I mean, I’ve always known you were going to inherit the company. This sort of thing just makes sense to me.”

You frown to yourself. “You don’t want to be involved with the business at all?”

“No, it’s not like that,” Jungkook says with a sigh, voice still groggy. “I’m happy that I’m getting the work experience and everything. But it’s just never something I’ve seen as part of my future.”

Mostly because it’s always been yours. 

The fact of the matter is that Jungkook, even if he is younger, and a little more rambunctious, and a little bit more impulsive, has always been the better candidate to take over the family business. He excels at task-driven jobs and has charmed the pants off of everyone he’s ever met, from Yoongi to your florist to the nice woman at the customer service counter at your local grocery store. He’s a quick decision-maker and never second-guesses himself. He also has zero problems with his love life and potential partners, something that your parents are desperate for you to figure out. He’s perfect for the position. 

So why are you the heir?

“What, are you just going to livestream video games for a living, then?” You ask snarkily, already knowing that he’s sat at his desk, ready for another match. 

“Probably. I could probably double the family’s fortune, you know,” he says, and he’s right. What he does is equally as profitable as what you do, and he gets bonus points because it’s something that he genuinely enjoys. 

“You better get started then, gamer boy,” you say, hearing his bubbly laugh echo through the phone before you hang up. 

Jungkook would take over the resort hotel management if you asked, and you know it. He’s got the experience and the expertise to do it flawlessly, no questions asked. But he won’t, because you won’t ask that of him. Because even if you don’t want to do it, it is better you than him. Someone in this family deserves to do what they love for a living. And nobody deserves that more than him. 

The Honey Nut Cheerios slosh around in the milk in the bowl in front of you. You aren’t very hungry anymore. 

Your father has always had an eye for design, a trait he never seemed to pass on to you. It’s no wonder why he’s the one the architectures and interior decorators run everything by while you manage the finances. It’s something your mother always says she loves about him. So, even if you are assigned to oversee a resort hotel that you have zero interest in whatsoever, at least it looks nice. 

“Whoa, this place is fancy,” Hoseok says, gasping as the two of you step out of the car beneath the golden awning that covers the hotel entrance. There are little lights lining the structure, something to bathe the canopy in a sparkling glow when the sun says goodbye for the day, light it up like stars in the night sky. 

“You’ve been to my house, this is nothing,” you say with a shrug, making him laugh as the doors open for you, carpet plush and hardly touched. From what you read in the file your father sent you, this place hasn’t been open for more than two weeks. 

It looks like it’s barely been occupied. 

The security guard, a gruff, stout man, nods a hello to you as you enter. 

“Uh, your house doesn’t have security guards,” Hoseok whispers into your ear as you pass him, pointing rather conspicuously to the man behind you. “Your dad really went all out on this one.”

You huff, gritting your teeth. Good thing it’s not an eyesore, otherwise you don’t think you’d last a week here. “Well, he’s always loved the beach.” 

“Why does that not surprise me,” Hoseok lilts, whistling as he gazes away from you, guilty. 

You smack him with the back of your hand in the middle of his torso. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, nothing,” he says, backing off even though he knows he’s the only person (well, besides Jungkook) who can get away with saying that sort of thing in front of you. “You two have always been polar opposites, I’m just saying.”

“Yeah, well, say it in your head,” you sulk, hitting him again so that he straightens up. You both have a duty to make a good first impression, though Hoseok’s red suit is doing half of the work for him. 

As you enter, all of the staff behind the desk scramble to get to their positions, hands together neatly in front of them as you peer over your wire-rimmed glasses to get a good look at the place. It’s clean, elegant, with touches of luxury here and there, a golden coffee table, an accent along the lining of the walls. It smells faintly of lemon and mostly of the ocean, a scent you are going to have to get used to. Everything seems to be in order. 

You stroll up the front desk, eyeing everything closely. Behind it, the three employees currently on front-desk duty wait patiently for you to speak. Their names are written in capital letters on gold-plated tags, pinned to the pockets of their blazers. You nod as you memorize their names. Irene, Seohyun, and Seokjin. 

Seokjin looks positively wide-eyed, flabbergasted to be seeing you, to be standing in front of you. There’s this faint sort of recognition on his face, like he’s just realized something life-altering, and he’s doing a rather poor job of hiding it. Perhaps he’s just starstruck.

“Well, we might as well get the introductions over with,” you declare, clapping your hands together. The sound makes the three of them jump. “If you didn’t know, I’m Y/N, and I’ll be overseeing this hotel for the foreseeable future. So let’s get along well together. For all of our sakes.”

They nod, polite smiles on their faces. 

“Which one of you is the hotelier?” You ask, looking between the three of them. Your father had written it down in that file somewhere but quite frankly, you were so exasperated that you had been assigned the hotel that you hadn’t really looked it over properly. 

“That would be me,” the man, Seokjin, says with a tense, small little grin, nodding his head when you turn to face him. He looks strikingly familiar, this sort of picturesque nostalgia that you can’t quite place, angles sharp in the bright light of the hotel. You wonder where you’ve seen it before. Possibly in some magazine or at an event. He certainly is worthy of being photographed. 

“Excellent,” you declare happily. “Then you’re on my staff, aren’t you?”

“Yes, I just received word about that last night,” he affirms. 

“Wonderful,” you say, fingers tapping against the granite countertops. “I can tell that this will all go smoothly, so long as we all make sure to stay on task. Sounds good?”

“Of course, Miss Jeon,” Seokjin says. 

“Please, call me Y/N. I do hate formalities,” you request. “So, shall we get started? I trust that you all know exactly what you’re doing. But I would like to receive a few updates here and there about the goings-on here. Mostly, I would like all total daily income numbers to be faxed to my office, transcripts of all of the customer service requests, and an updated menu. The pizza is far too cheap and the lobster just as expensive. How’s that for a starting list?”

“Would you like those numbers in an Excel sheet or graphed?” Irene asks, eyebrows raised. 

“Both,” you answer. She and Seohyun get right to work, leaving you feeling confident that this won’t be a complete train wreck. “Seokjin, you are with me.” You gesture for him to come out from behind the desk, and begin to walk around the lobby of the hotel, hoping to put some distance between you two and the other employees. He stays a solid two feet behind you the entire time, taking quick, short steps so he doesn’t dare start to catch up. 

“How can I help, Miss Jeon?” He asks, eyes wide.

You smile, shaking your head. “I told you that Y/N is fine. In any case, since you are the hotelier, I will need a little more from you.” He nods. “First, I need a summary of all expenses and income since you opened, preferably in Excel and formatted cleanly. I’ll also need a list of all of the employees, their respective positions, and their salaries. It would be great if we could begin to eliminate the part-time slots and allow the employees to become full-time so that they receive the same benefits as you and I. I’ll also need information on their schedules.” 

You notice he isn’t writing any of this down, simply bobbing his head as you lift off everything you want and a few things that you’re throwing in just so you don’t have to do them. 

“I assume that you don’t have constant contact with my father, but I don’t mind being the messenger in regards to hotel infrastructure and design. Any and all malfunctions should also be reported to me. It would also be great if we could maybe lose the curtains in the lobby. I think they close up the room. But, your choice.” You narrow your eyes, looking around to see if there’s anything else that needs urgent attention, when you see Hoseok already beginning to hunt through the concessions room, picking up bags of different themed Jelly Belly. “I think that should be enough for now. Update me whenever possible, please.”

“You got it,” Seokjin says, heading back to the desk as quickly as he had walked away from it, concentration washing over his features. It does, at least, bring you comfort that nobody seems particularly incompetent. 

Behind you, you can hear Hoseok muttering a few things at the front desk, most likely having to do with you and your attitude. But you don’t think it’s that big of a deal. You’ve always been work-oriented. It’s always been your biggest focus. Lingering in the lobby, you gaze out the floor-to-ceiling windows, looking out at the entrance, the slick, newly-paved asphalt, the tropical flowers that surround it. You have always preferred a city to a beach, but at least the time might pass quicker here with people who know how to do their jobs.

Perhaps this might not be so bad after all. 

Then, your phone vibrates in your pants pocket. 

“Mom,” you greet, surprised that she’s calling you during work. “Hey, how are you?”

“Wonderful!” She shrieks, always the energizer. “Your father told me all about how he assigned you to oversee that new resort. I’m so proud of you!”

“Thanks,” you respond, lifeless. 

“You know, you have a lot of responsibility now,” she reminds you, as if you had already forgotten how much work goes into supervising something like this. “Directing a hotel and its staff is a big deal. I don’t want you to think that you can just slack off.”

“Mom, I’m not going to slack off,” you explain. “You know I care about this stuff, just like Dad.”

“I know, I know, I’m just making sure. We want to make sure the company is in good hands when your father retires. He doesn’t have too many years left, you know.”

“Well, whenever he’s ready, I’ll be too,” you assure her, a promise you have vowed to uphold, no matter what becomes of you or your social life. 

“Good.” The conversation ends there. Or, more takes a quick pause, which can only mean one thing. Your mother has something else she needs to tell you. “Speaking of seeing you off…”

“Yes—?”

“Your father and I both think it’s high time you start to settle down with someone. You know we don’t want to see you end up all alone,” she begins, the same argument that you’ve had with your parents time and time again. 

“Mom, you know that I’m not really interested in going out and finding people right now.” Or ever. 

“Yes,” she begins, sucking in her breath between her teeth. Oh, goodness, what’s she going to say now? “But luckily, you don’t have to. You’re so busy, we can’t expect you to just drop everything. So we did.”

“You what?”

“Your father and I have set you up on some dates—just a couple!—with some of his associates’ sons,” she explains, but you are already livid. “We just think that you should be taking more time to see—”

“See what?” You demand. “See his friends’ bratty sons tell me how much money they make? See their cars and their clothes and their stupid Italian leather shoes? See them tell me how I work too hard and that I should just stay at home while they go out and change the world? No thank you.” You can’t name a thing in this world less appealing. Except perhaps supervising a resort hotel against your will. But even that’s better, because the men here actually know what they’re doing.

“Honey, you just aren’t giving them the opportunity—”

“Mom, they don’t deserve an opportunity. I don’t need to be dating people right now. At all!” You exclaim. “Like you said, I’m busy. If Dad is going to retire soon then I need to be ready for it. I have other priorities.”

“Your happiness is our priority,” your mother insists, convinced she’s doing you a good deed by setting you up on blind dates with rich men who care more about their watches and Italian leather shoes than they would a woman. 

“Working makes me happy,” you say between gritted teeth. “I’m perfectly happy as I am.”

“Will you please just give them a try, honey? You never know,” she pleads, desperate to get you to agree with something.

“Fine,” you say, caving in just to get her to stop talking about it. “But don’t expect anything out of it.”

“Yay! That’s all I wanted to hear.” You can hear her relief through the phone. 

“Anything else?” You ask, rubbing at your temples, wishing desperately for this day to be over so you can just go home and take a nice, hot bath, and dream about the mystery man in his black masquerade mask. You’re not interested in dating, sure, but for him, you think you'd make an exception. If only you knew who he was. 

“That’s it. Love you, honey, congratulations on the new resort!” She hangs up in that same voice that she started with, bubbly and animated, and the moment you hear the line go dead, you throw your dignity to the dogs and groan to yourself. 

“God almighty,” you mutter angrily, shaking your head as you rest your head in your hands, fingers massaging at your forehead. Another blind date? How could you possibly have agreed to that? The more you think about the more you wish that this part of your life was the dream instead. Fairytales are overrated but quite frankly, you certainly wouldn’t mind if that man from the party waltzed right into your life and swept you off your feet. He certainly had no trouble doing it last night. You wonder what he’s up to, now—

“Miss Jeon?”

You jump at the voice, scaring both you and Seokjin as you turn, a little cry escaping your lips instinctively. “Oh my God, you frightened me. And please, Y/N is fine. Better, actually.”

Seokjin looks like a deer in headlights, terrified to even talk to you, let alone address you by your first name. You appreciate the professionalism but have never been too fond of the whole ‘Miss’ thing. As if you or your parents need any more reminding that you’re single. Your first name feels much more natural. He flounders twice, opening his mouth to say something before shutting it again, as though whatever he says will suddenly enrage you. 

“Do you… need anything, Seokjin?” You ask, prompting him since he doesn’t seem to be taking matters into his own hands. 

The sound of his name from your lips snaps him out of his daze. “Oh! Yes, I do, actually. I just wanted to ask if you wanted me to include personal expenses on the part of the hotelier in the Excel sheet.”

“Personal expenses? Did you receive a credit from my father?” You ask, an eyebrow raised in surprise. 

“Yes, it was mailed to me just last week. I’ve only used it for a couple of items, though—”

“Like what?” You ask, head tilted. 

He blushes red, cheeks rosy like cherries in summer. “The curtains in the lobby.”

You bark out a laugh, amused at how unexpected this whole thing is. The one thing Seokjin spends money on, you instruct him to take down. At the sound of your chortle, Seokjin backs away, like a cat scared of thunder claps. “Of course,” you say, looking up at the sky and exhaling. Fate. “Please include those.” He nods, already making to scurry back to the front desk, but another sentence from your mouth stops him in his tracks. “Oh, and if you think that the curtains look nice, then leave them. I was never good at interior design anyway.”

You crack a smile, hoping that Seokjin will at least recognize that you’re attempting to be funny and grin, validating you and your lacking sense of humor. He doesn’t, but he does nod once more, and you at least feel like the ice between you is beginning to crack. 

Seokjin rushes back towards the front desk, taking on the enormous list of tasks you’ve assigned him without so much blinking an eye. You watch as his eyebrows furrow in concentration, knitting themselves together above the scrunch of his nose, as his eyes zero in on his computer screen. It’s obvious that he knows exactly what he’s doing and has no issues regarding his work whatsoever. Good thing he’s the hotelier. 

From here, you can use supervision as a cover for the way that you are blatantly ogling him, his figure and his face, finding yourself rather impressed at the sight in front of you. Here, in this lavish, modern hotel, he looks like a prince rather than a manager, clean button-down shirt and fitted slacks, tailored to fit his short torso and long legs. His hair hangs in front of his face in strands, the same sort of hairstyle that the attractive male love interests get, messy and tousled but still fresh. It looks good on him. He certainly wears it well. 

You don’t think being here will be too bad, so long as you have him. 

“Hey.” You feel Hoseok wrap his arm around you, joining you as you stand by the windows. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” you promise. “I am.”

Hoseok motions back towards them, where they work diligently behind the front desk as they wait for the next guests to arrive. Seokjin, thinking you aren’t looking, steps back from his computer for just a moment to take some breaths, catch some air. He stretches, arms above his head as his shirt is pulled out from where it’s tucked into his pants. Even from here, you can see the toned lines of his torso, his healthy, slim figure. 

Something about him is so familiar. Maybe you met him in a past life. 

“I think you’ll be fine, Y/N,” he promises, bright white smile gazing back at you, happy as always. “You don’t have anything to worry about. They all look like they know what they’re doing. Especially that Seokjin guy.”

Being here wasn’t your first choice. It wasn’t even your second. But you have people that you can’t let down, and responsibilities to uphold. Besides, you don’t think it’ll be that bad. At least, not with someone like Seokjin around. Perhaps there is always a silver lining. 

“Yeah,” you repeat again, exhaling. Hoseok turns to look at you, fondness lacing his features, and you smile to yourself. “I know.”

Very seldom are you shouted at by people that your family has employed. The fear of being fired due to disagreeing with your boss is enough to keep many people quiet. Submissive, even. 

But not Hoseok. 

“What is with these eye bags, Y/N?” He exclaims at you, exasperated as he picks up the color-correcting pot from his kit and turns around to face you. “I thought we agreed on eight hours of sleep per night. Getting less than that is a death sentence!”

“I’m fine, Hoseok,” you insist, even though the bags underneath your eyes are deeper than the Grand Canyon. You, admittedly, have not been sleeping as much as Hoseok has insisted upon. 

“No, you’re not, look at you! Earlier today you shoved your toothbrush into your ear when I called you while you were about to start brushing your teeth,” Hoseok reminds you, an embarrassing moment in your life that you would prefer to keep just between the two of you. Sometimes you just mix up what’s in your hands. It happens. 

You frown. “I thought we agreed not to mention that.”

“Your skin is looking dry, too,” Hoseok says, dabbing on the product underneath your eyes. “These are all signs that your body isn’t doing well.”

“Okay, Dr. Jung,” you say with a roll of your eyes, making Hoseok scowl playfully at you. “But I’m fine. I’m just working a little bit harder right now. That’s all.”

“That’s what you always say,” Hoseok points out, unimpressed with your measly excuse. “Every time I talk to you about how you aren’t taking care of yourself, you always go, ‘It’s because of work, I’m fine,’ or ‘Don’t worry about me, I just have a lot to do right now.’ It’s not healthy.”

“I don’t sound like that!” You object, offended at his mocking high-pitched impression of you. You don’t sound like Hoseok on helium. You refuse to accept that. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Hoseok says, shrugging you off as he pulls out the concealer. “I’m serious, Y/N. You work yourself way too hard. This event is supposed to be a fun business gala and you’re probably going to spend the whole time checking your email.”

“I will not!” You will.

Hoseok frowns, seeing right through you. One of the many benefits of being your personal assistant is the fact that he can read you like a children’s book. He also knows that he can say whatever he wants to you without fear of getting fired—not that he cares about that, either, because he’s probably got enough money in his bank account to put three kids through college. If he ever wanted to have kids, that is. So this is how conversations like these usually go. 

“If I didn’t like your live text updates on the stupid things people wear to these things so much, I would make you leave your phone at home,” Hoseok tells you. “You really do need to take time for yourself.”

“I do take time for myself,” you rebuke with a pout, thinking about how you’ve started waking up five minutes later so you have more time to sleep in. It means that you don’t get to read the morning news like you used to, but sometimes putting off politics until after you’ve had coffee is a good thing. 

“A once-a-month ten-minute bath while you put on a rose face mask doesn’t count,” Hoseok tells you pointedly. “You need to be incorporating this sort of thing into your everyday life. By taking time off. All you ever do is work.”

“It’s not my fault,” you huff, closing your eyes so Hoseok can do some eyeshadow. “I have a whole hotel to oversee after my dad assigned it to me. There’s a lot that I have to manage. Plus, my mom is making me go on these stupid blind dates with their associates’ snobby sons who still think that the pay gap isn’t real.”

Hoseok tuts to himself, shaking his head as he brushes color onto your eyelids. “Your parents have such bad taste in men for you.”

“I know!” 

“This is even further proof that you need to relax more,” Hoseok says economically, brain immediately connecting your predicament to his agenda to get you to take more time off, as always. “Because men stress you out.”

“Just them, but yes,” you correct.

“What do you mean ‘Just them’? Is there someone you’re interested in that doesn’t stress you out?” Hoseok demands, tapping your cheek to get you to open your eyes. You do and the first thing you see is Hoseok’s face, two inches from yours, staring at you as he waits for an answer.

You sigh. You might as well tell him about the mystery man. Clearly, you underestimated his power, because it’s been a week and you’re still thinking about him. “Yes, but—”

“‘Yes’?” Hoseok asks, shocked. “What the fuck, when did you meet him? What does he look like? What’s his name? Job? Is he rich?”

“At my birthday party,” you say. You can picture the scene perfectly in your mind. The balcony, the stars, the mask. The feeling of his hands on your waist, his lips on yours. They’ve been etched into your brain. “We talked on the balcony for a little while and then we kissed.”

“You what?”

“Don’t overreact, it’s not that big of a deal,” you order. The mere recollection of it is already making your body restless and your cheeks burn.

“What do you mean? It’s a huge deal!”

“Well, it doesn’t matter,” you interrupt, sighing to yourself, “because he ran off at midnight Cinderella-style and I don’t know his name, or his job, or even what he really looks like because he was wearing a mask the whole time.”

Hoseok stops dead in his tracks, the loose power leaving a puff of smoke in between the two of you as his words sink in. Yeah. That’s how you feel too. You finally develop an interest in somebody after years of going it solo and you don’t know a damn thing about him. Other than the fact that he is a fantastic kisser. Which is not an appropriate identifier. You suppose that you could use the mask, but you don’t even know half of the people your mother invited. How are you supposed to narrow down who was wearing a black mask and who wasn’t?

The fact is that unless a miracle happens, you don’t have any way of figuring out who that man is. Yet another thing that you have to dwell on while you worry about everything else going on in your life. 

Hoseok sits on his words for a few more moments, trying to figure out the right thing to say. Eventually, he settles on, “Damn. That sucks.”

“Yeah.”

“Can you do anything to find him?”

You shake your head, resigning yourself to a life where the mystery man will forever remain a mystery. “No. I don’t even know who was on the guest list.”

“What if you ask Jungkook?” Hoseok poses. “Maybe he knows him.”

“Jungkook does not need to know about my barely-there love life,” you say with a self-deprecating chuckle. You and your brother typically keep your conversations far away from that realm of topics, but it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that Jungkook is rather flush with admirers. Many of whom have gotten to know him a little bit… closer. “It’s no big deal, ‘Seok. I’m not really desperate to find love. I just need to focus on work, right now.”

“I wish you wouldn’t work yourself so hard, Y/N,” Hoseok says with a melancholic smile, knowing that no matter what he tells you, you’ll always be too determined for your own good. At least he tries. 

You purse your lips in understanding. Hoseok just wants what’s best for you, but what’s best for you right now is being ready for your father’s impending retirement. “There’s just too much that I have to do.”

“At least you’ll have help with the resort,” Hoseok offers, always looking on the bright side. “That Seokjin fellow seems like he really knows what he’s doing.”

You think back to your visits to the resort. Your longest stay was the first day you arrived, but you’ve been making frequent trips back to check in. And every time you arrive, Seokjin is waiting dutifully for your next orders, always getting your completed requests back to you on time, formatted perfectly. He listens to your every word and asks the right questions. He knows exactly what to do and he has no problems admitting when he doesn’t. He’s even started bringing you the occasional coffee.

He’s also terribly handsome, but you try to think about other things when you look at him. 

Hoseok’s right. At least you have Seokjin. His impeccable work ethic is half the reason you aren’t wearing yourself thin worrying about the resort. He was definitely meant to be a hotelier. 

“I guess you’re right.” You nod, letting Hoseok brush a deep maroon lipstick onto you as he finishes up with your makeup. “It could be worse.”

Hoseok mumbles in agreement, stepping back. “Let me look at you.”

You stand up, gown, heels, makeup, and all, letting Hoseok gaze at you to make sure that everything is flawless. You’ve never liked the events you have to attend, but getting dressed up is always something you rather enjoy. Especially when Hoseok is the one doing it. 

The dress drapes down your figure perfectly, hugging your sides as it gathers on the floor, leaving just enough space for the tips of your heels to peek out. Your necklace hangs low on your torso and your earrings dangle, soft golden strings with gems at the base. Your eyes sparkle with the help of the glitter that Hoseok has added, touches of shimmer on the high points of your face. You look into the mirror and for once, you feel satisfied.

“Wow,” Hoseok says, proud and beaming. “Look at you.”

There you are. 

Days at the resort hotel pass by faster now. 

Granted, no work day could ever top the speed at which the days passed when you were younger, playing outside with friends or running around in the yard during recess. But being here isn’t as terrible as you had first made it out to be. At least you don’t have your father constantly looking over your shoulder, even if he does call you every day to ask for updates. And at least the people here have integrity, more so than any of the usual executives you work with up in the central building in town. The people here aren’t brown-nosing you every minute of every day. 

And yes, getting to see Seokjin every day is also rather enjoyable. From a professional perspective. 

Hoseok says you need to take more time for yourself and relax more but quite frankly, being at the resort hotel is a vacation. It’s a respite from the hustle-and-bustle culture that your father has cultivated in his office building. It’s a break from the neverending business deals, the meetings, the agreements and bargains and contracts. And most importantly, it’s something that you can do without your father’s help. 

For once, it almost feels like a little taste of freedom. 

Of course, Hoseok would also tease you terribly about the fact that you consider overseeing a resort hotel a break, as opposed to an actual holiday where you take real time off. But he must know that that’s never going to happen. At least, not anytime soon. 

You hadn’t realized your father’s retirement was so close. The years pass by in a blur but you have always thought that your father has much too much to finish, tasks and projects, and events that will take another few years to come to fruition. Too many loose ends that he needs to tie up, deals he must close and finances he must track. You’ve been groomed to take over for him since you were young, even before you graduated, but retirement has always felt like a distant future. 

Not an imminent happening. 

Jungkook hadn’t even sounded surprised when you told him that you would be overseeing the new resort. 

You wonder if you’re the only one in your family who hadn’t expected your father to be planning his retirement so soon. The money and savings isn’t an issue—he will continue to invest long after he leaves his office—but the time is. Perhaps he has finished more than you thought he would. Accomplished more goals than you expected he’d do. 

Or perhaps, you just grew up too quickly. 

Time has always gone by much too fast for your liking. When you were little, when you were in school, when you graduated. You closed your eyes and suddenly all of your youth had whizzed by. You woke up and suddenly you were in and out of four years of college and two years of a Master’s in business. You blinked and suddenly you are about to inherit a company you thought you never would. 

The fear of everything ending is enough to keep you away. Away from that skyscraper in the center of the city, where your father’s office sits at the top floor, where he works nonstop to make sure that everything is ready for your arrival. Away from a future you thought you could avoid, until it reached you. 

Having this resort hotel, a brand new building in the beachy part of town, with efficient, competent staff and a gorgeous view, is enough to make you want to live in the past forever. 

Your phone screen lights up with your father’s contact for the third time today, the green ‘answer’ button and the red ‘decline’ button waiting patiently for your decision. Staring down at it, you frown. You normally aren’t one to purposely miss your father’s calls, but today is the day that the deal with the Ohs is finalized, something that you have zero desire to celebrate. 

After a few more moments, your phone stops vibrating in your hand, the screen going back. You roll your eyes and stuff it into the pocket of your pants, not wanting to wait for it to light up once more. You have a feeling that your mother will be phoning shortly to berate you for not answering your father’s calls, a call that you have every intention of ignoring just like the previous ones. You aren’t sure how to make clearer the fact that you think the deal is a bad idea. A terrible one, even. Mostly because the Ohs are horrible people.

Still, you cannot resist pulling your phone out when you feel it buzz against your side.

[Today, 12:27PM]

Jungkook: dude dad’s flipping out because you aren’t answering his calls

Ugh. Not Jungkook, too.

You: Tell him that I will congratulate him on the deal in person later. You: I’m busy right now.

Jungkook: he’s calling just to check in on the resort

You: I give him weekly updates and forward him any pressing news. He’ll manage.

Jungkook: just call him or mom’s gonna call you

You: Tell her that I will congratulate him on the deal in person. You: Later.

Jungkook: are you gonna be like this until dad retires?

You: Like what?

Jungkook: -_- Jungkook: don’t play stupid Jungkook: you’re being stubborn and you know it.

You: Dad already knows that I didn’t approve of him going through with the deal. I don’t imagine he’s expecting a party from me.

Jungkook: you can’t keep ignoring him just because you didn’t approve of one thing Jungkook: how is that professional???? Jungkook: you’re inheriting the business soon Y/N Jungkook: you need to start acting like it

You: Don’t tell me how to act when you aren’t the one busting your ass trying to make sure the business is ready for when he retires. You: You have your own life to lead and your own things to do. It’s not your place.

Jungkook: as a businessman, it isn’t Jungkook: as your brother, it is

You scowl at your screen. The brother card. Jungkook pulls it whenever he and you both know that you’re being unreasonable, and the worst part is that it always works. It always works because Jungkook only ever wants the best for you, wants to see you succeed as a businesswoman, as a future CEO, and as his sister. And who are you to deny him such a simple pleasure?

You: I just have a lot on my plate right now. Dad and I can talk later.

Jungkook: yknow Jungkook: like, occupationally, you are more than ready to inherit the company and you know it. Jungkook: you work so hard 24/7 and you never take breaks, you know exactly what you’re doing and you can command a room better than anyone i’ve ever met Jungkook: but Jungkook: oh idk

You: What?

An impromptu psychoanalysis from your wise-beyond-years younger brother is certainly not something you had been expecting today. But Jungkook always has and always will know you better than anyone else, something that is both a blessing and a curse.

Jungkook: you are so fucking ready to inherit the business Jungkook: i just wish you would realize it

Silence. You pause, watching the three dots appear and disappear over and over again, Jungkook typing and deleting what next he wants to say. Chuckling to yourself, you read his message over and over again. 

What’s Jungkook on about? Doesn’t he know what you do? The position you have? Just because you’ll eventually take over the business doesn’t mean you’re ready for it. Isn’t Jungkook aware of how much work you have to do? About how your father assigned you this resort hotel as punishment for disagreeing with him? 

You aren’t ready. 

You’re barely halfway. 

You: Yeah, right.

Jungkook: i’m serious Y/N Jungkook: can’t you see how prepared you are

You: I still have lots to do, Jungkook. Just because I’ve been given more responsibility doesn’t suddenly mean Dad’s going to retire tomorrow and that I’m ready to take over.

Jungkook: that’s not what i meant and you know it

You: I don’t feel like talking about this anymore. Tell Dad that I’ll talk to him about the deal later. 

Jungkook: … Jungkook: fine Jungkook: but don’t say i didn’t try to tell you

You angrily switch your phone off, fuming at the fact that the deal’s gone through, fuming at how Jungkook thinks that suddenly because you were given a resort hotel to oversee it means that you’re ready to take over from your father, and fuming at how, above all, there’s a part of you and a part of Jungkook that both know that he is, as usual, right. 

There’s a knock on the door to your makeshift office at the hotel and you lose it. 

“What?” 

You look up just in time to see Seokjin jump slightly at your shout, coffee sloshing around in the cups in his hand. Ah. You hadn’t meant to scare him like that. 

Exhaling, you rub at your temples as you set your phone down on the desk, shaking your head. “I’m sorry, Seokjin. I didn’t mean to snap at you. Please, come in.”

“Coffee?” He offers, a small smile on his face as he holds it out.

“You are a lifesaver,” you declare, taking the cup from him happily and having a sip. Perfectly scalding. Seokjin waits patiently behind your desk until you’re finished, swaying slightly. “Can I help you with anything?”

“Oh, no,” he says, shaking his head. “Just thought that I’d let you know that I’ve just got more files on the finances.”

“Oh, excellent,” you declare happily, accepting the small manila folder from underneath Seokjin’s arm. You open it just to browse, and everything seems to be in order. An easy thing to file away for future reference if necessary. And there’s no doubt in your mind that Seokjin’s already faxed you an electronic copy as well. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” Seokjin nods. He turns to leave but seems to linger, noticing the tension in your shoulders and the irritation on your face, the way you drink up the boiling coffee like it’s nothing, relishing in the burn down your throat. He almost stops himself, opening his mouth slightly and then closing it, but then he just sighs, and he asks, “Are you alright?”

You sputter out the coffee all over the manila folder in front of you. “I’m sorry,” you say over coughs, the beverage going down the wrong pipe in all of the chaos. “What—what did you say?”

“You just seem more stressed than usual, is all,” Seokjin says, rocking back and forth on his feet with his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his ink black slacks. 

“I’m sorry if I’ve been snappy recently,” you say, admitting it. “There’s just a lot I’m dealing with right now. Mostly to do with work.”

“I hope I’m helping, then?” He says hopefully, a hesitant grin on his face. 

You nod in agreement. Without him, you definitely wouldn’t be sleeping half as much as you do now (which is apparently still not enough, according to Hoseok). At least Seokjin’s there. “You definitely are. I don’t think I’d have made it without you,” you chuckle. 

Seokjin smiles. “If you need me to do more, I’d be happy to. Just ask.”

“Thank you, Seokjin. I really appreciate that,” you tell him. In the short time you’ve known him, Seokjin’s kindness has outshone even his stellar work ethic, a trait that you’ve come to admire in him, mostly because you know you can only dream of being as generous as he. “It means a lot.”

“Anytime,” he says, and he means it, too. “I’ll always be here for you.”

And standing here, in your makeshift office, with a matching cup of coffee in his hand, and a gorgeous, toothy smile on his face, you know that he means that, too. 

Sometimes, you can’t even believe a man like Seokjin exists. He’s practically flawless.

“I will bear that in mind,” you promise. “You really are a wonderful person, Seokjin. Really.”

Seokjin grins, the compliment going straight to him, blushing furiously as he exits your office, waving a tiny goodbye on his way out. You return it, watching fondly as he nearly crashes into the door frame, hand slamming onto it before he realizes. He laughs at his clumsiness and even from here you can see his cheeks get redder, heating up like the coffee in his hand. 

Work is hard. Being the unprepared heir to an enormous conglomerate even harder. But Seokjin’s right. 

At least you’ll always have him. 

You’ve never been one to develop friendships with your employees, but there is something about Seokjin that’s different. Something about him that makes him a confidant first and a hotelier second. Something about him that pulls you in, an electric, magnetic touch. 

You feel like you’ve known him longer than you feel. Feel like you’re closer than you really are. 

Some people are just like that, you suppose. Some people just make you wish that you had known them forever.

Quite frankly, you don’t think you could name a single thing wrong about Seokjin even if you tried. He gets your coffee order perfect (not that it’s hard, it’s just that you’ve never told him what it is), he does all of his work before you’ve even asked, and he runs the damn resort hotel better than you do. He’s obviously a people-person and can make others laugh without trying. He’s even figured out how to compliment you, a trait that not even grown businessmen have learned.

The days pass in a blur, made quicker by the ease of working with him. Of being around him. Seokjin lifts up your spirit and he doesn’t even have to try. His competence in the workplace is enough to have you coming by the resort daily instead of weekly, hourly instead of daily, just so you can spend time in a place that, for once, makes you feel relaxed. 

Hoseok would say that Seokjin is a miracle-worker. 

You would say that he’s just brilliant.

Honestly, sometimes you think that even Seokjin is more well-equipped to run your family’s business than you are. And you’re the heiress. 

The differences between Seokjin and all other men you’ve had the displeasure of interacting with (besides Jungkook, because he’s your brother, and Hoseok, because he’s the best) become abundantly clear after your second mother-mandated blind date. 

The first one that you went on a couple of weeks ago was alright. He wasn’t an asshole, but also he had the same amount of flavor as the plain white bread that you were served prior to the meal. But no points is better than negative points, right?

You mentioned to your mother that you probably wouldn’t be interested in a second date with him. She didn’t sound surprised. 

Unfortunately for you, your second blind date was not nearly as uneventful. 

The good part about your date was that it was a brunch arrangement, which is unabashedly your favorite meal of the day and also saves you the trouble of having to get all dressed up for a fancy dinner in the center of the city. But that is where the good parts end. 

You don’t know what your parents were thinking, setting you up with a man like Sangmin. Every single thing that you have ever complained to them about a man, Sangmin either did or was. The first red flag was how he showed up to your brunch meeting wearing a navy blue suit. It didn’t get any better from there. 

You know that your parents just want you to find someone and settle down, someone who can take the weight off of your shoulders and get you to stop working so hard, someone who will make you happy and who can keep you comfortable, someone who is something that you genuinely will want to spend time with, but you can’t explain why, with this knowledge of your preferences and dislikes, they still send you on dates with men like Sangmin. 

Men who boast about their money with every chance they get, checking the time just so they can flash their Rolex watch even though their phone is right there, telling you how many fancy cars they own that deserve a woman like you in the passenger seat. Men who try to explain economic practices that your family pioneered to you. Men whose eyes flash with dollar signs when they hear that you’re going to be inheriting your family’s company. 

Your parents want you to find someone who can take the weight off of your shoulders and keep you comfortable? They should let you pick. 

At one in the afternoon and not a moment later, you storm into your office, flinging your bag onto your chair as you groan aloud, staring out the window and fighting the urge to punch right through the Plexiglass. There’s no word for the way you’re feeling, the unintelligible growl that you let out. You just aren’t having a very good day. 

Your desire to interact with men is at an all time low, and yet, you can’t help but turn around when you hear his voice. 

“Knock, knock,” Seokjin says from the doorway, two cups of steaming coffee in his hand. He strolls up happily to you, placing the plastic cup in your outstretched hand. “How’d it go?”

“Bad,” you spit, not wanting to say anything else.

“Oh, no, really?” Seokjin asks, genuinely disappointed. At least someone was rooting for you. You don’t even think you had been rooting for yourself. “Worse than the first guy?”

“Say the first guy was just… slightly stale white bread, okay?” You begin to explain, because Seokjin doesn’t need the details and you don’t need to relive the experience. “Then this guy would be… how would you put it—?”

“Really stale white bread?” Seokjin offers.

