#maybe i’m making them sad by not putting them to their god intended purpose

[warmearthworm]

i love stuffed toys

[gamergirl929]

They Hate Each Other (No They Don't, Not Really)  (Alex Morgan x Reader)

All would agree, your arch nemesis showing up absolutely anywhere you were would ruin your day, but that’s EXACTLY what happens to one veteran USWNT player, Alex Morgan, when she runs into her arch nemesis at the USWNT camp.

Alex Morgan’s eyes widen, pure rage running through her when you strut towards her, bag in hand.

“You shouldn’t look at your soon to be teammate like that Morgan, frowning gives you wrinkles.” You wink, the forward’s lip curling in a snarl.  

“What’s she doing-

“I DON’T KNOW.” Alex yells, nearly making Kelley jump out of her skin.  

Alex was absolutely livid, seeing you at the USWNT camp had been a surprise, and not a wonderful one.  

The second Alex spotted Vlatko Andonovski she advances angrily on the man, who’s looking at her as if he expected this reaction.  

“Alex-

“What the hell!? We’re you going to tell me? To tell US?!” She yells, louder than intended, but you’d riled her up in way no one had before.  

“I didn’t know you were the coach this year Morgan, if I did, I would’ve stayed home.” You snark, your smirk making Alex growl.  

“Shut UP!” She yells and you laugh.  

“We should room together Morgan, I think we’d make GREAT roommates.”  

Alex growls, mumbling under her breath.  

“It’ll be easier to smother you in your sleep then.”  

You smirk cockily.  

“Kinky.”  

Alex snarls angrily.  

“Listen.” Vlatko holds a hand up, glancing your way before turning back to Alex.  

“Y/N is one of the best players in the world, having her at our camp, and possibly on the team brings our team up to the next level. I saw a chance, and I took it.”

Alex shakes her head.  

“But-

He shakes his head.  

“I’m sorry Alex.” He pats her on her shoulder before turning away and walking off.  

Alex meanwhile is standing stock still, her mouth agape.  

Her biggest rival had just joined the USWNT camp, and would PROBABLY join the USWNT.  

She growls.

“Fuck.”  

                                                            ***

If you were being honest, you absolutely hated Alex Patricia Morgan, the woman knew how to push your buttons and she did so whenever she could.

You’d met during college, of course, on rival teams, ultimately where your rivalry began, a rivalry that seeped into your NWNT career, and when Alex came overseas, donning the Tottenham Hotspur’s jersey, you were there, wearing a red and white Arsenal’s jersey.  

Needless to say, when the two teams squared up, your rivalry continued.  

Alex hated you just as much as you hated her, making the competition between the two of you even more fierce.

It surprised literally EVERYONE that the two of you hadn’t killed one another yet.

At this current moment in time though, you were currently literal moments from killing one another.  

“I didn’t mean to step on your cleats Morgan, just go to the store when practice is over and buy another pair.” You snort.  

Alex lets out a feral growl.  

“You are SO fucking infuriating!”  

You blow the woman a kiss, which only infuriates her more, the woman stomping her foot before she trudges off.  

“Fuck off!” She yells over her shoulder and you scoff.  

“You too!”  

                                                            ***

Vlatko rubs the back of his neck watching as you and Alex hurl insults at one another. He’d known about your rivalry, but he wasn’t aware that it went to the extent of actual hatred.  

Alex was absolutely fuming as you walked past her, moments after sinking a goal in her team’s net.  

“Don’t look so mad Morgan, we both know I’m better than you could ever dream of being.”  

Alex stomps passed you, the woman’s shoulder slamming into yours.  

You flip around, eyes full of absolute fire.  

“Body check me again Morgan, I fucking dare you.” You growl in her face, so much so that your nose brushes hers.  

Alex pushes you backwards.  

“Nobody tells me what to do on MY FIELD.”  

You snicker.  

“Your field?” You throw your head back, barking out a laugh, though when you stop laughing you lean towards her, smirking.  

“Let’s see how much longer this field is yours, you numpty.”  

Alex growls as you walk towards the nearby benches with a confident strut.  

“WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN!?”

                                                            ***

“I don’t get why you hate Y/N so much ANYWAY, she seems nice...”

The second the words leave Emily’s mouth she feels as if she’s about to burst into flames from the absolute fiery glare she’s getting from Alex.  

Kelley immediately slips in between Alex and Emily, her hands held up in surrender.  

“Jan, please don’t kill Emily, who else will carry on the Frat Daddy legacy!?” The defender asks, pleading for her child’s life.  

Alex snarls, stomping away from the two of them, all the while mumbling angrily under her breath.  

“Y/N NICE?! How could ANYONE put her and NICE in the same fucking sentence???” She snarls, deciding that some time on the field would clear her mind.  

                                                            ***

Though what Alex DOESN’T expect when she gets to the field is to find you there, the field between you and the goal littered with soccer balls.  

Alex ducks down when you turn her way, an aggravated snarl leaving you.  

“BLOODY HELL!” You yell, Alex’s eyes widening at the thickness of your accent.

She peeks out from her hiding place, watching as you drop down onto the pitch, sitting in a cross-legged position.  

Alex frowns when she sees your face is buried in your hands.  

“Fuck that shite.” You sigh as you move to your feet, wiping the sweat from your brow with your bare arm.  

Alex isn’t sure what possess her to stay for so long, but nearly an hour later you’re still on field, sinking ball after ball in different angles, it’s when you miss one that you angrily snarl.  

“Nothing but a right, cock-up!”  

Alex shakes her head, her brows furrowed.  

Why were you so hard on yourself after you’d done so well within an hours time?

Alex’s eyes widen when she sees you glance her way your brows furrowed.  

“Oi! Is someone there?!” You shout, standing stock still.

When no one replies, you give your head a rapid shake, unaware that Alex is currently sprinting away from the scene.

“Must’ve imagined it.”  

                                                            ***

Alex had seen how hard you were on yourself that day, but that in no way quelled her anger entirely considering you were at each other's throats after the fact.  

“You did that on fucking PURPOSE!” Alex growls as she’s helped to the bench, her leg injured from an accidental cleating by yours truly.  

You pinch the bridge of your nose as you jog over to the bench.  

“I didn’t!” You growl as you drop to your knees in front of her, the forward’s eyes wide and brows furrowed when you gently slip her cleat off her foot, along with her sock, now noticing the hints of blood dotting the fabric.  

“Shite.” You mumble, swiping the nearby first aid kit from the team’s doctor.  

“Yeah, I don’t like you, but I wouldn’t make you purposely bleed.”  

Alex watches in something akin to disbelief when you begin to clean her injury with a delicacy that she hadn’t seen from you in, well, ever.  

Your touch sent a jolt from her leg through her entire body, a warmth spreading throughout her from a delicate brush of your fingertips.  

Moments after you finished dressing her wound, you glance up at her.  

“This doesn’t mean I hate you any less.”  

You move to your feet, sending the woman a glare before you head back on field.  

“Don’t use your leg as an excuse for the shite way you’re playing, you know it’s just because I’m better than you.” You smirk cockily.  

Alex’s eyes narrow.  

“Better my ass.”  

                                                            ***

The first person who finds out about you making the USWNT, well, besides yourself, is Alex Morgan, considering you actively sought her out, a cocky smirk on your face.  

Alex sighs in annoyance.  

“I know you made the fucking team, go away.”  

You grin grabbing an apple from the table in front of you and take a bite, the apple crunching loudly.  

“I’m right where I’m supposed to be actually. Isn’t this where the USWNT members sit?” You grin, earning an eye roll from the forward.  

“Yes, but your seat is over there.” She nods towards the trash and you laugh, sucking a piece of apple down your windpipe, garnering no help from the woman beside you.  

“Blimey, let one of the ONLY reasons you’ll be winning any and all major tournaments this year die, real dull mate.”  

Alex growls.  

“I’m not, ‘dull mate.’” She says, doing her best to mock you and your accent.

Your eyes widen.  

“Oh my god, that was rank awful. That actually hurt to hear. My nan is rolling over in her grave right now.”  

Alex blows a raspberry at you.  

“Real mature love, real mature.”  

“Don’t you have someone else to bother?” She growls.

“I’m busy bothering you right now.”  

Alex snarls, jumping to her feet and storming off.  

“See you later teammate!” You yell, waving over exaggeratedly at her as she marches off.

                                                            ***

Where your feelings for Alex, at least off the field, were based more off of annoying her until the point of insanity, your feelings for her on the field was a competitive hate, something Alex mirrored, but her hate for you off field?  

Well, it was complete unbridled hate.  

“Seriously, if you’re going to play like that, then stay off the field, England needs you more than we do.” Alex shakes her head and you smirk.  

“You over shot it! Not me!” You shake your head in disbelief.  

Alex lets out a mock laugh.  

“Maybe you should’ve actually ran faster.”  

You throw your head back with a groan.  

“If I was in your position, we would’ve scored.”

Alex stomps her foot, the look in her eyes something you’d seen before, but never to this extent.  

“You’re not made for the USWNT and you’re NOT made for soccer at a national level, you sucked in college, and you still fucking suck now.”  

The field goes silent, everyone turning to look at Alex, their eyes wide.  

Meanwhile, Alex’s blue orbs are locked on your face, a face that holds literally no hints of the cockiness it TYPICALLY holds, instead, it holds what she reads, as a hint of sadness.  

You clear your throat, your mouth opening and closing a few times before you nod.  

“Th-Thanks.”  

Alex reaches out to you as you turn your back on her, the woman frowning as you make your way towards the bench, grabbing your things hastily before you head towards the bus.  

Alex’s head hangs in shame, the looks of her teammates burning holes in her back.  

“Alex-” Megan starts, only to be cut off by the forward moments later.  

“I KNOW! OKAY!?” She yells, sending the rest of the USNWT a look.  

Her shoulders hunch.  

“I know.”  

                                                            ***

The second she steps on the bus you turn away, unwilling to look at the woman as she walks past, though, unfortunately for you, she doesn’t walk past, she instead sits right beside you.  

“Are you lost?” You ask, voice rough.  

Alex shakes her head.  

“No, I’m not.”  

You move to your feet.  

“Well, if you’re not lost, then I’ll get lost.” You say, frowning when Alex doesn’t move so you can get out of your seat.  

“Move Morgan.” You growl angrily.  

She shakes her head.  

“No can do, Y/L/N.” She shrugs and you growl, about to climb over the seat, but the look on Alex’s face stops you, causing you to flop back down into your seat in annoyance.  

“Why are you holding me against my will Morgan?” You huff.  

She sighs, rolling her eyes.  

“Look, I’m sorry, I took it too far.”  

Your eyes narrow, brows furrowing as you lean back, away from the woman.  

“There’s no WAY that you’re Alex Morgan, she never apologizes, especially not to ME.” You bark out a laugh and she shakes her head.  

“As much as it PAINS me to do so, I shouldn’t have said what I said on field, you do deserve to be on the team, and you don’t suck... That much.” She shrugs, and you can’t help but smile.  

You begin chuckling, the woman looking at you in confusion.  

“What’s so funny?”  

“Yeah, you still suck.”  

Alex growls.  

“Fuck you Y/N.”  

You grin.  

“Right back at you love, right back at you.”  

                                                            ***

The lineup for the first match against Portugal was rather surprising, you weren’t expecting to start, not when players like Megan Rapinoe, Tobin Heath and Christen Press were on the team, but you were named to the starting lineup.  

You wouldn’t show your surprise to the team, but you’d been sure to ask Vlatko multiple times if the lineup was correct, and he of course, told you repeatedly it was.  

You did your best to not look nervous when standing in the tunnel, a number of Portugal’s players were glancing your way worriedly, everyone knew who you were, and everyone knew what you could do.  

The crowd cheered as the USWNT and Portugal made their way onto the field, everyone excited to see the new editions to the USWNT and what they had to offer.  

You completely blank out the National Anthem, standing stock still your eyes darting around the sold-out crowd.  

It isn’t until you’re taking your place on field that you snap back out of it, your eyes unconsciously darting to the woman with a big 13 on her back.  

You smirk.  

“Show time.”  

                                                            ***

You can feel it, the moment you’re about to make your first goal with the USWNT, your entire body shaking with excitement.

Alex can’t help but smile when you expertly slip the ball passed the Portugal player who’s on you and fire it in on goal, the ball with a bit of a spin on it.  

You still, the ball looking like an overshot, but thanks to the spin on it, gravity pulls it downwards, passed the goalkeeper’s fingertips and into the back of the net.  

You throw a fist in the air with a massive grin, a grin Alex mirrors when she walks over to you, patting your back, her reaction tame considering Tobin was currently hanging off your back, along with Kelley and Emily.  

Alex shrugs.  

“Lucky shot.”  

You snort.  

“Luck had nothing to do with it.”  

Alex snorts even louder.  

“I mean, I DID assist.”  

You roll your eyes.  

“Didn’t need your assistance.” You smirk, the forward’s eyes narrowing as she sends you a glare, receiving only a wink in return.  

Alex growls.  

“Still so infuriating.”  

                                                            ***

By the end of the first half the score is 2-0, and by the end of the game, it’s 4-0, one of those goals being yours, and another belonging to Alex Morgan.  

It’s when you’re heading to the bus that you turn to Alex with a smirk.  

“Had to copy me, huh Morgan?”

Alex scoffs.  

“Copy? You got a goal before me, big deal.”  

Tobin shakes her head as she takes a seat beside Christen on the bus.  

“Do they argue about everything?” She asks and Christen giggles, watching as you and Alex bicker, though instead of sitting far away from one another, Alex sits right behind you.  

“I mean, I guess that’s how they say they’re into each other.”  

An incredibly loud laugh makes Christen jump, the woman turning to her bus buddy who is looking at her in shock.  

“They literally want each other dead.”  

Christen rolls her eyes.  

“No, they don’t, they like each other.”  

Ali turns around in her seat towards Christen and Tobin.  

“I mean, it’s obvious.”  

Ashlyn scoffs.  

“Obvious that Y/N would poison Alex’s food if she could.”  

Kelley, who comes in from out of nowhere snorts.  

“Yeah, I mean, they’ve hated each other since college, Jan talks about it all the time.”  

Christen and Ali share a glance, the two shaking their heads.  

“They’re totally into each other.”

“Oh, I know.”  

                                                            ***

“Wait, there HAS to be a mistake...” You say as Vlatko turns to you, Alex’s eyes wide and filled with absolute horror.  

“No, the two of you are rooming together. It seems.” He shrugs, knowing full well that it was he who decided the two of you would room together, and it wouldn’t be a onetime deal either.

The two of you glance at one another, eyes narrowed.  

“I get the shower first.” Alex mumbles and you smirk, swiping the key from Vlatko before sprinting to the elevators.  

“The FUCK you do!” You yell, Alex sprinting after you.  

“Y/N YOU GET BACK HERE!”

Everyone watches as Alex chases after you, their eyes wide.  

Tobin turns towards Christen.  

“You call THAT being into each other?”  

Christen turns towards Ali, the two yet again, shaking their heads.  

“Oblivious.”  

                                                            ***

“DON’T USE ALL THE HOT WATER!” Alex yells, smacking the bathroom door and you growl.  

The door swings open moments later and you walk out, wearing nothing but a sports bra and a pair of boxers.  

“Morgan, we’re in a hotel, that’s impossible.”  

Alex watches as you head to your suitcase, riffling through its contents.  

She can’t help but stare, the wide expanse of flesh and muscle usually hidden beneath your uniform now on display for her to see.  

You turn around, holding a wad of clothes, your brows furrowed.

Alex jumps when you reach out, poking her in the forehead with your index finger.  

“Hey!” She growls, slapping at your hand.  

“I just wanted to see if you were still alive.”  

Alex’s eyes rake down your front, stopping on your very prominent abdominal muscles.  

You turn away and step in the bathroom, kicking the door shut behind you.  

Alex stands there for a moment before she glances around.  

“Yeah.”  

                                                            ***

Alex had TRIED to tell herself that she was in NO way ogling you like a horny frat boy, but when you walked out wearing basically the same thing to sleep in, she knew she was, for a fact, ogling you like a horny frat boy.  

She’d made a quick retreat to the bathroom moments after, but she couldn’t avoid you forever.  

You meanwhile were completely sprawled out in bed, Nintendo Switch in hand. You briefly wondered if Alex had drowned, but when the bathroom door swung open you sighed.  

“I thought you might’ve drowned, I was going to see if you wanted to smash.”

Alex stops mid-stride, dropping her clothes on the floor.  

“WHAT!?”  

Your brows furrow as you hold your Nintendo Switch up.  

“Smash...?”

Alex clears her throat, her cheeks blood red.  

“O-O-Oh...”  

You snort.  

“Christ Morgan.” You shake your head and she rolls her eyes, stomping to her bed.  

“What?”  

You shrug.  

“Get your mind out of the gutter, at least now I know you want in my trousers.” You smirk and she snarls, a pillow flying from her bed and smacking you right in the face.  

“Fuck you.”  

“SEE!” You grin, throwing the pillow back on her bed.  

“I’m going to kill you in your sleep.”

You shake your head.  

“Get over here and we’ll smash.” You hold a controller out to her and her eyes narrow.  

“Sure, you’re okay with losing?” She asks cockily and you grin.  

“Are you?”

Alex scoffs.  

“I’d never lose to you.”  

“We’ll see about that.”  

                                                            ***

“Why do you look so tired?” Kelley asks Alex the following day and the forward yawns.  

“Y/N and I were Smashing.”  

Kelley’s brown orbs widen, as do Alex’s the forward punching her friend in the arm.  

“Super Smash Brothers you bitch.”  

Kelley hums.  

“I mean I could see you and Y/N hate fucking each other.” She shrugs and Alex’s cheeks flush bright red.  

Alex punches Kelley in the shoulder, the defender groaning.  

“Jesus Christ, Jan. You didn’t have to hit me so hard.”  

Alex turns her attention towards her breakfast and away from the pouting defender beside her.  

Though you were absolutely irritating and Alex thought about killing you a total of 48 times last night, she enjoyed spending time with you.  

You yawn as you make your way towards the table, sitting across from Alex.  

“You have to get used to losing if we keep smashing every night.”  

Suddenly a plate falls to the table, hard, the sound making everyone jump.  

Tobin is standing beside you, her eyes wide, Ashlyn meanwhile is smirking as she sits down beside you.  

“Who’s smashing?” Megan asks and you roll your eyes.  

“Smash Bros.” You shake your head and Megan rolls her eyes exaggeratedly.

“Boring, there’s only one Smash that’s actually interesting.”  

Tobin gasps dramatically, her hand on her heart.  

“I beg to DIFFER.”  

You shake your head, watching with amusement as the two bicker, leading to Ashlyn chiming in.

You glance at Alex.  

“You just HAD to tell everyone we Smashed.”  

Alex rolls her eyes.  

“Of course, I did, because I won.”  

You bark out a laugh, shaking your head as you sip your orange juice.  

“Like one time, Morgan.”  

Alex growls.  

“WELL, WE’LL SMASH AGAIN TONIGHT!” She yells, every single one of her teammates turning her way.  

Alex clears her throat, rubbing the back of her neck.  

“Are we talking about the SAME Smashing?” You smirk and Alex sends you a glare.  

“SHUT UP.”  

                                                            ***

Alex rubs her temples angrily.  

Playing in the rain had always been a hassle, but playing in the rain against SWEDEN was a nightmare.  

Sweden was the USWNT’s rival and the fact that the USWNT were currently down by 2 of COURSE, didn’t sit well with Alex Morgan.  

The whistle blows, signaling the end of the first half and Alex sighs in relief, she needed a break, not only for her tired legs, but to quell the irritation inside of her.

Someone bumps into her and she snarls.  

“Watch where the FUCK you’re going.” She turns towards, who she now realizes is you, you who looks as equally pissed as she does.  

“Listen Morgan, I’m seriously not in the fucking mood, I’m just as mad as you are, so don’t start your shit with me.” You snap, your USWNT teammates stopping to stare at the two of you with wide eyes.  

“Fuck you.” She snarls turning to walk away and you sneer.  

“Yeah? We’ll fuck you too!” You yell before you follow after her and into the locker room.  

“Why are you following me!?” She yells and you scoff.  

“WE SHARE A LOCKER ROOM.” You deadpan, flopping down on the nearby bench.  

“Well, you can still sit away from me.” Alex gripes and you shake your head.  

“I’m not moving Morgan.”

Alex, being purposely annoying sits down behind you, rather closely in fact.  

“Well, I’m not either.” She mumbles and you snort.  

“Mature Morgan, REALLLL mature.”  

                                                            ***

By the time the game ended the USWNT had a comeback, winning the game 3-2, much to Alex’s elation, as well as your own.  

That elation didn’t erase the fact that the two of you had argued during the match, the two of you cold, wet and incredibly angry.  

Alex is pulled out of her trance when the bathroom’s door in your and her hotel room swings open, a rush of steam flowing out as you leave the room.  

Alex glances away from you, not only because you’re, yet again, barely dressed, but also because she’s ashamed of her behavior earlier that day.  

You flop onto your bed without even looking at her, choosing to fall face down against its plush surface.  

You remain silent, the air within the room incredibly heavy.  

The silence is broken by Alex’s soft whisper.

“I’m sorry I took my frustration out on you.”  

You remain silent as you roll over, your hand slipping into your suitcase.

You search blindly until you find what you’re looking for, holding the Nintendo Switch out to Alex.

“Smash?” You ask and Alex smiles.

“Smash.”  

Alex flops on the bed beside you, taking the controller she’d used a few nights prior.

You glance at her out of the corner of your eye.

“I’m sorry too.”  

Alex’s brows arch, the woman unable to bite back a smile, something that makes you send her a glare.

“Enough of this shite, ready to lose Morgan?”  

Alex scoffs.  

“I should be asking you that.”  

                                                            ***

You grimace as the body beside you shifts, a pair of arms wrapping tightly around you from behind.  

“I’m not the little spoon.” You growl, attempting to wiggle free from the hold you’re in.  

“Get over it.”  

Your eyes flash open, as do Alex’s the two of you abruptly sitting up when you realize you’d in fact fallen asleep together the night before.  

You turn to face her, the two of you looking at one another in absolute horror.

“I was just-

Alex leaps out of bed, the woman making a beeline towards the bathroom the two of you share.  

You nod, your cheeks flushed.  

“Ye-Yeah.”

You clear your throat, turning away from the bathroom to instead look at the alarm clock beside you.  

3:13 AM

You grumble, annoyed at the fact that you’d woken up so early.  

If you were honest with yourself, you were also annoyed that Alex wasn’t currently beside you, but you weren’t really in the mood for honesty at the moment.  

You flop backwards, rolling towards the center of the bed where it just so happens Alex had been laying moments later, the smell of the woman’s perfume left behind on the sheets.  

You attempt to resist temptation, but find yourself failing when you bury your nose into the sweet-smelling fabric, the smell clouding your senses.  

The bathroom door creaks open sometime after, the sweet-smelling fabric lulling you to the cusp of sleep, as you fight your eyelids you watch as Alex tiptoes to her bed, the woman glancing over her shoulder at your ‘sleeping’ form with a smile before she makes her way to her own bed.  

She falls down onto the cold sheets with a frown, thoughts of what the following day would bring running through her head.  

                                                            ***

Much to everyone’s surprise at practice the following day, neither you nor Alex had been at one another’s throats, in fact, you’d been ignoring each other as if the other had contracted the Black Death.  

Even when you slip a ball passed Alex and into goal, you don’t gloat, instead choosing to just jog away as if you hadn’t scored.  

“Okay, what the hell was that?” Kelley asks, her eyes narrowed as she stares inquisitively at Alex.  

“What?” Alex asks dumbly.  

Kelley scoffs.

“THAT, Y/N didn’t even gloat! She didn’t rub in your face that she scored passed you!” Kelley points at you and Alex shrugs.  

“Beats me.”  

Kelley’s eyes narrow even further as Alex walks away, the defender’s eyes burning holes in her back.  

“I WILL FIND OUT WHAT’S GOING ON JAN!” She yells across field, drawing the attention of each and every one of her teammates, including you.  

You clear your throat, your cheeks flushing when you realize Alex’s blue orbs are on you.  

The two of you abruptly turn away from one another, thoughts of the events that transpired that morning running through your heads.  

You clear your throat as you rub the back of your neck, your cheeks flushing further when you think about Alex’s arms around you, and how much you’d liked it.  

                                                            ***

That night was even worse considering the two of you were still rooming together.  

Alex refused to look in your direction and you refused to look in hers, making the situation even more awkward.  

“Look.” Alex started, causing you to turn her way, when your eyes locked, she fell silent.  

“This was easier when you weren’t looking at me.”  

Your eyes widen momentarily before you turn away.  

“Alright Morgan, go ahead.”

Alex huffs.  

“I’m sorry about last night, I didn’t mean to, ummm...”  

You chance a glance her way, smirking when you see how flushed her cheeks are.  

