#the yearning n shit? like its yeah its permanent but its like. after that its just not as bad. doesn't Hurt as much

[batz]

bubbys feelings come back full force after coomers divorce, but he knows that he cant be w him bc of black mesa, and its probably too soon even if he COULD... so he kinda starts avoiding him? not to be rude, hes still there when coomers Sad, but hes rlly quiet and doesnt meet coomers eyes. Coomer gets rlly worried for him? bc hes not usually so distant? so he approaches like "if somethings wrong you Need to tell me." n bubby BREAKS like he just starts crying man... feelings r hard... :'(

MAN yall love ANGST yall love SAD huh..ok cries

[imasimpforshanks]

hi! i love your stuff so very much!!

can i request the angst alphabet with zoro?

thank uuuuu ❤️

Angst Alphabet - Roronoa Zoro

a/n: hiya!!! thank y’all so much!!<3 hope you enjoy this 😌

A-Accident (would they blame themselves if you died in an accident?)

He may not blame himself entirely if you were to die in an accident. But Zoro would think himself weak. How could he possibly become the words greatest swordsman if he can’t even protect his s/o.

B-Break up (How would they break up with you?)

Before breaking up with you Zoro would start to distance himself a little to try and make it easier on the both of you for when he does break up with you. Other than that, he is likely to just come right out and say exactly what he wants to say. He’s brutally honest and straightforward so he won’t try to sugar coat anything or beat around the bush.

C-Crying (how would they make you cry?)

Zoro does this horrible thing where he likes to overwork himself to the point of exhaustion. No matter how many times you tell him to stop and express your concerns for his health, he just doesn’t listen. It hurts seeing the man you love more than anything exhausting himself.

D-Death (how would they react to your death?)

Speaking of overworking, after your death he works himself harder than he ever has before. Day in, day out he’s training. He trains every possible minute to distract himself from your death and make himself stronger to ensure he never loses a loved one ever again.

E-Emotion (what is one emotion they would try to hide the most and how would they do it?)

Being openly vulnerable is something Zoro doesn’t like to do. He really only shows his vulnerable side with his s/o and even then, it took him a really long time to do it.

F-Fight (do you two ever fight? How big are the fights? What do you fight about? Etc.)

Very rarely do your fights get serious. Your fights are often just light-hearted teases and jokes towards one another. Where its always followed by laughter or eye rolls.

If your fight was to get serious, it would result in a lot of yelling at one another and with Zoros blunt personality, a lot of hurtful words (which he ALWAYS apologizes for in the end).

G-Guilt (what is the biggest thing they feel guilty about?)

The events of Sabaody weigh heavily on Zoro’s mind. He was the first one to get sent away by Kuma, so feels as though he failed not only his captain, but the whole crew as well. He wasn’t there to protect them, to help them. Instead, he was a complete failure. And, because of his weakness his captain had to fight and suffer alone.

H-Heartbreak (what would cause them pain in the relationship? How would they deal during a break-up?)

During a break-up Zoro does what he would in any other situation: workout. He keeps himself occupied by working out, and actually he drinks a little bit more than usual too. It could even get to the point where the rest of the crew feels as though they need to step in.

I-Injured (how would they react if you are badly injured?).

He turns dark. Basically, a demon in human form. Moves you from wherever you are so that you’re out of the way of more danger AND THEN HE TIES HIS BANDANA ROUND HIS HEAD BECAUSE THIS SHIT IS SERIOUS.

J-Jealousy (what do they do if they are jealous?)

Its ridiculously obvious when this swordsman is jealous. He gets super grumpy and tries to intimidate the other person. He’ll stand right behind you and honestly, that’s intimidating enough on its own. But, if the other person doesn’t get the hint he’ll place his hand, ever so casually, on his swords.

K-Kill (would they kill for revenge?)

Ever since joining the Straw Hats, Zoro doesn’t kill others (its not something Luffy wants his nakama to do, so Zoro doesn’t do it). However, that mindset goes straight out the window depending on who he’s taking revenge for (i.e if it’s for his s/o).

Most of the time Zoro just leaves them wishing they were dead. (this seems to be a common thing amongst One Piece characters).

L-Loss (what is their greatest loss?)