“A rotten egg mayonnaise sandwich that’s been sitting in a dumpster for two weeks,” you correct. 

Seokjin winces. A perfect reaction, as always. 

“It was just bad. I don’t want to talk about it anymore.” You decide once and for all, moving to your desk and slamming the coffee cup onto the wood. It sloshes over the edge and splashes around the side, leaving behind a ring that you know you’ll have to clean up later.

Seokjin goes to stand by the window, looking out into the back gardens of the resort, all tropical red flowers and vibrant green leaves. “You have a third one, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” you groan, the mere thought sending shivers down your spine. And not the good kind. The fact that the dates aren’t even over yet is enough to send you into a tailspin. “God, my parents are just desperate, at this point.”

“Why?” He asks, turning to face you, brown eyes wide and curious. “Are they worried about something?”

“Ugh,” you begin, on the verge of slamming your head onto the mahogany. The problem isn’t that your parents are worried you won’t find someone. It’s that your parents think that it’s their job to find someone for you. “I think they’re scared that I’m never going to marry, or that I work myself too hard and need someone to spend time with to calm down. I don’t understand. Even if I were to never marry, that’s not a bad thing. I can do what I want. I’m perfectly capable of running my family’s group without someone else.”

“Do you not want to get married?” Seokjin asks. The reason, you realize, that Seokjin is so refreshing, a respite from the rest of the executives that constantly surround you, is because he doesn’t expect anything of you. He doesn’t assume that you’ll eventually marry and become disparaging when you suggest otherwise. He doesn’t assume that you constantly need guidance on official matters that you alone have been tasked to handle. He doesn’t assume that you aren’t capable. 

(He did assume your preferred coffee order. And he is an excellent judge.) 

“I mean,” you begin, rubbing at your temples in a desperate attempt to relieve your body of the stress that sits upon it, “I suppose that eventually, it would be nice. But I’m in no rush if I haven’t met the right person, you know? Like, I’m not going to force myself to if the time isn’t right. There’s no deadline to get married.”

Seokjin nods in agreement, mouth shut. One of your favorite things about Seokjin is how, whenever you begin to speak, he begins to listen. 

“My parents are just putting all of this pressure on me to get married because they think that I’ll need someone’s help when I take over after my father retires. Or they just think that I’m sad and lonely. Which, maybe they’re right about the second part, but I just hate how they’re putting all of this pressure on me to go on dates and get married and work hard when there isn’t even a timeline for me to take over yet. I don’t even have real confirmation that my father is planning on retiring anytime soon. I just—ugh!” There really is no better way to put it than to just shriek and throw your hands up in the air. You sigh, dragging your hand down the side of your face. “Do you ever wish that you could just… I don’t know. Disappear?”

Seokjin’s eyes widen when he hears your words, like they’ve set something off in his brain. Even sitting on your tongue, they feel familiar to you. Where have you heard those before?

He seems to wait for another few moments, contemplating what he’s next going to say, like if he just opens his mouth and lets the words flow out he’ll say something wrong. Little does Seokjin know, in your eyes, nothing he could ever say would be wrong to you. 

“You aren’t sad and lonely,” he begins, a nice, comforting pep talk even though you sort of are both sad and lonely. You work nonstop and have three friends, two of which are employed by your family, the other one being your brother. “And you don’t need to rush into getting married if you don’t feel like it, no matter what your parents say. I mean, at least I think you don’t. You’re obviously much more focused on your career and how you want to succeed in the future, and that’s good. It’s something that means a lot to you.”

He takes a few steps towards you, setting his coffee cup on your desk. You look up to him from where you’re sitting in your office chair, letting his words carve themselves deep into your heart, rest within your soul. 

Sometimes, you don’t realize you’ve gotten yourself down until someone is trying to pick you back up. 

“You do have control over your life,” he tells you, and for once in your life you actually feel yourself believing it. “What you are doing, what you have been doing, is right. Things will come with time. You’ll learn and grow more as you keep living. And even if you aren’t looking for them right now—” he says, eyes wide and knowing and promising, looking at you so desperately because God, he just wants you to listen to him. To let his words mean something. “—there is someone out there who will love you.”

The sound of his voice dissipates into the air, sinking into the floor, dust after a storm. 

“You really think so?” You ask, hopeful. You never believed in soulmates but you have always believed in love. Believed that when the feeling was right, you would know. 

(That kiss still lingers in your mind, like morning dew after a rainy night. Like frost settling over the grass. Is it possible that you can feel like that again?)

Seokjin nods, firm and true. He does think that. He does. “I do,” he says. “I really do.”

The third date is forgettable. 

Or perhaps Seokjin has just enchanted you. So much so that your brain doesn’t even choose to remember interactions with other men. They just aren’t as memorable. 

You finish up this round of parent-mandated rich boy blind dates and get back to work, knowing that you might as well make the most of your now-unoccupied time before your mother decides once again that it’s time for you to go on dates again with men you have no interest in. Work, unlike so many other things in your life, will always be a constant. For better or for worse. 

Today, it’s barely even dawn before you arrive at the hotel. In recent days, the resort has become your hub for all of your work, even the work that doesn’t have anything to do with it. There’s just something calming about being here. Something that makes you feel more productive. That makes you want to work more. 

You slide into your office with ease, coffee in one hand and messenger bag in the other, surprisingly awake considering the sun is hardly over the horizon, soft orange rays peeking out from between the trees and skyscrapers. You don’t imagine there’s a lot of tasks of immediate priority waiting for you on your desk, but there’s always other work to be done. Administrative orders, emails to send, requests to be made. Even here, there’s no shortage of items on your never-ending to-do list. 

Seokjin’s not due to clock in for another several hours, at least. But he works long days and longer nights, and he deserves at least the morning off. He should at least be afforded that small luxury. 

Sitting down in your office chair, you pull yourself into the desk, elbows resting on the hardwood, head in your palms. The smell of coffee wafts through the air, thick and potent, waking up your nerves, one by one, sending small waves through your brain. You close your eyes, almost drifting back to sleep, sighing happily. 

Today feels like a good day. 

The hours pass quickly when you’re here, the sun rising slowly in the sky as it always does, day in and day out. You rely on it as much as it relies on you, wakes up this little corner of the world, says hello to the people stepping out of their doors and onto the street. No matter what, you know that the sun will always be there to greet you when you wake and say goodbye before you sleep. Within thirty minutes your coffee is finished, within the hour your emails are answered. 

One by one, you check the tasks off your list, responding to a phone call or two, forwarding some files to your father, rejecting a business proposal and requesting changes to another. You don’t even notice the minutes blowing past you until the sun is high in the sky, and the clock is chiming twelve. Noon, already?

“Knock knock,” a voice from the doorway calls. 

You feel your body relax when you see Seokjin standing there, peeking his head into your office like he always does. He looks much more casual today, a sweater vest over a button-down shirt, looser beige pants in place of his usual tailored slacks, hair sitting in a tousled mess atop his head, forehead peeking through the strands that hang low over his face, brushing his eyelashes. Instinctively, you glance down to your usual pantsuit attire. Did you miss a memo?

“What, no coffee for me today?” You tease, an eyebrow raised as Seokjin enters, coffee cup-less.

“Not today, sorry,” he says with a guilty smile. “I thought that maybe we could get something else to eat.”

“Oh!” You exclaim happily. “Sure, we can order some delivery. What are you feeling? Sushi? A burger? Oh, I know this wonderful brunch place that’s just a few blocks away—”

Seokjin laughs, a hand reaching out to push your phone done. The mere sensation of his fingertips upon your skin are enough to have you looking back up at him, shellshocked, heart frozen in place. “I was thinking something a little different.”

“Like what?” There are plenty of options for the two of you to pick from.

“How about you and I take a break this afternoon?” He asks, eyes wide with ambition. 

You frown, nose scrunched up at the notion. “A break? You mean… leave?”

Seokjin nods. Oh, so you did hear him correctly. “You’re always working so hard. You should take some time off.”

“Ugh,” you respond, rolling your eyes, having had this conversation thousands of times before. “You sound like Hoseok.”

“Hoseok’s right, Miss Y/N,” Seokjin points out, much to your chagrin. “You’ve been working so much lately. Just a little break, alright? We can get out of here and do something fun.”

“Nice try, Seokjin,” you say with a scoff, turning back to the work in front of you. “Maybe some other time.” Which means never, so long as you can help it. 

“Oh, come on,” Seokjin says, a pleading lilt to his voice. He’s beginning to pout in front of you, lower lip turned outwards. “Just a couple of hours, please? We can go into the city and walk around for a little bit. Eat some food in the park, or something.”

You look up to him, eyes narrowed in suspicion. That does sound good… but you have work to do, items to cross off your list. This hotel isn’t going to manage itself, and neither is your life. “A couple of hours?” You clarify, interest piqued. 

“Just a couple,” Seokjin promises, fighting off the grin that’s etching its way across his face. “Please?”

You sigh. 

Twenty minutes and a Lyft ride later, you and Seokjin are standing in the middle of the city, along the streets known for their high-class fashion boutiques and expensive restaurants with afternoon tea. There’s a park a couple of blocks to the north. It’s a part of the city that you rarely get to spend time in, usually trapped in the business skyscraper sector a ten-minute subway ride away, but for that reason alone, it feels brand new. 

Seokjin buys you both a cup of expensive coffee despite your objections, and the two of you walk along the sidewalks side by side, sipping from your paper cups with plastic lids, letting the warmth wash down your throats. 

It’s nice, being out here. Away from anything that reminds you of work. With someone you’ve wanted to spend more time with for a while, now. 

Out here, you can almost pretend. Pretend that you aren’t the heiress to a major global conglomerate, pretend that you aren’t being groomed to marry up, pretend that life is just a little more normal. 

Out here, you can almost pretend that you and Seokjin are more than just friends. 

“Oh my God, Y/N, look at this shirt!” Seokjin gasps, stopping in his tracks in front of the window of one of the most expensive luxury boutiques you can name. You’re pretty sure that Jungkook shops here sometimes. 

The shirt in question is a satin white button-down with hand-stitched birds decorating the fabric, wispy little designs that seem to be fluttering off of the material itself. It stands front and center in the window, a masterpiece meant to have people stopping in the streets just to gaze up at it in awe. It’s doing its job rather well. 

“You wanna try it on?” You offer, motioning towards the door of the shop, a sleek, black one with metallic silver accents. 

“What?” He asks, turning to you with an eyebrow raised. 

You smile, pointing up at the shirt, eyes tracing the drape of the fabric. “Come on, just for fun.”

It doesn’t take much more convincing to have Seokjin marching up to the door and pulling it open, giddy like a child walking into a toy store. He spots what he’s looking for immediately, a single shirt on a silver rack, hanging from a simple wire hanger. Other than the one on the mannequin in the window, there seems to be no other option. 

“It even feels expensive,” Seokjin sighs happily, hand brushing over the satin fabric. He holds it out to you, and it’s so light and pliable that you can barely feel your fingertips touching the material. 

“There’s the fitting room,” you say, pointing to the back corner, black velvet held up by a rod, muted gray paint lining the walls. Seokjin grins excitedly at you before rushing off, disappearing behind the curtain with a flourish. 

Instinctively, your eyes trace the interior, jumping from the hangings on the walls to the decorative shelves, the pastel cashmere sweaters and shiny leather loafers, the silken white button downs and navy striped ties. Every item in this room practically screams Seokjin’s name, and even when he isn’t in front of you can you picture him wearing each piece, picture him in an oversized light pink sweater or a sleek white suit. 

It’s weird. You’ve never been able to imagine things like that. Not even on you. 

The clothes in here are some of the most gorgeous garments you’ve ever had the pleasure of laying your eyes on and yet there is something else in this room that outshines them all. 

“Ready?”

You turn back to the fitting room, watch as the curtain shifts slightly. “Ready,” you say.

A hand comes out to push the curtain to the side, satin sleeves covering his wrist, but not even that glimpse of skin could really prepare you for the sight before your eyes. 

Seokjin steps out of the fitting room and you almost gasp aloud at the sight. 

The funny part is that he isn’t wearing anything else designed to complete the look. His hair is loose and floppy, like he had brushed through it with his fingers once or twice before deciding it was good enough. His pants are a roomy beige, hardly even complimenting the monochromatic shirt, white with black accents. He’s wearing sneakers. 

And yet, he looks stunning. 

Standing in front of you, Seokjin looks like the kind of person that your parents would want to set you up with. Rich, well-dressed (not that he isn’t already), powerful, educated. But he looks like more than that, too. He looks like someone straight out of a painting, like a sculpture that belongs in a museum. He stands tall and mighty, the hero after defeating a villain, the love interest in an old-timey film. 

God, he looks amazing. Looks like he belongs in those clothes, belongs in this store. Belongs in the kind of life that the usual clientele of this store live in. Something about him is just so familiar. Like he has always fit into the crowd that your parents want you to associate with. Like you’ve seen him before, once upon a dream. 

“So,” he says, interrupting your thoughts with a smug smile. “How do I look?”

He must already know the answer to that. 

You’re speechless. “I—Wow, Seokjin. You look great.”

A hand comes up to rub at the nape of his neck. “You think so?”

“I know so,” you correct. “It fits you perfectly.”

The fabric shapes his shoulders but drapes over the rest of his torso, including his ridiculously small waist. It both hangs loosely and hugs all of the right places. Your family regularly gets clothing tailored and yet you still don’t think you’ve ever seen any item of clothing fitting someone as well as this one does him. It’s as if the damn thing was made for him. 

“It feels like I’m wearing a cloud and a blanket all at once,” he says dreamily, relishing in the feeling. “If only the price tag made me feel this way too.”

“How much is it?” 

Seokjin holds out the sleeve to which the tag is attached for you to inspect, and the moment you see a comma in the cost, you understand why. No wonder Jungkook’s fine with shopping here. To your family, that amount is pocket change.

“But you really like it, don’t you?” You ask, looking back up at him, closer now. Seokjin nods, lips pressed together in a thin line, wanting something that he knows he can’t have. You know that feeling, too. 

“I would get it if I didn’t mind taking out a loan for it,” he jokes, admiring the detail at the cuffs, the way it cinches in towards his wrist. 

“Then let me buy it for you,” you say before thinking twice, because you have more money than you realistically know what to do with and Seokjin deserves it. He looks gorgeous in it and more importantly, he feels gorgeous in it. He emerged from the fitting room and it was almost like there was this white glow surrounding him, this fluorescent halo that made it seem like the shirt was melting into his body. 

Seokjin’s eyes widen. “What? No, I can’t let you.”

“Please?” You plead, eyes gazing up to him. “You deserve it. Plus, you look amazing.”

“It’s so much money,” Seokjin reminds you, shaking his head. “I can’t. No.”

“Seokjin, do you even know who I am? I can afford it, don’t worry,” you assure him, already pulling him towards the register, his old sweater vest and button down still hanging on the rack inside the fitting room. 

“No, I can’t let you. It might not be a lot of money to you, but it is to me,” insists Seokjin, refusing to back down. 

You roll your eyes, figuring out the game that he’s playing. “Then consider it a thank you. For all of the things that you do for me. The least of which is bringing me coffee every day.”

“That’s just my job, Y/N—” He reaches out a hand to stop you from getting out your wallet, his enormous palm cupping yours as you stare at him, fighting over the shirt like two friends with a restaurant bill.

“No,” you tell Seokjin, because his job is to be a hotelier but he became a friend instead. And he didn’t do it just because he was told to. “You deserve it,” you say, placing your free hand on top of his. It makes him look at you, eyes glossy and big and beautiful. “You really do, Seokjin. This is the least I can do to say thank you for being there for me.”

“Ma’am?” 

The lady behind the counter catches you both off guard. “Will you be buying this shirt?”

Seokjin looks down at you in disbelief, almost like he doesn’t expect you to say yes. Like he doesn’t think he’s worthy of a shirt with such a high price tag.

But little does Seokjin know, if you could buy the whole universe for him, you would do it in a heartbeat. 

You walk out of the boutique with a light heart and a lighter credit card, with Seokjin by your side and his old clothes in a cardstock bag with ribbons for handles. Even if he had resisted at first, you’re happy that he caved. He looks stupidly handsome. You’re actually somewhat regretting agreeing that he should wear the shirt out instead. 

A block away from the park is a little macaron store with more available flavors than you can count on both of your hands and toes. Feeling insatiable, you buy a box of twenty-four and decide on the spot that you won’t be leaving the center of the city without having finished them all. The mere scent of the shop as you walked in was enough to send you into a tizzy. 

Seokjin scopes out an open spot on the grass, in the shade of a big Japanese maple tree, and the two of you immediately settle down in the park, the blades tickling your ankles as you set the box of macarons in between the two of you and get to work filling your stomachs. 

“All of my friends are going to think that you’re like, my sugar mommy for buying me this,” Seokjin says, taking a bite out of the lavender one. 

“If you’re really that embarrassed, you could always say that I just gave you a raise,” you offer, peering over into the box to pick your poison. The problem is that you just want to shove all twenty-three into your mouth. 

“No way,” says Seokjin over a mouthful of macaron. “A sugar mommy is way more exciting. I’m just lucky I have a boss with a bank account.”

“Well, unlike all of the other men that my parents have sent me on dates with, you actually deserve to have someone treat you once in a while,” you say happily, eventually deciding on a lemon flavored macaron and popping the entire thing into your mouth. “I’ve met very few men who are as charming as you, Seokjin. Charming and kind.”

“‘Very few’?” Seokjin repeats, interest piqued. “Who dares upstage me?”

You laugh at his brazenness, his attractive confidence. “Oh, no one,” you say with a shrug of your hand. “There was this one guy I met at my birthday party, but I didn’t even catch his name.”

“Too busy mingling to ask?” Seokjin teases, looking sufficiently less confident than he did ten seconds ago. Like someone you had just said caught him off guard. 

“Yes, actually. And you don’t really need to know this, but he was an excellent kisser, too. Really sent me into a tailspin,” you say, feeling the faint sensation dance across your lips, the ghost of his mouth on yours. “But he ran off at midnight like Cinderella and left only a mask behind to remind me that I didn’t dream up the whole thing.”

“Ah,” Seokjin says with a nod, a strangely succinct answer for a man as wordy as he. A silence settles over the two of you as you continue to eat, slowly emptying out the box of macarons between the two of you, a light snack to keep you occupied when your mouths aren’t running circles around each other. “My dog gave birth a few weeks ago,” he says randomly. “Want to see some photos?”

At your enthusiastic reply, Seokjin pulls his phone from his pocket and opens up his camera roll to reveal a gorgeous terrier with four equally adorable puppies nursing from her, and your heart nearly melts. Nearly all of his most recent photos are pictures of them as they’ve grown older, opened their eyes and learned how to walk, started play-fighting with each other and eventually tracking into new territory (the living room), but you don’t miss the couple of selfies you see here and there. Even with the warped iPhone camera does Seokjin still look positively flawless. 

“They’re adorable, Seokjin,” you tell him, heart soft. “I’m in love.”

“Me, too,” Seokjin says happily. “Two of the puppies have future homes but I think I want to keep one of them. I just love them too much to let them all go.”

“You’ll make a great dog dad,” you assure him, sighing contentedly. “God, don’t you even know how perfect you are, Seokjin?”

He is silent. 

“Like, you bring me coffee every day and do all of your work and never talk down to me or assume that I don’t know what I’m doing. You’ve raised a family of dogs and have shown them more love than anything else. You even got me to leave the office for once even though you knew that I’d be really annoying about it,” you declare, partially to him, partially to you, and partially to the world, who deserves to know that there is someone out there like Seokjin that is equal parts wonderful and generous and kind and handsome and funny and lovable. 

It’s not just the fact that most of your interactions with men your age go sour. It’s the fact that Seokjin is good just because he is, not because he tries to be. It’s the fact that he cares so deeply and loves so much. It’s the fact that for once, there is someone out there who really does understand you. 

“You deserve a break,” Seokjin points out. “You work too hard.”

“Hoseok will be so angry that you accomplished what he’s been trying to get me to do for months, now,” you say. You’ve already missed three phone calls and seven texts from him within the last couple of hours. 

“It’s my charm,” Seokjin teases, a soft watermelon macaron grin on his face. 

“It really is,” you agree, feeling the gap between you close, inch by inch. “There’s just something about you, Kim Seokjin.”

“Mmm, do tell,” Seokjin murmurs, beginning to lean in, your bodies moving of their own accord. Your mouth tastes like lemon and sugar and coffee, but you can’t find it in yourself to care any less. “Because there’s something about you too, Miss Y/N.”

Slowly, you feel your eyes begin to drift shut, craving more than what you already have, itching to feel his lips press against yours, to feel that same fire in your feins. Of course, the next time you kiss someone would be here, underneath a giant Japanese maple in the middle of a city park, the furthest cry from a hotel balcony beneath a starry sky. But something about this is distinctly familiar in a way that you can taste, in a way that you will know once his lips press against yours. Beside you, Seokjin is barely an inch apart from you, pink lips with macaron crumbs hovering over yours. God, he’s so close. 

You want him to be closer. 

And then—

“Aw, what the—?”

The two of you jerk apart to find a giant stain on Seokjin’s shoulder, courtesy of an unknown flying park visitor who has long disguised themselves amongst the leaves of the maple, waiting for the right time to do its business. 

“Seriously?” Seokjin groans, looking down at the white and brown stain that now rests squarely on the fabric of his brand new shirt, an unpleasant splat front and center. “Thank you, bird,” he declares, throwing his hands up in the air. 

You fight the urge to laugh at how uncanny all of this is. “I’ll pay for dry cleaning.”

“No, it’s alright,” Seokjin says, grabbing a couple of the napkins from the macaron shop to dab on the stain. “A little soap and laundry detergent will be enough. No big deal.”

“I just feel bad,” you tell him. 

“Me, too,” Seokjin agrees, pressing gently against the fabric. “Great timing, too.”

“Yeah,” you sigh, dejected. 

Perhaps, if you were a little bit bolder or a little less fearful, you would try again. You would throw caution to the wind and press his lips against his, bird business and all, and never look back. You would relish in the sensation of his mouth on yours, of his hands on your waist, itching to feel that same feeling again. Itching to know that there really is someone out there who will love you. 

But you aren’t, and the moment is over. And you can’t, because you just don’t know how to. And you ponder if you will forever wonder what he tastes like, what he feels like. 

The clock strikes three. 

Some days you come in early, and some days you stay in late. 

Later than usual, that is, because you regularly stay past eight in the evening without blinking an eye. 

But some nights, you just don’t feel like going home. At least, not yet, you do. Some nights, you would rather stay here.

Home is where you’re supposed to feel at ease, where you’re supposed to relax and unwind, take off your heels and jacket, pour yourself a cup of tea. And that is what your home is to you, a place that you try to keep as free of your work life as possible. 

But sometimes, you would rather just work. 

Rather work and feel productive and get home a little bit later than go home and feel like you still have so much to do. Rather work than dwell on all of the other parts of your life that don’t involve work, things like marriage and retirement and your family. Things that you feel like you have no say in, no control over. You go home and waiting for you is another phone call from your mother telling you that you need to find someone. You go home and your father drops by to hand you a pile of late-night tasks reminiscent of how hard he’s been working lately. You go home and even if you’re all by yourself, your thoughts take control over your mind. Your worries and fears are magnified. 

So some nights, you would rather just work. 

Peering out the window of your office, you notice that the stars are just a little bit brighter out here, away from the hustle and bustle of the city. Not nearly as clear as they were on your birthday, at a hotel overlooking the town from afar, but clearer. There isn’t a cloud in the sky as the stars twinkle above you, waving hello from millions of light years away. 

Nights like these are too rare to spend indoors, huddled over your computer as you draft another email. Just because you’re still at work doesn’t mean you still have work to do. Well, you do, but you’re trying to be kinder to yourself. Trying to cut yourself a few more corners of slack. 

The rooftop is not off limits to guests. But you know a couple of secret places that can afford you the privacy you want, the space to lie back against the cement and feel the breeze tickle your skin.

When you arrive, there’s already someone there. A familiar tuft of brown hair, an oversized pink sweater. You wonder how long he’s been out here. 

“Knock knock.” Your sounds like a whisper but feels like a shout, the wind carrying the words from your lips to his ears as he turns around, hardly surprised to see you here. 

Seokjin laughs when he sees you, this fond, wonderful smile as you stroll up beside him, where he’s sat with his legs crossed on the rooftop’s edge, looking out over the distant city, the waterfront. “Didn’t think you’d still be here,” he says. 

“I could say the same for you,” you retort easily, setting down beside him. If you were any braver, you’d rest your head on his shoulder. 

You’re not. 

“You must know by now that I practically live here,” Seokjin jokes.

“Well, I’m starting to pay rent as well, so you better get used to it, don’t you think?” You tease back, looking out into the same city, illuminated by the same moon. 

Seokjin narrows his eyes. “I thought that you were going to start taking it easy on yourself,” he reminds you pointedly, one of the lasting lessons you had learned from the day out on the town. The other being not to sit underneath Japanese maple trees. 

“What can I say, I just love to work,” you say, and even though you try to make it sound like a joke both you and Seokjin know you’re not kidding. Work always has and always will be your biggest priority. Never have you lived in a world where anything else comes first. Never have you cultivated that sort of life for yourself. 

“How’s your family?” He asks, a broad question with a loaded answer. 

You don’t even feel yourself letting out a sigh until the groan leaves your lips, settling like dust. “The same as always,” you say, not even attempting to sound cheerful or happy about it. “They work me hard because they want me to succeed. And I want that, too.”

“But don't you ever want something more?” Seokjin asks, but it’s not the sort of question where he wants you to give him a yes or a no. It’s the sort of question where he already knows that you want to say yes, that there is a whisper deep inside of you that wants to have a life outside of your job, your workaholic family. But you can’t. Because your family is counting on you. 

“I just can’t let them down,” you say instead, because you and Seokjin both already knew how you were going to respond anyway. “There’s so much that they expect of me. What kind of heiress—no, what kind of daughter am I if I don’t at least try?”

“It sounds like you’ve thought about this a lot,” Seokjin muses. 

You force a chuckle. Obviously you have. Whenever you aren’t working, you’re thinking about what next you must do, what next is on your list. You’re thinking about how your family is counting on you to succeed. And how you want to do it for them. “I’ve had my moments.”

“Do a lot of people know how you feel?” He poses, looking at you curiously. 

You shrug. “Not really. My parents, no. Jungkook, sort of. Hoseok, yes. And I suppose you, now, too.”

Seokjin cracks a small smile, this lopsided grin that makes you feel like you’re missing something. “So I guess they’re secrets, aren’t they?”

“Secrets?” You respond naively, an eyebrow raised in bewilderment. 

“Secrets, huh?” He asks, sliding another inch closer, daringly so, teetering on the edge of territory that you haven’t touched in years. “I like the sound of that. Got any more for me?”

You smirk up at him, a grin playing on your lips. “Only if you have one for me in return. No freebies.”

He laughs, loud and clear, the sound ringing out in the nighttime air. “Alright,” he says, obliging. He leans in close, lips hovering above your ear. “I think you’re gorgeous.”

“Oh my God,” you say aloud, dumbfounded. “Oh my fucking God. It’s you?”

Seokjin laughs out loud at that, clapping his hands together at your positively shocked face, mouth agape like a fish out of water. He seems very amused by this, for some reason. A reason you can’t ascertain, mostly because you had no idea. “Honestly, I’m surprised you even figured it out from that. It took you forever to realize.”

You’re so scandalized you don’t even have the right words to respond. “What do you mean, ‘it took forever for me to realize’? Why didn’t you say something?” You demand. 

Seokjin’s still fighting off the remnants of his laughter, hiccups escaping from his parted lips every few seconds. “Because it was obvious you didn’t recognize me at first! And I had no idea it was you until you showed up at the hotel that first day anyway. And I didn’t want to bring it up, because I was worried it would have made things weird.”

“Look at us now!” You cry, positively mortified. Seokjin knew it was you the moment you stepped through the sliding glass doors and you still hadn’t figured it out, not even after weeks of knowing him, of getting to spend time with him. “God, I just—I can’t believe this.”

“The funny part is how I knew you had no idea who I was and yet I fell for you anyway,” Seokjin says, but his words aren’t making you laugh whatsoever. 

Your heart freezes in place as they sink in, etching themselves into your thoughts. “You—you what?”

“You befriended me without knowing that I was the man you kissed on the balcony that night, let me bring you coffee and confided in me and bought me the most expensive item of clothing that I currently own,” Seokjin says, a list of things that you loved him for all the same, “and I realized that it didn’t take that kiss to get me to fall for you. It took knowing you. Learning who you are. Who you want to be.”

You feel your heart getting lighter with every syllable that leaves his mouth, every breath that he takes. 

The truth is that no man had ever made you feel the way that the mystery man did when you kissed that night. But no man had ever loved you the way that Seokjin did. Treated you the way that Seokjin did. The kiss was a spark. 

The friendship was the fire. 

“All this time you were right here,” you muse, looking at him. Here in the moonlight you finally understand why he looked so familiar, why the light hit his skin in all the right places, why the sound of his voice had always struck a chord within you. He glows silver in the moonlight and yellow from the halo above his head, he sits beneath the navy sky and lets the starlight decorate his irises, sparkles in a deep brown ocean. “All this time, and I had no idea.”

“I’m sort of glad you didn’t know,” Seokjin admins sheepishly. “We got to fall in love another way.”

Love?

Could it be?

You’ve never truly been in love. Not the way that your parents are, or the sneaky way you see Yoongi looking at Jungkook sometimes when he’s not looking. But if it feels anything like this, anything like electricity beneath your skin and embers inside your chest, then you think you might be on your way. 

“You’re in love with me?” You ask. 

“Kinda, yeah,” Seokjin admits crudely. 

You feel your cheeks heating up, your heart bubbling within you. You lean in close, watching faintly as he does the same, eyes trained on your lips. “Do you have any other secrets for me?” You murmur, the words hot and heavy on your tongue. 

He inches closer to you, lips hovering above your own, this soft, contented smile on his face as he gazes down at you, at the way that you are beginning to love him back, at the way that you already do. 

“This.”

The words barely leave his lips before he’s pressing them against yours, and the moment you touch him you know, you know that it’s him, that it’s Seokjin, that he is the man that you have been waiting for. Immediately your body lights up, electric shocks tearing through your veins, blood set alight. He is so familiar, smells and tastes and feels so familiar, like you have known him for a thousand years and you’ll know him for a thousand more. You get the same sensation you had when you last kissed him, all those nights ago, your body going weak, your skin turning to flames, but there’s something else, too. 

A burst in your chest. A puff of smoke in your heart. 

A fireplace. A little room in your heart, just for the two of you. For you. For your love. 

You think you could get used to this. 

He pulls away after a few moments and immediately you feel dizzy, like his lips were the only thing keeping you stable, closing your eyes as you burn the feeling into your brain, memorize how his mouth presses against yours. 

When you finally open them, there Seokjin sits, kiss-drunk and in love, this goofy, wonderful smile on his face. 

“I’m still angry at you for not telling me. You could have saved us so much time,” you declare, not wanting the moment to last too long for fear that you’ll become obsessed.

Seokjin laughs, pressing a quick kiss to your nose. “Even if you forgot who I was tomorrow, I wouldn’t tell you,” he says, this stupid perfect grin on his face, this gorgeous, brilliant grin, “because I would happily fall in love with you all over again.”

God, he is so beautiful. A dream come true. A happy ever after.

The following morning your father saves you the trouble of having to awkwardly explain why you don’t feel comfortable continuing to oversee the resort hotel by letting you know that you’re welcome back in the central building in town and that he’ll have another executive replace you. Thank God, because that would have been one strange phone call. 

Luckily, when your parents do eventually meet Seokjin, they are pleased to see that he’s been a loyal hotelier to your family’s conglomerate for several years now, and that he excels at his job. You also think that your mother’s just gotten softer over the years, wishing more for you to be happy than for you to be married to someone you hate. 

It’s a good thing Seokjin’s charming. Otherwise, you have no idea what could have happened. But he’s here, and he’s with you, and your parents are happy and so are you. What more could you ask for?

“Your mom really didn’t have to throw this whole party just for me,” Seokjin whispers into your ear as the music plays on inside, this soft classical sound that Yoongi had composed not too long ago. 

You turn around to look back in through the window, watching all of the guests waltzing along to the song. Jungkook’s in the back corner, behind the grand piano, and you can see him throwing winks Yoongi’s way every now and then. The sound of the party is barely audible from out here, in the stars’ silence, in the faint way the night whispers, this distant white noise.

“Throwing parties is her thing,” you explain helplessly. “Besides, you’re part of the family now, aren’t you?”

“Hey now, we aren’t married just yet,” he reminds you pointedly. “Unless you—?”

“Only after my father’s retirement next month,” you tell him for the umpteenth time. It’s not that you don’t want to be married. It’s that you don’t have time. You’re about to inherit an entire empire. You would prefer not to be juggling two major life events at once, if you can help it. “Besides, you don’t even have a ring.”

“How do you know that?” He asks innocently.

You smack him in the torso with your satin-gloved hand, shocked. “What?”

“I never said anything,” he teases, looking off to the side far too guiltily for your liking. 

You place your hands on your hips and turn firmly to face him. “Kim Seokjin, do you want to marry me?” You demand. 

Seokjin laughs, twirling you around before pressing a kiss to your lips, the two of you giggling. “Always!” He declares to the world. “I think about marrying you every day of my life.”

You grin. “Then we will. Then let’s get married. After my father’s retirement, of course.”

“Of course,” Seokjin agrees. 

“What do you think the theme should be?” You ask, racking your brain for potential options. You like the idea of a rustic, cottage-y wedding. Or perhaps a more celestial one. Or maybe, if you wanted to go full circle, a masquerade.

Seokjin smiles. It’s clear he already has his answer. 

“How about Cinderella?”

↳ links are broken, but don’t forget to message me with any thoughts or feedback!

[gnocchighoul]

Gains and Goofs

Summary: In which Beel just wants to do push-ups and Belphie is a brat. MC gets stuck between them :)

Reader is gender neutral :D 

Warnings: None, this is pure fluff 

Word Count: 1.7k 

AO3 Link

Hell has officially frozen over.

Sort of. Not all of Hell—just your little corner of it. Specifically just the House of Lamentation. 

The AC broke. Of course it didn’t break normally though—oh no, it just so happened to be the one AC unit in all of the Devildom that broke by chilling the house to arctic temperatures. It’s not even an exaggeration—the windows are freezing over. From the inside.

If Lucifer hadn’t taken your D.D.D hostage, you would’ve followed through on your threat to call up Lord Diavolo and beg to stay at the demon lord’s palace. Lucifer might enjoy suffering in this arctic hell, but you sure as heck don’t. The whole thing is such a shame, really—the lonely prince would have totally loved the imposing company. 

Alas, you’ll probably never see him again. RIP to your biweekly sessions of afternoon tea and gossip. By your calculations, you are precisely 96 minutes away from turning into a human popsicle. You probably would have lasted longer, were it not for the thieving and hoarding of a certain snuggle monster.

The snuggle monster in question, Belphie, is in his bed, tucked away within a massive fortress of blankets. The little shit had gone into your room and stolen yours, as well as Beel's, and Spiderman only knows who else’s—you can hardly see him amidst all the colorful fabrics. A flash of skin here, a patch of clothing there—he's so wrapped up that you aren't even sure if he's breathing. 

And then there's you. Halfway tangled in Belphie's nest, halfway out in the cold and violently shivering your tush off. You had desperately tried to squirm your way into the mass of fabric, but Belphie was a master at cocooning himself. The layers of blankets made for a frustratingly effective armor, and your unsuccessful efforts left you sprawled on top of him, miserably tangled up in the first two layers like a fish in a net.

You are suffering. 

Even your high-and-mighty roommates are suffering. Last time you had seen him, Lucifer had been wearing his jacket normally—not like some kind of cool, vampire-y cape. Even Asmo, Mr. I-Wear-Sleeveless-Shirts-In-Freezing-Weather had caved and bundled up in layers. Cashmere, respectively. 

You’re pretty sure that Levi has gone into a deep-sleep coma, much like a Floridian iguana. The poor, cold-blooded thing. At least he’s sleeping for once. He’ll be fine. Probably. You don’t know how Satan and Mammon are dealing with the cold. Because of their silence, you’ve come to the conclusion that they’ve also frozen solid and perished. They will all be missed.

There is only one member of this household that is not suffering. One could even say he’s thriving. And who might that be?

Beelzebub. 

