#he is the reminder of the sun always rising even after the worst and longest nights and how hope will always persist! :33

[martyrbat]

letters to the batman!

[ID: a full body panel of Batman. He's leaning against something that's concealed by his body and has one of his knees lifted and bent while the other leg is slightly extended out. His arm is extended in front of him and he's holding the edge of his cape to cause it to be draped out like a curtain behind Batman. In his other hand, he's holding a letter and he's looking down slightly to read it. Behind him is a yellow circle that's reminiscent of a sun as orange beams of light extend from it. END ID]

[my-head-is-an-animal]

Just A Crush?

Director Keller x Reader

Chapter 4

Fury was by your side every day of recovery. You’d barely made it, dying for three minutes in the ambulance before being resuscitated. The bullet had gone straight through which was a good sign, at least there was no ricochet for the surgeons to deal with, but it was a long road to full health and one you would be taking alone.

You were in a wheelchair for the longest time, having to figure out how to move around your house with it, you ended up sleeping downstairs most of the time. Fury helped out here and there, making things easier for you to get to and giving you updates on work related things. You never dared ask how the Director was doing, but Fury gave you hints.

It seemed Director Keller felt nothing over you dying that night, he’d sent his regards with Fury, but that was it. Fury wasn’t stupid, he knew the both of you better than you thought and decided enough was enough.

‘Sir? Can I get a moment?’ Keller spun around in his office to see Fury half entering.

‘Of course.’ Keller said, putting the file he was reading down on the desk. ‘What can I do for you?’ It was amazing how commanding this man could be in a professional setting, Fury had always admired that in him.

‘I just thought you might like an update on L/N.’ Fury would have missed it every other day of the week, except he was almost looking for it, the sign that Keller cared more than he let on.

The Director shifted uncomfortably and cleared his throat, giving a half smile for Keller to continue speaking.

‘She’s out of the wheelchair now, moving a little more freely.’ Fury observed his boss with each word spoken. There was definitely something else there. ‘Still needs a little time at home, a little more physio, but she should be back to normal in a couple of months.’

‘Good to hear.’ Keller’s mouth tightened, he was usually a man in control, but this was more restraint that Fury was used to seeing. ‘Is there anything else?’

‘Yeah, just one thing.’ Fury nodded, half smiling. ‘I think she’s worried she disappointed you-‘

‘She didn’t disappoint anybody.’ Keller stopped him, frowning in confusion.

‘I know that, but you were the one there when she got shot,’ Fury reminded him. ‘She may need to hear it from you.’ Fury suddenly held his hands up. ‘It’s just an observation, sir.’

Fury watched as the wheels began to turn in Keller’s head and knew he’d done the right thing.

Keller watched Fury leave his office and thought on how you could have possibly thought you disappointed anyone. You got shot, you did your duty, if anything, he was the one who disappointed you. He made a promise that he would look after you and you still got hurt.

He made the decision in the months that you were recovering he wouldn’t disappoint you again, he would keep his distance if for nothing else to remove temptation from him and discomfort from you. He’d never felt his loneliness so heavily.

Enough was enough. Keller couldn’t let you think the worst of yourself, he also couldn’t let you come back to work in a lesser mindset. You worked best when you were confident and laughing with the other agents, he liked you best when you were happy, he couldn’t ruin that for you.

It was a few moments before you answered the door, Keller had patience, knowing your movement was hindered by your injury. You had a nice house, one he was sure you enjoyed to no end. It was spacious, well-protected with high end security systems and had the most stunning view of Los Angeles. He could imagine mornings spent with a coffee in hand watching the sun rise over that view.

‘Director Keller?’

Keller had been caught up in his thoughts that he didn’t even notice you opening the door.

‘What are you doing here?’ You asked.

Despite having been shot, despite probably not expecting visitors and despite you wearing a hoodie that covered your body in a sluggish fashion, you were still incredibly beautiful to him. As amazing as you had looked in your gown, your hair pinned up and your make up to highlight your stunning features, this version of you, the one who was cosy and comfortable, was just as gorgeous. You really were too good for him.

‘I, erm…’ It was a good start. Keller took a breath, pushing his glasses up his nose, starting again. ‘I should have come by sooner, I’m sorry that I didn’t.’

‘Don’t be silly.’ You shook your head, your hand briefly drifting over your stomach. He wanted nothing more than for you to be comfortable, he wanted to help you with your injury. ‘You have a whole agency to run, you can’t be worried about me.’

‘I know.’ He shrugged. ‘But…’ He could see how uncomfortable standing was making you. ‘Look, I wanted to have a conversation about that night, well, a little more than that night, but, that’s the focus, what’s brought me here now.’ Keller was messing it all up and you could tell, but there was no judgement. ‘I… can I come in for a while? Just talk?’

It was a while before you decided, but eventually you nodded and let him inside your home. It was just a spacious on the inside as it was on the outside. Clean, minimalist and Keller loved every inch of it, this was the kind of home he hoped you would have, one that screamed you.

Keller watched you sit down on your sofa, easing back gently, he went immediately to help.

‘It’s okay.’ You stopped him. ‘I have to get used to doing this on my own.’ You explained. Keller remained close just in case. ‘You can sit down as well.’ You half chuckled.

Keller chose to sit on the chair at the other end of the sofa, putting some distance between you both. It was quiet for a moment.

‘Fury came to me today.’ Keller began again. ‘Said you might have been feeling something of disappointment in yourself.’ You shifted uncomfortably. ‘I just want you to know that you haven’t disappointed anyone, if anything, I’m the one to blame for you getting hurt. I promised I would look after you and I couldn’t even do that.’ Keller let his gaze drop to the floor, feeling the shame start to overwhelm him again. ‘If we had left when Fury gave the word, if I hadn’t suggested we stay a little longer… indulge… you wouldn’t have gotten shot. I’m so sorry.’ Keller breathed steadily, noting that you hadn’t said anything yet. He looked up to see you frowning.

‘What do you mean “indulge”?’ You asked. ‘Indulge in what? Me?’

Keller swallowed thickly. ‘Yes.’ He breathed. ‘Y/N, I am so sorry that I made you feel so uncomfortable around me. I didn’t want my feelings to get in the way or make you think I was taking advantage of you. I kept giving you the option to back out, you had every chance to say you didn’t want to do it and you said yes, because you’re brave and you are an amazing agent, and I hated and loved that. I’m sorry that I put you in such a compromising position.’ Keller cleared his throat. ‘If you’d like to leave the agency, or transfer somewhere else, I will completely understand, I’ll even help you go anywhere you want to go. If that’s what you want. Again, I’m sorry my feelings clouded my judgement.’

You said nothing for far longer than Keller felt okay with. He couldn’t tell what you were thinking, but suddenly you sniffed like you were holding back the emotion. He knew this was a bad idea.

‘I’m confused.’ You whispered. Keller tried to think of how else he could explain himself. ‘I don’t understand. I thought you were married, that’s why you were uncomfortable around me, I thought you knew about… about my feelings.’

Keller’s heart inflated. The panic returned tenfold as he tried to dissect your sentence. You’d made a comment about a wife while at the event and Keller didn’t understand it at the time, but it was starting to make sense.

‘I don’t have a wife.’ He repeated, slowly. ‘Or a girlfriend, or… anything.’ He let a steady breath go. ‘You have feelings for me?’

Keller tried to be delicate but it was difficult, he needed to know. You sniffed again turning away a little.

‘Yeah, well, you had feelings for me first.’ You said, almost making him laugh.

‘Quite possibly.’ He nodded, observing you and everything he had thought about you in a new light, but still with no conclusion in sight.

‘Why didn’t you ever say anything?’ You asked, almost annoyed at him and he could understand that.

Keller swallowed and thought how best to say it. ‘It was a personal issue.’ He shook his head, knowing it wasn’t good enough.

‘You being in love with me kind of involves me, you know?’ Your eyebrow twitched upwards, making him smile.

‘Yes, it does.’ He agreed. ‘I guess I just… I didn’t want you to think I was that type of guy.’

‘What type of guy?’

‘The kind that sleeps around without… more.’

You cracked a bigger smile, but it fell almost immediately. ‘Well… I suppose if we’re being honest…’ you swallowed something hard. ‘I am that type of girl… all of my relationships have failed because they’ve moved too fast, and I never said anything because I didn’t want you to think the same thing.’

Keller leaned forward on his knees, smiling. ‘I don’t think that’s going to be a problem in your condition.’ At least he was able to make you laugh a little. ‘I want to ask for a little more clarity if that’s okay?’ You nodded. ‘If I were to ask you to dinner, on a date, would that… be okay?’

Keller half felt like an idiot, someone asking out his first crush, but also tentative like he didn’t want to break you in anyway.

You laughed, nodded. ‘Yeah, that’d be good.’

Keller suddenly smiled wider than he had done since that night. ‘Okay.’ He nodded, feeling giddy. ‘After your recovery then, we’ll go somewhere nice.’

‘After?’

‘You said you moved too fast in your previous relationships,’ he frowned, hoping he remembered correctly. ‘I moved too slow in most of mine, but dinner in two months doesn’t mean I can’t come round, right? I can swing by again? We could talk some more?’

Keller could tell that you were falling for this nervous side of him as well, just by the way your eyes focussed on him and your smile broadened.

‘I would love that.’

Keller loved every inch of you, now it was abundantly clear, you loved him back. Maybe he wasn’t such a fool and maybe the shame he felt about his feelings for you, we’re all for nought.

END

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Story

[boldlyvoid]

Amoreena | chapter eleven

chapter eleven

main summary: Heaven is a real place and it's located exactly 14.6 miles away from the FBI, Quantico Headquarters. Off behind a small park, under a fantastical willow tree surrounded by wildflowers, in every colour young minds can imagine.

Don't forget, heaven also comes with angels.

Chapter Warnings: Y/N POV: details of what happened to Stephen, her grandmas cancer, and very detailed explanations of how babies are made (as biologically accurate and not very graphic as possible) this is an angsty trauma filled chapter that made me cry a lot just writing it so I'm sorry in advance

word count: 3K

from the beginning <3

June 13th, 2010

There’s a knock on her parent's door at 4 in the morning, Y/N’s sound asleep on the couch back at her grandma’s, awoken by said grandmother as she hears all the noise beyond the porch. There are 2 cop cars at the main house, worry starts to settle over them.

She puts on a pair of shoes, taking her grandmother's hand in hers as they begin the early morning trek up the road, anxiety seeping in deeper and deeper as they get closer to the lights illuminating their driveway.

Her father is talking to an officer on the steps, her mother is crying behind him. “We’re so sorry for your loss,” the officer says and Y/N’s blood runs cold, numbing her from the impending despair.

“What happened?” Her grandmother asks, rubbing a hand along Y/N’s back in preparation for the worst.

“Evan was in a car accident,” her father says softly, knowing that Y/N knows Stephen was with him tonight. She breaks away from her grandma and without thinking she’s right in the officer's face.

“Which one of them died?”

“Ma’am,” it was never a good way to start the worst conversation of her life with that word or in that tone. She felt like a '40s housewife learning her husband wasn’t coming home from the war, only he wasn’t even her husband yet.

He would have been on next Saturday.

“I’m sorry, Stephen was pronounced dead on the scene,” he says the worst sentence she’s ever heard, and now she’ll never forget it. “The passenger side took the worst of it, once again, I am so sorry for your loss.”

She’s surprisingly calm, managing to whisper, “thank you,” before she’s walking off into the field, pushing everyone's hands away as she travels as far as he feet will take her.

She ends up at the willow tree by the pond as soon as the sun is rising, it happened a lot earlier in June than the rest of the year. The birds singing, the wind blowing against the leaves making them carry a tune in harmony together. The world is still spinning, life is moving on, but how?

She sat there against the tree for a while, picking blades of grass and weaving them into a chain, soothing her brain as she makes a pattern. Giving her hands something to do so they stop going numb, it’s the only thing that really reminds her that she's real, that she’s controlling the twists and tucks, the shape and length and the fact that it was created at all.

Ending the life of the single blade of grass as she picks it, never to be whole again. Snatched from its happy place, where it grew loved and surrounded by other matching green strands as they blew in the wind.

Then she's pulling fist full after fist full of grass out of the dirt, her hands covered in mud as she shouts, throwing handfuls of grass and dirt towards the pond. The once blue water starting to turn cloudy; disrupted and upset with her anger as it swallows her weapons, but it doesn’t make her feel better. All she did was disrupt the earth, changing the way this once beautiful patch of land used to look. She couldn’t help but sob, realizing that she was like this field now and her beautiful green pasture was disrupted, overturned and ruined.

The life that flowed through her died along with the love of her life.

“Stephen was pronounced dead on the scene,” the words echo in her mind in a constant circle like she’s stuck in a tin can.

It starts to reverberate, getting louder and louder as the same 7 words all run around in her head. Bouncing off the walls, smacking her down again and again as she hears them over and over and over… she’s holding her hands on her ears, shaking back and forth, sobbing when she feels someone wrap their arms around her.

She doesn’t open her eyes, instead, she's rushing to push them off of her, struggling out of their grasp as she fights them. Finally, she loses, being held in her brother's embrace as they both cry, he barely has a scratch on him when she finally looks at him.

she’s never been physical in her life, but she punched him right in the face. Her twin brother, best friend in childhood and the person she’s known the longest in her life. He held her close in the womb, crying if they separated as soon as they were born, she loved him deeply and yet she hated him something fierce at that moment.

“It wasn’t my fault,” Evan cries, “we were stopped at a red light, Y/N!”

“I don’t care! He was supposed to be my husband!” She swats at him, smacking his arms again and again as he tries to hold them back, holding her so tightly as she basically screams bloody murder in the field.

All she can see is his face, her beautiful happy Stephen. The first time she ever saw him, standing under a street light in Boston, papers in his hand and wonder in his eyes. The way he looked up at her, the glow of the light making a halo glow over his head.

She should have known he was too good to be true. Always destined to return to the heavens, he was truly angelic with his big emerald eyes that were only the tiniest bit yellow on the edge of the pupil, the way her name sounded on his tongue like a blessing coming true.

They buried him 2 days after what was supposed to be their wedding. Disrupting another beautiful patch of earth to hide him away forever, she placed a single rose on his casket, she never said goodbye and she never planned to.

“See you later, superstar,” she patted the glossy black box once last time before sending him down into the earth.

—

September 2012

This fucking willow tree and 7-word sentences…

“What do you mean you have cancer?”

Her grandma let a tear slip from her eye, “I’ve got colon cancer, honey, the doctors said I have another 2 years, maybe 5 if I'm lucky.”

Every time someone sat beside her in this one spot, she learned the worst information in the world. Sure Evan didn’t mean to kill Stephen, doesn’t mean she’s talked to him at all in the last year. with Grandpa dying only a few summers back, her favourite house cat now buried in the yard, she can’t lose her grandma now too.

“Okay,” she starts to plan in her head, her eyes about ready to jump out of her skull as she tries to think of all the things they need to do before it’s too late, “let’s go to England, let’s blow my bank account, you can’t leave me without going to England with me? We were supposed to get tea and pretend to be the queen and princess?”

She couldn’t stop the tears, her whole body heaving as she sobbed into her grandma’s dress, “you can’t leave me too!”

“Your grandfather and I have a fund for you, you were the last baby we got to raise when your mom went back to work, I want you to use it for that baby we talked about,” her grandma’s voice is barely a whisper, softly getting the words over her vocal cords as the tears joined Y/N’s on her dress.

Without another word, she took her hand and walked home, getting in her car together and heading to the closest fertility clinic, she booked her first insemination for February, pre-paying for a round of IVF hormones and everything to start in January, she had 3 months to plan.

Finding the perfect donor was the only hard part. She had 3 different books to choose from with all the clinics in the DC area sharing 1 sperm bank. She finally made her decision 3 weeks before they were set to get her pregnant when they updated the books.

Sample 2319, male 30’s, healthy, high IQ, 6’1, brown eyes, brown hair (curly). “Sounds a lot like Stephen,” her grandma agreed, saying his name for the first time in over 2 years, she knew this was her guy.

—

June 14th, 2021

Peeing on a stick shouldn’t be as terrifying as it is.

She hasn’t been this nervous since the first time Dr. Collins inseminated her. Laying back on the table at a weird elevation to make sure she got pregnant, her whole body tense as she thought of the possibilities of her future child.

Sample 2319 sitting in a cup not too far from her face as she prepared for a man she barely knew to put the semen of another man she didn’t know, inside her. She only picked this guy cause he was smart and tall, no health issues to report and the number made her think of Monsters Inc.

In her mind, she made a baby with a man she named mike wazowski, not knowing his real name was actually Spencer Reid and he was only just down the road at Quantico the whole time. It was the weirdest day ever, and then it became the second-best day of her life

Nothing could top holding her baby in her arms for the first time. Her grandma and mother beside her as they all cried, the perfect purple baby screaming on her chest as they tried to wipe the white gunk off her tiny body. her sweet little coos, seeing her swollen eyes open for the first time, the silence that overcame her as they made their first introduction to each other. Her little person, the love of her life, her wonderful Amoreena.

Her cry was perfect, like music to her ears she wanted to hear her little voice as long as she could because it meant she was alive and real. She was healthy and beautiful and the most perfect bundle of joy she could have ever made.

Now she was hiding in the bathroom to pee on a stick while her 7-year-old had breakfast in the next room. Oh, how times changed, but one thing remained the same, she was finding out alone again. Only this time she meant for that to happen, it was exactly 4 days since her period was supposed to start and it wasn’t there, neither was Spencer.

He had something to do that morning, but he’d be meeting them later that afternoon, it was Amoreena’s last day of kindergarten after all. She wanted time to either enjoy the thought of having another baby or cry in peace because for once it didn’t work, giving her a week to recover before trying again.

Amoreena was a miracle, the easiest IVF baby they ever made at the clinic, apparently. If she was pregnant this easily again it was a sure sign that he was Amoreena’s father too, only he could get her knocked up while not even trying.

She didn’t remember pregnancy tests taking this long, she flipped it over and walked out of the room, unable to think of anything else while she waited for 3 minutes to pass. Amoreena noticed she was being weird, studying her mother's movements as she paced the hall outside of the bathroom door.

“What are you doing?” She asked, curious as ever as she twirled lightly in her new princess dress.

“Can you keep a secret?”

“Always mom, I’m the best secret keeper in all the kingdom, remember?” Amoreena smiled, holding onto her leg as she stared up at her.

“Your dad and I tried to make a baby,” she whispered, petting the litter hairs on her forehead as Amoreena looked up at her, her first little baby. “I’m waiting to find out if it worked, but we can’t tell anyone in case it didn’t, okay?”

Amoreena’s eyes were wider than she’s ever seen them, her mouth opened slowly as she understood the words in her mind. She didn’t look happy or surprised, nor upset or worried. She looked confused, “how?”

She laughed then, shaking her head as she lifted Amoreena into her arms, she would have to know soon anyway. “You know how every month mummy has a bad week where she bleeds and her tummy hurts?”

“Yeah?”

“When people with our parts grow up they make little tiny eggs but we don’t lay them like chickens do, they stay inside our tummies and wait to become babies and if they don’t we have a period and release all the stuff our bodies saved up that month to make a little person. You’ll have one soon too in a few years, probably when you're 12 like I was, and when people with a penis get old enough they’re able to help us make the babies like roosters help the chickens. Our bodies are really special and make some really cool things when we try to,” she explained it in the most simple farmhouse way she could.

“Like when the goats are all born in the spring and they just show up?” She tried to clarify, understanding it at the basic level.

“Kinda, you’ve seen the photos of you in my tummy and how aunty Shannon’s stomach grew when she had your cousins, I’ll get really big like that too if I’m pregnant, the baby will grow for 9 long months till they’re nice and healthy and then we’ll have another person in the family,” she couldn’t help but smile as she thought about it.

“How do we find out?”

She opened the bathroom door then and carried Amoreena inside, setting her down on the sink and pointing at the upside-down test stick. “We create a special hormone when we’re pregnant, it’s something that can be detected in our pee!” she explained it like it was magic, watching her get excited instead of grossed out.

“So I peed on that stick and if it has 2 lines I have a baby in my tummy, if not then your dad and I have to try again.”

Amoreena picked up the test and looked at it, keeping it out of her mothers sight as she did so, “there’s two lines,” she lit up waving the stick lightly as she squealed.

Y/N wrapped her up in her arms and twirled her around, “you’re gonna be the best big sister ever!”

“How do we tell dad?” Amoreena’s soft voice whispered in her ear as she snuggled into her shoulder.

“I have an idea,” she whispered back before carrying her back into the kitchen.

Her All About Me project was sitting on the counter, ready for Y/N to drive her into school today. She set Amoreena down on the floor to watch her as she took some tape and taped the stick to the bottom corner of the project. “Pass me the marker, please?”

Amoreena ran to the counter to get it, coming back and placing it in her mom's hand before leaning in to watch what she was writing.

“I’m going to be a big sister sometime next February!” Amoreena read the words as her mother wrote them, unbelievably excited.

“Your dad can read that at the ceremony tonight!”

“I thought you said we can’t tell anyone yet?” Amoreena questioned her, like always.

“Your teacher can know, the other kids won't know what it means, it’s just important Spencer sees it, but we will wait to tell nanny and poppy, okay? Sometimes the babies don’t always stay, it’s sad so we keep it a secret until they’ve got a tiny little heartbeat in there,” she didn’t want to scare her, but she knew it was always a possibility.

“Then we try again,” Amoreena smiled, “It’ll be easier now that you don’t need Dr. Collins to help you, how did you even make me without Spencer?” She didn't use his real name often anymore, only in times when she wasn't referring to him as her father.

She sat down then, pulling Amoreena into her lap so she could hold her while she thought of the right words. “So we have eggs, but people with penises have something called sperm. When adults, and I mean adults you have to be at least 25 to have a baby it’s the rules,” she teased her slightly, ticking her arms.

“Adults have sex, babies are made when someone with a vagina and someone with a penis get together. But when you don’t have a partner with a penis to help, sometimes they’ll donate their sperm to the doctor's offices to help people like me make their perfect little families all by themselves.”

“Interesting,” is all her little mind can say, she has learned so much in one day, Y/N was surprised she was still listening and surprisingly still for once. “Is it a boy or a girl?”

“We won't know for a while,” she smiled, holding Amoreena closer to her chest. “How do you feel about all this?”

Amoreena was quiet as she thought about it, “is Spencer the guy who gave the doctors the sperm for me?”

“We think so, but we don’t know, why?”

Amoreena looked at her softly, “it wouldn’t be fair, I know he said I don’t need a father but why do they get to have him for both?”

“I think Spencer is your father, you’re just as smart and wonderful as he is, there’s no doubt in my mind that you’re his baby too. but if you want to know if he isn't, when you turn 18 the doctors will tell you who it is, it's completely up to you to find out,” she whispered, the tears starting to fall down her cheeks as Amoreena tried to wipe them away.

"I like thinking he's my father, so he is." Her mind worked in the most wonderful way. Y/N couldn’t help but hold her close as she lightly cried, “I had a dream yesterday that I had 8 sisters,” her voice was so soft and innocent as her tiny hand cupped her mother's cheek.

She gasped lightly at the words, remembering Spencer’s panic in the middle of the night last night, how scared he was to leave her all alone with 9 babies and no one to help her. They knew something that she didn’t yet, cheaper by the dozen seemed less like a dream and more like a prophecy.

“I’m so happy to make your dream come true,” Y/N whispered, “I promise I’m happy, the baby just makes me emotional.”

Amoreena placed her hand on her tummy then, “I love you, baby.”

Y/N stuck her tummy out as far as she could, “I love you too, big sister,” she said in a funny voice to make Amoreena laugh, leaning back in the chair as she held her.

And just like that, getting pregnant with Amoreena was bumped into 3rd place for the best day of her life. Sharing the moment with her and no one else was perfect, insuring she knew that she was just as important moving forward as the little person she was growing this time.

tag list: @shemarmooresfedora @spencers-dria @spookyspence @reidsfish @manuosorioh @mochionly @samuel-de-champagne-problems @jswessie187 let me know if you would like to be added as well!!

[binniesthighs]

hellooo i have read your Han fic and it's so gooooooood you really know how to portray the one and only Han Jisung omgggg. can i ask for a seventeen smut? if it's okay with you. since I'm into Jeonghan these days i really want to know how will Jeonghan react if you two arw bffs since high school then one day things changed, both of you began being so touchy and flirty then he challenges you if you can resist him omgggg like he is so cocky and confident aaaaaah BYE-

aweee thank you so much! I love love love writing for the one and only Han Jisung!! thank you so much for your patience as well anon I’m soooo sorry that this took me an age to get out, but I hope that ya like the product hehe 💕

yjh was here | reader x jeonghan |

Pairing: self insert, gender neutral reader x yoon jeonghan

Genre: fluff n’ smut

Tags: friends to lovers, bit of a comfort fic, bestfriend!jeonghan, cockyandflirty!jeonghan as we love him, lowkey mutual pining, mingyu, wonwoo, soonyoung side characters, coworkers au, mentions of food and mild food dares, mentions of alcohol+getting drunk, mentions of divorce (past), marking, reach-around teasing (r receiving), fluffy unprotected sex, body praising, spicy truth or dare, cuddles

Word count: 4.4k

Yoon Jeonghan had a habit. It wasn’t the worst of habits, but it was the kind that would clutter up your life. Often, you would wonder why he would do it, and why he hadn’t stopped: not even after you had mentioned it so many times.