“What?” Alex asks when she sees the smirk on your face and you shrug.  

“Nothing.”  

You fish your Nintendo Switch out of your bag and nod towards your bed.  

“Let’s go Morgan, or are you too shy to Smash now?” You ask, a brow arched and Alex scoffs.  

“Not a chance.”  

                                                            ***

It’s an hour into playing that it happens, though neither you, or Alex realized it was happening until your shoulders brush.  

You both stiffen, your eyes widening, though neither of you dare look at the other.  

Something else neither of you do though is scoot away from one another, your shoulders still brushing.  

You clear your throat, your body untensing as you settle back against the pillow behind you, the feel of Alex’s blue orbs boring into you making goosebumps sprout on your flesh.  

“Come on Morgan, head in the game.”  

You miss the tiny smile that adorns Alex’s face as she focuses on the screen before you, though what you don’t miss is the brush of her leg against yours.  

The inevitable of course happens when you feel Alex’s head rest on your shoulder, the woman fighting her fluttering eyelids.  

You glance at the nearly unconscious woman on your shoulder and snort.  

“Lay down Morgan.” You smile, the forward grumbling.  

“But I don’t want to get up...”  

You roll your eyes, taking her controller and laying your Switch on the table between your beds.  

You wiggle until your head hits the pillow behind you, which results in Alex’s head falling onto your chest, the forward’s eyes widening.  

You remain silent, waiting for her to make the next move, when she cuddles into your side, your cheeks flush, that flush spreading to the tips of your ears.  

“Is this, okay?” Alex asks in a hushed whisper and you smile.  

“It is.”  

                                                            ***

The two of you sharing a bed becomes a regular thing, so much so that Alex’s bed remains untouched 95% of the time, usually housing your luggage instead of Alex like it should be.  

The rivalry you had on the field soon disappeared, something that came as a shock to literally everyone, even Vlatko.  

You knew what you felt for Alex wasn’t friendship, it went well beyond that, your hatred for her turned into something you never ever expect, and that was love.  

You loved Alex Morgan and there was no going back.  

                                                            ***

You were pissed, absolutely pissed, and how could you not be when no fouls were being called against Canada?  

Fouls that were currently being directed at #13, Alex Morgan.  

You snarl when yet again, Alex is taken down in the box, but YET AGAIN, the foul isn’t called.  

“COME ON!” You yell, stomping towards the downed forward whose hand you take before you pull her to her feet.  

“Are you okay?” You ask worriedly as you scan the forward who nods.  

“Yeah, I’m okay.” She smiles and you nod.  

“She better call the fouls or I swear-

The whistle blows and you growl.  

“Nothing but a right bitch that one.” You mumble before jogging away, missing the snort that Alex lets out, the forward shaking her head.  

Her cheeks flush from more than exertion when she realizes your anger that’s directed at the ref is because the fouls have been directed solely on her, considering she was the only one being fouled.  

And that was about to happen yet again, but this time, Alex wasn’t going to get up.  

                                                            ***

The look on your face was one of pure horror when Alex went down with a cry, the Canadian player’s cleats digging into her skin, soaking her socked ankle with blood.  

The whistle blows loudly, the ref finally carding the player who’d fouled Alex with a red card, but that wasn’t good enough for you, not when Alex was currently bleeding.  

Alex watches from her place on the ground as you advance on the player in red, landing a right hook that would make any boxer jealous, the woman falling to the ground with a thud.  

Time literally stands still, your knuckles throbbing in pain as the player cups her cheek, her eyes wide as she stares up at you in shock.  

“OFF THE FIELD! NOW!” The ref yells, the woman producing a red card immediately and holding it high above her head.  

“Bugger off, wanker.” You mumble as you make your way towards Alex, who’s currently surrounded by the medical team.  

“What the hell did you do that for!?” She growls at you and you frown.  

“I-

You glance around, watching as the Canadian player, you were so angry you didn’t know her name, is aided off field, the woman still clasping her cheek.  

Your mouth opens and closes a few times, the taste of bile on the back of your tongue.  

Deep down, you knew why your reaction had been so visceral, but you couldn’t tell Alex that could you?  

So instead, you decided to do the only thing you could do, and that was turn on your heels and sprint towards the nearest exit.  

                                                            ***

Alex frowns as you sprint towards the exit, leaving her and the team behind.  

The medical team hoists her to her feet, the woman limping off field, the fans clapping in respect for the USWNT player as the final whistle blows.  

The second Alex gets off field though she pulls away from the medical team, choosing instead to limp after you, the forward hoping she wasn’t too late and was able to catch you.  

Alex limped down the tunnel and rushed towards the nearest exit, hoping it was the exit you’d went through in your haste to put distance between the two of you.

She rounds the corner, a sigh of relief leaving her when she sees you marching down the sidewalk, away from her.  

“Y/N!” She yells, causing you to stop in your tracks.  

The dark clouds overhead that had been teasing rain all day had finally opened the proverbial floodgates, the soft sprinkles becoming somewhat of a downpour in literal moments.  

Slowly, you turn around to face the forward who’s advancing on you, the woman limping as quickly as she can, closing the distance between the two of you.  

You swallow hard, unable to look the woman in the eye as she tries catching your gaze,  

“Y/N?! What was that!?” She yells, pointing back at the field and you shake your head.  

“What was that!?” She yells again and you swallow hard.  

“She was on your ass the entire game Al, and no one was calling the fouls! I had to do something!” You yell over the heavily pouring rain, the nickname slipping unknowingly off your tongue.  

“That’s not your job, Y/N.” She frowns and you scoff.  

“So, I’m just supposed to watch her hurt you? Watch her make you bleed!?” You cry, the feel of frustrated tears welling up in your eyes.  

“Why does it matter so much to you!?” She asks, and you shake your head.

“Because I love you!”  

Alex stiffens, as do you, your eyes widening in horror when you realize what you’d just said.  

Your mouth opens and closes, the taste of bile on the back of your tongue as you take a step back from the injured USWNT forward.  

Alex reaches out for you, her fingertips brushing the back of your hand.  

“Y/N...” She whispers, taking a step towards you.  

You’re about to take a step back when she grabs your wrist, effectively holding you in place, you weren’t about to jerk away, fearful that you may hurt her.  

You swallow hard when she steps even closer, the distance between you closing as her chest brushes your own.  

“Say it again.”  

You shake your head as you turn away, though when Alex’s fingers intertwine with yours, you turn back towards her, the woman’s blue orbs focused on your hand in hers.  

“Say it again...”  

You shake your head, a lump forming in your throat.  

“Alex-

“Please Y/N.” She whispers as she tucks a strand of hair, that had been stuck to your face, behind your ear.  

You blink rapidly, Alex’s fingers tracing your jawline before she cups your cheek.

Your mouth opens and closes a few times before you find your voice.  

“I-I...” You stammer, your eyes shutting as you swallow.  

“I love you, Alex, and I think I always have I just-

You stiffen, your eyes wide and hands hovering in the air as Alex’s lips meet yours in a tentative, first kiss.  

Just as your eyes flutter shut the team rounds the corner, their eyes widening before they turn Christen and Ali, the two smirking as they bump their shoulders together.  

“We told you.”  

Meanwhile your hands find purchase on Alex’s waist, the woman pulling back only to lean right back in, the brush of her lips sending a jolt throughout your entire body.

A crack of lightning makes the two of you jump, though neither of you pull back, your lips brushing as the two of you smile, toothy grins on full display.  

Alex’s forehead rests against yours, her hair stuck to her face thanks to the water entirely soaking the two of you.  

The reasonable members of the team usher the chaotics back into the arena, leaving you and Alex alone, the two of you so wrapped up in one another you hadn’t noticed them anyway.  

Your tongue swipes at your lips, your Y/E/C orbs focused intently on Alex’s.  

“When did you know?” Alex asks, her voice pulling you out of your trance, your cheeks flushing.  

“Know what?” You ask dumbly, earning a look that says Alex knows you’re just playing dumb.  

You sigh.  

“The first time you yelled at me during a match in college.”  

Alex’s brows arch.  

“It was cute.”  

Alex scoffs.  

“It wasn’t meant to be cute.”  

You shrug.  

“Well, it was to me, and I was right smitten.”  

Alex’s lips split into a massive grin, the woman leaning in to bump her nose playfully against yours.  

“Your nose crinkles up when you’re angry.” She giggles and you bite your bottom lip, your cheeks dusted pink.  

Alex tilts her head back, kissing the tip of your nose, your lips splitting into a grin.

“I guess we better get back in there...” Alex sighs and you huff.  

“I guess so.”  

Alex reluctantly takes a step back before she turns around, the two of you walking back to the door that led back into the arena.  

Before Alex can make her way through the tunnel, you grab her wrist, giving her a gentle tug until she’s back in your arms again, your nose brushing hers.  

“I never ACTUALLY hated you.” You whisper softly, giving her wrist a squeeze.  

Alex smiles, the forward closing the distance between you with a feather light kiss, her lips feeling as if they barely brush your own.  

“And I never ACTUALLY hated you either.”

You cup Alex’s cheek, the woman’s blue orbs disappearing behind her fluttering eyelids as she leans into your touch.  

It’s in that moment when you spot them out of the corner of your eye, a snort sounding in the back of your throat as you watch your teammates scramble to make themselves scarce.  

Alex follows your gaze, the woman rolling her eyes in annoyance when she spots your nosy teammates.  

“Idiots.”  

You wrap your arms around her from behind, pulling the woman close, your chin resting on her shoulder.  

“So, you yell at them, and I watch? I bet it’s even cuter when you’re yelling at someone else.” You grin, grunting when Alex elbows you in the stomach.  

“It’s not cute when I’m angry.” She pouts and you grin, shrugging.  

“Actually, it’s adorable.”  

Alex growls, a furrow forming between her brows as she tries, and fails to scowl at you.  

“Still so infuriating.” She grumbles, the woman about to turn away, but before she can you catch her lips, unable to bite back a smile as the two of you kiss.  

“I’m so infuriating, but you still smitten, aren’t you love?” You ask and she rolls her eyes, her cheeks flushed red.  

She gives your shoulder a playful slap and you snicker.  

Looking into the pools of blue that are Alex Morgan’s eyes, you knew coming to the US was the best decision you’d ever made.  

You lean in, tilting your head back to press a kiss to her forehead.  

“What do you say we go kill our nosy teammates now?” You ask with a grin and Alex takes your hand, intertwining your fingers.  

“Lead the way.”  

[terrainofheartfelt]

Serena uploading Blair’s diary entries to the Gossip Girl laptop was one thing (shitty, but maybe forgivable given that she didn’t actually intend to upload them and was Going Through It at the time), but what she did in 5x24 at the Campbell divorce party was something else entirely. Ignoring the dubious consent issues of Serena sleeping with a drunk Dan who wasn’t aware he was being set up or filmed (mega yikes), Serena intentionally set the scene to recreate one of the worst formative moments of Blair’s life. So many of Blair’s insecurities about herself and her relationships stem from Nate cheating on her with Serena on that fucking bar, to the point that it was STILL affecting her in the present day - we’re shown in season 6 that she still doesn’t fully believe that anyone could truly get over Serena, which is part of the reason she decided to get back together with Chuck. For Serena to purposely exploit those insecurities, to force Blair to relive that moment just because she’s mad at her for kicking her out? It’s indefensible. As much as I feel like the whole thing was majorly OOC, if we are considering it canon, then I don’t think Serena deserved to be forgiven by Blair at all - it really should have been the end of their friendship, as shitty as that would have been. But I just don’t see how anyone could get over their best friend doing something so intentionally malicious to them, y’know?

(And again, that’s without even acknowledging the impact that being taken advantage of in such an intimate way must have had on Dan!)

Oohf so I am trying to answer some asks today and I’ve left this sitting for a while because it requires many spoons and mine have all…been in the sink or something. 

And yeah as you have I am going to put the Serena & Dan of it all (mostly) to the side bc it is SO egregious and I am not trying to justify what Serena does because it is awful 

But because you’re bringing this back to Blairena, let’s take it there. 

I’m actually glad I put answering this on hold bc now I can refer you to this excellent piece of meta by Jo. And it really does all come back to 1x04 doesn’t it? Blair thinks she’ll never be enough, but Serena just is, for that fact that she exists — and that’s not Serena’s fault, it’s just who she is, so it has to be Blair’s fault. 

Ok wow I am making myself sad so like, when you frame the relationship this way, it just gives the s5 finale that much more power to hurt you, because Blair has spent her whole life reconciling with how she’s Too Much and Not Enough at the same time, and she finally reaches a moment of arrival with “Dan loves me for me,” bc she doesn’t have to do that math with him anymore. But then, in her eyes, (not what I think was actually happening in this moment in my own reading) Serena takes another person from her, because that’s who she is. And it’s the narrative, right? The story that Blair, more than any of the other mains, except maybe chip, has known how the story is supposed to end. And here it has. And then it adds this extra layer of her going back to chip: she’s never enough, but he hasn’t made that a secret really. The devil you know. Meanwhile Dan is grappling with his own issues of Never Being Enough and Always Being Too Much and gossip!Serena (#notmyserena) captures them both at their weakest moment and confirms their respective fears at the same time. God that is some shakespearean shit. Gossip! Girl! Is! A! Tragedy! 

As for Blairena in the post s5 economy…I’ve been thinking about it a lot, it’s the next knot I’m trying to untangle in my post s5 au. the wounds they have inflicted on each other are so severe, but narratively, I still want them to love each other. So, I guess I’m suspending my disbelief a little bit for the sake of the fiction (which I think is fine! it’s a good thing in media!). And there’s is a friendship that is built for fiction. It’s the true Mythic Relationship of the show, the deep deep love they have for each other counterweighted by the deep deep loathing they have for their own selves, and constantly colliding and revolving and thriving and surviving and destroying each other. 

But with all of that, narratively speaking, they still need each other. 

So, it reads very homoerotic and romantic—which is valid, but if I may broker a pretentious cringe comparison born of another fandom obsession: I’ve always kind of thought of Blairena’s friendship as comparable to the notion of parabatai that is in Cassandra Clare’s Shadowhunter Chronicles Series (I know, I know just let me go there for a sec). So, leaving all the magic and warrior cult context of this fantasy series aside, the parabatai relationship is like a deep, binding platonic devotional bond between two people. They are tied together by faith and ritual, from childhood (that’s actually an important point in these books), a very specific kind of soulmate. Clare uses the ancient greek delineations of love to describe it philia (friendship, brotherly love) & agape (selfless universal love) but not necessarily eros (erotic and/or romantic – for the purposes of this illustration – love). She also references the biblical story of Ruth and Naomi “thy people shall be my people / thy god my god…where thou diest, I shall die, and there they shall bury me” etc etc. I don’t want to get to into it (because I will if I let myself, but this is all just to say, I don’t think the world would spin right if these two were to be estranged forever. They are bonded together, by their shared childhoods, shared traumas, the way they carried each other through their adolescence. The red string of fate is tying them together by their pinky swears.

So I don’t want the friendship to end, but I do think it needs to be given space. In calling back to my au, Mouthful of Forevers, that’s what I’ve done so far. To heal, they absolutely have to be apart for a while, Blair moves to France, Serena starts traveling, yadiyadiyadda. It’s distance that they needed probably since the Pink Party. To grow into themselves, so that when they next see other and really talk, they know enough about their own self that they aren’t threatened by the strength and self-actualization that their best friend now happens, the growth has to happen separately, or it won’t last. 

Which also comes back to 1x04 (shocker), and the way they define themselves in opposition to the other. Because, in this world of wealth they grew up in, they were taught to believe in scarcity. If she has this, that means that I can’t have it too. If Serena is good, then I am bad. If Blair is smart, then I am foolish. If I love her, then I can’t love me. If he loves her, then he cannot love me. If he loves me, he can’t, because who will love her? 

It’s a theological principle my dad and I have talked about (I know, let it go there) the gospel of scarcity vs the gospel of plenty. Ultimately, the gospel of scarcity is a fallacy. There is enough. These girls have enough love within them to give to each other and to themselves. There is enough in the world for them to both be happy. One does not need to tear herself apart to save the other, and she doesn’t need to tear the other apart to save herself. And they have to learn that by being apart for a while, and build a happiness that is outside of their friendship, so that they know when they come back together, that life isn’t going to go away in the presence of the other’s happiness. 

I think what Dan and Serena’s friendship looks like in the aftermath is a whole other post, but I’ll say this: the way he and Serena are tied together is different, because they met at a different point in their lives and to a different end, so I don’t know if Serena’s betrayal of him is worse (given the history she and Blair have) but I think Dan feels it more keenly, and has less qualms about cutting Serena out of his life than Blair would have. Which is also something I am trying to tackle in MoF, once I get back to writing it. It’s all incubating right now while I’m working on the P&P au, but here, have a snippet: 

She had been staring out the window, gazing at the Alps on the other side of the glass, Dan’s head pillowed in her lap while he talked. 

I think – he’d said, After it first happened, I thought it was something we had done together, but the further I get away from it, the more I think she was using me. And I don’t – I don’t know what to do with that.

[seungkwan-s]

second chances | thirteen

previous | next

pairing; lee heeseung x female reader, ft second lead jay park x female reader

warnings; one mention of blood from a papercut

genre; a little angst, some comedy and fluff

word count; 1.5k

taglist; @staysstrays @iminchaosnow @preciousdeerchild @fylithia @wooyoung-a @katyasrussianaccent @geminirules @lix-freckle3 @bluejayjay @blossomnct @shrutiajit @itsyaapollochild @witheeseung @seungstarss @meiinumaki @dreamyeyes26 @punneysushi01 @gtfovi @hrrhmay @soobnny @zhaixiaowen @leagreenly @grassbutneo @aurumness @minkyunheewon @milkycloudtyg @youreverydayzebra @liliansun @itsamemarioo (can’t tag)

a/n: yo this is the moment everyone has been waiting for. this was way longer than i intended it to be. i'll have the texts and stuff back in the next chapters ♡

as you step back into the cafe, the warm air and the smell of a freshly made cup of coffee hits you. you sigh, catching the attention of ryujin who's leaning against the coffee machine picking at her fingernails.

"y/n, are you okay. what happened?" you put your face into your hands, taking a deep breath and before you can say anything, the door opens and in walks heeseung, jake and sunghoon—the three boys soaked from the rain.

"do none of you own an umbrella?" sunoo blurts out, "i literally have two with me, do you want one?"

you see jake shaking his head, and mouthing a "no, thank you" to sunoo.

your mind is clouded with thoughts of the conversation you shared with jay earlier, was this related to that day when he asked you how you'd feel if you two were soulmates? or are you already overthinking this?

ryujin can sense something isn't right with you, she's noticed immediately that you're not your usual happy self; all smiles and laughter and you haven't greeted the boys as you normally do, in fact, you haven't even looked their way since they came in.

how are you supposed to start things over with heeseung? do you hold off for now until jay gets over you or do you just focus on working things out with heeseung and leave jay to sort things out himself? no matter what option you go for, you're going to hurt someone...

"y/n, what's going on?" ryujin puts her arms around you and leans her head on your shoulder, "i don't like seeing you sad, who am i kicking for hurting my favourite person?"

you shake your head, looking around the café before turning to her, "jay told me he's in love with me, and he reacted quite badly when i told him i didn't feel the same. and it's now put me in a position where if i start a friendship again with heeseung, it's gonna hurt jay. but if i hold off on things for now, i'm gonna hurt heeseung and i don't want to hurt anyone, and i feel like whatever option i choose, i'm gonna be made out to be the bad guy,"

"i'm sorry, y/n but you can't help how you feel. if you don't feel anything for jay, you can't force yourself to feel feelings plus the fact—and i really hate to say it, but non-soulmate relationships aren't destined to work out. they always fail, you read so much about them on the news, on social media. if you want my honest opinion, i think you should do what makes you happy. and i know there is absolutely nothing wrong with you working things out with heeseung. he is your soulmate after all. just give jay some space, he'll be okay,"

you let out a sigh of relief, you know she's right. you're only rebuilding the friendship you once had with heeseung, you're not just going to jump into a relationship, these things take time, and with time, hopefully you and jay can be friends again. you just hope he's okay...

~

a yelp from the back end of the cafe pulls you from your thoughts, "oh heeseung, you idiot, a papercut, really?"

"oh calm down, jake, it's just a bit of blood,"

"dude, you need a band aid, hold on—y/n! we need you," ryujin passes you the first aid box before whispering a "good luck" as you take it out of her hands. you're kinda wishing you didn't know first aid because not only do you now have to talk to heeseung, you have to touch him as well. baby steps first, you thought but no, destiny wants to throw you in the deep end.

you slide into the seat next to heeseung and place the first aid box on the table in front of you, "who's injured themselves now, hm?"

"your soulmate is an idiot, y/n, who cuts themselves on paper?"

"you'd be surprised at how many papercuts i've had to tend to in here, jake, especially with how thick people's books are and the amount of studying that goes on in here. they're the smallest of cuts and can hurt a lot but it's nothing serious," you pull out one of the alcohol wipe packets including the small box of band aids.

heeseung puts his hand out willingly and you're thankful you didn't need to ask, as the nerves are already creeping up on you. the last time you were this close to him was when you two were kids and it pains you a little. you really missed him...

"how did you learn first aid?" ah. you chuckle, thank god he initiated the conversation because you didn't know how the hell to.

"i took a course online, riki's always injuring himself, he's clumsy and because our mom and dad are always away working, i thought i might as well take up a skill that's going to be useful—that and cooking,"

he winces a little at the contact of the alcohol wipe and the cut on his finger, "don't be a wuss, hee," ...and there it is, the nickname you gave him when you two were kids. heeseung ignores that tiny little feeling in his stomach, he doesn't know whether it's guilt because he stopped talking to you or if he really missed the nickname you gave him. either way, he feels awful about how he's let this go on for so long.

"y/n, i'm sorry," you pause, you look down at his hand as it's now holding onto yours. the contact making you feel warm.

"it's okay, heeseung, we were kids—kids fall out over silly things, we can start over, it's fine," now you're rambling and trying to not look at him, fear you won't be able to look away.

"y/n, please, look at me," you can hear the sadness in his voice, you know he means his apology but you're not angry at him at all. if you did something to hurt him when you were kids, you owe him an apology. you raise your head and look at him, and it's a weird feeling you feel. maybe it's because the last time you looked into his eyes like this was that day you fell off your first bike and he tried to put a band aid on your knee and you were so thankful that he was there to help you.

"i'm so sorry, for ignoring you for basically most of our lives, it was over something so silly and i hate that i let this go on for so long, and i hope you can give me another chance to make things right between us. as each year passed, i just felt awful but i didn't know how to talk to you anymore, i thought you hated me. to be honest, it made it easier for me if i just pretended i didn't like you," his voice lowers to a whisper as you now hold his hand ever so gently.

"hee, i don't hate you, i never hated you, i just wondered what i did wrong. i wondered what i did that was so bad that you just pretended like i never existed. i won't lie, it hurt a lot but i- i missed you and i want us to be friends again but i need to know what i did so i can apologise,"

he lets out a sigh and runs his fingers through his hair, he's looking everywhere just not at you, "it's so stupid but do you remember when we were painting together? we were out in your garden and you were painting the sunset and i was doing a rainbow. i had it finished and you knocked over your jar of blue paint and it spilled all over my paper. i got so mad at you that i thought you did it on purpose because i told you it was a present for someone but instead of telling you the rainbow was for you, i just left you there alone, went home and that's why i stopped talking to you,"

"that's why you stopped talking to her, heeseung, oh my god, YOU GUYS WERE FIVE YEARS OLD!!??" jake snapped, slamming his hand on the table. heeseung turned to glare at him but the feeling of your fingers caressing his hand brought his attention back to you and his face softened.

"that was an accident, hee, i would never have intentionally ruined something of yours. i'm sorry i ruined your painting, and i'm sorry i made you think it was out of jealousy," you look up at him and he gives you a smile, "it's fine, i'll just paint you another one,"

"you don't need to paint me another one, hee,"

"i don't need to but i'm gonna do it anyway," he sends you a wink and you just about crumble to the floor.

~

as the clock hits 10pm and the lights go out in the cafe, you stand outside in the cold air waiting for the uber to come and pick the three of you up to take you home.

"so, y/n, how did it go with heeseung?" sunoo asks you, his arm linked with yours.