Apparently, one side effect of having a black hole for a stomach is an insanely fast metabolism—Beel constantly runs warm because of it. He may as well have a bonfire in his tummy—that boy is like a damned furnace. You could roast marshmallows in the heat that comes off his body. Really good ones, with just the right balance between crisp and fluff.

Needless to say, Beel is enjoying these tundra temperatures. At some point during your failed attempt to leech off of Belphie’s snuggles and stolen blankets, Beel had settled into his workout routine—which so far has consisted of push-ups. Lots and lots of push-ups.

He’s currently somewhere in the upper 400 range, with no signs of slowing down or stopping anytime soon. He’s hardly broken a sweat, and there isn’t a trace of fatigue in his form. His muscles are unbearably distracting—you’re supposed to be attacking Belphie’s fortress of warmth. But how on earth are you supposed to concentrate on doing that when the big beefy boi is literally right there looking like a whole snack?

A draft of bitter air wisps over you, and you hug your knees tighter to your chest. Your body feels brittle—like a single touch could shatter you. Your brain is probably more ice than gray matter at this point, and you don’t know how you’re going to fight off the cold. It’s not like Belphie is going to let you warm up in his kingdom of blankets any time soon.

Your eyes tick around the room, looking for something—anything—that could save you. You glance at the closet—you guess that another sweater or two (or five) might help. Your eyes stray lower, to the floor, and—

Oh. Oh my. Now isn’t that a very appealing opportunity.

Beel’s palms are pressed firmly against the floor, elbows slightly bent and back perfectly straight. His eyes are trained steady on the floor space between his large hands, where his D.D.D is playing a video of the cooking show variety. 

Perfect.

You roll off the bed and stagger over to Beel, burying your nose into the collar of your sweater in a feeble attempt to block out the icy air. He’s so focused on the enormous gourmet pizza in the video that he doesn’t notice your presence until you clamber on top of him. 

It’s a feat that you execute with immense precision and grace—you certainly don’t just flop onto his back with a very unattractive “oof” and cling onto him in the hopes that you won't just bounce off his back.

And hoo boy this is a thousand times better than any old mess of blankets. 

Beel pauses on the ascent, which gives you just enough time to wrap your arms loosely around his neck, your legs crossing securely around his lower waist. You cling to him like a baby koala and smile against his firm shoulder. You’ve only just settled, but the warmth of his body is already seeping into your frozen limbs and thawing you out. Oh yes, he’s wonderful.

“Whatcha watchin’?” you ask, peeping at the phone.

“Bon Appédevil.” Beel says. He carries on with his push-ups, completely unaffected by your clingy human antics.

“Is this alright?" 

"Mhm. Just don't fall off, okay?" Beel turns his head slightly to crack a smile at you. When he dips down low to the floor, you can feel how his corded muscles tense and shift, flexing taut each time he completes a push-up. 

"Aye aye captain!" You lift a hand to salute, then the world spins horribly when you lose your balance and pitch to the right. Beel snorts and gives you a second to readjust, unable to move much anyways due to your panicked grappling, then continues once you've securely latched back on.

You stay like this for a good amount of time. You’re not sure how long exactly—the combination of Beel's warmth and the steady rhythm of his push-ups has you happily dozing off, but suddenly, you are dragged back to the moment by the fussy sloth monster himself.

From the cozy depths of the blanket mound, a muffled voice slurs, "Where’d you go? Whas goin' on over there?" 

"Push-ups." Beel says.

Belphie's head pops out of the blankets—tufts of hair sticking up at odd angles, eyes glassy from sleep—and you're a bit surprised because you thought his butt had been there. Had you been laying on his head that whole time??

You shoot him a grin that is most certainly not smug in any way shape or form. “'Sup, Bells?"

Belphie sits up with a great big stretch, then collapses back onto the mattress with all the grace of a discombobulated panda. He squints at you. “What are you doing? You’re supposed to be snuggling with me."

"You call that snuggling?" you say. "You wouldn't even let me in the blankets! I was freezing."

A lazy smile pulls at Belphie's lips. "I wanted you to work for it." 

"You're such an ass." 

Your surroundings stop moving up and down as Beel pauses mid-pushup to click on a new video. When he resumes, Belphie reaches out to you like a child and whines, "Come baaaaaack."

You cling tighter to Beel. "No way. This is a thousand times better than just laying on a bed."

"Oh, really?” 

He’s got that tone in his voice. The plotting tone.

You’re expecting him to do something petty—pry you off of Beel and haul you to the bed, or push you to the ground and take your place. 

You’re not expecting him to collapse on top of you and crush you like a bug, but that’s exactly what he does. He laughs at the pathetic wheeze that’s squeezed out of your lungs and winds his arms snugly around you and Beel, at the same time hooking his ankles around Beel’s and effectively caging you with his body.

Somehow, throughout the whole ordeal, Beel manages to keep doing push-ups. It’s impressive and a little bit scary.

“Go away, you jerk!” you twist your hips, trying to knock Belphie off your back, but he just clutches onto you like a determined and horrible sloth. 

“Hey, you were right. This is nice.” Belphie snuggles his face into the crook of your neck with a happy hum and squeezes you tighter. You can’t move. This is not in accordance with your plan. “We should do this more often.” 

“You’re squishing me,” you wheeze.

“Don’t be such a wimp, you’re fine.” 

“Can you two stop squirming? It’s getting hard to focus.” Beel says.

Defeated, you let out an exaggerated sigh and go limp. No point in holding on when Belphie’s doing all the work for you. 

This isn’t so bad, you suppose. Being stuck in the middle of a demon sandwich. Maybe it’s even a little bit nice. The twins are cozy and warm, and they smell like a homey combo of sugar and spice—it’s only a matter of time before you start to smell like cinnamon cookies. 

As far as broken AC experiences go, this is a surprisingly good one. You could be worse off—like, for example, Levi, who you’ve completely forgotten about, what with him being all comatose. You were supposed to check on him like 30 minutes ago, but he’ll be fine. Probably. You’re having a great time and that’s all that really matters!

Who would’ve guessed that Hell freezing over would turn into such a wonderful experience for you?

((likes and comments are v appreciated 🥺👉👈))

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Actus Reus

Warnings: nonconsensual sexual acts (oral, spanking, intercourse)

This is dark!Andy Barber and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You find yourself at odds with Andy Barber both in and out of court.

Note: I just decided to write this one shot because I could and because @lokislastlove​ is harassing me all the time!

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

You stood as the judge went through the motions, the verdict closer and closer. Judge Hannon's voice carried through the courtroom and you longed for those words; 'Not guilty'. 

As your victory was confirmed, you glanced across the room at the Assistant District Attorney. You smiled as his eyes met yours and his jaw ticked. More and more often you found yourself on the docket with Andy Barber and to your delight, the last three times had been successful. At least, on your end.

You shook the defendant’s hand and congratulated him on his avoided jail time. Your own celebration would have to wait.

You packed up and neared the aisle. Andy sat behind the desk, his briefcase open and his papers still stacked before him. You rested your bag on the corner and stopped.

"Head up. There's always next time." You chimed.

He looked over. His lips remained a straight line and his eyes burned fiercely at you. Usually he took it on the chin with grace and you were startled at the sheer anger in his expression. He sighed and turned to shuffle his papers into a single pile.

"Yeah," He stood, "Next time."

You smiled and nodded. You left him to stew in his ire and shrugged as you neared the door. You'd seen it before. Egos always seemed to find their way into the courtroom. Well, his wasn't your concern, you had your own to deal with. This high wouldn't last forever, but while it did, you were sure as hell going to enjoy it.

💼

Aaron finished his drink and checked his watch. The wife was waiting, so he claimed. That was always his excuse to cut out early and the rest were quick to follow suit; early morning, kids, cat needed to be fed. You bid Carlos goodbye next and then Geena. Your posse was rather lame outside the courtroom, not that they were much fun there either.

You shrugged and made your way to the bar for a second round. You stood at the corner trying to catch the attention of the bartender. The subtle movement of another at the opposite end caught your eye. You recognized the beard made darker by the shadows and you recognized your adversary despite his attempt to hide behind his hand.

You smiled and played his game. You pretended not to notice him as the bartender finally came your way. A double with lime. You waited and watched until the stout tumbler was placed before you. You paid and left the change as a tip. You walked a few stools down, closer to Andy as he stared into his rye. You climbed up and set your glass down loudly.

You stared at the Coors sign and crossed one leg over the other as you sipped. You smiled above the lip of the glass and sighed. His stool creaked and he cleared his throat.

"Come to gloat?" He asked.

"Nah, just wanted to see if you'd find your spine." You taunted. "I take it that's not a happy drink."

He glared at you and drained the last gulp. He motioned to the bartender and ordered a refill.

"And once she's done, give her another on me." His voice was low, monotone. He barely looked at you.

"You don't have to--"

"You won. You earned it," He huffed. "And I was always told it wasn't good to drink alone."

"You talking about you or me?" You countered. 

He shrugged and accepted his second drink.

"Whatever makes you feel better," He grumbled.

"Look, Mr. Assistant District Attorney, I don't think you need to be so worked up over me." You snickered. "A public defender is hardly an enviable position."

"You do well enough, don't you?" He took a swig and licked the excess from his lips.

"Look, I think I'm good on the refill. A kind gesture but..." You stood and took your drink. "I don't think alcohol is a great mixer for us."

"What's wrong? Not so mouthy without an audience."

"Right, Andy," You backed up slowly. "I'll see you at the courthouse. Hopefully not soon."

You left him to mope and returned to your table, alone but not disheartened. The gin was just starting to kick in and lent a soft glow to the dark barroom.

💼

Another drink and you were ready to go. Admittedly it was one too many but tomorrow was your day off and despite his resent, Andy had insisted on sending it over. He left just as it was delivered to your table. You raised it in thanks as he grabbed his jacket and headed for the door.

You left the empty glass on the table and slung your jacket over your arm as you hugged your bag to your side. It was barely midnight, the bar would be open for a few hours more. You stumbled out into the dim street and the door clattered behind you noisily. 

You swayed as you stopped on the curb and looked up and down the road. A cab would be your best bet.

You chuckled dopily as you squinted at a set of headlights down the street. The alcohol was starting to really nip at you. You raised your hand to flag down the taxi but were suddenly pulled off balance. Your scream was capped by a hand over your mouth as you kicked out and dropped your blazer and bag onto the sidewalk. You flailed as you were dragged back into the mouth of the alley just beside the bar.

"Shhhh," The hot breath smelled like whiskey as you were shoved against the wall. 

You looked up at the looming shadow, the silhouette of broad shoulders and a face shrouded in darkness. Your vision was hazy and your felt a draining warm flow through you as the gin sank deeper into your stomach.

"You make a noise," The coarse growl chilled you, "I'll make sure you never say another word again."

You gulped and slapped the stranger's chest. He was strong, big, immovable. You whimpered into his palm and he pressed it harder to your lips.

"Do you understand?" He snarled.

You nodded and your hand slipped from his chest. 

You leaned against the wall, trying to flatten yourself as his hand slid from over your mouth. 

"Please..." You wisped.

"Don't, " He warned as he grabbed the front of your blouse, his leg against yours as he pinned you there.

He tore your shirt open and pushed it aside. He squeezed your tits gruffly, your bra thin beneath his touch. He was quick to snake his hands down around your ass and knead with a beastly growl.

His hands descended further and he yanked on your skirt until it was above your thighs. He ripped your panties down just as quickly and your legs wobbled beneath you. You threatened to crumple entirely and he pushed your shoulders back against the wall.

He was terse, silently demanding as he led your body to his whims. He pulled your leg up and hooked it around his hip. You heard a buckle and a zipper, the noise cut through your panic and you were washed over with numb acceptance.

You blinked a long blink and when you opened your eyes, he was inside you. He jerked your body violently as he impaled you. His hand kept a hold of your knee as he writhed against you with muted grunts. His other hand moved in the shadows along the edge of your vision. You closed your eyes again and scratched your fingernails along the wall as your ankles buckled underneath your weight, the thin heels of your shoes threatening to snap.

You felt a painful fullness, an incessant pounding in your core, as this stranger ravished you. Your eyelids bloomed yellow for an instant and you opened them to another blinding flash, and another, several until the light turned constant. Until you were nothing but a rag doll crushed between the grimy brick and inhuman warmth.

The bar door opened with a shrill grind and closed again. Several times as you were trapped only feet away. Drunken footfalls echoed away and you just let them.

You gave a whine and the hand flew from your leg to your mouth. Another hush as your leg dangled around the stranger and he kept on rutting into you. Every thrust was harder, meaner, his sinister growls barely restrained as the light kept your clueless.

Then it all stopped. His hips slowed and he pulled out of you. Heat spurted down your thigh and the light moved lower before it died entirely. Your skirt was tugged down over the mess and you were left to collapse into a heap. 

The buckle again, and the zipper. The soft soles on the ground and the drop of your bag beside you and the flutter of your jacket over your chest. You stayed there, weak, frightened, and the shadow walked away into the darkness.

You buttoned up your shirt, crooked and untucked as you pushed yourself to your feet. You pulled on your blazer and gripped your bag tightly, unsteadily finding your way back to the street. There was a drunk pissing on the other side of the road and you limped down towards the corner. Another taxi appeared and you raised your hand, almost tripping over your own feet.

All you had to do was get home. Get home, get safe, and you could figure it out tomorrow.

💼

The next day, you woke with barely any recollection of how you got home. You remembered your last drink and the door closing behind you but everything else was a garbled, retina burning blur.

You didn't do much more than hold together your splitting head. It really hadn't been that great a victory and you accepted this as the humbling you deserved. That and the ache throughout your body, the filth you felt upon waking on your couch. The feeling as if you had forgotten something very important. But all that remained was that blur. That painful blur that made you want to wretch.

It faded with each day that followed. As you got back to your usual toil, your little excess dissolved into the void of routine. You worked long hours, interview witnesses, consulted defendants, and pored over case files. 

That night almost entirely slipped your mind but for the odd dreams that waited for you in the night. The bright light, the rutting breaths, the warmth in your core, broken by the sobering mornings and washed away with the hours between.

What was it? Two, three weeks. Maybe a whole month. You didn't dwell on that night until your old foe sat just across the aisle.

You stood patiently, quietly, as the judge read over your new evidence. It would be the crux of your next case but you couldn't betray that to Andy as his hand stretched across the plaintiff's table and he watched Judge Hannon closely.

"Your honour, we were not given sufficient notice--" Barber began.

"This trial has yet to commence. The defendant is giving notice now and as I see..." Hannon paused and flipped to the first page, "You signed off on the review."

"That is not what we saw," Andy lied.

"If there has been any tampering, it was not on our accord." You argued. "As is customary, once the plaintiff has reviewed the evidence it is then sent directly to the court to be held for official consideration."

"Mr. Barber, if you can give a valid legal argument why this evidence should not be permitted, I'm waiting." Hannon closed the folder and stared at the prosecutor.

Andy's nostrils flared and he lowered his head in deference. He had no argument. As you watched him, heard his gristly breath as he sighed, you felt an odd coil in your stomach.

"Very well. I haven't the time to argue this further. You have your approval," Hannon tapped the folder. "Dismissed."

You smiled, just a little. The tugging at the back of your mind kept you from your usual delight. You packed up your briefcase and headed for the aisle. Andy met you there and watched you with a stern scowl. He nodded you ahead of him and you skirted past without a second thought.

He followed you down the aisle as the next parties on the docket shuffled into place. You swept through the door and it was swiftly caught behind you. The hall was quite and sterile, especially compared to the courtroom.

"You won't win. Not this time." Andy sneered and you stopped to look back at him. "You can't base your whole case on a parking slip."

"We'll see." You said and turned back.

You took two steps before his hand was on your arm. He spun you back to him and you gaped at him in shock. You wrenched free of his grasp and stumbled back.

"What do you think you're doing?" You hissed. "Andy, it's just a case. You win some, you lose some."

"Yeah, well, I'm real tired of losing..." He reached in his pocket and slid his phone out. "Especially to you."

"I'm just doing my job and your numbers aren't my problem," You scoffed. "Get your shit together."

"I should say the same," His lips curved just a little and he turned his phone to you. "How many people want this decrying their morality to the world?"

You stared at the image and grimaced. It was you, your blouse was undone, one side of your bra had slipped down below your chest and your eyes were bleary and senseless. Your skirt was bunched at your waist and below... That night. What had happened that night?

"What the fuck!?" You snarled. "Andy, how did--" 

"Shhh," He hushed you and pinpricks spread over your skin. Your blood curdled as you felt like throwing up. "You don't wanna do this here."

You glanced over at the scales of justice on the short plinth then back to him.

"You think I'll throw the case because you got a few photos of me?"

"I think you’ll do... whatever I want you to." He smirked. "You'll start by having a little chat with me. In my office."

"I have to get back--"

"You will lie and say there was a delay in court," He said staunchly. "Or... I can CC you on the email I send to Hannon."

You swallowed and lowered your eyes. You shook your head and took a breath. You threw your hand up weakly.

"Okay," You said quietly.

He neared you and you winced. He sidestepped you and his shoes clicked down the polished floor. They stopped at the very end.

"Well..." He said.

You turned stiffly and marched towards him, your fingers tight around the handle of your briefcase. He carried on and you followed just a step behind. He led you past the desks of his fellow attorneys and to the corner office where his name was etched on a brass plaque.

He closed the door behind you with a quite clasp. You stood just inside and he brushed past you and crossed to his desk. He dropped his briefcase and leaned against the corner as he flicked his thumb across his phone. He watched the screen intently and tapped it twice. 

You saw the moving shapes, indecipherable from your vantage and you set down your briefcase by the door. You neared and looked down at the video of yourself. You had no doubt it was him doing those things to you but nothing in the video could confirm that. If it wasn't him holding the phone, you'd have no idea at all.

"Andy!" You reached out and grabbed at the phone. "What is wrong with you?"

"You seemed to enjoy yourself." He stood straight and held the phone above him, beyond your reach. "Didn't you?"

"I-I--" You spluttered. "I don't remember. Andy, don't you realise that what you did--" 

"You think you'd win that case, hmm?" He chuckled. "Really? You were drunk, you can't remember what happened let alone who it was."

"Give me the phone, Andy," You growled and were almost flush to him as you tried to reach it. "How dare--"

"You really think anyone will believe it's me?" He caught your wrist and held it above you. "Maybe, but they know for sure that it's you being a little slut in this."

"What did you--"

He wrenched your arm down and twisted. You cried out as he spun you around and turned you toward the desk. He easily slipped his phone away and grabbed the back of your neck. You dug your heel in and he squeezed.

"Shhh," He hissed in your ear. "We don't want anyone to hear. To know what a slut you are."

"Stop, get off--"

He let go of your wrist and clapped his hand over your mouth. He pushed on your neck and forced you forward until you were against the desk. He bent with you below him until your cheek was on the wood. He wiggled his hips and you felt his arousal against your ass.

"If you want to keep your reputation, likely your job, you will be good for me," He stood slowly, his hand still on your neck as he held you down. "You get your wins and I get mine."

"You can't do this," You pleaded.

"I already have," He gloated, his other hand crept down your back.

His reached over your ass and bunched your skirt in his fingers. You squirmed and his grip sent a pang down your spine. You groaned and he forced your skirt up over your ass. He tutted and played with the lacy edge of your panties.

"Is this what you wear to court?" He asked. "Naughty girl."

"Andy..." You uttered.

"You be quiet," He ordered as he grasped the top of your panties. "Or these go in your mouth."

He tore them down past your ass and you gasp. He leaned his weight on your neck and rubbed your ass. You closed your mouth and shakily curled your fingers over the edge of the desk.

"Good," He tickled along your skin and pulled his hand away.

There was a lull, a tense pause as you waited for whatever he had planned. The sharp slap that followed stung your ass and shattered the silence. You choked on your cry and he did it again. His large hand sent ripples through you as he spanked you, each time a low purr rumbled from him. Your toes slipped along the floor as your legs turned to jelly.

He only stopped as a soft chiming sounded. He released your neck and slowly dragged his hand down your back as his other rubbed a circle over your ass.

"Stay," He said.

You covered your face with your hand but didn't move from the desk. 

"Barber," He said and indiscernible chatter rose from the speaker of his phone. "Oh, yeah, yeah. No, I'm not busy. No problem."

There was a moment before he let out a long breath. He pinched your ass and stepped away from you.

"Canavan's on her way." He grabbed your bag and returned to you. He pulled you up by your arm. "Better hide."

"I should go--"

"No time," He said as he urged you around the desk. "Go on."

He threw your bag under the desk and pointed beside as he shoved you down. 

"She said she was already on her way."

"Andy," You fixed your panties and skirt. "I'll just go--"

"How's this?" He tilted his phone toward you. "Another to add to the collection."

A photo of your ass above your lacy panties greeted you. You blinked and recoiled.

"Why are you doing this?"

"We'll have lots of time later to discuss," He pushed on your shoulder and put his phone in his jacket pocket. "Now, go on."

You dropped to your knees reluctantly. He sat and waved you under the desk. You back underneath it, careful not to knock your head. He wheeled his chair close and blocked you in. His knees were on either side of your head as he rubbed his thighs.

"You'll have to keep quiet," His fingers fluttered up to his fly and he shifted as he undid it. "Keep yourself busy."

"Are you ser--"

"Shhh," He caught your chin as his other hand pulled his cock free of his pants. "Remember, quiet."

He got as close as he could and drew you to him. He stroked himself and pressed his tip to your lips. A knock sounded at the door and you froze.

"Open your fucking mouth," It felt as if he would crush your jaw and you obeyed with a whine. He shushed you as he slid into your mouth. "Don't you fucking stop." He growled under his breath before raising his voice to an eerily chipper tone. "Come in."

His cock was at the back of your throat as you stilled. You heard the door open but not close. The heels crossed and the other chair creaked as someone sat.

"I heard about the new evidence," The district attorney said. "Bit of a rough patch, eh?"

"Can't all be home runs," He said and tapped your leg with his toe. "It's nothing. I'll find a way around it."

"Look, Barber," Canavan said. "I know you will. You're a good attorney but we all need breaks. I can see it, you're stressed. It's okay to take a vacation."

"You know, it has been..." You  began to move your head as he poked you again with his shoe. "Tough but I think whatever it was, I'm past it. It was just... you know Laurie and Jacob. She was doing a lot of overtime and the kid likes to run off at all hours but I think we finally figured it out."

His legs held you snugly as he tensed at the feel of your mouth gliding up and down his length. You thought of the images on his phone, of the chaos they could inspire, of how hard you'd worked to get where you were. This man wanted to exchange all that for his own ego. You pressed your tongue to his shaft and he cleared his throat gruffly.

"A couple days, if you need them, more if you wanna take the family away," Canavan offered. "Look, a little while without you is better than you being here but not really being here. You get it?"

"Oh, I... do," He shuddered as you kept your pace steady. 

You did your best not to make a noise as your spit dripped down his length. You could tell he was struggling just as much not to give you away.

"How about I think about it and get back to you tomorrow? I'll have to talk to Laurie." He said evenly.

"I can wait until tomorrow," The chair groaned and her heels clicked on the wooden floor. "Maybe dust off that Jack you hide in your second drawer. I'll keep pretending I don't know about it."

"I might just," Andy chuckled. "Thanks, Lynn."

"I mean it," Her footsteps neared the threshold, "Think about it."

The door closed and Andy let out a long breath. His hand went to the back of your head and he pushed himself down your throat with a moan. 

"Fuck," He swore as he gripped your head between his hands. "You little fucking bitch. I thought you didn't want anyone to know you were so..." He hissed as he bobbed your head. "Bad. Fuck!"

You grabbed his thighs as he guided you up and down. You tried not to choke on him as he hammered the back of your throat. His right hand slipped around the back of your head and his other latched onto your shoulder. 

He swore again as he leaned back in his chair and lifted his pelvis. He long legs stretched out around you as he spasmed. He held your head down as he grunted and emptied himself into your mouth. 

His hips bucked only a few more times before he stilled. His hand fell from you and he hung his arms over the sides of his chair. He sighed and you nearly gagged as you pulled him out of your mouth.

You were trapped halfway under the desk and you felt around behind you with one arm as you cupped your other hand before your mouth. You had a pack of kleenex in your bag, somewhere.

"Ah," Andy clutched your hand and pulled you with him as he rolled back. His cock softened slowly over his pants. "Swallow or you can keep going until you get it right."

You frowned and your lips trembled in disgust. His cum had already thickened on your tongue and your eyes rolled back as you made yourself swallow. He let you go and you wiped your lips with the back of your hand.

"You know how it is," He winked as he leaned back and bent his arms behind his head casually. "You win some, you lose some."

[thebibliomancer]

Essential Avengers: Marvel Super Heroes Secret Wars #10-12

February, 1985

DEATH TO THE BEYONDER!

Wow, Doom has been beaten to hell in this story, huh?

Couldn’t have happened to a nicer etc etc.

Anyway, lets get to it.

Last times in Secret Wars: Some amazingly powerful being from Beyond the universe called the Beyonder kidnaps a bunch of heroes, villains, shades thereof, and chunks of random planets to put on a big toy commercial where action figures can bonk off each other.

The X-Men ditched the other heroes to team up with Magneto to do their own thing, as they’re wont to do. But still largely helped the other heroes fight the villains. And didn’t even do villain shit even though Magneto advocated for it.

There have been a bunch of fights back and forth between the groups but most recently, Captain America’s group of heroes stormed Doombase and took down the villain group then had to rush to back up the X-Men in dealing with Galactus who wants to eat the planet, as he is wont to do.

Doom busted out of the cell the heroes stuck him in to pull off his master plan with the help of solid sound man Klaw while Reed Richards had a crisis of weird conscience as he became convinced that maybe Galactus should eat the planet. But he eventually helped the other heroes drive Galactus off-planet where the hat horned purple planet eater started to eat his own spaceship, with Doom planning to steal that tasty snack.

And that brings us to now.

Where things are getting super freaky.

Reed Richards’ skeleton viscerally upsets me.

But as Galactus’ ship turns from Mobius ship to energy cloud, the cloud gets ripped away from Galactus and streams towards Doombase.

Captain America sends Captain Marvel to Doombase to check if Doom is behind this Total Doom Move and she zips over to determine, yup, Doom is pulling a total Doom right now.

He’s got himself strapped to a thing under a bunch of Klaw lenses injecting PHENOMENAL COSMIC POWER right into his itty bitty body.

Captain Marvel is going to zip back over to let Captain America and Mr. Fantastic know whats going on but Professor X chimes in her brain that he’ll save them some time by setting up a psychic conference call between her and Reed.

Meanwhile, Doctor Doom finishes consuming the aggregate energy of a spaceship the size of a solar system and trips out a little on omnipotence.

Doom: “By the dark gods! My least whim alters the world around me! Such is the power coursing within me that stone and steel are wisps of nothing which bend and transform in slavish obedience to my merest stray thought!”

Just say no to phenomenal cosmic power.

Also, some omniscience, which lets him see his own brains and into the souls of the people in Doombase.

Annnd. He spots Captain Marvel. Womp womp.

When the psychic connection between her and Xavier is suddenly cut off, the heroes pile into the X-Men’s wrecked ship to fly to Doombase and save Captain Marvel.

Hm. They’ve really been back and forth. They were all just at Doombase and then they came here and now they’re going back to Doombase.

Since the ship is wrecked, Magneto just propels it with MASTERY OF MAGNET and Cap(tain America) praises him for living up to his hype.

Which sets Magneto off on a rant.

Magneto: “I gather, Captain America, that you would have preferred that I fail! Or... was that remark, perhaps, intended to be a ‘well done’ for which I should humble thank you.”

Captain America: “At ease, mister!”

Magneto: “Allies should be ‘at ease’ with one another! What troubles you? Is it my awesome power? Are you jealous? Afraid? Or is it merely because I am a mutant that you are not ‘at ease’?”

Captain America: “Now that you mention it, the fact that you tried to kill all of us here several times as part of various evil schemes for world conquest is pretty hard to forget entirely!”

This sort of feels like Magneto is antsy because he hasn’t been villaining as much as he likes. Or like him going ‘today I shall cause problems on purpose.’

But, whoops, Cap says that he doesn’t have a problem with the X-Men which sets off Wolverine on a rant about how Captain America doesn’t do enough for mutants.

Geez, its like the time he unmasked a governmental conspiracy by Richard Nixon to use a mutant powered UFO to take over America doesn’t even count.

Wolverine accuses Cap of not laying off Magneto even though he’s been helpful. I’ll note that all Cap did was tell Magneto good job which Magneto decided was a slight.

Meanwhile, over at Doombase where Doom likes to Doom, Doom is pondering what to do now.

He is now powerful enough to wipe out everyone on Battleworld with a wave of his hand and easily win this Secret Wars. But he’s already so powerful, what could he possible ask the Beyonder for?

Doom: “Are those dust-mote heroes truly my enemies? Or... is there now but one foe in all existence worthy of Doom? The Beyonder himself!”

Mostly because he exists and is more powerful than Doom and that simply cannot do.

Like, Doom notes that he already has all the power he could ever want but there’s someone over outside the universe who has more power so Doom wants it. Even though the power he do have is messing him up.

Truly Doom in a nutshell.

Hm. Is it odd that everyone just decides that the Beyonder is male based on nothing? He does decide to be male when he manifests on Earth in Secret Wars 2 but there’s no basis for the assumption here.

But we have toys to sell so Doom upgrades his armor.

This was another request from Mattel, for Doom (and Iron Man, hence the upgrade he gets from Mr. Fantastic) to be given high-tech costumes.

I personally think they just didn’t want to make capes. Notably, there was never a Thor toy.

In-universe, the new armor is a secret weapon to use against the Beyonder, based on Galactus’ machine and the data Doom got scanning the Beyonder in issue 1.

The heroes but into Doombase to find no one to fight. All the villains are still locked up and Doom is nowhere to be seen. They find Captain Marvel, frozen in light form like a hologram.

Then a massive KRAKABOOOM! shakes the fortress as DOOM goes to confront the Beyonder.

The Beyonder: “Stop! You cannot approach me!”

Doom: “Then approach me, coward -- on your knees, if you have knees! Come! Cringe before your master! Grovel before Doom!”

The conflict starts to shake Doombase apart and a big ol rock falls on Reed’s lower torso and knocks the wind out of him.

The monitors in Doombase also shows that the destruction is worldwide, causing devastation to Zsaji’s village, and doing her an injury.

I assume Denver is also affected. I really want that miniseries focusing on Denverians during Secret Wars.

Colossus tries to tell Johnny that Zsaji has been hurt but Johnny’s attentions are elsewhere.

Human Torch: “I -- I’ve got no time for a chippie now! Reed’s hurt! I’ll send her a card later!”

Geez, Johnny.

Anyway, the fight between DOOM and the Beyonder is so so devastating that its threatening to snuff out the sun.

Which, if nothing else, is impressively bonkers.

But wherever Doom falters, the Beyonder doubles his assault.

Turns out that absorbing the energy of a spaceship the size of a solar system doesn’t make you a match for a guy that can casually wipe out a galaxy.

Doom: “Th-thus -- ? Thus falls Doom? No! No! What is pain to one such as I? I -- I will shut it out. Other men fall prey to the very spectre of death... when her cold embrace seems imminent... they simply swoon into her arms! But I... I am Doom! I -- I deny you, death! Victor von Doom must not die!”

He says this after his leg falls off. For the sake of context.

The world-shaking pauses and an image of Doom appears before the assembled heroes. Trying to come off as confident but blatantly holding his hat.

Doom: “Greetings! I am Doctor Doom! ... Though I am far more than the being you once knew! Indeed, I have transcended mortality -- and yet, I am your champion -- fighting for your sakes! I am about to crush the Beyonder!”

“The Beyonder, in his cosmic arrogance abducted us all and brought us here to do battle for his amusement! ‘Slay your enemies...!’ He said -- but in truth, he is the real enemy!”

“While he can reach us, our universe is not safe from his manipulations! He must be utterly defeated and sealed away beyond the portal before -- or destroyed! In the name of all who exist in our universe, I, Doom, have dared to attack the Beyonder!”

“The battle has gone well. Even now, the Beyonder cringes in terror, marshalling his failing strength against my final assault! Hence, this lull in the strife -- which has allowed me to appear to you and offer you the chance to share in my glorious conquest. Lend me your power! Hasten his certain defeat! Come! Who will join me against our common foe? You have but to touch my hand! Who shall be first?”

“To him, after our victory, I shall grant power beyond measure -- with which to further his noble purposes, of course! You know I speak the truth! You feel it, do you not?”

I mean, Doom has a point. The Beyonder IS the real enemy. If the heroes refuse to kill anyone, the Beyonder is never going to let them go home. Unless this is a secret test of character but nothing I’ve seen would lead me in that direction.

It’s just. Its Doom. Who would trust him with EVEN MORE PHENOMENAL COSMIC POWER?

Magneto immediately steps forward to offer his power to Doom’s service (womp womp) but he meets Xavier’s gaze and hesitates.

Long enough for several Avengers to tackle him away from Doom.

Proving his claim that the fight is definitely in the bag, Doom can’t maintain his GoFundMe hologram and fades away.

Hawkeye, one of the Avengers that tackled Magneto, starts yelling at the X-Men about the company they keep and what it will take for them to realize Magneto is a dick.

But Captain America interrupts Clint. He says that everyone was tempted by what Doom was offering and goes so far as to speculate that Doom was applying some sort of mind control to them and that Magneto just got the biggest dose.

This is all pretty unsubstantiated but he also does point out that Magneto hesitated to grab Doom’s hand and dammit that counts for something.

Meanwhile, Doom is having a bad time.

Trying to crowdfund a Beyonder defeat having not met its goal by the deadline, Doom is at the mercy of the Beyonder.

But the Beyonder is a curious cuss.

I mean, obviously. Why put on a Secret War unless you’re bored and curious.

The Beyonder starts prying into Doom’s brain and forces Doom to remember his ENTIRE BACKSTORY so he can watch.

You probably know it. Roma youth. His mom killed for witchcraft and her soul trapped by Mephisto. Doom studies magic and science to try to contact her. Makes a hellevator device that blows up in his face.

The Beyonder pries into Doom’s desires for: power over the destinies of other men, for freedom for his mom’s spirit, and for his putting on the piping hot mask face to be restored.

All these desires fascinate the Beyonder and he takes his dissection of the Beyonder to an unfortunately literal level and starts flaying Doom to peep his organs.

Meanwhile, the biggest shock yet hits Battleworld and Doombase starts shaking apart.

Captain America goes to free the villains trapped in their cells and finds Wolverine there who agrees that they shouldn’t leave the villains to die in cages, no matter what they’ve done. Magneto is also helping evacuate the captured villains from the medical wing.

Wolverine: “Don’t take this wrong... But you’re a better man than I gave you credit for! I’m an attacker an’ you’re a defender -- but we’re both soldiers! I’m beginnin’ to think you got room in your high-falutin’ ideals for all people... don’tcha -- ? Even if they’re mutants!”

Captain America: “Some of my best friends are people!”

Hah!

Anyway, RIP Doombase. You had a name and that’s more than I can say of the initial hero base or Magneto’s U-fort.

The shaking stops and a glowing orb of light floats down from space in front of the collected heroes.

Oh my god! The rest of the characters are 4-inch figures but Doom is rocking 24 inches and full articulation!

The heroes prepare to fight the Giant-Sized Doctor Doom but Doom bwoop bwoop bwoops back down to their scale and explains that absorbing the Beyonder caused him to be big because of reasons but he’s got a better handle on it now.

Its not shown on panel but remember Doom had his secret anti-Beyonder weapon hidden inside his armor and the Beyonder got real close when he was dissecting Doom. Which Doom regained consciousness during. So that’s how he did it.

Doom: “First, know you these things... The Beyonder no longer exists... and Doom has been reborn! Thus, have two evils come to an end! There is no enemy left to fight! THE WAR IS OVER!”

Caption: “Nonetheless, we strongly suggest that you read the next issue of Marvel Super Heroes Secret Wars on sale in thirty days!!”

Hah.

March, 1985

... AND DUST TO DUST!

I’ll give Marvel Super Heroes TM Secret Wars TM #11 this. It promises and teases THE FACE OF DOOM right on the cover and dammit, it delivers.

Gaze upon his generic attractiveness. He looks like Peter Parker having a wild eyebrow day.

I suppose the real surprise is that he fixed up his scarred face, which puts him two checkmarks into his three greatest desires.

He’s the supreme being in the universe and he’s got a face to match.

In a very reassuring manner, Doom tells the assembled heroes that he could destroy them all with a thought and then doesn’t bother destroying them.