It had started in high school. High school, that eternity away now. Luckily, your past was riddled with memories of him, and all of the little things that you had shared together; lunches, late nights studying, throwing littler paper wads at eachother from across the room. He would pull at the tie around your neck that was a part of the school uniform just to get a rise out of you. Jeonghan would nap during class, and you would be the one to wake him up with the flick of your finger. On cold walks to school, he would lend you his scarf, and on hot summer nights you’d stay out searching for snacks until sleep drew your eyes down, and he’d let you lean on him the whole walk home.

yjh was here

He wrote it on the first exam you had ever failed in your whole life.

Conversely, he had gotten nearly a perfect score. He was annoyingly good at everything he did. That, or he was just really good at cheating his way through things. When you thought about it, it was likely the latter that was more accurate.

At first you thought it was a joke. It was as if he was taunting you for failing miserably at mathematics II. You were never good at math anyway.

The second time he wrote it was when you had fallen asleep in class. It wasn’t a common occurrence. He’d call you a baby for being scared to fall asleep during class for fear of being startled awake by the teacher. However, this was the week that had been the longest for you: the week that everything fell apart.

Even into your mid twenties, your mother still would never tell you why your father had left that week and you never saw it fit to prod more.

He had written it on a scrap piece of paper after getting you a strawberry milk and leaving it for you on your desk.

yjh was here

Since then, he had taken the opportunity to write it everywhere he could manage. Suddenly his little scribbles filled up the margins of your notebooks; on post-it notes--he’d even etch it onto the skin on your arm in soft blue pen ink. Later, when the two of you had gone on to college, he would sneak into your dorm to write it everywhere he could find. No matter how many times you would erase it from your little whiteboard by your desk, he’d always manage to write it over, noticing immediately that it was gone.

Today, you had noticed that he had slipped it into your legal folder, among other more boring and business-y things and you had no idea how it had gotten there. It must have been sometime the day before, as he had written it on a napkin from the catering company.

yjh was here.

In all the many years that he had followed you from place to place, you must have amassed hundreds of his little notes. You kept the ones that he would give you at work tucked away in a desk, often forgetting that they were kept there until you would stumble upon them, tugging a little smile at your face. The rest of them you kept at home in a little box in your closet, even deeper away, never really knowing why. The act of simply having them was satisfaction enough, in fact, you never really minded a little clutter.

☆彡

With eyes drooping, you scratched away on your yellow note pad, writing a string of nonsense words that sounded important from the presentation. The red setting setting sun reminded you that it was your least favorite time of day: the time where the last work hour of the day would appear to stretch into twenty. Under the table your scratchy cotton work-pants felt even more scratchy than usual. Somewhere above you, the penetrating white fluorescents buzzed like flies.

With a little tap on your shoulder, Yoon Jeonghan was sitting next to you as he always was. Compared to him, you felt as if you looked like an utter mess. Just as he was annoyingly good at everything, there was never a day that he came into work looking less than perfection. Today it was a tweed two piece with a pressed shirt underneath as well as a navy tie adorning his beautifully slender neck. Around his face befell his deeply dark strands of hair which pricked the edges of his rounded wire glasses.

“This is so boring.” He had mouthed to you, adding a pout to the end of his sentence.

You formed the sound on your lips, “Shhhhh”

“I’m just saying!”

“Pay attention.”

You turned your head back to pretend to care about what your boss had to say. Every fifteen seconds or so you would nod your head to make it appear as if you were diffusing the information he was giving out.

Another tap on your shoulder and Jeonghan displayed his pen to you to draw your attention to the margin of your quarterly report print out.

you look really beautiful today, he had written

“Stop it!” You accidentally hissed, garnering the attention of your nosy and equally bored coworker sitting across from you.

This time you mouthed out the words, “No I don’t.”

“~yessss~” Jeonghan curled out his words with his tiny creeping smile

Your knee bumped into his under the ginormous desk.

“Pay attention, ‘Han.”

“Is there something you would like to add L/n?” Your supervisor’s voice cracked in the silence of the room.

“N-no sir.” your head bowed in repentance.

He elder man tsked in a little sound with his teeth. “I know that we’re getting to the end of the day folks, but let’s just get through this all so we can get home...”

Jeonghan’s tweed pants made a little screeching sound against the fabric of yours when you bumped him again under the guise of the desk.

“Screw you.”

Your friend met your remark with a wink, biting the cap of his pen while his eyes wandered down to show you another little message:

yjh was here

and I’m excited for tonight

☆彡

Wednesdays were customary somaek nights where each of you and your coworkers would gather in your cruelly tiny apartment with their own separate dishes for all to share and forget about the troubles of the midweek. As the year was winding down, it was these nights that would get you through the week. With the bodies of the five of you in your tiny living room cramped around your low-set table, you had almost forgotten that the heating in there barely worked.

With each of your coworkers entrance, they would bring in the smell of autumn with them, and the chill of the air outside. On each of their long coats, bits of leaves would cling to the edges of the fabric. Each Wednesday there would be a royal mess to clean up after, but it was Jeonghan who would often stay after to help you. The two of you would end up in your cruelly tiny kitchen, throwing soap bubbles at each other’s faces drunkenly with socks sliding all over the wooden floors. Jeonghan would write another note to stick on your refrigerator, then he would take you by the hands to twirl you around to some unbearably cheesy sounding OST.  

Perhaps it was the way that your head would get fuzzy from the soju and beer, but you loved the way that he would twirl you; it was almost like a waking dream.

“Nobody worry! Nobody! Worry!” Soonyoung burst through your door, case of beer in hand. “I’m not late, I’m actually early! Don’t you know that it’s trendy to appear an hour into the party?” When Soonyoung spoke, he had a habit of speaking with his whole chest.

“Took you long enough,” Mingyu whined, popping in another strip of galbi.

“You don’t enjoy our presence, ‘Gyu?” Wonwoo’s mouth upturned into a teasing grin.

“N-no,” The biggest man babbled, “It’s just that...Wednesdays are somaek evenings.”

“--Then I am here to help you out my friend.” Soonyoung plopped himself right down on the floor with the poof of his blond hair popping from his beanie. “Ahhhh this all looks so delicious.”

“You better pay me back.” You griped while serving him a plate of the assortment.

“Have I ever mentioned how much I love you, Y/n?”

“Nearly every time I do something for you? You still owe me from the last time we went to karaoke.

“--And for covering for your ass last week...some hangover that was, huh?” Jeonghan scooched over his leftover rice to you.

Soonyoung scoffed while twirling his bottle of soju in the air, the admiring the little tornado swirling inside. “-Was worth it though. We always have fun don’t we?” In his affection, he threw his arms around you and Wonwoo beside him.

“-Food’s gonna get cold.” Wonwoo poked his finger in the general direction.

With his full glass raised in the air after a minute of preparation, Soonyoung lead you all in a toast, cheeks already rosy. The second that your glasses collided, liquid came downpouring to the table, but none of you seemed to mind. Before you could bring your drink to your lips, you caught yourself having a moments pause, watching all of your friends before you. If you could have, you wished you could fold up little moments like these as well to put in your drawer to see when you would feel down.

Jeonghan caught your wistful sigh, sending you a wink. In many ways, you knew he must have known your thoughts.

Under the table, his hand brushed up to your crossed knee, letting his hand linger. He let his hand rest there for a moment, as if he was soaking up your essence in the moment. He had never done it before, but his thumb gently rubbed at your knee, and it felt like a waking dream.

☆彡

The night had ticked on, and you and grown more tired than you had expected by pass of the clock hand. As the night would normally progress, drinks would be had, then each of you would take turns updating the others on what you had been doing or working on. All of you would gather advice or support if needed. There had even been times when you would even provide a shoulder for one to cry on, although that didn’t happen most times.

Others, like today, the five of you would simply sit and enjoy each other’s presence with the window slightly cracked open to let the autumnal air cool your burning bodies. Jokes would be cracked every once and a while until yawns would escape your mouths. By then, another joke would be made about how you were all getting to old to be staying up that late.

Jeonghan played with your hair as you had leaned into him, swirling your final glass of soju in your wrist. While you were hot yourself, the heat from his body was still calming, and the way that his chest would rise and fall was a bit like a lullaby.

“I’m falling asleep, we should head out,” Mingyu clapped Wonwoo by the back.

“Another one for the books.” Soonyoung sighed, then rose up with a stretch of his arms, wrinkling up his white button up and loose tie.

“Sweet dreams everyone.” You shift off of your best friend, shuddering a little at the lack of contact, to close the door after them.

“I’m looking forward to next Wednesday!” Soonyoung beams with a little salute, then bows before shuffling away.

“What time is it?” You yawn out the words, rubbing your eyes.

“Too late. We still need to go in tomorrow, remember?”

Dirty dishes clink in your hands as you bring them to your sink. “We really should start doing this on Fridays.”

“I don’t wanna start cleaning just yet, can we stay here for a while?” Jeonghan spreads his arms out, beckoning you to fall back into him. You laugh a little at the motion.

“Why so touchy? We haven’t done this in so many years...I can’t remember the last time...”

You oblige him, nuzzling right up to his chest once more. He smells a bit of the somaek, but mostly of his usual scent: that cheap cologne that you had bought him about a year ago. You had mostly gotten it as a gag gift, but he had worn it every day since.

“Must have been in high school.” His words are long and breathy.

“How come we stopped?”

Jeonghan takes a minute to answer you, and you wonder if he’s fallen asleep. Instead, he raises a hand to rub at your arm lightly, just as he had done with your knee.

“Dunno. We got older?”

“What does getting older have to do with it?”

You watch in the silence as his thumb continues to rub over the fabric of your long-sleeved button down.

“--Do you want to play a game?” Jeonghan says at last.

“A game? What do you mean?”

“For fun. I’m trying to find something to do so we don’t have to do the dishes.”

“Okay,” You perk up slightly, still not removing yourself from his encircled arms. “What kind of game?”

“Truth or dare?”

“Psh what are we, back in high school?”

“Seeing what we are doing right now, wouldn’t you say so?” The words escape Jeonghan’s mouth with a growing grin.

You ruffled to top of his head, messing up his perfectly primped hair. “...Fineeee. You going first or me?”

“I’ll go. Truth.” Jeonghan pulled you back into him, settling your back flush with his chest.

“Okay, truth: did you really mean it when you said that you liked Minji’s power suit? I know you thought it looked tacky.”

Jeonghan’s breathy laugh miffed up your hair. “I’ll say anything if it keeps me in the supervisor’s good graces.”

“HA. I knew it.”

“Which do you pick?”

“Mmmm-truth.”

“Not dare? You’re no fun.”

“I said truth!!!”

“Fine, fine.” His slender arms squeezed at your body to situate you better in between his legs. “When was the last time that you brought someone over to your place?”

“Yo-you mean like “brought someone” over?”

“You know what I mean.” In his voice you could nearly see his mischievous smile.

“I’ve told you about all of them so I don’t know why you’re asking. It’s been about a year.”

“A year? Really?”

“--Nope! You don’t get to ask any more questions. Truth or dare?”

“Dare.” Jeonghan said without a moment’s hesitation.

Your eyes wandered the room for his perfect punishment. “Ah! Take that soy sauce, the one with the wasabi bits in it...and drink it.”

Your friend sighed, but took the tiny cup in his fingers to down it all in one shot. He shivered a little and you could feel his face scrunch up, but he held his reactions back best he could.

“That was such a high school dare. You really haven’t changed.”

“I thought it was funny.”

“Truth or dare Y/n.”

“Truth.”

“Ughhh truth again?”

“ ‘Hannnn--”

“Just say dare! I promise that I’ll go easy on you.”

“Fine then. Dare.”

“I dare you...to take your shirt off.”

“What?!” Your head snapped back to send him your deathly glare. “Are you being serious right now?”

“What? It’s nothing that I haven’t seen? Are you forgetting that we’ve been friends for nearly our whole lives? That and college you were someone who would go to parties and take your shirt off. Remember that?”

“...yes.” You felt heat rise in your cheeks. “Fine then.” In one motion, you pulled your shirt over your head, jumping a little once you felt Jeonghan’s hands help tear it off your arms. You hesitated to lay back, but his arms made a decision before you could, and pulled you back into his chest. Now, it was the skin of his fingers on your bare arms that you were painfully aware of.

“T-truth or dare?” You squeaked out.

“Truth.”

“No fair, you made me do dare!”

“I already did a dare. Truth.”

From the other side of your room, your refrigerator clacked with the sound of ice cubes falling into their tray. On the door, dozens of multi-colored post-it-notes had been suck there with clear tape.

“...Why is it that you’re always writing me those notes? “yjh was here?”“

“Hmm.” He breathed out. “I had a feeling that you might ask me that one.”

“...And?”

“--Because I like to. And...”

Your anticipation hung tangibly in the air. You didn’t quite know it, but you had been waiting for his answer for so many years, you had lost count.

“...And I like seeing them around you. -Reminds me that I’m a part of your life. Kind of like how we exist together. They’re little reminders for you as well...to know that I’m around for you.”

“Jeonghan...” You wouldn’t have expected it, but tears singed the corners of your eyes.

“Truth or dare?” He cooed into your ear.

“D-dare.” Your voice shook, realizations flooding you like rain.

“I dare you to take off your pants. Can you do that?” His voice had dropped, low and gravely.

You nodded your answer, and took to unbuttoning your pants, shimmying them off where you sat on the floor. As soon as your bare legs were exposed, he had found a new place to rest his hands; you never would have guessed for them to be so beautiful-looking there.

“I choose dare.” He breathed onto your bare neck.

“I-I dare you take off our shirt too.” Your face felt furiously warm as you uttered the words and he did exactly as he was told. The sensation of your skin on his skin then sent your head spinning with just how close you had been in that moment, closer than ever before.

Jeonghan’s hands explored your bare legs with a touch as soft as butterfly wings. His light touches sent an aching pain to your sex as it had never felt so needy and neglected.

“Truth or dare my love?”

In an attempt to hide your frustration, you could only form the word, “T-truth?”

“Hmm...truth...” Jeonghan began to kneed into your legs, digging his nails in every so slightly. “Have you ever kept secrets from me?”

“Secrets? Why-why would I, I don’t-mmph-have any secrets to keep from you.”

“I think that’s a lie Y/n.”

Indeed it was a lie. You had kept secrets from him. Two secrets to be exact; one of them being near the precipice for the whole universe to see.

“I’ve kept secrets from you, you know.”

“What?”

“Do you dare me to show you?”

Your anxious breath caught in your lungs, full of confusion but even more excitement. Jeonghan’s hands crept slowly up to your hips.

He repeated, “Do you?”

“Ye-yes. I dare you to show me.” Your eyes had closed feeling his hands draw even farther up your body.

Your best friend surveyed your whole chest with his hands, swirling around as much skin as he could touch. He was careful not to tickle you, but rather give every ounce of your being his careful attention. For a moment, his fingers grazed over your nipples, but went to cradle your neck in his hands. He turned it to the side to expose the beating vein there, and placed the slowest and most tender kiss upon it. From the feeling of his fleeting lips, you whimpered at the sensation.

“Dare.” You managed with a dry mouth. “I dare you to touch me...anywhere you want...please...”

Jeonghan chuckled slightly into your neck. “I just had my turn, but...I’m listening.”

Your entire body keened under his fingertips, writhing messily between his legs. This time, he was careful in touching you nearly everywhere: your chest, your nipples--pinching them slightly--and down your legs, to your inner thighs where he traced up to your underwear, now wetting a little with your arousal.

“Tell me the truth.” He bit into your skin. “Am I one of your secrets?”

Your answer was given to him in the form of you forcefully tearing from his grip to push his legs together so that you could straddle them. The way that his shoulder blades flexed under your firm grip was dizzying. Your eyes fell to his lips: your secret.

“I dare you to kiss me,” You breathed onto them.

“I thought that you’d never ask.”

Jeonghan was smiling as he pulled your lips into his, and he never quite seemed to stop. Every bit of your love for him spilled into his mouth where you found the comfort from him that you had craved for years. You had felt first kisses before, but nothing was quite like this one. With Jeonghan who you had known for so long, you were thrilled to get to know him in this new and different way, and you wanted to absorb every little bit of it: the way he would caress the sides of your face so gently, or the way that he would angle your neck to meet his lips. You would never have guessed to feel so complete with him like this, but it also made all the sense in the world. It was you that he wanted, and you that he wanted to stay next to through all those years. He had never let you go, and you had never let him either.

In between kisses, you found both of yourselves giggling hysterically.

“Are we really doing this right now? Are we...?” You bit a laugh into his lip.

“Yes. I think that we are.” He engulfed you in his grasp. “I’ve wanted to do this for years, Y/n.

Jeonghan scooped you up, moving both of your bodies to the couch where he clinked with his belt buckle to remove his pants. “You really do look beautiful. Everyday. I’m not just saying that.”

You practically clawed at him to lay his body on top of yours, then wrapped your legs around his waist to align him with your own. In your unadulterated intoxication of him, you hopelessly grinded up into him, seeking some kind of stimulation from the mashing of fabric together. After a little scoff, Jeonghan’s hand cascaded down your body to rub at your throbbing sex, marveling in the way that you had soaked though your underwear just a little.

“Wow. This is how you feel about me?”

“Do you want me to say sorry?”

“No--it’s just...I wish that I had known sooner.”

Your lust brought his lips back to yours as you kissed him over and over and over, trying to make up for all of the times that you wished you had done before. His touch on your sensitive skin sent you mewling onto his tongue.

“Can I make you mine now?”

As for your response, your widened legs told him exactly what he needed to know.

In one swift motion, he had tugged off his own briefs, letting free his deliciously hard cock, sparkling at the head with his pre-cum. Looking at him like this, all for you, was like a walking dream.

Jeonghan gathered spit from his tongue to glide over his dick, then teased your impatient entrance while he watched your face contort into the most beautiful shapes he thought he had ever seen. He entered you slowly, letting each of you take in the moment as if you could forget it the next. Once you were together, his brows twitched a little as his closed eyes focused only on you. He filled you up perfectly, as if you were made for him--which you had convinced yourself that you were. Jeonghan buried his face in your neck to suck into the skin, marking you as his.  

Your orgasm built much quicker than you had intended, and soon you were begging him to make you cum--which he gladly did. Your heels dug into his back upon your release which gathered more heat between your two bodies. Jeonghan didn’t skip a beat as he chased his own orgasm, fucking you into your own overstimulation and leaving you to melt under him.

“Jeong-han.” You gasped out his name through your teeth as your body quaked from the snap of his hips.

“oh god,” He uttered, tangling his fingers deep into your hair, then smashing his lips back into yours. “you’re so good for me my love...so good...”

Jeonghan let out little grunts as he came and filled you deeply with the warmth from his cum. As he throbbed within you, you knew it really was him you were made for. He lingered inside your walls as your bodies shook together with the aroma of sex fogging the air. After a while, it didn’t take long for both of you to be laughing contentedly into each other’s mouths once more.

Your best friend reached for your hand to bind all of your fingers to his. "No more secrets.”

☆彡

“Do you want the sweatpants from the top shelf or the rack?” Jeonghan called to you through your cruelly tiny apartment. “Wait...i-is this...?”

Once he had returned, in his hand he held the aged strawberry milk carton with the little cartoon fruit on the side and the scrap piece of paper wrapped around it. In the other was your little box of notes.

yjh was here

“I can’t believe that you’ve kept it this long. Why--”

“--I’ll tell you why...it’s my second secret.”

Your best friend cocked his head. “...Second?”

“Ever since that day, I’ve known, Yoon Jeonghan. I love you.”

☆彡

if you’ve got to this point, hehe hello I’m Ro, I write for skz and svt, and I’d love to write some more svt! If you’d like, you can send me your asks

[ragingpancake]

I Will Try (To Fix You) - Part 2

It’s ten days before Carson deems Rodney “well enough” to return to his quarters. To date, this has been the longest infirmary stay that Rodney’s ever had and truthfully, he should probably stay a bit longer. His kidneys still aren’t functioning as well as they should, which means Carson’s been closely monitoring his water intake and urine output and a whole host of other things that John knows Rodney is embarrassed about. He’s also not entirely steady on his feet, courtesy of the muscle spams that wrack his calves and his thighs, bad enough sometimes to nearly bring him to tears. It’s ten days before John, Carson and Elizabeth have a very real, very difficult conversation about what a prolonged stay in the infirmary will likely do Rodney mentally, left with nothing really to occupy his time except, well, time to think about just how close he’d come to death. Carson is reluctant to release him; they haven’t yet gotten him back to solid foods and of course his kidney function is still a concern, but John knows Rodney, knows that he needs to be anywhere but here and he argues his case: Rodney can come stay in his quarters. His team is grounded for the foreseeable future, courtesy of John who is unwilling to go off-world without his entire team and while he’s offered to temporarily reassign Teyla and Ronon to Lorne, they share his line of thinking. Rodney can come stay with John, but he has his whole team who’ll be watching out for him, who will bring him for twice daily check ins, if needed, who will monitor any time spent in the lab, who just want Rodney to have some semblance of normalcy during his recovery. It must be an impassioned speech, because by the time he’s done, Elizabeth nods her consent and John finds for the first time in ten days, it’s a little easier to breath.

--- Rodney, predictably, complains about the arrangement. He’s not keen on having a babysitter and that hurts John’s stunted feelings more than he’d ever admit out loud. But when Carson makes it clear that the only option is an extended stay in the infirmary, he relents pretty easily and all that’s left is to prepare John’s quarters. Easy peasy. Right? Wrong. It turns out that the room John’s claimed for himself isn’t quite meant for two people. It’s small and while it’s fine for just him, he knows that it’s going to be too cramped, too claustrophobic and so he spends the eleventh day scouting out some of the larger quarters near the East Pier with Teyla, pretending to understand when she makes suggestions based on where the light from the rising sun falls and which room has the best view of the ocean, which she believes will aid in Rodney’s recovery. He’s never been much into new age bullshit that seems to be pretty common across two galaxies, but he’s willing to shove a couple of crystals up his own ass if it means getting Rodney better.