I would actually say losing some of his pride. Zoro is a poud man, who refuses to lower his head to anyone. However, after receiving the message from Luffy to train and meet up again in two years, Zoro knew he had to lower his and beg Mihawk for his guidance. It was definitely a hit on his pride, but, honestly… He doesn’t regret that one bit – anything for his captain.

M-Mistake (what is the worst mistake they ever made with you?).

During one of the few big fights you guys have had things got really heated and the fight ended up getting so off topic. Insults and mean words were being thrown out left and right. Zoro got so caught up in it all that he said something that targeted one of your deepest insecurities. He knew he had screwed up so badly when you walked away without even saying anything.

N-Nightmares (how often do they have them? What are they about? How do they deal with it?).

He doesn’t often get nightmares, but when he does they tend to be about Sabaody and when the crew got separated from one another (or really any other incident where he was unable to help properly). After he wakes up, he gets straight out of bed and starts working out – determined to make sure nothing like that ever happens again.

O-Outrage (how and why would they get mad at you?)

Zoro doesn’t get mad at you for much, mainly if you pay any attention to that shitty cook, like seriously, he doesn’t understand why you have to give Sanji any attention when Zoro is literally your boyfriend….

P-Past (what has happened in your relationship that changed the way you saw each other?)

Even though you never found out exactly what happened on Thriller Bark (its something Zoro refuses to tell even you), it made you realize that you need to step up and not rely on Zoro so much because although he may act like it, he’s not actually indestructible.

Q-Quality (what is their most dangerous/toxic quality?).

(SORRY I FEEL LIKE I’M BEING VERY REPETITIVE HERE AH BUT YEAH…) He never allows himself to heal from an injury properly. He always starts training immediately despite Chopper’s best attempts to stop him.

R-Rejection (how would they react to you rejecting their confession (or the other way around)).

If you were to reject his confession, he’d probably try to justify it to himself by saying “yeah actually it’s probably better this way. I don’t need anymore distractions in life.” But, he would definitely be a little down in the dumps about it. He made himself vulnerable for this and it didn’t work the way he wanted.

S-Scars (battle or self-inflicted)

Zoro has many scars. The scar over his left eye was a result of his two years of training with Mihawk, though no one knows the exact cause of it – only that it appeared during those two years. Zoro also has a scar on his chest from his very first encounter with Mihawk. He may also have scars on his ankles from the time he tried to chop of his own legs on Little Garden (I can’t recall if these are actually scars or if they healed completely).

T-Trust (have they ever broken your trust?).

This answer is short and sweet: No. Never. Not even in his wildest of dreams. Loyalty is basically Zoro’s entire character. He would never violate your trust. If he did… well Zoro, wouldn’t be Zoro anymore. (only thing he’s done that comes close is keep you from finding out what really happened to him on Thriller Bark).

U-Urge (how badly do they want to see you after you guys separated?)

Honestly, he is probably one of the few who are able to cope with missing you the longest. He still wants to see you of course – your presence is reassuring, so he definitely prefers when you are around – but he can handle not seeing you for a while by focusing on the task at hand and just remembering that this separation isn’t permanent.

V-Vicious (what do they do when they lash out on you?).

Similar to what I’ve said before, he says some really harsh things. He has always been blunt and straightforward, but when he’s lashing out at you he tends to make things a little more personal.

W-Weak (what makes them feel weak how do they try to avoid it?).

Zoro hates losing. Not because he’s competitive or anything but because losing makes him feel weak. Whenever he loses he feels so far away from his goal. To make up for this he works out. He trains and trains and trains until he can no longer move. He will keep going until he never loses another fight.

X-X-ray (what do they hate and show it most obviously?)

Obviously, he shows his hate of Sanji very frequently. The two pirates are constantly arguing and at one anothers throat.

But another thing he hates is people getting in the way of his dream. He agreed to join Luffy so long as he didn’t get in the way of his dream – and if luffy were to get in the way Zoro made him promise to commit seppuku (although whether or not I think Zoro would actually make him do that anymore is a different thing that I could go on about for a while so imma stop there…).

Y-Yearn (what is one thing that they want but can’t have?)

Zoro wants to be the world’s greatest/strongest swordsman. It’s not currently a title he can have, however, day-by-day he is getting just that much closer.

Z-Zero (what do they do/say in your dying moments?)

I don’t think a lot is said or done by Zoro in your final moments. He probably whispers a few thank you’s and I’m sorry’s. He won’t mourn properly until he’s completely alone.