Over in the distance, the freed villains see Doom talking with the heroes and Absorbing Man decides that Doom is selling out to the heroes. The other villains get their dander up at this and debate going over and kicking Doom’s ass.

Volcana: “I don’t know what to think, Owie! Doom is the one who made me into Volcana which is wonderful -- but, gee, he does seem to be double-crossing us!”

Molecule Man: “And I had such faith in him! I believe in him! I -- I’m furious!”

Volcana: “Now, Owie, remember your analyst said it wasn’t good to get overwrought!”

Molecule Man: “I don’t care what she said! I’m going to kill that lying, two-faced, rotten fink! Do you hear me, Doom? The Molecule Man is going to kill you!”

Then Molecule Man flips up several billion tons of the planet’s crust so he can have a conversation with Doom.

Doom just shows Molecule Man the foundations of eternity, the secrets of the universe, how all things work so that Molecule Man can realize that he is the second mightiest in the universe, after Doom.

Doom: “Think! Every molecule, every iota of matter in the cosmos answers to our whim! And all the forces which govern substance bend to your will -- for matter and energy are one and the same! The only limits on your power are those which you have imposed upon yourself, subconsciously because of self-doubt... self-hate... fear! Open your mind to the majesty of your power, Owen Reece! Accept your destiny... and fear no more!”

Molecule Man: “I -- I can control organic molecules! I can do... anything!”

Well.

This bodes something.

Doom then takes off and an amazed Molecule Man declares that he’s now the leader of the villain group. And considering he can peel the planet’s crust in a fit of pique, nobody really wants to say nay.

Molecule Man apparently didn’t want to hurt anyone so when he peeled up the crust, it somehow didn’t hurt any of the heroes. Just relocated them very insistently. Although if they stayed put they’d suffocate from the thin atmosphere.

They return to Doombase, which is somehow still standing. But aside from recapping the series, they really don’t know what to do until Doom makes himself known again.

The villains retreat to the suburb of Denver, Colorado and to the apartment belonging to Marsha Rosenberg (Volcana).

They decide that they don’t actually care about the Secret Wars anymore and just want to go home. And Molecule Man, being a good leader, decides to make this happen for everyone.

Man. I hope none of Denver’s population went wandering outside suburb limits before Molecule Man domed the suburb and chucked it into space.

The heroes spot it happening on their instruments (and because a chunk of planet being ejected into space causes a rumble) but there’s nothing they can really do about it. So Cap suggests everyone sleep on it.

Colossus can’t sleep because he keeps thinking about how deeply he is in love with Zsaji. So he ditches to zip to her village on an air jetski.

Missing a blob of light enter the Doombase and possess the Hulk.

Possessed Hulk lumbers around the base like a sleepwalker, being found by Spider-Woman who can’t sleep for worrying about her hometown of Denver.

She tries to stop Hulk with her psychic webs but he busts through and shoves her to the ground. The weird light blob goes from Hulk to Spider-Woman.

Hulk goes back to sleep and possessed Spider-Woman creeps into Doom’s lab and the discarded head of Klaw.

But there’s a flash of light and soon a confused Spider-Woman is telling the other heroes that Doom showed up, reassembled Klaw, unfroze Captain Marvel, oh and engraved an invitation to the heroes to meet him tomorrow at his sweet new tower.

Klaw: “I told you once -- ! I am my wildest dream! Dream! Eem, eem, eem...”

Doom: “I shall miss dreaming...”

He tells Klaw that he does not need sleep anymore and doesn’t dare sleep anymore because of the power contained in him.

Meanwhile, Colossus arrives at Zsaji’s hut while she’s sleeping and invites himself inside. Its creepy or romantic, shrug. She wakes up, he gives her flowers, and confesses he loves her.

Not really understanding the words but getting the gist, Zsaji seems into it.

I guess she gave up on Johnny. Or her people are polygamous.

Later, Wolverine and Nightcrawler gossip about Colossus’ love life. Neither very sympathetic about Colossus cheating on Kitty Pryde.

You’d think they’d also be unsympathetic about the age gap but eh.

Wolverine is also convinced that Colossus isn’t even REALLY in love with Zsaji, that its just a side-effect of her healing power. PLUS, she’s an alien so who knows what love means to her.

Hm. This really does look like a job for Cipher.

The non-Colossus heroes all go to meet Doom at THE TOWER OF DOOM, where Doom is quick to reiterate that they have nothing to worry about with Doom now possessing phenomenal cosmic power.

Doom: “Much has changed, Captain America! Much indeed! For, when I usurped the Beyonder’s power, slaying him -- in a way, Doom died as well! Now, I am all-powerful! I have nothing to prove to lesser creatures -- and none are my equal! I am complete... serene in my omnipotence! The dark, seething desires which once drove and shaped Doom are no more! Nothing in this universe -- nothing of which you can conceive, no matter how cosmic in scope -- could possible merit my attention! For as Eternity is to you... I am to Eternity! I have transcended all concerns of this plane of existence -- and, yet... we have unfinished business! Loose ends, if you will, left over from my mortal life! I cannot undo all of the evil works of my life without unraveling a great deal of the fabric of reality, causing enormous upheavals in the time/space continuum -- ! I can, though, easily set right some of the crimes of these few days past...”

Its good to see that Doom didn’t let becoming the unchallenged supreme being of the universe change him, at least in regards to words words words.

Anyway, he reintegrates Kang and sends the very confused future man home to the future.

He tells the heroes that Galactus has already been found and aided by his herald, Nova.

Which just leaves the wrong that Doom has done the heroes. He offers them a boon to atone for the suffering they’ve endured at his hands.

The heroes debate what to ask for. Spider-Man suggests that Doom can send them home only for Reed, perhaps peevishly, to remark that he can get them home. Nightcrawler suggests that Doom could find Lockheed, who was part of the intro cast but went missing near the beginning. But Captain America tells Doom that they want nothing from him.

Doom: “Very well! Our dealings are ended! Forever! Leave, now as you entered! Soon I shall ascend to higher planes! Until then -- and mark this -- I will not suffer any disturbance! Go... and do not seek to enter my presence again, for I will utterly destroy any who dare!”

Wow.

His magnanimity sure is short-lived.

The heroes do leave but outside Cap(tain America. Captain Marvel hasn’t had a line since she was unfrozen, I think) does a headcount and Spider-Woman is missing.

Despite the risk of Doom making good on his word to kill anyone that disturbs him, Cap won’t leave a comrade behind and reenters THE TOWER OF DOOM.

Cap stumbles onto Doom chilling with his shirt, mask, and boots off and luckily Doom is either in a good mood or hasn’t counted Captain America as leaving yet.

Captain America tells Doom that Spider-Woman is missing so Doom sends Klaw to go find her.

Klaw goes looking for Spider-Woman but runs into one of her webs. The missing, possessed hero grabs Klaw and transfers the blob of light to him.

Back at Doom having dressed up, maybe feeling awkward about being casual in front of anyone who isn’t Klaw, Doom reveals to Captain America that his mom’s spirit is being held captive by Mephisto and that Doom plans to free her.

Doom: “Is that little enough to ask? Little enough self-solicitude -- ? To free my mother’s soul from endless torment at the hands of an extra-dimensional demon! After that... it is as I said -- no affair of men -- or demons -- could possibly gain my notice!”

Cap comments that Doom is looking pretty human but Doom says its for everyone else’s protection that he keeps the power contained, lest he accidentally wipe out solar systems and galaxies.

Doom: “While I linger on this plane, I am like a giant on a world of ants! Every slight movement I make can seal the destinies of millions! I... do not wish to destroy anyone!”

Klaw returns and tells Cap where to find Spider-Woman so Cap goes off to retrieve her.

The heroes all take off back to Doombase and Cap asks Professor X to summon Colossus because there’s a decision to be made that everyone has to be present for.

Which leads to this delightful scene of Professor X interrupting Colossus as he’s making out with Zsaji.

Despite Colossus telling Xavier to buzz off, Xavier insists that Colossus return and alas duty before booty. Or something.

When Colossus arrives, the heroes all assemble in a conference room that Cap managed to find in Doombase.

Wasp doesn’t see the problem with Doom wanting to rescue his mother and Cap agrees that its a very humane and human thing to want and that in other circumstances Cap would have volunteered to help him.

But its the human that bothers Cap.

It gets back to Jim Shooter’s themes from his non-consecutive Avengers runs. Graviton, Nefaria, Korvac, Molecule Man, and Moondragon.

Godlike power in the hands of the all too human.

Captain America: “Doom claims he’s transcended all human desire! What if he hasn’t? We’ve seen the power of the Beyonder -- Doom’s power -- in action before! It is such power that even now, nothing in the universe can take place without his consent! That kind of authority rightfully belongs to... no man! No matter how enlightened or benevolent he’s become, freedom to do what Doom allows is not freedom!”

Cap is edging very close to ‘attack and dethrone god’ and I don’t know if he means to.

But as Cap points out, the first thing Doom did with his new power was to repair his face. Awfully human-like vanity.

Mr. Reed Fantastic concedes what Cap is getting at and agrees they need to force Doom to give up his power. And where Reed goes, so goes the rest of the Fantastic Three.

Which doesn’t tell you whether its a good idea or not considering they were both behind ‘let Galactus eat us all’ when Reed suggested it.

But the Avengers, the spiders, the Hulk, and the X-Men all agree as well.

Colossus is the last person to speak up and he suggests that if they attack Doom unprompted, maybe they’re the dicks. Doom may never harm them, may do what he’s said he’ll do and ascend to a higher plane of existence and contemplate gluons or whatever.

Captain America: “You may be right, son! I’m not dead certain about any of this! That’s why it must be a unanimous vote... or we do nothing! Don’t think you must agree! The choice is yours... Keep in mind, by the way, that if we do decide to confront Doom, it’s possible that we might be annihilated on the spot by a bolt from the blue!”

Wow, Cap isn’t just telling Colossus he can vote how he likes and not feel he must go with the majority. He’s also giving good reasons NOT to vote with the majority.

That Cap. He loves democracy so much.

Colossus struggles because he’s just found love and happiness and he never got to finish making out. And he’s being asked to possibly throw that all away unnecessarily!

Cap still won’t press Colossus one way or another so Colossus has to speak from the heart.

Colossus: “Forgive me, Zsaji... I say yes... We fight!”

He chose........... poorly?

Wonder what the last issue will be about now that half the cast is dead. Ignoring that we see several of these people alive in an issue set after this but published before.

Ignoring that. I wonder what the last issue will be about.

Good thing we don’t have to wait.

April, 1985

“...NOTHING TO FEAR...”

Okay, see, this is just making me wonder harder.

Hm. I also wonder if this is the first big moment where Captain America’s America Shield gets broken for dramatic effect. I know it happens again in Infinity Gauntlet but that’s some years away.

Anyway, yeah. The twenty-one hero characters and Magneto (twenty-one feels like A LOT, geez) have been totally killed forever and they will certainly stay dead.

To Zsaji’s alarm, since in a bit of establishing relative positions, she can see Doombase from the mountain near her village that Galactus set up his planet-eating equipment on.

Over at THE TOWER OF DOOM, Doom contains the power again.

Klaw: “Seal up the power -- god’s might in a can! Thus, Doom is just another man! But why?”

Doom: “Lest in a careless moment, a casual flick of my little figner might blacken a star system, or wipe out an intergalactic civilization. Lest, like Vishnu. ‘I am become death, the destroyer of worlds.’ This universe is too fragile!”

Klaw: “Such power! Such weight upon your shoulders! Poor Doom!”

Klaw questions whether the heroes are REALLY dead but Doom insists on it.

Meanwhile, Denver floating through space towards Earth.

I wanted to question... like... how much oxygen or food a Denver chunk could contain but Molecule Man laughs at logistics. He can just turn space dust into whatever he needs.

Man, Molecule Man would be great to have on a generation ship.

The villains are still chilling out in Volcana’s apartment, instead of taking over the largest building or whatever. Nice thing about Molecule Man being boss is that he doesn’t really approve of all of that.

Enchantress locks herself in the bathroom because dammit, sometimes you just need alone time to consult with a water elemental for some juicy exposition.

Because its issue 12 and we don’t know anything about the Beyonder really and Doom has already eaten him up so its now or never.

Honestly, time should have been budgeted for it earlier but what can you do.

The water elemental knows some things by gossiping with other spirits asks as price for her exposition that Enchantress “grant me power to walk through fields of flowers as mortals do” but Enchantress just threatens her into it.

She’s not a great boss.

Water Elemental: “In his realm, the Beyonder was everything and everything was him... and he was content! But by chance, an event in our universe opened a pinhole into his beyond-realm -- and through the pinhole he glimpsed the Earth! For the first time in his existence he became curious! So, he began to observe! For years, he watched the Earth! One thing confounded him above all else -- this incompleteness beings of our universe seemed to have -- this thing called... desire!”

So the Beyonder chose subjects of power, presence and palpable desire. The three P’s. And then he either raptured or lured into his game. The Beyonder sorted them according to the nature of their desires, which is why Magneto ended up with the heroes. Because his desire for mutantkind is like the altruistic desires of the heroes. Vs the personal desires of the villain group.

The Water Elemental recaps the war, including an image of Enchantress getting punched by She-Hulk, probably to piss her off. Yadda yadda, Doom played the larger game while everyone was doing punches and managed to usurp the Beyonder.

Water Elemental: “May I go down the drain now, please?”

Except no. Enchantress is still a bad boss and demands that the elemental use her rapport with the water on Battleworld to tell Enchantress whats going on now.

The elemental says she doesn’t have the power to do that so Enchantress dunks the elemental and boils some power into her.

Enchantress sees images of the heroes being effortlessly slaughtered, Klaw waiting on Doom as he relaxes, and Doom planning to invade Mephisto’s realm.

The last question Enchantress asks the rather haggard looking elemental is whether the Beyonder is truly dead.

Water Elemental: “N-no... he is close by Doom. But too weak to act... He is hiding where Doom would never suspect, awaiting an opportunity... a moment of vulnerability.”

Humorously, during this scene, the Absorbing Man starts banging on the bathroom door and asking Enchantress if she fell in.

In the living room, the Lizard is getting antsy about being cooped up.

Lizard: “RRAWRR! Out! Lizard wantss out of thiss humanss’ nesst! Musst be in sswamp! Lizard hates humanss!”

The Wrecking Crew just want to kill Lizard to spare the hassle but Volcana sticks up for him because its in her nature to take care of things. And in the same way he demonstrated with Wasp, Lizard folds into surly obedience as soon as someone is firm but nice with him.

Lizard isn’t the only one that’s antsy, as Dock Ock starts complaining and smashing the walls about how unlikely it is that they’ll ever reach home.

Doctorpus Octopus: “Don’t you fools realize the odds against us ever reaching Earth? An ant dropped in the middle of the Sahara would stand a better chance of getting to Hawaii!”

Molecule Man wanders in and tries to calm down the doctorpus while Enchantress lures Volcana away from the crowd.

Enchantress has decided that its time for Volcana to repay her debt for portaling her over to Molecule Man’s side after he was Wolverine’d. And the blank check cost she’s decided on is for Volcana to help Enchantress return to Asgard immediately to warn her people about the danger that Beyonder Doom poses.

And Volcana can help by ‘donating’ her life-force to power the teleport. And by donate, of course, she means, mystically contractually obligated.

Elsewhere, Molecule Man shows Doc Ock that he’s restored the stars in the galaxy that the Beyonder wiped out and that he’s been learning to do spacewarps too. And that’s how they’ll get home.

Doc Ock has some doubts so Molecule Man wraps him up in a nice, weighted blanket of asphalt and plans to turn him over to the authorities when they get back because he’s beginning to suspect that this supervillain may in fact may not be emotionally healthy.

Molecule Man realizes that Volcana isn’t around and Lizard who saw Enchantress pied piper her away leads MM to interrupt the Enchantress before she can finish draining Volcana or making fat jokes.

She makes a lot of fat jokes. Ffs Amora.

Enchantress teleport flees back to Battleworld but Lizard jumps after her and gets caught up in it.

He scratches her face so she throws him off a cliff.

And since mystically speaking, the Lizard counts as a “lower creature” Enchantress can just rip away his life-force and use it to fix her face and power an uncertain teleport to Asgard.

RIP the Lizard. Although I’m pretty sure you bounce back from this.

Meanwhile, in THE TOWER OF DOOM, Doom is napping while Klaw creeps on him creepily but Doom wakes up and yells at Klaw for letting him sleep.

Why, who knows what his subconscious would do with the Beyonder’s power in his dreams!

Klaw suggests hey maybe Doom would accidentally revive the heroes. Or maybe he already did? Hm?? In fact, Klaw has a theory and he’s going to use his sound hologram powers to put on a little demonstration for Doom.

He posits that Zsaji saw the destruction Doom wrought on Doombase (which we do know that she did do). She finds the... uh chunks that remain of the heroes and uses her healing powers to put them in stasis where cellular life still lingers. But she finds Colossus less damaged than the rest because he instinctively shifted to his armored form at the last instant. Surely his armored skin is better armor than, say, the Thing’s rock skin or Iron Man’s armor.

The story Klaw is telling works better this way so surely it is so.

Zsaji manages to bring Colossus wholly back to life, at the cost of her own.

A grief-stricken Colossus shoves Reed Richards into a healing tank (his elastic body also less damaged than the rest because sure, Reed Richards is more durable than the Hulk, we can just say anything).

So Reed is restored and he uses the technology of Doombase to invent a mass healing device and restores the rest of the heroes.

Klaw: “And they’re on their way here right now! The end... maybe!”

Doom: “Absurd! That couldn’t happen! The odds are impossible!”

Klaw: “Perhaps... but maybe you sort of... helped things along... Maybe you secretly subconsciously wanted them to survive... to rise from the ashes and live again!”

Doom: “You speak madness, Klaw!”

Klaw doubts though because Doom didn’t completely atomize the heroes and suggests turning on his god-mode and verifying that the heroes are really dead.

But now Doom is worried that having heard Klaw spell out a possible way for the heroes to be alive, his slightest doubt might make it so.

(I mean, I’m pretty sure that the light blob that’s possessing Klaw is the Beyonder who is gaslighting Doom for Reasons.)

Doom: “This is madness! I must drive these thoughts, these doubts, from my mind! They are dead! Dead! Dead! And yet... How many times in the past have I thought that Reed Richards was dead? And, if there were one man who might overcome the odds... is it not Captain America? No... no! THEY ARE DEAD!”

Klaw: “Then, again...”

Doom lets the Beyonder power well up but he can’t control it and it starts blasting Battleworld to shit and nearly destroyed all of reality. Doom can’t get his mind ordered and calm.

Klaw offers to destroy the heroes for Doom so Doom grants him “an infinitesimal micro-fraction” of his power, “enough to blacken ten thousand suns.”

GEEZ. I know that the Beyonder was established as being the strongest being in the universe, having come from a universe where all was the Beyonder. But that’s still very alarming.

The heroes rush in because after being murdered in an instant once already, subtlety is out the window.

Klaw intercepts them with a summoned army of monsters and also Ultron. Yes, Ultron is back, back again. Tell a friend. Tell them OH MY GOD RUN.

Then there’s a big two-page spread of everyone attacking everyone because that’s the kind of story this is.

Rad.

The Thing reverts back to meat man Ben Grimm but manages to will power the rocks back on and decides now he can control the changes and starts crying because this is everything he’s ever wanted.

Hulk goes punchies on Ultron but the robot does a plot injury to Hulk’s leg and for an encore makes Iron Man, Wolverine, and Spider-Woman look stupid before just falling apart.

Thanks to Wasp shrinking down, flying in one of the Hulk punch dents and just yanking wires. Yay, Wasp did a thing!

Also, she beat Ultron. She deserves to. Shame that not more can be made of it as a beat, what with everything going on.

Captain America manages to slip past all the monsters and jump kick his way past Klaw, although Klaw threw that little encounter.

Cap reaches where Doom is once again chilling, although this time with his clothes on.

Doom brags that there’s nothing that the heroes can do to harm him in any way, after all, what is a man to one who is omnipotent?

Captain America: “I wouldn’t be too sure about that! After all... you conquered the Beyonder! And why would you have gone through the trouble of killing us in the first place, unless... you were afraid!”

Doom doesn’t like having holes poked in his arguments so he kamehamehas Cap into ashes.

But Cap respawns out of sheer ‘I can do this all day’ness and charges at Doom to be blasted and respawned again.

Okay, so its Klaw who keeps respawning Cap, while letting Doom think its his own stolen power running out of control that keeps doing it.

And having Cap keep popping back into existence and trying to hit him in the face with a metal disc makes Doom lose his every last shit.

The power starts to overtake him and threaten the universe so Cap offers his hand, to serve as an anchor to reality for Doom.

Oh, hey. Just like Cap offered Doom his hand in the first issue but Doom turned it down because he hates pity.

But now, with omnipotence raging out of control, Doom reaches to accept Cap’s hand.

Thems some nice bookends.

Except the feeble remnant of the Beyonder that’s been body hopping bursts out of Klaw and reclaims his power from Doom.

Unpossessed Klaw: “Doom! Doom! Forgive me, Doom! The Beyonder, he took over my body -- ! He used my guile, my wits, my cunning to engineer this! I set you up for this! Doom -- ! I’m so sorry!”

The Beyonder reverts Doom’s armor (and face) back to how it was and then ejects him from the plot. Klaw jumping in to be with his master.

Actually, the Beyonder nopes out of the plot as well. Just kinda abandons this grand experiment into the concept of desire.

And to be fair, half the competitors fucked off. The other half refused to actually kill. And one of the competitors jumped off the board game to steal the Beyonder’s wallet.

At that point, escaping before you have to answer any questions is the right move.

With the fight over, there’s just a whole bunch of wrap-up.

Colossus has a funeral for Zsaji and buries her on the hill overlooking Doombase because fuck those villagers, she probably didn’t have any friends or loved ones who should have a say in this.

While RICHARDSS goes to work on a way home, Spider-Man swings around Doombase for a snack of alien eggplant. Then finds everyone else in the costume making machine room where Professor X has.

Uh.

Made some fashion choices.

Won’t anybody stop him?

Anyway, he intends to keep undermining Storm when they get back to Earth. What a guy.

Spider-Man also learns that none of their costumes respond to thought like his new black costume does and wonders what’s different about his.

Hulk’s leg was busted up by being Ultron’d and his gamma levels have risen so much that they’d short out the healing pods. So Reed makes Hulk a techno crutch and leg brace to help him get around until his natural healing factor takes care of things.

He’s not very pleased at the situation though and snaps at Hawkeye, leading Hawkeye to a thought that hits a lot different post Civil War II.

Hawkeye: “Whoa! Has he ever changed in the last few days! I think he’s losing it -- becoming totally savage and out of control again! Man, I hope I’m wrong! Maybe I’d better make myself a few more arrows -- some real heavy-duty ones -- just in case!”

Curt Connors wanders in and tells a story about waking up in a crater a few miles from the fortress. He says that he’s sure this time the lizard-persona is totally gone forever for reals.

Nightcrawler says its good that Connors found them before they departed so he wouldn’t get left behind, then mentions that Lockheed the dragon would return.

And boom! Lockheed the dragon returns with a lady dragon!

He’s been getting laid this whole time, the little scamp! I assume! Either way, he has contributed absolutely nothing to anything that happened.

Reed decides that Lockheed and Connors showing up isn’t just a coincidence, that the Beyonder left some trace energy behind when he quit the plot. And that the energy is causing a wish fulfillment phenomenon (which sorta makes sense if you think of it like the promise Beyonder promised to fulfill the winners’ desires?)

Mr. Fantastic: “I believe that this... ‘wish fulfillment’ phenomenon we’ve been experiencing is an after-effect of the battle against Doom! The planet itself seems to have been charged with residual energy whichs seems to respond to strong desire, or force of will!”

Cap(tain America) immediately takes off to where he’s keeping all the fragments of his broken shield that he’s been able to find and wishes REALLY hard for it to be fixed.

“It was the product of a freak metallurgical accident -- a metallic disk of unknown composition, and unique properties -- utterly impervious to any force or instrument which humans comprehend. But now it lies before him like a wounded friend... How many times has it saved his life? And now... it’s usefl life is at an end, for no fire could melt it, no furnace could reforge it. It is forever broken... unless by force of will... or sheer desire... He can accomplish the impossible!”

Hey, how about that!

I mean, you could have wished Bucky back to life but on the other hand, it’s a real sweet shield. I get it.

Although, in terms of the pre-post Secret Wars issue teasing what could happen in it (Hulk with a leg brace, She-Hulk with the FF, Spider-Man’s new costume), I really think that Steve should have returned from Battleworld with the broken shield.

Almost everything that’s gonna be brought back from Secret Wars is going to have to be abandoned or turn out to be evil.

It’s going to turn out (years later, mind) that Steve fixed his shield bad with his FORCE OF WILL and that for some reason, imperfections in the shield threaten to destroy ALL VIBRANIUM.

And that’s a decent story, probably.

Just saying, you could have Cap return with a broken shield and get that ‘how did that happen’ hype. Its a really intriguing idea. Although, I’d bet that breaking Cap’s shield was only thought up after the pre-post Secret Wars issues had already been done so it had to be introduced and rectified in Secret Wars itself.

Some other things that didn’t last long from Secret Wars: we already know the black goo costume didn’t even last through Secret Wars. The modifications Reed made to the Iron Man armor stop working when Rhodey returns to Earth, then they evolve into the evil Carnivor and fights Quasar in Quasar. Hulk ditches his leg brace two issues after his return to Earth. Connors turns himself back into the Lizard to save his family a couple years after Secret Wars. And so on.

So the time comes to return everyone back to Earth with the device Reed made. It teleports them in small groups up to the ring-shaped construct that got them to Battleworld where it will teleport them to Earth.

Reed beams up the unaffiliated group first of Spider-Man, Spider-Woman, Curt Connors, Hulk, and Magneto who decided he’s too cool to hang with the X-Men on the ride home.

Next, the X-Men. Although they have to talk Colossus into coming home instead of being sad on a hill forever by convincing him that he’d be wasting the life Zsaji gave him if he didn’t come home.

Colossus letting Xavier talk him into sticking with the X-Men over greater and greater personal losses eventually becomes a sore point.

Lockheed’s girlfriend flies into the teleport as Reed initializes it, causing a dramatic energy fluctuation that Reed hopes won’t cause any problems on Earth.

It does.

Puff the tiny dragon becomes Puff the enormous dragon, and menaced Japan in her quest to mate with Lockeed. The X-Men had to fight her and Lockheed eventually rejected the now much bigger dragon causing her to explode.

Although she came back to life at some point and she and Lockheed did get back together.

X-Men is a weird book.

The Avengers are up next but She-Hulk tells them that she’s joining the Fantastic Four. Now this happened because Byrne made grabby hands at her and Stern didn’t say no but its not really satisfactorily built-up in this story.

Ben and She-Hulk don’t share many moments to establish that they have a good friendship that he could ask her to take his place on the team. In fact, the last time I know of them teaming up, she was a huge sex pest to him. So it makes it even more baffling.

But it happened in the pre-post issue so its gotta happen.

And Ben asks Jen (maybe the similar names is why he asks her? They can get away with only changing a single letter on his locker) because he’s going to stay behind on Battleworld because he can control his powers here.

He’s not planning on being here forever and Reed can leave the gizmo so Ben can return whenever he wants.

What makes this stupid is that like almost everything involving Ben, Reed knows a lot more about what’s going on and just doesn’t say anything. He starts to but doesn’t insist when Ben tells him not to try to change his mind.

The thing about the Thing is that Ben should always have been able to Rock On or Rock Off as he pleased but there’s a psychological block preventing it.

Ben would lose this control before leaving Battleworld and he quits the FF when he learns that Reed knew that it was a psychological issue.

Mr. Fantastic: “If only I could tell him what I suspect about his transformations -- but it’s the kind of thing that might shatter a man... even a strong man like Ben! No, better to say nothing... and hope he slowly discovers the truth for himself... Or hides from it forever!”“

Geez.

You’re so bad at people.

Anyway. Yeah. Needed some more build-up. Maybe centered around the transformation. Jen could sympathize. She used to have trouble controlling her hulk outs before she just decided to be She-Hulk all the time.

Anyway, this big ridiculous thing (the last issue was 43 PAGES LONG) ends with Ben being thoughtful on a rock.

And that brings us back to Avengers #243.

I guess he’s not alone because Zsaji’s village is still here, maybe? Is nobody going to send them home??

Follow @essential-avengers​ because FINALLY I can get back to just focusing on the Avengers. Phew. Please like and reblog. This took so much effort.

[noncommited-writer]

i know

Starker — Another prompt I chose for myself.

Prompt: Grumpy Morning Heads

A/N: I had fun with this even though it is quite short. I wanted to explore a little more of the ‘established relationship’ part of Starker and how older Peter ties into it, especially because he isn’t as naive or young.

Tags: Fluff, established relationship, slight Steve Rogers bashing, protective Peter, mention of sex.

Peter puts his hands over his eyes, cursing Friday under his breath for allowing such an abrupt wake-up call—at least compared to yesterday morning when she chimed in with a soft ‘It’s morning, Boss, past your usual circadian rhythm.’

What’s the point of it being their vacation if they can’t sleep in, wake anytime they want. That’s the whole point of taking a break—allowing a pause in the throes of superhero life, especially when their sleep schedules are unbelievably messed up almost daily.

Sunbeams hit his bare skin, warmth crawling across his body in contrast to the white cool sheets under his hands. The drowsiness under his eyelids wisp away the longer he sees the light shine through the big windows. For once, he wishes Tony didn’t have an obsession with walls made of glass.

“Tony,” he whispers. The man next to him in the bed, still tangled in the weighted blanket, grumbles.

“Tell Friday to—” a yawn is ripped out of Peter’s mouth, “—close the windows.”

“Do you mean the curtains, Mr. Parker?” Friday’s wry tone fills the room. Smart-ass A.I. She really is one of Tony’s creations. Peter can only imagine how insufferable Ultron must have been.

He snorts and waves a hand lazily. “Yeah, sure. Whatever. It’s too early to be this bright.”

“It’s eleven thirty-two, Mr. Parker.”

Peter groans, and slaps a hand over his face. If it must be, he supposes.

He turns over to Tony first, placing a soft kiss on his forehead which illicit a smile from the older man. Peter then rolls to his side, sitting up at the edge of the bed. He stretches, satisfied when he’s heard at least four joints pop, then gets to his feet. He’s glad they shared a shower before getting back into bed because of there’s one thing he hates, it’s waking up covered in dried fluids, smelling of sex.

He shuffles to the kitchen, still yawning and shaking off the last of fatigue in his muscles. He’s lucky he has enhanced healing otherwise he’d be so sore that he wouldn’t even be able to make it to the kitchen.

His hand idly grabs for a mug, and he huffs a soft laugh when he sees which one it is. A kitten wearing Iron Man booties printed over the front of the cup, peering at the camera with big blue eyes. He saw it when he walked past a gift shop. There was a rack full of superhero themed items. Peter couldn’t help melting and laughing at the same time when he saw the mug.

“Coffee is ready,” Friday says, a much softer lilt to her voice compared to her voice in the bedroom a moment ago. Peter supposes it was meant more to irritate Tony than him.

“Thanks, Fri. You’re a peach.” Peter beams at the camera in the corner, and he swears he can hear the lights in the room hum louder—as if the building were purring in satisfaction.

He adds in the usual—two teaspoons of sugar and milk (Tony is always appalled when he sees Peter making his coffee)—and he crosses the kitchen to reach yet another glass wall.

It’s a little ironic. Glass walls for one of the most closed off people. Peter huffs a small chuckle into his coffee. But maybe that isn’t it. Because Tony is one of those people who never stops wearing his heart on his sleeve. It’s always clear to Peter when Tony is struggling or hurt. Tony makes sure to let his troubles be known, even if it hurts to be vulnerable, cracked open. It’s what makes Tony heroic. He’s always laying his life��and his heart—on the line, even if other people don’t see it.

Peter’s fingers tighten around his mug.

People like Rogers.

“Hey, sweetheart, is that coffee I smell?” Two toned arms slide around Peter’s waist, and immediately the tension leaks out, eyes opening despite not remembering closing them. Tony pauses behind him.

“Is something wrong?”

Brown eyes stare at him, concerned, through the reflection of the glass. Peter quirks his lips, almost dry. “No. Nothing.”

Tony presses his lips to Peter’s shoulder, not breaking their eye contact. “C’mon. You can tell me anything.”

Peter sips his coffee, laying his free hand over Tony’s warm embrace. He sucks on his teeth, a flash of irritation flickering over his face. “Thinking about how much of an asshole Rogers is.”

He feels a smile press into his shoulder.

“Still protective, huh?”

Peter chuckles, pulling on one of Tony’s hand to kiss his fingertips, intertwining their hands. “How can I not be? He’s such… such a dick!”

Tony laughs, a soft tickling sound that wraps Peter up in warmth, better than his hold does.

Tony rests his chin over Peter’s shoulder, staring at both of their reflections with heated reverence. He sighs, tugging on Peter until they’re flushed.

Peter can feeling the hard beating of Tony’s loving heart through his pajamas, and he can’t stop himself from melting into his boyfriend.

“Fuck Rogers,” Peter mumbles. Tony laughs again, kissing the nape of Peter’s neck.

Peter still remembers how utterly broken the centennial left Tony, wounds that go beyond physical hurt. His trust, his heart was broken, and the damn private

(—he isn’t even a real captain)

left Tony to pick up the remaining pieces. Cut a hole through his suit and his will. Peter wasn’t there when Tony had to fix everything—still too young back then, too naïve to truly love Tony yet—but he wishes he was. He wishes he helped in the painful healing process, wishes he was there when Tony needed someone. Sure, he had Pepper, Rhodes, Happy, hell even Aunt May because they built some sort of affinity after she found out about Spider-Man, but he knows it wasn’t even close to let the gaping scars heal properly.

Even when they first started dating (only halfway through his college years), there was this air of unresolved hurt, unfinished business that Peter knew he shouldn’t tangle himself with. But he did anyway, and doesn’t regret any of it. He only wishes he was there earlier.

“You’re here now, you know.” Tony tightens his hold. A shuddering breath is pulled from Peter. God, it’s as if Tony can read his mind.

“You don’t have to hold that over your head. You shouldn’t, sweetheart. It was my problem and I was the only one who could myself out of it.”

Peter sighs, sipping his coffee to take a moment to gather his wits. “I know. I just… wished I was there a little earlier.”

Tony’s wistful smile twists Peter’s heart. “No, Peter. If anything, you came into my life at the perfect time.”

Tony spins him around in his arms, and doesn’t give a second for Peter to breathe before they’re kissing.

It’s the exact opposite of what it was like last night. That was passionate, carnal, almost selfish. This is soft, gentle, warm and everything that Peter feels whenever Tony is around. It’s loving and forgiving, a stark contrast to what their tense relationship was like at the beginning.

“I love you,” Peter mumbles against Tony’s lips. The man only presses his forehead to his, a small smirk on his lips.

“I know.”

Peter snorts. “You Han Solo’d me?”

Tony kisses him again, and Peter can feel him shaking a little bit in laughter. Once he pulls away, that’s when he says, “I love you too, Pete. And nothing in the world can change that.”

[pandastern]

Gravity (Bakugou x OC)

Part 3: A Step too far? (past)

Bakugou x Vigilante!OC

Warnings: angst, explicit language, violence

Word count: 2200

Genre: enemies to lovers ; angst ; romance

When a new student makes an entrance, Bakugou has a real bad feeling. There is something about this girl that just doesnt feel right. From the flaming hair to the calculating glint in her green eyes, everything about her just pisses him off.

Little does he know that his fate is intertwined with the person he despises so much, defining his future path in a way he would have never expected.

Maybe it was because class 1A knew Bakugou better than Artemis did, or maybe it was because the little scene she’d caused in the cafeteria hadn’t gone unnoticed, but as she slowly made her way into the ring, all her classmates seemed to hold their breath.

All except for the ash blonde pissy pomeranian with anger issues. Bakugou looked ecstatic.

“Oh, I'm gonna kick your ass so bad you won’t be able to walk for a week!” he hissed.

Judging by his murderous eyes, she figured she was heading straight to a situation any normal person with a normal sense of self-care would want to avoid. Tough luck, though. She wasn’t a normal person. Sometimes she wasn’t even sure if she was a person to begin with.

“Now, now. That almost sounds like a proposition,” she chuckled.

Bakugou’s expression changed. Now he just looked like he wanted to tear her throat out. Lovely.