He enlists Ronon, Lorne and a couple of marines to help move their things. John leaves his own quarters to Wallace, Gregory and Barnes despite how uncomfortable the thought of them seeing his own personal effects makes him, and he takes Rodney’s room with Ronon and Lorne. Rodney, for his part, has a lot of stuff. It takes the better part of the afternoon to get everything moved over, including Rodney’s deceptively heavy prescription mattress, his four laptops and the whiteboard that he’d swiped from the labs within the first week of their arrival. John’s stuff, save for his own bed, mostly fits in a couple bags. By the time they’re finished, he’s tired, shoulders and back aching, reminding him just how fucking old he’s getting, but still, he trudges down to the infirmary, plastering a smile on his face for Rodney as he steps in through the paneled doors. “Hey buddy,” he greets. “Got us all set up in some new digs. Wait until you see the tub in this one,” he says, nodding as Carson comes over, Rodney’s chart in hand. “He all good to go, Doc?” “I suppose he’ll have to be, now won’t he?” He asks and there’s a scowl there that John cheerfully ignores. “I expect him back here at 10 and 2, Colonel. A minute late for either appointment and he’s back here, d’you understand?” “10 and 2, just like a steering wheel. Got it, doc. How about the food situation?” “Yeah, what he said,” Rodney frowns and John knows from previous experience just how miserable a clear liquid diet can be. “I’m alright with him startin’ on solids, but take it easy,” Carson warns. “Nothin’ too heavy,” and Rodney waves him off, but despite his lackadaisical nature, John really is taking this seriously, committing everything to memory. “Got it. We good?” Carson pauses for a moment before he sighs. “Aye. But not a moment late, Colonel!” He warns as Marie and Simpson come, pushing a wheelchair that Rodney tries to vehemently refuse. John settles a hand on his shoulder gently. “Hey, hey. C’mon. Easy. It’s a pretty long walk to the pier, alright? Let’s not push it too much on your first day.” “Traitor,” Rodney mutters under his breath and John actually does smile because it feels a little like it used to before those God damned Carneans. John steadies the wheelchair while Marie and Simpson maneuver Rodney into it and after what feels like forever, they’re finally on their way. “You did get my laptops, right?” “Yes, Rodney.” “And what about the Athosian soaps from the bathroom? Those were made specially for me by Gita and, and, and the medicinal properties-- “We got ‘em.” “My mattress?” “Of course.” Rodney harrumphs like maybe he’s expecting John to have forgotten something, as if John would ever. “What about—” “Your favorite red pen that you use to mark up all those damn physics journals? Yep. Got that too. We grabbed everything, buddy. And if there’s somethin’ you need that we don’t have, just say the word and we’ll make it happen.” Rodney falls strangely quiet at that. --- It’s easy to live with Rodney. Lorne had very nearly pissed himself from laughter when John said so after the first few days and honestly, John took a little offense to that on Rodney’s behalf. Sure, he’s messy and he’s loud and the longer he’s out, the more of his biting sarcasm is returning, but John’s all for it, especially when he considers the alternative. (And he does consider it, frequently, usually in the dead of night when he wakes up from nightmares of vomit and grey skin, of an antidote recovered too late). But honestly, save for the fact that John now has to deal with Rodney’s dirty clothes strewn across the room and the stupid whiteboard that takes up the space that John’s surf board should be occupying, not much has changed at all, a testament to just how much time the two of them had spent together even before this. John follows Carson’s instructions to a T, and okay, maybe that’s a little different too because John’s always been the one to avoid the infirmary at all costs when it comes to his own health and

well-being, but he’s not taking a chance with Rodney’s. He takes him to his appointments and at nights, when the muscle spasms seem to be the worst, John sits with him on that stupidly comfortable bed, kneading the tight muscles in his legs as he tries to distract Rodney with shitty 80s movies and random banter about anything and everything that he thinks will goad Rodney into a tirade that’ll take his mind off of the pain. He even lets Rodney have four hours a day in the labs, split into two hour segments with an hour break in between. Normalcy. That’s the goal here and Rodney’s always at his best when he’s in his element, berating scientists and defying all laws of physics. That’s where Rodney is when everything goes to hell. --- It’s been twenty days since the Carneans. Ten days of the two of them cohabitating, ten days of Rodney slowly working his way back to normal. He’s been subsisting entirely of power bars and MREs, which, while not entirely healthy has been cleared by Carson if only for the fact that they provide sustenance without being too taxing on Rodney’s still delicate system and John’s just thinking about whether or not he can try to convince Rodney to try something a little more substantial from the mess later that evening when the call comes in over the radio. “Zelenka to Colonel Sheppard, please respond.” He sounds harried and John closes the latest mission report from Lorne’s team, already on his feet and moving when he taps his comm. “Sheppard here, go ahead Doc.” “I need you in Science Lab 3 please. There is a… situation.” “What do you mean by situation, Radek?” But when Radek keys up his comm again, John can hear the panicked wheezing in the background and he picks it up to a swift jog. “I believe Rodney is having a panic attack,” he says. “I have tried to bring him around but nothing is working and I--.” “I’m on my way. Sheppard out.” He meets Ronon in the corridor and he doesn’t even have to say a word before the Satedan is altering his own course, following after John. They can hear it before they even open the door. Rodney’s on the verge of hyperventilating, the sound of his ragged breaths interspersed with pained moans and Ronon is quick to clear the lab of well meaning scientists who are gaping at the scene while Radek tries to shield Rodney from view as much as possible. “Hey, hey,” John says soothingly, trying to keep his voice calm despite the way his heart is beating against his ribcage. “I’m here, buddy. Rodney, look at me. Hey, hey,” and he reaches out, finger under Rodney’s chin as he tips his head up, wild blue eyes meeting hazel. John wants to take Rodney’s hand, but his arms are wrapped around his middle, clutching his stomach so tightly and John glances over at the toppled plate on the floor, shards of glass now mixed with what looks like not-meatloaf. “Talk to me, Doc,” John calls over his shoulder at Zelenka. “What the hell happened?” “He was out of power bars, but hungry, so Miko thought perhaps he might be enticed to eat by something from the mess, knowing that this,” he gestures, “was Rodney’s favorite. He managed a couple of bites and everything was fine until… until it was not.” “Cramps,” Rodney rasps, reaching out to grip John’s wrist painfully. “Cramps. Poison, I—I can’t--.” “Get Carson down here,” John snarls, voice softening as he turns back to Rodney. “Hey. Listen to me, buddy. Carson told us this could happen, remember? The cramps. That’s why we started light. You’re okay though. I promise, Rodney. You’re okay, I’m right here and I need you to breathe.” It takes a bit of manhandling but John manages to get Rodney up enough that he can slide behind the other, drawing Rodney back against his chest, taking a couple of deep breaths. “C’mon, buddy. Breathe with me. You’re alright. I’ve got you. I’ve got you, Rodney.” That’s how Carson finds them a few moments later, Rodney trembling against the other, but thankfully no longer hyperventilating. “He’s alright,” John says, glancing up at Beckett. “Panic attack when

he tried to eat and cramped up.” “I thought—I thought--.” John pets through Rodney’s hair gently. “I know. You thought it happened again, but it didn’t, right? We’re gonna go down to the infirmary with Carson though and let him check you over so you can see for yourself.” “Easy, lad,” Carson says as Ronon comes over to help Rodney to his feet with more care than he’s shown anyone else, guiding him over to the gurney before he tugs John to his feet as well. “John—” Rodney rasps, the name catching his throat as the cramps hit again and he curls on his side, swallowing hard against the panic beginning to rise again. “I’m here,” John reminds him again, moving to take Rodney’s hand. “You’re alright, I promise.” And he is. He will be. John will be sure of that. --- The panic attacks don’t last long. He still cramps painfully when he eats, but the team is always with him at meal time to help him through it, John always, alwayseating a third of his food before switching his tray with Rodney’s for him to finish it, confident that there’s no poison. The effects of what had been done to him still linger, still present often and painfully, and sometimes, John doesn’t think what he’s doing is enough. That he should be doing more, that he should’ve done more back on that fucking planet to have saved Rodney from this entire ordeal. But Rodney’s getting better. John can see that when he goes longer and longer without a muscle spasm, or the first time he pees on his own and calls John in to see how clear it is, proof that his kidneys are finally starting to function normally. “You know,” Rodney says one night after they’ve pushed their beds close enough together that if they each scoot over to the edge, their shoulders are touching, “it probably won’t be too much longer until we can go back to our own quarters.” There’s an uncomfortable knot that twists itself up in John’s stomach at that but he swallows against the lump in his throat and says casually, “oh yeah? That’ll be cool. I guess.” “Yeah,” Rodney says and then he falls silent for a moment, as if waiting for something. Apparently, his impatience has returned full force because he doesn’t even give it a half a second before he’s speaking again. “I mean, unless we just… don’t?” Okay. That’s unexpected. “I just… this has been incredibly difficult, Colonel. Uh, John,” he corrects, “and you’ve… I know that this is probably because of some weird, misplaced guilt you’re harboring, because that’s how you are, Lieutenant Colonel Martyr, but… this has been okay… hasn’t it?” “Rodney, I--.” “I know I’m difficult. I’m messy and I’ll be going back to keeping weird hours soon enough and, and, and I know I can be annoying, but you’ve put up with that remarkably well and so I just thought--.” “I don’t want to go back to being alone,” John blurts out and he can feel the tension leaving Rodney’s body beside him. “Good. Me neither.” They fall into a comfortable silence then for a moment, the only sounds being their quiet breathing and the sound of the ocean waves through the open window. (Teyla was definitely right about picking this room.) “It’s not guilt,” John says after a moment. “I mean, not that I don’t feel guilty, because I should’ve never--.” He clears his throat and stops himself before he goes down that road. “You’re… I dunno. You’re McKay. Rodney. And I… when I found you that day, I thought you were dead,” and he can feel Rodney flinch at that, but he needs to get this out, he thinks. “I thought you’d died and I just… realized that I would’ve gone out of my fucking mind if you had, Rodney. Like, legitimately crazy because you’re… You’re you and I’m--. I’m yours. However you want me. If that means we forget this conversation ever happened and go back to how it was before all of this, I’m okay with that, but I just… I had to tell you because I came really fucking close to never getting another chance to.” Rodney is quiet, doesn’t say anything but after a moment, John can feel the other’s hand brush against his own before he

squeezes two of John’s fingers. “I think that’s the most I’ve ever heard you say at one time in all the time we’ve known each other.” And John laugh out loud at that, an actual laugh, and as he does, he feels that knot inside of him loosen just a bit. “Which is to say,” Rodney continues, “that I… would very much like to notforget this happened. I… suppose that I’m yours too. Maybe I always have been.” John doesn’t know where they’ll go from here. He’s under no delusions that this will be easy, any of it, but when has it ever been? All that matters though is that they have time now to work through it, to figure it out together. Maybe they’ll fix each other.

[ichorai]

cellmates ; one ; j.wy

pairing ; jung wooyoung x reader

summary ; stuck in jail after stealing a necklace off the princess, what happens when your new cellmate with an impossible escape plan comes along?

words ; 3.1k

warnings / includes ; medieval au, blood and grime and death and everything in between rip, wooyoung being handsome despite being in a filthy cell djkdfj, wooyoung being a smartass, reader being petrified half the time lol, future suggestive / mature content, cellmates to (future) lovers !!

a/n ; i’ve been meaning to write a medieval au for the longest time bcs im an absolute sucker for them and i finally got around to writing part one !!! pls be patient for part two !! i hope yall enjoy :3 

cellmates masterlist.

The jail cell was cold. You shivered violently, breath misting in front of you as you blew out a tired sigh. They had stripped you of all your clothes except a thin beige tank top (that had actually once been white), and ripped tights. Dried blood matted your hair to your forehead, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care at the moment. It was too damn cold.

You found yourself wishing that you hadn’t stolen that necklace off of the innocent little princess. The silver glinting against her pale collarbones were just too enticing, the angry grumble of your stomach far too loud. That much silver would’ve cost a fortune; you wouldn’t have had to worry about food for years. Unfortunately, the guard caught you before you had time to make your escape, by effectively knocking a heavy baton over your head. 

And the result of your desperate endeavor? A small, icy jail cell in the farthest and darkest corner of the dungeons. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d seen the sun.

A life sentence for attempting to ‘harm’ the princess. Oh please, all you really wanted was to go to bed without your belly twisting painfully in hunger. At least they weren’t barbaric enough to hang you for that.

The thought had tremors running up your spine. Or perhaps it was the cold.

A dim amber light appeared from the corner of your eyes, echoing footsteps gradually getting louder with each thump. Was it dinner time already? You hadn’t even eaten yesterday’s yet.

The same guard you’d seen just about a thousand times by now appeared in front of the frigid metal bars, melting candle in hand. Grizzly beard blanketing his chin and jaw, faint scar mark running over his left cheekbone, and slanted eyes the color of the princess’ silver necklace. A daily reminder of your worst mistake, it would seem. 

He muttered something unintelligible before shoving a tray through the narrow slot, wintry water sloshing about in the small wooden cup with the same chunk of stale bread on the side that always tasted like metal.

How delicious. The cold had numbed you to the point where hunger was the least of your problems. 

You remembered when you had first gotten here, croaking out a wispy ‘thank you’ to the guard whenever he had given you your food, hoping that he’d take sympathy and give you a bit more, or maybe even get you a blanket. You were foolish back then, you thought solemnly, curling up tighter and burying your face in between your knees. 

Perhaps one of the worst things possible about being in jail was that you had absolutely nothing to do. Sometimes you would try to exercise to keep your blood running through your body and make sure your muscles hadn’t frozen over, but exhaustion constantly hung above you like a stormy cloud. More oftenly, you would make up fantastical stories including dragons and elves and faeries. But after hundreds (or maybe it was just around twenty, but who was counting?) of different stories, your creativity would run short and you would find yourself pausing mid-story, trailing off into a disappointing end of ‘and they lived till they died’.

Turns out you weren’t going to be bored alone, at least. 

You had been in a fitful slumber when you heard the footsteps approach. That was strange, usually there’d only be the one guard to deliver your measly dinner.

Curious eyes grew wide when you took sight of two guards holding up an unconscious man, the toes of his worn leather boots dragging against the damp stones of the dungeon ground. 

What you wouldn’t give for a nice pair of leather boots. Your toes twitched in your worn socks at the thought.

They began stripping him of his clothes, much like they had done to you in the beginning, grunts of exertion leaving them in misty huffs. They left shortly after, grumbling about being ‘fuckin’ cold’. As if they had any right to complain.

In the dim light of the candles, you could barely make out what the new prisoner looked like. He was slumped up against one of the icy stone walls, dark hair tied into a short ponytail. A low groan escaped the man, foot twitching as he slowly aroused from unconsciousness. 

“Fuck,” His voice came out hoarse and raspy. He pushed against the floor to prop himself up at a better angle. More curses left his lips in a rapid flurry. You watched in timid fascination as he raised a pale hand to dab against his forehead, hissing when he pulled away with crimson staining his skin.

Looking upwards, he finally caught your curious gaze. 

The two of you stared at one another for a second before he huffed, reaching up to his head once more. This time, his fingers didn’t only pull away with blood, but with a thin hair pin that glinted against the candle’s small flame.

You hadn’t noticed that your mouth was hanging slightly open when he struggled to his feet, limbs shaking with effort and cold.

And he started picking the lock, stopping every minute or so to blow his breath onto his quickly numbing fingers.

After less than ten minutes, the frozen bars swung open with a rusty creak. 

At that point, you yourself had gotten up, eyes widening. You shuffled closer to your own locked bars. It was as if the man had forgotten you were there, flinching when he turned and saw you pressed up against your cell.

“Don’t leave me here,” You whispered, starting to feel the familiar feeling of desperation clawing at your throat.

For a second, he looked conflicted. A hard, determined film passed over his eyes and he tore his gaze away.

“Sorry,” Was all he said. 

And he left, just as quickly as he had come.

Strings of foul curses left his mouth once he was dragged back. And this time, he was far bloodier than before. He barely looked like the same person.

You had to hold in a breath as they threw his limp body back into the cell, one of them spitting at his feet. Grimacing, you looked away and scowled.

Perhaps if he had let you out as well, the both of you would’ve been able to escape.

Ten minutes after the guards had left, the man across from you reached behind his back to pull something out. He didn’t have another hair pin, did he? Would he let you out this time?

Probably not, you thought bitterly.

The object he pulled out was small and round, a shiny red ball that seemed to glisten beneath the candlelight.

It made a resonating thud against the stone of the cell, echoing down the halls. 

And he did it again. And again. And three, four, ten times more.

“Please stop,” You found yourself saying, a headache brewing behind your temple. But your voice was too soft, drowned out by the incessant bouncing of his rubber ball.

Downing what was left in the damp wooden, you mustered the courage to croakily shriek, “Stop! Please, stop!” 

Startled by your sudden noise, he hadn’t been able to catch the ball’s last bounce, and crimson streaked past as it hit the wall behind him, ricocheting past the jail bars and out into the hallway. You watched silently as it rolled away, until it was far out of your sight.

“Bitch,” You heard him mutter under his breath.

You felt the hairs on the back of your neck rise as you sneered at him, “You’re a fool, you know. Thinking you could escape a place like this.”

“Oh, yeah?” His eyebrows raised while he shuffled closer, pressing his pale face against the cold bars. Now that he was out of the shadows, you managed to get a proper look of his face. He was all bone and skin, dark hair grown a little too long, hazel eyes glinting along with the dim flames. “At least I managed to get out of my cell. That’s probably more than you’ve ever done.”

If he was trying to pick a fight with you, it wouldn’t work.

“What’s the point, anyways? There’s only so much out there for people like us.”

“People like us… ?”

Your eyes darted to him, and you immediately averted your gaze. It’d been a long time since anyone had properly looked at you. Perhaps under all the blood and grime, he’d actually be quite handsome.

“Commoners, peasants. We grow up stupid, work until our fingers bleed, and then die from a disease because we don’t have the money for a healer.”

A low rumble that could pass as a laugh worked its way out of him, “You’re telling me you would rather stay locked up in here than back outside? You don’t want to feel the sun on your face, the taste of sweet fruits, the warmth of another human being?”

“Of course I do,” You retorted. “I’m just saying that it’s pointless.”

The man’s eyes narrowed, “How long have you been here?”

“Too long to keep track.”

At this point, you couldn’t really tell whether it was refreshing to talk to someone after so long, or just plain annoying. He stayed silent for a moment, before speaking up once more. 

“What got you here?”

You huffed. There was no harm in telling him, right?

“I ripped a priceless necklace off of the princess because I was hungry.”

It was as if his volume tripled when he yelped, “You’re Y/N L/N?!”

How he had that much energy after getting beaten up twice, was still a mystery to you.

“The one and only.” You wrapped your arms tighter around yourself. It seemed that you were quite famous in the outside world. 

“That’s amazing,” He breathed out, eyes wide as he leaned further into the bars. “My name’s Wooyoung. I’m your new cellmate.”

Your eyes flickered to his once more. If you were going to be stuck here with him, might as well get to know him a little better.

“I’m not your cellmate,” You deadpanned, despite Wooyoung’s disappointed pout. “You’d need to be in the same cell as me to be my cellmate.”

One of his shoulders lifted in a half-shrug.

“So why are you here?” Part of you was afraid of what he was going to say. He didn’t really seem to strike you as someone who’d do anything seriously terrible… right?

“I… I just threw one or two punches at the crown prince, is all. And maybe a kick to the groin. And gave him a couple broken ribs.” He laughed a little at that last part, as if the memory amused him. 

“You what?”

Scoffing, Wooyoung flicked his hair out of his eyes, “I think you heard me perfectly clear, sweetheart.”

A strange feeling blossomed in your stomach. You shuffled a bit closer to your own bars, until the light hit your face. 

“Was it worth it?”

Wooyoung paused at the unexpected question.

“Yeah, I would do it again. A million times over.” It was the first time he looked away, a distant glaze over his eyes. “He was touching a servant girl and she was begging him to stop. But he didn’t. So I intervened.”

A palpable silence laid over the two of you, thick and heavy.

“Good,” Was all you said. “I’m going to sleep.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s morning.”

You ignored him. Time didn’t matter anymore, not to you. Soon enough, he’d stop caring as well.

Hours and days melted into weeks and months, along with the frost on the bars and the icicles hanging off the ceilings.

At least it wasn’t cold anymore. Everything was wet. 

“Okay… would you rather live knowing how you die or live forever?” Wooyoung asked in queer tone, laying down on the ground with his bare back pressed against the damp stone.

You bit into a chunk of stale bread, pausing to chew around the hard crust before swallowing, “No one wants to live forever.”

“Rich people do,” He murmured, flipping over onto his stomach to do some push-ups.

You averted your eyes. He was right; if you were rich, you would’ve probably chosen the latter option too.

“I’ll choose to live forever when I get out of this goddamn cell. But for now, we’re sticking with knowing how I die,” The raven-haired man huffed out through each strenuous push-up. He’s been getting weaker and weaker by the day, living off of nothing but crispy bread and metallic water and the occasional measly slice of dry apple.

“You’re not getting out,” You scoffed. “We’re not getting out. Why do you keep saying that we will?”

Wooyoung falls flat onto his stomach, blowing his hair away from his eyes in frustration, “And why do you keep saying that we won’t? Do you really think we’re going to die here?”

Throwing your hands up into the air, mouth full and bread crumbs rimming your lips, you nodded vehemently, “Yes! Look around us, Wooyoung. How on Earth would you plan on getting out? I’ve been trying for forever before you came around. I’m still here.”

“Yeah, but that was back when I wasn’t here. Now I am.”

“That’s absolutely great, genius. But guess what? We’re still stuck here!”

Wooyoung scowled at your salty remark. He crawled closer to the bars looking down the hallway to make sure no guards were near. 

Glancing back to you, he whisper-yelled, “I have a plan.” 

“That’s a stupid plan,” You sneered, deadpanning.

The man across from you rolled his eyes, “It’s the only one we’ve got.”

“You do know they’ll find out eventually, right? We can’t just go back to our normal lives.”

“Then let’s run away.” His gaze bore into you as you felt yourself flush heavily. “You and me. We can sneak our way onto a fishing boat, sail off to someplace… not here.”

A shiver ran up your arms, gooseflesh prickling your skin, “Stop.” You mumbled. “Don’t get my hopes up.”

Wooyoung grasped the bars tightly, knuckles turning white, “Y/N, listen to me. We can do it. I swear, I’ll get you out of here.”

It was stupid, you knew it was. But you couldn’t help the small spark of hope flare in the middle of your chest, heart pumping just a tad quicker at his words. Hope was an intoxicating drug; you either get sucked into some sort of deluded fantasy, or live without the illusions of false happiness. 

However, The words left you before you even had a chance to hesitate. “You promise?”

“I swear on my next slice of dried apple.” He said, eyes twinkling with excitement behind the shaggy, overgrown hair. 

“Okay.” You breathed out, somewhat satisfied. The dull ache in your spine was ignored as you slumped against the stone wall, closing your eyes and imagining what outside was like. All you could recall about outside was how terrible it was. Of course, not as bad as being in here, but not much to look forward to.

Cracking an eye open, you glanced to Wooyoung, who had curled up into himself in the corner of his cell, slightly obscured by the shadows. 

Life outside seemed better when you imagined yourself with Wooyoung.

“Remember the plan?”

Wooyoung snorted, rolling his eyes, “How many times have you asked me that now?”

You scowled, “Just making sure you won’t mess anything up. Can you really guarantee you’re strong enough to knock him out?” 

Biting down on his lip, he shrugged in a nonchalant manner, “I’ll try my best. And if that’s not enough, well… it was nice meeting you.”

The two of you waited in tense silence for a couple minutes, the expected thudding of boots coming down to give the two of you your meals for the day. The familiar grey eyes of the guard swept over the two of you, bending down your cell first to shove the tray through the narrow slot like he had hundreds of times before. 

Then, he turned to Wooyoung.

“What’s on the menu today, sir?” 

Stormy eyes narrowed, the guard’s nose wrinkled in distaste, “Th’ same shit you eat every day.” His gravelly voice rumbled, clearly not used to prisoners being able to talk, much less form coherent sentences. “It’s what criminals like you deserve.”

A gasp of mock-offense left Wooyoung in the most dramatic manner possible, “Why, if stopping a rapist from raping is worse than being a killer and killing, then I must be the worst criminal alive.”

“You better shut your mouth before I get half the mind to carve your tongue out for you.” The guard spat, nearing closer towards the bars menacingly, one hand on the hilt of his sword. He wasn’t below leaving a prisoner bleeding and tongueless. 

Wooyoung did nothing but raise an eyebrow, “Oh, come now! I’m sure you’ve had your fair share of kills. Especially when you swore an oath to protect a murderous king!”

Your eyes widened slightly; you had no idea he would go as far as to claim treason. 

The guard, however, cackled the ugliest laugh you’d ever heard. “You seem really not to like your tongue, boy. Only, for that comment, they’ll be taking your head along with it.”

It all happened so quickly, you wouldn’t even have the time to scream if you wanted to. 

Just as the guard leaned closer tauntingly, nose almost brushing against the rusty metal bars, Wooyoung grabbed the front of the guard’s steel collar, yanking him forward into the metal columns with all of his might.

A sickening crack echoed across the stone. 

It happened again, and again, and three more times after that. Wooyoung was panting, eyes wild.

“Is he dead?” You craned your neck to try to get a good look, but it was too dark to make out much of anything. 

“No. He’ll wake up with a nasty concussion in a couple hours, give or take.” 

“Where’d you learn how to do that?” You asked, heart pounding far too loudly in your ribcage. The faint sound of jingling almost had you bursting into tears of joy. He had the keys.

A small, non-committal hum emitted from Wooyoung’s cell. “You learn from dreaming about all the different ways you could’ve done that to the crown prince. And thankfully, I got the chance.” Suddenly, Wooyoung appeared in front of your cell, a ring of small keys hanging from his pointer finger, the widest grin spread across his face. “Told you I’d get you out, didn’t I?”

[richietoaster]

As I Am, You Understand

reddie

words: 2,217

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me writing tooth rotting fluff impulsively and posting at 3:30am? more likely than you think

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Richie has a date. It’s not his first date, but it’s the first time he’s felt alive in a long time. He makes sure to shower double the time he usually does, scrubbing his body with his dad’s Sandalwood and Eucalyptus bodywash, and, fuck it, he even conditions his hair too.

He feels like he’s in a movie and that’s how he knows he’s got it bad. Richie dances in the shower using the bottle as a microphone to sing loudly. He feels ignited- on fire. Honestly, it’s a surprise to him that he’s going on a date. To the fucking carnival. What kind of teen movie is this? Richie will be going to college with the love of his life type of shit? Actually, he thinks, that’s not a bad idea. 

Richie doesn’t want to think about college, to be fair. He got accepted into UCLA, the best university ever, but all his mind consists of golden brown hair and eyes, consists of his best friend, the love of his life, and-- quite frankly, he’s not sure how Eddie said yes to a date with him. Him. Out of all people.

Richie looks over to his friends at the lunch table and throws a fry at Stanley’s face. “Any you fuckers goin’ to the carnival?” He says as Stan steals another off of Richie’s plate for payback. They’re all waiting for Eddie to get his lunch and come sit with them.

“Yeah, this weekend.” Bev responds, “Ben and I are going on a date.”

“Well, good for you for finally figuring out your feelings. It only took, what? Since the eighth grade?” Richie smirks at them. He supposes he’s not one to talk, since everyone under the sun except Eddie himself, knows about Richie’s crush on him. 

“You are not one to talk,” Mike says with a pointed look. 

“Y-Yeah,” Bill agrees, “Why don’t you ask Eddie to go with you?”

“Yeah, ask him on a date.” Ben shrugs. “What’s the worst thing that could happen?”

“The worst?” Richie asks incredulously. He counts on his fingers, “Well, one, he could say no. Two, it could make him uncomfortable. Three, he might never talk to me again. Four, he could say no. And, five, he might never fucking talk to me again.”

Stan rolls his eyes, “You’re being dramatic. Just ask him, Rich. I’m positive you’ll get the answer you want.”

Richie shakes his head, “No, nope. Mhm-hmph. I am not asking Eddie.”

Everyone’s eyes go wide, staring right past Richie. Richie feels goosebumps on his arms immediately, because oh. Oh no.. That can’t be good. 

Richie turns around and focuses his gaze on Eddie, who’s looking at him with a confused expression.

“Ask me what, Rich?”

Richie turns around to look at his friends for help, but they all exchange glances and get up to move to another table. 

“Thanks, you guys. Yeah, love you too!” Richie calls after them. 

“What was up with that?” Eddie asks, sitting down next to him, setting his tray on the table.

“I-.. Shit..” Richie breathes out a shaky breath. “I.. I.. we were talking about the town carnival this weekend.”

“Oh.. yeah, I heard it’s gonna be really fun this year.. But what does that have to do with-?” Eddie cuts himself off, and Richie can see the second it clicks for Eddie. “Richie, were you going to-?” 