[blondsauduun-reads]

The Revolution That’s Been Singing In The Rain (JATP Reggie X Reader)

Pairing: 1995!Reggie x Reader

Word count: 1.5K

Warnings: some swearing?

Plot: Ok so, it’s a pride parade/riot/demo, in 1995 (or so), and the boys go to support Alex, but surprise! There’s music there too! And Reggie likes the person playing the electric violin at the march. But like it starts to rain and they gotta stop with the instruments and get off the stage but they don’t stop singing. So anyway Reggie is in first row and the band was singing a cover of We Will Rock You and Reg of course knows the lyrics as does everyone. So they start singing and dancing very energetically and passionately in the rain. At the end the violin person gives Reggie their number

A/N: nonbinary reader (they/them pronouns) The link to the electric violin cover of we will rock you without the lyrics. Also. This is the first one-shot I’ve ever written and stuff so please be nice :) yes I accept constructive criticism too.

After practice, Alex had finally mustered up the strength to ask his best friends/bandmates,

“So, there’s this gay thing, on Saturday, and I wanted to ask if it you guys wanted to come with me?” The three other guys were listening closely to him, while fiddling around a bit with their instruments.

“It’s okay though, if you don’t.” Hadn’t even given them time to react, let alone answer. “If you don’t wanna come, I mean.”

A second of silence, the three of them surprised, exchanging looks, the blond one dreading the answer.

“No, yeah, dude.” Luke finally said, leaving his guitar on the stand. “We’ll totally go with you!”

“Yeah! We were just shocked that you’d wanna go.” Bobby said, because he and the two other guys had heard about it but weren’t going to bring it up if Alex wasn’t.

“We’re really proud of you, bro,” Reggie said, hugging his neck from behind. Kinda looked awkward. “I wish I was half as brave as you.”

With the whole AIDs thing, the President, his parents, and you know, the anxiety he lived with, Alex couldn’t really live his whole truth most of the time without fearing for his life, so yes, going to a Pride thing was no small feat for the boy.

“Yep, you can let me go now, Reg.” He chuckled, or coughed, because Reggie wasn’t exactly a spaghetti build person, and was hugging his neck rather tightly.

“So when’s the date bro?” Luke sat down on the couch, spreading himself out like pancake batter on a pan.

It was Saturday. Somehow, Reggie convinced them all to paint lil rainbows on either their cheeks or hands. They all looked adorable, sitting in the metro pressed together like anchovies, all with backpacks loaded with water, their respective lunches, and whatever the hell more fitted in the backpack.

Once they got to the station, they went out, following another group of people dressed for a parade, and in a bit more than five minutes, they were smack in the middle of the parade, chanting something in favor of LGBTQ+ rights.

“Do you hear that?” Reggie asked Alex, but like, screaming.

“Yeah, its about to storm, or something.” He said, looking at the sky, which was getting grayer by the minute.

“Not thunder, it’s like,” The black haired squinted in thought. “it’s like, music, I think. Queen.” He said. “Imma go, be right back!”

Reg disappeared in between the queers at the parade, following that sound.

“Reg, no! Shi…” Alex opened and closed his eyes in disapproval and desperation. “Luke! Bobby! We got a rogue bassist!” Bobby and Luke’s reactions to that were similar to Alex’s.

Meanwhile, Reggie had successfully found the source of the music. At a nearby park, was a stage, like those kinds of stages that can be built in like a day, and on top of it, a rock band.

Said like that, it probably doesn’t sound too special, but the thing was, they were playing a We Will Rock You cover, with an electric violin, or that’s what he could tell from a hundred feet distance from the actual stage, so, continuing squishing himself through the crowd, feeling some droplets of rain on his face, he got closer to the band, until he reached a six feet distance.

Shit, the violin was so incredibly pretty, like, it looked like some sort of futuristic weapon. The guy was loving it. The person playing it though, divine; the way they moved their arms and feet and carried themself. Also, yeah, probably the prettiest person Reg had seen to date.

The band, apart from having the violinist, who also was the backup singer, had a drummer, a bassist, and a guitarist, also the lead singer.

Anyway, the scene, everyone stomping their feet on the ground, singing the song with the band, remembering the now dead Freddie Mercury and how iconic he was, the energy of all those people, together in the fight for freedom and equality. The revolution. And the fucking rain.