“Artemis.” Aizawa’s voice interrupted her little moment with Mr Anger Issues. “Neither you nor Bakugou know the other’s quirk. Why is this a perfect example for what you can expect as a Pro Hero, and why is it a good lesson?”

Tearing her eyes away from her opponent, Artemis focused on her teacher again. 

She scoffed. “We need to be ready for any type of quirk because we often go into the field blind. You cannot choose who to face on the battlefield.”

Her nonchalant tone made a brow rise on Aizawa’s usually bored face. A few hairs on the back of her head started to rise. So, her first impression of this man had been correct. He was a dangerous one.

“Correct,” Aizawa replied, pulling out a tablet. “Let's see how you pull your weight, newbie. Begin!”

Artemis took a deep breath and turned her attention back to her opponent. A devilish smirk had spread across Bakugou’s face. He was ready to throw down.

“Come at me!” he roared, his voice booming with confidence. “I'll show you what a real hero can do.”

She narrowed her eyes. The air around her was rather dry, so not much water could be drawn out of it. There were no fountains or bodies of water she could use, nor had she brought any herself. There were, however, trees and grass close to the ring. So, how best to start this?

Judging by what she’d seen of Bakugou, he was so full of himself that he probably didn’t expect much of her. She could draw out the water from the vegetation, but that would turn them into dust. Artemis shook her head. No, Aizawa probably wouldn’t appreciate her destroying school property, even if it was to defend herself.

Her best bet was to move fast and punch Bakugou as hard as she could. Preferably somewhere it really hurt.

Artemis moved. Keeping herself low to avoid exposing an opening, she rushed forward, swinging for his ribs on his right side. Bakugou was quick to read her movements and dodged, trying and failing to grab her by the scruff of her neck. She brought her foot forward and spun out of the way, plunging her elbow into his abdomen. At least, that’s what she thought she was hitting.

Something exploded in her side, sending her flying several feet. White pain exploded in her head as she hit the ground like a sack of flour, too shocked to roll her own body to avoid a harsh landing. The blast had knocked the wind out of her.

What the hell had just happened?

Bakugou’s laugh rang in her ears as she forced herself back onto her feet. Then it dawned on her. The weird scent of nitroglycerin in the cafe finally made sense.

“How’d you like that, fucking loser? Is that all you got?” Bakugou spat at her.

“So, an explosion quirk, huh?” she growled.

“Yeah so what? What do you think you're doing by not using your quirk against me? Do you think you can win like that? I’ll grind you into the dust, just watch!”

The familiar feeling of anger bubbled up in the pit of her stomach. This guy was really starting to piss her off. But he was right. Going against a power that could literally blow her up wasn’t really something she should take lightly. 

Grinding her teeth, Artemis shrugged off her singed jacket and rolled her shoulders. It looked like protecting school property was out the window, then.

“You want my quirk?” she growled. “Fine. Suit yourself.”

Bakugou charged at her, his speed boosted by another blast of his power, but this time Artemis was prepared. Reaching out with her powers, she spun to the side, evading his fist before grabbing hold of the water molecules in the air, a couple of trees and the grass surrounding her. She concentrated the liquid into a powerful blast and sent it racing towards her opponent.

Bakugou was caught of guard, the powerful blast pulling him off his feet, encasing him in a whirlpool and swirling him around like a shirt in a washing machine before smashing him back on the ground on the other side of the ring.

Watching him sputter and shake himself like a doused poodle, Artemis couldn't help but smirk.

“What's wrong, blasty boy?” she cooed, pulling the water back to herself, swirling it around her body like snakes. “Can’t swim?”

Bakugou glared at her, eyes blazing. Artemis could see that she had struck a nerve right there. Perhaps he wasn’t into her nickname. The swirling wisps of water separated from her body and morphed into needles of ice that surrounded her, their sharp spines pointed at Bakugou.

The palms of his hands started to smoke.

“I'm gonna kill you,” he hissed.

Artemis charged. Water and heat clashed as they exchanged blows, explosions scattering her ice needles before she hit him with another blast of water. They couldn’t have been more opposite in character and fighting style. Bakugou moved with the aggression of a hellflame while Artemis danced away, spinning, dodging his swings and landing her own blows in between blasts.

That was when she noticed something: the angrier this guy got, the hotter and faster his blasts came. The downside to her quirk was that she never had an infinite amount of water to draw upon, unless of course it was raining or she was fighting in a body of water. With every blast of Bakugou’s explosion more and more water evaporated. Damnit. If she didn’t get him on his knees soon, she’d run out of a means to protect herself, let alone attack. She had to admit, Katsuki Bakugou was an outstanding fighter.

“Where the hell do you think you’re looking?” A booming voice behind her ripped her out of her thoughts. How the hell had he gotten behind her in just a split second?

White light and heat exploded right in her face, hurling her through the air for a second time. Her body hit the ground with a nasty smack and she wheezed. The impact of her fall had squeezed the air out of her lungs and for a moment the world went blurry.

Bakugou breathed heavily as he watched the flame-haired girl writhe on the ground,struggling to take a breath. He had to give it to her, she was tough. Her quirk was something he’d never seen before. Where had she got all that water from in the first place? Then he noticed the dried up trees close by, along with big patches of dried up grass. Even the ground was cracked as if it hadn’t rained in years. Had she pulled it out of her surroundings like that? 

He heard Artemis curse as she struggled to her feet, and he narrowed his eyes. That last blast should have been enough to give her a proper concussion, and yet here she was back up on her knees, trying to steady herself. The water around her sprung alive again, swirling around her body protectively.

Her red hair had sprung free of its hair tie, falling wild and messy around her face. Then he noticed a good patch of the right side of her hair had been burned off by the heat of the blast.

He watched as Artemis slowly pushed a hand into her wild locks and pulled a good chunk of melted hair out of her bird’s nest.

Laughter bubbled up in his chest. “Well, seems like you finally got a nice haircut! Keep this up and you won’t have to worry about that crazy colour of yours.”

Artemis didn’t move. She just stared at the chunk of hair in her hand as if she were struggling to process what had just happened.

“What’s wrong, carrot head?” Bakugou taunted. “Have you had enough? Are you gonna cry about it like a little bitch?”

For a moment, the whole world seemed to stand still. Slowly, the girl rose to her feet. Then her eyes met his.

A chill ran down Bakugou’s spine, and he took a step back. There was a look in her freaky green eyes that made his stomach churn, as if a switch had been flipped and in front of him was no longer a 15 year old girl but something different, something wrong. Artemis’ eyes held no emotion. No humanity. Just a cold and endless void. There was death in her eyes.

His death.

A strange sensation bubbled up in his gut, making him shiver. Run… He had to run. Everything in him screamed to turn away and forfeit the fight, yet he couldn't move. He was like a deer in headlights waiting to be charged.

Suddenly, the ground beneath his feet started rumbling. The concrete cracked, then broke wide open as water tendrils shot through the stone, grabbing at him.

“Fuck!” he gasped. 

He propelled himself into the air, trying to evade whatever hell this girl had summoned. The water followed him up, encircling him like a snake, wrapping around his body, choking him, crushing him, extinguishing his explosions and rendering him helpless. Was she gonna drown him?

Then his eyes met hers again. Artemis was standing calmly where he’d last seen her. Her eyes were completely focused on him with a determination that made his blood freeze. In her hands was a bow made of swirling water, and she was aiming an arrow right between his eyes.

Bakugou tried to struggle against his restraints, tried to break free. He knew Artemis would shoot him without hesitation. This girl wanted him dead. Fear made his head spin. There was no way out, no way out!

The sound of a bowstring being released and an arrow slicing through air made his stomach drop. As if in slow motion, he saw the deadly projectile race towards him, ready to split his head like an overripe apple. All he could do was close his eyes and wait for the impact.

“Enough!” 

Aizawa’s voice echoed through the training ground.

The feeling of a sudden vaccum of power made Artemis’ stomach turn. Her knees buckled and she sank to the floor, shaking.

The red mist of rage that had made her feel so incredibly hazy started to clear, and slowly feeling returned to her. The sound of human voices, the echo of hearts shaken up by fear, pounded in her ears.

What had happened? The last thing she remembered was Bakugou’s blast sending her flying, the pain of having the wind knocked out of her, a handful of burned hair… and rage. Cold, deadly rage.

“F-fuck,” she rasped and curled up, trying not to vomit.

When she finally managed to look up, her eyes met the red ones of her teacher.

“This is a training session. A non-lethal training session!” he snarled.

She didn’t know what to say to that. Disgust bubbled up inside of her as she looked around and saw the carnage she’d created. Somehow in her rage, her quirk had taken control of the water that was running underground through pipes and had burst them, forcing the water upwards to attack bakugou.

The ash blond boy was on his hands and knees, sputtering and gasping for air.

Artemis realised that she’d gone too far.

She needed to get out. She needed to get away.

“I-im sorry… I… I’m sorry,” was all she managed to stutter.

Bakugou was being helped back onto his feet by a boy with spiked up red hair. His eyes met hers. The look in his crimson eyes told her everything she needed to know.

Artemis’ heart almost stopped. If Aizawa hadn’t stepped in, then she’d have… No… No.

“The class is dismissed,” the teacher growled. “Everyone go home. Bakugou, go get yourself checked out. As for you…”

But Artemis was gone. Aizawa’s eyes scanned around, catching a glimpse of red hair just before it disappeared behind a building. A groan rumbled in his chest. He’d have to go after her later. For how, he had to explain to the principal why the training grounds were in shambles. Fun. Why did he always end up with the most troublesome kids?

Something stirred in his gut as he remembered the look in Artemis’ eyes before she’d snapped. There was no denying it. Something wasn’t quite right with that girl.

[rynhaswritersblock]

peter! from physics!

a/n: this is gonna be one of those shitty fics where y/n and peter are so oblivious that they can't recognize each other's voice I'M SORRY!! also cindy moon is in this but she DOES NOT have powers for this imagine :/ srry

summary: y/n can't be controlled by wallets, peter parker gets crushes too easily, and crime in new york is abnormally low

warnings: the usual cussing, also the usual fluff. in conclusion i write the same shit every time LMAO

+ + +

"hey!" you yell, hands crossed over your chest as you look over the edge of the building, the blue and red figure jumping as he webs a perp to the wall. he looks up at you, the wide white eyes of his mask almost making you laugh as they squint. "aren't you stark's boy?"

"huh?"

the sound of a web latching onto the concrete next to you makes you flinch. spider-man flips himself onto the rooftop next to you, standing and facing you.

"you. stark. didn't he just recruit you?"

"how'd you know?"

his voice is light and incredibly boyish. he stares at you, trying to figure you out.

"well, you're not wearing pajamas anymore," you shrug, traces of humor in your words.

"yeah," the boy nods, "that makes sense."

a moment of silence fills the space between you, the sounds of traffic and people walking filling the background. you turn, sitting on the edge of the roof and dangling your legs. peter stands there for a second, frozen, feeling completely awkward and unsure of what to do.

"so, uh, how long have you been-"

"shadow?"

"yeah," he mutters, sitting beside you.

"almost a year, now," you breathe. the city-scape surrounding the two of you was quite astonishing, actually. all of your outside, mid-western family never understood your parents for moving out to new york, which is, in their words, "the big CRAPple." you don't care, though. it's home.

"cool," the hero mutters under his breath, repeating the word quietly, making you smile underneath the mask.

"you?"

"huh?" the large white eyes gaze at you, his head tilted slightly. "oh. bit over half a year, i think."

"and stark already pulled you in, huh."

the words confuse peter. was that an insult, somehow? were you jealous? the boy certainly thought you were much cooler than him-- energy and light manipulation seemed much more interesting to him than being a human spider.

"what do you-"

"shit," you seethe, head turned away from the boy in red and blue and instead toward the sound of sirens. "gotta go!"

peter's stuck in place as he watches your silhouette flip and twist as you fall off the ledge, white wisps of energy circulating around you as you use your powers to break the fall.

"jeez," he mutters in astonishment.

he stays on the ledge for a minute, in his traditional spider stance, ready to swing over and help you, if needed. yet, something about the way you immediately brought down the robber made him feel like he was okay to go.

it wasn't a long way to headquarters. ever since his recruitment, tony stark had been, as peter put it, "on his ass." every time he went patrolling, he'd have to go to headquarters, give a report, and get a checkup on his suit.

'protocol,' as tony put it.

"identification?" FRIDAY asks.

"it's me, fri."

"welcome, peter."

the doors open and peter walks in, sighing as he rips off his mask. sam, walking by, jumps and steps back, eyes wide and sparkling with mischief.

"shit! bucky, there's a spider in here!"

"get over it you cowar- oh, hey, pete!" bucky smiles and gives peter's messy curls a quick ruffle. "what's with the shit-eating grin?"

the grin drops from peter's face. how long was that there?

"oh, nothing, i, uh, need to see mr. stark," he clears his throat, giving an awkward nod before walking off in the direction of the lab.

"nothing my ass," sam mutters, taking a bite of fruity pebbles out of bucky's bowl.

bucky gasps. "hey!"

+ + +

"hey, mr. stark," peter chimes, tossing his mask on the nearest table. "let's get this over with."

"why such a rush all the time, pete?" the man asks, raising his brows at the boy. "you're fifteen, you have all the time in the-"

"sixteen, actually."

tony gives him a look and scoffs. "whatever."

the two follow the ordinary routine: plug the suit into FRIDAY's system, get it scanned, and, of course, debate star wars and physics theories in the meantime.

"i'm telling you, han sacrificed himself."

"yeah," peter huffs, "said the one who didn't see it coming when darth vader was revealed to be luke's father."

"well at least i'm not a total nerd."

"look around! you have an entire lab dedicated to nerd projects and superhero stuff. the complete epitome of being a total nerd."

tony lets out a defeated breath, subtle smile on his face as he watches the footage from peter's suit upload to the system and appear through the hologram. the grin drops as he focuses on the video, zooming in.

"you were with shadow?"

"oh, yeah!" peter says, perking up, the grin returning to his face. "what's the deal with her, by the way? she-"

"single? don't be a simp, pete."

peter's eyes widen and he looks at the man. "i'm not even gonna... no- uh- okay. what i was gonna say is: she mentioned you and was like 'stark already pulled you in, huh' and it was kinda weird, like she was.. i don't know, salty about it, or something."

a laugh sounds out from tony. "she turned me down, kid."

peter's brows furrow. "turned you- what?"

"i'd asked her to join the team a few months after she'd first started out- same timeline as you, actually- but she declined. had this whole 'ms. independent' thing going on. quite a shame, actually, i set out a room for her and everything."

well if that didn't slightly strike a chord with peter. he didn't realize that he wasn't the only teenager tony'd tried to recruit. he squints at the ground for a second, wrapping his head around all of the new information.

"wait, if she didn't accept the offer, then how is her suit-"

"she was independent enough to turn me down, kid, don't you think she's capable of using a sewing machine?"

+ + +

"cindy, shut up," you seethe, failing at your attempt not to laugh.

"ms. warren doesn't care and we already know this stuff," she giggles quietly, doodling on your notebook. a horrid laugh bubbles from your throat, your attempt to be quiet turning it into a weird noise that only furthers your laughter.

nonetheless, and much to your relief, ms. warren continues with the lesson, babbling about gravity pendulums.

"okay, so how do we calculate linear acceleration between points a and b?" the woman asks.

you knew the answer. didn't feel like speaking, though. cindy simply mutters the answer under her breath and you nod, resting your chin on your hand.

"flash."

"it's the product of sine of the angle and gravity divided by the mass," the boy states, looking over at your table and winking at the two of you. you stick your tongue out at him.

"nope," ms. warren replies, making you and cindy snicker and raise your eyebrows, pouting playfully at the boy's upset expression.

"peter, you still with us?"

you lean back in your seat, catching a glimpse of the boy. somehow, in a school filled with nerds, peter parker managed to get himself shoved to the lower end of the social ladder. he was constantly donned in button-ups, sweaters, and graphic tees bearing geeky science puns. moreover, up until a few months ago, there was a pair of slightly-too-large glasses thrown into the mix.

not that it was a bad thing, though. out of all the boys with that same stereotype, peter parker most definitely pulled it off best. he was quiet, kind, incredibly smart, and, not to mention, hot as hell.

at least in your opinion.

"uh... uh," peter mutters, scrambling to close the laptop sitting in front of him, giving you a better view of his face. "ye- yeah."

you adjust yourself in your seat, facing forwards once again and burying your head in your arms. being single all your life certainly makes your mind drift and heart swell at the sight of cute boys.

"uh... mass cancels out, so it's just gravity times sine."

cindy snickers at you and your overwhelmed state. you sit up, glaring at her and her all-too-knowing self before glancing back at the boy, just in time to miss his glance over at you.

ms. warren nods. "right. see, flash, being the fastest isn't always the best if you are wrong."

your laugh mixes in with the sound of your classmates, flash's face turning a deep shade of red. he turns around, facing peter, mouthing something to the boy that makes his eyes widen. you frown and sigh, refocusing on the lesson, or- in all actuality- the drawing of ms. warren that cindy doodled on your paper.

rather than reopening up his laptop, peter opts for resting his head on his arms, eyes landing on you for a few seconds. huddling with cindy moon, laughing quietly over your notebook, pencils twisting through the air; what peter assumed to be funny drawings of flash.

it wasn't his fault you'd left your notebook open as he walked by a few weeks ago, exposing random doodles of a few classmates (unbeknownst to peter, the sketch of him was on the next page).

while the boy usually spent his class time people-observing, he'd become more keen on watching you. it wasn't a weird thing, though. it was peter parker, bored in a class he was a bit too smart for, looking for something to distract himself. so what if that something was a pretty girl?

the bell rung, a sigh of relief falling from peters lips. everyone stood up, grabbing their bags, crowd slowly filtering out of the door and into the busy hallway. you say bye to cindy, who had rehearsal and claimed that "abraham will literally shoot me if i'm not there in time for warm-ups."

"shit," you mutter as you stumble, looking behind you. "sorry."

"it-" peter's voice gets caught in his throat. his wide eyes meet yours and your cheeks burn, the roses blooming all over them making you even more flustered. "it's, um, it's okay, don't worry about-"

you nod, struggling to crane your neck to look at him in the crowd of bustling teenagers. sucking in a breath, you manage to squeeze through the doorway, composing yourself and turning to look at peter. he wasn't there.

your eyes shut tight and you cringe, taking a deep breath and making your way out of the school doors.

+ + +

"why'd you do it?"

the voice makes you jump. a ball of light ignites from your palm as you turn your head to see a figure in red and blue. a breath of relief leaves your lungs and the ball sparks out, the eyes of spider-man's mask wide. "do what now?"

"whoa- uh, why'd you turn mr. stark down?" he asks, walking up to you. you scoot over, letting him sit next to you, the smooth material of his suit skimming yours.

no wonder spider-man found you so quickly; you spend every night up here.

"you think i wanna be tied down by a rich man? one who would, probably, make me follow certain stupid rules and reprimand me for not handling a situation the way he wanted it to be handled?"

"dang," he mutters, "way to make me feel bad about my decisions."

a laugh bubbles out of your throat, shortly followed by a gasp. "way to make me sound like him!"

the laugh the sounds out from the boy makes your heart flutter. it was boyish and light, confirming your suspicions of his age.

spider-man was definitely a teenager.

"he's not that bad, you know," peter offers, getting a huff from you in reply. "he just cares a lot. doesn't want me or anyone getting in trouble because of the way they handled a situation."

"how are you supposed to learn anything if you have a safety blanket wrapped around you at all times?"

peter froze, the large, white eyes of his mask blown wide. you made a good point.

there was something about you that was so intriguing. the boldness of your actions and the outward independence you carried with you was something that pulled peter in, that made him want to be around someone so unafraid of life's consequences.

he clears his throat. "so, uh, what school do you go to?"

"bold of you to assume i go to school."

you feel the hero freeze next to you, quite obviously caught off guard. peter was so sure you were his age.

"i'm kidding. i go to school, but there's no way in hell i'm telling you that," you sigh. he nodded.

identity was important.

the sound of traffic shuffles peacefully beneath you. you look over at the boy, tapping playfully on his head. "what's on that brain of yours, spider-boy?"

"uh, probably the fact that you continue to get my name wrong."

you laugh. "pretty sure i've got it right."

"whatever," peter scoffs, smile hidden behind the mask. he shakes his head and looks around. "sucks that i can't give you a name like that. what am i supposed to say, silhouette? no light girl? that's boring."

"no light girl, hmm. may just have to change my name for that one," you hum. the boy picks up on your tone and lets out that same laugh that makes your stomach twist.

you were starting to warm up to this boy.

"well, i gotta, uh," peter sighs.

you cock your head at the boy in red and blue, eyebrows raised. he looks at you.

"mr. stark wants me to check in every time i finish patrolling. says it's 'protocol.'"

"you never cease to prove my point, spider-man."

he jumps up, smiling brightly underneath his mask. "you said spider-man!"

"and i already regret it," you reply, looking up and him and saluting as he laughs and jumps off the ledge, swinging between the buildings and towards avengers headquarters.

a sigh falls from your lips as you pull out your phone, pulling up cindy's contact.

y/n/n i think i'm cheating on my unofficial occasional infatuation for peter parker

cindy lou who y/n, you do this every week ...who is it though

y/n/n a boy in red and blue

cindy lou who what the- are you telling me you have a crush on captain america he's like a hundred years old oh my god wait don't tell me it's spider-man

y/n/n ...

cindy lou who no bro like michelle said she saw spider-man just outside of school right after it ended one day

y/n/n wait what

cindy lou who yeah she thinks he goes to midtown

"holy shit," you mutter, stuffing your phone in your pocket.

now you really cared about his identity.

+ + +

"hey guys!" peter chirps, pulling off his mask and shaking his hair out with a smile.

"somebody's happy," natasha muses.

"what? no, it's nothing," he shakes his head. tony walks in, smirk pulling at his lips as he nudges the boy. "what?"

"kid had his first interaction with the girl."

"wait, the girl? as in..." rhodey trails off, raising a suggestive eyebrow.

"holy shit, the kid met shadow!" bucky exclaims, bright grin on his face as he slaps the counter and laughs. "oh my god!"

a series of laughs rings through the team as peter looks at all of them in a hurried confusion. "wait, all of you know her?"

"enough to know why you're in love with her," scott throws in, munching on his sub.

"i'm not in love with her!"

tony claps his back. "only a matter of time, kid. let's get you hooked up."

the two begin walking towards the lab.

"we'll be watching that footage, pete!" sam yells, snickering. "we got ourselves a rom-com."

peter glances back at the group as tony punches in the code, glass doors sliding apart to let the two in. "what's their deal?"

"more like what's yours," tony smirks, plugging peter's suit in. "ever since your first interaction with her, you keep running in here with that goddamn giddy smile."

peter sputters. "well- uh, am i, like, not allowed to have a friend? i can be smiley after making a friend."

"yeah, kid, but this is a girl. and you're peter."

the boy is silent; he had a point. curse you, tony.

"look, pete, if you want her, go get her. i think you two'd be cute. plus, you've probably got a better chance of coaxing her here than i do," tony suggests.

peter gives him a look.

"what? she'd be a great asset to the team, and her powers are unlike any of ours."

"i know, right?!" peter blurts in a rush of excitement, smile tugging at his lips before it falters slightly. "okay, yeah, i see what you mean, now."

+ + +

you slide into your seat, ignoring the smirk pulling at cindy's face as you grab your physics notebook.

"sooo," she drawls, smirking, "let me see the ring! is it red and blue, or-"

"cindy, i will make the neurons firing in your brain short circuit if you say one more-"

"jesus!" she laughs and holds her hands up in surrender. "wait, you can do that?"

you smile, leaning back in your seat as ms. warren begins her lecture over trajectories, doodles of her drawing graphs on the board fluttering out of your pen and out onto your notes. you'd already read this chapter of the textbook; listening was no use.

instead, you let your mind (and eyes) drift to peter parker. as per usual, his head was buried behind the screen of his laptop, only a few rogue curls peeking out. a sigh falls from your lips as you turn your head back towards the board, glancing at the diagrams before hunching over your notebook, doodling spider-man's figure swinging through buildings, just as he had in front of you last night. you close the journal before cindy gets the chance to sneak a peek.

you let your head fall back, face towards the ceiling. a light draft hits you and you sigh.

there was no way spider-man didn't go to midtown.

unless he was just some sick perv who just hung around there after school. but you were sure that wasn't the case.

after another thirty minutes of zoning out, the bell rings, making you flinch out of your daydream and get up, weaving your way through the end-of-day crowd and out into the new york air. ducking into an alley, you quickly manipulate the light waves surrounding you, deeming you invisible. within a minute or so, you're suited up and determined to catch the hero.

and it didn't take much time.

as soon as you walk out from the alley, spider-man is doing the same, jogging out from another alley just diagonal from you across the street. a smile tugs at your mouth and you dart up into the air, landing swiftly onto your rooftop, turning on your crime radar.

thirty minutes later, only having had to hunt down a shoplifter and return the stolen objects, you're laying on the rooftop, physics notebook out as you read and take notes over the next chapter. your ribs start to slightly ache as you curve your body up, stomach pressing against the concrete.

curse me for forgetting a blanket.

"i'm starting to think you live up here."

without looking, you stick an arm out and shoot a quick ball of light at the hero, making sure it just barely skims past his shoulder.

"hey! what was that for?" he whines.

"fun," you look up, eyes shining at him brightly. his playful sigh is muffled through the mask, but it makes you smile even more as he flops down next to you, stretching out on his stomach.

"ooh, physics," he murmurs, scooting closer and looking at the materials. peter's eyes widen when he recognizes the textbook: the same one he has. he clears his throat.

"what?"

"hmm? nothing," he murmurs, glad his flustered expression is masked. his eyes drift along your notes and land on a doodle of a figure swinging through tall buildings. "wait, you drew me?"

shit.

the air catches in your throat as he scoots even closer, shoulder pressing against you as he pulls the notebook towards him, the large white eyes of his suit squinting at the small drawing. a flutter is sent through your stomach.

"no, that's captain america. silly goose."

he turns his head towards you.

"of course it's you, who else would it be," you joke, tone slightly off, embarrassed and wishing you'd been less clumsy.

of course he was going to see that.

peter feels warm and gets a feeling of adoration towards you. he could tell you were embarrassed; he'd cracked you, even for just a second. the boy almost wished you could see the bright smile his mask was hiding.

"so, um," he blurts, sitting up. "let's, uh, get to know each other...?"

you snort, shaking your head and sitting up so that you're next to him, looking out at the surrounding buildings. "very smooth, spider-man."

"i try."

the two of you begin darting questions back and forth. what's your favorite color? y/f/c. what about his? blue. favorite movie? y/f/m. his? revenge of the sith. favorite song, type of food, hobbies- you name it. and, it was actually kind of fun. it was a friendship in which you got to appreciate each other for your personalities, not for your looks. although, peter did find your eyes quite hypnotizing.

"do you have a boyfriend?"

what?

your eyes widen and you suck in a sharp breath. "that was-"

"abrupt, shit, i'm sorry," he breathes, scratching the back of his neck. the fact that your faces were covered helped a little, but it almost felt more awkward, nonetheless. he could see your eyebrows scrunched together and he cringed. "i was just, um, curious, i guess."

"well, no, spider-man. i don't have a boyfriend."

his heart swells. "oh, uh, nice, i guess."

"nice," you humph. "yeah. uh, i'm guessing you probably have a-"

"definitely not," he laughs, shaking his head. the conversation as a whole felt weird, but the boy was smiling under the mask.

it was very peter parker of him to build a crush in such a short amount of time.

+ + +

"cindy," you whisper, sliding into your seat, "spider-man saw my sketch yesterday."

"what?" she turns her head to you, eyes wide and shining with excitement.

"i was doing physics homework on the roof i usually hang out at and he snuck up on me."

she gives you a mischievous grin. you scoff, light grin tugging at the corners of your mouth, pen making contact with the paper as you start on another sketch of spider-man.

you'd be more careful to hide your notes next time.

as much as he resented himself for it, it became routine for peter to sit down, pull out his notes, then ignore the lesson and stare at you instead. he couldn't help it. but as he watched you today, his brain didn't slip into its usual state of zoning out.

instead, it was making connections.

his eyes got wide at his sudden revelation, darting all over the place to make sure no one was paying attention. he pulls out his phone, starting up his drone and watching carefully as it flies over to you, hovering just close enough to see while still staying discreet.

and there it was.

the view from the drone plays on his screen, the oh-so-familiar doodle making peter's breathing stop. he gulps, quickly guiding the drone back into his backpack, leaning back and resting his eyes on you with an exasperated sigh.

holy shit.

+ + +

"not enough crime in queens, huh?"

he jumps, turning around. "where were you? you're always here before me."

"thought i'd turn the tables," you shrug.

peter nods, playing with his fingers. you'd been on his mind all day, head spinning as he tried to wrap his brain around the fact that you, his crush, were the independent hero that never ceased to amaze him. "can i take off your mask?"

spider-man and his unruly mouth.

"um, why?" you laugh nervously, reaching up to fiddle with the fabric that covered the lower half of your face.

"because we're friends, and i trust you," he shrugs, muttering. "and i have a bit of a suspicion."

you suck in a breath. it takes a moment for you to think it through, but it lines up. you were both doing the same job, so what was the fault in knowing what each other looked like? "i mean, i guess. but only if i can take off yours."

he nods, stepping towards you. you reach your hands out simultaneously, eyes sparkling at him out of both nervousness and excitement. you nod and feel the fabric, your safety blanket, slip off of your face.

"i knew it!" the boy yells, jumping back and pumping a fist excitedly.

wild curls, chocolate eyes, gentle smile.

peter parker.

"holy shit, peter! from physics!" you yelp, slapping a hand to your mouth before pulling it away, feeling as though you'd hidden your face for long enough. "wait, you knew?"

"your drawing, in physics. you were drawing in your notebook so i got curious and flew my drone over, then i saw it."

"you were watching me?" you ask, smiling.

peter's cheeks got red, and it was then that it really settled in. spider-man was peter parker. the cute, intelligent boy from physics. the one with puppy eyes and nerdy t-shirts.

"i mean, like, maybe," he looks down, flustered.

"you're cuter than you realize, parker."

the boy raises his head, confused look painted on his face. "did you just-"

you lean up and plant a light kiss on his cheek. peter feels his face get hot as you turn away, looking back to give him a wink before moving to step off the ledge.

the pull of a web stops you.

peter's lips are planted on yours, soft and quick, gentle and unsure. you stumble back, gulping. "peter, you-"

"i guess hanging out with you gave me a bit more confidence," he shrugs, crooked grin on his lips. a laugh leaves your lungs and you lean your head against his shoulder.

the sound of a siren wailing in the distance makes you flinch.

"last one there owes the other a kiss!" peter yells, tugging on his mask and jumping. you sputter before pulling up your mask as well, jumping off and flying next to him.

"you do realize that it works out in your favor no matter what?"

"yup!"

+ + +

rights for cindy moon because she doesn't get enough credit in fics even though she was in homecoming 0_0

[literatehiss]

Trust Fall - Moments Mist Chapter 3

What if Simon decided “Fuck the Lukas’s” and took Peter with him anyway

Chapter 3 - Simon talks to one of his oldest allies and Peter has a generally bad time Chapter 1 / 2 / 3 Read on AO3 here Peter clutched at Simon like his life depended on it as they dropped though the blue endlessness of the man’s Domain. He was sure he had only blinked for a second before they were suddenly at the steps of an old building, a stained glass owl watching over the entrance.

Peter felt very small as they walked through the endless cold halls that sort of reminded him of home if it weren't for how many people crowded the place. Adults rushed from room to room, talking and laughing, stacks of paper or books in their arms. Simon had told him not to let go of his hand, as so not to lose Peter amongst the Institute's workers. As they walked, the number of people grew fewer and fewer until they reached a brass plated door with the inscription of its owner’s name.

James Wright Head of the Magnus Institute Peter had heard Mr Wright before, talking to his uncle Nathanial in his office, but had never actually met the man.

He knew of Mr Magnus and his Institute, from diaries he wasn’t supposed to read in the library and portraits and paintings in the attic that he wasn’t supposed to explore. 

A voice called for them to enter before Mr Simon could even knock on the door. Peter dug his fingers into the bright blue of Mr Simon’s jacket as they walked into the office. Mr Wright was tall, well taller than Mr Simon, his grey eyes boring into the both of them with a wry smirk.

 “Oh Simon, what have you done?” Simon rolled his eyes as James poked fun at him.

“Don’t lecture me James. Are you going to help?”

“And upset the main funding for my Institute? I am not some kind of idiot Simon.”

“Oh come on, you have more sway over the Lukas’ than even they know. They throw away most of their children anyway, what does one more really make? They’ll have forgotten he even exists within a year or so. I just need you to pull a few strings to mess with the paperwork.”

“Oh, is that really all? I thought you wanted something else?”

“I’m surprised you consider getting to See someone as something that would require a favour”, Simon was already preparing to write a considerably larger check than usual in his next meeting with James.

“That isn’t going to be easy on him you know? If he’s stubborn he might not even survive it.”

“He’s an 8 year old, how willful can he be?”

It turns out that despite the Forsaken blunting his emotions and dulling his personality, Peter was a surprisingly stubborn child.

James was almost amused by the child's attempts to drag the few wisps of the Lonely that followed him together to hide himself from his Sight. But at the end of the day, Peter was just a child, a child that had not yet been embraced by his Patron and so had no hopes of even beginning to fend off what would be an attack in any other circumstance.

Simon’s arms wrapped around Peter’s middle and muttered hushed half-remembered comforts from his own childhood as he kept the child in place.

By the time it was done, Peter was sobbing into Simon’s jacket and James was already sitting back at his desk, speaking to some mid-level governmental bureaucrat, no doubt to meddle with some paperwork in some file somewhere so that Simon would be the boy’s legal guardian.

The other man looked far too pleased with himself for Simon’s liking, though he knew he too would struggle not to be cocksure after a well-earned meal.

With the Forsaken all but ripped away from him, Peter was getting 8 years worth of emotions and neglect flooding his mind. Senses, both physical and emotional, raw and unused to a world unfiltered by the numbing fog that engulfed Moorland House.

Simon picked the inconsolable child up, cracking open the window to James’ office and peering out before sitting on the windowsill.

James didn’t look at them, not with the eyes in his head at least, as Simon prepared to fall out of the window.

“Nice doing business with you Simon, good luck with your little...project”

[joshslater]

Grimsby pt. 2

Similar stories and bonus material on my Patreon.

"Canny mint spot, innit. Just by our door."

Declan expertly squeezed the Corsa into an empty spot next to the pavement on one of the narrow streets lined with like a million identical buildings of dirt-yellow brick townhouses. The building next to us looked run down, with a heap of rubbish lining the stairs to the front door. But that was the same for pretty much every house on this street. As we walked to the door I could see some grafitti wannabe artist had tagged the door with a thuggish looking "BROWN" in felt pen. Declan unlocked and motioned me to get in.

Having seen the outside, the inside didn't pose any surprises. Run down and filled with rubbish. It wasn't just dumped there though, but it looked like someone had lived there for quite a while. Empty beer cans, pizza boxes and dirty laundry all around the place.

"How long have you been staying here?" "Came yesterday. Drove when Butcher told me to." "But whose is all this?" "Chayse Brown. Ghosted a week ago. Now you're him."

I felt a chill up my spine. I wonder if the real Chayse was still alive or if he had just ran away from whatever Butcher Jones threatened him with. In any event it looked like I was set up with a spacious home and all the fag stubs a man could need. There were ash trays everywhere. Well, fewer insects I guess, which balanced the enormous amount of empty take away boxes that also littered the place.

”This is a lot... Do you think any of the clothes fit?” "You're already wearing it, mate."

Declan gave me a quick tour. There were two bedrooms upstairs, one with a real bed and clothes everywhere. It looked like a lost and found bin at a gym. A small bathroom with a shower, and a second bedroom with a rickety spare bed and an attempt at a home gym. Downstairs were a large living room with a big sofa, a decent TV and, to my joy, an Xbox. Next to the living room, under a ton of rubbish, I presumed you would find a kitchen if you dug deep enough. The path to the fridge was open at least, and Declan fetched me a can of Stella.

"You fancy a curry, lad?"

Did I ever? I hadn't eaten or drunk anything the entire day, which probably was why I was drunk already at my second Stella when the food arrived half an hour later. We spent the rest of the evening in front of the TV watching footie, drinking Stella and Dec showing me how to smoke properly. I barely registered Declan telling me we needed to be somewhere before 10 the next day, and I have no idea when we did decide to go to bed.