This time Richie cuts him off.“N-Not like that! I mean- or- or- unless you wanted to of course? I don’t know, I figured it could be fun- like the two of us! We always have fun together. And.. And like recently it seemed like things might be feeling different between us- like- like- I don’t know, like-” Eddie covers Richie’s mouth with his hand.

“Richie. Ask me.” Richie’s eyes widen. Eddie removes his hand from Richie’s mouth.

“Eds, will you be my date to the carnival this weekend?” Richie gulps, almost afraid of this just being a cruel, and very unfunny joke. Except, Eddie’s smiling wide, and straightening up.

“Of course I will, you big dummy.” He stands and picks his tray up. “I wasn’t planning on staying long, I actually wasn’t going to even stop by the table.. but I wanted to see you guys. I have to go to the library to work on a project, but..” Eddie bites his lip and Richie really feels like he’s in a cliche movie. “I’ll call you later?”

Richie can barely process what just happened, so he settles by answering with a weak nod. 

“Great!” Eddie has a faint blush rising to his cheeks. “I’ll.. call you later, then.”

Richie watches Eddie walk away, and once he’s out of sight, he’s fist pumping the air. 

And now it’s an hour before they’re supposed to meet and Richie’s heart is booming in his chest. Honestly, Richie feels like the world’s luckiest guy. Like, for real, how the fuck did he score a date with his best friend in the entire universe? The cutest boy in mankind? It’s completely unreal, if anyone were to ask him. 

Richie arrives ten minutes early and sits on the wooden fence to wait for Eddie. He told Eddie earlier that he could come pick him up, but Eddie insisted on meeting up- claims it would be aesthetic, like an eighties movie. The cheeseball. 

But as he checks his phone each passing minute, before he knows it, it’s almost an hour. And he’s about to leave, accept that it was in fact, a cruel and unfunny joke, but he hears his name being called out.

“Rich! Richie!” He can hear Eddie sounding out of breath as he gets closer.

“Did.. did you fucking run here?”

Eddie puts his hands on his knees to breathe easier and nods, “I.. I couldn’t find my phone.. Was gonna text you and.. tell you that I’d.. I’d be late…” He inhales deeply a few times after struggling to complete a sentence. Eddie finishes, “but I couldn’t find my phone.. And then my mom was yanno.. Sonia-ing it up..”

Richie stifles out a loud laugh, “Sonia-ing it up?”

“Yeah!” Eddie chuckles. “Her being like ‘don’t go out Eddie, air is bad.’ shit like that.”

“Air is bad..” Richie repeats and continues to laugh. Eddie grins at him and takes Richie’s hand, threading his fingers between his own.

“I’m glad I got you laughing.” Eddie admits.

“Why wouldn’t I laugh at that?” 

The two walk in together, immediately going to the ticket booth and buying just enough to ride every ride if they wanted to. But their first stop is to the cheese fries. 

“Because,” Eddie shrugs, finally responding. “I was afraid you’d be upset that I was late. I didn’t want you to think that I was-”

“-standing me up?”

“Yes, exactly. But, you know that wasn’t the case, now.” 

“I’m not mad, Spaghetti. Can’t be mad at someone as cute as you.” Richie winks and Eddie’s face flushes.

“Yeah- actually, that reminds me- when did you start liking me? Because I’ve been literally pining over you for.. for.. At least freshman or sophomore year.” Eddie leads them both to a table nearby and they sit together.

“Hah,” Richie says, “I got you beat by at least a year or two. I’ve been in-” He coughs, “I’ve liked you since 8th grade when I accidentally made you trip in the hallway going to science class. You picked yourself up like it was nothing, and just smiled at me and said, ‘you’re lucky I like you’ with that little huff you do when you’re either annoyed or embarrassed.”

Eddie does the exact huff that Richie’s talking about and says, “I do not do that.”

Richie smirks at him.

“Oh, fuck off.” Eddie pauses and looks up at Richie through his eyelashes, and Richie thinks for a split second that Eddie might be debating on kissing him, but instead he continues, “I never expected in like, my wildest and probably wet dreams that you would ever like me back. But you were just babbling on and on at lunch and it just.. It just clicked for me. I figured if I didn’t help you out, you’d have a fucking stroke, so, there’s that. You’re welcome.”

“Okay first of all- wet dreams, huh? You have wet dreams about me, do you?” Eddie pushes at his shoulder and chuckles. “Okay, okay!” A quick pause. “And second of all, I wasn’t gonna have a stroke, thank you.”

“Oh, no. You definitely were. And then you had the audacity to be like ‘but it can be a date if you want it to be’ like? Have you not been with me in the same situations the past two weeks? I swear.. We both almost confessed feelings multiple times.” 

“When we were in your bed a few nights ago, your head was on my chest and I was actually terrified you were gonna wake up to the sound of it beating so loud.” Richie tells him, “You have no idea how badly I wanted to kiss you then.”

“I think I have a pretty good idea, actually.” Eddie admits. And then they’re both quiet, staring at one another, not sure if they’re supposed to make the first move or not. The moment passes, and Eddie stands up, the empty box of fries in his hand. “I’m gonna throw this away real quick.”

“Yeah, no, go ahead.”

And then Eddie’s returning seconds later to grab at his hand, “Come on, let’s get in line for the Ferris Wheel.”

Richie groans, “But the Ferris Wheel always has the longest line!”

“Stop complaining.”

“Fineeee,” Richie says.

“You’re so dramatic,” Eddie laughs. “Speaking of which, are you excited about UCLA? I know it must’ve been hard picking your major. But I’m glad you went with Theater. You’re an amazing performer.”

Richie is silent for a minute. He was really hoping they would stay away from the topic. He’s terrified of the future. “I.. thanks, honestly. It’s.. It’s so weird, you know? That graduation is literally in like, a month. We have the summer.. Together.. And with our friends.. But then everyone is off to college. It’s kinda scary, Eds. Don’t you think?”

“Well, not really, since we all got accepted into schools in California. I think it’s pretty great. We’ll be closer than you realize. And.. I’ve kept it from you for so long, but.. I got accepted into the University of Southern California.” Eddie smiles softly at him.

“Eds.. holy shit, that is literally like a twenty minute drive from UCLA.. did you fuckin’ plan that?”

“No,” Eddie laughs, “But it is super convenient, right?”

“Don’t think for a minute I won’t be spending every second I can with you. You won’t be able to get rid of me.”

“Next!” The ride operator interrupts their conversation and holds on his hand for the tickets, which Eddie hands him.

They get in the cart and the guy slams the cart’s gate shut, locking the side. “Keep your arms, legs, hands, and feet, inside the car at all times. Have fun.”

They stay quiet for a few minutes, two times around the Ferris Wheel, and then Richie speaks.

“I was actually afraid you guys would like. I don’t know. Want better friends than me in college.”

Eddie looks at him, “Rich, you know that’s absolutely crazy, yeah? We could never want to replace you.”

“That’s not what I said,” Richie grumbles.

“It’s what you meant.” Eddie retorts. “But that would never happen. We’re all gonna have the time of our fucking lives in California together. Crashing each other’s dorms parties-”

“-you’re gonna be a pariter? Yeah, okay, right.”

“New school year, new state, new me!”

“It’s not New Year’s, Eds.” Richie chuckles.

“Might as well be. Anyway, the point is we’re all gonna be together.. and.. And most importantly,” Eddie links their fingers together, “We get to be together.”

“Aren’t we together right now? I mean-” The Ferris Wheel stops and they’re at the very top. “Do you want to be together? More than friends?”

“Finally you’re getting the hint.” 

Richie chokes on his own spit. “Well, I- me too. I want that to.”

“Good,” Eddie rests his head on Richie’s shoulder. “Then that’s what we are. Together. Boyfriends.”

“Boyfriends.” Richie breathes.

“And it’ll be better when we’re out of buttfuck Derry, and in literally one of the most beautiful places in the world.” Eddie says. 

“Good.” 

“Good,” Eddie agrees, “because like I said, you’re not getting rid of me anytime soon, Rich.”

“Well, then I don’t plan on going anywhere, so I guess you’ll just have to get used to the fact that I’m gonna be in your future.”

Eddie pauses for a moment, lifting his head off of Richie’s shoulder, “Well.. then, here’s to the future.”

Without missing a beat, Richie looks down and tilts Eddie’s chin up. “No.. Here's to right now,” and leans down to press a soft kiss to his lips, Eddie’s hand reaching up to cup Richie’s cheek. Their mouths move slow and in sync together.

And, yeah, their future may be important, as graduation is slowly approaching and college is nearing closer, but so is this moment.

This moment is the start to a beautiful beginning; their beginning. 

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[doomedandstoned]

Iron Man Cement 30-Year Career with Monumental Double Album (+ new song!)

~Doomed & Stoned Debuts~

Review by Billy Goate

This is more than an album. It is more, even, than a portrait of quintessential New England doom metal. It is a testament to the enduring power of music and friendship to bring a collective dream to life and to sustain it to the bitter end.

The new double album 'Hail To The Riff' (2021) showcases 14 anthems by Maryland doom legends IRON MAN. With the exception of one previously unreleased studio song, the bulk of the material was performed live at Castle of Doom Festival in Pagazzano, Italy on Saturday, July 5th, 2014. It was the band's one and only trip to Italy, now being released for the first time (appropriately enough) by Italian label Argonauta Records.

Many of you know the Iron Man story. Founded back in '88 as a Black Sabbath cover band, the guys gradually started playing their own compositions and were ecstatic by the positive reception the original material received. Iron Man released their first album in '93 and over the course of many decades, went on to tour the world with the likes of Cathedral and Pentagram, composing many a doom standard along the way ("Hail To The Haze" will forever be my fav).

"In the beginning, Iron Man had two jobs," guitarist Al Morris told Doomed & Stoned some years back. "First, we were a Sabbath tribute. We were able to headline shows and get people talking about the band. Second, we were writing original music for a demo to shop. Everything went as planned! By May of 1992, we got signed to Hellhound Records in Germany. That kind of history, coupled with the internet, gave us worldwide exposure. The fans did not let us get frustrated! We are totally motivated by our fans. We have them in mind at all times." (Read the classic Doomed & Stoned interview with Iron Man.)

It should surprise no one that Hail To The Riff   is dedicated straight up to Alfred Morris III, who sadly died in 2018. As he was the longest-standing member of Iron Man and its most consistent face, it made sense when the group disbanded after the passing of its founding member.

"The Type of person my father was," Al's daughter reflects, "he never expected anything huge. He just enjoyed doing what he loved. Music was in his blood; part of his DNA and he wasn’t complete without it...As long as I can remember, Iron Man was a large part of my dad’s life, and mine. My first rock show? My dad’s band. The first live show I ever saw was Iron Man. Watching my dad perform, I saw him transform. He had this amazing stage presence. An effortless grace when he played guitar that was mesmerizing. Even though I had seen him play a thousand times, I was always impressed!"

I spoke with Screaming Mad Dee Calhoun in 2018, near the 30th anniversary of Iron man and just a few months following Al's death. "Just on a personal note, I don't think anything I'm doing now," Dee reflected, in reference to his burgeoning solo career, "would have been possible without being a part of Al and Iron Man. Al was very supportive of my efforts outside of Iron Man, be it music or writing or what not. I can never thank him enough for just tapping me on the shoulder and saying, 'Hey I want you to join my band?'" Dee continued, "No one I ever knew who knew Al ever had a bad word to say about him. He was just one of those guys who was a positive influence on people. Once he touched a project, it was better than before he touched it. We certainly miss him.

As a follow-up I asked hnw people could get better acquainted with Al's contribution and really hear his spirit. Dee replied, "Just start with Black Night and work forward. He would want to be remembered by his music. Just sit back and enjoy what he had to bring to the world." That album's title track is no. 13 on the playlist below us, and Al shines just as bright on it here as he did on their cardinal opus. What band could hope for a better life than Iron Man had, with their unlikely success leading them to record five LPs and three EPs, crossing some of the world's greatest record labels?

Hail To The Riff   begins with a cheering throng and the grungy downtuned riffing of Al Morris, to be joined in short order by Louis Strachan on bass and Jason "Mot" Waldmann on drums. At last, Screaming Mad Dee belts out hellfire and brimstone in his scratchy quasi-operatic style (who, it must said, has one of the most intimidating voices in all of metal). "Make some goddamn noise!" The crowd eats it up, of course.

At this point, I'd advise you to make any room corrections you need to, as live recordings tend to be a unique beast all their own. They always sound a little "thin" and "boxy" to me. I found simply turning the volume up a few notches more than for casual listening brought this live recording alive for me. I did not, however, tempt fate by listening with earphones (I'm already dealing with enough tinnitus from my many years of filming live shows).

"The time is here to strike fear. We are Iron Man, bringing you 25 years of Maryland doom!" That really fires up the festival for what would become the band's third and final live albums. If this had been your first time hearing Iron Man, you would encounter a group in top form with accessible songs like "Run From The Light" that capture so powerfully the spirit of metal, itself a kind of freak born of the age of electricity.

Since I don't have perfect pitch, I would be hard pressed to determine just where Al's axe is tuned for this set. Judging from tracks like "The Worst and Longest Day'' and "South of the Earth," let's just say it's low enough to confuse the guitar sometimes for the bass (and when you listen a second time, the bass is often hitting a similar if not lower range). Remind me to ask the guys next time I get a chance and I'll add a note to this article with their answer. I'll be there were a lot of fans that day who were really feeling that Iron Man vibe on a raw, gut level as the sound reverberated through from their internal organs, ultimately grabbing hold of their spine with a mighty grip of doom, and shaking their bones like a rattle.

I've always said the acid test of any band is their ability to pull their songs off convincingly in a live setting. So many things can go wrong, but the way a band bounces through the hurdles of that 30-60 minute set tells you everything. You know right away whether you're dealing with confident musicians who believe it to the core, or wannabes who are fronting a hype machine. To hear Dee make "South of the Earth" work without the cool vocal layering from the recording and still give you chills says everything you need to know about the integrity of Iron Man as a band.

Time for the bottom line. Hail To The Riff   is nothing less than a celebration of metal-making, friendship, and the mysterious power of the riff to compel us -- no matter who we are, what language we speak, or what our differences may be -- to assemble together as a sweaty mass under a hot Italian sun in the middle of summer and revel in the pure love of heavy music. If you close your eyes, you can almost picture yourself there.

Of course, the real treat for Iron Man acolytes is going to be the solemn 14th and final track, "Black Morning." The band recorded it in late-September of 2013, just days before South of the Earth saw its release on Rise Above Records (later on Metal Blade Records, too). Hearing the words and the instruments meet in such perfect execution and conviction brought a single thought to my mind: "These guys really get doom." Long live the ferocity and might of Iron Man!

The album is officially out this Friday on digital outlets, with a special gold vinyl 2XLP available via Argonauta Records. Right now, Doomed & Stoned is letting you revel in it all! So sit back, turn those speakers up, and...

...give ear.

Iron Man - Hail The Riff

Tracklist

The Fury

Run From the Light

The Worst and Longest Day

Ruler of Ruin

South of the Earth

Grown

As the Gods Have Spoken

Hail to the Haze

Sodden With Sin

A Whore in Confession

On the Mountain

Fallen Angel

Black Night

Black Morning

Follow The Band

Get Their Music

[tallmadgeandtea]

O Zion Arise

Hi everyone! So, this scene is a bit different because it’s actually from Benjamin’s POV instead of Elizabeth’s. This is one of the only scenes I wrote from his perspective that I am actually proud of. Like the last one, this scene takes place after the events of May 1778 and features what I love most about Benjamin and Elizabeth’s relationship: the softness they have for one another. The title is taken from my favorite Shaker song/hymn. I hope you enjoy! 

SS&SP Spoilers under the cut!

It was morning.

He could tell from the light coming in through the windows in front of him, the curtains slightly drawn open, only letting in a partial amount. The light was becoming brighter as the month came closer to ending, as June slowly approached. It was getting lighter earlier, the light was lasting longer. 

He desperately needed it, held onto it, let it guide him. Light was what he used to tell time, now. Light reminded him where he was, light let him see whether it was morning or nighttime and everything in between. There was no clock in the room where he was staying, the room where he was being kept. And he didn’t have a watch to wear in the first place. 

The sun was always the weakest, the most restrained, in the morning. It was slowly waking, rising, letting itself be seen. It had been used to being hidden, to sleeping. It would take time for it to regain consciousness, energy. It would take time for it to appear the way it always did, the way it was meant to.

The same could go for you, he thought.

He was always weakest in the morning.

He was always weakest in the morning, when his body tore him from the comfort of sleep- as if a comfortable sleep existed, as if he ever had it. He wasn’t looking for comfort, even if he needed it, even if he craved it. He was looking for rest. Rest was what he needed the most, rest was what was required and what was never given to him- until now, when it seemed to be endless, the only thing he was given, the only thing he was allowed. 

Everything else had been taken away. 

Nothing had been given back to him.

He was always weakest in the morning, and in the evening.

After the morning came the slow hours, the hours when all he could do was lay in wait, like a hound waiting for the next hunt. That was what he did, all day- he waited. He waited for Elizabeth to wake up, to bring him a meager breakfast of broth or tea- they hadn’t said when he was allowed solid food. 

He waited for McHenry to come and exam him for the first time that day, to help him sit up straight so he could change the bandages, so he could inspect the damage done, as if he hadn’t seen it countless times before. He sat in silence as the doctor concentrated, his fingers moving over each inch of the wound with a trained, acquired precision. He tried carefully, but the sting and soreness never went away, triggered like a canon whenever the wound was touched. Even the slightest movement made him close his eyes, bite his lip to suppress a groan or a moan or worse, a scream. His voice was slowly returning, but he wouldn’t let himself.

You have screamed enough. This house does not need more chaos. This house does not need more pain.

And what about me? He asked.

His mind never answered. 

“I’m sorry, Benjamin,” McHenry would say, his voice steady and calm. He had become used to saying the words. “I assure you the pain and the soreness will not last as long as you think they will. It never does.”

He just wanted it to be over.

He just wanted to be healed.

After McHenry came the visitors, the well wishers. He hated every one of them, muttered a swear under his breath each time the door was opened. He couldn’t send them away, couldn’t hide in shame. 

Why did they want to see him like this? 

His fellow aides, each one, it seemed, at a different hour of the day, peeking through the door. No one of them had entered the room, they only gripped onto the doorway for a brief few moments. They only made small talk- talk of what was happening downstairs, things Elizabeth couldn’t tell him. Talk of the general orders for the day, of the letters being sent out, of the latest developments in camp. Only Hamilton talked the longest, the most in depth. He had been given the burden of managing the ring while Benjamin recovered. He couldn’t tell if Hamilton loved it, or hated it. 

His Dragoons came, too, all of them in one large group, a single unit taking up too much space in the hallway. They all talked at once, quickly, as if they couldn’t wait to get back into camp and leave him behind. “We are so glad to see you recovering, sir. It will only be a matter of time before we- and you, as well, god willing- return to the field, sir.” They looked at him as if they didn’t know him, as if he wasn’t their commander, their leader. 

You do not look like a leader, you look like a body in a bed. You look small and weak and fragile, feeble.

You look as if you are dying.

You were.

Caleb was the only welcome one. He stepped into the room whenever he pleased, without a knock or someone introducing him- that was another thing Benjamin hated about these visits. People being introduced by one of the aides or life guards or Elizabeth. “Benjamin, someone is here to see you.” As if he could reject it. 

General Washington must have felt that way constantly.  

But not Caleb. Although he didn’t kick the door open and strut in the way Benjamin expected, he came in the room regardless, without asking. He entered slowly, always asked the same question, “Are you sleeping, Benny boy? I don’t want to interrupt you dreaming of dear Lizzie.” 

And then he walked over to the chair directly by Benjamin’s bedside, reclining and rocking as if they were sitting in Benjamin’s tent. It felt normal, almost. Caleb’s presence was welcoming and comforting. Besides McHenry, Caleb had helped him where Elizabeth couldn’t. He had shaved him, for God’s sake.

He stayed for as long as he could, talking away, about what was happening in camp, but more importantly, what was happening with the ring. 

“Do Abe and Anna know?” He had asked. “Do they know what happened?”

He couldn’t say the last part.

Do they know what happened to me?

“I haven’t seen the chance to see either of them,” Caleb responded. “The last time I saw Abe was when I was trying to get him out of prison. If he doesn’t know, neither does Anna.”

Elizabeth had written a letter to his father, explaining what happened. After he made it, after he was out of the woods.

His reply had yet to arrive.

And when Caleb wasn’t there, it was the people Benjamin wanted to see the least. 

It was the officers, the superiors, who came to see General Washington and decided to stop by before they left. General Greene, General Knox, all of them.  They all knew what happened- they had been in the house, during the worst of it. Greene must’ve seen and heard it, the entire ordeal, from his quarters. 

Even General Arnold had stopped by, for an uncomfortable moment; Colonel Sheldon saw him as soon as he rode into camp. 

Officers, who should he should have been able to stand for, who he should’ve saluted. 

Instead, all he could give them was a nod. 

His aching body wouldn’t let him do anything else.

And then, the evening came, and started to take away his strength. The strength he had left. The strength he spent waiting and seeing and hearing and trying to heal. Healing took the most of it. Healing was greedy. 

And with the evening came General Washington. 

He ate his dinners in Benjamin’s room.

At Benjamin’s bedside, the same way he did the first night, the night after he woke, the night he came back to life.

They barely talked- Washington ate and watched him. Washington hovered. He asked if Benjamin needed anything, if there was anything he could do for him, if there was any way he could help. If he needed to see someone, if Washington needed to summon McHenry or Cochran immediately. If he wanted medicine, if he wanted his pain erased by laudanum. “Just say the words, and I will see it done, Benjamin.”

“You have given me enough, sir.”

He didn’t want anything else.

And if he did want something, Washington couldn’t give it to him. 

No matter how badly he wanted to.

He left when it was clear Benjamin was declining, when it was clear he was fading. He tried to hide it, keep up a facade, but it was impossible. His body fought him and won. 

Washington left, and Elizabeth took his place.

Elizabeth.

The person Benjamin wanted to see most of all. 

She had started to leave him, to spend her time outside of the room. She would go home, or she would be downstairs. He didn’t know whether she was trying to give him space, or if she was trying to pull herself away from him. Trying to ween herself off of him.

As soon as he got better, he would leave her.

He would leave, and they both knew it. 

But he loved the time of day when she appeared, closing the door. She closed the door, and shielded him from the world. She let him be alone, she let him decompress, collapse into the mattress and let his weary muscles relax, his weary muscles rest. When she was there, he didn’t have to worry about anyone seeing him. No aides, no officers, no generals, no Washington. He didn’t have to worry about anyone pitying him. 

She closed the door, and she closed the curtains, lit the candles. Then, she got undressed, put her clothes in a pile on the cot underneath the windows, the makeshift bed she had been using. And, when the room was quiet, when the only sounds were her footsteps and his heavy breathing, she walked over to the bed, and gently lay beside him.

They were finally allowed to sleep in the same bed.

With no worry, no secrecy, no guilt. 

She lay beside him, as gently as she could, more gently than he ever thought possible. It was the only requirement. “Be gentle with him,” McHenry had told her, as if Benjamin wasn’t there, as if he wasn’t listening. This was on the first night, after, apparently, McHenry had went to change the bandages and discovered Elizabeth sleeping beside him. 

And gentle she was.

He hadn’t realized how much he missed her, how much he missed feeling her body against his, feeling her soft, warm touch. Her touch was the only thing that could take the pain away. The stinging and the soreness, the soul crushing weight. It was a fire on a cold night, the sea on a summer day. A relieving gift, a thing you could never take for granted. A thing you remembered, a thing you cherished.

She was the only one who could take the pain away.

She was the only one who could heal him.

Elizabeth.

It was morning, and she wasn’t there.

It was morning, and she wasn’t beside him.

It was morning, and he was in pain.

He was always in pain. 

He just wanted to heal.

He just wanted her.

Benjamin opened his eyes, waited for the world to become clear.

And then, he found her.

She was sitting at the vanity, sitting in front of him, between the two windows, between the sunlight, in the still, partial darkness of dawn. He could barely see himself in the candlelight, laying behind her in the mirror. He could barely see her- see her face. All he saw was the outline of her body, her shape as she moved in place. 

All he could do was watch her.

He was content with that.

It was morning, and he was watching Elizabeth.

The silence was swiftly- but softly- broken.

Elizabeth was singing.

She was singing to herself, under her breath, barely above a whisper, and he almost didn’t hear it. It was like a light breeze, overpowered by the sound of the birds chirping outside, the river running. The camp hadn’t come to life yet. The valley was still sleeping. 

She thought she was alone, that he was still sleeping, too. He was caught between sleep and restless, life and slumber. Before what had happened, before their lives were changed, he was the first one to rise in the morning. When he lied with her, he was awoken by Mary, every morning, every dawn. “You need to get back to camp, Major.” 

Before anyone could see him.

Before anyone could know.

He got ready in silence, in solitude, Mary waiting for him outside the door, handing him the reins of his horse and watching him ride down the long road back to life, back to the valley. 

He used to be the one waking alone.

He wished it was still him.

Elizabeth never stirred. 

Elizabeth was singing to herself.

She was singing a hymn.

A hymn, a psalm. He remembered it well. It was his father’s favorite. He tried to include it whenever he could in his sermons, in the Sunday worship. If he closed his eyes he knew he would see himself back in Setauket, sitting in the front pew on the right, watching his father proudly standing at the pulpit, preaching and praying.

Elizabeth sounded more beautiful than any chorus could. 

Her voice, as quiet as it was, was more beautiful than the lyrics of any hymn could ever be.

He believed in her more than a hymn, more than a prayer.