Droplets were suddenly drops, which then started falling faster, and suddenly the band started panicking a bit, they couldn’t break up these vibes, these people.

So, the three with the string instruments put away the instruments, amps, cables and everything as fast as they could, and the drummer rushing his music cylinders into safety, the only ones carrying the music were the people, among which was Reggie, tearing out his vocal chords singing along the various hundreds of people singing too.

Once all the electric shtick on stage was cleared up, the whole band jumped down from the stage, joining the crowd, singing and stomping.

Buddy you’re an old man poor man

Pleadin’ with your eyes gonna make you some peace some day

The violinist, which had seen Reggie look starstruck at them and later on give his all to the music, joined him to sing (and stomp).

They were almost dancing, doing a duet, smiling like children on Christmas morning, being completely soaked through with the rain, and looking at each other with a feeling I can only describe as electricity (and if they looked at each other more electricly, they would have electrocuted themselves along the way.)

You got mud on your face You big disgrace Somebody better put you back in your place

The violinist shot him a wink, he tried to not get flustered, and in return winked back.

We will we will rock you

One last verse to the song, everyone still as excited as they were at the beginning. And yet, this one was sung with intention, with motive, as if they were shouting at the world that they’d rock it to achieve their goal.

We will we will rock you

And that was it. After a couple of seconds, the crowd calmed down and scattered.

“Hey, what are your pronouns?” The violinist asked.

Reggie remembered both the dictionary meaning of pronoun and the context in which it was asked (which Alex so kindly explained to them earlier), “He/Him, I’m Reggie.” He smiled.

“You’re in that band, right? Sunset Curve?” They asked.

“Tell your friends!” I’m pretty sure you can imagine how exactly he said this quote. “I’m the bassist.” Ah yes, and now the important question, “What about you, pronouns and name, I mean.”

“Oh, yeah, that.” They thought for one second before blurting it out, “They/Them, the name’s Y/n.” Y/n stretched out a hand, he seized it and made a mental note to ask Alex about those pronouns after, “So, what brings you here today?”

“Oh, well, my best friend’s gay, but,” He leaned closer to their ear, “I’m like, 90% sure I’m bi.”

“Damn boy, same!” They laughed.

“Anyway, I gotta go now, the instruments are only safe from the rain, not from people,” Y/n scratched the back of their neck. “But, in case I’m not only bi and yearning,” They whipped out a marker from their pocket and scribbled their number on Reggie’s forearm, “give me a call. Maybe we can try to rock out again together.” Wow, so full of confidence, must be the adrenaline that implied losing their instrument over getting a cute bassist as a date.

“Uh, yeah sure,” Y/n was already walking away, smiling at him.” I’ll def give you a call!” There was no answer to that. Only a distant holler.

“Yo! Reggie!” Luke.

“Coming!”

And he did walk over, fishing from his backpack a piece of dry paper and a pen to write down the number on something a bit more permanent. Anyway, he found the guys.

“Remember when I told you I might be bisexual?” He asked, copying the number.

“Yeah, when we were watching Indiana Jones, why?” Alex remembered. Indiana Jones is hot, that’s so not up for discussion.

“Yeah, well” He ripped the page with the number out and stuffed it in his pocket. “now I know, I’m bi.”

“Yeah man, no shit.” Luke teased him. Joke’s on you bitch you’re too.

[etherealhood]

Permanent Chase - Part One

author: @etherealhood

word count: 4,421

warnings: very angsty but it’s also got some fluff!

a/n: hello everyone!! this is something i’ve been drafting and working on for a few months now, and i’m so happy to finally share! it’s a reincarnation au so i hope you guys like it! be sure to let me know what you all thought of this part, enjoy! xo

pairing: calum hood x oc

After many, many years of consuming the amber liquid, the burn whiskey had during consumption eventually faded. Drinking it no longer left that bitter feeling that made her face scrunch up. However, the particular type of whiskey sitting in Malia Bianchi’s glass gave a slight tingle as she swallowed it. She was quite surprised to feel her face scrunch up just the teeniest bit.

She heard the loud and accomplished laughter of the bartender a couple feet away from her. Looking over, the man leaned against the bar top as he smiled brightly at her. “So I finally got you to crack?”