"it went really good, actually. better than i thought but i'm still nervous,"

"nerves are normal, my love, the two of you are going to be fine, just invite me to your wedding, okay?" you playfully slap ryujin, "shut up,"

[edenmemes]

red dead redemption 2 starters

❝ in these books life seems so simple, but in reality… i can’t make head nor tail of it. ❞  ❝ listen to me. when the times comes, you gotta run and don’t look back. ❞ ❝ i ain’t afraid of dying. ❞ ❝ i’m still standing, which is an improvement on the last time you saw me. ❞ ❝ i still think about you. that was...that was quite a time. ❞ ❝ people don’t forget. nothing gets forgiven. ❞ ❝ your father would rather you did not do anything so foolish. ❞ ❝ forgiveness, well...it’s just an easy way of saying ‘i don’t care no more’. ❞ ❝ i know you like to hide behind the angry moron act, but it’s a thin enough veneer. ❞ ❝ when somebody doesn’t lie in this world and you don’t lie to them, then together you can achieve great things and destroy great powers. ❞ ❝ i remain a fool, and i’m sure i shall die a fool, but i’m trying very hard to be something like the man you deserve. ❞ ❝ i am always honest, maybe not always good, but i'm always honest. ❞ ❝ why you got that guilty look on your face? ❞ ❝ i trust i will not make a god awful fool of myself once more-- but somehow i imagine i shall. ❞ ❝ please don’t go to any trouble on my account. ❞ ❝ you ain’t gonna die. not yet. ❞ ❝ feels like things have changed...the whole world has changed. ❞ ❝ i feel like we haven’t spoken for days. ❞ ❝ we’re thieves in a world that don’t want us no more. ❞ ❝ we can’t change what’s done. we can only move on. ❞ ❝ just do one thing or the other. don’t try to be two people at once. ❞ ❝ we’re more ghosts than people. ❞ ❝ how can romance ever be silly? it’s all we have. ❞ ❝ vengeance is an idiot’s game. ❞ ❝ i don’t think we can go much further on the horses. ❞ ❝ i'm surprised we escaped at all. ❞ ❝ you’re...i was gonna say you’re like a son/daughter to me. ❞ ❝ you’re...i was gonna say you’re like a son/daughter to me...but you’re more than that. ❞ ❝ this is a new low, even by your standards. ❞ ❝ i do my utmost to avoid you. ❞ ❝ i thought the whole point was that this had nothing to do with you? ❞ ❝ i’m sorry to complain. it’s just so... ❞ ❝ i need you now...more than ever. ❞ ❝ face me to the west so i can watch the setting sun and remember all the fine times we had that way. ❞ ❝ do you ever miss home? must be hard, being so far away. ❞ ❝ you know, we’re gonna need to come up with a better story for that scar. ❞ ❝ there’s a good man within you...but he is wrestling a giant. ❞ ❝ you saved my life. you’re a good man. ❞ ❝ there’s only one of me. i don’t intend for them to know i’m coming. ❞ ❝ i thought you were trying to make me feel better. ❞ ❝ be loyal to what matters. ❞ ❝ you know, i don’t think i’ve ever seen you squeal before. ❞ ❝ i'm miserable. been a tough few days. ❞ ❝ i trust your judgement. always have. ❞ ❝ i'm just gonna...have a little sit down and...feel sorry for myself. ❞ ❝ i tried. in the end. i did. ❞ ❝ one day, folk will take orders from me...and trust me, it won’t be no laughing matter. ❞ ❝ here, take a drink of this. ❞ ❝ seems like there ain’t much else in this world except bastards, victims of bastards and the bastards who want to put the bastards in the ground. ❞ ❝ we’ll get off this mountain soon enough. ❞ ❝ i haven’t slept in three days. ❞ ❝ just thought you might’ve moved on by now. ❞ ❝ thanks for coming for me. ❞ ❝ you got sad eyes...like you’ve seen sad things. ❞ ❝ you always said revenge is a luxury we can’t afford. ❞ ❝ you don’t hire a saint to catch a sinner. ❞ ❝ you’re alive! oh, you’re alive! ❞ ❝ go. now. i’ll hold them off. ❞ ❝ are you okay? i mean you no harm. ❞ ❝ i'm nobody. ❞ ❝ what about you? you doubting me too? ❞ ❝ it’s enough to make a man drink. or worse. ❞ ❝ i knew not to trust, yet i had no choice. ❞ ❝ there ain’t no more time to talk. go. ❞ ❝ thank you, for your strength. it means a lot to me. ❞ ❝ firstly, we ain’t friends. don’t make no mistake on that subject. ❞ ❝ i'm so bored i’d rather be shot. ❞ ❝ it’ll mean a lot to me...please. ❞ ❝ you’re gonna sleep with your chest open if you ain’t careful. ❞ ❝ the bond we share, it’s the most real thing to me. i would kill for it, i would happily die for it... ❞ ❝ life is full of pain. but there is also love, and beauty. ❞ ❝ my pa used to say you stare into the fire long enough you can see the whole world pass by. ❞ ❝ whenever we happen to meet, you’re always helping people and smiling. ❞ ❝ do as you’re goddamn told. and shoot well. ❞ ❝ i guess he never outgrew his anger. kind of like you. ❞ ❝ some trees flourish, others die. some cattle grow strong, others are taken by wolves. some men are born rich enough and dumb enough to enjoy their lives. ain't nothing fair. you know that. ❞ ❝ you’re driven by powerful forces i scarcely understand. ❞ ❝ oh you fool. you sad, deluded fool. torn in two by different ideas of who you were, and it turns out you weren't neither of them. ❞ ❝ well, i think you’re as slippery as an eel in an oil slick, but still a man/woman. ❞ ❝ with you watching over me, i’d walk into hell itself. ❞ ❝ lack of something to feel important about is almost the greatest tragedy a man may have. ❞ ❝ when i was your age, i fought. i saw death. i have killed. ❞ ❝ i wish things were different. but it weren’t us who changed. ❞ ❝ nobody’s taking anything from me ever again. ❞ ❝ some jobs aren’t for saving and some legacies are for pissing on. ❞ ❝ you're my favorite parasite... no, wait, ringworm's my favorite parasite, you're my second-favorite parasite... i lied. ringworm, then, rats with the plague, then you. ❞ ❝ just leave it to me. i can talk a dog off a meat wagon. ❞ ❝ forgive me if i slip and stab you in the face. ❞ ❝ this place, ain’t no such thing as civilized. it’s man so in love with greed, that he has forgotten himself and found only appetites. ❞ ❝ shut up...you know, you’re not very nice to me. ❞ ❝ the amount of hell we’ve raised, we’re owed some back. ❞ ❝ i haven’t done anything wrong aside of not playing the games to your rules. ❞ ❝ don’t let yourself get killed...for pride. i’ve seen it kill too many folk. ❞ ❝ when you fall, there’ll be a party. ❞ ❝ every day i didn’t kill you, is a day i saved your life. ❞ ❝ i can’t kill them all silently so, when they chase me, you go the other way. ❞ ❝ does this seem like a good time for sarcasm to you? ❞ ❝ usually i’m worse than the wolves. ❞ ❝ i don’t have to be careful. i have you as a friend. ❞ ❝ i wish i had acquired wisdom at less of a price. ❞ ❝ they’re chasing us hard, because we represent everything they fear. ❞ ❝ you know all that mattered to me was loyalty? it was all i ever believed in. ❞ ❝ never thought i’d say this but...it’s good to see you. ❞ ❝ we’ve all lived bad lives. we all sin...but i know you. ❞ ❝ i kill people. and maybe i should’ve killed you. ❞ ❝ ain’t you a sorry sight? ❞ ❝ your job’s starting the fights, it ain’t winning them. ❞ ❝ some big, loud mouthed bastard tried to rob me when i was out riding so i... well, you know how it is. ❞ ❝ there ain’t no shame in looking for a better world. ❞ ❝ i can hunt, carry a knife, and use a gun. ❞   ❝ ...is it too late for us? ❞ ❝ if the purpose of life was to be liked...it would be very boring indeed. ❞ ❝ i’ve been running for as long as i can remember. ❞     ❝ they turned me into a monster. ❞   ❝ i always wondered if i was unlucky...but maybe i’m just not very good. ❞ ❝ don’t kill yourself over pride. i’ve seen it kill too many folks. ❞ ❝ sorry if i seem a little desperate. i am a little desperate. ❞ ❝ if anyone gets close to me, they’re wanted too. and i can’t have you wrapped up in that. ❞ ❝ there’s all kinds of nasty people who want to speak to you. ❞ ❝ they won’t hear anything about you from me. ❞ ❝ tell me about you, darling and armed to the teeth like that. ❞ ❝ i also...found out some unsettling news about you. ❞ ❝ i don’t know how to say it...thank you. ❞ ❝ you...don’t like me much, do you? ❞ ❝ i can’t lie to you. i’m a wanted man. ❞ ❝ that’s quite a scratch you got there. ❞ ❝ take a gamble that love exists, and do a loving act. ❞ ❝ i’m seeing things a lot more clearly now. ❞ ❝ where are you? can you hear me? ❞ ❝ i think someone saw some wolves, not far away. you should watch out. ❞ ❝ guess all i got now is doubt. doubts and scars. ❞ ❝ it wasn’t me who went and shot him. ❞ ❝ will you dance with me? ❞ ❝ i like you. you’ve got a kind face. ❞ ❝ i’m not a good man. not usually. ❞ ❝ there’s a lot i should’ve done and even more i shouldn’t have done. ❞ ❝ you are a compulsive liar. ❞ ❝ next time, i’ll slit your throat myself. ❞ ❝ as long as we get paid or you get shot, i’m happy. ❞ ❝ i'm not designed for this snow. ❞ ❝ you don’t get to live a bad life and have good things happen to you. ❞ ❝ shut up you silly man and kiss me. ❞ ❝ who made you the messiah of these poor souls you’ve led so horribly astray? ❞ ❝ maybe it’s a sign. try to do the good thing. ❞ ❝ how many times do i gotta bury you? ❞ ❝ you are the only feller who could get half of their brain eaten by wolves and end up more intelligent. ❞ ❝ five thousand dollars? for me? can i turn myself in? ❞ ❝ if you find yourself in a hole, the first thing to do is to stop digging. ❞     ❝ we ain’t both gonna make it. ❞ ❝ i gave you all i had. i did. ❞ ❝ if we have to fight, we fight. If we have to run, we’ll run. if we must die, we’ll die. but…we’ll stay free. ❞ ❝ people call me lazy. i’m not lazy, just don’t like working. there’s a difference. ❞ ❝ i guess...i’m afraid. ❞ ❝ oh, i didn’t know i was talking to a lady. ❞ ❝ i don’t feel too good. ❞ ❝ you have finally lost your mind. ❞

[darkacademicfrom2021]

The Dark Team (part 11)

<<Previous part Masterlist   Next part>>

Warnings: Cookies and idiots. You might get diabetes.

N/A: I'm on a family trip right now so I'm being a little unactive but I'll do my best to be still updating on here. Thank you so much to everyone who reads and comments, you truly make me want to write twice as much.

The Dark Team: (Taglist: @lucywrites02, @louieboo87, @the-departed-potato, @jesuswasnotawhiteman, @idontknow296, @beksib, @spythoschei, @geekwritersworld, @whatafuckingdumbass, @mysticunicorn7 @shadowolf993 @toe-vind-ek-jou @joscelyn02, @t00-pi )

“Are you sure that’s how you should be sending those?”. His nosy ass telling you how to do your job in your midgardian electronics was just amazing, truly. “It would be faster for them if you send it with that link instead of…”.

“Listen, Mischief”, you interrupted his unnecessary corrections “I don’t tell you how to levitate, what about you don’t tell me how to do this?”.

“I don’t levitate”.

“Not the point. This is my deal. Besides, since when and how do you know how to handle midgardian tech?”.

“I… I’m bored”.

“Do I look like an entertainment to you right now?”.

“What do you mean right now? Are you planning on entertaining me later?”.

“I will choke you if you keep doing that”.

“Do you promise?”.

"Yes, my dear".

"Can't wait, then", he smirked. You rolled your eyes, about to answer something snappy, but the work was more important at the moment.

Your phone beeped, pulling you out of the very one sided discussion. You went back to your work in silence, getting your full focus and concentration on it. If it weren’t for Loki, you would’ve already done a thousand more other things. But, as a bug on the lenses, he was stuck to your side. It seemed like you were babysitting him.

Peter was staring at the roof from the couch. A pile of homework laid by his side, untouched, and his unlocked phone seemed to be waiting for him to make a call he didn’t want to. Loki observed him, unsure if it was a good idea to ask. You looked at his uncertainty from over your shoulder, and watched him finally give up on the idea of socially interacting with the kid, sitting down by your side on the big, big (and, exaggeratingly pointing out, big; yet he sat in the nearest chair from you) table.

The compound certainly was a boring place when uninhabited, and the sun was already teasing with coming down, making the common room’s lights turn brighter and warmer. Maybe it was automatic, maybe it was Friday. You couldn’t care less, for you were too distracted by Loki’s gaze on your work.

“Loki, for fuck’s sake, would you stop staring, my dearest?”, you asked, imitating his tone of voice, hoping it’d make it less aggressive and a bit more fun. He rolled his eyes and smirked, understanding your intentions. You sounded as tired of him as you were.

“I’m...”.

“Bored, I know. What about you go entertain Pete? He looks equally, if not more, bored as you. And you’re interfering with my work, which I do not appreciate very much”.

“How am I supposed to entertain him? I’m not a clown”, he argued, slightly offended but just wanting to make time and conversation. You sighed.

“Then why do you act like one?”.

“What is that supposed to mean? Is that a midgardian insult I’m not aware of, pancake?”.

“Stop calling me that, it’s not derogative”.

“It wasn’t intended to be deroga…”.

“I’d kill for some pancakes”, interrupted Peter, trying to pull you two out of your quarrels. “Or something sweet”.

“Oh, the kid got peckish. This is perfect; you can go get him something sweet and leave my workspace alone”, you said, patting his back with an exhausted grin.

He rolled his eyes, but walked down to the kitchen looking for whatever could satiate Peter. There wasn’t anything. One would think that a billionaire would have the fridge full of chocolates, wouldn’t you?, he thought, exhausted by the idea of having to actually leave the compound to get him something. Last time he tried to buy something in Midgard, he accidentally paid three salaries to the workers in the name of Stark. He was so embarrassed, he said it was on purpose and called it an act of mischief. But it was, in fact, pure and raw unawareness of midgardian’s use of money.

“What about we bake something, Mr. Loki?”, proposed Peter, with a flaming interest in seeing what those magic hands could do with food. You chuckled, pretty sure they could do nothing; he had been a prince for over a thousand years, when could he have learnt to bake by himself?

Loki lowered his gaze, confronted with both thoughts of his companions, and their respective expectations. Truth was, you were right. But he couldn't disappoint the kid like that, he had to at least try. Peter's eyes shone brighter than ever, and you wondered if Loki was actually enjoying his company. They looked fine. And, finally, you had some space to work without distractions.

“In normal circumstances I’d reject you, spider boy, but since y/n seems to be about to hang me by the neck on the tip of the tower, might as well do this”, he said, stealing a glance at you and smirking.

“It’s an honor you decide to spend your last moments baking with me, Mr. Loki”.

“Sure, let’s go, child”.

“I’m not a child”.

“Alright”.

And just like that, they left the working area and moved to the kitchen. Both rooms were connected by a huge glassless window and a counter, so you were able to peep in and make sure they didn’t actually burn down the compound (which was the only rule Tony had) and work peacefully at the same time.

After what seemed like an eternity, they still couldn’t accept they were failing miserably, and kept stirring the mix in a bowl. Flour formed clouds around them as Peter sneezed it away, and Loki’s hair had some cream on his (now not so) impeccable hair. Peter laughed at Loki’s commentary and poor baking skills, and Loki playfully mocked how his stickiness wasn’t helpful at all.

“Have you ever baked before, Mr. Loki?”.

“I haven’t but I’ve seen people bake, I figured I could imitate them”.

“Your mum, right? I used to bake with my aunt May a lot, but just now I realize maybe she was doing everything and I was eating the dough by her side”.

“That sounds more like it”, he chuckled. The mixing bowl trembled in his hand as he got distracted by the flying eggs coming at him, and it slipped out of him, smashing near half the mix onto the floor. “Oh, fuck”.

“It’s fine, we can use the one that’s left!”.

“Your positiveness astonishes me, spider boy”.

“Spider man”.

“Right, apologies”.

“We have already put in the flour, the sugar, the eggs, the milk… What else is in the recipe?”.

“I’m trying to remember, let me see”, he closed his eyes and muttered to himself “they used cinnamon, I think. And maybe butter? Yes, and chocolate chips”.

“Who?”.

“Ah, this recipe isn’t my mum’s. She didn’t bake either, you know, Queens don’t get their hands dirty” he laughed. “It was my companion’s”, he spat and suddenly realized what he had said. He lowered his head and sighed.

“Your companion?”, asked Peter. “As in partner? A spouse?”.

“Not spouse, just… you know, I’m just realizing I shouldn’t be talking to you about it”, he brushed it off, absolutely regretting it. Because Peter, unlike any other person, lacked filters.

So he would ask and ask and not realize where to stop. And at that point you could say Peter had become some sort of a weakness in Loki’s roughness. Peter was the softest, purest and better intentioned person he had ever met (or at least that’s how he saw him; of course, Loki had never seen him in action, fighting crime), and Loki was incapable of actually denying things to him. It didn’t matter how much Peter insisted on not being seen as a child, Loki was a thousand years older.

“No, please do. Now you’ve caught my attention”, he insisted, trying to clean some of the dough from the floor. Loki sighed, watching how the kid begged him to tell him more from his feet. “Please, Mr. Loki, I swear I won’t tell”.

“Well, my lover was the one who used to cook for us”, he explained as if he was telling someone else’s story. He clearly was trying to disengage his own emotions in order to tell them out loud. “And they’d usually bake some kick-ass cinnamon cookies”.

Peter had to grab the counter to steady himself from laughter, and you couldn’t help to snort at the conversation you were indiscreetly eavesdropping. Loki smiled.

“Then we have to replicate them, if they’re so kick-ass to make you say a midgardian expression”.

“We must, but I can’t remember quite well the next steps. It’s all sort of a blur now”.

“Can’t we ask them?”.

“No”, he said quickly. The air tensed, and untensed as fast as he realized. He especified again, trying to sound less affected by it “we can’t”.

“Oh”, Peter sounded so disappointed, Loki’s heart broke a little. “Are they dead?”.

“Oh my God, Pete, you can’t just ask…”, you intervened, trying to save Loki from further discomfort.

“It’s okay, they’re… well, they’re gone”, he said with a soft voice, raising his eyebrows as who tries to explain to a little kid why their fish is upside down, leaving to the imagination the typical trace of sadness that would follow. His eyes focused on the mixing bowl, reminiscing another time, another way. Eyes of someone who tries his best to never forget the little details from someone who’s not here anymore, because memories are all he has left. He immediately snapped out of his thoughts and tried to play it cool. “But guess who’s not gone? This dough on the floor. Let’s clean it up, kid”.

“Gone as in dead?”, insisted Peter, who had a very poor self control. You would’ve grabbed your face with eight hands if you could.

“Peter, don’t…”.

“Yes, they’re dead. Inside a coffin, rotting, getting eaten by worms. You know”, said Loki, this time jokingly, trying to scare off Peter. But it didn’t work, since Peter just kept asking about it. Loki was already too tired of having to take his brain yet again to places he didn’t want them to be.

“I’m really sorry, Mr. Loki. Must be very painful”. The empathy in his eyes gave Loki the hint that he was not only being sincere, but curious about Loki's life. Interested, engaged. Not just morbidly curious, but wanting to get to know him better. Unfortunately, Loki couldn’t allow that. He would have to get the mission done, not make any friends, and go back to Asgard as alone as he came. It was the deal, the price he had to pay, the invisible handcuffs, the imaginary rope tying around his neck. Tightly, tightly, tighter.

“It’s alright, it was long ago”.

“Was they Asgardian, like you?”.

“I’m not actually Asgardian. I was raised there, but I’m from Jotunheim”.

Loki managed to move the conversation further than his lover (which he regretted highly to have brought the subject in the first place), and Peter got more and more interested in confirming how many of his mythology stories were true or not. The kitchen was the warmest place in the whole compound, and something started to smell like burnt sugar.

“So you did actually make Sif, Thor’s wife, bald? And did he make you go get her a wig in Svárthelfeim?”, he asked at the speed of light, and Loki laughed.

“Lady Sif’s not actually Thor’s betrothed. And no, I didn’t make her bald”, he said, and then muttered “she just happened to have a very low quality shampoo”.

“Ah, the cookies!”, Peter turned off the stove and took them out carefully, as to not get burned (again).

Loki peeped through the window to check on you. Your head, laying tiredly over your hands, seemed to be about to give up on you out of exhaustion. You haven’t slept properly since the mission started, and you couldn’t get your head off work for a moment. He approached you from behind and left a fresh cup of coffee and a couple of warm cookies by your side. You smiled at him gently and thanked him. If it wasn’t him you were talking about, you could’ve swore he blushed.

You have gotten so tranquil after one simple gesture, you hoped to get all your nerves down before going to sleep. Maybe it wasn’t that bad to have been stuck with them in the compound. They seemed to be having a good time, and Loki had nothing on his mind more than to have a rest after such hectic days.

“How long until you finish there?”, he asked with a low voice, a raspy, almost groany voice, that made you want to shut your computer down and throw it out of the window. You didn’t, instead, you checked your clock.

“Very soon, I’ll join you guys in a bit”.

[devilsskettle]

okay i want to shut up about fear street more than anyone else wants me to shut up about fear street but i just thought of another reason why it drives me up the wall thinking about how underutilized and underwritten ziggy is in the 1994 part of the plot line: in a movie series where one of the main themes is cyclical forms of violence and trauma, where there’s a focus on characters resolving the conflicts of their narrative parallels from the past, even if the writers didn’t expect the audience to identify with/care about ziggy as an adult, she is a representation for our protagonists of their potential futures.

for sam, this is pretty clear, since it’s the narrative reason why they go to her in the first place (seeing the witch and temporarily dying, she represents the hope that there’s a way to break the curse).

for josh, she is a perfect parallel to the stakes for him of trying to save sam - losing his older sister as she sacrifices herself to try to save the people she loves. i was actually surprised that these characters didn’t sympathize and identify with each other more, like in the mall scene when josh is like “too many people have died i’m not going to let them take my sister too!” and ziggy and martin just stand there like. okay i guess. that was such a weird writing choice to me lol i was like why wasn’t that a moment for ziggy to identify with him as someone who lost a sister like this. make it make sense. (also i’ve seen some people say that in interviews, it’s been said that cindy and alice are meant to parallel the relationship between sam and deena, so i think that would situate ziggy and josh as playing comparable roles in each plot line as well).

for deena, i think she’s the most apt reflection of her potential future out of all three main characters. first of all, they’re the most similar in terms of personality: cynical social outcasts convinced the world is fucked who actually care a lot more than they let on. and again, she is living the consequences of what the stakes are of trying to break this curse. the main risk for deena isn’t that she might die, it’s that everyone she cares about will die and she’ll be trapped alone in a town she hates, just like ziggy. 

this would also mean that adult ziggy would play a similar role to the kids in 1994 as nurse lane did for her in 1978. like. god. do you ever think about how nurse lane was the one person who was nice to her and cared about her, and ziggy was the only person who noticed that something was wrong and she was the only one who didn’t write her off as crazy and violent like her daughter when she attacked tommy and instead actually sympathized with her, but no one believed nurse lane, and then no one believed ziggy about what really happened during the camp nightwing massacre, and how they both had to live not only with the loss of their loved ones but also the doubt and mockery of everyone in town who thought they were just crazy. anyway. ziggy similarly is the only adult in town (other than, eventually, martin) who believes and is willing to help the kids in 1994 at the expense of her own safety, just like nurse lane tried her best to protect the kids at camp at the expense of her own reputation (and if she had succeeded in killing tommy before he became the nightwing killer, she would probably have spent the rest of her life in jail or a mental institution, which she had to have known - so she also was willing to sacrifice her freedom, and as ziggy puts it, ruin her own life. god i am sad about this)

oh and also the motivation of ziggy to help these kids in the first place (we assume) comes from a place of self identification with them and trying to save them in the same way she wishes she could’ve saved her younger self and her sister. so like. i want to see that play out in part 3 if that’s the intended interpretation 

so going back to the focus on resolving the conflicts of their narrative parallels from the past, the kids do this for ziggy, cindy, and alice as much as they do it for sarah fire and hannah miller. sam does this…. just by surviving lol, josh does this by not only believing in the curse but also unrelentingly telling others the truth about it (and miss queenofairanddarkness actually seems to believe him), and deena does this by breaking the damn curse and (presumably) becoming less cynical and self-defeatist in her world perspective. and ziggy does this for nurse lane, effectively warning the kids about the dangers of the curse and helping them fight it, where nurse lane was unable to stop the events of camp nightwing, and (as we see at the end) giving her closure about the death of her daughter. she also, i think, plays the same kind of parallel role to sarah fier as deena does in different ways, both as a social outcast who is scapegoated for other people’s wrongdoings as well as her relationship with nick reflecting the relationship between sarah and solomon. like deena and sam, she also is connected by sarah by bleeding on her bones and seeing (some of) the truth about the curse 

anyway. all this is to say that these movies had the potential to do this effectively, and i’m not even saying that they should’ve set aside a huge amount of time from the plot to explore this concept, but there’s small, easy changes and additions that i think could’ve been made that wouldn’t ultimately change anything about the movies but would’ve made such an impact on the overall quality of the writing. first of all, there’s this big time jump from ziggy’s story to the 1994 “present” which is fine and expected and i wouldn’t expect them to try to include a whole lot about what her life is like in between, but we don’t know anything about her present day life, except that she has a dog and a lot of clocks and that she might be an alcoholic. we don’t even know what her job is. we have no idea what she’s been doing for 16 years. it takes maybe two extra minutes at the beginning of her introduction in part 2 to show a little bit more of her daily life, or a line or two to give us an idea of what that might look like. for character development/relationship building purposes, she needs to actually have a conversation with other people lol. she shares how much silent screen time with martin in part 3? another criminally underutilized character but don’t even get me started.

even in the 1978 plot line, her character is established almost entirely by tell-not-show; everyone is like oh she’s trouble! she’s a creep she’s a weirdo! but we see very little of her actually getting up to trouble or doing anything out of the norm (all of the characters in 1978 suffer from this writing problem, to be fair). then in the 1994 part of part 3, the way that they show her reactions to what’s happening is through flashback to her in 1978, and first of all it’s like. we just saw that we know what happened. second, it’s lazy writing! we see nothing new from her basically the entire movie. (i’m specifically thinking about the part where she learns that nick is behind the curse - cut to a series of flashbacks - moving on with the plot. then at the mall, when she sees the tree - cut to a flashback of the camp nightwing - deena comes up to her: “this is it.” “yup.” and she walks away and leaves deena to her own flashback to her sarah fier vision. and that’s the full extent of either of their emotional reactions to that moment. missed opportunity imo. and sure, maybe that’s the character - she’s not a people person lol - but you can write characters who are closed off and blunt while still being interesting and emotionally compelling and not basically stock characters. 1978 ziggy and deena are actually both examples of this so i’m mainly disappointed because i know they could’ve done better lol) 

anyway. i’m not saying they needed to derail the main plot to make ziggy the main character or anything, i’m just saying that with better pacing and attention to her as a character, i think these movies could’ve had the depth and emotional resonance they were aiming for and in fact it would strengthen the themes that are central to the main plot and the protagonists without having to change anything major, making a small shift that could’ve made these movies go from mediocre and forgettable to actually pretty damn good. anyway netflix call me i have ideas for you <3

[notfunnydean]

Pairing: Dean Winchester / Castiel Warnings: None Word Count: 2.574 Challenge: @sqz-zine Summary: Castiel loves his flower shop more than anything, but lately he can’t stop thinking about a customer. So he sends him flowers and hopes Dean gets what he’s trying to say. Link (if posted on AO3): https://archiveofourown.org/works/31529894

“Dean, come on!”