I did see that the time was 7:22 in the fucking morning when he woke me up. At least when I had regained enough focus to find the mobile. Apparently I had managed to plug the USB charger by the bed into the phone, and luckily it was the right kind of charger. My mouth tasted of death, my head hurt and my ears hurt. I surprised myself finding a stud in the fresh ear piercing, and manage to make it really hurt by accidentally tugging it. That brought the past day back. Fuck. Not even 24 hours ago I was sleeping in my own bed. Now I was wearing someone else's clothes, sleeping on top of someone else's messy bed. It hadn't even crossed my mind yesterday that I probably should wash things up, but then I hadn't been sober enough to consider undressing either. Looking out over the mess of a room I absentmindedly stroked my buzz and felt the morning wood stir a bit. Fuck no! Don't go there!

"Have a wash. Hafta go soon."

I did as Declan told and had a shower, hoping that would make things better. At least water would make the hangover some good. The only option was a big bottle of 3-in-1 adidas shower whatever, generically labeled "after sport". Since I already had his house, name, clothes and smelled like the guy, I decided to use his toothbrush as well.

"Y'alreet?" "Let's go." “Hey, Dec. You said you came the day before yesterday, but I only agreed to come yesterday." “Fate, innit”

How long had Butcher Jones been planning this? Or perhaps Chayse Brown was a role people rotated into three month each. Take guys of the same size, shave them, chav them and put them in a social grade E area and no one would look close enough to care. Makes you wonder what is going on here that he need this kind of operation for.

“You been here before?” “Grimsby? Fuck no.”

And go we did. Apparently Declan wanted to save on petrol money and decided we should walk to the dock. Everything looked pretty much the same, street after street, just different rubbish. All around us everything was quite green and colorful, so it wasn’t ugly depressing in a communist state sense of the word, but everything was worn and clearly not everyone was interested in upkeep. While we had a walking breakfast of Richmond Blue king size cigarettes and a shared Stella, Declan explained that Butcher Jones had me set up with someone at the fish market. He didn’t know more than that. It took us almost two hours to get there, and Dec had me ask for direction twice. By the time we got there my hangover was almost gone.

The fish market was busy with shoppers browsing, talking to merchants and sitting down for a bite. Everything looked newly renovated, with a modern look, slates, stainless steel, LED lighting everywhere. It all looked quite fancy. Declan stopped the first person he could find that looked like he worked there.

“Oi, you Jamie?” “No. Jamie who?” “Jamie Naylor” “Eehh... He’s probably in packaging. Go through that door over there.”

As we passed through the door he had pointed it was almost like going from the audience seats back stage. Harsh light and wet concrete. Not that many people.

“Oi, you Jamie?” “Aye. What can I do for you, lads?” “My mate Chayse Brown, Butch...” Jamie cut him off. “Good day Chayse. Mr. Jones put in a word for you. We lack some hands after the first rush, so he suggested someone could come pick up some slack. Is that you?” “Yeah”, I answered. “Need someone to move boxes, ice and stuff between 7 and 2. £60 cash after each shift, none the wiser. Sounds good to you?” “Aye.” “You can come in tomorrow?” “He will”, Declan answered for me.

We shook on it and left.

“Hey, I’m starving. Can we have chippie?” “You’ll hate them soon enuf. Let’s have burger”

We found a Burger King some 15 minutes away, and Declan bought two whoppers, no menu, using some 2-for-1 coupon. As I sipped the cold water from the paper cup and looked out at the fish market in the distance I was feeling tired again. Starting 7, I thought, and probably 1 and a half hour walk, I would have to rise at 5. I wondered if lifting boxes with iced fish would get you cold or sweaty. Perhaps a bit of both. Good thing there is a lot of shitty athletic wear laying around at home I can use.

I almost didn’t realize it. “Home”. How quickly you accept things. Declan was back with the whoppers.

“There’s your scran. Plenty of time for next appointment.” “There are more?” “Need to ink you to fit propa. I figure you haven’t any?” “Never.” “What you want? Nike or adidas?” “I... don’t understand.” “Swoosh thing or weed logo?” “Both are kind of tacky.” “I’ll pick then.”

We spent probably two hours just talking at the Burger King table. I wasn't wearing my watch anymore, so I didn't track it as well as I would otherwise. Other than some indifferent girl offering to clear our table, no one seemed to give a shit that we sat there. Dec spent a lot of time trying to get me to retell as much as possible of last evenings matches. It was hard. For one thing I was drunk, but more importantly I didn't really care. Also I had this low level of unease about the whole tattoo thing.

I was going back and forth between feeling violated for having this sprung on me, to be permanently marked with some shitty tat. On the other hand who doesn't have a tattoo? And a lot of them aren't that great anyway. This is after all part of getting me into some sort of disguise as quickly as possible. I didn't make the barbers appointment either. Perhaps the lacks of giving a shit was contagious from the burger staff, but once we walked into the tattoo studio I was pretty indifferent to it.

"Hafta wax it." "What? Why?" "If it’s shaved, people can tell. Can't look fresh."

That's how I had molten wax poured on me for the first time ever. People do this during sex? I guess that part was nothing compared to the pain when hair was ripped out of their follicles. And of course it wasn't enough to just get the area for the tattoo smooth. Tom, the heavily tattooed and pierced guy that appeared to be constantly flirting with both me and Declan, made my entire front almost completely smooth, leaving just some wisps of hair around the nipples and part of the treasure trail, before moving on to the tattooing part.

Declan selected some ink that would look a bit faded right away and asked Tom to make the edges a bit soft. I watched as he slowly filled in the outline of an old school adidas logo, making it look like I wore a permanent track top. You could laser it away I suppose, but I knew that wouldn't happen. It takes like a year, hurts like hell, and I'm completely broke. I don't even own the underwear I’m sitting in.

Once Tom was done with the inking and asked me to check myself in the mirror, I got a shock. It wasn't the tattoo. I'd been looking at it all while it was injected into my skin. No, it was the rest of me. For a brief moment I didn't recognize anything in the mirror except for the tattoo. It had somehow slipped my mind that I looked nothing like I did 30 hours ago.

Declan nodded approvingly, and handed over a new nicotine patch. “Looking mint”

[mariamermaid]

Ghost

Billy Hargrove X female Reader

Summary:  Hawkins most popular bad boy and bad girl always had a special connection, and with the upcoming summer holidays things are about to change…

Words: 5k+

Warning: Swearing, Smoking, drinking

A/N: Inspired by Halsey´s Ghost

——————-

I’m searching for something that I can’t reach

 You remained seated on the motorcycle, the helmet waiting in front of you. The cigarette still hung loosely from the corners of your mouth, the red stains from lipstick fading with each puff you took. You hated Mr. Wesley for the fact that he had given you detention on the very last day before the summer holidays. He never liked you anyways.

But now it was finally over, even though the hours had stretched for what seemed eternity, the dread was finally over and nothing could stop you from the holidays.

But then you heard the howl of a car, approaching you from the side. You recognized the motor sound and didn´t even bother to take your eyes off the school building.

“What are you doing here, Y/l/n?”

“Billy”, you breathed exhausted. For several seconds you thought about giving him some snarky comment back, but you were too tired to put up with his bullshit.

“Wesley had given me detention.” You explained, finally tearing off your eyes the building to look at Billy, who was sitting in his blue Camaro. He was smoking as well, but you just finished yours and threw it away.

He huffed. “Detention? The old cunt Turner did the same with me.”

It was your turn to let out a rough laugh, then you eyed him again. He had been watching you in the meantime, just to avoid the eye contact now.

“There´s a party at Cathy´s today, you coming?” He then asked after a short silence.

Billy and you didn´t talk much, when you did, you mostly just threw comments at each other and argued. You both had a reputation to sell and especially after he had moved here, you had often battled for the titles. But after a few months, you had given in, deciding to share your territory with him. You barely actually talked to each other, it made sense you didn´t know much about him. But somehow you had gone from previous enemies to allies.

“Cathy that bitch? She´ll love to see me there!” You added with a grin. Billy nodded smiling as well.

“Right, didn´t you almost break her nose?”

“Didn´t she call you a fucking dick the other day after not wanting to go on a second date?”

You both laughed and you felt a certain weight being pulled of your shoulders. The sun didn´t stand that high anymore, the temperature dropping to a still warm but endurable level. There were no clouds, the sky was perfectly blue and birds chirped in the trees around the school.

“You got any plans for the holidays?” Billy shook his head.

“Nah, not really. Mostly starting to work as a lifeguard.” You huffed again, pulling the helmet finally closer to your body. “How fitting, you checking out girls all day and even getting paid for it.”

“Well, will you come by?”

“You wish, Hargrove. I´m not a pool person.”  He chuckled lowly, while you rolled your eyes.

“Don´t tell me you don´t have a nice bathing suit for that ass of yours.”

You shrugged innocently. “I don´t, prefer to go without one at all.” You watched Billy swallow; his eyes fixed on you. “But a public swimming bath is not the place for that.” You continued smiling devilish. Then you finally pushed down the sunglasses from your head, giving him one last glance.

“Especially not with you there.”

After you put on the helmet and started the bike, you took off but still heard how he screamed after you.

“You coming to the party or not?!”

You were already too far and the machine too loud, instead you showed him the middle finger, knowing well how he hated it when you provoked him. In the mirror you could see that Billy first licked his lips, then scratched his jaw, before leaving the parking lot as well.

I don’t like them innocent, I don’t want no face fresh

Want them wearing leather, begging, let me be your taste test

 You did indeed come to the party, which was already in full swing. You arrived late, not having planned to come any earlier. It was just past midnight and at least 90 percent of the people were already drunk. Luckily, the warm weather still lasted and the ripped shorts you wore were enough for the night. As always you were accompanied by your leather jacket, but you had left the bike at home. You already knew you would be drinking. Cathy stood in the front yard, flirting with a football player but when she caught an eye of you, she angrily approached.

“What are you…” You didn´t give her a chance of talking and instead, you took the cup in her hands. She almost flinched at your touch, that bloody nose of hers was a good warning.

“Heard there was a party”, you added simply and continued to walk through the garden where the most people had gathered. With a quick look into the house you saw that snacks and drinks were inside, and two couples heavily making out. In the backyard was a bonfire, a table where beer pong was played and two large speakers echoing with music.

Somebody almost ran into you, until you recognized the girl.

“Hey Nancy!” You greeted her, she smiled awkwardly, the boy holding her hand was Jonathan Byers.

“Already leaving?” You grinned and she further blushed. Nancy and you had known each other for ages, you had played together in kindergarten and when Steve was being a dick to her, you had her back. As much of a reputation you had, you never depended on images and when eyeing the two, you thought they were a cute couple.

“Yeah”, she stuttered and now Jonathan also blushed. You patted her shoulder, offering them a genuine smile. “Then have fun.”

You further chatted with various people in the crowd until the loud screams interrupted your current conversation. Together with your friend, Craig, you approached the newly formed group.

It was mostly boys, they all had gathered around one certain dirty blonde-haired boy, who just had finished jugging a beer keg. He didn´t drown the last slug and spitted it around. The group around him cheered and some even applauded; they acted like animals. While turning to shower his success Billy´s eyes landed on you, his dark orbs were dilated and hunger laid in the deep blue.

Just then you drowned your cup as well.

He grinned and strolled over to you. By his walk he was already full and when he patted Craig on the chest, you couldn´t help but roll your eyes.

“Craig, my dear friend, would you be a darling and give us some space.” Billy didn´t wait for him to protest and practically pushed him away. Craig watched you cautiously, but you shook your head, telling him that it was fine. Craig was one of the best baseball players in Hawkins and you knew he was working hard towards a scholarship, which was also why he neither drank or smoked.

Billy casually slipped his arm around your shoulder, he smelled like smoke, beer and his discernible perfume, he always wore. But you shook off his arm.

“Y/n, didn´t think you would come?”

“Didn´t want to be missing out on seeing you drunk idiot.”

He acted offended, until realizing that you weren´t drunk. He grabbed your arm again, this time harder to make sure you wouldn’t slip away again, but not in a hurting way. “C´mon we´re getting you something to drink.”

He lead you inside the house, on the couch was still the couple making out, the other one in the kitchen left at the side of Billy Hargrove, who gave them an annoyed glare.

He gave you another cup of cold punch and watched you take a sip.

“Oh, Y/n, I know you can do better.” You glared at him, a playful glare, then you drowned the cup. And another cup.

The next one you decided to take slower and Billy seemed to approve now, that he pulled you away again. You found yourself in the dark hallway, somehow already lost in the unknown house. In some inexplainable way, you didn´t mind though. Billy was still able to walk straight, well almost, but he spoke a little besotted.

“You didn´t tell me your plans for the summer, besides going skinny dipping without me, which is really a shame!”

You took out your cigarettes, knowing well that Cathy´s parents probably didn´t want to have smoking in the house. You offered him one as well, which he gladly took. While you packed them away again, Billy had pulled out his lighter and you leaned closer to catch the fire. You felt his eyes watching you closely, the small fire being one of the only light sources, your face getting illuminated.

When you looked up, you starred directly into his piercing eyes.

I like the sad eyes, bad guys, mouth full of white lies

Kiss me in the corridor, but quick to tell me goodbye

 Billy leaned closer and closer, his breathing bringing the flame out of rhythm. Luckily, you weren´t yet drunk, and you quickly yanked away. The sudden movement of yours created a small wisp of wind, which extinguished the flame. For a few seconds you only heard him breathing, you had leaned back at the wall until he moved to lean against the opposite wall as well. Then he used his lighter again for his own cigarette. His eyes only catching the light for seconds, sparkling.

“I got no plans.”

It was dark again, sometimes you saw the cigarette blaze when Billy took a puff. But you knew he was watching you, because so did you.

“No plans? No vacation with family?”

He didn´t see how you bit your lip, how you pressed your fingernails into your hand.

“No, my dad´s working abroad anyway.”

He immediately realized how you didn´t mention your mother, feeling sympathy, but not telling.

“So, you´re all alone all day long?”

“I got a cat.” He huffed.

“Maybe I should come and visit, we could have some fun.”

“You don´t even know, where I live.” It was true, Billy didn´t know where you lived, but he couldn´t admit that.

He wanted to ask you more, finding himself getting more and more interested in your personal life. He also felt surprisingly peaceful, he didn´t have to pretend around you.  

But your pleasant moment was again interrupted by someone.

Melissa Andrews, she sat next to you in Math and often helped you when you didn´t understand something, ran past you and stumbled into the bathroom to throw up.

You sighed and stubbed out the cigarette with your foot.

“Sorry, Bill.”

Then you joined her in the bathroom and closed the door behind you. You knew that it was better when nobody saw her in that state.

Melissa kneeled in front of the toilet, both of her hands grabbing the seat. You emptied your cup into the sink and filled it with water. Then you sat down at the rim of the bathtub, holding back Melissa´s hair. When she took a break to look up, you offered her the water.

“C´mon drink up, it´ll help I promise.”

She drowned the cup in one, then she faced the toilet again, bot not vomiting. You watched how her eyes lazily looked around, she must have felt pretty dizzy.

“Was…”, she tried, but it took a second try for her to finish the sentence.

“Was that Billy Hargrove with you in the hallway?”

You chuckled and filled the cup a second time.

“Yeah”, you answered nonchalantly, giving her the cup again. Melissa sipped, finally looking at you and not anymore the toilet, but still sitting on the bathroom floor. She started grinning.

“Oh, so the bad girl and bad boy are a thing now?” You shook your head, still smiling.

“Me and Billy? Hell no!”

She rolled her eyes. “Then why was he in here with you, talking, instead of outside with his boys or flirting with somebody?”

You knew she wasn´t wrong because her words made you think. It was your luck that Melissa had to throw up again and dropped the topic.

You waited for half an hour, until you were sure that Melissa was finished, at least for now. You then helped her stand up.

“Do you want me to get you home?” She nodded tired.

Her arm was linked with yours when you left the house and Craig quickly caught sight of you.

“Need help?”

You shook your head. “I think she´s fine for now, I´m going to walk her home, it´s only a few minutes.”

Melissa and you sometimes had studied together, you had been at her place a few times and it was not even five minutes away. When you reached the house, Melissa fumbled with the key until you unlocked the door. “Are your parents home?”, you asked whispering and she nodded.

You didn´t have to turn on the light, her room was the first door on the left and you managed to get her into bed and even take off her shoes. Then you quietly snuck out the house again, sighing relieved that her parents hadn´t noticed.

You wandered back to Cathy´s party, but the alcohol that had hit you previously,  had vanished again, as well as your party mood. You decided it was just the fact that you had spent half an hour in a bathroom, and it would come back again. Melissa´s words still spun in your head. Then why was he in there with you?

You shook your head and entered the backyard again, but when turning a corner, you saw Cathy pressed against the wall, her lips crashing against Billy´s.

You sighed and rolled your eyes; your good mood was now completely ruined. A bitter taste spread in your mouth and your stomach turned.

Leaving the party again and now final, you decided to walk back home. Why did it bother you so much that Billy and Cathy made out?

You say that you’re no good for me

‘Cause I’m always tugging at your sleeve

And I swear I hate you when you leave

But I like it anyway

 You didn´t know that Billy had seen you in the window´s reflection and immediately sprinted after you. He silently swore to himself, then he grabbed his car keys and drove away from the house party, only to find you two streets away. Again, you recognized the car engine and continued walking, while he pulled down his window.

“Need a ride home?”

“No.” It was a lie; your house was in the woods and it would take you at least 45 minutes to get there by foot.

“C´mon Y/n, you could show me where you live?”, he was leaning down so he could watch you from his seat.

“You shouldn´t be driving, you´re drunk, Hargrove.”

“I also shouldn´t let a lady walk home alone, in the dark in the middle of the night.”

“Yeah, you´re right. Somebody could kidnap me!”, you exclaimed, growing annoyed with him.

“For example, in a blue Camaro.” You added and Billy´s grin dropped. He quickly gathered himself again, ready for his next try, but you abruptly stopped walking, lowly growling.

“Leave me the fuck alone, Hargrove!” You screamed furiously, your fists clenching.

The motor stopped, in the background two houses turned on their lights, alarmed by the sudden screaming.

You shook your head, feeling how angry, hot tears started forming in your blurry eyes. You spun back around, not wanting to face Billy anymore longer. Then you quickly walked away, even though it took all your strength not to run.

 My ghost, where’d you go?

I can’t find you in the body sleeping next to me

My ghost, where’d you go?

What happened to the soul that you used to be?

 ***

A week later, you found yourself feeling way better.

On the way home you had smoked almost an entire pack of cigarettes, then you couldn´t fall asleep at three in the morning, had taken a shower, watched the sunrise, finally fell asleep and woke up hungover.

It was time to take care of yourself. 

You had almost completely stopped smoking and instead of going to any parties, you went to bed earlier. You had finished an entire book and were on your way to the second. Your house in the woods was right next to a small lake, surrounded by high firs. It was peaceful and quiet, exactly what you needed. You spent most of the time outside, either reading or swimming, while your cat often joined you. Your father wasn´t home as usually.

It had taken a few days to adjust and to forget that awful night that stuck to your memory like a disgusting piece of gum, but now you had almost forgotten about it.

So, while you sunbathed by the lake, you couldn´t anticipate what was happening in the very same time, not too far away from you.

With a loud thud and a following gray smoke escaping the hood of the blue Camaro, the car stopped.

Billy was stuck in the middle of nowhere, there wasn´t even an emergency phone nearby, and he couldn´t make out why the car had stopped. Annoyed he pushed back his locks and light another smoke. It was about then when he realized the gravel path leading into the woods. Maybe he could find a hut or even a house with a phone. He made his way through the forest until he reached a house. It took him by surprise, it wasn´t even a shack; it was an actual house. A good, expensive looking one, made out of light wood with a chimney and large windows.

He rang the bell, but nobody opened, he looked around, the garage was closed; what if nobody was home?

He still decided to take a closer look and walked around the building. The small, turquoise lake surprised him even further, but what surprised him the most, was the girl laying in the grass at the end of a gangplank.

You laid on your back, your cat, Maple, chilling on the dock, watching hopeful into the water for a fish. You wore sunglasses, the book next to you, you hadn´t heard the doorbell. Or Billy approaching.

“I see you do own some nice bathing suit.”

You jerked and sat up to find him staring at you from the small hill, where the house stood.

“Billy? Billy Hargrove?!” He chuckled and further approach, until he was only a few feet away. You suddenly felt a little exposed, you wore your favorite two-piece bathing suit, which actually looked really good, yet you felt uncomfortable.

“What are you doing here?”

“Believe it or not, it´s pure coincidence.”

“Oh really?”, you asked overly sarcastic. Behind your sunglasses he couldn´t see how your eyes twitched.

“My car broke down.”

“What if I don´t believe you?” He crossed his arms.

“Then go take a look on the road.” You sighed; your peaceful day was gone. Finally, you rose and walked to him, but his eyes not once left your face to check you out. You casually patted on his shoulder. “You can use our phone.”

He wanted to follow you into the house, but before Maple ran past him, hissed at him and then followed you as well.

“She doesn´t like strangers”, you added and entered the living room through the back door from the terrace. “Nice house you got.”

“As I said, my dad´s always working.” “So, we´re all alone out here?” You rolled your eyes.

“Phone is in the kitchen.”

While he walked to the large kitchen with marbled details and several plants, you took the stairs to your room and quickly put on a light dress. It wasn´t something you wore to school, let alone the fact that you couldn´t wear a flowy dress on the motorcycle.

When you came back to the kitchen, you could listen how Billy just ended the call.

“Yes, I´m waiting, what else should I do? See you then.” He hung up, seeming angrier than before, but then he looked at you and his face softened again.

“How long will it take?” “They say the earliest they can come is in an hour.” You both let out a sigh, until you walked to the fridge. “Ice tea?”

He nodded and sat down on the stool at the high counter top, watching how you poured two glasses. Your open hair softly swung with your movement and so did your dress. Then you put down the glasses and sat across him. He offered you a small smile.

“You look pretty.”

You raised your brow, taking a sip. “Do I?”

He blushed slightly, quickly glancing down to avoid your eyes.

“Yeah, you always do.”

“Oh my god, did Billy Hargrove just compliment me?”

He laughed, finally facing you again and you smiled as well.

“What about Cathy?” You then added, still grinning but the words visibly stung him, his lips pressed to thin line. “Oh wait, let me guess; it was only good for a night!” His smile had completely vanished and he clenched his jaw, trying not to turn a hair. He knew he would regret it…

“We just made out”, Billy mumbled. “No details? What about your bad boy reputation?” You asked, provokingly whispering to the end.

“What about your reputation? Leaving parties early, then not coming at all anymore?”

“Oh Billy, there´s a significant difference between you and me. You have the womanizer reputation, the guy that beats up the other one because he looked at him the wrong way. I have the image to not give shit about them, there are only a few people that actually matter to me and if somebody hurts them, I give them hell.”

“So, you´re saying I don´t care about anybody.”

“Oh no, you do, you just think it´s weak to show it.”

He bit his lip, his knuckles turning white while holding the glass. You were right, you almost always were.

You’re a Rolling Stone boy, never-sleep-alone boy

Got a million numbers and they’re filling up your phone, boy

I’m off the deep end, sleeping all night through the weekend

Saying that I love him but I know I’m gonna leave him

 “You care about your sister, Max”, you added while standing up again.

“I care about you.”

“No you don´t-“  “Yes, I do. I couldn´t sleep after that party, I didn´t know if you had come home, if you were safe… I called Melissa and Craig, even Nancy, but they hadn´t heard from you.”

You stood at the other end of the kitchen; your mouth slightly opened. After seconds had passed, you licked your dry lips, hoping it would help to get some words out.

“Sorry, I didn´t know you were so worried about me. But I had called Craig the other day…”

You watched his jaw clench again. “Yeah, he didn´t really want to talk to me, probably thinks I´m gonna steal you away.”

“Steal me? From who?”

“Oh, you know, Craig”, he eyed your confused expression. “You know he has a thing for you, right?”

It was your turn to avoid the glance. “No, I didn´t.”

“I mean he´s perfect for you, Hawkins best football player, king of the school, there´s nothing more a girl could wish for.”

“I don´t wish for him, I´m sorry to not feel the same way he does.”

After several minutes of silence, you cleared your throat, trying to push away the awkward mood.

“I´m going to wait outside.”

You placed yourself back on the blanket, Maple only a few feet away and always keeping a wary eye on Billy. Billy followed you as well, but remained standing, looking uncomfortable around, unsure what to do. You sighed and closed the book you just had opened again.

“You can sit down if you want to.”

He did as said, and you continued to read, well pretend to read your book.

“What are you reading?”

“Pride and Prejudice”

“Shouldn´t we read that next year in school?” You nodded.

“Yeah, but I had some free time and it´s actually not that bad.”

Billy gave a barely noticeable nod, then silence sat in again.

He was leaning forward, his arms on his knees, his blue eyes facing the lake. You realized how deep, dark circles that were drawn under his eyes; he looked like he hadn´t slept in a good while.

“You look tired.”

Billy turned to look slightly back at you, but then didn´t answer.

“If you want to, you can take a nap, I´ll wake you when they come.”

You glanced back into the book, but eventually he leaned back and lied down. In a matter of minutes he seemed to be asleep and you waited by his side.

 My ghost, where’d you go?

I can’t find you in the body sleeping next to me

My ghost, where’d you go?

What happened to the soul that you used to be?

20 minutes, 30, 40, 50…

Time passed and after the stated hour was over, you started to wonder when the breakdown service would arrive.

Billy continued to peacefully sleep, his nose sometimes flinched a little, but in a cute way. He had needed the sleep dearly; he woke up two hours later.

Surprised he sat up, he almost seemed shaken by bad dream.

“How long did I sleep?”

“Two hours, and seven minutes to be exact.”

“What?” He jumped up, ready to run into the next best direction, but stopped when realizing that he didn´t know where to go. Within second he went from peaceful to a disordered mess, which obviously worried you.

“Half an hour ago the breakdown service had called; they can´t make it today.”

The tension immediately left his body and his shoulders sank, but you saw the storm behind his eyes. 

“Why didn´t you wake me?” He sounded angry, but you remained calm and looked him straight into the face.

“You seemed like you needed it.” His face softened; he knew you were too good to him.

“You shouldn´t do that.” His words left you confused.

“What? Letting you sleep?”

“No, getting involved with me. People around me tend to get hurt.”

You swallowed, unsure what to say.

“Y/n, I… I´ve been feeling like this for quiet a while now; I really like you. Like a lot.” He mumbled, avoiding your glance while you slowly stood up as well.

“But I know, I´ll break your heart and you don´t deserve a broken heart.” His voice was shaking and you still weren´t able to get one word out of your mouth. His sudden confession came unexpected to you.

“I´m sorry.”

Before you could a chance to speak up, he turned and hurried away. You tried running after him, but Billy was gone. As prompt as he had come, he had disappeared again.

You say that you’re no good for me

‘Cause I’m always tugging at your sleeve

And I swear I hate you when you leave

But I like it anyway

 ***

“Billy?” Max knocked on her brother’s door, their father wasn´t home at the time. Billy had come home on a Thursday evening, per foot, without the car.  His father immediately became angry, asked him where the car was; Billy didn´t answer. After a bloody lip and black eye from him, Billy had gone into his room and since then barely left it. Today was Monday.

Max didn´t like admitting it, but she grew worried about her brother. When she was at Mike´s with Lucas and Dustin, she overheard a phone call from Mike´s older sister Nancy. She apparently had talked to a friend of hers, chatting about a party from a few weeks ago. She had said something about Billy and Y/n, hanging out there, privately in a dark hallway, talking.

First, Max didn´t think of it as much, but then Billy kept acting so weird and after three girls had called to ask Billy to a party, Max slowly became suspicious.

Max didn´t know you well, but liked you. Once a senior guy in school exclaimed that girl can´t skate and you had shoved him into a locker, giving Max a little wink.

“Billy?” Still no answer came, Max leaned against the door. “You know you can talk to me.” She added quietly. “Is this about Y/n?” She asked even quieter. Billy ripped the door abruptly open.

His face first seemed angry, but then he saw the fearful expression on Max´s- he slowly nodded.

I’m searching for something that I can’t reach

 The two siblings both sat on the couch, both in silence. They tried to figure out what to say, but didn´t know how to start. They had stopped talking to each other long time ago, it was like they needed to learn it all over again. When Max just opened her mouth, they doorbell rang. She glanced over to Billy, he didn´t make a move to open the door. Sighing to herself she opened it, only to find you standing there. Behind you waited the blue Camaro, the keys in your hand.

“Max, is Billy here?”

Max starred at you perplex and then slowly nodded. “Billy?” He didn´t answer.

“Billy, you might wanna come, Y/n´s here.”

You suddenly heard steps and Billy came to your sight. First, he starred at you, then car.

You realized how he looked more tired than ever, his eyes a little swollen and his left eye had remaining yellow, blueish tints from a black eye.

“Hi”, you said a little high pitched. Max already smirked, finding herself the first one to be shipping you two together.

“I´m gonna give you some privacy.” She explained and left your sight again, disappearing in the house.

“What are you doing here?”

“The breakdown service arrived the next day, I came with them and decided to bring you your baby back.”

His eyes flinched.

“But the bill?”

“I covered it, well technically my father did.”

“I don´t need your pity.”

“It´s called a present.”

“I don´t want it.”

“But how will you take me on a date without a ride?”

He stopped, starring at you wide eyed. You took a deep breath, you had carefully put together the words and now had come the time to say them.

“I thought about what you said and maybe you´re right, maybe you will break my heart. But what if you won´t? What if we, Hawkins famous bad boy and bad girl, worked out?”

He stayed utterly still, you weren´t even sure if he heard the words you had said.

Until he leaned forward, his hands cupping your face and his lips pressing against yours.

First, you were taken back, but then allowed him entrance. Your hands softly grabbed his hair around his neck. When you finally parted again, you were both gasping for air.

“Ok let´s try it, I promise I won´t break your heart.”

“Can´t say the same.”

“I´ll take the risk.”

 ***

By the end of the summer Billy found himself changed, changed by you.

And when you entered Hawkin High after the break again, hand in hand, both wearing boots and similar jackets, everyone eyed you with envy. And it felt damn good.

He was finally happy in a long time.

My ghost, where’d you go?

I can’t find you in the body sleeping next to me

My ghost, where’d you go?

What happened to the soul that you used to be?

[ninzied]

north/south

she doesn’t cry.

a pepperony/stark family fic. spoilers for endgame.

She doesn’t cry.

Pepper knows it’s to be expected. That she doesn’t understand; that she can’t understand, that she doesn’t know how. But there’s no comfort to be found in the things that are expected, when there’s nothing expected about any of this.

She doesn’t cry. She eats the food, or she at least picks at the food, poking the grapes around on her plate, and pouting at the “weird stuff” she doesn’t like, arugula in the salad, and “the hard bread” that she ends up licking all the toppings off of.

She is her father’s daughter, through and through.

There are sliders, but they didn’t come with any cheese, so Happy swipes some cheddar off the charcuterie board, stabs a toothpick back through each one and heats them up in the microwave for her.

She asks for ketchup, and Happy looks lost for a moment until Butterfingers unearths some packets from underneath papers at Tony’s work station.

“We have no idea how long those have been there,” Pepper starts to scold them both, but the anticipation on Morgan’s face – and Happy’s, too, really, even the robot is tilting its little makeshift head at her – suffice it to say she doesn’t go anywhere with the rest of that sentence.

It wedges a small crack in her heart, but only a small one, when Morgan takes her plate of small cheeseburgers and plops herself down on the couch by the fire. Only the smallest of cracks. There isn’t much left that hasn’t already been broken.

Morgan sits and looks around her, expectant. She’s waiting for something, and Happy’s trying his best to figure out what, when Pepper gestures at the table. The mask isn’t there anymore – it’s been replaced by the food, and a very somber Nick Fury who’s deep in discussion with Miss Danvers – but this is the last place Morgan had seen her father.

And it would certainly stand to a four-year-old’s reasoning that this is the first place he’ll come looking for her again. She just has to wait long enough.

Morgan turns to Happy with her untouched plate and says, “I thought you said Daddy liked cheeseburgers too.”

Happy’s face falls, and he’s rushing forward to do damage control while Pepper – Pepper’s just trying to breathe, because it’s hard suddenly, when her chest feels like it’s turned to ice. It was ridiculous to think that she was done breaking after all.

She remembers, at least, how to take one step, then two. In fact, she makes it all the way to the bookcase before completely falling apart.

…

Their life together is on those shelves. Pictures of Morgan, mostly. First breath. First coo. First sneeze, because that was not a battle that Pepper found worth fighting with Tony. First steps, first bite of cake at each of their birthdays. Chocolate for Morgan. Red velvet for Pepper. Anything topped with a disgusting amount of sprinkles for Tony.

Then there were the drawings of them with matching shrapnel hearts that glowed, Pepper’s on a necklace, Morgan with her little bracelets. Multiplication tables that Tony had proudly framed even though all of the 3’s were written insistently backwards. Crayon portraits of dogs that Pepper always said no to.

She should have let them have a dog.

But it’s not any of these things that shatters that last piece of her left still standing.

She’s always aimed for cleanliness, but living with a child – make that two, on most days – was not exactly conducive to keeping a place tidy for long.

There are toys scattered here and there, stuffed animals and small handheld robots that were ostensibly made to help with the chores but more often than not got caught up in turf wars with the lions, not to mention one very nefarious hedgehog.

The hedgehog had been borne of a so-called math project of theirs. They’d repurposed a coconut plushy, and then proceeded to cover every inch of it with Pepper’s hot glue gun, bits of fabric, and hair – hair from Morgan’s toy trolls, her Raggedy Ann dolls, and the My Little Ponys that Bruce had sent her one year for Christmas.

They’d completed the look by jamming in colored paper clips for paws, and adding on black button eyes as an after-thought.

It looks – well, it looks like a little monster, quite frankly, but Morgan adores it, and so had Tony. He’d been beside himself with delight when she christened it “Hairy Ball” – Harry for short, at Pepper’s insistence.

…

(“I…don’t understand this, but I suppose I will have to accept it.”

“Potts, it’s the hairy ball theorem,” said Tony, with Morgan giggling away in his ear as he hoisted her higher and higher. “Simple topology. Take an even-dimensional sphere, and any continuous tangent vector field must have at least one point on the sphere where the vector equals zero.”

“I’m sure it does, Tony.”

“In essence, if you try to comb a hairy ball flat, there’s always going to be that one stubborn tuft that sticks out.”

“I see,” said Pepper, entirely humoring them. “And this is useful because…?”

“Because it’s funny,” said Morgan, kissing her hedgehog in the middle of its lumpy forehead.

“Because it’s funny,” Tony had echoed, like no other explanation mattered more than this one, and they shook their heads at each other with perfectly matching affronted expressions.)

…

Harry the hedgehog is squashed beneath a teetering bookstack, its felt-tipped nose poking out from behind a textbook on origami.

Pepper bends down as if on autopilot, straightening things and dusting down the edge of the shelf. There’s a rectangular clearing where PROOF THAT TONY STARK HAS A HEART had so recently occupied space.

She sinks onto her knees for a moment, the hedgehog’s paws pressing into her fingers. One of the seams has ripped in the body of the fabric, spilling out stray wisps of cotton, and when she runs her palm over its patchwork of hair, smoothing out some of the tangles, its nose perks up as though trying to sniff at her hand.

…

(“Look, Mommy,” Morgan demonstrated for her, vigorously brushing back as much hedgehog hair as she could. “It’s sticking up here – and see, here – also here—”

“I have an idea where you can try that theory out next,” Pepper winked, much to Morgan’s slyly growing delight.

“Like…Daddy’s head?”

“No, sweetheart,” and their little girl giggled again as Tony looked at them both in mock betrayal, “not like Daddy’s head.”)

…

One of the paper clips comes loose, dangling uselessly before slipping between Pepper’s fingers. She watches it fall, blurring together with the rug at her feet.

Her shoulders shake, and then they’re only shaking harder as she folds herself up, as small and still as she can make her body so that Morgan doesn’t see her cry.

Grief surges up from every corner, so cold it burns everywhere that it touches, and just when she thinks she has nothing left it comes crashing out of all that nowhere again, drowning, drowning, if only it would just let her fucking drown.

…

(“That little guy can help predict the weather too, you know.”

“Oh, not that hedgehog theory again.”

“Theorem, Potts. Theorem. And hear me out – you’re looking particularly ravishing today, by the way—”

She rolled her eyes good-naturedly, but he kissed her neck and it made her feel so very warm all the same.