Malia rolled her eyes as the bartender, Benjamin, smirked at her with that smug look he seemed to always be wearing. “Fuck off, Benjamin. You found one, don’t get your hopes and think you’ll find another one.” She said, referring to his mission of finding an alcohol, any alcohol, that could get to her. For years now, he’d been trying to find something that could get a cringe out of her, and he was proving unsuccessful until he found this particular bottle of whiskey.

“Oh, I know I won’t. Gina had to track down that bottle all the way to Europe.” He explained as he began serving another customer who’d walked up to the counter. Benjamin poured the young customer a drink and smiled politely as the customer thanked him and walked off to some dark corner of the bar.

At the mention of Gina, she quirked an eyebrow and brought the glass back up to her lips, speaking before she took a small sip of the whiskey in her glass. “So you recruited the missus on your mission, huh, Benny boy?” Ben shrugged with another small laugh once he began wiping down the counter with a clean rag. “Where she’d import it from anyway?”

“Scotland.” He said, not really thinking much about it as he scrubbed at a sticky spot. However, in his peripheral vision, he saw her tense up before slowly lowering her cup back onto the countertop. Ben looked at Malia as her face fell from its happy and relaxed expression to that heartbroken look he was unfortunately a bit too familiar with. From where he stood behind the bar, he could see her bite at her bottom lip as tears pooled in her hazel-green eyes. “Oh, Lia, I’m sorry.”

She furrowed her eyebrows and wiped the stray tear that fell over the curve of her cheek. “No, it’s okay.” She sniffled and looked back up at her friend, giving a sad smile. “Just really missin’ him, ya know?”

Benjamin nodded in understanding. “How long’s it been since you last saw him?” The brunette inquired in a whisper as his sad eyes watched the woman before him.

Malia inhaled deeply, exhaling shakily as she looked at the liquid that she was swishing around in her glass. Looking down at the bright shade of brown reminded her of the way his eyes looked in the mornings when the sunlight peeked into the room and fell over his warm skin. “It was 75 years in November.” She said softly.

“Wow.” The bartender mumbled as he scratched at the full beard that littered his jaw, absolutely amazed that she’d gone that long without the love of her life. He knew her life story and he’d know it the fifty years he’d been alive. But when he really found himself thinking about just how long Malia had been separated from her lover, he couldn’t imagine spending 75 years waiting to find Gina.

It made his heart ache with sympathy as he saw that Malia was trying to keep from tearing herself apart. Growing up, he watched how she yearned to have him back by her side. He watched how not having him with her was ruining her. Missing someone for so long, looking for someone for so long changed her. She’d been doing it for centuries at this point, but he was beginning to think that this time it was taking a toll on her.

While Ben was swimming in his thoughts, Malia tapped her fingers on the wooden counter, feeling the lump form in the back of her throat. Since moving to Los Angeles, she slowly felt herself going crazy. Her whole life was a fucking waiting game, a sick and twisted game that the universe decided would be fun to watch her playout. With every year that went by, with every decade that went by, she was slowly losing hope in ever truly knowing what ‘happily ever after’ meant.

All those years ago, that beautiful man made a promise to her that they would spend their lives together and live happily ever after. But in the year 2019, she didn’t see any end in sight. She didn’t see any chance at the happy ending that the fairy tales made up happening for her, and truthfully, it made her cynical. Did anyone really get a happy ending in life? She would never know because she’d never even get an ending.

But she did have that little flame of hope flickering inside of her because she knew that he wouldn’t want her to be without hope.

She looked back up to Benjamin and sighed tiredly. Just the thought of him took all the energy out of her. Waiting was exhausting. “I think I’m gonna call it a night.”

“Lia, I really am so sorry if I put you in a bad mood.”

She laughed breathily as she grabbed her phone and keys off the counter. “You didn’t, Ben. Just thinking about him is getting harder these days. Besides, I’m pretty sure by the time I get back home, Atlas is going to be pissed at me for being out all night.”

“No, that dog loves you.” He smiled at her, a genuine look of care and concern on his face. “Get home safe.”

Malia nodded as she hopped off of the bar stool and pushed it underneath the counter. “Yeah, you and Gina are still coming to dinner tomorrow night?”

“Of course.”

“Great. Goodnight, Ben. Love you.”

“Love you, Lia.” He waved her off and turned around to start cleaning up the bar.