Castiel looks up when he hears the small bell above the door of his flower shop. There is a tall man standing in the door, with long hair and a deep frown. Castiel looks back at the flowers in his hands, puts them down and then wipes his hands on his apron.

“Yeah, Sam. Chill.” There’s a different voice and then another guy steps into the small shop. Castiel’s heart beats a lot faster at that sight. This Dean looks like he is straight out of a disney movie. Green eyes, dark blond hair. Freckles.

Castiel swallows.

“Hello, can I help you?” Castiel is surprised that he is still able to talk. The taller man, Sam, turns to him with a small smile, while Dean just stares at him. Castiel feels a bit uncomfortable.

“I’m looking for a nice bouquet for my wife.” Sam explains and he smiles at Castiel. That’s like Castiel’s easiest request. They already got some bouquets ready, but some customers wanna decide for themselves which flowers they put inside.

“Sure thing, you got anything special in mind?” Castiel asks him and he walks around the counter. Dean seems not super interested at all and is already on his phone. Castiel tries not to be disappointed.

His job isn’t to flirt with customers.

“Well… a year ago Eileen and I got married, so… I got something special planned for tonight.” Sam says and he looks so in love while he says that. Castiel feels himself smiling at that. Love must be so nice.

“Oh congratulations. Well what do you say Eileen likes? Maybe something traditional like roses or something more wild?” Castiel asks, but he is already picturing a beautiful bouquet in his head.

“How about something like that?” Sam says and he points at the purple hyacinth. Castiel raises his eyebrows, he understands that they look indeed very beautiful, but Castiel speaks the language of the flowers and…

“Purple Hyacinths. They do look very nice, but they stand for mostly sorrow, so I wouldn’t really recommend them for this.” Castiel says and he sees how Sam’s a bit surprised by this.

“Oh well no, that is not what I intended. She just loves purple.” Sam stutters out, but Castiel just smiles. He likes the color purple as well.

“Flowers have meanings?” Dean asks suddenly and Castiel almost jerks, because he hadn’t realized that the other man came back towards them again.

“Uh yeah, it’s the language of the flowers, I learned all about it when I opened this shop.” Castiel says and Dean looks really surprised, but also actually interested.

“Cool. I only ever knew about red roses meaning love.” Dean says and then his smile turns so beautiful, that Castiel has to blink a few times. Dammit. He’s really not good at flirting.

So he just nods and then goes over to some other bouquets. He has some really sweet purple and white combinations that he is pretty proud of.

“So here we got white jasmines, which mean sweet love or amiability. white clovers they mean ‘think of me’ and purple sorrels, which stand for affection. I know they’re not fancy, I do like more natural bouquets and…” Castiel starts to ramble, but Sam stops him before he embarrasses himself even more.

“I love it, it looks very beautiful.” Sam says and Castiel smiles thankfully at him. He takes one of the prettiest of the bouquets and carries it to the check-out when Sam says that he doesn’t need anything else.

While Sam pays for his flowers, Castiel can see that Dean stands at some lovely sunflowers and carefully touches their petals. The sunlight just hits him beautifully and Castiel’s heart squeezes.

He does seem interested in the flowers.

“Do you want some flowers as well?” Sam asks, when he finished paying and Dean is still looking through all the flowers. It’s clearly meant to be a joke but Dean shakes his head and he does seem a bit sad.

“Nah, not like I ever got some. Why start now?”

They leave shortly after.

Castiel can’t get the thought of his head all day. He wishes he could buy flowers. He looks back down at Sam’s contact info that he had left here for any future purposes and nods to himself.

Maybe he should be brave for once. So he calls Sam.

*

“Uhm hello?”

Castiel looks up from his work and his heart almost jumps out of his chest, when he sees that it’s Dean. Oh no, hopefully he hadn’t known that Castiel sent him the flowers.

“Hello Dean.” Castiel says and then bites on his tongue. Oh yeah so not creepy that he knows someone's name after being in this shop one time.

“Hi uh I know this is probably super unusual, but my brother bought a bouquet of flowers here like two weeks ago and you two talked about how flowers… mean something?” Dean says and he still has his hands behind his back.

“The language of flowers.” Castiel says and Dean nods.

“Yeah that and I… Well yesterday I found some flowers in front of my door. They uh got delivered and I wondered… if you could explain to me what they mean?” Dean says then he puts the flowers on the counter that Castiel had sent to him.

“These are white camellia.” Castiel says and he carefully touches the flowers. Castiel had used the most beautiful ones he had.

“And what do they mean?” Dean asks and he takes them back into his own hands. Castiel loves the soft smile on his face, even though he seems a bit nervous as well.

“You’re adorable.”

Dean actually ducks his head and Castiel can see how he blushes right in front of him. It makes his freckles stand out even more and Castiel’s chest squeezes almost painfully. God, Dean is so beautiful.

Castiel would be lucky to have someone like him.

“Uh- thanks.” Dean says and then his eyes widen almost comically. Castiel tilts his head to one side, because he is not really sure if he understands what’s happening.

“Oh my god, sorry. You mean that is the meaning of the flowers.” Dean says and he strokes his own hair, looking so incredibly embarrassed.

“Well yes. But you are adorable.” Castiel says and he has no idea why he’s so brave. Normally Castiel would rather die than admit something like that. Dean’s shy smile is worth it in the end.

“Thank you.” Dean says and he presses the flowers closer to his chest before he leaves Castiel’s shop. He almost stumbles on his way out.

Castiel hums happily to a nonexistent music all day.

*

“Hiya Cas!”

Dean looks happy today, when he opens the door to the shop. The last weeks Castiel had sent him flowers each tuesday and on wednesday Dean would come over and they’d talk about the meanings.

He doesn’t seem to know that Castiel is sending him these, but maybe it’s better this way. Dean is far out of his league.

“Hello Dean, how are you?” Castiel asks and he puts his watering can down. He had a busy day, but he would always make time for Dean.

“Good, thank you. I got new flowers.” Dean says and he grins so widely. Castiel loves to see him so happy. Dean had told him more than once by now how much he loves flowers and that most people would probably look weirdly at him for it.

“I can see that. They do look very beautiful. Gardenia. They stand for secret love.” Castiel explains and Dean’s eyes widen.

“You actually think they love me?” Dean asks and he seems so utterly surprised that Castiel’s heart aches for him. He had learned soon enough, that Dean thinks he isn’t worth anything. especially so much trouble.

“Yeah.” Castiel answers only and he can hear his own heartbeat throbbing loudly in his ears. God, Dean has to be the most oblivious person in the world, because he just smiles so happily again.

“So uhm… how is your garden working out?” Castiel asks because it’s spring and his own garden at home looks really bad. Castiel almost has never time to look after his own flowers at home and his garden is really small, but his landlord is an asshole anyway.

“It looks really good, thanks to you Cas. I planted so many camellias.” Dean says and he winks at Castiel. Camellias were the first flowers Castiel had sent Dean, but he hadn’t known they were Dean’s favorites.

“Camellias are truly beautiful.” Castiel agrees and he hopes one day his garden can be as beautiful as Dean’s one day.

“Why don’t you come over some time? I surely could use a professional opinion on them.” Dean says so casually, but Castiel knows him good enough by now to tell that he’s nervous. Castiel smiles.

“Dean I would love to.”

Castiel knows that Dean doesn’t mean this as a date, but he still couldn’t be happier. Of course at first Dean’s looks had caught Castiel’s eyes.

But the way Dean seemed disappointed that he’d never gotten flowers before, had made Castiel send him flowers.

And he had learned so fast what a sweet person Dean really is. He loves his brother Sam and his wife Eileen and he would literally kill anyone that talks back about his little nephew Jack.

Sometimes Dean spends hours talking about his own dreams. Having kids of his own, settling down, and having someone with him.

Castiel would give everything to be that person.

*

A week later Castiel walks through the streets with a new flower bouquet in his hands. This time they are pink camellias, since he knows now that Dean really loves those.

They mean ‘longing for you’ and that couldn’t be more true. Castiel knows he should be happy that he and Dean are already good friends, but he can’t help but long for something more.

He sighs.

Tomorrow he would officially meet up with Dean at his tiny house. In reality Castiel visits this house for over three months by now to drop off his flowers. He knows when Dean works at the garage by now, so he can easily leave his flowers at Dean’s doorstep without being seen.

It’s raining a bit today and Castiel is glad that Dean’s door is roofed over, so the bouquet wouldn’t be ruined by the time that Dean comes home.

Castiel can’t help but smile, when he sees Dean’s house. It looks so beautiful, he can’t really see the garden from the streets, only a huge apple tree that grows a bit over the roof, but he knows it will look stunning.

Like always he kneels down at the blue front door and puts the bouquet down.

There’s a noise inside.

Castiel’s heart stops.

The door opens.

“Hiya Cas.”

Castiel isn’t sure how he manages to stay conscious, but he slowly looks up to see Dean leaning against the doorway.

“Hello Dean.” Castiel answers slowly and he gets up again. He leaves the bouquet on the ground and he can feel the heat rising in his cheeks. Oh my god, Dean had seen him. Dean knows.

Castiel swallows loudly.

“Oh are those camellias again? My favorite! What do these one stand for?” Dean says and he acts like nothing unusual happened. Castiel needs a moment to find his voice again. Maybe this is a trick?

“Longing for you.” Castiel barely whispers.

“They’re beautiful and I just got the perfect spot for them.” Dean says and with that he turns around and goes back inside his house. Castiel isn’t sure what he should do, but then Dean is already calling for him.

Castiel steps inside and carefully pulls off his shoes, since he had seen that Dean is only in socks as well. He walks towards the door Dean vanished into and sees it’s the kitchen. It looks just like Castiel had imagined it.

Cozy and warm and so full of love. It smells like the apple pie that Dean had set on the counter. And right in the middle of the table, Dean has an empty vase and puts the flowers into it.

“Dean… I don’t think I really understand.” Castiel admits carefully and finally Dean turns back to him. At least he doesn’t look angry or disgusted. Maybe they could still save their friendship.

“Well I’m not the only one with uh… secrets. I know it’s been you for a while now.” Dean admits and he takes a step closer. Castiel feels so embarrassed. Had he been this reckless and stupid?

“Oh.” Castiel mutters.

“Sammy couldn’t hold his big mouth.” Dean says and Castiel chuckles weakly at that. While he had enjoyed gifting Dean flowers and crushing on him, Castiel had never thought about what would happen if Dean knew one day.

“Dean, I’m sorry… I didn’t…” Castiel starts to explain this somehow, but Dean stops him.

“Wait, I uh got something for you as well.” Dean says and he is out of the room again. Castiel hopes he wouldn’t get his ass kicked now, but Dean comes back with another bouquet.

“What?”

“Well obviously I’m not very good at the language of flowers. This is the only meaning I know.” Dean says and then he pushes the red roses in Castiel’s hands, who has a hard time believing that this is really happening.

“I love you.” Castiel whispers more into the flowers than to Dean. The roses are in his shop’s wrapping paper so Dean must have bought it when Castiel wasn’t working, but his helper Samandriel was.

“Yeah I know it’s a bit forward, but I really like you and I thought…” Dean starts but Castiel shakes his head. This time he makes a step forward towards Dean and puts the roses on the table.

“No, I mean, I’m in love with you, Dean.” Castiel says and it actually feels good to finally say it. Dean looks like he’s tearing up and for a split second Castiel thinks he has said something wrong, but then Dean is already kissing him.

Castiel closes his eyes and finally kisses Dean back. His hands find Dean’s warm cheeks and he forgets about the world around them.

When they break the kiss Castiel can’t help the huge smile on his face. Dean’s eyes flutter slowly open and Castiel presses another short kiss to his lips.

“I aloe you very much.” Dean says like the dork he is and Castiel snorts. Well he had known right from the start that Dean is adorable. Castiel would even bet that Dean had practiced this.

“While Aloes stand for affection, they could also easily stand for grief.” Castiel says and Dean groans.

“No, you don’t get to ruin my brilliant joke.” Dean says, but he is laughing and Castiel can’t help but laugh himself. He had never pictured himself this happy.

“It wasn’t that brilliant.” Castiel says and Dean looks so scandalized that Castiel laughs loudly. God he knows why he fell in love with Dean.

“Okay, then I really lilac you.” Dean says and Castiel groans.

“Lilacs stand for…” Dean presses a hand over his mouth and Castiel can’t help but chuckle again. Maybe they’re both the worst.

“Maybe we should stop talking.” Dean whispers and pulls his hands away. Castiel has to admit that he really likes that idea.

He kisses Dean quiet.

[peaceofflights]

Wonder Boy

Rated: T just to be safe. Yes it is based on “We Can Be Heroes” but it’s definitely not intended for kids (no surprise). 

Pairings: Miracle Guy x Reader

Warnings: Language, a lot of cursing. Use of the word god as a curse if you aren’t into that. References to sex. 

Word Count: 3,200

A/N: I wrote this because I realized I could only find one Miracle Guy x Reader fic and I kind of find that unacceptable. This is set before We Can Be Heroes which is why their kids aren’t mentioned. This isn’t beta read because I have no friends, you've been warned. 

If someone had told you three months ago that you’d be strutting around town in a pair of cowboy boots and Daisy Dukes with the fucking Miracle “Wonder Boy” Guy himself you’d have laughed in their face. But this wasn’t two months ago. And here you were ludicrous attire and all sitting in some shity ass diner with the unofficial Heroics man whore.

The job sounded great. Well… not great great, but when you’re in your twenties with no hospitality experience and a new apartment with rent more expensive than your car you’ll take anything. It’s not like you were clueless, you had a plan, well originally. No one is stupid enough to move across the country without some type of plan to make money. Living with your sister seemed like the obvious choice. She was responsible, reliable, and If she was able to get married and buy a house in California she must know what she’s doing. It all seemed to be working out until she told you her very exciting news, she’s pregnant. It’s not like she told you to leave, but you got the hint that maybe it was time to start looking elsewhere for somewhere to live. That’s how you ended up here. Barely six months into living in a new state, working at a country bar. God, do people in California even eat barbecue?

It was your second week on the job, first week working alone. Of course being the new kid meant that you got the worst shifts. Afternoons. Who the hell was coming to a bar at twelve in the afternoon? Losers and sad sacks, that's who. Depressed unemployed bastards that were hoping for any sort of human interaction, and creepy douchebags coming in on their lunch breaks hoping to see a little more than denim when you bent down to pick the old straw wrappers left on the floor. You’d put him in that category.

He walked in like he owned the place, tall, blonde, handsome, all the things you weren't looking for. Too much like your ex. The last thing you needed was another blonde with a god complex looking to “fix” your admittedly fucked up life. He was followed in by a shorter man, if only by a few inches. With skin a warm honey color and coiffed hair falling in front of his glasses he could have stopped a room if he came in on his own, however he hadn’t and was now following behind the other admittedly cocky looking individual.  

The room buzzed with a quiet murmur of whispers between employees and guests alike. The previously dead atmosphere was now filled with electricity. Damn, were you missing something? You knew you were new, but was there some type of spectacle you just didn’t get? No matter, if a man walks into a room with that kind of confidence he was either a big tipper or a pompous asshole, and you were about to find out.

“Hey darlin’”

And you got your answer.

Just smile, be nice. Flirt a little. Bat your eyes and hope for that great big tip.

“Wonder Boy.”

Fuck.

He scoffed, laughing a little and clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Actually it’s-”

“I don’t really care.” You smirked sarcastically. “Wonder Boy suits you fine.”

His friend laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. Damn he was handsome. The kind of person who doesn’t realize just how beautiful they are no matter how many times someone tells them. Wonder Boy on the other hand, he knew. Fuck he knew. He probably has never been turned down once in his life. He could probably spit on most girls and they’d say “thank you very much let’s do it again some time.”. It’s not like you couldn’t play that part. Giggle a little, laugh at his jokes and be handed that crisp fifty that’s probably worth more than the actual bill.  He probably kept it just waiting there in his wallet for a moment just like this, or maybe his underwear because man, was this guy into himself. But who were you kidding, you weren't gonna play that game. Brutal honesty ran too strongly in your DNA, and you had already spent one too many nights in the two weeks you’ve worked here flirting with sixty year old men who were too occupied staring at your tits than to look at your face. Really you were just helping him in the long run. If you didn’t teach him that women were people, who would?

“And what can I get for you dear?” You smiled warmly directly at his friend.

That did it. His face dropped for a moment, before replastering on his cocky grin.

“So what’s a pretty girl like you working here for?”

“Money.”

“Hilarious.”

He smiled before putting his hand lightly over left arm that was leaning on the table. You put on your best seductive grin, batty your eyes before answering. “Oh I know, practically a comedian.”

“Oh really? Why don’t you give me your number so I can put that statement to test.”

This was your moment to lose. You leaned your body in close to the table before whispering in his ear, “No.”.

His smile immediately dropped, instantly replaced by a face of confusion. He leaned back in his chair laughing awkwardly shaking his head at you as if you were kidding. However, before he could ask you any questions you responded to what you imagined was running through his head.

“Because women don’t want to be hit on at their place of employment. Which you would have known if you didn’t have the ego of a prized stallion and took the hint when you sat down. “

Well so much for that tip.

*

*

*

You were right. He tipped you two dollars, on a fifty-three dollar meal! Fucking asshole. When he walked away his friend sweetly slipped a ten into your hand claiming his friend had just never been turned down before. No surprise there. So a week later when the pair turned up at the bar, to say you were surprised would be an understatement, you were fucking flabbergasted.

You hadn’t noticed the two walk in right away until your coworker Kelly loudly whispered that Miracle Guy was at their bar. Who? She attempted to sigh at you but her excitement made it come out as a breathy giggle. You petted the mousy blonde’s head attempting to calm her down, about to tell her she could wait on the guy when you heard a familiar voice.

“Hey darlin’, I was hoping you were working today.”

My god that man was exhausting. You swore he was going to be the death of you, and after your previous encounter you figured it would be the last. You felt like you were going to go insane, however regardless you put on a brave face and turned around to address him.

“Wonder Boy, oh good you’re back.” You emphasised sarcastically, waving in unenthused jazz hands for good measure. “My section is that front left corner, so if you choose to sit anywhere else you won’t have to deal with my snarking comments.”

“You know Miracle Guy?” She whispered in a voice you assumed she thought was a subtitle tone. You weren’t about to explain to her it wasn’t and he and his friend could very clearly hear her. She was nice, if not a little ditzy. Honestly, it just gave you more questions than answers anyway. Who was Miracle Guy and why was he a big fucking deal? Ignoring her excitement you decided playing it nonchalant was the best move here. And by nonchalant, really more annoyed and dismissive.

“Yeah, he was here last week. He ordered the spare ribs. He’s kind of an a-” You turned as you talked to her, only to him sitting in your section a smirk on his face and his hand waving oh so dramatically at you. Game on buddy.

*

*

*

“Aren’t you concerned that your red meat intake is going to lead to heart disease?”  

“Aren’t you concerned that you haven’t had a day off in two weeks?”

You two had been playing this game every day for weeks now, man this guy even came in on his days off. Marcus, whom you had learned his name, stopped coming after the first week of everyday constant bickering. Leaving you and Miracle Guy (something you refused to call him) to duke it out on your own. It was almost fun, something you would of course never tell him. Now that he learned to give a decent tip you looked forward to seeing the hotshot blonde every day. It was almost like having a friend, something you relied on.

“If you must know I picked up a few extra shifts. Not everyone is a millionaire superhero who can afford to eat at this fine dining establishment everyday.”

Your comment through him off guard forcing the laughter came out of his mouth in one strong blow. Taking not only the oxygen from his lunges with it, but also a wapping mouthful of silvia that got shot across the table like a model rocket. His laughter refused to subside as his intake of air was canceled by a generous amount of coughing.

You looked around the room for something to give him, but ultimately ended patting him on the back in a motion you knew was in fact not helping.

“You need to stop making me laugh when I’m trying to breathe, that’s just common courtesy.”

“Damn you’re right, I won’t speak anymore.”

He flopped onto the table dramatically, letting his arms reach the end purposely avoiding his drink. “Thank god! Finally some peace and quiet.”

You smiled and rolled your eyes, settling into the light atmosphere. This had become your new normal, and you were okay with that. It was easy, lighthearted, and made working at a dive bar just a bit more bearable.

“Go out with me.”

The whole room went black, and for the first time you didn’t know what to say. In fact you couldn’t say anything. Your mouth felt drying and unusable. You stood there staring at him for a minute, maybe ten you weren't sure. Finally as the swirls behind your eyes began to fade you swallowed the lump in your throat. You paused after you began to speak realising that nothing was coming out. It was now or never. You closed your eyes counting to ten in your head before you answered.

“No”

“Okay, wait what?”

For the first time since he had walked into your bar you saw his facade crack. No longer confident Wonder Boy with a fake puppy dog pout. Or even the hotshot Miracle Guy with smugness written across his face just waiting to unleash his next comeback. It was like the first day relived, but ultimately worse. What did you do? You knew you were known for putting your foot in your mouth, but never have you told a flat out lie. To who? Miracle? Yourself? You had to fix this, you had to say something to fix this situation. Any was better than this. You just had to tell him the truth, after all it was your distinct quality. For better or for worse you were brutally honest.

“You’re a great guy Miracle, honestly you are. I know there are a ton of girls that want to go out with you.” The room went black. “they just aren’t me.”

Looks like there’s a first time for everything.

*

*

*

The weeks seemed to pass by slowing. Everyday in the same skimpy uniform waiting for your shift to end. You’d love to say that the job had just gotten more dull, but that was a lie. You knew exactly what was missing, and it just so happened to be a cocky blonde with a shit eating grin.

Working with Jack was nice. He was funny, approachable, and everyone seemed to like him. Unlike Kelly, he had a good head on his shoulders. However, if there was one thing to know about him, and was that Jack spoke his mind. All. The. Time. It didn’t matter who he was speaking to or who he was around, he would be telling it like it is.

“Hey, your hot regular is back.”

Your head whipped around so fast only too see fucking Marcus Moreno walking in the front door. Of course you liked Marcus, really you did,  but he wasn't who you were hoping to see.

“That man is so fine.”

“Jack!”

“You should shoot your shot before some else does.”

You ran over to slap him in the arm. However, despite wincing he couldn’t stop laughing at you.