“—so Earth’s atmosphere, right? A spherical surface.” He took her face into his hands. “Let’s say there’s a storm brewing, blowing its wind east to west. There are – guaranteed – at least two spots where everything stands perfectly still. There is no wind.” Tony leaned in to kiss her forehead. “Here.” He tipped his head down to hover his mouth over hers as she smiled. “And here, too.”)

…

Pepper’s lost him so many times, but he always found his way back to her in the end. This time shouldn’t have been any different.

This time shouldn’t have been any different.

Everything’s quiet. The music has stopped, even the clinking of silverware, plates, all the small talk. Maybe she’s imagined it, but she can’t hear anything else beyond the soft raggedness of each breath as it shakes its way in and out of her body.

“Mrs. Stark?” A voice, sounding more distant than it probably is, and then a light awkward tapping on her shoulder. “I mean, Miss Potts. Mi—umm.” Peter Parker clears his throat, and she blinks, blinks, blinks until the hand he’s held out to her comes into focus. “I think you dropped this.”

She takes the paper clip, and manages a watery chuckle when Peter moves his other arm around, into her line of sight, and Morgan’s at the other end of it, holding on to his wrist. There’s a smear of ketchup on her chin, and Happy close behind her, a crumpled up napkin in hand.

“Oh, my darling girl.”

Pepper opens her arms, and Morgan climbs onto her lap, tiny hands already hard at work to wipe away the wetness on her cheeks. Her fingers dance over the smile that Pepper musters for her, and then Harry’s face pops back into view, Morgan carefully lifting him up to give Pepper a fuzzy little kiss on the nose.

“I miss Daddy.” Morgan’s voice is so small – the smallest, most powerful sound that Pepper has ever heard, but now’s not the time for her to break anymore.

“I know.” Pepper tucks her hair back, pressing a kiss to her forehead. Morgan burrows closer, the weight of her settling like a permanent warmth into Pepper’s chest. “I miss him too.”

“He’s really not coming back?” She’s cradling Harry, touching the open seamful of cotton with unsteady fingers.

“No, sweetie. But he loved you so, so much.”

Peter’s furiously rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand, and Pepper beckons him over, patting the spot of rug next to them. He looks uncertain, but it doesn’t last long before he’s collapsing himself down, shoulders quaking as she puts her arm around him too.

Morgan sniffles into her neck, her whole body tightening as though trying to resist all this sadness she still doesn’t know what to do with, how to make it go away. Pepper murmurs soothing things in her hair, and then she closes her eyes, if only for a few blessed seconds, so that the world can stop spinning and just give her daughter a moment to cry.

It almost hurts, not to let herself cry with her.

“Hey, Miss Pepper?” says Peter, after a while. He’s dabbing his nose with a clean handkerchief that his Aunt May has just brought him. He points at the hedgehog, its missing paw still clutched in her hand. “What is…that?”

Morgan pipes up, before Pepper has a chance to say otherwise, “This is Hairy Ball.” The words come out a bit gargly and hoarse, but she straightens a little, looking pleased that someone is asking.

Happy coughs out a laugh into his hand. At the edge of Pepper’s vision, she sees Nick still over by the food, his one good eyebrow nearly shooting right off of his forehead.

Peter, meanwhile, looks simply floored. “As in the theorem? Cool.”

“See, Mommy?” Morgan wipes at her eyes, and graciously passes the hedgehog over for Peter’s perusal. “Daddy and I told you.”

“You most certainly did.” Pepper leans back as Morgan points out all of Harry’s features, Peter following raptly along and nodding his head at all the right moments. That crack in her chest opens just a bit wider, leaving a hitch in her breath that aches, and aches, and aches.

Her eyes are burning again.

But it’s okay, Pepper thinks, because there’s no other option. She’d made a promise to Tony that they were going to be okay. She has to believe it will look different from this, someday, but for now—

For now, they can take turns standing still.

[ao3.]

[insane-control-room]

The Sketch

Chapter Two, Segment One

Next 

Full chapter on Ao3 here

The death threats were surprising, at least a little bit at first. But then they became more and more frequent, and he no longer cared.

And they were rather childish, too.

Cut from newspaper shreds and pasted sloppily onto a piece of salty scrap paper sloppily, it did not matter much to Johan.

He felt safe, even though much of his knowledge had been temporarily… relocated.

Johan laughed it off when he met with Henry at the park, though the other man seemed perturbed by the little paper.

“It’s a bad sign, Johan,” he said, shaking his head. “I don’t like it.”

“Oh, please, who on earth would assume that Joey Drew lives in his g-gosh diddly darn studio?” Johan chuckled, rolling his eyes. “I’m perfectly s-safe, sweetheart.”

“Joey, what if they do find out?” Henry pressured. “Who knows who this is, and you have no way of protecting yourself.”

“Yes I do,” Joey lied, avoiding meeting his eyes. “I-I have my sh-shotgun.”

“Which you told me that you returned to your brother when you visited Night Vale.”

“Oh… I told you that?”

“No, I guessed, actually.”

“You sneaky animator….”

“You gullible artist.”

Johan sighed, crumpling the death threat in a fist, tossing it into a trash bin a few meters away.

“Joey, I really don’t trust this stuff,” Henry stirred, restarting the conversation. Johan’s ears flicked back in minor annoyance, releasing a huff. “Seriously, as your doctor, I dictate this as bad for your health.”

“You’re not a doctor yet, Stein,” Joey retorted in a warning tone. “You still haven’t gotten that f-fancy schmancy degree of yours yet.”

“Oh, you be quiet,” Henry grumbled, running a hand through his curls. Joey chuckled at his insulted expression. “Don’t remind me. We still need to study for my next exam.”

“What’s it on again? Muscles?” Johan tilted his head, bright eyes glinting as he looked at the rather short future doctor. “Or is it on joints?”

“Muscles, I’m pretty sure,” Henry replied, stretching, his hand coming to rest on Joey’s shoulder. “Joints is the next exam.”

“Mhm.” Joey yawned, sharp white teeth glinting slightly in the afternoon sun’s shine. “What d-do you think, Henry? About… about D-Disney and Fleischer? Should I really-ly, truly be worried about a little bit of c-competition? I think it’s good for the industry.”

“What you think and what they think are entirely different things, Joey,” Henry informed him with a measure of tiredness. “We don’t know what they’d be willing to do. They threatened to kill you, Joey… like, damn, that’s a step too far, don’t you think?”

“Maybe,” he shrugged. “They also didn’t explicitly say they’d kill me, they just said that ‘I should stop making toons or else’. There’s a lot of things th-that can f-fall into ‘else’, you know.”

“I know,” Henry answered, leaning his head against Johan’s heart. “I’m just… just worried about you. I don’t want you to get hurt, especially not because of this, because of drawing and doing what you love….”

“Henry, it’s f-fine,” Joey tried to reassure him. “I’m fine. It’s okay. We can do this, together.”

“I sure hope so,” Henry murmured, shaking his head slowly, eyes closed. “I really do.”

They soon parted, Joey having to return to the studio and Henry to school, though they walked together for as much as they could, chatting quietly about the world and their worlds together alone, the cartoon universes that they flourished together. Joey giggled at one of Henry’s quips, and made an easy pun as a reply, so normal and casual for them both that they could ignore the fact that none of the time they had together was permanent. Johan was afraid. But also, excited. They were making the world anew, a fresh start, a second wind.

Johan’s hair fluttered in the air, the breeze ruffling his wisps. Henry was illuminated by the sun, a halo of mist around him, like an ethereal faery, and yet they stalked together, a shadow and a beam, so entwined it was impossible to tell who was which. Henry’s large and smooth palms reached for Joey’s long and calloused fingers, wrapping around them like a babe might for comfort, a gesture soon returned with a quick squeeze by Joey. As they neared the point where they would have to split, their shared grip grew tighter, ever more reluctant to part. They stood in silence at the street corner, each looking it the direction that the other would need to go, and simultaneously looking at the other. Bright sky blue eyes caught rose red ones, fastening them together even more.

“Well,” Joey cleared his throat, smiling weakly and waveringly. “Don’t be late to class, darling.”

“And you,” Henry patted Joey’s hand, cocooning it for a few moments, “Don’t get killed on the way back home, okay? It would be a mighty big shame and a huge loss for the world.”

“I won’t,” Johan promised with a nearly blinding grin, eyes crinkling slightly. “It’s not as easy as you might think to get rid of me, you know.”

“Yeah,” Henry’s smile faded slightly, and he reached up to touch Johan’s cheek. “I know. I love you, Joey. You know that, right?”

“Of-f course I know that, I-I breathe it, it gives me life, and makes me feel, o-oh, so weightless,” Johan reveried to him, shoulders falling, smile growing, and brows knitting with genteelness. “My love to you in return is s-so very, very boundless. I could s-spend all eternity f-fêting you.”

“Cut the prose and poetry, Jo,” Henry chuckled, clearly not meaning it in the slightest, standing on tiptoe and pulling Johan down to kiss his chin, missing his cheek. “I keep forgetting that you’re trying to grow out your beard… hm… you’re going to have to lean down more often.”

Joey giggled, blushing, touching where Henry kissed him with two fingers, and he bowed to kiss Henry’s brow.

“For luck, sweetheart,” he told him, turning around to return home to bury his face in a pillow and explode with joy. Every moment was a blessing.

“Bye, Joey,” Henry called. “Love.”

There was a small crowd conglomerated around the door of the studio, murmuring and whispering uncomfortably.

Johan sighed and ducked around a corner, pulling his mask out of his pocket, a pocket that clearly should not have been able to contain the Bendy face, additionally slipping on a pair of white gloves to complete the façade. He tapped the shoulder of the person closest to him of the crowd, and they turned around, and looked up, eyes widening, and then stepped aside for their boss with a nod. The coterie split, a red sea for a chosen personage.

Similar to the red sea, there was a desert before him at the end.

There was a knife stabbed into the door of Joey Drew Studios.

Not a bird chirped, not a dog barked, not a single one of Joey’s hundreds of bees bumbled, complete silence reigned over the expanse before the empty studio.

“Why is no one going inside?” Joey asked Ms. Lampbert, who stood beside him. She shifted. “Well? Is there a specific reason that we’re avoiding making the best damn cartoons around?”

A murmur swept through the mass, everyone looking up at the gentle giant that lead them with complete and total penchant. Joey’s mask smiled as he did, enchanted to copy his expressions. The uneasy plethora of people relaxed and smiled back. They could feel that they were in good hands, they all knew that Joey loved them all, and cared for each of them to the depths of his tremendous beating heart.

“We are a studio,” Joey spoke, head held high, slender fingers plucking the knife out of the door, pulling away the note stabbed into it and crumpling it, tossing it to the ground. “We are artists, creators, magicians of the screen!”

“And of the heart!” Jack Fain chimed in, grinning. “And who knows what black magic and tricks you’ve got up your sleeve, Mr. Drew.”

“Absolutely!” Johan beamed back, laughing for a few moments, plucking a yellow rose out of his pocket and tossing it to the bear of a man. Some of the junior animators giggled with delight as he bowed toward them. “We are prodgedies! We are the face of the new animation industry! Youthful, yet with our elders to guide us, a huge thank you to Mr. Polk, Mr. Cohen, Mx. Benton, and of course, my dear Uncle Bertie!”

Applause ripped through the motley crew, enthusiastic and energized.

“We’ve had a lovely late start today, a nice after weekend gift from all of us for our hard work,” Joey gestated, beginning to walk through the assembled workers. “Are we going to let this flimsy piece of metal stop us from working hard, working happy, and spreading smiles all around?”

“No!” was the resounding call back. Joey lifted the knife and stabbed it into an Alder tree.

“So let’s go in, and make some toons, eh?” Joey grinned at everyone, stalking through the group, opening the door for everyone. He nodded, and that was the end of that. A small hand grabbed his sleeve as the studio all filed in and punched in. Joey looked down to see Linda gripping his sleeve, looking up at him with big hazel eyes. He patted her head. “What are you up to, my darling little Linda?”

“Nothin’ much,” she replied, smiling at him sweetly. “Are you gonna be making the toy store yet, Uncle Joey?”

He reached under his mask to run his fingers over his beard, looking up to the ceiling as he slowly walked with the young girl. “I’m working on it, but I’m not sure when I’ll be able to get it up and running… I haven’t found the right worker for the zone. I’m still waiting for the correct candidates, you know.”

“Can I help?” Linda asked, skipping ahead to walk backwards in front of him. “I’m a good people person, right?”

“That you are,” Joey chuckled at her lively antics. “What’s your favorite up and coming toy idea?”

“I like the little robot Alice!” she excitedly replied, referring to the miniature model of the animatronic in Johan’s workstation. Joey blinked, storing that information away. “I think that it’s really cool to be able to talk to your toys and hear them reply!”

“Sounds good,” Joey nodded, the cogs of his mind churning a vast multitude of ideas and concepts to approach and tackle. He hummed as she and he walked together through the corridors, greeting the employees they passed, Linda receiving many hugs and slipped a lot of candies. Joey chuckled as Linda devoured another chocolate. “Henry’s gonna kill me for this.”

“So?” she asked, her mouth covered with the sugary cream. “I’m only five!”

“He’s going to accuse me of corrupting his prodigy,” Joey solemnly countered, but he grinned and winked, the mask still copying his expressions. “So… keep it hush hush.”

“Got it,” Linda smirked. “I’ll make sure he never learns of this.”

“That sounds vaguely threatening,” Joey remarked.

Linda’s smirk only turned to a wide toothy grin.

Eventually, Joey passed the duty of watching over Linda to Lacie and Bertrum, as the two of them never worked manually at the same time, as to enable them to be at their maximum efficiency.

And Joey went down, down, down, all the way down to his office.

He frowned at the mess on his desk.

Papers, papers, bills, documents, copyrights… there was so much to do.

He grabbed his computer.

when; (AtDesk), (papers); SORT: (PRIORITY1, PRIORITY-1)

To his dismay, another crudely written death threat was on the top of the now arranged stacks of paperwork. His shoulders slumped, and Gracehopper landed on the threat. Joey frowned. If even she was saying that it was urgent, it seemed to certainly be so.

He sighed and picked it up, smoothing it out and adjusting his glasses under his mask.

If you don’t go public with who you are, there will be a reconing. Disney and Fleischer

Johan burst out laughing.

Not even checking their spelling! How bloody absurd!

Shaking his head and chuckling to himself, he threw it away.

Gracehopper returned it to his desk.

He frowned at the moth.

“Come now, it’s just a paper,” Joey rolled his eyes, his mask quite comically mimicking the action. “There’s nothing they can do to me.”

Gracehopper fluttered at him angrily.

“Fine, fine, I’ll read it again,” he grumbled, feeling chastised. He scanned over it. Nothing changed. What was he supposed to be looking for? He turned over the paper. What was that in the corner? He squinted at it, trying to make out the faded writing. His expression vanished. He blinked, rereading the small lettering. “What…?”

Flynn Brothers Syndicated.

A lump grew in Joey’s throat.

No, Disney and Fleischer would not resort to that, right? They would not, would they…?

But it was written, clear as day, on the backside bottom corner, tucked away innocuously.

Johan trembled in his chair, staring at the lettering.

His hands shook, and his mouth dropped open in shock.

What was he going to do?

He quickly stood up, feeling a rush of dizziness, and he berated himself for not eating. His legs shot up a spike of pain, and he wobbled uneasily.

Still, he rushed out of his office, running down to Bertrum’s work area.

“Uncle Bertie,” he huffed, out of breath. “I… I… um….”

The Bendy Land workers stared at him and Bertrum. Joey blushed, hoping that it would not show up on his mask.

“Maybe we should go somewhere else to discuss this….” Joey mumbled, feeling eyes on him. Bertrum studied his posture, and he nodded, briskly leading Johan to his office. Joey shuttered the blinds when they got in. “It’s about the threats.”

“I thought you said that they were of no concern?” Bertrum interrogated, lifting an eyebrow. Johan wordlessly passed him the note, pointing at the concerning bit hiding in the corner. Bertrum’s brows rose, and he frowned. “Well, this is serious….”

“I’m… I’m f-frightened,” Johan told him, his natural stutter slipping into his voice. “Th-they’re really doing this, are, are they?”

“It appears so,” Bertrum scowled, tossing the paper on his desk. “But… I think the safest place is the studio. It’s unsuspecting.”

“Okay, o-okay, it’s fine,” Johan tried to assure Bertrum, but seemed to be assuring himself even more. “I’ll be fine… r-right?”

“I… I don’t know,” Bertrum confessed. “I don’t know the ‘future’ anymore, Johan. Not since you broke the loops.”

“Henry and I,” Joey corrected, raising a finger. Bertrum huffed a small laugh, leaning against the wall. “What, it’s t-true!”

“Yes, yes, I know,” Bertrum nodded, smiling at him softly. Joey relaxed. “Still… I don’t want you attracting any extra attention. Pretend to leave to go ‘home’, and then go back late at night.”

“Sounds… sounds good,” Joey shakily replied. Bertrum clapped him on the shoulder and smiled at him waveringly.

Joey mustered one back.

[icyhot-writes]

Two Worlds Apart Part 1/?

Main Characters: OC Kamiko Kaori + Shoto Todoroki

Fandoms: Sailor Moon and Boku No Hero

Chapter Rated: SFW

My name is Kamiko Kaori, and I’m from Crystal Tokyo in the 30th Century! Or at least I was. I guess I should tell you I’m also Sailor Star Galaxy, the last generation in the Sailor Soldiers. I possess all the powers of the Other Sailor scouts, and was trained to be a last line of defense and to step in should any of the other scouts fall. During a fight with our latest enemy, the return of the Negaverse, a tear in space was ripped open. Sailor Pluto and I attempted to seal it up, but not before I was sucked in. That’s when I woke up in this archaic world, where almost everyone possessed some type of power. Or “Quirk” as they called it. But that was almost eight months ago. I thought Neo Queen Serenity would have come for me by now. But it seems that this new world was now my reality. And that brings us here! Standing at the gates of the esteemed U.A High School, wondering what I was possibly doing there.

“Hey Kamiko! You made it!” called Yaoyorozu, or as Kamiko knew her as, Momo. She ran towards Kamiko, two other girls at her side. Yaoyorozu had come across  Kamiko within her first few days in the strange land. Hungry, beaten, and scared, Yaoyorozu showed pity on the girl and took her home. As she nursed Kamiko to health the two soon became friends. Eventually, Kamiko told Yaoyorozu her story, being Sailor Star, and how she ended up there. In return, Yaoyorozu taught her about their world of heroes and quirks. She was the only person Kamiko trusted. A few weeks ago, she convinced Kamiko to return to school, specifically…to apply to UA.  

“Hey Momo.” Kamiko smiled at her. “Are these your friends?”

“Yes! Guys, this is that girl I told you about. Kaori Kamiko, Meet Uraraka and Ashido .” Momo introduces them.  

“Is it true you’re an alien!?” the pink girl pushed forward, a little too close for comfort.  

“Ashido!” Yaoyorozu scolds her. “I swear not everyone knows. Just Ashido, Uruaka and Jiro.”

Kamiko dismissed it with a wave of her hand.  

“It’s okay. To be fair, the word Alien is relative. From my point of view, you guys are the aliens.” She joked with a smile. She used a hand to push a wisp of violet hair out of her face. "But I suppose I am. I’d rather not talk about it right now though. I have to stay focused for the entrance exam.”  

“Right! Well come on! We’ll take you!” Uraraka smiled, grabbing Kamiko and dragging her through the campus. “It’s so rare that UA will make an exception and do an entrance exam mid-semester. You must have a crazy strong quirk!”  

“Well uhm...something like that.” Kamiko stammered out, feeling her cheeks heat up. It was so weird going from a world where powers had hidden identities to a world where almost everyone had them. Even displayed them.  

“Hey look!” Ashido pointed up at the building. “That’s Principal Nezu, All Might, Mr. Aizawa, Mr. Yamada, and Ms. Kayama. They must be waiting for you.”  

“Huh? And that’s our homeroom class. I wonder why they are here.” Yaoyorozu stated curiously.

“Ah, Kamiko Kaori! Thank you for joining us this morning.” The …well…mouse spoke to her. I really needed to stop being so surprised at this point. She thought to herself. "Please bear with us, the arena is finishing being prepped. It is so rare an occasion we do exams like this in the middle of a semester; we needed to adjust a few things.”  

“It’s I who should be thanking you.” Kamiko and bowed respectfully. “I am so grateful this opportunity Principal Nezu.”  

The teacher who looked like he pulled one too many all-nighters stepped up. If Ashido named them in order, this should be-  

“My name is Aizawa. This is my homeroom. They will be participating in the arena with you to keep things semi-fair like the normal exam. However, keep in mind each of the students here have not only passed the exam, but already have hero training. But seeing as this is an exceptional case, this shouldn’t be a problem.” He spoke in a monotone, bored voice.  He turned to the group of students. “I doubt I need to say this but it’s in your best interest to try in this. This will be treated as pop quiz. Turn your attention to Present Mic and he will explain the rules.”  

The next teacher to speak was the exact opposite of Aizawa.  

“Alright Listeners, this may be a repeat for some of you but it’s a remix!” he spoke energetically, causing Kamiko to cringe. “Three different types of faux villains are stationed in each battle center. You earn points for each of them based on their level of difficulty. Your goal is to use your Quirks to earn points by immobilizing the faux villains. BUT THIS TIME, attacking other examinees is ALLOWED.  Why? WELL because the zero-point villains that are normally robots will be some of your classmates. That’s right folks, some of your peers have been briefed beforehand and will be sabotaging the others as double agents!” he spoke with such enthusiasm even at the last part.  

Kamiko’s violet eyes scanned the class for a clue on who may have been against her, but everyone looked equally shocked. She made contact with a boy with red and white hair. One brown eye. One blue. He turned away from her almost instantly. Kamiko continued to watch him until Momo bumped her.

“Gawk later. Pay attentinon.” she whispered. Kamiko rolled her eyes, tuning back in.

“Now remember young heroes! Attacking does NOT mean injuring. Although we have Recovery Girl standing by, that doesn’t mean you go all out. Use your best judgment on when to pull back.” All Might instructed. “Anyone caught using excessive force WILL fail.”  

“This should be fun! I didn’t have to take the last exams.” Yaoyorozu whispered to her. “It’s cool to see what it was like.”

“I, uh, just have one question.” Kamiko spoke, a raising a hand.  

“Yes Miss Kaori?” All Might answered her.  

“I’m sure you’re aware, my “quirk” works differently, should I transform now or once the test has begun?” she asked, not wanting to break rules.  This gains some looks from the other students, and she quietly cursed herself for drawing attention.  

“Once the test has begun. After all, you can’t always prepare ahead in a real battle.” Principal Nezu smiled giddily. She nodded clutching the broach on her chest. It was similar to Sailor Moon’s and held a piece of the silver crystal handed down to her. “We shall all go to the observation room then. Good luck Miss Kaori. You as well my students!” With that All Might scooped up the teachers with a hearty laugh, and bounded into the air.  

“Is he always like that?” she asked with an amused smile. But before anyone could answer, the doors to the exam slammed open. Everyone ran in, Kamiko at the back of the pack. She was going to need a boost. She ran towards the side of the tunnel using the wall to jump over the other students. “COSMIC PLANET POWER!” she yelled out mid-air, and began to transform into her sailor form.

Her violet hair released from its bun and flowed down her back as purple glowing ribbons wrapped around her body. She landed on the other side of the crowd, looking over her shoulder at them in her purple, black and white senshi outfit. They all were staring at her surprised, except for Momo who had seen her transform before. “Well? Are you all just going to stand there?” she smirked.

“She’s right!” an overly excited boy saluted, the engines in his legs boosting him towards the robots. “Sorry Ma’am, but this is competition! And Class 1A does not lose!” At that rate he was going to get to those bots before she could.  

“Jupiter Thunder….” Kamiko yelled, crossing her hands like the former sailor had taught her.  An antenna rose from her tiara. “CRASH!”  

“Iida jump!” Yaoyorozu warned her classmate. He did as he was told, just narrowly avoiding her thunder blast at the robots.

“Whoa! A thunder quirk!” A boy with spiky green hair gasps.  

She smiled to herself, watching as the robots twitched and fell.

“We’ve got to slow her down!” He moved toward her with incredible speed, a green light shooting around his body. Kamiko jumped back, just barely dodging his hand grabbing at her. Another hand grabbed her shoulder. It was rock hard, but still she managed to flip them onto to the ground, a blur of red hair catching her eye as she slammed them.

“Sorry!” she winced before running off.  

I need to get away from the group as fast as possible. She thought looking for a solution.  High ground would be best so I can survey what I’m up against.  She spots a building with an overhang and ran towards it.  

“Venus Love Me Chain!” she yelled and the heart shape golden chain latched on to the edge. Kamiko jumped into the air, the chain pulling her higher, kicking a few more robots down as she went.  

“OH NO YOU DON’T!” A yell came from behind her.  A blonde boy with spiky hair was using blasts from his hands to chase after her. The look of anger on his face was terrifying. “I WON’T LOSE TO YOU!”  

She removed her broach and willed it into Pluto’s staff. It quickly took the form and she aimed it at the boy. “Deadly Scream!” the sonic blast hits him and the neighboring robots, sending them all back towards the ground, a slew of profanities leaving his mouth. “Nothing personal!” Kamiko yelled back just as she reached the top of the building.  

Everyone seems to be either fighting amongst themselves or the other robots. Kamiko looked down trying to think which attack would only harm the robots, when a wall of ice suddenly hurtled towards her, knocking out tons of robots simultaneously. She went to avoid it but was too slow. The ice began to encase her, grounding her feet in place. She pressed her hands together. “Mars Fire Ignite!” The fire shot out and circled her, melting the frosty cage in the process.  On the outside of the wall, the boy with the half white, half red hair looked at her with that same stoic face from earlier.  Did that attack come from him?  

“So, you have a fire quirk as well.” He said coolly. Stating the obvious much?

“It will take more than a measly snow globe to keep me down.” She huffed twirling the staff in her hand. He didn’t answer her, instead examining her, most likely thinking of what move to do next. He shot another ice blast, but it avoided her, instead taking out the robots on her flank. She looked at him curiously. That attack was too precise to have been an accident. If he was a double, why would he help her?  

“Thank you.” She said softly. He still didn’t answer, instead running at her, an icy chill escaping from his lips.  He began shoot ice blast after blast at her. Or Not. She thought breaking the attacks with her staff. What was with this guy? She moved to evade him and he formed another ice wall to block her path. That’s when she put it together. He was making her waste time on him. Bastard can’t block what he can’t see. “Mercy Bubbles Blast!” she yelled, making a thick mist. She danced around him making noise with her staff to confuse him on her location. But he was smarter, fire blasts began to shoot out, not only shocking her, but causing her mist to thin out. “Venus love me chain!” She shot the chain in the direction the flames came from, trapping his body. Or what she thought was his body. When she pulled, the chain tightened but didn’t budge. Even if he was stronger, she should have felt a little tug. The mist continued to thin out and she saw she had actually wrapped around a pole. Shit. “Mirror.” she said softly, planning to use Neptune’s Mirror to see where he was hiding. But as the staff morphed, a warm hand grabbed her, pushing her against the pole.

The cold sharp point of an icicle was pointed at her neck. “You put up quite a fight.” His icy breath whispered in her ear, sending shivers down her. “but you’re done now.” Anger radiated through her body. How could she fall for such a ploy?

“You’re the one who’s done.” She spoke through gritted teeth. She slowly angled the mirror until she saw his reflection in it. “Submarine..Reflection.”

The mirror shot out a bright blast, forcing him back and onto the ground. “Mars Flame Sniper!” she said and her fire took the shape of a bow and arrow. She shot Four hours into his shirt, pinning him, even if it’s for a moment. “Stay down, please.” the violet haired girl begged. “ I need this.”

To her surprise, he laid his head back, not resisting. Kaori ran to the edge of the building, looking down at the other students fighting the robots. She aimed her bow, and began to shoot the flaming arrows at as many robots as she could manage. Then a loud buzzer rang through her ears.  

“TIMES UP!” Present Mic’s voice boomed through the air. She disarmed her bow, the fire disappearing in thin air, as well as the arrows pining the boy. Was that last attack enough to make up for lost time?

The sound of ice crinkling caught her attention as a large ice slide formed down the building. Her opponent stood at the edge and then slid down to the bottom. Kamiko rewrapped her chain around the pole and jumped off the building. Once at the bottom, she detransformed to her normal clothes and the broach returned to its place on her chest.  Quick hands began to return her hair into it’s messy bun. She made eye contact with Uraraka who quickly ran over to her. “Kaori, that was incredible! “She smiled, hugging Kamiko tightly. “I had no idea you were that powerful.”  

“You even held your own against Todoroki! And he’s our strongest classmate!” Ashido appeared giddily.  

“HE IS NOT!” The voice of the angry blonde boy from earlier boomed. He pushed through the crowd toward her, and she had half the mind to turn back into Sailor Star Galaxy. “You may be strong, but you’re not stronger than me GOT IT?! Neither is Icy Hot! I will Destroy-“  

His voice cut off as a red headed boy clamped a literal, rock hard hand across his mouth.  

“Sorry about Bakugo. Just ignore him, it’s what most of us do.” he smiled at her as he held the other boy back. “I’m Kiroshima! And you were seriously awesome! I didn’t see that flip coming!”  

“Oh that was you?” Kamiko remembered the person she had slammed earlier, and put two and two together. “I really am sorry! Are you alright?”  

“No worries! My quirk is hardening. Takes a lot more than a few body slams to hurt me.” Kiroshima chuckled. “Speaking of, you have some major quirks yourself. How many do you have?”  

“I counted six! Thunder, Chain, Fire, Bubbles, Sonic Waves and that transformation in the beginning! ” the green hair boy from earlier ran up. “Do your quirks only work after that? It must be why you asked principle Nezu. And is that staff thing apart of you? How did you get so many quirks?” he shot question after question; Kamiko barely able to keep up.  Her back pressed against the stone wall of the building behind her as the rest of the students gathered around her, eager for answers.

“I..well..” she said softly, not used to so much attention at once. Just as it was becoming too much, an ice wall thin enough to see through separated her from the rest of the group. She turned her head and at the end stood Todoroki.

“, Enough.” he said in a monotone voice. They locked eyes for a moment. “Let her breathe.”

“Oh… Sorry Kaori.” Midoriya apologized and the boy let the wall down once everyone took a step back.  

“It’s okay. I’m just not used to so much attention.” Kamiko gave a sympathetic smile to him. She looked over at Todoroki, but he was already walking away from them. Her lips curved into a frown.

“Amazing Job Students!!” All Might’s voice bellowed, as he and the other teachers came from seemingly nowhere.  

Aizawa sighed getting in front of All Might. “As I’m sure you all figured out, Midoriya, Bakugo, Todoroki, and Kiroshima were all on the double agent roster. They were all able to secure multiple sabotages while continuing to attack robots. From lowest to highest, Kiroshima, Midoriya, Bakugo, and Todoroki.”

“DAMN YOU DEKU!! ” Bakugo screamed, as Kiroshima sighed next to him, placing another solid hand on the boy’s mouth. Kao Midoriya ri assumed it was a common occurrence as Aizawa ignored the boy.  

“Additionally, everyone can see their scores in the post outside. However, I will announce the top three scores for our non-double agents. In third place, with 30 points, was Tanya Iida.” The boy with rockets in his legs smiled, but there was a small hint of sadness in it. At least your scores don’t depend if you get to stay Kamiko thought nervously. Aizawa continued. “In second place, Momo Yaoyorozu with 32 points. And lastly-“Aizawa was cut off by the excitement of All Might.  

“KAMIKO KAORI!! 40 points!” He bellowed.

“First place…that means…. that means she got in right?!” Momo asked excitedly. All might opened his mouth but was shushed by Aizawa.

“Yes, against better council, she technically did.” Aizawa spoke harshly.  “But I want to make it clear it is on a probationary basis. Any screw ups and you’re out. And to ensure a decent eye is kept on you, you’ll be in my homeroom. Look around you. These are your new classmates.”

“But sir! She’s a first year. She would have to pass her hero’s examination, receive her probationary license, midterms, finals. I understand she’s powerful but UA’s standards-”

“For reasons I’ll leave up to her to discuss with you all, she’s been considered a special case by the principal. The decision has been made, regardless of any disagreements.” Aizawa shut him up. Kamiko flinched at the harsh tone in the man’s voice. His words said one thing, but his tone implied he agreed with Iida. “Yaoyorozu, you’re excused for the remainder of the day.  Help Kaori get situated in her dorm, in her uniform, the works. You’re all dismissed.”

[thebibliomancer]

Essential Avengers: Marvel Super Heroes Secret Wars #10-12

February, 1985

DEATH TO THE BEYONDER!

Wow, Doom has been beaten to hell in this story, huh?

Couldn’t have happened to a nicer etc etc.

Anyway, lets get to it.

Last times in Secret Wars: Some amazingly powerful being from Beyond the universe called the Beyonder kidnaps a bunch of heroes, villains, shades thereof, and chunks of random planets to put on a big toy commercial where action figures can bonk off each other.

The X-Men ditched the other heroes to team up with Magneto to do their own thing, as they’re wont to do. But still largely helped the other heroes fight the villains. And didn’t even do villain shit even though Magneto advocated for it.

There have been a bunch of fights back and forth between the groups but most recently, Captain America’s group of heroes stormed Doombase and took down the villain group then had to rush to back up the X-Men in dealing with Galactus who wants to eat the planet, as he is wont to do.

Doom busted out of the cell the heroes stuck him in to pull off his master plan with the help of solid sound man Klaw while Reed Richards had a crisis of weird conscience as he became convinced that maybe Galactus should eat the planet. But he eventually helped the other heroes drive Galactus off-planet where the hat horned purple planet eater started to eat his own spaceship, with Doom planning to steal that tasty snack.

And that brings us to now.

Where things are getting super freaky.

Reed Richards’ skeleton viscerally upsets me.

But as Galactus’ ship turns from Mobius ship to energy cloud, the cloud gets ripped away from Galactus and streams towards Doombase.

Captain America sends Captain Marvel to Doombase to check if Doom is behind this Total Doom Move and she zips over to determine, yup, Doom is pulling a total Doom right now.

He’s got himself strapped to a thing under a bunch of Klaw lenses injecting PHENOMENAL COSMIC POWER right into his itty bitty body.

Captain Marvel is going to zip back over to let Captain America and Mr. Fantastic know whats going on but Professor X chimes in her brain that he’ll save them some time by setting up a psychic conference call between her and Reed.

Meanwhile, Doctor Doom finishes consuming the aggregate energy of a spaceship the size of a solar system and trips out a little on omnipotence.

Doom: “By the dark gods! My least whim alters the world around me! Such is the power coursing within me that stone and steel are wisps of nothing which bend and transform in slavish obedience to my merest stray thought!”

Just say no to phenomenal cosmic power.

Also, some omniscience, which lets him see his own brains and into the souls of the people in Doombase.

Annnd. He spots Captain Marvel. Womp womp.

When the psychic connection between her and Xavier is suddenly cut off, the heroes pile into the X-Men’s wrecked ship to fly to Doombase and save Captain Marvel.

Hm. They’ve really been back and forth. They were all just at Doombase and then they came here and now they’re going back to Doombase.

Since the ship is wrecked, Magneto just propels it with MASTERY OF MAGNET and Cap(tain America) praises him for living up to his hype.

Which sets Magneto off on a rant.

Magneto: “I gather, Captain America, that you would have preferred that I fail! Or... was that remark, perhaps, intended to be a ‘well done’ for which I should humble thank you.”

Captain America: “At ease, mister!”

Magneto: “Allies should be ‘at ease’ with one another! What troubles you? Is it my awesome power? Are you jealous? Afraid? Or is it merely because I am a mutant that you are not ‘at ease’?”

Captain America: “Now that you mention it, the fact that you tried to kill all of us here several times as part of various evil schemes for world conquest is pretty hard to forget entirely!”

This sort of feels like Magneto is antsy because he hasn’t been villaining as much as he likes. Or like him going ‘today I shall cause problems on purpose.’

But, whoops, Cap says that he doesn’t have a problem with the X-Men which sets off Wolverine on a rant about how Captain America doesn’t do enough for mutants.

Geez, its like the time he unmasked a governmental conspiracy by Richard Nixon to use a mutant powered UFO to take over America doesn’t even count.

Wolverine accuses Cap of not laying off Magneto even though he’s been helpful. I’ll note that all Cap did was tell Magneto good job which Magneto decided was a slight.

Meanwhile, over at Doombase where Doom likes to Doom, Doom is pondering what to do now.