Just as she was turning away to leave, her body collided with another’s. She gasped as she felt a cold liquid spill all over her front side and seep through her cotton shirt, the sudden cool and wet sensation making her drop both her keys and her cell phone. Quickly, she pinched the fabric between her fingers and pulled it away from her torso. “Shit.” She muttered under her breath, the incident putting a damper on her already somber mood.

“Oh, fuck. I am so so sorry.” A voice said. An all too familiar voice.

Malia paused her examination of the dark stain as registered that voice, silently asking herself if she really just heard that voice. She looked up slowly, knowing that that voice belonged to the ghost that had been whispering in her ear these last 75 years. When her eyes met the dark ones of the man before her, she felt every atom of oxygen leave her lungs. She could feel her heart racing rapidly, pounding into the inside of her ribcage, leaving its mark like the tattoos that she spotted peeking out from the collar of his black tank which was covered by a black leather jacket.

While she stared in awe at the man in front of her, her mind went back to one of the many, many moments she’d shared with him.

July 1509

With her eyes still closed, she moved her hand over to the other side of the large bed, hoping to feel her husband’s warm skin as she reached out. Unfortunately, she felt nothing but the wrinkled fabric of the sheets in the place he’d been when she closed her eyes last night. A slight whimper left her as she opened her eyes and looked around the room, hoping to find her partner somewhere in the room.

As she glanced over to the balcony where she could see the sun’s warm light flowing into the room, she spotted the man she’d woken up hoping to see laying beside her. She smiled fondly when she realized that he was focused on the sight of the city their bedroom overlooked. She watched him take a deep breath before tilting his head back and closing his eyes, taking in the wonderful feeling of the early morning sun on his dark skin. His broad back was turned to her, and she assumed he’d only just woken up and didn’t think she was also awake.

She slips out of bed and tip toes over to him, trying her best to be quiet. When she’s behind him, she gets off her tippy toes and rubs her hand up his bicep. She feels the muscles in his arm clench as the sudden and unexpected touch, but he quickly relaxes when he realizes who it must be.

The man opens his eyes and looks over his shoulder at her, smiling a smile that she knew he’d reserved specifically for her. He looked down at her with sleep in his eyes and love in his heart. He hummed and grabbed her hand, pulling her in front of him so they could watch the sunrise together. His strong arms wrapped around her small frame, his large hands holding onto her shoulders, his fingers stroking over her collarbone.

His lips pressed to the shell of her ear in soft and sweet kisses. She sighed as his hands moved gently over her skin, his hand trailing down to hold her hip as he held her close to his body. He moved her hair out of the way and started sucking kisses at the curve of her neck. His fingers pulled the fabric of her nightgown away from her shoulder so that no inch of her soft skin would be left untouched by his plump lips.

Her head fell back against his shoulder, his arm unwrapping from her shoulder to hike up her dress so he could splay his hand across her bare stomach. His fingers stroked over her torso, his nails grazing at her skin. He smiled against her skin and brought his mouth back up to her ear. “You make me feel so alive.”

The frown on his face was apologetic as he looked at the large dark spot on her shirt. “Seriously, I’m really sorry.”

Malia smiled at the man before her and shook her head. “It’s alright. I mean, this kind of thing happens, right?” She teased with a raise of the eyebrow and a small chuckle.

His face broke into a smile and Malia could’ve sworn she felt the earth shift underneath her feet. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” He agreed with a nod. He stuck his hand out for her to shake, she glanced down and noticed the bracelet wrapped around his wrist. She also got a glimpse of yet another tattoo.

Alive.

“I’m Calum, Calum Hood.”

She took his hand and shook it politely, grateful for his familiar touch. It made him being in front of her real. “Malia Bianchi.” She didn’t fail to notice the slight spark of recognition that displayed itself in the form of a furrow in his eyebrows and the glimmer his brown eyes.

“Malia Bianchi.” Calum repeats. But then he says just her first name quietly, almost as if he can taste the familiarity of her name rolling off his tongue. “Is there anything I can do? Can I buy you a drink to make up for the one I just spilled all over you?” He offered, his thick eyebrow raises as he offers a kind smile.