“All i’m saying is that you couldn’t stop talking about how cute he was after the first time he came here. And clearly he’s not back for the food, I mean if you play your cards right he might be eating something later.” He stopped to grab a notebook from your hands that you were about to hit him with before continuing. “You know what we say around here, save a horse, ride a cowboy. If you aren’t going to let me take a turn, it’s a crime to waste that fine ass.”

Before you could probably scold him, he gave you a wink and shoved in Marcus’ direction.

“Hey Marcus, what can I get for you?”

“He misses you.”

It would be so simple to pretend didn’t know who he was talking about. You could play dumb and end this conversation just as quickly as it began. It would be easy and guarantee you being home in an hour watching endless reality reruns with your dog, eating slightly freezer burnt ice cream.

“Marcus-”

“I don’t know what you said to him, but it really broke him. He’s been quiet, and you and I both know that’s not normal for him. I asked him to lay low on a mission the other day, and he did it. Miracle, “Mr. My Face is On Toothpaste”-”

“Yeah I can’t believe I missed that.”

Despite the serious situation he let out a snort, running his fingers uncomfortably through his hair. “I think you’re the first person I’ve met in months that didn’t already know exactly who I was.” He gulped. “And I think that’s the point. Miracle has never had a woman not falling at his feet when he’s shown the slightest interest.”

“So what? You want me to apologize?”

Your fight or flight response seemed to be kicking in. Because you couldn’t exactly walk away right now you instead relied on your second instinct, defensiveness.

“No, I’m not asking you to apologize. Let’s face it you could do a lot better than Miracle.”

“Tell me about it.”

“No, seriously. You’re smart, funny, you could do a lot better than him. But I’ve never seen him like this about anyone. By just coming to see you everyday he’s become a lot less of an asshole, and for a while I was genuinely concerned that would never be possible.”

It seemed like he was gearing up for an uplifting speech. It was no surprise that he was the Team Leader of the Heroics; he seemed like the type that gave them a lot, but you weren’t in the mood to hear it.

“Look Marcus I’m really not-”

“I’m not asking you to apologize. But whatever you said to him I was hoping maybe you might want to reconsider.”

Man this guy was smart.

“You already know what happened don’t you?”

“I’ve pieced some of it together.” But the look on his face said it all. He knew everything.

“He’s been hanging out at that diner a couple blocks down in case you were interested.”

Team leader was good.

*

*

*

And that’s how you found yourself at a sketchy diner at half past eleven dressed like a cowgirl from a 1970’s PlayBoy. He was sitting in a booth in the furthest corner of the restaurant, dressed in a black t-shirt. He had a chocolate milkshake in front of him that seemed water down like it had been sitting for a long time, but was still completely filled. His normally clean shaven face was replaced by the beginnings of a mustache.

“So is shitty dining establishments just your thing then?”

“You look good like that. Nice to see this uniform in fluorescent lighting.”

His tone was light and carefree, but you couldn’t help but notice how his smile didn’t meet his eyes. He looked fine, good even. You didn’t know what you were expecting, him to be a crying mess? It almost hurt that he wasn’t. If you didn’t look too hard he was the exact same Miracle Guy dreamily smiling on all the billboards and magazines… not that you had been looking at them. But he wasn’t. Marcus said that he was different because of you, and the way his eyes no longer sparkled made you hope that was true. Maybe you hadn’t missed your chance.

“Marcus came into my bar today.”

You figured that the best choice was to just be honest. Tell him how you felt. You tried to plan out what you were going to say to him during the three block walk over, but in this moment you didn’t seem to remember any of it.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. He’s not into dudes right? Because I think my coworker is totally into him- you know what it’s unimportant. He said something and I wanted to know if it was true.”

You waited for him to answer, say something, but he didn’t. So you decided to just ask. “He said that you’ve been different since you met me, is that true?”

He nervously fixed his hair. You’ve noticed over the past couple months that he doesn’t run his fingers through it like Marcus does when he’s anxious, he fixes it. Afraid to be seen with anything out of place, afraid to let his guard down or his facade drop.

“I don’t know what answer you’re looking for. Am I supposed to say yes? Is this some type of test where I answer correctly and then you slap me anyway?”

“Will you go out with me?”

You did it. You were on cloud fucking nine. It’s like the world was shitting rainbows and unicorns just for you. All he had to do was say the word and the moment you’ve been replaying trying to fix in your head for weeks would be complete.

“No.”

Wait.

What?

What the actually fuck?

“I’m sorry?”

“I’m just kidding. Not so nice when someone does it to you now is it?”

You hated him. You actually fucking hated him. But as you scooted in next to him in the booth you knew everything was going to be okay. He gently started to pet your hair as you put your head on his shoulder. This is the moment you had been waiting for.

“You are the worst, I hope you know that.” The words may be harsh, but you both knew there was no real venom behind them. As he softly pulled your chin up to look at him you smiled. “I missed you Wonder Boy.”

“So how does this work, do I lean in first? Do you lean in first?”

“I thought you were supposed to be good at this?”

“I mean I am, but if this is my only chance with you I don’t want to screw it up. I can take my pants off now if you think it’ll be easier.”

Oh god. What had you gotten yourself into?

[emmy-writes-sometimes]

Missing You

You’ve been having some trouble with yourself during the pandemic. Fortunately, your boyfriend is there for you every step of the way. Title inspiration: Missing You by All Time Low. Written for @ssebstann‘s writing challenge! 

Pairing: Chris Evans x female reader

-

“Sweetheart?” You heard Chris say as he leaned in the door frame of his room, crossing his arms. He was wearing a pair of sweats and a white t-shirt that was a little too big, but his hair had been fixed and he’d obviously been awake for a while. You squirmed in bed a little and turned over to look at him. He saw you and sighed, noticing that you hadn’t been sleeping. You'd just been laying there, staring at the wall. 

“Hey,” you said quietly, yawning as you sat up. 

“You feelin’ okay?” He asked, walking over to you and putting a caring hand to your forehead. You nodded. 

“Yeah, just tired,” you lied. He smiled at you, ruffling your hair. 

“Just checking. I’m gonna go get our groceries, I’m just getting a pickup. When I get back I’ll start on dinner, alright?” You nodded again, kissing him, and then he left. 

That was the same kind of interaction you’d been having for weeks. He’d asked you to quarantine with him and abandon your apartment, even though you’d only been dating for six or seven months. He knew that you were going through a rough time, and he didn’t want to take the chance of not being able to see you for an indefinite amount of time. So you’d agreed. But soon enough, he’d lost his bright, bubbly girlfriend. You’d been replaced with someone he didn’t know how to help, no matter how much he wanted to. 

You’d lost your job about a week into all of the pandemic stuff, and you constantly checked for your unemployment checks that just weren’t coming. Chris was having you do little things for him here and there to keep you occupied, like having you do some of the social media for ASP, but even that came crashing to a halt when the launch was delayed. You had a family member die and there was no funeral to go to and you couldn’t just fly to your hometown anymore. 

You acted like you were fine and everything was normal, but it wasn't. Chris could see it. He saw it in the way you almost never got out of bed anymore, the way you didn’t even try to do your hair or your makeup or wear real clothes even though you almost always did that before. He saw you lose motivation to do literally anything except take a daily shower and eat, and as you started gaining weight from it you only became more insecure with your body. You barely let him touch you the way he used to, only because you said you were tired. His heart was absolutely breaking for you, especially when he heard you crying in the shower, but he didn’t know what to do. 

He’d talked you into seeing your old psychiatrist, thinking maybe some medication would help, but you would forget about it most days until he nagged you to the point of tears. He knew it was only a matter of time before you stopped eating or you had a full breakdown. He couldn’t do much, but he could try, and that was what he intended to do. 

He returned half an hour later with grocery bags, knowing better than to expect for you to have gotten out of bed to help. Normally you were more than happy to help. But lately it seemed like you were the one that needed it more, he thought as he unloaded all of the groceries. He walked back up the stairs to see that you were in the same place you were before. Pausing in the doorway, he knew what he needed to do. 

“Babe?” He asked. “You hungry? I’ll make your favorite pasta.” He took his shoes off and crawled onto the bed beside you, pulling your back to his chest even though you were under the covers. 

“No,” you replied. He sighed, reaching over to grab your hand and pull it to your rapidly thinning stomach. 

“What happened to my happy girl, huh? You’ve never said no to pesto pasta.” 

“I’m just not hungry,” you replied. You felt the tears start coming to your eyes and he had a feeling that they were coming too. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. Just eat for me. Please, angel?” You turned toward him when you heard his voice. He was desperate, upset, all because of you. He never called you angel, ever, unless something was wrong and he needed to be easy with you. That made you want to be defiant, to say no, but you couldn’t. You just couldn’t. You laid there for a minute and you let the tears come because it was the only thing you knew how to do. You started crying and he gave you space, removing his hand from yours and starting to rub up and down your side. His lips pressed against the back of your head as he just let you cry. 

“I feel like I’ll throw up if I do.” 

“You only feel like that because you haven’t. Just do this, for me, alright, baby? And then we can cuddle up and watch Peter Pan if you want.” You sniffled and laid there for another minute, limp, before forcing yourself to get up. “Good girl. Come on.” 

You walked downstairs after Chris, hearing Dodger’s tag on his collar as he followed the two of you. You sat down on the couch for the first time in ages, taking your old spot, and Dodger jumped up onto your lap like he knew you were hurting. Chris just went to the kitchen and fixed dinner, moving every so often to get a better view of you in the other room. You had stopped crying, but he had a feeling that this slump was far from over. He was just worried. Worried you’d hurt yourself without even realizing it. 

He snuck up the stairs as the water was boiling to go to your side of the bed. Your pill bottles were empty. So you were taking them, or you had been taking them, until you ran out. How long had you been out? He would’ve picked them up for you if he knew, but... He sighed and walked back down to finish making food. 

You ended up eating every bite he gave you - he made sure not to give you an overwhelming amount, just enough so that you would eat all of it, and sat beside you instead of across from you. He put a hand on your back as he tried to talk to you, just about anything, to get you talking again. You’d been all but silent for days and he just wanted to hear your voice again. His favorite voice. 

“Good girl. Go pick a movie and I’ll clean up here,” he said sweetly, patting your back. You got up and walked back to the couch, sitting down in an almost robotic way. You got better when he joined you and nearly forced you to cuddle up with him. And you fell asleep halfway through the movie, something he wished he could get used to again, in his arms. He kissed you awake, smiling down at you. 

Soon enough the credits were rolling and he sat up a little bit, waking you up, and you turned to him with concerned eyes. That feeling, that pit in your stomach, was starting to form again when you saw him. He just looked so sad to see you the way you were. He looked... disappointed. 

“Are you mad at me?” You asked timidly, refusing to look him in the eyes. Instead you laid your head in his shoulder, breathing in the slightly faded scent of cologne. He started rubbing at your back, shaking his head. 

“No, angel, I’m not mad at you. I’m just worried about you. I’m so worried about you. You haven’t been eating, you’ve barely been sleeping... I saw your empty pill bottle, too, and...”

“I spilled them so I threw them away.”

“You threw them away?” His voice went cross without him meaning to make it that way, earning a flinch. “I’m not mad. I’m not mad,” he assured you. “How long?” 

“I don’t know.” You both were silent for a minute, taking in the weight of what you’d said. You didn’t even know what day it was, what week it was. Hell, you didn’t know if it was still 2020. All you knew was that you were letting him down. Maybe he was better off without you. Maybe he didn’t need you like he said he did. Maybe he just didn’t want to leave you because you were too sad, maybe... 

“Baby, I want you to be honest with me,” he said. “And I don’t want you to get mad at me, because I’m not accusing you of anything. But I just need to know. Are you hurting yourself like this on purpose? Punishing yourself?” You stuttered to form a response, tumbling over your words. 

“Chris,” you finally muttered, tears coming into your eyes before you could stop them. You were mad, you couldn’t help it. You were pissed. “No!” 

Your voice came out like a desperate cry, angry but admitting exactly what he didn’t want to hear. He tried to grab onto you, but you got up first. He followed you, and even though he knew you wanted space, he wasn’t going to let you fall into an even worse place by letting you think. 

“Just sit down!” He said finally, following you up the dark staircase. He re-directed you into his office, and you immediately fell onto the couch in the corner. You were all but throwing a fit, just angry that he would even think you were intentionally hurting yourself. You were, but that wasn’t the point. He was... 

“Why don’t you trust me?” You asked, your eyes brimming with tears. “You’re supposed to trust me?” 

“Because I can’t! I want to, but God, you’re hurting yourself and you’re not answering me. I’m trying to figure out how to help you because you can’t or won’t help yourself.” You looked up at him to see tears in his eyes. he was hurting, maybe just as bad as you were, because of the way you were acting. You were the one hurting him. This was all your fault. All of it. Suddenly you felt more guilty than you ever had in your life and you were standing up, walking over to him and hugging him tightly. 

“I’m sorry,” you murmured. “I didn’t know I was hurting you too. I wasn’t trying to hurt myself, I just was, and I was so...” You stopped talking, not really sure how to say what you wanted to say. He hugged you back, then led you back over to the couch. The two of you cuddled right up together, like you always did, and he rubbed your back with his hand to calm you down before a storm could start. For some reason, you didn’t want to cry it out. You just wanted to lay there, in his arms, and be at peace. 

“Baby, you’re hurting yourself. So much more than you realize. And you can’t just keep doing it, you have to admit it and let me help you. Just let me help you, please, baby girl, okay? I miss you. I miss you so, so much. I just want my happy girl back, no matter how much I have to help you heal.” 

“Okay,” you promised, sniffling a little. 

“Just hold on and let me take you on the ride if you’re too scared to get on, okay?” He said to you. You briefly thought about your first trip to Disney together, where he’d said almost those exact words about a roller coaster you were scared to go on. He’d helped you get over it then and he was helping you get over this now. 

“Okay.”

“How about we go get some of those one dollar plates from Walmart and we throw ‘em in the backyard? Or we can paint one of the walls black? Or we can get in the car and I’ll play your favorite Taylor Swift album and you can sing all the words?” You shook your head, feeling the way that his stomach was moving up and down with each breath. 

“I just want to be right here. With you. Is that okay?” You asked. He moved a little until he could grab the blanket that you would sometimes use if you napped while he was working. He spread it out over the two of you and let Dodger jump up until the three of you were in a big pile of cuddles.

“It’s always okay.” 

[bittercoldbrew]

Okay, so technically To Build Something New is complete and finished and I’m totally not even supposed to be working on it anymore, but this has been a shitty week and I decided to write a little something sweet and then I sort of got....carried away........ So yeah anyway, here’s a little over 4k of Ezra x f!OC, a sorta kinda epilogue to Build Something but I tried to leave things vague so it could also just be read as a standalone. No warnings, just an embarrassing amount of fluff. Enjoy! (pssst, also, I ended up writing a follow-up to this, which you can find here)

Sleep has never come easily to him. Even as a child, Ezra remembers being plagued with nightmares so often and for so long that he wouldn’t even bother waking his worn and weary parents, would simply fetch himself a cup of water from the kitchen and flip through his favorite books, gazing at the pictures and tracing fingers over words he couldn’t yet read, until sleep finally returned to him.

The woman in bed beside him is no stranger to such restlessness, and certainly is no distant, frightful parent best left unbothered. If he were to reach out a hand to her shoulder, if he were to call her name, he knows that she would wake willingly, eager to help him talk his way out of whatever trouble his overactive mind has conjured, or to simply sit with him in silence until the tension passed; she would give him whatever he needs, even if he himself doesn't know what that is just yet. It is no lack of love, given or received, that stills his hand and shuts his mouth, but rather an abundance.

Her thoughts are scarcely any kinder to her sleep schedule than his, and these past few months since her parents came and tried to upend the life she's built have not been easy ones. She certainly owes as profound a debt to the god of sleep as he does, and he simply cannot bring himself to disturb her now that she's begun to repay it.

With a sigh, he eases himself out from under her arm and up from the bed, moving slow and careful, as quiet as he can manage, trying not to feel too guilty at the sad, soft noise she makes and the way she curls her arm back into herself with the loss. Some nights, he’s more than content to lay awake beside her even if sleep never decides to make another appearance, grateful for her presence, trying and failing, always, to twist and turn his thoughts into a shape that will allow him to believe this luck that has brought him to her side. But tonight he just needs...to stretch his legs, to move his body, to remind himself that it is, still, somehow, his body, despite all that it has lost. Despite all that it has found.

He moves to the bathroom, passes through it out into the hall, hoping the added distance will prevent the sound of the door from waking the woman asleep in the bed they share. In the darkness, in the quiet, he runs a hand over his face, grounding himself with the familiar sensation of the planes and slopes of his own features. Still his face. Still his hand, even if he only has the one of them, now.

It seems instinctual, the way his feet carry him to the door across the hall, the way his ear finds itself pressed to the cool wood. He won’t bother her, won’t risk disturbing the sleep of the teenager inside, but the low whisper of the white noise machine that he can hear is enough of a comfort. Cee adjusted to planet life far faster and more completely than he has yet to manage; but even though the members of this little family all came from such disparate backgrounds, they are bound together by the act of having chosen one another, as well as by their shared insomnolent tendencies. The teenager needs this facsimile of the rumble of a ship’s engines to be able to achieve anything like sleep. Ezra himself has attempted the same, but found the noise only gave his brain something to latch onto, a reason to stay wakeful and wary, a stark contrast to its intended purpose.

Hearing hers, though, is reassurance enough that the girl is having a better night’s rest than he is, and he is grateful for that small blessing as he leans away from the door and sidles down the hallway on quiet, bare feet, mindful of all the places that creak, mapped out in his muscle memory over the course of many such nights. He crosses the front room, passes through the kitchen, until finally he steps out onto the back porch and into the cold, clear night.

The sky out here, so far from the city center, is resplendent in its beauty, a breathtaking array of stars and galaxies. Despite his many far-flung travels, there are still so many worlds to visit, still so much to see, and he will never grow weary of the sight.

It's a little too cold for stargazing, especially dressed as he is in nothing more than a patched and faded pair of boxers; but the way the air prickles against his skin and in his lungs feels almost refreshing, for now at least. It makes his racing thoughts feel sluggish, and that is certainly worth a little chill.

Sighing, he steps forward and leans against the railing, letting his eyes trace out distant constellations and star systems, scrolling through his mental catalogue of those he's visited and those he has yet to. He's picking out the faint whorl of the Ephrate when he hears the door slide open, and a sweet and sleepy voice asks, "Ezra..?"

He should have known his absence would be enough to wake her. The woman he loves is the galaxy’s most notorious blanket thief, after all; even now, the evidence of her crimes is wrapped around her like a cloak, the excess fabric bunched in her hands and clutched against her collar. Often, it’s only the warmth of his body in the bed beside her that keeps her from descending into wanton lawlessness—or, at the very least, a sleeplessness of her own. It is a rare night indeed that he can leave her side for much longer than it takes to visit the bathroom and return, before the chill is enough to wake her.

She steps forward, head down, eyes scarcely open and only to keep herself from tripping over the blanket as she draws near and leans her body heavily against his. He wraps his arm around her back and does his best to hug her close with only the one, trying not to feel so profoundly guilty at the thought of how difficult it must be for her to sleep when he’s gone so long for work.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs into her hair—an apology for tonight, and also for all those nights she spends without him.

But she only shakes her head, resting her cheek against his bare chest, just below his collarbone. She stands so tall and imperious in his mind’s eye that he forgets, sometimes, how little she is, and he is grateful for moments like these to remind him.

Her voice is thick with sleep, her breath warm against his skin, as she asks, simply, “Chocolate?”

He sighs and holds her closer, wondering if he knows a single word that might be able to encapsulate how it feels to be loved by her. Beloved feels too pedestrian, too obvious. Cherished, maybe. Harbored.

He needs to consider the possibilities more carefully, but later. For now, he merely shakes his head, begrudgingly declining her generous offer. “No, I’m alright. Just needed a minute, clear my head.”

She hums softly, and the gentle vibration of it against his chest feels planet-shaking in this quiet night. “Already put it on,” she admits slowly, sounding only marginally more awake than a moment ago. “Drink some anyway?”

Sustained? Is that the word? “With you? Of course.”

The wordless noise she makes in response is pleased, contented, and for several long, precious moments she merely rests against him and lets him hold her in the dark, unhurried and unafraid in his presence.

She’s so still for so long that he notices the slight movement of her cheek, the twitch that means she’s had to blink away a notification from her optical implant, the timer she must have set for the milk warming on the stove.

“I’ll get it—” he starts to offer, eager for some way to repay her kindness, but she moves quicker than he imagined she’d be capable of right now, pulling away and whirling the blanket off her shoulders and around his with a flourish.

“No,” she declares, in that tone of voice that always makes his brain go silent and his body stand to attention, willing to do whatever she requires of him without question. But the only order she gives is, “Keep this warm for me,” passing the corners of the fabric into his grasp, and he is certain to obey as she turns and heads back inside to the kitchen.

With a sigh, Ezra takes a step back and rests against the wall of the house, hiking the blanket up a little higher as he waits for her return. He finds himself wishing Aphelia had a moon, something to make the nights a little brighter than this; the lack gives them such a clear, glorious view of all the stars and a few of the other planets in this system, so he supposes he shouldn’t complain. But it would be nice to be able to see the garden from here, to make out what birds those are calling such sweet songs among the trees at the edge of the property, to better decipher the nuance of his partner’s expression when she steps back outside a few minutes later with two mugs of cocoa in her hands.

It requires a good deal of shuffling and muttered apologies, but eventually they find themselves sitting together on the floor of the porch, propped against the wall, the blanket drawn across them both, sheltering them from the chill of metal sheeting at their backs. She is nestled at his side beneath what remains of his right arm, and she rests her head on his shoulder as they both lift mugs to their lips.

He makes an indisputably better cup of coffee—mainly because she is too impatient in the morning, content to throw a packet of bland, dehydrated nonsense into hot water if it means she can be caffeinated quicker, only willing to wait for something better if it’s Ezra who does the brewing. But her hot chocolate is a wonder, a marvel, worthy of all possible veneration, and even though he’s watched her make it time and time again, he has never managed to determine what it is she does to make it so spectacular. The beverage in his hand tonight is perfectly warm, nutty and aromatic, decadent and sweet without being cloying, with just a hint of spice. One sip, and he can feel whatever this restlessness is that’s been holding him in its vice begin to ebb away into a gentle sleepiness.

“Thank you, starlight,” he sighs, and he hopes she knows that he means all of it—not just for the chocolate, but for the blanket and the company and the understanding, for her willingness to love him with this love that encompasses all of his very many faults rather than existing in spite of them.

She doesn’t say anything in response, simply turns her head and presses a feather-light kiss to the side of his neck, and he feels certain that she does know. Especially when she turns back, and gestures with her mug in the direction of the sky. “It’s a hell of a view. Thanks for not letting me miss it.”

His breath leaves him in a rush, and he rests his cheek against the top of her head, feeling bowled over by his affection for her. That hadn’t remotely been his intention, and even if he had merely wanted her to see the stars, she could get just as lovely a view from bed, through the skylight, without having to shiver out here on the cold floor with him. But he loves that she would offer this pretense, that she would look at something he’d done to stave off his idiotic insomnia and turn it into an experience for the two of them to share.

Transformed, perhaps, is what her love makes him. Because he isn’t entirely sure who this man is that he’s become, or where all this sappiness came from. He certainly had no need for it on the Green, nor in any part of his life before he first answered the siren song of aurelac.

If he’s honest with himself, though, he’d begun to see the first signs of it before he even met her, before he endured the loss of his dominant arm and thus found himself needing to rely, from time to time, upon the kindness of others. He’d noticed it in his unwillingness to leave Number Two behind after the rest of the crew split and ran; and then again when he’d first met Cee, when she’d used up the single capacitor of that old Boscelot rifle and he, who had killed so very many times before, had been wholly unable to throw a shot her way.

His lover had seen right through him from the first, had detected those loose threads in his psyche, those barest hints of a gentleness he’d long stifled. She had tugged and pulled them loose, had unraveled the cold and unfeeling shell that he constructed around himself, until all that was left was just...him. Minus an arm, and a good portion of his dignity, and any belief he’d once had in his ability to command his own fate.

And she had looked at whatever was leftover after all that loss, and had chosen to love him anyway.

“Oh, look,” she gasps, and he straightens up and follows her gaze, finding the trail of light streaking up from the horizon, a distant ship clearing the atmosphere.

“Leaving from the 12th Sector docks, I reckon,” he tells her absently, his brain automatically calculating the distance and direction for him while he simply takes a long draught of his quickly-cooling cocoa. “Where d’you think they’re headed?”