He loved her, as much as he loved God himself.

Elizabeth was singing a hymn. 

“Elizabeth,” he spoke for the first time that morning, and he couldn’t help it when her name came out in the form of a whisper, of a groan. 

The pain was always at its peak in the morning.

She turned, she looked over her shoulder. He saw the hairbrush, the blonde curls framing her face like a halo. She had been getting ready.

She had been getting ready to leave.

And then, he saw her smile. 

“Benjamin,” she said.

He heard her voice.

He heard her voice, and the pain was gone. 

“Come here,” he said. “Come here, and be near me.”

Please, he wanted to say. 

Elizabeth rose out of her chair, and in the darkness she looked as if she was in a dream, as if she had suddenly appeared, a vision of calmness and serenity in her shift, a vision of beauty, pure white. She looked like an angel. 

She stood over the bed, her fingers grabbing his outstretched hand. “Good morning,” she whispered. 

He leaned into her touch, pulling her closer. He wanted her closer- he needed her closer. 

He needed the pain to be taken away.

“Are you getting ready to leave me?” He heard himself, and realized how small his voice was. How helpless he sounded.

You are helpless.

And she was the only one who could save him. 

Elizabeth nodded. Her smile had changed. “Yes, but only if you want me to.”

“I don’t.”

Not when the pain was still clinging to him, not when he was at his lowest point, not while the sun was rising and he was falling. 

Not when he couldn’t heal by himself.

“Stay, Elizabeth. Please.”

He finally let himself say what he was always thinking.

And she always knew before he even had the chance to say it.

He felt the bed shift as another body joined him, the sheets tangling underneath him, the blankets being moved above him. 

“I’m here, Benjamin.”

He knew, because he could feel her touch.

The only touch that didn’t hurt.

The only touch that took away the pain instead of giving into it.

“Thank you, Elizabeth.”

She kissed his shoulder, found his hand, wrapped her fingers around it. “Get some rest, please.”

“Anything for you, my dear.”

He wanted to heal.

He wanted to heal for her.

“Anything for you, Elizabeth.”

[fireinmoonshot]

REBEL | ARMITAGE HUX x READER | PART SEVEN

CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR THE RISE OF SKYWALKER.

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE | PART FOUR | PART FIVE | PART SIX Summary: Armitage Hux finds himself strangely fascinated by you, a Resistance fighter and pilot, even though he knows he shouldn’t. You know that there’s much more to him than you see on the surface. Pairing: female!Reader x Armitage Hux Fandom: Star Wars Word Count: 4560 Warnings: THE RISE OF SKYWALKER SPOILERS, death mentions.  A/N: First of all, thank you for being so patient in waiting for this one! I’ve had the absolute busiest couple of days after Christmas, especially with work and going to see TROS again on Saturday. I’m a bit uncertain about this chapter simply because I’m terrible at writing Star Wars battle scenes... but I tried my best and did a few drafts of this and now I’m just putting it up so I can move on to writing Part Eight. Anyway, thank you for all the love so far. I hope you enjoy this part – the longest so far! Read it on Ao3 here.

Armitage Hux has never particularly been a fan of hot weather.

In the hours he’s spent on Ajan Kloss, hidden away in the caves of the Klosslands and moving back and forth between your quarters and the Tantive IV – what used to be General Leia Organa’s command ship – he’s witnessed two spontaneous downfalls of rain followed by an unfair amount of sun, and the warmth that came with it was the worst of all. He really wasn’t used to it – on the Steadfast for the past few months, he’s been surrounded by a constant generated cool air. Here, there’s no such thing.

He shrugs off his coat when he sits down in your quarters, even though it’s the lightest one you could find him. He doesn’t mean to make himself too comfortable, though, so it remains on his lap. This is, after all, your place, and not his. He can’t assume. But the thinner shirt is much more comfortable in the afternoon heat of Ajan Kloss, and you don’t seem to mind as much about the formalities of uniform here, not like the First Order. He’s noticed that half of the Resistance don’t even wear their rank on their sleeves.

It’s refreshing.

–

With him here, now, you feel as though you’ve discovered an entirely different man. Armitage, a Resistance fighter has an entirely different manner to General Hux of the First Order. You’ve taken the time to study the differences in the silence of the afternoon while you wait for any kind of good news, though you fear it may never come.

He sits on a chair across the room from you and stares out the open curtain at the bustling Resistance base outside. The quarters that you live in are nothing special and were assembled quickly, which explains why you can hear the buzz of everyone still talking and working outside. It’s something you’ve grown to find quite reassuring, though you’re unsure what Armitage has come to think of it.

It must be a large change for him.

He still holds himself as tall and proud as he did when you saw him on the Steadfast for the first time, a member of the First Order through and through. He still has trouble allowing his emotions to pass over his face without hiding them immediately, which is something you assume he was taught. Yet sometimes you spot a vague smile on his lips or the beginning of a small twitch of laughter. Every time you notice something like that, you’re even happier that you made the choice to offer him your hand and that he made the choice to take it.

Perfectly timed, and just as you open your mouth to break the silence, a frantic knock sounds on your door. Armitage looks away from the outside, at the door and then at you.

“It’s open.”

The door clicks open and Rose stands on the other side. “Artoo, he’s found something. You need to come and see this.” Her eyes flick between you and Armitage. You notice how her eyebrows furrow briefly. And then she surprises you. “Both of you.”

–

Poe is standing alongside Finn, Rose, Chewie, Beaumont and Larma when you both arrive. He’s staring down at something on the screen in front of him, a small moving dot, with a grin on his face. It’s the happiest you’ve seen him look in a while. Finn wears an equally large smile on his own face as he sees you.

You lean down and look at the dot yourself. “Is that what I think it is?”

“Red Five – the infamous X-wing of Luke Skywalker.”

“Oh, it’s Rey,” you breathe, and then you laugh to yourself.

She’s transmitting the location of Exegol to you. She’s leading you right to it, and right now you’re more proud to be her friend than you ever have been.

There’s a smile on your face when you turn and look up at Armitage, and he almost wants to smile at you in return – if only because you seem so infectiously overjoyed. “This is your moment. Is there anything we should know before we follow her?”

Armitage stares at you for a moment, shock filling his system. You’re turning to him for information. You’re counting on him for the help you need. The others around you all follow your lead and direct their attention to him, and he can’t help but perk up a little at the attention. It’s been a while since he’s felt useful.

He doesn’t know just how much information he can give you. But he scours his brain for anything anyway because the feeling of being included is one he finds unfamiliar in a good way. Actually being needed fills him with hope, because after so many months of being pushed back by Allegiant General Pryde, he’d started to feel as though he wasn’t that necessary after all.

–

There’s a buzz in the air as the Resistance runs. Pilots sprint past you to change into their suits, fighters run to the weaponry to stock up on blasters. You notice people hugging, making their goodbyes, and you can’t quite believe that this is it. That after years of fighting, this is the moment it’s all come down to.

Poe gives you a look as he runs off to change, and just as you’re about to make your move to run back to your own quarters and change too, Armitage holds out a hand to stop you.

“Where do you need me?”

“Where do you want to be?”

He pauses. He’s never been in the center of the action. He’s never been a fighter – he’s always been the one to oversee the fighting. To watch on, to tell them what to do and where to hit the hardest. But he knows that he can’t just sit and watch on this one, no matter how dangerous. He can’t sit back, let you and the rest of the Resistance fight your own way out of this and wait for the outcome, whether good or bad.

He has to fight.

“I can’t fly, but I’m not bad with a blaster.”

It’s half a lie. He’s not very good with a blaster in combat.

You don’t see through it, though. You’re impressed, only you hadn’t expected him to offer to fight alongside you. “You heard Finn talking about the ground team he’s leading to take out the nav system? What do you say to joining that team and helping to take it down?”

“I say that sounds entirely acceptable.”

Rose runs past you, and you hold out an arm and stop her. “Hey, you going to the armoury?” She nods. “Can you take Armitage? He needs a blaster. He’s gonna join you on the ground team. Get him kitted up, I need to go change.”

“Yeah, but we need to go now.” Rose beckons him.

There’s no time to waste.

“I’ll find you before we leave!” You point at him, and then you run.

–

Armitage stands and waits by your X-wing – a T-70 X-wing starfighter, black in colour with flares of bright green on the nose. Rose had pointed it out to him when they’d left the armoury and he’d told her he wanted to wait for you. He’s glad he’ll hopefully be able to pick it out among the other X-wings on Exegol.

And you, you keep your word.

You’re dressed in the orange suit of the X-wing pilots when he spots you, much like the suit he’d seen Poe wearing when he’d walked past him to his own X-wing only moments earlier. It’s a different look on you compared to the muted browns and greens of your Resistance uniform, but it suits you – the look of oncoming battle. You look strong, fierce, ready for whatever awaits you on Exegol. He’s a little uneasy at the thought, but he puts his best front on for your sake.

He’s really never fought like this before.

“I got you a little something on my way here,” you say, and he notices you’re a little out of breath, likely from the chaos of getting everything in order before the attack. You hold it out towards him. “Since your First Order buddies took my last one on Pasaana, I figured we should start over, find a way to still keep in contact. And this is the only way we’re gonna be able to stay in touch when we reach Exegol.”

In your hand is a small comlink device.

He takes it out of your hand and then attaches it to his ear.

“Are you positive about flying? You are still injured.” He tries, once.

You fix him with a look. “I’ve done this before, remember? I’m fine. You are the one you need to worry about. You’ve never seen combat like this before, have you?”

And just like that, you catch him.

He clears his throat. “No, not necessarily.”

“Just… follow Finn and Rose’s lead. They’ve got your back. I know it. We all do. As long as you don’t have a momentary lapse and can’t blast the Stormtroopers… you should be fine.”

“There won’t be any problems there. I have blasted some before, you remember.”

You smile. He’d done it before, he could do it again.

Armitage stands tall, glances at your X-wing and then back at you. “You stay safe. I’ve heard and seen that it’s a dangerous business, flying a starfighter in an air fight.”

“You’ve heard right.” You pause, and then look down at the ground for a second, unsure if you should say what you’re thinking. But then you decide to bite the bullet and do it – because you know you’ll regret it if you don’t. “Listen, if I don’t come back from this– if things go wrong and I don’t make it out alive, which is a very real possibility, just stick with Poe or Finn and–“

He snaps. “Don’t say that!”

It’s the first moment in a long while where he’s truly reminded you of the General Hux you’d heard the stories of. The famed General Hux of the First Order, destroyer of planets, killer of civilisations. His eyes get darker, and even though he looks like a Resistance fighter with his brown cotton shirt and slightly messy red hair, you can still sense his upbringing behind the uniform, the remains of a lifetime on the dark side.

And all at the suggestion of your death.

Armitage realises his mistake too late. He swears under his breath and drops his eyes to the ground. He hadn’t meant to say it like that– he’d just wanted to stop you. “Forgive me.”

He peeks up at you through his eyelashes with slightly red tinted cheeks.

His eyes are no longer dark. His expression has changed from the harsh one to a softer one and you see the Armitage you know coming back. You nod slowly at him. “Forgiven.”

And then you surprise both him and yourself by throwing your arms around him and pulling him into a hug.

It’s a little lopsided. He’s taller than you. But you both make it work.

It takes a moment for Armitage to hug you back. It takes him off guard. He’s never… has he ever been hugged before? He can’t recall. But his father was never one for those sort of pleasantries, and he can’t remember a moment in his past at all where he remembers the sensation of a hug. But then he allows his arms to wrap around you and hold you back.

His first hug, and it’s you.

“I meant what I said. You be safe on that ship, Armitage. You come back.”

You pull away, but you keep him at arms length.

“I meant it too.”

Your astromech – R6-LE5 – beeps impatiently from behind you where she waits at the foot of your X-wing. Everyone else around you is getting into their fighters and getting ready for departure, and she’s urging you on. Time is running out, and goodbyes should be brief.

“I’m coming, Leefive. I’m coming.” You turn back to Armitage. “I’ll see you back in this very spot when we win.”

And with that, he watches as you climb up the ladder to your X-wing and slide inside. As you close the roof of the cockpit over your head and secure your helmet. As your droid slots herself into place behind you.

You wave at him as you start the engine.

This time, he waves back.

–

Your first sight of Exegol is enough to inspire nightmares.

The fleet is bigger than you ever expected it to be, and your first sight is soon enough marred by the starfighter beside you being blown to pieces. You swerve to the left, avoiding the debris as much as possible, and wince. You’d never thought this was going to be easy, but you’d had better hopes than this.

Below you, the fleet have begun to fire their cannons at you, and you fall back into the habit of flying your X-wing easily. After months of switching between it and Armitage’s TIE fighter, it feels good to be flying something that’s entirely yours again. It’s dangerous, but you’re filled with adrenaline as you dodge the blaster beams and fire back.

It’s not long after that your excitement is squandered.

“The navigation tower has been de-activated!”  

“What?” Finn sounds panicked.

“The ships need that signal. It’s gotta be coming from somewhere.”

“They figured out what we’re doing. Call off the ground invasion!” Poe calls in, and you can’t help but agree with him – how can they take down the navigation tower when the First Order has done it themselves?

But Finn has other plans. The channel goes silent for a moment, and then he speaks, more confidently than ever. “Wait… the nav signal’s coming from that command ship. That’s our drop zone.”

“You wanna launch a ground invasion on a Star Destroyer?” Lieutenant Tyce says everything that you’re thinking.

“Finn, you can’t be serious!” It’s your turn to object. “You can’t do that! It’s too dangerous! We have to find another way!” You’re worried about his safety – and Rose and Armitage’s safety too. Allowing him to set foot on the destroyer that you’d helped Armitage escape from hours earlier was too risky… what if you lost and they took him back?

“I have no choice! I don’t want to, but I have no choice,” Finn yells in reply. “We can’t take out that ship’s nav system from the air. Give us cover. We gotta keep that fleet there till help arrives… we hope.”

You dodge out of the way of an oncoming blaster charge and your X-wing spins, but through the chaos you manage to hear two more words – not spoken by Finn or Poe or Rose, or even Tyce, but the voice is still familiar. It’s Armitage, and it gives you the boost you need.

“Trust him” is all he says.

Finn looks at him, eyes narrowed ever so slightly, and something passes between the two of them. It’s not admiration, not love, not friendship, but some kind of respect – they’re words Finn never thought he’d hear Armitage say. But Armitage nods at him once, and Finn nods back, and they know they’re both on the same page. This is the time to be brave.

–

When the landers set down on the Steadfast and the Resistance begin their invasion, blasters raised among those fighting and firing towards the Stormtroopers that have covered the top of the destroyer in an act of defiance, you try and look for Armitage among them, but it’s a failed attempt.

You’d thought he would be easy to spot, but there are too many people, too many blaster shots and you can’t get a clear look at anything on the ground, let-alone in the sky around you. Smoke and debris floats around you and dodging it as well as the attacks from the cannons is hard enough.

And you’re too pre-occupied with not being blown up yourself.

Below, on the Steadfast, Armitage fights against those he once trusted. He has to admit, it is rather thrilling to fire blaster shots at Sith Troopers and have them fall at his hands. From when he first did it hours ago with the Stormtroopers to now, he feels like he’s getting the hang of it – and he’s not sure whether to like that or not. He’s doing his part, though, and that has to be worth something.

He’s not very good with his blaster in combat, and he dodges a few blaster shots from the First Order several times. The near misses, he decides not to tell you about. He thinks he will tell you about blasting the Sith Trooper that got a little too close to comfort by Rose.

And you, flying up high in the sky above you. He thought he’d have a chance to at least pause and try and find you, to make sure you were still flying and not destroyed by the First Order, but it’s so fast paced and frantic on the ship that he barely has a chance to breathe.

His attention is forced away from worry as an explosion up above knocks the nav tower offline, and he stumbles backwards from the force of it alongside several other Resistance fighters beside him. One of them turns to him, grins and then whoops rather loudly, and he has to smile back.

They’ve done it.

Armitage holds up a hand to the comlink at his ear. “Did you see that?”

You can hear the excitement in his voice, and you wish you could see it on his face. “I saw that!”

“Nice one, Finn!” Nav signal’s down, but not for long!” Poe yells over the comms.

And then the people around Armitage are turning the other way and running back towards the landers. It’s time to leave now that they’ve done what they came for. In the distance, his eyes fall on Finn and Jannah – they’re stopping, looking at something, and then he watches as they run in the opposite direction.

Something deep within him itches to follow them. To do more than necessary. To help them in whatever they’re running away to do. But he can’t bring himself to follow the feeling. He’s a runner, not a fighter. He’d be more of a hindrance than a help. And he hopes you and the rest of the Resistance can forgive him as he turns and begins the run back to the landers, choosing safety over glory.

Any part of him that truly remained General Hux of the First Order, he leaves behind on the Steadfast as soon as his feet hit the ground of the Resistance lander.

–

It’s exhausting. The constant jump back and forth between feeling like you’re winning and feeling like you’re losing. And just when you think you think everything is going well, when the nav tower is knocked offline, when you start to gain the upper hand, things start to crack and crumble again.

The fighter beside you goes up in flames.

Poe warns Snap about the TIE fighters on his tail. He says he sees them. And then you watch him go down, hurtling to the surface of a destroyer… you’re yelling and you don’t even realise it – another member of the remnants of Black Squadron gone, a friend gone…

You start to wonder if you can even win this at all.

Another fighter close to you is blown up, and you swerve away from it, missing a blaster shot from an oncoming TIE fighter by inches as you do. Your comms are filled with the voices of the other pilots – they’re asking Poe what to do, and you see several other members of your team go down in flames as you hear them.

But what can you add? What can you add to make them feel better?

Nothing.

You’re floating in midair trying to catch your breath when Poe finally tries to find the words. They’re not the ones you wanted to hear. They’re not the ones you need to hear. But he says them anyway. “My friends… I’m sorry… I thought we had a shot… but there’s just too many of them.”

And then… another voice.

“But there are more of us, Poe. There are more of us.”

It’s instinct, how you spin your X-wing around and fly a little higher. You feel like the air is swept entirely from your lungs as you see hundreds of thousands of ships. They came – this time, they came for you.

The exhaust you felt from being whipped back and forward by the winning and the losing is gone entirely at the sight of the ships. Because you know you have this now. Your fleet is bigger, it’s better… and it’s filled with thousands of people from all over the universe who want to see nothing else but Palpatine and the first order taken down.

Poe is clearly invigorated by the realisation “Hit those underbelly canons, every one we knock out is a world saved!”

And you do it. You turn back and hurtle towards the closest ship, your blasters firing at the canons underneath until finally, they explode into a fiery orange burst of hope. You’re laughing as you dodge it and move onto the next one.

You’ve got this.

–

His lander is yet to move from the surface of the Steadfast when everything starts to fall around him, quite literally. His heart is beating fast from the adrenaline and he’s collapsed onto a crate in the corner of the ship in an attempt to catch his breath when he sees something out of the small window on the opposite side.

An A-wing, falling – free falling through the air, but it looks perfectly normal. It’s not on fire, from what he can see, it hasn’t been hit and– then there’s a flicker of something.

Armitage is on his feet in seconds, standing by the window along with several other Resistance fighters who have noticed something is wrong. It looks like… lightning. He’s never seen anything like it before.

He feels like his heart stops as he sees the familiar black and green of your X-wing following the A-wing rather rapidly towards the ground. He steps back, allows the others to crowd around the window, and tries to reach you.

“Do you copy? I repeat, do you copy? What’s going on? Are you all right?”

Armitage glances back at the window, but he can’t see your X-wing anymore. He falls back on the crate, heart racing just as fast as it was before, perhaps even faster, and holds his breath.

He’d thought things were going well.

He should have known better than to assume something good.

–

You definitely do not have this.

The screen of your X-wing starts to flicker. Your controls – you don’t have control anymore. You try and move your X-wing, but nothing is happening.

“Leefive, what’s happening? My systems are failing! I don’t have control!”

She beeps, but you can’t make out what she says. And nothing happens. She doesn’t reboot the systems of fix anything, and you fiddle with the controls inside your X-wing but nothing is working. Your stomach drops as your X-wing falls.

You try again. You’re falling – you’re falling and you have no control.

“Does anyone copy?” You call through the comms. “Armitage, do you copy? I’ve lost control, my systems are failing. I’m going down, I repeat, I am going down! Poe, Finn– Armitage, does anybody copy?”

The screen flickers again, and you suddenly stop falling.

Poe’s voice is in your ear like he never left it.

“This is our last chance, we’ve gotta hit those cannons now!”

You’re confused. You’re more confused than you think you ever have been in your entire life. You feel sick to your stomach from the drop, but your systems are back online as if they were never offline in the first place, and behind you, Leefive is whirring and beeping happily. You take a second to breathe deeply before you launch your final assault.

“Armitage, do you copy?” You’re saying the words before you even really meant to.

It’s instinct.

His reply comes moments later, and you breathe a sigh of relief at the sound of his voice.

“Are you all right? Are your systems working?”

“I’m okay– they’re back now. What about you and the others?”

Armitage looks around the lander. “We hadn’t left the Steadfast when whatever that was happened. It didn’t seem to affect our ship. It just affected you.” He looks out the window again, just in time to see you whizzing past towards the ship. They’ve taken off now, left the Steadfast, and he’s airborne again. “I saw you falling.”

“I know. I know. But I’m good.”

If he says anything in return, you don’t hear it. You’re firing on the cannons, and then– the command ship, the Steadfast, the place you’d been on hours earlier and the place Armitage no longer called his home, starts to fall.

–

Rey joins you in Luke’s old X-wing as you leave Exegol.

You can’t seem to wipe the smile off of your face as you pull your helmet from your head, giving yourself some much needed air. It’s warm in your fighter, and you wipe the sweat from your brow. You hope you never have to see Exegol again.

“We did it,” you breathe. “Leefive, we did it!”

She beeps excitedly behind you, and you grin.

“Hey Finn, Poe– congratulations, Generals.” You follow the Falcon as it speeds off ahead of you and back towards Ajan Kloss. Poe had told you briefly before you left that he’d made the decision to bring Finn on as a co-general. And now, you were certain he’d made the right decision.

Without Finn, who knows what could have happened?

You hear Poe’s laughter as his only reply.

–

Down on the lander, flying beneath you all, Armitage listens in with a small smile on his face. You’d won. The Resistance had won, and he was on the winning side. Long gone were the days where he wished for Kylo’s loss and nobody’s win.

The comlink in his ear fizzes.

“Hey, Armitage. You hearing this?”

“I am very much hearing this.”

“I’ll see you back on Ajan Kloss, right? The same place as before?”

Armitage nods, and then realises you can’t see him. “I’ll be waiting.”

Your face breaks out into a grin. “Not if I get there first.”

He has no chance.

The comms go out again, and he allows himself a moment to think about how it feels to hear your voice again – this time not frantic or rushed from the chaos of the fight. But just calm, relieved. There’s an edge of excitement in your voice and Armitage likes hearing it.

He had his doubts about the Resistance’s win. When you’d said you’d see him back on Ajan Kloss when they won, he’d walked away unsure if he would see you or Ajan Kloss again. But now, as the lander picks up speed and begins the journey back, he knows he will. He knows that Allegiant General Pryde is dead. He knows that the First Order is as good as. He is all that remains. And he is better than what they became.

–

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[virgilmydarkstrangeson]

Yellow-Eyed Beast - Lupus AU

Happy Halloween!!