He is now powerful enough to wipe out everyone on Battleworld with a wave of his hand and easily win this Secret Wars. But he’s already so powerful, what could he possible ask the Beyonder for?

Doom: “Are those dust-mote heroes truly my enemies? Or... is there now but one foe in all existence worthy of Doom? The Beyonder himself!”

Mostly because he exists and is more powerful than Doom and that simply cannot do.

Like, Doom notes that he already has all the power he could ever want but there’s someone over outside the universe who has more power so Doom wants it. Even though the power he do have is messing him up.

Truly Doom in a nutshell.

Hm. Is it odd that everyone just decides that the Beyonder is male based on nothing? He does decide to be male when he manifests on Earth in Secret Wars 2 but there’s no basis for the assumption here.

But we have toys to sell so Doom upgrades his armor.

This was another request from Mattel, for Doom (and Iron Man, hence the upgrade he gets from Mr. Fantastic) to be given high-tech costumes.

I personally think they just didn’t want to make capes. Notably, there was never a Thor toy.

In-universe, the new armor is a secret weapon to use against the Beyonder, based on Galactus’ machine and the data Doom got scanning the Beyonder in issue 1.

The heroes but into Doombase to find no one to fight. All the villains are still locked up and Doom is nowhere to be seen. They find Captain Marvel, frozen in light form like a hologram.

Then a massive KRAKABOOOM! shakes the fortress as DOOM goes to confront the Beyonder.

The Beyonder: “Stop! You cannot approach me!”

Doom: “Then approach me, coward -- on your knees, if you have knees! Come! Cringe before your master! Grovel before Doom!”

The conflict starts to shake Doombase apart and a big ol rock falls on Reed’s lower torso and knocks the wind out of him.

The monitors in Doombase also shows that the destruction is worldwide, causing devastation to Zsaji’s village, and doing her an injury.

I assume Denver is also affected. I really want that miniseries focusing on Denverians during Secret Wars.

Colossus tries to tell Johnny that Zsaji has been hurt but Johnny’s attentions are elsewhere.

Human Torch: “I -- I’ve got no time for a chippie now! Reed’s hurt! I’ll send her a card later!”

Geez, Johnny.

Anyway, the fight between DOOM and the Beyonder is so so devastating that its threatening to snuff out the sun.

Which, if nothing else, is impressively bonkers.

But wherever Doom falters, the Beyonder doubles his assault.

Turns out that absorbing the energy of a spaceship the size of a solar system doesn’t make you a match for a guy that can casually wipe out a galaxy.

Doom: “Th-thus -- ? Thus falls Doom? No! No! What is pain to one such as I? I -- I will shut it out. Other men fall prey to the very spectre of death... when her cold embrace seems imminent... they simply swoon into her arms! But I... I am Doom! I -- I deny you, death! Victor von Doom must not die!”

He says this after his leg falls off. For the sake of context.

The world-shaking pauses and an image of Doom appears before the assembled heroes. Trying to come off as confident but blatantly holding his hat.

Doom: “Greetings! I am Doctor Doom! ... Though I am far more than the being you once knew! Indeed, I have transcended mortality -- and yet, I am your champion -- fighting for your sakes! I am about to crush the Beyonder!”

“The Beyonder, in his cosmic arrogance abducted us all and brought us here to do battle for his amusement! ‘Slay your enemies...!’ He said -- but in truth, he is the real enemy!”

“While he can reach us, our universe is not safe from his manipulations! He must be utterly defeated and sealed away beyond the portal before -- or destroyed! In the name of all who exist in our universe, I, Doom, have dared to attack the Beyonder!”

“The battle has gone well. Even now, the Beyonder cringes in terror, marshalling his failing strength against my final assault! Hence, this lull in the strife -- which has allowed me to appear to you and offer you the chance to share in my glorious conquest. Lend me your power! Hasten his certain defeat! Come! Who will join me against our common foe? You have but to touch my hand! Who shall be first?”

“To him, after our victory, I shall grant power beyond measure -- with which to further his noble purposes, of course! You know I speak the truth! You feel it, do you not?”

I mean, Doom has a point. The Beyonder IS the real enemy. If the heroes refuse to kill anyone, the Beyonder is never going to let them go home. Unless this is a secret test of character but nothing I’ve seen would lead me in that direction.

It’s just. Its Doom. Who would trust him with EVEN MORE PHENOMENAL COSMIC POWER?

Magneto immediately steps forward to offer his power to Doom’s service (womp womp) but he meets Xavier’s gaze and hesitates.

Long enough for several Avengers to tackle him away from Doom.

Proving his claim that the fight is definitely in the bag, Doom can’t maintain his GoFundMe hologram and fades away.

Hawkeye, one of the Avengers that tackled Magneto, starts yelling at the X-Men about the company they keep and what it will take for them to realize Magneto is a dick.

But Captain America interrupts Clint. He says that everyone was tempted by what Doom was offering and goes so far as to speculate that Doom was applying some sort of mind control to them and that Magneto just got the biggest dose.

This is all pretty unsubstantiated but he also does point out that Magneto hesitated to grab Doom’s hand and dammit that counts for something.

Meanwhile, Doom is having a bad time.

Trying to crowdfund a Beyonder defeat having not met its goal by the deadline, Doom is at the mercy of the Beyonder.

But the Beyonder is a curious cuss.

I mean, obviously. Why put on a Secret War unless you’re bored and curious.

The Beyonder starts prying into Doom’s brain and forces Doom to remember his ENTIRE BACKSTORY so he can watch.

You probably know it. Roma youth. His mom killed for witchcraft and her soul trapped by Mephisto. Doom studies magic and science to try to contact her. Makes a hellevator device that blows up in his face.

The Beyonder pries into Doom’s desires for: power over the destinies of other men, for freedom for his mom’s spirit, and for his putting on the piping hot mask face to be restored.

All these desires fascinate the Beyonder and he takes his dissection of the Beyonder to an unfortunately literal level and starts flaying Doom to peep his organs.

Meanwhile, the biggest shock yet hits Battleworld and Doombase starts shaking apart.

Captain America goes to free the villains trapped in their cells and finds Wolverine there who agrees that they shouldn’t leave the villains to die in cages, no matter what they’ve done. Magneto is also helping evacuate the captured villains from the medical wing.

Wolverine: “Don’t take this wrong... But you’re a better man than I gave you credit for! I’m an attacker an’ you’re a defender -- but we’re both soldiers! I’m beginnin’ to think you got room in your high-falutin’ ideals for all people... don’tcha -- ? Even if they’re mutants!”

Captain America: “Some of my best friends are people!”

Hah!

Anyway, RIP Doombase. You had a name and that’s more than I can say of the initial hero base or Magneto’s U-fort.

The shaking stops and a glowing orb of light floats down from space in front of the collected heroes.

Oh my god! The rest of the characters are 4-inch figures but Doom is rocking 24 inches and full articulation!

The heroes prepare to fight the Giant-Sized Doctor Doom but Doom bwoop bwoop bwoops back down to their scale and explains that absorbing the Beyonder caused him to be big because of reasons but he’s got a better handle on it now.

Its not shown on panel but remember Doom had his secret anti-Beyonder weapon hidden inside his armor and the Beyonder got real close when he was dissecting Doom. Which Doom regained consciousness during. So that’s how he did it.

Doom: “First, know you these things... The Beyonder no longer exists... and Doom has been reborn! Thus, have two evils come to an end! There is no enemy left to fight! THE WAR IS OVER!”

Caption: “Nonetheless, we strongly suggest that you read the next issue of Marvel Super Heroes Secret Wars on sale in thirty days!!”

Hah.

March, 1985

... AND DUST TO DUST!

I’ll give Marvel Super Heroes TM Secret Wars TM #11 this. It promises and teases THE FACE OF DOOM right on the cover and dammit, it delivers.

Gaze upon his generic attractiveness. He looks like Peter Parker having a wild eyebrow day.

I suppose the real surprise is that he fixed up his scarred face, which puts him two checkmarks into his three greatest desires.

He’s the supreme being in the universe and he’s got a face to match.

In a very reassuring manner, Doom tells the assembled heroes that he could destroy them all with a thought and then doesn’t bother destroying them.

Over in the distance, the freed villains see Doom talking with the heroes and Absorbing Man decides that Doom is selling out to the heroes. The other villains get their dander up at this and debate going over and kicking Doom’s ass.

Volcana: “I don’t know what to think, Owie! Doom is the one who made me into Volcana which is wonderful -- but, gee, he does seem to be double-crossing us!”

Molecule Man: “And I had such faith in him! I believe in him! I -- I’m furious!”

Volcana: “Now, Owie, remember your analyst said it wasn’t good to get overwrought!”

Molecule Man: “I don’t care what she said! I’m going to kill that lying, two-faced, rotten fink! Do you hear me, Doom? The Molecule Man is going to kill you!”

Then Molecule Man flips up several billion tons of the planet’s crust so he can have a conversation with Doom.

Doom just shows Molecule Man the foundations of eternity, the secrets of the universe, how all things work so that Molecule Man can realize that he is the second mightiest in the universe, after Doom.

Doom: “Think! Every molecule, every iota of matter in the cosmos answers to our whim! And all the forces which govern substance bend to your will -- for matter and energy are one and the same! The only limits on your power are those which you have imposed upon yourself, subconsciously because of self-doubt... self-hate... fear! Open your mind to the majesty of your power, Owen Reece! Accept your destiny... and fear no more!”

Molecule Man: “I -- I can control organic molecules! I can do... anything!”

Well.

This bodes something.

Doom then takes off and an amazed Molecule Man declares that he’s now the leader of the villain group. And considering he can peel the planet’s crust in a fit of pique, nobody really wants to say nay.

Molecule Man apparently didn’t want to hurt anyone so when he peeled up the crust, it somehow didn’t hurt any of the heroes. Just relocated them very insistently. Although if they stayed put they’d suffocate from the thin atmosphere.

They return to Doombase, which is somehow still standing. But aside from recapping the series, they really don’t know what to do until Doom makes himself known again.

The villains retreat to the suburb of Denver, Colorado and to the apartment belonging to Marsha Rosenberg (Volcana).

They decide that they don’t actually care about the Secret Wars anymore and just want to go home. And Molecule Man, being a good leader, decides to make this happen for everyone.

Man. I hope none of Denver’s population went wandering outside suburb limits before Molecule Man domed the suburb and chucked it into space.

The heroes spot it happening on their instruments (and because a chunk of planet being ejected into space causes a rumble) but there’s nothing they can really do about it. So Cap suggests everyone sleep on it.

Colossus can’t sleep because he keeps thinking about how deeply he is in love with Zsaji. So he ditches to zip to her village on an air jetski.

Missing a blob of light enter the Doombase and possess the Hulk.

Possessed Hulk lumbers around the base like a sleepwalker, being found by Spider-Woman who can’t sleep for worrying about her hometown of Denver.

She tries to stop Hulk with her psychic webs but he busts through and shoves her to the ground. The weird light blob goes from Hulk to Spider-Woman.

Hulk goes back to sleep and possessed Spider-Woman creeps into Doom’s lab and the discarded head of Klaw.

But there’s a flash of light and soon a confused Spider-Woman is telling the other heroes that Doom showed up, reassembled Klaw, unfroze Captain Marvel, oh and engraved an invitation to the heroes to meet him tomorrow at his sweet new tower.

Klaw: “I told you once -- ! I am my wildest dream! Dream! Eem, eem, eem...”

Doom: “I shall miss dreaming...”

He tells Klaw that he does not need sleep anymore and doesn’t dare sleep anymore because of the power contained in him.

Meanwhile, Colossus arrives at Zsaji’s hut while she’s sleeping and invites himself inside. Its creepy or romantic, shrug. She wakes up, he gives her flowers, and confesses he loves her.

Not really understanding the words but getting the gist, Zsaji seems into it.

I guess she gave up on Johnny. Or her people are polygamous.

Later, Wolverine and Nightcrawler gossip about Colossus’ love life. Neither very sympathetic about Colossus cheating on Kitty Pryde.

You’d think they’d also be unsympathetic about the age gap but eh.

Wolverine is also convinced that Colossus isn’t even REALLY in love with Zsaji, that its just a side-effect of her healing power. PLUS, she’s an alien so who knows what love means to her.

Hm. This really does look like a job for Cipher.

The non-Colossus heroes all go to meet Doom at THE TOWER OF DOOM, where Doom is quick to reiterate that they have nothing to worry about with Doom now possessing phenomenal cosmic power.

Doom: “Much has changed, Captain America! Much indeed! For, when I usurped the Beyonder’s power, slaying him -- in a way, Doom died as well! Now, I am all-powerful! I have nothing to prove to lesser creatures -- and none are my equal! I am complete... serene in my omnipotence! The dark, seething desires which once drove and shaped Doom are no more! Nothing in this universe -- nothing of which you can conceive, no matter how cosmic in scope -- could possible merit my attention! For as Eternity is to you... I am to Eternity! I have transcended all concerns of this plane of existence -- and, yet... we have unfinished business! Loose ends, if you will, left over from my mortal life! I cannot undo all of the evil works of my life without unraveling a great deal of the fabric of reality, causing enormous upheavals in the time/space continuum -- ! I can, though, easily set right some of the crimes of these few days past...”

Its good to see that Doom didn’t let becoming the unchallenged supreme being of the universe change him, at least in regards to words words words.

Anyway, he reintegrates Kang and sends the very confused future man home to the future.

He tells the heroes that Galactus has already been found and aided by his herald, Nova.

Which just leaves the wrong that Doom has done the heroes. He offers them a boon to atone for the suffering they’ve endured at his hands.

The heroes debate what to ask for. Spider-Man suggests that Doom can send them home only for Reed, perhaps peevishly, to remark that he can get them home. Nightcrawler suggests that Doom could find Lockheed, who was part of the intro cast but went missing near the beginning. But Captain America tells Doom that they want nothing from him.

Doom: “Very well! Our dealings are ended! Forever! Leave, now as you entered! Soon I shall ascend to higher planes! Until then -- and mark this -- I will not suffer any disturbance! Go... and do not seek to enter my presence again, for I will utterly destroy any who dare!”

Wow.

His magnanimity sure is short-lived.

The heroes do leave but outside Cap(tain America. Captain Marvel hasn’t had a line since she was unfrozen, I think) does a headcount and Spider-Woman is missing.

Despite the risk of Doom making good on his word to kill anyone that disturbs him, Cap won’t leave a comrade behind and reenters THE TOWER OF DOOM.

Cap stumbles onto Doom chilling with his shirt, mask, and boots off and luckily Doom is either in a good mood or hasn’t counted Captain America as leaving yet.

Captain America tells Doom that Spider-Woman is missing so Doom sends Klaw to go find her.

Klaw goes looking for Spider-Woman but runs into one of her webs. The missing, possessed hero grabs Klaw and transfers the blob of light to him.

Back at Doom having dressed up, maybe feeling awkward about being casual in front of anyone who isn’t Klaw, Doom reveals to Captain America that his mom’s spirit is being held captive by Mephisto and that Doom plans to free her.

Doom: “Is that little enough to ask? Little enough self-solicitude -- ? To free my mother’s soul from endless torment at the hands of an extra-dimensional demon! After that... it is as I said -- no affair of men -- or demons -- could possibly gain my notice!”

Cap comments that Doom is looking pretty human but Doom says its for everyone else’s protection that he keeps the power contained, lest he accidentally wipe out solar systems and galaxies.

Doom: “While I linger on this plane, I am like a giant on a world of ants! Every slight movement I make can seal the destinies of millions! I... do not wish to destroy anyone!”

Klaw returns and tells Cap where to find Spider-Woman so Cap goes off to retrieve her.

The heroes all take off back to Doombase and Cap asks Professor X to summon Colossus because there’s a decision to be made that everyone has to be present for.

Which leads to this delightful scene of Professor X interrupting Colossus as he’s making out with Zsaji.

Despite Colossus telling Xavier to buzz off, Xavier insists that Colossus return and alas duty before booty. Or something.

When Colossus arrives, the heroes all assemble in a conference room that Cap managed to find in Doombase.

Wasp doesn’t see the problem with Doom wanting to rescue his mother and Cap agrees that its a very humane and human thing to want and that in other circumstances Cap would have volunteered to help him.

But its the human that bothers Cap.

It gets back to Jim Shooter’s themes from his non-consecutive Avengers runs. Graviton, Nefaria, Korvac, Molecule Man, and Moondragon.

Godlike power in the hands of the all too human.

Captain America: “Doom claims he’s transcended all human desire! What if he hasn’t? We’ve seen the power of the Beyonder -- Doom’s power -- in action before! It is such power that even now, nothing in the universe can take place without his consent! That kind of authority rightfully belongs to... no man! No matter how enlightened or benevolent he’s become, freedom to do what Doom allows is not freedom!”

Cap is edging very close to ‘attack and dethrone god’ and I don’t know if he means to.

But as Cap points out, the first thing Doom did with his new power was to repair his face. Awfully human-like vanity.

Mr. Reed Fantastic concedes what Cap is getting at and agrees they need to force Doom to give up his power. And where Reed goes, so goes the rest of the Fantastic Three.

Which doesn’t tell you whether its a good idea or not considering they were both behind ‘let Galactus eat us all’ when Reed suggested it.

But the Avengers, the spiders, the Hulk, and the X-Men all agree as well.

Colossus is the last person to speak up and he suggests that if they attack Doom unprompted, maybe they’re the dicks. Doom may never harm them, may do what he’s said he’ll do and ascend to a higher plane of existence and contemplate gluons or whatever.

Captain America: “You may be right, son! I’m not dead certain about any of this! That’s why it must be a unanimous vote... or we do nothing! Don’t think you must agree! The choice is yours... Keep in mind, by the way, that if we do decide to confront Doom, it’s possible that we might be annihilated on the spot by a bolt from the blue!”

Wow, Cap isn’t just telling Colossus he can vote how he likes and not feel he must go with the majority. He’s also giving good reasons NOT to vote with the majority.

That Cap. He loves democracy so much.

Colossus struggles because he’s just found love and happiness and he never got to finish making out. And he’s being asked to possibly throw that all away unnecessarily!

Cap still won’t press Colossus one way or another so Colossus has to speak from the heart.

Colossus: “Forgive me, Zsaji... I say yes... We fight!”

He chose........... poorly?

Wonder what the last issue will be about now that half the cast is dead. Ignoring that we see several of these people alive in an issue set after this but published before.

Ignoring that. I wonder what the last issue will be about.

Good thing we don’t have to wait.

April, 1985

“...NOTHING TO FEAR...”

Okay, see, this is just making me wonder harder.

Hm. I also wonder if this is the first big moment where Captain America’s America Shield gets broken for dramatic effect. I know it happens again in Infinity Gauntlet but that’s some years away.

Anyway, yeah. The twenty-one hero characters and Magneto (twenty-one feels like A LOT, geez) have been totally killed forever and they will certainly stay dead.

To Zsaji’s alarm, since in a bit of establishing relative positions, she can see Doombase from the mountain near her village that Galactus set up his planet-eating equipment on.

Over at THE TOWER OF DOOM, Doom contains the power again.

Klaw: “Seal up the power -- god’s might in a can! Thus, Doom is just another man! But why?”

Doom: “Lest in a careless moment, a casual flick of my little figner might blacken a star system, or wipe out an intergalactic civilization. Lest, like Vishnu. ‘I am become death, the destroyer of worlds.’ This universe is too fragile!”

Klaw: “Such power! Such weight upon your shoulders! Poor Doom!”

Klaw questions whether the heroes are REALLY dead but Doom insists on it.

Meanwhile, Denver floating through space towards Earth.

I wanted to question... like... how much oxygen or food a Denver chunk could contain but Molecule Man laughs at logistics. He can just turn space dust into whatever he needs.

Man, Molecule Man would be great to have on a generation ship.

The villains are still chilling out in Volcana’s apartment, instead of taking over the largest building or whatever. Nice thing about Molecule Man being boss is that he doesn’t really approve of all of that.

Enchantress locks herself in the bathroom because dammit, sometimes you just need alone time to consult with a water elemental for some juicy exposition.

Because its issue 12 and we don’t know anything about the Beyonder really and Doom has already eaten him up so its now or never.

Honestly, time should have been budgeted for it earlier but what can you do.

The water elemental knows some things by gossiping with other spirits asks as price for her exposition that Enchantress “grant me power to walk through fields of flowers as mortals do” but Enchantress just threatens her into it.

She’s not a great boss.

Water Elemental: “In his realm, the Beyonder was everything and everything was him... and he was content! But by chance, an event in our universe opened a pinhole into his beyond-realm -- and through the pinhole he glimpsed the Earth! For the first time in his existence he became curious! So, he began to observe! For years, he watched the Earth! One thing confounded him above all else -- this incompleteness beings of our universe seemed to have -- this thing called... desire!”

So the Beyonder chose subjects of power, presence and palpable desire. The three P’s. And then he either raptured or lured into his game. The Beyonder sorted them according to the nature of their desires, which is why Magneto ended up with the heroes. Because his desire for mutantkind is like the altruistic desires of the heroes. Vs the personal desires of the villain group.

The Water Elemental recaps the war, including an image of Enchantress getting punched by She-Hulk, probably to piss her off. Yadda yadda, Doom played the larger game while everyone was doing punches and managed to usurp the Beyonder.

Water Elemental: “May I go down the drain now, please?”

Except no. Enchantress is still a bad boss and demands that the elemental use her rapport with the water on Battleworld to tell Enchantress whats going on now.

The elemental says she doesn’t have the power to do that so Enchantress dunks the elemental and boils some power into her.

Enchantress sees images of the heroes being effortlessly slaughtered, Klaw waiting on Doom as he relaxes, and Doom planning to invade Mephisto’s realm.

The last question Enchantress asks the rather haggard looking elemental is whether the Beyonder is truly dead.

Water Elemental: “N-no... he is close by Doom. But too weak to act... He is hiding where Doom would never suspect, awaiting an opportunity... a moment of vulnerability.”

Humorously, during this scene, the Absorbing Man starts banging on the bathroom door and asking Enchantress if she fell in.

In the living room, the Lizard is getting antsy about being cooped up.

Lizard: “RRAWRR! Out! Lizard wantss out of thiss humanss’ nesst! Musst be in sswamp! Lizard hates humanss!”

The Wrecking Crew just want to kill Lizard to spare the hassle but Volcana sticks up for him because its in her nature to take care of things. And in the same way he demonstrated with Wasp, Lizard folds into surly obedience as soon as someone is firm but nice with him.

Lizard isn’t the only one that’s antsy, as Dock Ock starts complaining and smashing the walls about how unlikely it is that they’ll ever reach home.

Doctorpus Octopus: “Don’t you fools realize the odds against us ever reaching Earth? An ant dropped in the middle of the Sahara would stand a better chance of getting to Hawaii!”

Molecule Man wanders in and tries to calm down the doctorpus while Enchantress lures Volcana away from the crowd.

Enchantress has decided that its time for Volcana to repay her debt for portaling her over to Molecule Man’s side after he was Wolverine’d. And the blank check cost she’s decided on is for Volcana to help Enchantress return to Asgard immediately to warn her people about the danger that Beyonder Doom poses.

And Volcana can help by ‘donating’ her life-force to power the teleport. And by donate, of course, she means, mystically contractually obligated.

Elsewhere, Molecule Man shows Doc Ock that he’s restored the stars in the galaxy that the Beyonder wiped out and that he’s been learning to do spacewarps too. And that’s how they’ll get home.

Doc Ock has some doubts so Molecule Man wraps him up in a nice, weighted blanket of asphalt and plans to turn him over to the authorities when they get back because he’s beginning to suspect that this supervillain may in fact may not be emotionally healthy.

Molecule Man realizes that Volcana isn’t around and Lizard who saw Enchantress pied piper her away leads MM to interrupt the Enchantress before she can finish draining Volcana or making fat jokes.

She makes a lot of fat jokes. Ffs Amora.

Enchantress teleport flees back to Battleworld but Lizard jumps after her and gets caught up in it.

He scratches her face so she throws him off a cliff.

And since mystically speaking, the Lizard counts as a “lower creature” Enchantress can just rip away his life-force and use it to fix her face and power an uncertain teleport to Asgard.

RIP the Lizard. Although I’m pretty sure you bounce back from this.

Meanwhile, in THE TOWER OF DOOM, Doom is napping while Klaw creeps on him creepily but Doom wakes up and yells at Klaw for letting him sleep.

Why, who knows what his subconscious would do with the Beyonder’s power in his dreams!

Klaw suggests hey maybe Doom would accidentally revive the heroes. Or maybe he already did? Hm?? In fact, Klaw has a theory and he’s going to use his sound hologram powers to put on a little demonstration for Doom.

He posits that Zsaji saw the destruction Doom wrought on Doombase (which we do know that she did do). She finds the... uh chunks that remain of the heroes and uses her healing powers to put them in stasis where cellular life still lingers. But she finds Colossus less damaged than the rest because he instinctively shifted to his armored form at the last instant. Surely his armored skin is better armor than, say, the Thing’s rock skin or Iron Man’s armor.

The story Klaw is telling works better this way so surely it is so.

Zsaji manages to bring Colossus wholly back to life, at the cost of her own.

A grief-stricken Colossus shoves Reed Richards into a healing tank (his elastic body also less damaged than the rest because sure, Reed Richards is more durable than the Hulk, we can just say anything).

So Reed is restored and he uses the technology of Doombase to invent a mass healing device and restores the rest of the heroes.

Klaw: “And they’re on their way here right now! The end... maybe!”

Doom: “Absurd! That couldn’t happen! The odds are impossible!”

Klaw: “Perhaps... but maybe you sort of... helped things along... Maybe you secretly subconsciously wanted them to survive... to rise from the ashes and live again!”

Doom: “You speak madness, Klaw!”

Klaw doubts though because Doom didn’t completely atomize the heroes and suggests turning on his god-mode and verifying that the heroes are really dead.

But now Doom is worried that having heard Klaw spell out a possible way for the heroes to be alive, his slightest doubt might make it so.

(I mean, I’m pretty sure that the light blob that’s possessing Klaw is the Beyonder who is gaslighting Doom for Reasons.)

Doom: “This is madness! I must drive these thoughts, these doubts, from my mind! They are dead! Dead! Dead! And yet... How many times in the past have I thought that Reed Richards was dead? And, if there were one man who might overcome the odds... is it not Captain America? No... no! THEY ARE DEAD!”

Klaw: “Then, again...”

Doom lets the Beyonder power well up but he can’t control it and it starts blasting Battleworld to shit and nearly destroyed all of reality. Doom can’t get his mind ordered and calm.

Klaw offers to destroy the heroes for Doom so Doom grants him “an infinitesimal micro-fraction” of his power, “enough to blacken ten thousand suns.”

GEEZ. I know that the Beyonder was established as being the strongest being in the universe, having come from a universe where all was the Beyonder. But that’s still very alarming.

The heroes rush in because after being murdered in an instant once already, subtlety is out the window.

Klaw intercepts them with a summoned army of monsters and also Ultron. Yes, Ultron is back, back again. Tell a friend. Tell them OH MY GOD RUN.

Then there’s a big two-page spread of everyone attacking everyone because that’s the kind of story this is.

Rad.

The Thing reverts back to meat man Ben Grimm but manages to will power the rocks back on and decides now he can control the changes and starts crying because this is everything he’s ever wanted.

Hulk goes punchies on Ultron but the robot does a plot injury to Hulk’s leg and for an encore makes Iron Man, Wolverine, and Spider-Woman look stupid before just falling apart.

Thanks to Wasp shrinking down, flying in one of the Hulk punch dents and just yanking wires. Yay, Wasp did a thing!

Also, she beat Ultron. She deserves to. Shame that not more can be made of it as a beat, what with everything going on.

Captain America manages to slip past all the monsters and jump kick his way past Klaw, although Klaw threw that little encounter.

Cap reaches where Doom is once again chilling, although this time with his clothes on.

Doom brags that there’s nothing that the heroes can do to harm him in any way, after all, what is a man to one who is omnipotent?

Captain America: “I wouldn’t be too sure about that! After all... you conquered the Beyonder! And why would you have gone through the trouble of killing us in the first place, unless... you were afraid!”

Doom doesn’t like having holes poked in his arguments so he kamehamehas Cap into ashes.

But Cap respawns out of sheer ‘I can do this all day’ness and charges at Doom to be blasted and respawned again.

Okay, so its Klaw who keeps respawning Cap, while letting Doom think its his own stolen power running out of control that keeps doing it.

And having Cap keep popping back into existence and trying to hit him in the face with a metal disc makes Doom lose his every last shit.

The power starts to overtake him and threaten the universe so Cap offers his hand, to serve as an anchor to reality for Doom.

Oh, hey. Just like Cap offered Doom his hand in the first issue but Doom turned it down because he hates pity.

But now, with omnipotence raging out of control, Doom reaches to accept Cap’s hand.

Thems some nice bookends.

Except the feeble remnant of the Beyonder that’s been body hopping bursts out of Klaw and reclaims his power from Doom.

Unpossessed Klaw: “Doom! Doom! Forgive me, Doom! The Beyonder, he took over my body -- ! He used my guile, my wits, my cunning to engineer this! I set you up for this! Doom -- ! I’m so sorry!”

The Beyonder reverts Doom’s armor (and face) back to how it was and then ejects him from the plot. Klaw jumping in to be with his master.

Actually, the Beyonder nopes out of the plot as well. Just kinda abandons this grand experiment into the concept of desire.

And to be fair, half the competitors fucked off. The other half refused to actually kill. And one of the competitors jumped off the board game to steal the Beyonder’s wallet.

At that point, escaping before you have to answer any questions is the right move.

With the fight over, there’s just a whole bunch of wrap-up.

Colossus has a funeral for Zsaji and buries her on the hill overlooking Doombase because fuck those villagers, she probably didn’t have any friends or loved ones who should have a say in this.

While RICHARDSS goes to work on a way home, Spider-Man swings around Doombase for a snack of alien eggplant. Then finds everyone else in the costume making machine room where Professor X has.

Uh.

Made some fashion choices.

Won’t anybody stop him?

Anyway, he intends to keep undermining Storm when they get back to Earth. What a guy.

Spider-Man also learns that none of their costumes respond to thought like his new black costume does and wonders what’s different about his.

Hulk’s leg was busted up by being Ultron’d and his gamma levels have risen so much that they’d short out the healing pods. So Reed makes Hulk a techno crutch and leg brace to help him get around until his natural healing factor takes care of things.

He’s not very pleased at the situation though and snaps at Hawkeye, leading Hawkeye to a thought that hits a lot different post Civil War II.

Hawkeye: “Whoa! Has he ever changed in the last few days! I think he’s losing it -- becoming totally savage and out of control again! Man, I hope I’m wrong! Maybe I’d better make myself a few more arrows -- some real heavy-duty ones -- just in case!”

Curt Connors wanders in and tells a story about waking up in a crater a few miles from the fortress. He says that he’s sure this time the lizard-persona is totally gone forever for reals.

Nightcrawler says its good that Connors found them before they departed so he wouldn’t get left behind, then mentions that Lockheed the dragon would return.

And boom! Lockheed the dragon returns with a lady dragon!

He’s been getting laid this whole time, the little scamp! I assume! Either way, he has contributed absolutely nothing to anything that happened.

Reed decides that Lockheed and Connors showing up isn’t just a coincidence, that the Beyonder left some trace energy behind when he quit the plot. And that the energy is causing a wish fulfillment phenomenon (which sorta makes sense if you think of it like the promise Beyonder promised to fulfill the winners’ desires?)

Mr. Fantastic: “I believe that this... ‘wish fulfillment’ phenomenon we’ve been experiencing is an after-effect of the battle against Doom! The planet itself seems to have been charged with residual energy whichs seems to respond to strong desire, or force of will!”

Cap(tain America) immediately takes off to where he’s keeping all the fragments of his broken shield that he’s been able to find and wishes REALLY hard for it to be fixed.

“It was the product of a freak metallurgical accident -- a metallic disk of unknown composition, and unique properties -- utterly impervious to any force or instrument which humans comprehend. But now it lies before him like a wounded friend... How many times has it saved his life? And now... it’s usefl life is at an end, for no fire could melt it, no furnace could reforge it. It is forever broken... unless by force of will... or sheer desire... He can accomplish the impossible!”

Hey, how about that!

I mean, you could have wished Bucky back to life but on the other hand, it’s a real sweet shield. I get it.

Although, in terms of the pre-post Secret Wars issue teasing what could happen in it (Hulk with a leg brace, She-Hulk with the FF, Spider-Man’s new costume), I really think that Steve should have returned from Battleworld with the broken shield.

Almost everything that’s gonna be brought back from Secret Wars is going to have to be abandoned or turn out to be evil.

It’s going to turn out (years later, mind) that Steve fixed his shield bad with his FORCE OF WILL and that for some reason, imperfections in the shield threaten to destroy ALL VIBRANIUM.

And that’s a decent story, probably.

Just saying, you could have Cap return with a broken shield and get that ‘how did that happen’ hype. Its a really intriguing idea. Although, I’d bet that breaking Cap’s shield was only thought up after the pre-post Secret Wars issues had already been done so it had to be introduced and rectified in Secret Wars itself.

Some other things that didn’t last long from Secret Wars: we already know the black goo costume didn’t even last through Secret Wars. The modifications Reed made to the Iron Man armor stop working when Rhodey returns to Earth, then they evolve into the evil Carnivor and fights Quasar in Quasar. Hulk ditches his leg brace two issues after his return to Earth. Connors turns himself back into the Lizard to save his family a couple years after Secret Wars. And so on.

So the time comes to return everyone back to Earth with the device Reed made. It teleports them in small groups up to the ring-shaped construct that got them to Battleworld where it will teleport them to Earth.

Reed beams up the unaffiliated group first of Spider-Man, Spider-Woman, Curt Connors, Hulk, and Magneto who decided he’s too cool to hang with the X-Men on the ride home.

Next, the X-Men. Although they have to talk Colossus into coming home instead of being sad on a hill forever by convincing him that he’d be wasting the life Zsaji gave him if he didn’t come home.

Colossus letting Xavier talk him into sticking with the X-Men over greater and greater personal losses eventually becomes a sore point.

Lockheed’s girlfriend flies into the teleport as Reed initializes it, causing a dramatic energy fluctuation that Reed hopes won’t cause any problems on Earth.

It does.

Puff the tiny dragon becomes Puff the enormous dragon, and menaced Japan in her quest to mate with Lockeed. The X-Men had to fight her and Lockheed eventually rejected the now much bigger dragon causing her to explode.

Although she came back to life at some point and she and Lockheed did get back together.

X-Men is a weird book.

The Avengers are up next but She-Hulk tells them that she’s joining the Fantastic Four. Now this happened because Byrne made grabby hands at her and Stern didn’t say no but its not really satisfactorily built-up in this story.

Ben and She-Hulk don’t share many moments to establish that they have a good friendship that he could ask her to take his place on the team. In fact, the last time I know of them teaming up, she was a huge sex pest to him. So it makes it even more baffling.

But it happened in the pre-post issue so its gotta happen.

And Ben asks Jen (maybe the similar names is why he asks her? They can get away with only changing a single letter on his locker) because he’s going to stay behind on Battleworld because he can control his powers here.

He’s not planning on being here forever and Reed can leave the gizmo so Ben can return whenever he wants.

What makes this stupid is that like almost everything involving Ben, Reed knows a lot more about what’s going on and just doesn’t say anything. He starts to but doesn’t insist when Ben tells him not to try to change his mind.

The thing about the Thing is that Ben should always have been able to Rock On or Rock Off as he pleased but there’s a psychological block preventing it.

Ben would lose this control before leaving Battleworld and he quits the FF when he learns that Reed knew that it was a psychological issue.

Mr. Fantastic: “If only I could tell him what I suspect about his transformations -- but it’s the kind of thing that might shatter a man... even a strong man like Ben! No, better to say nothing... and hope he slowly discovers the truth for himself... Or hides from it forever!”“

Geez.

You’re so bad at people.

Anyway. Yeah. Needed some more build-up. Maybe centered around the transformation. Jen could sympathize. She used to have trouble controlling her hulk outs before she just decided to be She-Hulk all the time.

Anyway, this big ridiculous thing (the last issue was 43 PAGES LONG) ends with Ben being thoughtful on a rock.

And that brings us back to Avengers #243.

I guess he’s not alone because Zsaji’s village is still here, maybe? Is nobody going to send them home??

Follow @essential-avengers​ because FINALLY I can get back to just focusing on the Avengers. Phew. Please like and reblog. This took so much effort.