She hums thoughtfully, brow creasing in thought, her eyes tracing the arc of their ascent and extending upward. He’s been trying to teach her and the kid—trying to not be a pedantic asshole about it—how to find landmarks in the night sky, how to navigate by constellations and planets and stations. Mostly, he’s just trying to teach them how to keep themselves safe if, Kevva forbid, he ever isn’t around to do the job. Not that he thinks them lacking in competence—each of his girls is cleverer than him by half, he knows that, and together they leave him in the dust. But this, at least, is a skill of his that they do not share, and he hopes to impart a little something of it, just in case they ever need it.

“From 12, at that angle, this late in the year...” she says slowly, thinking aloud. “I bet they’re headed for the Pug.”

“I bet you’re right,” he agrees, grinning. “Do you see it?”

She narrows her eyes, an adorable little pout to her lips as she looks for it; her natural eye’s a little farsighted, but her implant is designed for close work and magnification, and he knows that discrepancy means this sort of thing doesn’t come easy for her. But that just makes it all the sweeter, when she gasps and smiles and points and says, “There it is.”

He just sits there, staring at her and the way the starlight dances in her eyes and highlights the lines of her face, for so long that she turns to him with a curious—and then bashful—look on her face.

“Hey,” she scolds, nudging him with her elbow. “Tell me I’m right.”

“You’re right,” he says automatically, and she scoffs and elbows him again. With a laugh, he tears his gaze from her and turns to look. “Sorry, sorry. Show me again?”

She does so, and he leans in close, following the line of her arm and her outstretched finger to the familiar, pulsing glow of Puggart’s Bench. “There?”

He dips his head, presses a kiss to the skin of her arm, just past the end of the short sleeve of her sleep shirt (one of his shirts, initially, though at this point she doesn’t sleep in anything else and he’d be offended if she did). “Perfect,” he tells her—because she’s correct, yes, but also because she is perfect, in his estimation.

She smiles in a way that makes him think she understands his double meaning, and says, “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he says, and kisses her, and her mouth tastes like chocolate, and he doesn’t imagine there’s anything better in all the universe.

But then she lifts a hand to curl along his jaw and the tips of her fingers are like ice, and he pulls back in surprise and sets his mug carefully aside so he can grab her hand and hold it in front of his mouth and breathe a little heat against her fingers.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were freezing, baby?”

"I'm not," she argues, even as she curls closer into the warmth of his body and tugs the blanket tighter around her shoulders, because she is, at her core, a woman of unmitigated stubbornness. "My hands are just always cold."

"Not this cold," he huffs, clenching the offending fingers in his own. "We should get you inside."

She shakes her head sternly. "I can stay out here as long as you want me to."

She has told him this before, way back when they scarcely even knew each other. Then, as now, she had been struggling to keep her eyes open. Then, as now, he had known she meant every word.

"What I want," he tells her, turning to kiss her temple, speaking the words into her skin, "is to hold you in bed for a while."

If he's honest, that's all he ever seems to want these days.

She smiles, and nods toward his mug, reaching for her own. "Finish your cocoa, first," she says, as though that is the entire reason they're out here.

And he does—because it's delicious and he doesn't want to waste it; because it's what she told him to do.

He would give her his left arm, the only one he has remaining, if she told him to.

They sit there, quiet and close, while he finishes his drink and waits patiently as she finishes hers. Then, leaning on each other for support, they make their way to their feet and back inside the house. He keeps the blanket around his body as she rinses their empty mugs and leaves them in the sink, then trails along behind her as she leads him back to their room.

Together they spread the blanket back overtop of the bed, tucking it in at the foot even though they both know she’ll have managed to drag it to her side by morning. Smiling at the thought, Ezra pulls up the covers and gets in, instinctively turning over on his right to reach for her—but she isn’t there yet, still standing next to the bed, watching him. It’s too dark to really make out her expression, but he can feel her eyes on him. “Baby?”

She doesn’t speak, just goes and walks around the bed. He turns, twisting at the waist to watch her as she lifts up the covers and...slips in behind him. She puts her arm around his chest, twines her legs with his, moves her free hand up to bury her fingers in his hair and scritch lightly against his scalp, and he groans out her name and all but melts back into her soft body.

“Is this okay?” she asks after a moment, her breath fanning against the back of his neck. He wants to answer, to tell her this is so, so much better than merely okay, but his chest has gone so tight that all the air in his lungs seems to have lodged in his throat instead. He settles for a nod, the drag of her short fingernails on the back of his head just delicious with the movement, and he knows she must be tired and will need to be asleep soon but he wishes she never had to stop.

“I know you said you wanted to hold me,” she murmurs, her voice so soft and sweet, “but I thought this might be...nice.”

“I...” he starts—or tries to, but his voice falters, and all the words he typically can rely on appear to have fled him. “Yes,” he sighs simply. “It’s very nice.”

“Good.” Her lips press a delicate kiss to his shoulder, and his breath leaves him with more of a shudder than he’d intended. “You gonna be able to sleep?”

He covers her hand with his and draws it up higher along his chest, where her fingers gently trace the line of scar tissue just below his sternum. “I hope so,” is the best answer he can offer, because even though he feels so fucking good being held by her like this and even though he can feel the exhaustion tugging him even deeper into the mattress, he knows better than to count on his mind to be cooperative.

She hums softly, and he can feel the bridge of her nose and the curve of her forehead against the skin of his back as she presses her face against him, settling in. “Okay,” she breathes, and he can tell she’s nearly asleep again already, can merely hope he’ll join her shortly. “Wake me if you get up again, okay?”

“You have work in the morning,” he reminds her, squeezing her hand, already feeling guilty for disrupting her rest as much as he has. His schedule isn’t nearly so demanding—he could stay in bed all day if he needs to, could make up the hours some other time—but she has people who rely on her, people who aren’t him.

But she just clicks her tongue against her teeth dismissively, shakes her head. Her fingers leave his hair for a dreadful moment, but only so she can reach down and tug the covers up higher (already beginning her nightly larceny, though she’s pressed so close to him that Ezra, too, may get to benefit from it tonight). “I’d rather be tired at work than not know where you are.”

It’s a simple thing to say, but he knows how much she means by it. He’s well aware of the anxieties that plague her, of the way she worries when he’s gone, of how his job and its need to drag him far away from her for long stretches of time wears at her until he’s with her again. As much as he wishes he could make all of that go away, wishes he could offer her a gentler life than this one, he knows such a thing isn’t really possible out here in the Fringe, knows they’ve come much closer than most. Still, at least he can offer her this.

He picks up her hand and lifts it to his lips, presses kisses to her smooth, soft skin. “Go to sleep, starlight. I’m not going anywhere.”

“‘Kay,” she murmurs sleepily, and he can feel her smile against his back as she shifts around, tightening her arm around him, hugging him close. “Love you, Ez.”

“Love you too, sweet girl.”

In the morning, when she wakes, he is going to make her the best goddamn cup of coffee she’s ever tasted. He will swaddle her in blankets, will weight her down with so many of them she can’t ever leave their bed, she’ll have to just stay in it with him forever. He wonders how inappropriate it would be for him to ask Cee if she would spend the night at a friend’s tomorrow, because when this woman gets home from work he’s going to need to lavish every inch of her body with affection, to prove to her again and again and again how desperately he loves her, how thoroughly he needs her, and he doesn’t imagine he’ll be able to be quiet about it even with the kid home.

It’s in these last lucid moments before sleep finally pulls him under that he realizes this night, this moment, this blissful press of her body along the length of his own with her arm curled possessively around his torso is exactly the word he's been looking for. Maybe it really is as simple as that: she makes him feel held.

[the-sympathetic-villain]

You Belong With Me - Chapter 28

AO3 | First | Previous | Next | Masterpost

Description:  Much to his surprise, after being released from prison for a crime he  didn’t commit, Logan has been appointed as a the prince’s new advisor.  

Word Count: 6540

Chapter Warnings: Angst, Effects of poisoning, Overstimulation, Mentions of abandonment

-

     “He’s home, L.” Virgil mumbled into his shoulder.

     “What?” Logan glanced down at Virgil and swallowed anxiously, watching his friend struggle to walk down the narrow path. He gripped Virgil tighter, unsettled by how gaunt Virgil had become on the short walk from the castle.

     “He's—” Virgil inhaled with a pained hiss and his legs gave out. Logan stumbled, barely keeping both of them standing as Virgil’s weight dropped out beneath him.

     “Vee!” Logan breathed out urgently as he came to a stop. He wrapped his free arm around Virgil's chest to keep him upright. “Are you okay?”

     “Hey—don't worry, L. I'm okay.” Virgil smiled faintly up at him as he regained his footing. “Just hurts.”

     Logan’s chest ached with guilt as Virgil slurred his words with exhaustion. “I'm sorry, Vee. I should have—”

     “Don’t you dare apologize to me, L.” Virgil growled as pointed down to the path. “Patton’s house. He's there.”

     “Sure thing, Vee.” Logan whispered slowly, taking a long breath. Emotion swelled in his chest. Despite his current condition, Virgil still insisted on keeping an eye out him and that kindness was truly beyond his comprehension. He shook his head, trying to refocus. “Why’s he home anyway? Shouldn’t he be working in the greenhouses today?”

     Virgil hobbled along in silence for a moment before he letting out a loud sigh. “He's upset with me, L. We fought last night and he decided not to go into work today.”

     “What? Why?” Logan stopped in his tracks, his mouth hanging open.

     “That's why I was late this morning. Gods, what a shit morning to be distracted,” Virgil let out a breath as his face fell. “but I can't sleep for shit when he's mad at me.”

     Logan frowned, hanging his head as they started to move forward once more. He stared down at Virgil's sad eyes as he hobbled down the path. He'd never seen Virgil looking so despondent. Virgil was always so composed and it broke Logan's heart to see his friend in pain. “Why's he upset with you, Vee?”

     “I—” Virgil groaned, clutching his stomach in pain. “He's—he's right to be mad. I fu—I messed up, L. I've been keeping secrets that weren't mine to keep.”

     Logan squeezed him tighter, as they reached the stairs to Patton’s house. “I'm certain that Patton will forgive you no matter what happened, Vee. He doesn’t seem to be the type to hold grudges.”

     “It's—it’s not Patton that needs to—” Virgil mumbled, wheezing as he tool each step. They paused at the top of the stairs as Virgil caught his breath. “I'm sorry, L. Not now. We'll talk about this in a minute.”

     “Of course, Vee.” Logan put a hand  on Virgil’s chest, steadying him from both sides as his friend swayed, eyes closed as he nearly lost consciousness. “Whatever you need. I'm going to make sure you’re okay.”

     “I know, L.” Virgil looked up at him with a tired grin. “We’ll figure it out together.”

     Logan nodded seriously, watching Virgil fade in his arms as he clung to him side. He held his friend tightly, supporting him as he reached up to pound on Patton’ door. He took a long breath, holding his hand to Virgil’s chest as he listened to Patton moving on the other side of the door.

     Finally, the door popped open and Patton’s head popped out. His face scrunched in confusion “Lo—”

     “Hey, Pat."

     Patton's eyes widened as he caught sight of Virgil hanging off of Logan's are

     Virgil eyes fluttered closed as he leaned into Logan, but he continued speaking calmly. "I know you’re mad at me and all, but I could really use some help with—"

     “Virgil!” Patton didn't hesitate to rush toward him, sweeping Virgil’s arm over his shoulder as he helped Logan lift him. “What happened to you?”

     “Got hit with a minor dose of poison—” Virgil grunted, limp in their hands as they pulled him through the door.

     “What kind of poison?” Patton pressed, carefully glancing down his friend's fading expression.

     Virgil chewed his lips nervously, fighting to think through the haze in his mind with a sigh. “I don't know.”

     “So, you don't actually know if the dose was minor—” Patton chided. Logan couldn’t help but notice the edge in Patton’s usually chipper voice.

     “Well, I'm not dead. Am I?” Virgil muttered as they lowered him into the chair.

     “Don't joke about that, Virgil!” Patton scolded him harshly and Logan could see Virgil flinch at his tone.

     “Patton,” Logan whispered. “Perhaps now is not the time to increase Virgil’s stress more than is necessary.”

     Patton paused, looking down at Virgil. His head was bowed to his chest as he forced deep breaths and his muscles were tensed as the unknown substance flowed through his body.

     “You’re right,” Patton smiled sadly, kneeling down beside Virgil and brushing his hair out of his eyes. “Sorry, kiddo. I just don't like seeing you in pain and not being able to help. Poison’s aren't my specialty and if we don't even know what kind it is—"

     “Wait—” Logan interrupted as realization hit him. His friends stared at him in confusion as he started fishing through his pockets and carefully pulled out the small dart Remus had dropped earlier. “—Yes. We do.”

     Virgil's eyes focused for a moment as he stared at the dart with suspicion.  “Where'd you get that, L?”

     Logan looked up at his friends. They stared at him with wide eyes and he dropped his gaze nervously, closing his hand around the dart. His eyes shifted back and forth between his friends as he considered what he was clearly intended to do. “Remus dropped this at my feet before he left us in the corridor. You were unconscious, Vee, but he—he said he wanted to see if I was more than a one trick pony, which is a stupid phrase. Horses are clearly trained with more than one purpose in mind—

     "Oh, kiddo." Patton reached out to him to reassure him as he began to ramble anxiously.

     "—but perhaps, it is an accurate comparison because I'm entirely useless in this endeavor and—"

     “Stop, Lo. It's going to be okay.” Patton hushed him as he stepped toward him. Logan could feel a slight tremor in his lip as Patton gently touched his arms. “We're going to figure this out.”

     “Pat, he wants me to do the same thing I did for Roman,�� Logan clenched his hands and gritted his teeth bitterly. “but I can't do it. I don't know how I did it the first—”

     “Hey, Lo.” Patton held a hand out gently, watching Logan's hand carefully as he slipped a leather glove off the desk next to Logan. He smiled gently at Logan as he pulled on the glove and held his hand out.

     Logan looked down at his white knuckles clenched tightly around the dart. He shivered, gently loosening his grip on the dangerous weapon. His muscles went limp with a new wave of panic as Patton took the dart from him. “I don’t know, Pat. I just don't know."

     “Good job, kiddo.” Patton whispered as he examined the dart. “ Now, Lo. Slow down. What don't you know?”

     “I don't know how to fix this, Pat,” Logan whispered as he caught a look at the beads of sweat forming on Virgil’s forehead as he shivered violently in the chair behind Patton’s shoulder. Logan dropped his gaze, ashamed of his own incompetence. “With Rom—" Logan's breath stopped as Roman's name passed his tongue and he had to stop and take a breath before continuing. "—W-with Roman, I knew as soon as I had the dart in my hand. There were complex procedures with precise measurements I needed to be sure the antidote was safe—" Logan glanced at the dart in Patton's hand bitterly. "—I don't know anything about this one, Pat.”

     “We're going to figure this out, Lo.” Patton put a hand on Logan's forearm. “You, me, Virgil and Roman are going to—”

     “Not Roman.” Logan interrupted abruptly, sucking in a breath as he crossed his arms across his chest.

     “What?” Patton paused, looking up at Logan. There was a long pause when Logan didn’t respond and Patton tensed, glancing back at Virgil. “What happened to Roman?”

     Virgil groaned, leaning forward in his chair. He propped his elbows on his knees  holding his head in his hands. “They've got princey, Pat. The fae that took Logan kidnapped him this morning.”

     “What?!” Patton straightened. “ What happened, Virgil?! Why didn't you—”

     “Patton, please—” Virgil whispered breathlessly. “Please—I can't handle you being mad at me right now. The king is looking for Roman. I promise I made sure someone was out for him before anything else—”

     “Oh, sweetie. No.” Patton spoke after a moment and kneeled next to Virgil, reaching a hand to his cheek. “I'm not mad at you. I know things got a little rough last night, but I’m not angry. We're always in this together, Virge.”

     “I did what I could, Pat.” Virgil wheezed between shallow breathes. “I did—"

     “Hey now. I know you did everything you could. You always do so good taking care of us and I'm so proud of you, kiddo.” Patton hushed him with a subtle smile. “Let’s get you fixed up. Okay?”

     Virgil hesitated before giving Patton a quick nod. Logan couldn’t help noticing the sunken look in his eyes as he finally took a breath. “I didn't mean to snap at you, Pat.”

     "You were hurt and I was making it worse. You had every right to tell me to stop, Virge.” Patton whispered with a smile, slipping a glove on his other hand as he looked down at Virgil. “Now, let's get this figured out so you're not hurting anymore. Okay?”

     “'Kay.” Virgil looked up at Patton and Logan could see guilt in Virgil’s eyes as Virgil choked in a strained breath. “Thank you.”

     “You've saved me so many times, Virge. It's about time I return the favor.” Patton smiled as he twisted the base of the dart. The mechanism gave a small click as the dart's chamber opened. He wafted the dart near his nose and a smile spread across his face. “and maybe this is going to be easier than we thought.”

     "What?” Virgil looked up at Patton and for the first time Logan caught his gaze. He shivered, staring absently at Virgil’s dilated eyes. The world fell away as guilt settled into his stomach, seeing the poison's process continuing to take hold of his friend.

     “Logan?”

     Logan blinked, coming out of a daze. He looked up to see Patton staring at him. Straightening up, he traced Patton’s arm down to where he held the dart out to him. He looked up back up at Patton, confused.

     “Smell, but don't inhale.” Patton instructed sternly. “Tell me what you think.”

     Logan eyes the dart suspiciously before leaning into Patton’s hand, letting the scent waft into his nose.

     Wait that's—

     The thought was abruptly interrupted as the overwhelmingly acrid taste hit the back of his throat. His face scrunched uncomfortably and he stuck out his tongue as he desperately tried to force the taste of his mouth.

     “I told you not to inhale, Lo—” Patton chided softly, pulling the dart back.

     “That's hemlock,” Logan choked out between breaths. “but there's something wrong with it.”

     Patton stared at him for a moment before wafting the serum past his nose again. “What do you mean? Hemlock smells awful but I don’t think there’s anything unusual about this sample.”

     Logan stared at the dart for a moment. He flicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, considering his words. “I am intimately familiar with hemlock, Patton. It's the most common poison in the meadows north of the castle. At the apothecary where I worked, I treated cases at least weekly where farmers brought in sheep that had accidentally consumed—”

     “I'm not a sheep."

     Logan abruptly looked down as Virgil’s pained voice interrupted his rambling and a wave of guilt washed over him. Logan crossed his arms and dropped his gaze. “I’m sorry, Vee. I know you’re not, but I'm certain this is wrong. We could—we could hurt you if we make the wrong decision.”

     Patton stood up, moving closer to Logan with a curious look in his eyes. “How sure are you, Lo?”

     Logan hung his head, clenching his hands around his elbows as he felt his breath speed up anxiously. “As sure as I was with Roman. Don't ask me how. I don't know, but I'm sure and I just need you to trust—”

     “Hey, kiddo.” Logan jumped as Patton's hand brushed his arm. “Why don't you take a seat?”

     “I can't—”

     “Sure, you can—”

     “Virgil—”

     “—is going to be fine.” Patton smiled patiently. “I know what we're dealing with and how we can figure this out.”

     “What?” Logan’s head shot up to him.

     “Sit down, kiddo.” Patton gently nudged him backward toward the bed. “We need to talk.”

     “Patton, if you know how to help Virgil, we should be helping him—” Logan resisted, trembling as he looked at Virgil.

     “I am, but I need your help, Lo. To do that, I need you to sit down and listen to me.” Patton smiled warmly at him as Logan finally relented and dropped down to the bed. “Now, I'm going to tell you something that's going to be hard to hear—”

     “Pat, is this really the time for this?” Virgil moaned, clutching his chest.

     “No.” Patton muttered bitterly. "The time for this was days ago when you figured this out, Virge."

     Confused, Logan looked up at Patton’s serious expression before turning back to look at Virgil as he deflated in the chair behind Patton.

     “Pat, you said you weren't mad—” Virgil whispered.

     “I'm not, Virgil. I'm really not. I know you didn't know what to do,” Patton sighed impatiently. "but this can't wait any longer. We need Logan's help and the only way he can help is if he knows what’s going on.”

     There was a long pause before Virgil nodded. “Alright, Pat, but I need to be the one to tell him. I want to make this right.”

     “What's going on?” Logan started to shake as Virgil stood up, groaning as he moved towards them. He sucked in a sharp breath, on the verge of a panic attack as Patton caught Virgil's shoulder, helping Virgil towards him. “What did I do—”

     “You didn’t do anything wrong, kiddo,” Patton smiled at him softly. “and none of this changes anything. No matter what you've heard from any of us. We love you and you always have a place here. You’re family, Logan. Forever. Okay?”

     “Okay.” Logan responded numbly. He stared at his friends and shivered, tightening his arms around his chest as Virgil stumbled his way over.

     A million worst-case scenarios pushed for attention in his mind as Virgil dropped down next to him with a grunt. Logan lifted his head and he could see his friend's muscles were tense from the poison, yet still, as Virgil looked up from the ground, Logan could see his intense focus overshadow the pain as he looked apologetically up at Virgil. “Lo, you got to know I didn’t keep this from you on purpose. I need you to know I trust you completely, but I wasn’t sure until just a few days ago. I—I didn’t want to say anything until I was sure, L.”

     “Say anything to me about what?” Logan glanced nervously up over at Patton as he dropped down on his other side. He jumped as Patton put his hand on his back, not realizing how on edge he was. Patton smiled at him gently and Logan forced himself to relax as Patton rubbed circles into his back.

     “L?” Virgil waited until Logan turned back to him. “That first night after we met and I stayed with you at your place. You had a nightmare and I rushed in to calm you down. Do you remember?”

     Logan bit his lip, eyes flitting over to Patton as a touch of embarrassment burned on his cheeks. “Yes, I remember.”

     “It was storming that night.” Virgil continued, watching Logan's reaction closely. “Like a full-blown storm with lightning and everything?”

     Logan nodded nervously as his friends leaned closer.

     Virgil looked up at him seriously. “At the time, I passed it off as a reflection of the lightning, but, um—that night your eyes glowed, L. They glowed bright blue.”

     “What?” Logan opened his mouth to protest but his throat was suddenly dry and he couldn't seem to force the words out.

     “—and then again, after Remus got into your dream. It was storming and I thought I was catching the light in your eye when the lightning flashed and you needed help so I didn't focus on it at the time—”

     Logan tensed as Patton's hand stopped moving on his back. He slowly looked down at the ground, clenching his hands together as Virgil continued.

     “I didn’t know for sure until a few days ago when Remus dropped you back in Roman's room after they'd taken you. I stayed with you while princey and Patton ran for medical supplies.” Virgil paused, watching Logan’s expression fall. “When that amulet lit up and you got hurt, your eyes glowed. The sky was clear and there was no lightning for me to blame it on this time, L.”

     Virgil's implication settled uncomfortably in his stomach and his head fell to his chest, avoiding his friends' gaze as he felt his hands start to shake. “That's not possible."

     "Listen, L." Virgil flashed him a faint smile, wheezing as he rested a hand on Logan’s shoulder. “After you lit up Roman’s chambers in blue lightning, I think it's pretty undeniable.” 

     “Blue lightning?” Patton stared at Virgil in shock until Virgil smiled and nodded up at him. Patton beamed, gently wrapping his arms around Logan’s waist as he stared numbly into space. “Oh, kiddo. I don’t know how you don’t know, but you're an elemental fae—a storm fae.”

     “I'm not—” Logan shivered, suddenly cold from shock. “That can't be— How can you trust me?”

     Virgil gently reached a arm around Logan's shoulder. "Not all fae are untrustworthy, L. Some of my underground contacts are fae and I'd trust them with my life. Just like I trust you, L."

     Logan's shock was interrupted as Patton’s arms tightened around him. “Lo, this doesn’t change anything. You’re still the same person.”

     “But Roman—” Logan felt his breath catch in his throat as his muscles seized. "Roman said—"

     “Roman was blowing smoke because that bastard hurt you, L. Nothing more.” Virgil’s arm wrapped around his shoulder. “What he said doesn't mean anything. None of us are going to think any different of you, including him.”

     Logan stared at him for a moment before nodding and taking a breath, easing in his friends' arms. Leaning back into their warmth, he blinked. “How could I not know—"

     “I don’t know, kiddo, and we'll help you figure it out later.” Patton squeezed him tightly before sitting up. “but for now, we have to—”

     “I know, Pat—” Logan nodded, trying to shake the feeling of shock as he turned his head to Virgil. “What do I have to do to help him?”

     “The Master Botanist I apprenticed under taught me so much of what I know and she knew more than I think I ever will,” Patton smiled fondly at the memories. “But most relevant, she taught me about the fae. The fair folk are natural herbalists. It's in their blood. In fact, It's nearly impossible to poison a fae because they have an innate sense for the properties of flora.”

     “Get to the point, Pat.” Virgil growled, leaning into Logan. “Now's not the time for the long version.”

     Patton held up the dart and smiled at Logan as he sealed poison in its compartment. “I think his dart is useless. It's a decoy.”

     “What?” Logan put an arm around Virgil to steady him.