Summary: The Extermination was chaos, and Virgil had fled without turning back. Now, he was the lone Lupus still alive. At least, he believed he was. Pairing: Deceit / October, Deceit is Damian and October is Toby Trigger Warnings: Mentions of mass murder/extermination of a town, swearing, sympathetic Deceit Word Count: 1,643

~~~

During the Extermination, all was chaos. Damian was roughly woken up by Remy, his older brother, who picked him up as quickly as he could on seeing that Damian was still groggy. Screams were filtering in through Damian’s sleep-fogged mind, and he immediately became scared. What was happening? Where was their dad?

Remy put him down just outside their house, before grabbing his hand and beginning to run. Damian could smell smoke as he struggled to keep up with his brother, figures of all shapes blurring past him. In the distance, for a split second, Damian thought he saw Virgil from school, sprinting off in wolf form, but when he tried to go after him Remy told him to stay by his side or he would get worse than grounded.

It wasn’t until they were far away from the city that Damian saw their dad, pacing and looking more scared than Damian had ever seen him. 

“Boys!” Their dad almost shouted upon seeing them, Damian still in his pyjamas and half-wrapped in a blanket. Damian got swept up in a hug, allowing him enough of a respite to begin to fall back asleep, unable to make out what his dad and Remy were talking about.

When Damian next woke up, he was curled up in what felt like a large bowl, and he opened his eyes to see the side of a basket, barely big enough to hold him. The world beyond was dusty and yellow, completely unlike the forests back home, and he wondered why they had travelled so far. Turning over, he noticed that his dad was in wolf form, carrying the basket he was in, and several other wolves were around them, all carrying various belongings. Everyone seemed so tired, and the sun was hanging low in the sky. Had he slept through the whole day? 

Once the group had settled down for the night, the grown-ups remaining in wolf form to provide warmth for the younger people, Damian broke the silence, staring out into the vast expanse of the world while sat next to Remy.

“What happened? Why aren’t we at home?” Remy sighed, rubbing his eyes before turning to Damian, clearly trying to hold back tears, because he was a cool teenager, at least that was Damian’s guess.

“Our home’s gone, bud, but we’re searching for a new one that won’t be taken away from us.”

“Oh…” A few minutes ticked by, as Damian tried to think of what else to say. He decided to ask “Do you… know what happened to Virgil?”

“Nobody’s seen him, the adults would’ve easily picked him out from a group of animals.” Remy paused, before adding “I’m sure we’ll see him soon though. We’ll meet up with him and his parents when we build our new home.”

That was Damian’s hope, that he kept close to his chest for the rest of the journey to a secluded woodland, and the many years building new houses and market stalls and all manner of attractions to keep the younger Lupi entertained. Even when he was an adult, Damian still held onto that hope, as more of their old clan found them, including one of Virgil’s mothers and his siblings. That day was particularly hard, as none of them had heard anything from Virgil since the Extermination. 

The land had shifted since the chaos of that day. Lupi were extremely ancient beings, having been around long before the first pure humans, and had witnessed the rise and fall of multiple empires and the growth of human civilisations. One such small group was the village of Ferncombe, England. It had sprung up not too far from the new Lupi Clan and had stayed a constant through the hundred of years, to the point that now, several of the adult Lupi had taken up jobs around the village, mingling and gaining friendship with the humans. It was strange, how similar they seemed to be, and how easily the Lupi integrated into human society.

It had been a mistake, really. Damian had been observing the village late one night, pitch-black fur bristling against the slight breeze. The Clan had sworn to never be in Ferncombe once the sun had set unless held up at work, but Damian was curious to what the humans got up to in the dark. It was fascinating, watching lights flash on from everywhere, and humans walking to and from buildings Damian had never seen open during the day. He wanted so badly to join in, revel in the artificial light, that he didn’t even realise he had begun to walk closer to the village until he heard a surprised shout, which snapped him out of his daze.

Standing a few feet in front of him was a group of humans, all looking to be in their early teens, staring at Damian dumbfounded. Immediately, he recognised Toby and Elliott, two people who regularly came into the shop Damian helped out at, and he froze. Oh no, he had just broken the most sacred code among his Clan: to never be seen in wolf form by humans. However, it wasn’t until Toby reached a hand out to touch him that Damian’s reflexes kicked in, causing him to growl before turning and sprinting off into the woods, hoping against hope that he wasn’t being followed.

Damian slowed down once he reached the clearing where most of their buildings had been built, trying to seem calm and not at all freaked out, at least until he heard footsteps behind him and a voice, confident and loud.

“Found you! Now- whoa…” Damian whirled round, instincts now on high alert as Toby stood at the edge of the clearing, and Damian could only imagine what was going through the human’s mind at seeing a woodland settlement filled with huge wolves and people living together. “Holy… Dr Picani!?” Oh great, of course, he had to go and know Damian’s dad, leader of the Clan and the worst possible person to know of Damian’s mistake.

“T-Toby?” Emile asked, walking over and giving Damian a confused yet enraged glance. “Why, whatever are you doing here?”

“I was following this big dog! It is yours?”

“Oh, uh… you could say so, yes.”

“Damn, I was hoping if my dads saw it then they’d let me ke- what the fuck!?” As Damian turned to see what had caused Toby’s outburst and was horrified to see Remy run into the clearing and change into his human form, yellow smoke forming around him as he did, the signature for their bloodline.

“Oh boy…” Emile sighed, “Guess the wolf’s out of the bag? And Toby you should really watch your language, there are kids here and you’re still young yourself.”

It had taken a lot of explaining, but Toby eventually understood who they were, and was in fact extremely on board with the idea, persistently asking if he could get bitten to transform into a werewolf himself, to which Damian, now in human form, would constantly remind him that it was Lupus, not werewolf, *that* word was offensive to their kind. Toby had seemed so alright with their existence that it sparked the beginnings of a co-habitation between Lupi and humans. The Clan slowly revealed themselves, and some even moved into Ferncombe as permanent residents, including Damian. Oh, the internet was a wonderful thing, Damian learned. So much information at your fingertips! 

Another added bonus of living in Ferncombe was, undoubtedly, Toby. Now he was 24 and had only recently touched Damian for the first time, which was evident by the soulmark that had formed on Damian’s wrist. Luckily, they both already liked each other, so weekly dates with Toby were always enjoyable, even more than the internet. 

Oh, the internet. It was a Tuesday when the internet solved Damian’s deepest, longest problem from thousands of years ago.

On this Tuesday, it was warm, and Damian was finishing up his shift at one of the local cafes, he enjoyed being surrounded by coffee and pastries and the good community. He ran a hand through his hair, momentarily revealing the scar over the left half of his face from when they were building the Lupus settlement, before deciding to take a walk through the woods. However, that plan would never take hold, as he heard somebody call his name. 

“Dee!” It was Toby, hurriedly walking down the road to meet him. “Babe I have to show you this video right now,” he was speaking extremely fast, and Damian couldn’t even read the expression on his face.

“What is it? Are you okay?”

“Won’t be until you watch this,” Toby thrust his phone into Damian’s hands, so Damian sighed.

“Okay okay, I’ll watch it.”

The video showed a grey-furred wolf, that appeared to be the height of a larger-than-average person, barreling through the streets of a city before colliding with an inhumanly disfigured creature. The pair brawled, deep growls filling the audio to the point that nobody recording could be heard, and then a purple smoke surrounded the area. A head, a human head, reared out of the smoke, and it looked to be a guy in his 20s, with dark hair and eyes that were glowing red, as well as teeth too long to be human. The guy collapsed, next to another, bleeding person, and the video shut off, showing Damian his own stunned expression. 

“Where… where is this?” were the first words that came to Damian’s mind once he recovered from the initial shock.

“A town in America, don’t know exactly where but I’m sure it’ll be in the news, why? Do you know him?”

“Maybe…”

If Damian’s hunch was right, then Virgil was alive, in America, and severely injured. And now that he knew, he needed to know if there were any other Lupi with him.

~~~

Taglist:

@noahlovescoffee​ @canadian-crofters​ @infinitysgrace​ @alltimevirgilant​ @peanut0303​ @trans-logan-sanders​ @theunoriginaldaisy​ @max-is-tired​ @creativity-killed-thekitten​ @uwillbeefoundtonight​ @flamingfawkes​ @gabe-killed-me-with-ace-cream​

[flyingblackhawk]

Daybreak

Avengers/Clintasha fic

1,291 words

@quietlyimplode <3 

Read Part 1

Read Part 3

-

There is a softness to the light when the morning comes. The grass outside is gold, and the movement of the trees in the breeze is graceful. Tony likes the view of the lake from the kitchen.

The team moves around each other in comfortable silence. The long night is over, and none of them have slept much. Weariness is an old friend to all of them. They wear it like a blanket wrapped around their shoulders, warm and willing them back into the safety and comfort of bed.

“Morning.”

It’s Steve. Tony has made the coffee this time.

“Did you sleep?” Steve asks. Tony shakes his head. “Me neither.” For a moment, Tony thinks that the man is going to walk right past him, but he stops, and Tony tries to clap him on the shoulder. A comforting gesture. Steve reaches out, and Tony finds himself in a hug. It’s not a gesture either of them would expect, but it’s a welcome salve for the night they’ve spent in fear and quiet vigil.

Tony breaks the quick embrace, and slides a mug of coffee over to Steve. A thanks for the night before. Steve takes it, and wanders off to find his own window through which to take in the morning.

“I thought the sun would never rise.”

Wanda is lying in bed. She knows the heartbeat in her ear is synthetic, as is the chest she’s resting her head on, but Vision is surprisingly good to snuggle up to. Especially after the night they’ve had.

“It always does,” he murmurs.

“I wish I could have done more.”

He strokes her hair. He knows her wishes. He knows how she fears she’s somehow caused this, that the touch of her magic on Natasha’s mind somehow brought her closer to the edge. What he doesn’t know is how to convince her that she hasn’t caused this, that she’s not a guilty party here. He doesn’t know what to say, so he just holds her as the gentle light of the morning plays across their pillows.

By the kitchen windows, Sam finds Steve. Sam is quicker to offer a hug than Tony, and there is coffee, and there is a debrief, as always. Sam knows how to talk soldiers through things like this. Sam needs to talk too, so they move somewhere comfortable, with a view of the water, and they just let things out until there aren’t any more words in them, and all they can do is stare out at the beautiful lake beyond the window.

Somewhere in a bedroom, where the light is bathing the walls of an apartment with soft gold, Clint watches Natasha wake. Her red curls splay over the white pillow, and the colour in the sunlight is vibrant and reminds Clint that she is alive. He hasn’t slept. Only watched.

“Hey.”

Her voice is still rough and tired. She has screamed it away, and it won’t come back for a few days.

“Morning,” he whispers. He has no energy remaining. It has been spent on keeping her alive when she could no longer do it herself. She knows this. She reaches out and touches his face. She traces the topography of the lines on his brow, and knows that the worry is for her, that his exhaustion is his reward for loving her. Yet he persists in it, this task, Sisyphean in its very nature. He carries her to the top of the mountain only to watch her tumble all the way down. He turns, follows her down into the dark, and begins the journey all over again. This is forever. He cannot escape. He doesn’t want to.

“Thank you.” Not sorry. He won’t accept an apology. He knows it’s not her fault, that there are demons no one can slay for her. She stopped apologising to him years ago. Now she thanks him for being here still, even after the worst she can throw at him.

“You’re okay,” he tells her. She knows he doesn’t mean the bandages on her wrist, or the tapestry of cuts and bruises that is the rest of her skin. He means that she’s with him, and with him she is always safe, and so very, very loved.

She presses close, and kisses his nose. He closes his eyes, savouring her touch, and she can’t believe anyone could love her like this.

She leaves him when he falls asleep. She’s not locked in now, Clint knows she can be trusted once she’s slept. She leaves his apartment, and it’s only early but she finds Tony in the kitchen, flicking idly through something on a tablet as he sips what she assumes is one of many coffees he’s had through the night. He looks up when she enters.

“You should be resting,” he says, and it’s the absence of snark that bothers her. She knows she scared him, so she doesn’t comment, just reaches out for him. He wraps her in a hug, and then pulls back and kisses her forehead. She moves away, pretending not to notice him ducking his head and fighting back emotion.

Sam and Steve are next, no doubt alerted by a message from Tony. They don’t say anything, just hug her both at once, so she’s surrounded by them. They are so warm, and they smell like coffee and cologne. Natasha lets herself be held, and tries not to feel guilty. She makes tea once they let her go, and it’s only when she’s on her way back to Clint that she runs into Wanda. Vision is hovering behind her, as anxiously as an android can hover.

“Natasha,” Wanda says, the word rushing out of her. She has been crying, Natasha can see, and she looks so young like this. Her face crumples, and Natasha understands why Vision has tried to keep her away from this. With her throat burning, Natasha opens her arms and Wanda thuds into her, clinging to her.

“I’m sorry,” the girl is saying. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry-”

“Shh,” Natasha hushes her. Vision is by her in an instant, and manoeuvres the mug out of Natasha’s hand so she can concentrate on holding Wanda.

“It’s my fault,” Wanda whispers into her shoulder. “I put those things in your head.”

“You didn’t,” Natasha says. She wishes her voice wasn’t so hoarse. She pulls Wanda back so she can look at her. “Those things were already there. This wasn’t you. None of this is because of you.”

Wanda shakes her head, and Natasha pulls her back in. “It’s okay,” she murmurs. “I’m okay.”

This is the price, she realises. This is what she has done to the team. It wasn’t intentional, and she couldn’t think about the consequences in the dark of the night when all she wanted was for her mind to go quiet. Now she sees, in the light, what her actions have wrought. For the first time in a couple of days, Natasha feels a rush of relief that she is alive, and the team does not have to deal with something incomprehensibly terrible.

Vision takes Wanda by the shoulders and steers her away. He returns Natasha’s tea, and she makes her way back to where Clint is sleeping soundly, exhausted by the longest night he’s had in a while.

“I love you,” she murmurs to his unconscious body. “You’re always there to save me.” She hops back into bed, propping herself up on pillows, and sips at her tea while he sleeps. She watches the sun rise into the sky through the window, and lets the warmth of the tea, and the warmth of the bed, and the warmth of the light flood into her. She is alive.

[writingarchangels]

Fallen Brother (Gabriel Monthly Challenge)

Okay... so I saw this blog in my feed, got inspired by one of the prompts, and decided to join this. So here I am.

Characters: Gabriel & kinda-Lucifer

Word count: 1.4K

Story type: angst

Triggers: character dead, depression, guilt, suicide, blood

Prompt: Statement/Ambiance Prompt - The rays of the setting sun splashed around him, coating him in scarlets and crimsons, leaving him unable to escape the visual of blood forever smearing his hands.

What have I done?

The Archangel stumbled backwards numbly, nearly slapping over the still fresh blood coating the floor. Wings shaking and face pale, he lifted up his trembling hands to look at the bright red substance now coating his hands. He had almost hoped that it was perhaps some kind of sick twisted dream, that it would all go away when he blinked his eyes. But it did not. No matter how often he blinked, the blood stayed. He was unable to escape it no matter where or how far he went.

Lip trembling, a choked cry tore out of his throat, rising with each passing second. Not caring who could see him, the angel broke down, clutching against his big brother in the way he used to do back when he was much smaller. Back when things were still simple and they did not had to fight, when there was no reason to fight. His shaking bloodied wings wrapped around them both in a hopeless attempt to keep it together as he cried.

"I'm sorry," Gabriel cried out. "I'm so sorry." He nuzzled his tear-stricken face against his brother's unmoving chest, not caring about the blood that was now smearing his cheeks. "It wasn't supposed to end like this."

He had not expected to win. Lucifer was supposed to kill him; Gabriel wasn't supposed to kill the one who taught him all of his tricks. He's the one who was supposed to die... or at least fake his dead and live the rest of his life with porn starts. He wasn't supposed to win and end up murdering one of the few beings he actually still loved - the one who raised and loved him for the longest time before everything went to shit. Yes, he wanted the Winchester's to get away without being the condoms of his elder brothers, and deep down part of him still cared about Kali, but not at this cost.

"I'm so sorry," he choked again, his voice unrecognizable to even his own ears. His brother's blood was now on his hands and he knew that no matter how often he might attempt to wash them, it would never come off and forever stain both his thoughts and heart. And he knew that he could never move on... they had known each other before even the first stars were born and lit up the ancient night sky, so how could he?

When Gabriel had left Heaven to go to Earth, Lucifer was the last thread he held on to from his previous being, a previous life from eons ago. When he was happy. It kept his mind intact and helped him keep his sanity as he adjusted to a very different life on Earth.

And now he was gone.

And worst of all, by his own hand.

And without his morning star in it, everything seemed much more duller now. The sky lost its once vibrant blue color. The trees and grass was much duller and lost all life. Even his own wings seemed to have lost their celestial light. The only thing that didn't change was the red. The blood was still as vibrant and bright as ever. It almost seemed to glare up at him, mocking and taunting him, tainting his heart beyond repair. Helplessly, he tried to wipe the blood of Lucifer’s chest as if that action would miraculously bring him back to life. But as one would expect, it did not work and he only ended up smearing the blood out even more.

Hands grasping Lucifer’s shirt long after his knuckles turned white and he lost all feeling in his hand, Gabriel stayed by his side the duration of the day and long until the sun disappeared behind the horizon once again and the nights turned cold and bitter - just like he felt from within.

But still, Gabriel stayed watch. And he would stay watch until his body and bones turned cold and his wings started to twitch. He still stayed watch.

~~

It had been months since Lucifer had died. No, it had been months since he had murdered his own brother. And Gabriel still felt as miserable and guilty as ever.

He had tried many things to attempt to move on. It’s what Lucifer would have wanted, he kept on telling himself, yet his own words did not quite went through to him. Gabriel had tried to completely burry himself into booze and woman and games. It did not work. He even tried busying himself with the Trickster business and pagans, but that didn’t work either. He did not particularly felt like facing the Winchester’s or even Castiel, aware that they wouldn’t understand how he felt. So Gabriel believed it would be better that they believed that he and Lucifer simply killed each other. He also knew he couldn’t go back to Heaven - it wasn’t his home anymore, it hadn’t been for a very long time.

And when he couldn’t go back to the only home he ever truly knew, and when even Earth became unable to take his pain away, what was left for him? Where could he possibly go?

Gabriel did not knew the answer.

Being an Archangel, he had been around for a very long time and he had seen the creation of the universe itself. He always found it marvelous, the vastness and beauty it contained. He was reminded of the galaxies; swirling and bright, with a dark black hole in the center of all the chaos. That was how he felt. Like everything just moved on around him, unaware to how he felt, and he was the black hole with a darkness and heaviness within.

A tear slipping out of his eyes, Gabriel harshly wiped it away, winching back when his hands came in contact with his face. He started to shake when he saw the blood on his hands in a flash. He imagined that it was everywhere on his face and in his hair, coppery and sticking to his skin. The Archangel cried, and then the blood was gone, nothing but a figment of his imagination. Curling in on himself on the floor of one of his safe houses he was in, he closed his eyes and shook. Looking through his tears, his eyes fell on the Archangel Blade that was on the floor as well, not too far from where he was laying.

Hand shaking, he reached out to the blood-coated blade. Gabriel had found himself unable to wash it off. He could barely look at the weapon and had instead carelessly thrown it on the floor months ago, refusing to acknowledge its existence altogether. Until now, at least.

Pulling himself up to his knees, he looked down at the weapon in his hold. It felt much heavier than he remembered, as if it carried the weight of all of Lucifer’s existence within. Who knew? Perhaps it did.

Perhaps it was meant to be like this, a tiny voice in the back of his mind spoke.

Gabriel looked up towards the ceiling, as if he could see the cloudy sky through the roof. It appeared almost as if the angel was praying. For what, he was not sure. His father had abandoned them all eons ago and wouldn’t give a shit now. Gabriel knew that He would never listen to any kind of prayer he might send. So he did not pray. Not for anything. He just looked up with a blank accusing look as he turned the blade around in his hold.

He closed his eyes. At least I will see you soon, brother. At least the misery will finally end, were his last thoughts.

And then he swiftly plunged the blade through his own heart. Opening his mouth, he screamed. There was a quick flash of pain and panic, and a flare of a bright light as his grace exploded within his vessel, taking away his very life... and then nothing.

Tag list: @luciferstempest @gabrielsbackbitches @jgvfhl @staycejo1 @blakechaos08 @qslucid

Mod tags: @gabriel-monthly-challenge @archangelgabriellives @archangel-with-a-shotgun @archangelsanonymous @ttttrickster @warlockwriter @revwinchester

IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED AS WELL, JUST ASK!!

[enziroth]

No Future (Part 18)

This is now the longest chapter in the story, almost 500 words more than the previous longest chapter, so buckle up. I’ve been taking a lot longer to get out the most recent updates, but it’s probably because they keep getting longer because the story’s moving faster and faster.

Hope you guys enjoy!

The first cannonball landed far away.

The dust cloud that rose up around where it had landed was tinted pink, and Sanji watched as fragments of candy were flung into the air to fall amongst the other houses. The sound of it hit a half-second later, its impact echoing through the streets right along with the screams that rose in the distance.

They all moved at once.

Sanji kicked open the door to his carriage, diving out and rolling on the grass. Cannonballs that large could only come from battleships, and though the first one had missed them by almost a mile, Sanji knew they’d get closer.

Smoothie was standing, her empty plate tossed aside, towering taller than he’d ever seen her before. She held her arm out in front of her and barked orders into a transponder snail, taking off down the road towards the shore with footsteps that shook the ground as blue-shirted chefs scrambled madly to get out of her way.

Candy sprung from the ground, a massive golden wave crawling upwards to solidify into a hard, shiny wall that shielded the clearing. Perospero shouted at the children on the grass, startling them out of their after-meal drowsiness and leading them in a wild stampede back to the safety of the mansion.

At the edge of the clearing, watching the chefs struggle to load up the carriages and guards pour in from the outer streets to guard the children, Sanji abruptly realized what situation he was in.

Smoothie was nowhere in sight, though he could still hear her pounding footsteps fading in the distance. Perospero wasn’t anywhere to be seen as well, having disappeared inside the mansion with the brats. The chefs he’d arrived with were already racing off back the way they’d came, and the guards were busy watching the skies.

Another cannonball flew through the air, this time landing close enough that Sanji could feel the earth shake beneath his feet. Nobody ordered him to stay put, nobody rushed to his side to defend him. Nobody even so much as looked at him. Smoothie was supposed to be his guard, taking Katakuri’s place as his temporary jailer, but she was long gone now.

There’s nobody watching.

Sanji didn’t waste time. He sidestepped behind the carriage, leaning his back against it and listening intently. No voices called for him; no one seemed to even notice he’d moved.

Heat crackled through his veins, a thrill rising beneath his skin. This might be the chance he was waiting for, the distraction he needed to slip away and return to his crew. He knew the invaders weren’t his friends, just by the sheer knowledge that Usopp and Franky would never use something as boring as cannonballs when they had plants and lasers at their disposal, but they couldn’t have gotten this far into Big Mom’s territory without a sizeable fleet.

With a fleet came ships, and with ships, Sanji finally had a way out of here.

He waited for the piercing screech of another incoming cannonball to distract the guards before he slid out from behind the cover of the wagon, sprinting for the houses on the near side of the clearing. He ducked into the nearest doorframe, once more holding his breath and listening closely.

Nothing but the cries of civilians. He was truly alone.

Hope soared in him, rising so quickly he felt almost lightheaded. In all the hours he’d spent planning for escape, all the nights he’d lain awake thinking of when he should run for it, he’d never even dared dream of an opportunity like this.

In fact, it had been so completely unexpected that Sanji found himself at a loss. In all the scenarios in his head, he’d imagined his crew would be the one invading to save him. His planned first step after getting away from Katakuri was always to run straight to Luffy, and he knew that together they’d be able to handle whatever the Big Mom Pirates threw at them.

But here, there was no Luffy, and as the cannonfire began to truly rain down, Sanji paused to think about his situation.

Even unsupervised, with Katakuri missing and the island under attack, his ‘perfect opportunity’ wasn’t really perfect at all. He’d seen firsthand how fast the Charlottes could mobilize their forces, and unless the invaders were another Yonko’s crew, they’d be slaughtered whenever the heavy hitters arrived. Sanji had watched Smoothie herself heading to the island’s port; at the very least, he risked being recognized and recaptured if he tried to steal a ship.

Even if he did manage to sneak onboard unnoticed, he’d still have to sail with enemy colors all the way through the heart of Big Mom’s territory. He had no doubt that the Charlottes would hunt down every last ship of those who’d been stupid enough to attack them, and if he was caught trying to escape, he knew he’d lose all the freedoms he’d worked so hard to earn over the past months.

The adrenaline that had surged through him moments before curled in on itself, wilting in the face of logic. There in the doorway, listening to the distant booming of cannons and the rallying shouts of soldiers, Sanji was forced to face reality.

He wasn’t going to escape like this.

The safest course of action, the one that would guarantee he kept Katakuri’s trust, would be to go back to Perospero with the kids and pretend he’d been searching for them all along. No doubt he’d be thrown in a cell or something until everything quieted down, but nobody could accuse him of trying to escape. The invasion would be repelled, and life would go back to normal until his crew really did come for him.

But his feet refused to move. After all this time spent under the heavy presence of people who kept him from everything he loved, it went against every nerve in his body to walk away from freedom and back into the glorified cage.

You’re so close! His mind was screaming at him. Nobody’s watching! Run for it! You won’t get another chance!

It’s suicide to try, he argued back, still frozen in the doorway. The odds of success are too low, and the punishment for failure is far too high. I have to go back. The longer I stay away, the more suspicious I look.

But still his feet refused.

An eerie, high-pitched whistling filled the air, and Sanji had the sudden sense that something big was coming right now. His legs finally unfroze in the face of imminent danger, not bothering to look up as he took off running down the alley as fast as he could. He made it past four houses, five, six-

The world exploded in white.

 Sanji stayed low to the ground until the ringing in his ears stopped, blinking away the spotty afterimages of the blast. The sickly-sweet scent of burning sugar hit him a moment later, the rush of air that it came with as hot as a furnace.

He turned to his side to avoid breathing it in, registering the sight of a line of destroyed gingerbread houses burning merrily behind him. He hadn’t made it out of the bomb’s reach, but judging by how he was still in one piece, he’d at least managed to avoid the worst of it.

Flames roared at the end of the street, and Sanji stumbled to his feet, glancing around to regain his bearings. The bomb had landed behind him, right by the kids’ mansion; he wouldn’t be surprised if the place had been blown to pieces.

There goes that plan.

He slipped behind the shattered gumdrop wall of a house, waiting for someone to come running down the street to escape the building. The Charlotte brats were absolute monsters, and it he wouldn’t put it past them to survive something like that, especially considering how tough Perospero could make those candy walls of his.

The kids would probably ignore him if they saw him, but Perospero was the last person Sanji wanted to run into right now. Smoothie had shown herself to be reasonable so far, and Katakuri had proved well enough that he wanted Sanji alive, but there was an air around Perospero that kept Sanji distinctly on-edge. Now that he hadn’t had the chance to blatantly turn himself in, he doubted the man would trust him.

Nobody came. Screaming rose in the distance, more cannonballs booming in the streets to his left, but he couldn’t hear anything that sounded like Perospero or the kids.

Maybe they made it into the mirror realm. There were mirrors all over the place, and there certainly had to be some in the mansion itself.

Thinking of mirrors reminded Sanji of his own situation, and he cast a frantic look around to see if any were nearby. If he could get the attention of whoever was behind them, he might be able to-

Danger, above.