     "This is normal hemlock. I'm sure of it, L," He held up the dart. "I think it smells wrong to you, because you're focused on healing Virgil and Virgil was poisoned with something else. This dart was meant to challenge you by throwing you off the trail."

     "Patton—" Logan's hands were shaking as Virgil leaned tiredly into his shoulder.

     “I don't think poisoning Virgil was an attack of opportunity,” Patton paused. “I think that other fae wanted Remus to poison Virgil, so that you would be forced to use your power to save him.”

     “That has to be the poison. If that's not it, it could be anything.” Logan breathed. "We'll never figure it out."

     “No, it doesn’t,” Patton stepped forward. “because you can figure it out without the original poison. He wants you to use your abilities to figure it out on your own, Lo.”

     "Dee—" Logan shook his head, turning to look down as Virgil swayed, eyes fluttering closed on his shoulder. "You bastard—"

     “You need to use your abilities.” Patton pressed him to focus. "I know this is a lot to take in all at once, but you can do it, kiddo. You can save him."

     Reaching up to his chest to steady him, Logan turned sad eyes up to Patton. “I have no control, Patton.

     “You have to try, Lo. Those are the stakes.” Patton bit his lip, gesturing to Virgil. “You have to figure it out or we lose our friend.”

     Logan stared helplessly up at Patton for a moment before nodding. “Okay, Pat. You’re the expert."

     “Just focus, Lo. They wouldn't give you something they didn't think you could handle. He wants you to succeed.” Patton trembled as he put a hand on Logan’s back. “He doesn’t benefit from seeing you fail.”

     Logan nodded nublyly, focusing his energy on Virgil. He reached a hand down to Virgil's face, lifting his head. “Vee? Are you awake?”

    Virgil mumbled inaudibly into Logan’s hand, not opening his eyes.

    “I need you to talk to me, Vee.” Logan spoke slowly and clearly, trying to break through to his quickly fading friend. “Tell me what you’re feeling.”

    “Tired…” Virgil muttered.

    “Good, Virgil." Logan swallowed nervously. "What else?”

    “Hurts—hurts real bad.” Virgil exhaled slowly. “Hard to breathe, L.”

    “Open your eyes, Vee.” Logan guided Virgil’s face up to look at him, but Virgil merely moaned. The lids of his eyelids flittered and remained closed. “Stay with me. I need you to fight it and keep your eyes open.”

    Virgil grunted, prying his eyes open. His fist clenched onto Logan’s shirt from the effort.

    “You’re doing exceedingly well.” Logan paused, staring into his dilated eyes. “I'm going to fix this, Virgil. You’re going to be fine.”

    “I know, L.” Virgil’s words slurred as he faltered, nearly drifting asleep before looking up at Logan. “I know you won't let anything happen to me.”

    “I won't.” Logan whispered, watching as Virgil limply leaned back into his shoulder. Virgil’s breathing started to slow as exhaustion settled in as he settled his whole weight into Logan’s shoulder. “I won't let any—”

    A soft snore from below him sent a sudden chill through his body—

    He can't sleep.

    “Virgil!” Logan straightened up suddenly as the thought echoed loudly in his mind. He reached up to Virgil’s shoulders, lifting him so that he could look into Virgil’s eyes. “Virgil, you have to stay awake."

    Virgil moaned quietly, but his eyes cracked open.

    Logan's grip tightened on his shoulders as he whispered frantically. “Vee, you have to stay awake. You can't sleep.”

    "Kiddo,” Patton slid onto the bed next to Logan. He gaze fell nervously on Virgil’s face, but he kept his voice calm, whispering to Logan. “Do you know something?”

    Logan glanced behind him, feeling himself shake as Virgil swayed. “We can’t let him sleep, Pat.”

    “You’re sure?”

    Logan glanced back at him and nodded before reaching up to support Virgil’s face as his head drooped. "As sure as I was with Roman."

    “That's good, Lo.” Logan could hear pride in Patton’s voice as he put a hand on Logan’s back. “Stay focused on that feeling. What else can you tell?”

    Logan sucked in a breath. Virgil’s mouth hung open as he leaned into Logan’s hand, murmuring quietly. “Patton, I can't—”

    “You can, Lo.” Patton started firmly, but Logan could here a tremor in his voice as he looked at Virgil. “He needs you. You have to do this.”

    Logan nodded.

    He needs me.

    He took a deep breath, turning to Virgil and his eyes dropped down. Slowly, Logan reached down and took Virgil’s wrist in his hand, pressing two fingers against the vein until he could feel Virgil's pulse against his fingertipes. He closed his eyes, feeling the blood move in Virgil’s veins.

    I have to help him.

    The air around him shifted as he took in a breath, catching a bitter scent on the air. He swallowed, disgust evident on his face as he tried to place the smell.

    “Patton, it has a bad smell.” Logan whispered, trying to remain focused. “It's not hemlock.”

    “Good job, kiddo Keep going.” Patton scurried off the bed toward his bookshelves. He pulled a volume off the shelf, flipping through the pages. “Can you be more specific?”

    Logan stuck his tongue out, tasting the air. “It's bad. Like rot—or waste.”

    “What else, Lo?

    The hairs on his arms stood on end as Logan leaned into Virgil. The sound of Virgil’s pulse echoed in his ears and he could feel the poison moving through Virgil’s body.

    Focus.

    The air in the room shifted and he feel his awareness expand. Vibrations course through the air and Logan could feel the world around him. He could hear the quiet chittering of a rabbit chewing on the grass outside. Dozens of scents wafted around him as the Patton's collection of herbs drifted toward him. Logan open his eyes and blinked. The world swirled with colors as scents danced through the air. Colors were brighter and more vibrant as his vision blurred before his eye. There were more colors, more than he could name.

    He nearly closed his eyes when a soft, yellow glow caught his eye. The glow radiated from Virgil’s skin as he stared. Curiously, Logan lifted his hand up, absently moving his hand through the yellow haze. Images floated through his head and he could see the image a small, flower in his mind. The blossom was pale green and shaped like a candlelight flame. Dark green leaves sprouted from the sides and the light-colored petals swept upward to form a protective hood around the small purple stem. Shivers slowly crept down his spine as he recognized the plant.

    Adder's root.

    Adder's root was certainly deadly. A single dose was overwhelmingly powerful and Logan knew even a minuscule amount could put any adult in the infirmary for days, if it didn’t kill them outright within a matter of hours. He knew he should be panic, but something was off. Logan passed his hand through the faint, yellow haze once more and a sudden realization washed over him.

    The poison is diluted.

    His muscles went limp with relief and he suddenly felt exhausted.  He looked up at Virgil as he whispered softly. “It's not a lethal dose.”

    Patton's head spun around to him as he latched onto the desk. “What?”

    Logan sighed with relief and wrapped his arms around Virgil. “It's not lethal. He's going to be okay.”

    A soft groan resonated against Logan’s chest and he could feel Virgil chuckle into his shoulder. “That’s great and all, L, but I still feel like crap.”

    “I know, Vee. I know.” Logan breathed with relief as he released Virgil. “I think I can fix that, too. Patton?”

    Logan looked to him for help but Patton had already swooped in on Virgil’s other side and wrapped his arms tightly around Virgil’s torso.

    “Pat, I’m having enough trouble breathing without you squeezing me to death.” Virgil wheezed with a smile.

    Patton’s grip lightened but he buried his head in Virgil’s shoulder. “I'm so sorry, kiddo.”

    Virgil paused, looking down at Patton. “For what, Pat?”

    “For being a jerk.”

    “Pat—”

    “Virgil, you were hurting and I was awful to you just now.” Patton sucked in a breath. “What if something happened to you?”

    Virgil straightened. His head cleared for a brief moment and he smiled at Patton latched onto his chest. “Pat, you’re acting like you didn’t know Logan was going to take care of me.”

    Patton opened his eyes smiling at Logan as he held onto Virgil. “I knew Lo could do it, but still, knowing I'd been so mean and I wouldn't do anything help you.”

    “Pat, it's okay. You were right to be upset—"

    “No, I wasn’t. Logan had a right to know, but I shouldn’t have blamed you for being cautious. I should have trusted you planned to tell Logan when you were sure—”

    “Pat,” Virgil wheezed with a frown. “Of course, I was going to tell him—"

    “I know now, Virgil, and I should have trusted you. You've never given me any reason to doubt—” Patton sucked in a breath. “If Logan hadn't been here to save you, I could have lost—”

    “Pat, relax.” Virgil smirked, pulling Patton closer. “I'm not going anywhere.”

    “No, you're not.” Patton smiled and took a deep breath. “Now, let’s get you feeling better, Virgil. Logan, what do you need?”

    “Just keep him awake.” Logan could hear the hum of the air around him as his senses flared with a new influx of information. “It's be best for Virgil to remain awake until the effects of the poison start to wane.”

    Logan rose quickly off the bed, glancing back at Patton. “I believe I can craft an antidote suitable enough to alleviate your symptoms until the substance leaves your system. Patton, may I use your supplies?”

    “Of course, Lo. Do you need help finding—”

    “No, Pat.” Logan hummed, blinking as colors shifted before his eyes. Standing next to shelves full of herbs suddenly seemed overwhelming. “I—um, I can see them.”

    Patton looked up from Virgil. “See what, Lo?”

    “The herbs, Pat.” Logan stumbled as a mix of scents hit the back of his throat. He gagged as acrid, bitter smells mixed with other sickeningly sweet scents in sent a wave of nausea straight to his stomach. “The—um, I can see a colored haze of each herb's scent.”

    Patton started to stand. “Lo, are you okay—”

    “I'm fine.” Logan interrupted, waving him away. He looked back at Patton briefly as he swallowed down his discomfort. “This happened last time as well. You just have quite a collection and its overwhelming.”

    “You—” Patton paused, letting Virgil lean into his shoulder as Logan pulled various packages and jars from the shelves. “You started seeing scents as colors in the air and you didn't think that was strange?”

    “More than that, Pat. Everything shifts. My senses are heightened and I can see and feel things I can't usually.” Logan paused, pressing the palm of his hands against his closed eyes as they ached with photosensitivity. I moment later, he forced them open again so he could work, irritated as he struggled with the seal on the package of herbs in his hand. “In retrospect, the pattern is obvious, but at the time I blamed stress. I thought the panic had induced some sort of synesthesia episode. That night I was not in a good place. I was scare out of my mind—”

    “Lo, you don't have to get into it.” Patton ran his fingers through Virgil’s hair, watching Logan grind at the ingredients.

    “I know. Pat.” Logan felt the air hum around him. Closing his eyes, he could feel the vibrations of the world around him, radiating out past the walls of Patton’s hut. A uncomfortable sensation crept across his body as overstimulation seemed to pull at the last shreds of his composure. “That—that’s not what's bothering me. I can rationalize my beliefs that night but—but how could I have been so entirely oblivious the rest of my life? It doesn't make any sense.”

    “I mean, if your parents never told you, how would you ever—”

    “I didn’t have parents, Pat. My grandparents raised me.” Logan resumed insistently pushing the pestle against the mortar as he ground the herbs. “Although, given the circumstances, it's likely they were not honest about my relationship to them.”

    “Stop, L.”

    Logan paused, staring down at his herbs as Virgil’s voice echoed in his ears.

    “Don't do this to yourself.” Virgil muttered breathlessly. “Don't go down that road.”

    “How can I not, Vee?” Logan's shoulders slumped as he resumed his work. Using the flat side of a blade, he began to crush the stems to draw out the small amount of liquid he need. The subtle rhythm slowly eased the tension in his shoulders until he finally sighed. “Everything I've ever known is a lie. No one cared enough to ensure I knew what I was. Even if the people who raised me didn’t know or didn’t care, clearly the people who were supposed to care, my parents, couldn't have been bothered to explain before they dropped like a sack of—”

    “Lo, stop. This can’t help you.” Patton spoke sternly.

    "Help me?" Logan muttered bitterly. “What would help me would be to know that someone in my damn life actually wanted me around.”

    “We want you around, kiddo.” Patton said softly. “Me and Virgil and Roman. We all—”

    “Not Roman.” Logan interrupted, keeping his head down as he turned to walk towards them. “You can't presume to know how he will feel when he learns what I am.”

    “I can, L.” Virgil’s hoarse voice broke the silence and Logan couldn’t help glancing up at him lying tiredly in Patton’s shoulder. “I know princey better than I know myself and you've got nothing to worry about, L. I'd stake my life on the fact the you being fae changes nothing in his eyes.”

    Logan paused, looking up at his friends as he sat down next to Virgil. “Thank you, Virgil. I appreciate your reassurances. I just—I know how selfish this may sound, but I wish I could hear it from him.”

    “It’s not selfish, Lo.” Patton smiled at Logan, supporting Virgil as Logan turned to face them. “It’s human—” Patton blushed as Logan raised an eyebrow at him. “Oops, I just mean its normal for you to want to know what he thinks, but you don't have to worry, Lo. We all love you.”

    Logan paused. His lip curled into a faint smile as he lifted his head to look at his friends. He shivered as the air around him warmed as the quite hum of his friends' love filled the air. “Thank you, Patton.” He glanced down at Virgil. “Are you ready, Vee?”

    “Have at me, L.” Virgil smirked at him.

    “The taste will probably be quite unpleasant.” Logan smiled at him, slowly mixing the solution in his hand.

    Virgil raised an eyebrow at him. “I thought you hadn't made this before.”

    “I haven’t,” Logan smiled, slowly stirring the solution. “but I can smell it.”

    “Great. Well, bring it on.” Virgil growled, pushing up off Patton. “Nothing's going to disgust me more than seeing that rat bastard's face today anyway.”

    “Fair enough.” Logan smirked holding a spoonful out to Virgil. “One spoonful now and then another in about an hour."

    Virgil grimaced. “Do I have to stay awake for that long?”

    "You seem to be fairly awake at the moment, Vee." Logan tilted his head, looking him over.

    "The exhaustion comes in waves." Virgil muttered in irritation, running his hand through his hair as he swayed gently.

    Logan nodded sympathetically. “After the second dose, you can sleep but it would be best if you could stay awake until then."

    Virgil rubbed his temples in irritation. “I don’t know if I'll be able to do that on my own.”

    “We’ll help, Vee.” Logan reassured him.

    Virgil gritted his teeth and nodded, allowing Logan to lift the spoon to his lips. He swallowed it in one gulp, immediately gagging as he taste swept over his tongue. A retching sound escaped Virgil as he curled over on his stomach. Still tense, he glanced up at Logan. “Start talking, L. If you don’t distract me, I’m going to throw this crap up.”

    Logan froze, suddenly feeling the pressure to keep the conversation moving. “I, um—I don’t know what to—”

    “Figure it out, L.” Virgil groaned, closing his eyes. "I need a distraction."

    Logan bit his lip, feeling his mind go blank as Virgil put him on the spot. A moment passed before a thought crossed his mind. Something to keep Virgil focused. “Actually, there is something I've wanted to ask you, if you’re willing to discuss the topic.”

    “Shoot, L.”

    Logan shifted on the bed, watching his friend. “When I first told Roman about Remus, we needed to keep him silent. You called in a favor with Roman.”

    Virgil’s eyes narrowed in on him. “Yeah, I did. He owed me.”

    “You don’t have to disclose this information if you don't want to, but I am curious.” Logan swallowed, watching Virgil. “Why did Roman owe you a favor?”

    “Years ago, he asked something of me and he didn't have time to explain why he needed me to do it. I could have been arrested, but I did it for him.” Virgil smirked as he swayed, tilting back into Patton’s arms. “The deal was I'd do that for him, but he'd owe me a favor. Anytime and for any reason, I could call it in and he'd have to do whatever I asked of him without asking why."

    Logan blinked. “What did he ask you to do?”

    A smile twitched at the corner of his lips as an unreadable look crept into his eyes. The sight unnerved him, sending chills down his spine. “He asked me to kidnap a kid, L.”

    “What?” Logan froze, staring down at Virgil’s unsettling expression. “Why would you—”

    “Virgil, that's not really what happened.” Patton whispered and Logan let his gaze drift up to Patton's serious expression.

    Virgil shrugged, sliding back so he could lean against the wall. “If I’d been caught, that’s what I would have been charged with.”

    “Roman would never have let you take the fall for his decision.”

    Logan looked up curiously as Patton’s voice trembled.

    “At that point, it was our decision.” Virgil said offhandedly. “We both would have been punished.”

    “It wasn’t a kidnapping, Virgil.” Patton’s voice was filled with thinly veiled emotions and Logan could see his hands shake as he addressed Virgil. “Not when I went with you willingly.”

-

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[koreaweeb]

Marionette - Home (2)

@underc0vercryptid-reads @laraplisetski @omegahighendpro @thooo0t

TW: SWEARING, VIOLENCE, SEXUAL VIOLENCE, SEXUAL CONTENT

-

-

After he was shot down, Chishiya found refuge behind a car while Arisu was hiding behind another just across from him. He really should have made sure that Niragi died back at the hotel. Now, karma was coming back to bite him. 

As he checked his own wound, Chishiya was listening to Niragi rant. He talked about how the three of them present were similar to each other: unable to adapt to society, selfish, no touch with reality yet they desired the real world experience. How sad was his life to be boiled down to a few words?

A battle royale was to ensue between the three, and Chishiya was oddly intrigued. 

Not Arisu, however.

“Stop it, Niragi! What good will come of this?” he shouted. “Stop involving others in your own self-abandonment!”

Arisu’s words struck a chord in Chishiya. 

Self-abandonment...was that what he had been doing this whole time?

All the things he did, he thought it was because he did not care enough but all this time, it was because he was abandoning himself? What exactly was he doing here? 

“I’m just doing what I want to do!” Niragi said. “You two are the same! Whenever you open your mouth, it’s just me! Me! Me! For people like us, it has always been all about ourselves. 

“We continually stare death in its face and survive. We’ve experienced countless deaths, and we feel like we know everything. Does that make us smart? No. We’re just pieces of trash who’ll never grow up. No way it’s for someone else’s sake! The only thing that’s certain for people like us is our worthless ego! We can never change, so the only thing to do is embrace it!”

“You’re right…” Arisu said, his voice just about loud enough for them to hear. “For pieces of trash like us, a shootout amongst ourselves might be perfectly apt. That’s why, right here, we have to change.”

Niragi’s words hit close to home. Everything he did, up until this point, had only been for himself. Chishiya had been selfish from the get go, but somewhere along the way, something changed. Niragi was wrong. They were not similar after all. Because Chishiya met Kurenai. 

She showed him that even in a world of desolation, there was light. In her, he saw the change he wanted to make. Self-preservation, yet at the same time saving as many as she could. That was the type of person Kurenai was, the person he should become for her. For himself. 

Arisu was right. They were pieces of trash, but right here, right now, they should change. 

Refusing to participate in this sick battle royale, Arisu stood up from his hiding spot and put his gun down. Chishiya watched him, though distracted when someone else unexpectedly joined. 

“Usagi…”

“What are you guys doing?” Usagi asked, shocked to see Niragi alive while Chishiya was hurt. 

“It’s you…” Niragi slowly raised his rifle, pointing it at Usagi. “Because of you, this kid will never come to our side. If you disappear, the three of us will return to being the same. I don’t want to be alone anymore!”

Bang! Bang!

Two distinct gunshots went off. 

The first was from Arisu, shooting Niragi down. The second gunshot came from Niragi pulling the trigger. But he did not hit Usagi as intended. He did not hit her, because she was pushed out of the way by Chishiya. 

“Chishiya!”

Rushing over to his side, both Arisu and Usagi were shocked that of all people, he would have stood to protect her. As he collapsed on the ground, however, there was only one thing on his mind. He knew he was done for, this time. His body moved before he could think it through, and he did not know why. Maybe he did. Maybe it was because of what Arisu said before…

“The bleeding is not stopping,” Usagi said, trying to tie a tourniquet around his abdomen. 

“There’s likely internal damage. Without the proper facilities in Borderland, I probably have a few hours left, maybe half a day.”

“Why...Why did you protect me?” Usagi asked. “That’s very unlike you.”

“Maybe I just wanted to be unlike myself,” Chishiya smiled.

They went silent for a moment. 

“You said you wanted to talk before, what was it?” Arisu asked.

“I used to view humans as foolish beings. I despised the sincere ones, and I couldn’t help but berate those who put in all their effort. I couldn’t stop the psychological abuse, I couldn’t get by without hurting someone, I couldn’t help shunning people’s good will and intentions. I was probably jealous...they were things I didn’t have. For what purpose do I live? Whose purpose? To what end? It was like I existed to show just how empty a human can be…”

Was that why he chose Arisu to sacrifice? Because he was jealous of the effort Arisu was willing to put in just to survive. What a sad excuse…

“Arisu…” Chishiya called out, his voice weak as his life was draining. “If you see Kurenai, could you please tell her…Never mind, she knows.”

Moving both Chishiya and Niragi somewhere more comfortable, Arisu and Usagi left to participate in the last game. They had no idea what would happen if they were to clear the game, but they had hopes that it would bring them back to the real world. Then Chishiya and Niragi would have a chance at living. 

Closing his eyes, Chishiya let out a soft sigh. 

What was the last thing he said to Kurenai before they parted? Did he tell her he loved her? Surely she knew he did. He had plenty of regrets, though if he were to die here right now, his biggest regret would be not seeing her. 

His light in the darkness. 

He had no idea how much time had passed, though he had been in and out of consciousness. He had been trying to hold on but it was getting harder by the minute. That was when he felt someone holding his hand, and pressing their ear to his chest. Chishiya smiled. 

It was her. 

“Hey…” he whispered.

“Hey,” she replied. “We meet again.” 

She was crying, and he did not even have the strength to wipe her tears for her. “Sorry I couldn’t keep my promise.” 

“Don’t say that,” she cried. “Please don’t say that...you promised you will stay alive. Don’t be another liar.”

“Kurenai, when we get back to the real world...let’s date.”

With a soft laugh and a smile, Kurenai nodded. “Let’s date.”

He felt at ease just having her with him. Using whatever strength he had left, Chishiya squeezed her hand as hard as he could. She squeezed right back. And for God knew how long, she stayed with him, holding his hand while laying her head on his chest. 

“Congratulations, with the last game cleared, players have now cleared all games.” The long awaited announcement. Arisu did it. “All surviving players, please individually answer the following. From now until forever, you have the right to continue these death matches as a citizen of Borderland in the next games with permanent residency. You now have the choice to accede or abdicate the position. Will you accept it or refuse it?”

“I refuse.”

As soon as they refused, a bright light shined in the sky and everything blacked out.

[readyplayerhobi]

Flower | Drabble 3

Okay so...this is set the day after the MC meets Hoseok’s parents and is from Hoseok’s POV! So...it’s 2.3k so a bit of a long drabble (especially given how short the chapters of Flower are) but I suppose you’ll enjoy it. Please reblog if you liked it and leave me comments about what you thought about another venture into our leading man’s head!

You get to find out a bit more about Hoseok, his mindset, his past and his relationship with his mom here :D

This isn’t proof read at all btw lol

-

Hoseok watches his mom carefully as she makes her way round the kitchen, the ingredients for her banana nutella pancakes laid out before her as she prepares to make him breakfast. It’s the day after he’d introduced you to them for the first time and you’re still upstairs, fast asleep in the double bed that had been his since he was sixteen.

Unsurprisingly, he’d gotten up long before you had. Over the course of your relationship so far, Hoseok had discovered that you could sleep forever if allowed whereas he quite liked to be up and about in the morning. Which was why he was up at only 8am on this fine Sunday morning.

Neither of you had intended to stay the night but by the time the movie you’d all been watching had finished, you’d been fast asleep against him and he’d been loath to make you wake up to travel all the way back to yours. So instead, with the permission of his parents, he’d taken you upstairs and carefully tucked you into bed before curling up beside you.

At the moment though, it was only him and his mom awake which was why she was indulging him with his childhood favourite. Licking at his lips, he takes a sip of the sweet, fresh apple juice and sighs softly to himself. There’s a lot of times he wishes he could go back and fix things with his parents when he’d been an ass to them.

He’d said a lot of things he hadn’t really meant, things that had been hurtful for the sole purpose of being hurtful because he was angry. It hadn’t been a pleasant experience raising him as a teenager and he was aware of that now, aware that he couldn’t change anything but it still made him feel guilty for what he’d put them through.

His parents had loved him despite whatever he’d thrown at them and he was just thankful now that they hadn’t thrown the towel in. That they’d persevered and given him chance after chance. It had taken him a while, but he’d finally opened up and taken that chance after years and now he was determined to not ruin things for them again.

They’d lost one child already, he didn’t want them to lose a second.

“Do you want me to cut them into Power Rangers?” She says suddenly and he realises he’s let his thoughts get away with him. Blinking rapidly, he processes what his mom says before laughing and shaking his head, remembering how she used to cut them for him back then. She’d gotten a special pancake...tin or whatever they were called to make him Power Ranger pancakes.

“I think I’m okay to just eat normal ones now mom. But thanks. Next time I feel like defeating Rita Repulsa, I’ll let you know.” It makes her laugh and he smiles at the sound, realising that you were completely right when you’d teasingly called him a mommy’s boy when you’d found out he called her every other day and talked for hours. You’d meant it in a positive way but it was true all the same.

There wasn’t a lot he wouldn’t do to make his mom happy. Not when he’d spent so long making her sad.

“Well, I’m just checking. You’ve not asked for banatella pancakes in a long time.” She turns round and hands him a plate piled high with pancakes, more cut bananas carefully placed atop the pile of extra Nutella that he loved so much. Banatella had been what he’d nicknamed them when he’d been like...six or something.

Hoseok shrugged, placing the plate down in front of him and picking up his fork. A careful bite has his mouth filly with fluffy, perfectly made pancakes that fill his mouth with sweetness. Humming happily, he tucks in and eats contentedly while his mom cleans up. He wants to protest her making this without making herself anything but she brings a bowl of muesli with fresh strawberries to the table and sits opposite him.

“I wasn’t expecting you both to stay the night.” She says, beginning the conversation as she takes a sip of her coffee. It’s black, like she always has it, and he’s always amazed that she can drink it like that.

“We weren’t gonna, obviously. But she gets tired very easily and gets a teeny bit grumpy if I wake her up. Didn’t think it was worth it.” Shrugging, he eats another mouthful and looks down at his plate.

“I peeked in at you both this morning, I’ll be honest. It was cute though. She was almost sprawled over the top of you.” His mom laughs lightly, her smile bright as she remembers and Hoseok can’t help but laugh in response.

“Yeah...she does that. There’s like zero concept of how to sleep next to someone ‘cos she’s never had to before. I don’t really mind, doesn’t wake me up. Except that time she accidentally punched me in the face in her sleep. Didn’t mean to, but I woke up to a sore jaw and her hand right there.” He snorts at the memory, fingers rubbing at his jaw as he gets a phantom pain.

“I think I’ve done that to your dad a few times so I guess you might expect it a little more.” The conversation dies down a little after that and the two of them just eat, the silence comfortable. But Hoseok has a question burning within him that he’s a little surprised about, a need to check that his mom likes you. That she approves.

He doesn’t want to say it though because he feels a bit stupid acting like that. At almost twenty-nine years old, he doesn’t need his parents approval anymore. But he’s spent a large portion of his life being an asshole to them and never doing anything right. So he has a need to make sure that he’s doing this right.

“You like her, right?” Mentally, he facepalms as he realises that he’s asked the question in the most childish and attention seeking way possible. There was even a little hint of whining in his voice, which he doesn’t even understand because why the hell would be whining about this? Maybe it’s because it’s his mom or something.

She pauses in her eating, looking at him intently and he resists the urge to fidget under her stare. That was a mom stare for sure and he feels like he’s done something bad. Like whenever she caught him smoking weed in his bedroom in high school or that time he’d had to hide a girl in his closet. 

He’d been a wild teenager, he admits this.

“Yes. I like her. And so does your dad. She’s very sweet and kind. A little shy and a little awkward like you said, but...she’s nice. I’ll admit, she’s not what I expected when you announced that you had a girlfriend you’ve been dating for longer than three weeks,” He pulls a face at that. “But I’m glad of that actually. You had some...dubious choices back then.”

“I think you mean that I was chronically allergic to the concept of a relationship and therefore only ever ‘dated’ girls had the same opinion as me.” That was a nice and polite way to put it, he thinks to himself proudly. Better than saying ‘I liked to stick my dick in women who had no expectations of a future’. 

Thinking back, he really was an asshole for years.

“You mean that you slept with women, you didn’t date them?” His mom says dryly, a brow raised in amusement at him as he sputters at her bluntness. Literally, there’s bits of pancakes everywhere now and he’d be embarrassed about that if he wasn’t mortified over the fact his own mother had just openly pointed out that she was highly aware of his previous sex life.

“Mom!” He whines, rubbing at his mouth to make sure there’s no residue and cleaning his lip ring. “Yes. That. we don’t talk about that anymore. That was a different Hoseok. He had...low standards. For everything apparently.”

“Well, I’m glad that you raised them with Y/N. She’s honestly lovely and if you were acting like how you used to act, then I’d say you don’t deserve her. But you’ve changed a lot and it’s very clear that you love her and want to try hard. And she obviously loves you too.” Playing with a piece of banana, he pokes his tongue into his cheek as he considers her words.

He knows you love him. You haven’t told him yet, but he knows. The level of trust and faith you’ve put into him to not hurt you was a little humbling and only part of why he was trying so hard with you. Hoseok’s past was filled with many women, sure, but he honestly believed it was because he’d just never found anyone he’d clicked with and wanted to be in a relationship with.

“This is going to sound incredibly sappy and I kind of want to sink into the floor just thinking the words. But it’s like I met her by pure chance when I wasn’t looking and she’s everything I wanted. I have to work a little, be incredibly understanding and slow with her but...I’ve never found someone that I want to try so hard with before. Even that first date, when I was just going along to give it a try and realised this girl is nothing like any other girl I’ve been with before, I knew that I’d found something worth keeping. She’s just...she’s not perfect. And she’d be the first to tell you that. But it’s like...I’ve never been so fascinated with someone, her mind goes a million miles a minute and I can barely keep up but she comes out with the most random shit and I love it. I don’t know what it is about her but...I found her by accident and I never wanted to let go once I did. God that was really lame, wasn’t it?” He cringes.

His mom is smiling so happily though and he realises that her eyes are glassy, causing him to whine once more as he realises he’s made her cry. Which is ridiculous, why is she crying?

“Why are you crying!” Hoseok protests, a little outraged that his incredibly soft words had made her cry but more worried about the fact he’d made her cry. What had he said to cause this?

“It’s nothing sweetheart,” She says, her voice strained as she reaches forward and grasps his hand. “It’s just...hearing you talk about her. I don’t think you realise just how much you love her really. Your face lights up and you get this smile. I spent a long time thinking that I’d never get to see you this happy, that you’d never settle but you didn’t just find someone to love. Hobi, my baby boy, I know you’ll roll your eyes at me but I really do think you’ve found your soulmate.”

Okay, she’s right. He does want to roll his eyes at her when she says that but he doesn’t. Because he can see how happy she is and how emotional she is to hear that he’s finally found the happiness and stability that he’d obviously been searching for for so long. He’s not an idiot. He recalls his therapy very well and he’s pretty convinced that he never settled for anyone before because he didn’t believe that he should just settle for someone he liked.

His sister never got the chance, so he should make sure that he found the one. Oh god, he’s being just as sappy and romantic as his mom now. She’s putting these thoughts into his head, that has to be it, he thinks to himself. But he doesn’t say it because she looks happy, and that’s all he wants.

“I’m not gonna say that’s cheesy. Okay no, it was definitely cheesy mom. But...I’m not gonna say no either. And I would like it if we could both just forget this conversation ever happened please. I feel very embarrassed right now and I know it’s fine for men to talk about their feelings but there’s talking about their feelings and then there’s talking about their feelings to their mom. I just...as long as you like her.” And now he’s gone awkward, causing his mom to laugh as she picks up his empty plate and places her equally empty bowl on top.

“Hey, hey, I can clean it! You made it, I’ll clean it.” He says insistently, standing to take them from her. But she simply shakes her head and gestures to him.

“Nope. You should go back up and wake her up for breakfast too. It’s fine, I’ve got it. You want to forget the conversation happened? Go bring her down for breakfast. Otherwise she’s going to hear all about how her big, tattooed and pierced boyfriend melted into ice cream talking about her.” He recognises that tone in her voice, the teasing one that’s edged with more than a little sarcasm.

Hoseok recognises it because he does it himself and he locks his jaw at realising he’s been outmaneuvered by his own mother. Not surprising really. She did give birth to him and all. So he does what any dutiful son would do in this moment and backs down at the threat. Before leaving though, he pauses in the kitchen doorway and points to her, eyes narrowed.

“For the record, I’m only going because we’re going somewhere today and she needs to get up. It has nothing to do with me telling you things. If you think it’d embarrass me, you’re totally wrong. I don’t know what woman wouldn’t like to hear that her ‘big, tattooed and pierced boyfriend’ was getting all mushy over them. So ner.” And with that, he does that very adult and mature thing of sticking his tongue out at her before leaving.

His moms laughter is sweet music to his ears as he climbs back up the stairs and he smiles in response.

[mst3kproject]

Magic Christmas Tree

I thought I’d try something different this year and find a bad Hannukah movie, but everybody I asked had the same recommendation: Adam Sandler’s Eight Crazy Nights.  I know for a fact that is a prohibitively awful film, because I know people who’ve watched parts of it (I have not to date met anyone who could sit through the whole thing), but it just doesn’t feel like an MST3K feature to me.  Anyway, I have standards.  My conclusion is that people need to make more Hannukah movies… and until that happens, I’m watching Magic Christmas Tree, which comes specially recommended by RiffTrax.

This is the only Christmas movie I’ve ever seen which starts with cheerful holiday music over footage of… Hallowe’en decorations. Obnoxious bully Mark and his two pushover friends decide to go investigate a supposedly-haunted house. Naturally the old lady who lives there is a witch, and in exchange for Mark rescuing her cat, she gives him a seed for a magical tree that will grant him three wishes.  Two months later, with the tree fully grown, his first wish is to have magical powers for one hour – he uses them to torment unfortunate people who were already having to work on Christmas Eve.  His second wish is to kidnap Santa Claus and extort unlimited presents from him, but that attracts the attention of the spirit of Greed, who intends to keep Mark as a slave forever!  Good thing he’s still got that third wish.

God, I hate this movie.  I’d say it’s the worst Christmas movie I’ve ever seen, but Elves exists, so instead I have to say it’s the worst Christmas movie that didn’t have any Nazis in it.  It reminds me more than anything else of Ghost of Dragstrip Hollow, in that it’s an absolute mess that seems to have been put together by people who have no idea what they’re doing.  It spends most of its time on boring, annoying irrelevant bullshit, and then when it gets to the plot, that’s boring and annoying, too!

Magic Christmas Tree is only an hour long, but that’s twice as long as it needed to be.  A plot summary makes it sound like most of the film will be dealing with Mark’s three wishes and how he uses them, but it’s half-over before we even get to that point.  The time leading up to it is spent watching Mark follow the witch’s complicated instructions on how to grow and activate the tree, and his parents dealing with this unwanted thing appearing in the middle of their back yard.  All of this is presented in excruciating detail.  We watch Mark dig the entire hole to plant the seed in.  We see his Dad struggle with the lawnmower at unbelievable length, while the Mom yacks about nothing on the phone with her friend Betty.  The Dad tries to cut the tree down with no success.  Mark has to say a set of magic words over and over and over.

It goes on so long, it passes the are you fucking kidding me? point and wanders into territory where you wonder if there’s something wrong with the disk and you’re playing the scene over and over.  It actually starts to feel like it’s on purpose – especially when the slowness is repeatedly emphasized by shots of Mark’s pet tortoise, Ichabod, who seems to be eating his patch of clover far faster than anybody else is accomplishing anything.  You’ll swear the movie is making fun of you.

The sound that accompanies all this is sometimes very peculiar.  The old lady has exactly the voice you’d expect from a witch in a cheap kid’s movie, but Mark’s Mom sounds like she’s being dubbed by a twelve-year-old boy, possibly the same one who provided the voice for Mark himself.  The tree speaks (oh, yes, it does) in the voice of a smarmy stereotypical gay man.  Santa Claus sounds like he’s half-senile and wondering what’s for lunch.

The lawnmower makes some very strange noises indeed. I guess they’re meant to be cartoonish and funny.  They’re definitely the former but they’re never the latter, possibly because they never sound remotely like a lawnmower.  When Mark’s Dad is trying to get it started it sounds like the ghost of a consumptive horse, and three hours later when it actually gets going, it makes noises like a traffic jam in Whoville.

Besides sounding weird, the actors are just plain bad.  The guy playing Santa Claus is half-asleep.  We’re told that the tree’s magic means he’s trapped in the chair he’s sitting in, and I honestly do believe that actor could not have gotten up if he tried, no wishes necessary.  The woman playing Mark’s Mom looks like she’s high as a kite and only barely keeping her grip on reality.  Maybe that’s why they had to dub her.  Mark’s Dad recites his lines like a guy on a game show reading his own life story off a teleprompter, and does his yard chores in a way that’s probably supposed to be pantomimey but is the opposite of entertaining.  The Dad gets an inordinate amount of screen time, which I can only chalk up to the fact that he’s played by director Dick Parish.

The worst of the lot are, of course, the kids, who are predictably terrible 60’s child actors.  They yell all their lines, with the volume and exaggerated emphasis you expect from a school play.  It wears thin very, very quickly.  The kid playing Mark is the worst of the lot, although I might just think that because he’s the one we spend the most time with.  He’s a huge part of why this movie makes me so mad.

I think the best way to describe Mark as a character is to say that the first time I watched this movie I assumed his name was ‘Billy’, despite the fact that everybody kept calling him ‘Mark’. He just seems like the type of nasty little brat who’d be named ‘Billy’ in a bad 60’s Christmas movie.  We meet him having lunch with his two friends by the playground, and learn that he’s a greedy little shit when he drives a hard bargain in a sandwich trade.  Greedy-little-shit-itude continues to be his primary character trait and is, of course, the core of the movie’s lesson.  His attempt to monopolize Santa Claus makes him such a greedy little shit that Greed himself takes an interest in him.

Greed is a huge hairy man who takes delight in kidnapping little boys.  I think he’s supposed to look like a fairy tale giant.  Watching him manhandle a child is an intensely uncomfortable experience.

I guess ‘don’t be greedy’ is a standard message for a children’s movie, and it seems like a particularly appropriate one for Christmas, which presents children with a great opportunity for avarice. What seems a little odd is that Mark never actually suffers any consequences for his selfishness, only the vague threat of them. There was a perfect opportunity for some of this when Mark kidnaps Santa Claus.  Santa, after all, brings toys to good girls and boys… surely by this point, after his brief reign of terror with his magical powers, Mark has been naughty enough to deserve only coal.  Apparently that’s not how it works, though.  Mark just wanders off into the woods in search of small animals to shoot with his new rifle, runs into the giant, and immediately repents even though Greed is offering him all the toys and candy he wants.

What supposedly prompts Mark to become a better person is seeing how the world has responded to Santa Claus going missing.  Curiously, there is very little emphasis on the children who are sad because they didn’t get any presents.  Maybe somebody thought that would have made them seem greedy? Instead, the vision Greed presents to Mark is of the United States military mobilizing to locate Santa and bring him home, Santa Claus Conquers the Martians-style!  So… I guess Mark becomes a better person because he’s afraid of what’s going to happen if the army finds Santa trapped in a chair in his house?  I guess that is pretty terrifying.

Another thing that blunts the lesson is the fact that Mark is given his three wishes as a reward for a good deed.  He got the witch’s cat down from the tree, so she offers him the magical seed and doesn’t let him refuse.  What then was he supposed to use his three wishes for, if not to get stuff for himself? Was this intentionally a poisoned gift, because you shouldn’t accept things from witches?  The witch insists that there are good witches as well as wicked ones, but she’s not exactly an unbiased source.  The movie never tries to blame her, though.  The situation is presented as Mark’s fault, and Mark’s alone.

Finally, at the end Mark wakes up and finds that of course the whole thing was a dream – there was no witch, no magic tree, and no Santa Claus.  This is less annoying than it could have been because at least it’s not a surprise. Mark did hit his head when he fell out of the tree the cat was in, and the movie changed from black and white to colour.  We’ve seen this before in The Wizard of Oz and we can guess where it’s going. The audience might assume that Mark will wake up and immediately take the opportunity to be generous instead of greedy, perhaps by giving his friend something to make up for the lunch trade. Instead, the woman who owns the cat (who is not actually a witch, but looks even more like one in this part of the film than she does wearing the Hallowe’en witch costume in Mark’s dream) offers him milk and cookies, and he delightedly accepts.  This just gives the impression that he’s learned nothing.

Is there anything in this movie I didn’t hate?  Well… among Mark’s school friends is a token black kid, who is not differentiated in any way from his peers.  He talks like them, he dresses like them, and the writers did not use either his lunch or his Hallowe’en plans as a way to demarcate a class difference between him and the others.  So yeah, the movie sucks, but the writers tried really hard not to be racist.

Happy fucking holidays.  I want to say hooray for surviving 2020, but we’ve still got a week to go.  That’s plenty of time for oh, I don’t know, an alien invasion, or a giant meteor, or the Yellowstone supervolcano, or zombies, or whatever.  At this point, if most of us aren’t dead by this time next year, I’ll count that as a win.

[supertransural]

thinking about dean cas and baby jack going on a road trip. dean’s used to being in the impala for long lapses of time, but it’s usually stressful, it’s tiring, it’s always in the expectancy of another job, another monster to be defeated. it’s always going from point A where a killer was killed to point B where another one awaits. it’s always about the job.

so this time, concentrating on the road as dusk was slowly creeping up on them, with cas dozing off beside him or maybe thinking hard about... something (this was cas after all, how was dean supposed to know what went on in his (his!! he still couldn’t believe that) angel’s head), squinting as always, his eyes almost shut; with 4yo jack in the backseat, drooling all over the fine black leather (if this wasn’t his kid, dean would’ve stopped the car already and thrown the child out just for this punishable-by-death-atrocity) and dreaming about a future dean gets to be a part of (goddammit how did he get so lucky), he was surprised when he didn’t feel the much-too-common tension in his shoulders. he felt... relaxed, yes that’s the word. it’s a word he was beginning to understand, a word that cas was teaching him how to feel.

a small smile cracked its way through dean’s face as he turned his attention back to the road. they were on their way to Louisiana, not set on a town yet. he may have been retired, but dean hadn’t lost his taste for adventure, so he had convinced his little family to just, wing it. he wondered if he should switch routes and see where the new one lead him, but that might upset cas who was really excited about eating the good food he’d heard his husband talk so much about. louisiana it is, then, he thought.

in the corner of his eye, he could see cas breathing deeply, no doubt already mapping out every possible resting spot for tonight, every corner store that sold kids food, maybe emergency stuff (cas could get a bit overwhelming when he listed off every single potential thing that may go terribly wrong with jack when they leave the safety of their house) or diners that cas deemed appropriate enough for their special kid. because he really was special, every smile, every laugh, every new drawing or string of words he puts together seemingly just so he can see his dads smile, every single thing this baby does is special. unique. and dean gets to see all those things, he gets to be there for everyone of them. jesus he’s getting emotional, should stop that now or cas will be teasing him about it for the rest of the trip. ok, deep breaths now, he thought. the road, the wheel in his hands, baby’s engine humming quietly. right. got it.

they packed frantically two days prior, because cas. jack was giggling the whole way through, observing them from his stool, since apparently dean looked really funny with peach fuzz he hadn’t had the time to shave yet (cas woke him up in a panic at 6am dammit) pink pajama shorts, his boots and a unicorn tshirt he only wore in cas’ presence (sam is a lovey kid, but hell if dean is ever going to let him see the collection of tshirts this one comes from). 4 suitcases, a couple inflatable duck-floaties, way too many towels, every single one of jack’s stuffed animals (except the little purple dinosaur one that jack was firmly holding onto during his inspection of his parents’ packing ordeal) and a thousand other useless things cas seemed to find essential to their survival.

“jesus, it’s only a couple weeks, honey!” dean had told him, trying to fit the last suitcase into the trunk of the impala (and miserably failing, to his own bitter disappointment).

“yes, a “couple weeks” within which we will apparently be doing things and going places we cannot foresee, as was your wish. i simply want to be prepared for any alternative your resourceful mind might come up with. and jack requires all his stuffies, he cannot sleep without counting each one of them before bed. you do not wish to see your child cry for two weeks, do you? you would not purposely cause him any pain, would you? right then the matter is settled. these items must find their way into this car you love so much, and i must attend to our son. his breakfast awaits!” cas had responded, mischievous smile growing larger with each sentence. “good luck!” he then added, giving dean a long and deep kiss, as if this was to be their last.

after a kiss like that, how was dean supposed to keep on complaining? he wasn’t, and that was exactly what cas intended, dean knew that. doesn’t mean he protested, or argued against his miraculous-bitch of a husband. so he had finished packing, muttering to himself, but unable to push down the grin that cas’ kiss had brought upon his face. or the flush of his cheeks for that matter.

here he was, happy as he’d ever been, relaxed for the first time ever while being on a long drive (first of many times, he hoped), with the love of his life on his right side, and the other light of his existence in the backseat, little hands still clutching the purple dinosaur.

“hey.” he heard a raspy and sleepy voice say. cas had indeed been asleep for the past 30 minutes.

“good morning, sleepyhead!” answered dean, chuckling.

he looked at cas’ beautifully hazy face, his icy blue eyes shining in the pink-orange light of the fading sun. god, how could this man be his, and how could dean ever refuse him anything. he reached out his right hand to place it on cas’ left thigh, stroking it lovingly in round patterns with his thumb. smiling at him, he wondered if giving him a quick kiss would cause his husband to start lecturing him again (for the thousandth time probably) about driving safely when jack was in the car.

fuck it, he thought. he glanced at the empty road, and lunged quickly towards cas before the former angel could refuse, and placed his lips on his for a few seconds. grinning to himself as he sat back, directing his gaze back to the highway, he waited for cas’ annoyed voice, no doubt already preparing a stern talking-to and threatening him to rat him out to the police to get his license taken away (not that it would matter, dean still had all his fake ID’s in a secret box back home, carefully tucked between baby clothes and pacifiers at the bottom of a drawer).

“dean.” cas started, a frown already carved into his forehead.

“oh no you don’t” dean cut him off. “if you lecture me, jack’s gonna feel it and he’ll wake up from what seems to be a very pleasant dream. save it for the hotel room, i know a few ways you can make me feel the weight of my wrongdoing.” he added with a wink.

cas turned to look at his son, still happily asleep in the back. frown disappearing, a sweet smile starting to lighten his expression (wow, he really could just look that magnificent whenever he felt like it) he turned back to face his partner.

“fine. just because he’s asleep. where are we?” cas said, squinting disapprovingly, then yawning silently.

“just passed the northern border of arkensas.” answered dean with a sigh. “gonna be a pretty boring drive from here on out”.

“i see. there’s a motel not far from here, with a town nearby where we could find sustenance, appropriate for jack too.” cas said, not even looking at his phone: he’d memorized each town’s location, every name of every motel, roadhouse, diner that they might encounter, because he was like that. and god did dean love him for it. “it’s getting a bit late, and i would rather see jack in a bed tonight than sleeping in the car” he remarked. “no offense to her” he added hurriedly when he felt dean’s glare after what could be interpreted as an insult to his baby.

“alright. when’s the exit for this town of yours?” dean asked absentmindedly.

“15 more miles, i believe.” cas answered, propping up an elbow on the windowsill.

“cool. tell me when you see it, i might forget, with you looking so handsome right next to me and all. tired father really is a good look on you.” dean whispered with a side smile.

“oh stop it. jack is right there.” cas answered, chuckling and fiddling with his wedding ring.

they stared at each other, peace settling comfortably between them.

“you know i love you, right?” said dean, without a hint of humor in his voice.

“yes, you’ve taken the habit of telling me, roughly 28 times a day, give or take.” joked cas as he saw dean scowl. “i love you too, now and forever, when the seas rise and swallow the land, when the heavens fall and the stars burn out, i will still love you, the only light that ever mattered, the first soul i ever really saw, the one i followed to hell and back. but you already knew that, right?” cas uttered with warmth, with the same voice he’d used at their wedding.

“jesus, cas. if you’re not careful, i might just end up falling for you. oh wait, i already did.” answered dean, face reddened and heart full. this is where he belonged.

dean’s hand was still on cas’ thigh, and their gazes were still locked together when jack woke from his sleep in an adorable mumble. he immediately started babbling to his fathers about the dream he had had (probably making up new details, but you could never know with that kid). as the family laughed together, dean looked to his window, and time stilled for a split second.

he saw a ghost of who he was, staring back at him in his reflection, eyes glossy with tears (joy? terror? sadness? love? hate? too hard to tell). the face in the makeshift mirror seemed to ask “is this really what is coming? will i truly get to where you are one day?”. dean smiled, nodding a silent “yes, yes you will. in time.” and the face faded away slowly, a little less scared than it had seemed at first.

when he looked back towards his husband and his son, his own eyes were glossy too.

“what’s wrong?” cas asked, worried.

“nothing, i’m just happy.” dean answered, wiping away a tear that was slipping down his cheek with a sure smile. “i’m just... happy.”

they drove until cas pointed at the exit, ate, and fell asleep contentedly.

18 years ago, dean dozed off without the need for strong booze in the very same motel, and the same tear (joy, maybe?) danced down his face into the pillow. a low hum of a voice saying “in time” ringing brightly in his mind, he fell asleep into the deepest slumber he’d ever gotten. “all will be well”, a voice kept repeating.