Sanji ducked, just in time to avoid the slash. It cut through the candy-cane building beside him and into the gumdrop one he was hiding behind, hard sugar walls cracking and groaning as they collapsed in on themselves. He kept low, slipping through a crack in the bottom of the wall out into the alley next to it.

People coming this way.

Sanji pressed himself against the wall of the next house over, searching around for a place to hide. The building right behind him had caved in, gingerbread sheets propped up in a way that provided a perfect place to hide, and he was already taking a step towards it when he noticed movement beneath the shelter.

Yellow flashed in the light of the setting sun, and even over the crackling of the fire, Sanji could hear a child’s voice hushing another. He took another step forward and leaned over to get a better look, that particular shade of yellow sparking a vague memory.

It was the girl with the pixie nose and the little flowers in her hair. He recognized her from dinner; she’d been the one to first try the turkey, leading her older siblings back to the table. Crouched down next to her beneath the makeshift shelter was the kid with the spotted hood, and a buck-toothed boy he didn’t recognize.

Kids? What the fuck are they doing here? Sure, the mansion had been smashed to bits, but Perospero had been there. Sanji had figured the guy would want to keep the brats all together. Had they run when the first cannonball had landed, and gotten separated from the rest?

But he had bigger things to worry about now, like the dozen or so men that stepped over the jagged shards of candy-cane and right into the alley he was hiding in. They weren’t wearing the bright pastels of Big Mom soldiers, and judging by the unfamiliar jolly roger tattooed on the biggest one’s blood-stained chest, they weren’t here to be friendly either.

Sanji had sensed them coming, but the sight of the kids had distracted him, and now there was no way to avoid being noticed. He stepped back, swinging to the side just in time to dodge the volley of bullets that came his way.

“Come out here, you little fucker,” the big one snarled, tossing his used pistols aside and drawing two more from a belt around his waist. “I know you’re there. Too scared to face me, pussy?”

None of them looked particularly intimidating, likely just a few lucky grunts that had made it past the chaos at the port, but Sanji wasn’t looking to waste his time on fodder. He had to find a mirror, and he had no interest in being anywhere near the Charlotte brats when their older siblings weren’t around. He’d gotten in enough trouble because of them before; he wasn’t looking forward to dealing with that again.

The men spread out, advancing down towards the alley and sending a few more easily-dodged volleys his way, but Sanji was on the move. He kicked his way through a fallen gingerbread wall, sliding through into the next house too fast for the others to take aim. He looked to the sky, trying to decide if it was worth it to jump and risk the cannonballs so he could get an aerial view.

A girl’s high-pitched screech rent the air, and Sanji instinctively wrenched around towards it. Through the hole he’d busted in the side of the house, he could see the little girl from before on her back on the ground. There were tears in her eyes, and he could hear the low chuckling of the man with the guns above the roar of the flames.

It wasn’t his problem, though.

Pirates like these would only be looking for hostages, something they could use to make sure the stronger fighters didn’t slaughter them on sight. The girl might be panicking now, but the second she got it in her head to fight back, she’d easily crush all of them. For people who’d been brave enough to attack a Yonko’s territory head-on, they were fools to attempt to kidnap Big Mom’s actual children.

Then again, being absolute morons was a pretty good reason to attack a Yonko’s territory as well.

Sanji turned away, his mind moving on to other things, only to wrench right back around when a gunshot and another, more desperate scream echoed in the alley behind him.

The man had bent down now, both pistols cocked as he loomed over the child, one smoking with the remnants of what must’ve been a warning shot. With her back on the ground, the girl didn’t look nearly as fearsome as she had at the dinner table, and from an angle like this she didn’t even seem much bigger than a normal child.

In contrast, the man looked like the devil himself, light from the nearby fires flaring up and casting long shadows on his face. The man’s grin promised the farthest thing from mercy, cruel delight flashing in his eyes. “I knew that fat bitch’s spawn was around here somewhere.”

He raised his pistol, aimed straight at her face, and the kid trembled, crawling backwards as fast as she could. She was so scared, just a little girl inside even for all her size, her hands going up to cover her eyes-

Reiju’s hands, reaching through twisted bars to free him from hell itself-

Sanji launched himself straight through the building in a split-second, pure white-hot rage surging inside of him. His heel whipped out, striking the man’s hand hard enough that he heard bones crunch as the gun went flying.

He turned sideways to dodge the startled half-punch aimed for his head, then kicked out again, this time catching the man in the gut and shooting him clear down the alley to crash into a hard-candy building at the end of the street.

Sanji let his outstretched leg hang in the air for a few moments, waiting for the other men to recognize the defeat of their leader. It took them longer than it should have, more than one dumbly staring at the space Sanji was standing where the other man had been just seconds before.

“Why are you fighting a kid,” he said, planting his foot, spreading his arms and grinning wide, “when I’m right here?”

They went down quickly in a flurry of kicks that none were near fast enough to dodge, and Sanji had just finished a particularly satisfying blow right in the last one’s face when danger rang out in his head.

Above, from the left.

Sanji kicked off the wall, launching himself sideways to avoid the slash that cleaved the wall he’d just been standing next to in half. So that was where the swordsman of the group had gone to; none of the fighters he’d just downed had looked strong enough to cut the candy-cane earlier.

Two more cuts crisscrossed the wall, the structure attached to it crumbling as a man stepped through. Gold earrings glittered in the low light of the flames, and Sanji recognized the same jolly roger skull marked on his chest. When he raised his sword, it was spattered with blood, and also something that looked a lot like buttercream.

Sanji titled his head to the side, hand sliding to his back pocket for his lighter as he sized the man up. This one was stronger than the others, a definite aura coming off him as he sized Sanji up himself, but he was nothing compared to others Sanji had faced before. The slowness with which he’d swung, the ungraceful way he was holding his blade now…Zoro would yell at him for days if he knew Sanji had thought of the guy as an actual swordsman.

The man smiled at him, a wide grin that showed more than a couple teeth missing. “It’s your lucky day. You get to be killed by Galewind Gardy, the fastest blade in the-”

“Look,” Sanji cut him off, waving his hand. “The faster you shut up, the faster I kick your ass. The faster I kick your ass, the faster I can get out of here. How about that?”

The man’s ugly smile dropped into an equally ugly scowl. “Listen here, you little shit, I ain’t got time to-”

What a coincidence. Sanji didn’t have time for this either. “Just swing your shiny stick at me so I can knock your head off, alright?”

The man finally shut up, his eyes narrowing as he settled into a proper fighting stance.

Sanji shifted his weight to his back leg, ready to lunge forward as soon as his enemy moved. The other man was strong enough to use armament haki, but he relied pretty heavily on that sword-

He felt the familiar pressure before he sensed the incoming danger, his feet kicking him backwards before he even realized he’d moved. His opponent lunged forward, weapon outstretched in a deadly thrust, but it never even came close.

A golden blur burst through the pile of rubble next to them, spearing straight through Sanji’s opponent and sinking several feet into the next house over from its sheer momentum.

A black leather-clad leg stepped past the rubble and into the alley.

Katakuri’s massive frame filled the open space and made it seem much smaller than it actually was, his boots planted in the wreckage of two separate houses beneath him as he stood upright. His yellow eyes gleamed in the night, his face a dark shadow too far up for the light of the flames to reach.

The gold gaze moved, weight landing heavy on Sanji as it found him far below. The familiarity of it was almost comforting, though the knowledge the feeling brought was significantly less so. His jailer was back; if he’d ever had the slightest chance to escape, he’d just lost it now.

“Big brother!”

“Big brother Katakuri!”

“Brotheeeer!”

Three voices rose in a wailing cry at the same time, three bodies bursting through the rubble to swarm their older brother. They wrapped their arms around his legs, hugging his boots and clinging tight to him, screeching their relief all the while.

Katakuri’s gaze left Sanji, focusing instead on his younger siblings. He knelt to the ground to reach them, his face finally coming into the light. He seemed no different from how he usually was, that easy calm still there in his expression, the scarf he always wore still neatly in place.

He whispered something to them in a low voice, and in the distance, Sanji recognized Perospero calling out. It seemed like these few weren’t the only ones who’d gotten scattered when the bomb had gone off, and Sanji counted himself lucky that he hadn’t run into any more of the little brats.

After a few more whispered words, the kids left their brother’s side and raced around the burning alley towards the sound of Perospero’s shouting, stopping to sneer at the unconscious pirates who’d threatened them before. The little girl Sanji had protected kicked one of them, the force enough to lift the man several feet up before he crashed back down again.

Watching her toss him around like he was nothing, Sanji wondered why he’d even bothered in the first place.

Katakuri was looking at him now, his trident retrieved and planted points-down into the cracked candy street as he kneeled down to get a closer look at Sanji. The familiar pressure was back on him, washing over his arms and chest and face as Katakuri searched him all over.

Whatever he was looking for, he didn’t seem to find it. His voice was loud when he spoke, clear enough to cut through the crackling of flames and the far-off shouts of soldiers. “When I came to the mansion, it was already under attack. You ran, I suppose.”

“Yeah,” Sanji told him, keeping his own voice carefully even. “Smoothie disappeared. Couldn’t find Perospero. Was looking for a mirror when these guys found me.”

“Smoothie should have stayed with you. I had already been called to deal with the attack.” There was no accusation in his tone, nor any anger. It seemed like the man was more disappointed at his sister’s choice to abandon him than anything else.

“You know, I had it under control,” Sanji told him with a hint of annoyance, even as relief washed through him at how easily Katakuri accepted his explanation. It was true that he could have dealt with the swordsman on his own, though. Even though he was nowhere near his full strength, the guy had been far too weak to really pose a threat to him. His slashes had been slow and his guard had been sloppy, and one good hit would’ve been more than enough to knock him cold.

Katakuri ignored him, gazing down at the bodies on the ground. He pointed at one with the end of his trident, the gunman Sanji had knocked out earlier. A shoe-shaped bruise was just beginning to rise on the man’s bare chest. “This one’s still alive. Who is he?”

Sanji shrugged, reaching into his back pocket for his lighter and a cigarette. It felt like ages since he’d last had one at dinner, but it couldn’t have been more than half an hour ago at the most. “I dunno. Just some random guy, he was pointing a gun at the kid so I-”

Katakuri pulled his trident back, then in one fluid movement, flipped it around and crushed the man’s skull with the end of its blunt handle.

Sanji paused with the lighter halfway to his face, blinking once, then a few more times for good measure. Surely the ash had gotten into his eyes. Surely he’d been mistaken in what he’d seen.

But even as he blinked, the image stayed the same.

Katakuri lifted the trident and it came away with a wet sound, glistening distinctly red. It was too dark to see close to the ground, and the man had been too weak for Sanji to sense an aura from him in the first place, but it didn’t take an observation haki user to know that the guy wasn’t ever getting up again.

Katakuri ground the handle against the hard-candy tiles of the street to wipe off the gore on the bottom, a casual, well-practiced movement. “You fought them, then. You aren’t injured?”

“No. I’m fine.” His words sounded a little flat to his own ears. He knew that the pirates in this part of the seas were known for their cruelty, and he’d even seen firsthand what this particular band of them could do, but somehow it still took him off-guard to see it from Katakuri. There was something disconcerting in the ease with which he’d done it, something that clashed hard with his memory of the man standing in his kitchen and reading out dessert requests from his younger siblings.

The sense of warning he’d felt earlier had settled into a dull ache as he’d been deciding whether or not to escape, but all of a sudden, the feeling rushed back in full force. His mind was going berserk, telling him that something was still very, very wrong.

Sanji kept his head down as Katakuri moved, spearing another downed pirate with a sickening squelch.

Could it be Katakuri himself had set it off again? He was a powerful enemy, and even if he wasn’t attacking Sanji at the moment, it was easy to understand why his presence would put him on edge. Still, this feeling of innate wrongness wasn’t at all like the icy fear he’d felt when he’d gotten out of bed in the middle of the night to find the man standing in his doorway. This was something…deeper.

It couldn’t be the killing itself bothering him, either. Sanji had killed plenty of times before. It was a necessity sometimes, a mercy others, and even on rare occasions an accident. Death was nothing new to him, especially since he’d become well acquainted with it so early in life.

The way Katakuri had done it had certainly bothered him, a simple, quick blow as if dealing death was an offhand matter to him. It hadn’t been in the heat of battle. The man wasn’t a danger to anyone anymore. Katakuri had killed him on the mere mention of a threat to his siblings, a threat that had never really been a true one, but he hadn’t cared about that.

He’d killed because it was the natural thing to do. If anyone endangered his family, they died, and that was the end of it. Sanji wasn’t like that himself, but it was still something he could understand. So why wasn’t the roiling in his gut going away?

He thought I was a threat to his siblings, once. Why didn’t he kill me like that?

Sanji shied away from the thought.

Katakuri looked to the burning horizon, the sounds of cannonfire still ringing as loud as ever. The noises of gunfire and clashing steel were growing ever closer, and though Sanji couldn’t see as far as Katakuri could, it was easy to tell that the battle wasn’t nearly over yet.

It had to be the invaders that were tipping off his internal warning system, not Katakuri. The space around him was a jumbled-up mess in his mind’s eye except for the heavy presence of the man right next to him, but it was reasonable to assume that the other pirates had brought plenty of their own strong fighters with them. More than likely, he’d just picked up on some of them nearby, and that was what had sent all these frantic warning signals flooding his system.

Well, if the battle wasn’t over yet, that meant he had a good opportunity to disperse all that agitated energy in the best way. It felt like it had been ages since he’d sparred with Katakuri, and nothing was quite as satisfying as a good, hard-won fight.

“So,” Sanji exhaled, breathing out smoke and grinning up at Katakuri. “Are we gonna kick some ass, or what?”

 Two minutes later, Sanji faced the still-rippling surface of the mirror Katakuri had shoved him through, fighting and failing to suppress the insulted frown that twisted across his face. He couldn’t help it; that kind of treatment hurt.

“Just for the record, I still fucking hate you,” he told the glass, but Katakuri probably couldn’t hear him.

Alternate ending:

“Oh, it’s fine,” Brulee said from behind him, munching on a slice of something that smelled suspiciously like his coconut mille crepe cake. “He does that to me, too.”

[kdenbibi]

Endless Chapter 4 Damian Wayne x reader (x various)

Summary: What should be a boring outing turns into something else very,very fast.

Warnings: Mature language, light violence, Jon being the sweetheart he is.

Author Note: Thank you for being patient!! I’ve reunited with my laptop so i can finally post :’) also holy shit this is the longest chapter so far wHOOPS- Feedback and or questions are always welcome lovelies 

Tag list: @mirajanestrauss1999

Saturday morning finally rolled around and I wanted nothing more than to sleep in, as it turns out, showing Jon around our obnoxiously large campus took a toll, that and the added stress of everyone and they mama asking me about him like I was his keeper, made me tired in like, seven different ways.

I rolled deeper into my soft covers, ready to drift back into the dreamless state I was in but the universe, of course, had other plans.

And by universe I mean my mother.

Just as sleep grasped at my brain Redbone by Childish Gambino suddenly began blaring from a few rooms over and I rolled over with a sad groan, today was obviously gonna be a cleaning day. This was her subtle way of telling me to wake my ass up and come into the kitchen for breakfast, then directions, if I didn’t get up in the next few minutes she’d make her way upstairs with the speaker blasting as loud as it could and dance her way around my room till I inevitably got up to join her, morning breath and all.

I stretched my limbs, enjoying every crack and pop my body made in response, the sore feeling temporarily making me forget what I was doing.Once my brain caught up to speed with my body I went through the basics of my morning routine, my hair was mushed in a sloppy bun and I didn’t bother switching out of my PJ’s, knowing the majority of the day would be spent inside. I entered the kitchen to quite the sight, my mother swung her body to the rhythmic beat of the song, carelessly singing into her spatula. I contemplated recording her to laugh at later but decided against it, and slid over to her, my fuzzy socks smoothly gliding me across the wooden floor. She finally noticed me, not stopping her performance, she simply shoved her ‘microphone’ in my face, we goofed off for the rest of the song before she remembered the breakfast slowly burning on the stove.I pulled myself up on a random stool and rested my head on the cool marble countertop as she scrambled to save what was left of the eggs.She shuffled her way to her phone, which was responsible for the wonderful tunes floating through our apartment before turning down the volume,“Damn that song, always distracts me.” She snorted plating up the breakfast and sliding it a few inches from my face.“Well, it is a bop, so I can’t blame ya.” I shoveled the food into my mouth, the warmth quickly waking me all the way up. She skipped over to gently kiss my forehead before turning back to her plate. I scooped up the last if my food happy to have had it but sad to see it gone. I washed my dish, slinging my hands around to dry them before I questioned her,“So lemme guess, we’re cleaning today?” She nodded taking a long sip of her coffee.“Ah yes, I’ll be handling that, as for you my wonderful child, you are gonna go run some errands for me.” She spoke not missing a beat. I mentally cursed.'great now I had to put on real people clothes.’ “Can we trade? I don’t wanna put on pants.” I tried to whine but the quick look I got from her quickly shut me down.“You don’t gotta get dressed, walk outta here looking like that. Don’t matter to me, as long as you deposit a check before the bank gets busy, get some groceries, get the cat some food- oh! Also, stop by your job and drop some books off for me.” She listed off not looking up from her phone, straight-faced until she turned to look up.“What?” “Our tasks seem heavily unbalanced.” She stared at me, unfazed, yeesh her glare could make Batman nervous. “Oh I’m sorry did you want to clean the bathroom, living room, kitchen, and vacuum all the carpets- oh wait let’s not forget all the laundry we need to do and-” “Okay okay I get it.” I laughed rising off the stool with a final stretch, before running over and quickly kissing her cheek. She swatted me away cursing at me for nearly knocking her off her seat, I couldn’t help but laugh all the way to my room. I kicked my socks off, the sun shining in through the window warmed the room slightly, I stood in the light enjoying the soft warmth before it occurred to me that- holy shit the sun’s shining. I ran over to my window, to my surprise the gray clouds parted ever so slightly showing just a smidge of bright blue. As childish as it was, this filled me with some kinda fascination, Gotham rarely got sun, I took this as a sign, today would be a good one. I yawned shaking myself out of the daze and walked over to my desk, a bunch of unorganized yet still somehow understandable notes lay sprawled out reminding me of different things to do, however, what caught my eye was the somewhat crumpled business card Bird boy gave me, it sat untouched since I set it down that night.A silly part of me felt guilty for not calling, I mean he straight up pulled an uncle Ben on me, “With great power- blah blah blah.” I muttered flicking the tiny card so it faced downward. I plopped myself on my bed, unplugging my phone from the charger and procrastinated my shower by mindlessly going through the seemingly endless notifications, my eyes found a random message I received a few hours earlier, I checked the it wondering which one of my friends could possibly be up that early, however I didn’t have to wonder long, Jon had sent a simple but adorable 'Good morning’ text. Smiling I thought of the boy, we’d been practically joined at the hip the past week, and I couldn’t find much to complain about, he was a really sweet person, someone who saw the  positive in everything and made Gotham seem brighter- yuck I sound super cheesy but I swear, that’s how you had to describe him.I won’t lie, at first, all that optimism was off-putting, my outlook on life was far from bleak but he managed to find joy in every and anything that crossed our way, even living with the Wayne kid couldn’t bring him down. Realizing I still hadn’t responded, I quickly shot a 'Hello’ back, asking what on earth he was doing up as early as he was, according to him his body was so used to the farm life, it was muscle memory at this point. I paused to imagine him as a farm boy, but the image of him chasing chickens and pigs quickly turned into him leaning against a tractor, sleeves rolled up, sweat collecting at his brow, curly black hair sticking out in every which way. I cleared my throat snapping myself back to reality. 'note to self, try not to thirst over your friends (y/n).’ I jokingly asked if he planned to spend his first free day in Gotham hanging around the storm cloud also known as Damian Wayne and he quickly shot the idea down. “We don’t really talk unless we have to."I furrowed my brows shooting back, "Man that sucks, you think you’d at least be sorta friends with the guy you’re sharing a roof with.” He simply responded.

“ :’) ”

I snorted, gathering my clothes in a bundled heap and finally headed off to the bathroom. 

After a brisk shower, I redressed myself, now much more appropriately than the Superman pajama pants I was previously rocking.I checked my phone once again to see Jon had sent another message.“Would you mind hanging out today? That is if you’re not already sick of me :p .” I tugged my bottom lip between my teeth as I thought of a way to squeeze him into my schedule, before sighing in disappointment.“Get tired of you? Psh not happening, I can’t get enough.” I snorted at my text, he was way to easy to tease.I could see his face changing color in my head, quickly I continued texting as I slipped into my shoes. “But alas, moms is making me do errands all day ;( .” I shoved my phone into my jacket pocket, securely tying the laces of my sneakers, surprised when my phone suddenly buzzed again.“I wouldn’t mind coming along! As long as I didn’t get in your way that is.” I couldn’t help but smile at his words,“It’s just boring stuff though.” “Oh come on, nothing’s boring with you."I couldn’t fight the small smile from taking over my face.He said stuff like that all the time- it always threw me for a loop, I mean the kid would freeze on sight if you complimented him but damn could he say some smooth shit- and the worst part was he wasn’t even trying to flirt! He was just a sweetheart. I brushed off what others might have seen as flirting because he was so genuine to everyone. I contemplated his offer, it wouldn’t do any harm to have the extra company, plus he seemed to want to get away from the Wayne kid, and I couldn’t really blame him for that.So I sent him my street address and my apartment number telling him to come whenever so we could head out, and yes I’ll be the first to admit I should probably have been more careful, after all, I had just met him and he could very easily be a serial killer but if you knew him in person, even just for five minutes you’d see the kid didn’t have a malicious bone in his body. I spent the time waiting for his arrival grabbing the books my mom needed to be returned and the check she needed deposited, before I knew it there was a knock at the door, I jumped up eager to get out the apartment before my mom could see Jon, knowing her she’d interrogate the hell out of him, and I didn’t wanna scare the kid off, at least not this early into the friendship. I made it just in time to see her open the door, his bright blue eyes widened in surprise before instantly sticking out his hand."Morning, ma'am! My name’s Jon Kent, I’m a friend of your daughters.” She shook his hand before looking back at me, a knowing smirk on her face. Much to my dismay she opened the door wider and welcomed him inside. “(Y/n) you weren’t planning on ditching your chores for some cute boy now were you?” “Ma.,” I warned grabbing my keys and then Jon’s arm. “He’s actually here to help me out, this is my mom Jon, Jon this is my mother, okay? Okay. Bye.” She grabbed my collar before I could run, dragging Jon back along with me. “What’s the rush? I wanna meet your new friend.” He smiled, nervously shoving his hands in his pockets.“ I hope you don’t mind, your daughters been helping me out since I moved here, figured it was high time I repaid her.” My mother’s eyes raked over his tall form, examining him like he was under a microscope. See she had this way about her, she could read people in an instant, tell if their intentions were pure or not, I couldn’t help but hold my breath as I  waited for her response.

And just like that, she leaned back against the countertop, her defensive posture melted into a relaxed one. “Well that’s awful kind of you young man, you kids have fun- be back before sunset I don’t wanna worry."He nodded, still smiling "Yes ma'am.” He turned to me and grabbed the heavy book bag from my hands with a wink. I went to follow him to the door only to be stopped once again,“When were you planning on telling me about him?” “Uh I don’t know mom, I didn’t think it was important for you to meet all my friends.” She smoothed her hands over my jacket. She looked up, a warm look on her face.“ You sure you’re just friends?” I playfully rolled my eyes, leaning over to kiss her cheek.“Yes, Ma.” She sighed looking out the door.“ Shame, you two would have made some cute grandbabies.” I groaned, “MOM YA NASTY- you’re so lucky he didn’t hear that.” I gave her a reluctant kiss on the cheek, practically running out the door, her loud laugh rang out in the hallway where Jon patiently stood against the wall, his face astoundingly red for some reason.“Sorry about that- she’s kinda protective.” He shrugged, his face still bright as a set of Christmas lights. “It’s no problem at all, my mom’s the same way.”

With that, we were on our way.

We passed the walk to the bank with random conversations he was in the middle of telling me a wild story about his short time living with one of Gotham’s most elite. “The first night I got there I was convinced he was some sort of robot who’s only emotional setting was irritable.” I laughed, embarrassingly loud might I add, but I couldn’t find it in me to care.“Wait- what? Can I have some context on that one?” He laughed, running a hand through his locks before continuing.     “Well I grew up in a family that always shared, we talk it out if we have a problem but this guy-” He huffed, gesturing wildly with his hands.“- He acts like he hates my guts but when I try to find out why, he gets even more upset!” I gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “Don’t feel bad, that’s just who he is.” His face fell so I quickly added on,“Well don’t give up- he’s most likely never had someone like you around so it’s probably new, knowing your ass, you’ll get him to warm up in no time. "His eyes looked up, hopeful."You really think so?” “Well duh, who could resist you?” I pinched at his cheeks like my grandma would to me, he pried my hands off with an embarrassed huff, at this point I could see the shiny outer walls of the bank, now only a few blocks away. We walked in a comfortable silence for a while when out of nowhere a question popped up in my mind.“Hey can I ask you a kinda personal question.” He glanced over with a small smile. “Go for it.” “Where exactly are your parents, did they move down with you?” He sighed, a somber smile graced his features. “Nah, they’re back in Metropolis, they knew I had a better chance to- um learn out here.” I nodded. “Do you miss Metropolis?” He sighed, looking around the somewhat crowded streets, before looking back to me.“Yes and no, I’ve always been curious about Gotham, I mean it does make the news every year.” We both laughed before he continued.“There’s actually a lot of similarities between the cities.”“Oh yeah like what?” “So far the people are the most alike.” I glanced at him puzzled,“Really?"He nodded,"They’re both just really strong people, from what I can tell so far at least.” I smiled at this, and soon we were in line at the city bank, waiting patiently for our turn. I took the time to study the elderly couple waiting in front of us, their hands interlocked the entire time, I had the urge to tell them just how cute they were being, so I tapped the woman on the shoulder.“I’m sorry to bother you guys but I just had to say, you two are the most adorable couple.” The woman smiled warmly at me, her eyes were as young as could be when she glanced at the man next to her. “That’s so sweet of you to say, thank you. I’m Gloria, this is my husband Modesto.” He waved to us, an equally bright smile on his face. “Well I must say, you two are quite the pair as well, it’s nice to see such bright people together.” I smiled, looking at the beet-faced Jon, I was about to question the sudden change in color when I realized what the older woman meant.“Oh no-we’re just friends, but still thank you!” She leaned into her husband, who held her gently, “That’s how it starts isn’t it dear?” He laughed, grabbing her hands, bringing them to his lips. “I chased her for years, too chicken to say anythin’ thankfully my Gloria here is a smart one, she made the move for me.” I grinned at the couple, now lost in their own world, before turning back to my companion. “Thanks again for coming with me- you didn’t have to but you made this day something fun.” He playfully bumped my shoulder.“What are friends for if not the exact reason for making mundane stuff interesting?” “That’s a very good point-” my response was interrupted, a sound like thunder came from the entrance, the glass doors shattered into thousands of little pieces, people ducked and dived, trying their best to hide behind the kiosks and tables scattered around the place. Faster than I could register I was behind Jon, he stood tall, facing the five armed thugs responsible for all the destruction in the air.One of the men casually lifted his shotgun in the high above him before firing into the ceiling. The panicked screaming and collective confusion came to an abrupt halt. “Alright ladies and gents, we all know how this is gonna go, if you’d like to keep the contents of your head inside of your body, toss any and all valuables in the sack my colleague is so kindly passing around.” With sniffles and whimpers the people complied, tossing their things in with shaky hands, the masked man got to me and Jon, I glared tossing my phone and grocery money in with the coldest stare I could muster.

Jon’s POV

When I first heard the shot tear through the glass door my immediate response was to grab (y/n) and toss her behind me, I didn’t have time to think about it, I was trying my best to calm the frantically beating organ in my chest, I kept my eyes on the people, praying none of them made any sort of move to be a hero, that never ended well. I knew I could take a few of them down but 1. That would give me up to the public and 2. I was easily outnumbered. Too many things could go wrong with an outright attack, so I held back and waited for a plan to form in my head. One that didn’t get anyone hurt, and my identity exposed. 'seriously Jon? Are you worried about keeping up your secret identity? People’s lives are at stake, it doesn’t matter if you get in trouble later if you can save them now.’ I gave my thoughts a small nod of understanding, while at the same time trying to hype myself up for whatever stupid thing I was about to do, sure my dad was the man of Steel but that’s only half of who I was- my powers were unpredictable at best and some days they just didn’t work.I had the hardest time flying but that was also when I was my fastest if I could get it to work, I had a chance to take all their weapons giving the civilians a chance to escape. I took a deep breath when the man stealing from everyone got to us, (Y/n) hastily tossed her belongings in, I threw my phone, but the guy saw the book bag slung over my shoulder. “We said all of it, toss it in kid.” I couldn’t help the scoff that left my mouth.“They’re books, see for yourself.” I tossed the bag on the floor and the guy curiously rummaged through it, while he was distracted I tried my hardest to make myself fly, but there was nothing. No tingle, no feeling of weightlessness, just nothing. I felt sweat start to gather on my brow, the previously kneeling man in front of me barked out a laugh.“Don’t shit yourself kid- you can keep your stupid books.” A cold wave of fear rolled over me as he walked away, if my powers weren’t working this entire situation just got a lot more dangerous. The guy who looked to be calling the shots scratched his head in thought before realizing something with a snap of his fingers.“Oh right, get one of those shit heads to open the safe in the back-” he gestured to the shaking tellers behind their desks with his gun.“ - and if they try to cause any trouble we start shooting hostages.” Whispers of fear rang through the crowd, the tellers all looked at each other in panic, but made no move to listen to his request.He sighed, rubbing his face through the cliche ski mask, eyes scanning over the crowd before  landing on the sweet woman from before, tearing her from her husband’s grip, she winced when he pressed the weapon into her face, I cringed at the loud sound of it cocking. “Now.” He seethed through gritted teeth, like a bat out of hell one of the tellers sprinted out from the safety behind their desk and unlocked the door to the back room.The leader, all the while still painfully holding onto the woman, casually whistled, slowly walking around the mass of shivering people, he chuckled at the terror he was causing. Minutes passed with no other action, clearly bothering the masked psycho.He grumbled before forcing the elderly woman to her knees, “If you don’t hurry up your stores gonna get a new paint job!” He yelled towards the room where the teller and his man disappeared into.The crowd gasped in horror, Modesto reached out to his wife only to be roughly kicked away by one of the other criminals. Gloria sobbed at the sight of her beloved in pain. It made me see red. But I knew if I jumped on the roach-like jerk I wanted too, it would only make things worse. Never in my life had I felt more useless, Especially when (y/n) started to talk drawing his attention to her.

(Y/n) POV.

The light had been frantically shifting this entire time, one second it was around the leaders gun the next it was around his throat, it bounced around from person to person, object to object, like it was looking for the best possible way out if the situation like it was running every possible scenario. I groaned in frustration, the ping pong actions of the light were beginning to give me a headache, I shifted on my knees trying to look around the room and locate every one of the bastards, I can’t remember when they made us get down on the floor but from the soreness in my knees, it felt like time was passing by in slow motion. It was only when the leader grabbed a random hostage tearing her from her husband- no it wasn’t some random person it was Gloria, the kind woman who sure as hell didn’t deserve what was happening to her.“Hey, asshole.” I didn’t recognize my own voice, there was confidence in the words I spoke that sure as fuck didn’t belong in the situation I was smack dab in the middle of. He turned away from the crying civilians, tossing Gloria off to one of the other men, before stomping over, he leaned down close enough for me to see the green of his eyes.“You called darling’.” I ignored the dark rasp of his voice and the chills it sent up my spine and put on a brave face. “You’re about to make off with a shit ton of cash right?” “That I am doll face.” I could hear his grin in his voice, I cringed at him before continuing.“Well if you know you’re gonna get away with it just leave - if you kill her, or anyone else for that matter, your chances of escape go down by 90%."He leaned back, the fake shock in his eyes was obvious."Oh, and how would you know that sweetheart?” He laughed out, a ring of chuckles followed from his men. “Because I’m not an idiot. If the cops aren’t on their way already they sure as shit will be if any more gunshots ring out- you also have to account for the fact that the place you’re robbing is in the middle of downtown Gotham and people are bound to notice the bank getting held up by some hacks in dollar store ski masks.” He looked down at me with a sneer, his laughter ceasing instantaneously. He looked to his men, all equally dumbfounded before motioning for them to return Gloria to the floor. I sighed in relief before I was yanked up harshly by my arm.The man said nothing as he dragged me away, my eyes briefly met Jon’s wide ones. The man tugging me by my arm spun me around to face him, he raised his gun to my head, pressing the cold barrel into my skin. “Let this be a lesson- being a smart ass  can get you killed.” The light worked faster than my brain could register, I listened to my instincts and squeezed my eyes tight, Feeling that all too familiar heat building in my body again. This time though, it was instant. Even with my eyes tightly clamped together, I could see the bright, unforgiving light that suddenly flashed from- well somewhere on my body. My brain was working much faster than usual, the screams of the confused hostages and even the armed assailants, fell behind like background noise, I opened my eyes to see them all stumbling around, blinking in confusion, the man who was about to introduce my face to a bullet now laid on the floor, he screamed the loudest. “My eyes- I can’t see! Fucking bitch what did you do?!"I took the chance to kick his gun from the spot it landed, but before I could move my foot it shot in the opposite direction of him without me ever actually making contact, the blur of light that trailed behind the object gave me a pretty good idea of what happened. I acted quickly, while the light felt like cooperating with me, I focused on the rest of the guns, yanking them behind me, the light enveloped two of the goons heads before bringing them together with a resounding crack. One of the men stumbled in my direction, it scared me shitless, but no sooner had the fear registered in my head did he go flying into the remaining man, knocking them both out the window the haze faded away, I could hear the confused groans of the people behind me as their sight slowly returned, I breathed a sigh of relief, turning to see Jon, staring directly at me, a look of shock on his usually grinning face. For one reason or another, he could see me. Shit. "D-Did you see that?"He said nothing, mouth still agape, but he nodded nonetheless."All of it?” I asked wincing at the obvious answer.He nodded again, clearing his throat before hesitantly rising. “No it- don’t worry it’s okay.” I shakily exhaled, the adrenaline of whatever it is that just happened making me buzz. I felt my breath get shallow, the reality of it all was quickly leading me down the path of a panic attack.“I- I don’t know what’s happening that’s never- that doesn’t…” I struggled to voice all the crazy shit running through my head, Jon took a few steps towards me, gently placing his hands on my shoulders, “Hey- look we’re all okay, everything’s okay you just need to breathe.” I nodded taking choppy breaths. Jon met my eyes, a kind smile on his face, he opened his mouth to say something but the calm atmosphere was very short lived. “What the fuck happened here?” The man who took the teller in the back had returned, he looked at his fallen comrades trying to piece together what had happened before his eyes found the only people standing, He shot his gun with a sneer I tried to shove Jon from the direction of the bullet but I was surprised, too slow, he faced the gun man, the bullet bouncing off him like it was made of rubber, I was just as shocked as the man he was marching toward, with a swift punch to the chest, the guy hit the wall in pack of him leaving a rather noticable dent. I almost felt bad.

Almost.

Jon turned to me, huffing, the strange look of anger on his face melted away leaving shock, fear, and something else I couldn’t register.I opened my mouth, but all the questions in my mind refused to make their way out.I turned away without a word, and walked out the remains of the front door, I heard his loud footsteps crunch against the glass as he ran after my fastly pacing form. “(Y/n) wait-” “Nope.” I replied in a shaky voice, not daring to look back. “Listen to me we need to go back- just wait for a second!” He grabbed my arm, halting me in my tracks, the recoil was so hard I hit his chest.“I’m not going back there.” He stared at me, eyebrows furrowed in concern. “We have too, we need to give our statements to the police-” I ripped my way from his grip. “I am not talking to the damn cops.” He stared at me in disbelief,“We have too! It’s what’s right."It was my turn to stare at him like he was crazy."If I tell them what happened they’ll lock me up in some science lab for the rest of my life- in case you missed it GCPD hate anything to do with superheroes, no way- it’s not happening.” He ran a tired hand through his hair, staring at me with pleading eyes.“I wouldn’t let that happen to you.” I scoffed shoving my hands in my pockets,“There are some things even you can’t do Kent, and in case you missed it, they’ll drag your bulletproof ass in too-” I rolled my eyes turning away.“-Stay and talk if you want, but I wasn’t here.” I continued on my path trying not to jump at the sirens sounding behind me. I made it home, my mom greeted me with a smile before running to me at the sight of my puffy face, as soon as I got to my floor I let the tears fall unapologetically, the stress of it all weighed heavy on my shoulders as I trudged in the door.She let me cry into her chest for a while before I calmed down enough t explain what happened.“I just- I got so scared I totally freaked. I’m sorry about the errands.” I laughed lightly, sniffling at the end.She chuckled warmly, wiping at my eyes, her gaze was sad, loving but sad. “Baby I couldn’t give more of a damn about the groceries- you’re the one I’m concerned about, are you okay?"I shrugged, rubbing my puffed up eyes."I don’t know….I’ve never- that’s the strongest my powers have been, it was like I was on autopilot- what if I hurt the wrong people?” I quickly began to choke up again.She shushed me, grabbing my hands in her warm ones.“You don’t have a mean cell in your body baby, you couldn’t hurt innocent people if you had too."I said nothing, leaning into her, I wrapped my arms around her midsection, taking comfort in how little I felt.Her hand found my hair, softly petting my head as she told me hilarious stories of my older siblings and their problems growing up. "Everyone goes through their own struggles in life, some people let these challenges beat them down, consume them. Those are the people who try to face them alone, the people who fail. What a lot of the world fails to see is the beauty of life, we’re faced with hardships yes but the blessing is we don’t have to be alone with it all. "I raised my body into a sitting position, wiping my face on the sleeves of my sweater. "What are you saying?” She sighed, eyeing me thoughtfully before tucking a loose curl behind her ear. “I’m saying, you should take those nice people up on their offer.” I stared at her confused before it hit me like a train.The card.Robin, Nightwing. “Wait how did you-” “You should know by now nothing slips past me, Especially when my baby’s involved.” I looked at her, then down at my hands, the buzzing feeling from earlier had died down tremendously, but it never fully disappeared, something happened today, it changed something inside me. That much I could feel. I sighed nodding at the older woman, she leaned over to give my forehead a sloppy kiss, making me smile uncontrollably. “I trust you to make the right decision, for you.” And with that, she left my room. I sat there for a minute taking the time to unwind, I flopped back on my bed, my eyes trailing the window before glancing at the night sky, as I played with the hem of my sweater, the thought occurred to me, the first blue sky Gotham had seen in ages and I missed it. I smiled slightly, I preferred the gray anyway. Sooner than I thought I found myself on my roof, a plethora of snacks, the thickest blanket I owned and the damned little card that had kept me up at night thinking more times than I was comfortable admitting. I dragged myself to the loveseat, the fabric was cold to the touch as I carelessly plopped my body down, I made myself a nest in my blanket and popped a few Skittles in my mouth, I glanced up towards the surprisingly clear sky, usually you’d be lucky to get a glimpse of the stars but tonight they were on full display. I let the mostly silent universe calm my mind down enough to pick up my phone when it hit me that I no longer had a phone, I forgot to grab it before I stormed off from the bank.I tossed the candy wrapper on the table next to the chair, a new wave of distress washing over me. “Well shit.” I chewed at my thumb if the cops found my phone they’d be able to trace me to the scene- assuming Jon didn’t tell them I was there.I groaned wrapping myself further in my makeshift cocoon. A light knock from the other side of the roof brought me from my troubled thoughts. I ignored it, thinking it was just my imagination when I heard it again.I rose quietly, taking my blanket with me, I crossed the distance more curious than anything. I looked around waiting for the noise again. “Uhm… Hello?” “Hey.” A familiar voice called out making me jump back in surprise. “Jon??” I whipped my head around looking for the source of the voice.“Wait you can turn invisible too??” He suddenly floated up from the edge of the wall, I stared mouth agape as he landed, slightly ungraceful.“Unfortunately no, but I can fly! Well sometimes anyway.” I nodded, finally managing to close my mouth.“Not that this isn’t a really rad uh- surprise? But what are you doing here?"He kicked the pebbles around his feet, shuffling around like a lost puppy. "Well I know you’re probably mad at me but I wanted to return this as soon as possible.” He pulled my phone out of his pocket, hands slightly shaking.“S-Sorry it got cracked a little in the bag.” “No problem- thanks, really.” We stood there in a silence, not totally uncomfortable but definitely uneasy. But of course, in true 90’s sitcom fashion we both spoke out at the same time. “So about earlier-” “We should talk-” We laughed, he motioned for me to continue so I did with a deep breath.“I wanted to say sorry- for how I reacted. I know it was really immature and I guess I didn’t really give you the explanation you deserved.” His eyebrows shot up, he instantly came closer.“Oh my god no-I came here to apologize! I shouldn’t have pushed you to do something you were clearly uncomfortable with.” I sighed tightening the blanket around me.“Well for the sake of not arguing let’s agree to disagree.” He nodded, his trademark smile finally back on his face where it belonged. I could tell there was a lot more to say, so I motioned for him to follow me to my seat. I sat down, squishing myself against one side of the chair and patted the space next to me.He shrugged, plopping down with a grin. I offered him some of my blanket but he declined.“I don’t really get cold, thank you though. "We stared up, letting things settle down before either of us dared to break the comfortable silence. "I didn’t tell them.” He started not looking away from the stars. “Hm?” “The police, I told them some random hero burst in and out before I could register.” I turned away from the candy I’d been guzzling down, the shock evident on my face.“Jon you didn’t have to lie for me.” He shrugged finally looking down. “What are friends for if not to lie for you?” I laughed lightly at his call back before leaning back into the chair. “That’s a very good point.”

We sat there for what felt like hours, he told me a little bit about his powers, promising to explain everything when he could, before I remembered my reason for coming up here in the first place.I took the card out of my pocket catching Jon’s attention.

“What’s that?”

“Oh yeah, I totally forgot to tell you- a while ago Robin came up here and hassled me to tell him about my powers.” Jon seemingly choked on the soda he was in the middle of drinking. I stared at him slightly concerned before he waved me off, gesturing me to continue.

“Well anyway, before he could impale me with his stupid little knife things, in swoops this gorgeous spandex-clad man in blue and black- ever heard of Nightwing?” Jon nodded, shakily looking back and forth between the soda can and my face. I ignored his weird behavior with a shrug. “Anywho, he gave me this and told me to call him when I was ready.”

“Well, are you?” I looked at the dingy card, then at my wide-eyed friend.

I punched the numbers in before I could talk myself away from it.

“Guess we’ll find out.”

[imagine-loki]

Bruna

TITLE: Bruna CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Ch 1 of 5- In Which the Customer is not Always Right AUTHOR: staria ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine working in a coffee shop and having Loki as a regular customer. You screwed up his order the first time you ever prepared a coffee for him a few months ago so he really dislikes you but as time passes by he starts talking more to you and doesn’t seem to hold that big of a grudge anymore.

RATING: Teen?

NOTES/WARNINGS: There’s some mildly strong language like f bombs and such. This is a quick doodle of what Bruna looks like.

——–

I was in a hurry and needed everyone to get fuck out of my way. The morning was cool, the sun slowly rising  as I was quickly walking- no, running- to Midnight Cafe, a small coffee shop where I was currently one of the baristas. My phone alarm had failed to go off because I forgot to charge it, so of course I woke up an hour late in a frenzy with barely any time left to brush my teeth, put on the first thing I found on the floor and bolt out the door.

As I sped running down the street I double-checked what had I put on this morning: black leggings, a sleeveless oversized olive colored shirt over my black sports bra, and red keds… could be worse. I braided my waist-length teal colored hair on the way to work.

Not that I was proud or anything, but I was so used to doing this that I could do it in my sleep.  

I barely made it on time, but glad that I was not late for the third time this week. If I had to listen to my manager, Brad, say one more time that the early bird catches the worm, I was gonna have to bitch slap him around.

I put on my apron as I punched in my arrival time and immediately went to my work area so I could read the screen with all the orders and quickly start dispatching beverages.

My first order of the day was a cappuccino, a latte, and a frozen hot chocolate, so I began getting the cappuccino and latte ready while my best friend and coworker, Jessica, finished the frozen hot chocolate. She glanced at me and gave me a huge grin and I waved back at her, no need for words. That was my Jessica, always happy, always positive.

I really loved being a barista, it’s all about getting the orders ready as fast as possible during rush time, especially during the mornings. As a chronic over thinker this gives me a break to just be in the moment without analyzing every little detail around me.

It also gives me a break from hearing people’s thoughts here and there. Yup, I’m one of those. But nothing too bad, I just hear tidbits of people’s thoughts here and there. I swear, I’m the worst telepath ever, I have no control whatsoever over this thing. It took me the longest time to figure out that I was a telepath and not just hearing voices in my head.

Once rush began dying down and people began heading to their respective jobs, I decided to go to the back and get myself something to drink because I was totally parched. I got some cold water while secretly wishing it was something stronger like vodka.

As soon as I get back there’s a few orders waiting so I start to work on a coffee for a non-regular. It’s a double shot espresso with two shots of cream and spice caramel for Lucky. I chuckled to myself as I was getting the drink ready because some people have the silliest nicknames ever, I’ve seen worse but this one was still kinda dumb.

After the espresso machine finished brewing the coffee shots, I poured the coffee  in a bone white cup, I added two shots of cream and a few pumps of spice caramel syrup. I cleaned the side of the mug and got ready to hand it to the customer.  “Lucky!” I  yelled, “Order for Lucky!” while putting the drink on the pick-up counter area for the customer.

I was already adding whipped cream to a coffee when I clearly hear in my head a guy thinking about how stupid I must be to screw up his drink. The thing is I just make whatever it says on the order screen, not my fault that Amy, our new employee,  screwed up an order again for like the fifth time this week. Now I’m was gonna have to fix her fuck up. Awesome.

I was super mad but I slowly turned around, ready for whatever bullshit this guy was going to say to me. I see a guy glaring at me like I just insulted his mother. He was actually kinda hot in a goth kind of way. Tall and lean with bright green eyes, black hair, and pale skin plus tall all dressed up in a black three piece suit. He would have been my type, all dark and handsome, but I could tell he was an asshole which was an automatic turn off for me.

He just stared at me without saying a word and I wanted him to get the fuck out of my way as soon as possible so I talked to him in my sugary customer service voice.

“I’m sorry sir, is there anything I can help you with?” I said, I following the question with a super practiced innocent smile.

He sneered at me, and drily answered, “First off, my name is Loki, not Lucky.”

There was a dramatic pause before he gave me a very menacing smile and continued, “This drink is completely wrong. I was very specific when I said that I didn’t want any of those nasty syrups like spice caramel or whatever they are called.”  

The jerk then slammed the cup down making it splash coffee all over me.

“But here I am, drinking pure sugar.”

I grabbed a towel and began cleaning my apron as he continued, “I want a new drink before you give anyone else their drink.”

I wanted to throw the freaking coffee cup with the scalding liquid at him, but I really needed this job so I took a deep breath and settled with imagining different way to tell him to fuck off.

I threw the mug in the sink before quickly remaking the order without the spice caramel and handed it to him. He glared at me before leaving without even saying thank you at all. What an ass.

After he left I was just glad to be done with the idiot and got on with my day. I thought I would probably never see him again.

But of course I was wrong.

The next day at work I was busily making a latte and had completely forgotten about the jerk from the day before when I saw him come in the coffee shop. So much for not seeing him ever again.

Luckily for me, Jessica was the one that got to prepare his coffee. I get a tidbit of Jessica’s thoughts, she’s way too excited about being the chosen one to get the jerk’s order. He was hot alright, but again, an asshole.

He decided to stand right next to my prep station on the other side of the counter to wait for his coffee. I swear he went out of his way to stand there just to coldly stare at me, judging, waiting for me to acknowledge him. I tried to concentrate, willing myself to not listen to his thoughts but I heard loud and clear that he still thought I was the worst barista ever.

He was pissing me off so much that I accidentally dropped a hot coffee drink and got it all over myself. Make that two days in a row that I get a drink all over me thanks to him. When I turned around to grab a towel I couldn’t help but look in his direction only to realize he was giving me a smug look.

He used the moment to say, “It looks like you need to be more careful with those,” while pointing to the cup in my hand, “or you might get hot liquid all over yourself.”

Once more he made me want to throw a mug at him but Jessica gave me a stern look as she was handing him his drink. Sometimes I feel like she’s the telepath.

As soon as she showed up he completely ignored me and directed all of  his attention to Jessica. He thanked her while slowly nodding his head at her like she was fucking royalty.

He then tasted his coffee and dramatically sighed before saying, “Mmmm. Now this is how I like my coffee. Thank you for a perfect cup.”

He then glared at me before he walked to a table where he sat down. The asshole was really getting on my nerves.

When I turned to Jessica ready to start my rant I noticed that she was smiling like Loki had just asked for her maiden hand. I was so furious that I said to her, “Oh my God, Jessica, really? He compliments your coffee once and you get your fucking panties all wet? Jesus, I thought you had better taste.”

Her cheeks got all red but she quickly fired back by saying, “Ugh, Bruna, don’t be jealous. He said he liked the drink, nothing else. You can make Mr Dreamy Eyes his drink tomorrow if it’s that important for you.”

I sarcastically laughed before saying, “Fuck no! You can make him his coffee everyday for all I care! He’s such an asshole.”

As I said this I glanced where Loki was sitting only to realize he saw me looking at him. I tried to smile but he just scoffed at me before getting back to his book. He was too far away from to hear us but I felt like he knew we were talking about him.  

“Jessica, I swear, he’s the biggest asshole ever” I said, as I stopped working on the Flat White I was preparing, “Look at him all smug in that corner. Didn’t you see the evil look he just gave me?”

Jessica stopped pouring chocolate syrup to a drink, and said as she rolled her eyes, “Oh my God, really? He’s so not staring at you.”

She glanced in his direction, looked back at me, and continued,  “Are you going to obsess over him like you did with the woman that liked the plain untoasted bagels? Because that whole thing was not fun. There’s only so many rants that I can tolerate from you on the proper way to eat a bagel.”

“No! I was not obsessed! I just… really disliked her. She yelled at me once,” I said, then I  whispered, “She was a total bitch.”

Jessica guffawed and was about to say something else when Brad kindly yelled at us from the cash register area to remind us that socialization should happen after work. Someone was being crabby today.

We got back to full swing getting orders ready, not a single word between me and Jessica but I continued  thinking about Loki. I usually don’t let customers get to me but for some reason he was getting under my skin and I wanted to punch his smug face. I glanced at him one last time only to realize that he had been looking at me. He smirked and slowly went back to his book.

Oh yes, I definitely wanted to punch his smug face.