“Yeah, that would be great.” She accepted his invitation for a drink and walked alongside him to the bar. Benjamin caught her gaze and a wave of confusion washed over the middle-aged man. She subtly shook her head, silently telling him to not ask questions. Benjamin eyed Calum warily, not knowing for sure why Malia was following a stranger he’d never seen before, but he knew better than to worry too much. If anyone could take care of herself, it’s her.

Calum waved down Benjamin with two of his fingers. He smiled politely at the bartender. “Can I get another one of these?” He asked, holding up the now empty bottle of beer he’d spilled all over Malia. Ben’s eyes fell to the large wet patch he could see on Malia’s abdomen, but nonetheless he grabbed an unopened bottle of the beer her new friend had requested. Both he and Calum then looked towards Malia, quirking their eyebrows as if they were about to ask her what she wanted.

“Actually, I’ve got an idea.” She smiled softly, turning towards the tall, dark-haired man she’d met moments ago. “You a whiskey drinker?” She felt her heart race a little bit at the excited smile he flashed her. It’s been too long since she’d seen that sweet smile, far too long.

Calum nodded in reply. “Yeah. Why? What’re you thinking?”

“You’ll see. Hey, Benny boy, you still got that bottle of whiskey?” Malia asked, her friend nodding and giving her the bottle whose seal had only been broken an hour ago.

“Who’s he?” Ben mumbled underneath his breath as he passed along the bottle and two whiskey glasses.

“It’s him.” She mouthed, taking the bottle and glasses as she saw Benjamin’s face melt into understanding, his eyes moving to the man behind her before she turned back around to Calum. “Come on, wanna see if you can handle this.”

“Oh, I’m pretty sure I can handle a little whiskey.” He teased, following her to a table in the corner. Malia sat down, her loose brown curls bouncing as she pulled her chair up to the table. Calum sat across from her, setting his beer on the wooden table’s surface.

Malia’s fingers twisted off the cap of the bottle as she shook her head with an unsure hum. “I don’t know, Calum. This is some pretty strong stuff.” She said, pouring a bit into his glass and then the same amount into hers. He took the glass, his long fingers wrapping around it. She looked down at his hand and saw the tattooed initials, ‘DSH’ between his thumb and index finger.

“I hold my alcohol pretty well, Malia.” He brought the glass up and held it out, waiting for her to clink her glass with his. She only chuckled and knocked her drink against his, both of them taking a drink of the amber alcohol in their respective cups.

She had to hold back her laugh as she noticed his face scrunch up as the bitter taste hit his taste buds before he pulled his plump lips off the glass and set it back on the table. He swallowed with a visible wince and started coughing. “I hold my alcohol pretty well, Malia.” She mocked him as she rubbed her lips together to savor the strong flavor.

“What the hell was that?” He rasped out, very obviously not a fan of the butter taste the drink left in his mouth.

“Whiskey that Benjamin had imported from Scotland.” She shrugged, laughing as the man sitting in front of her coughed and cringed at its aftertaste.

His deep brown eyes widened and he shook his head incredulously, clearing his throat. His eyes went to the empty glass of hers and he was even more shocked. “Fuck. You were really able to drink all that in one go?” As he spoke, he’d say some words that would twist with a hint of an accent as they came out and she was quick to put the pieces together that he’d grown up in what sounded like Australia, but the lack of strength in his accent told her he’d been in America for a few years.

Malia shrugged, crossing her legs as she pushed a strand of her hair behind her ear. “Oh, trust me, first taste got me, too.” She informed him. “Not nearly as bad as it got you, but it’s whatever.”

Calum playfully rolled his eyes and popped open his beer with a pop as the corners of his mouth quirked up in a small smile. “Yeah, yeah. You’re more of a man than I am, I get it.” He said jokingly, both of them sharing a laugh. The laugh kinda trailed off and left them in a silence. A surprisingly comfortable silence, Calum realized.

He looked over her face, getting a better look at her. As soon as he bumped into her, she looked up at him and he’d thought she was beautiful, but getting a longer look at her left him without air in his lungs. Her hair was a light brown, fading into a lighter, almost blonde color that complimented her caramel skin as it fell past her shoulders. Her eyes seem to sparkle brightly under the dim lights of the bar as the light brown swirled with greens and oranges, her pink lips visibly full and soft.

Her long and full eyelashes fluttered against her cheeks when she blinked. The hint of a smile still shadowed on her face as she tapped her finger against her empty glass. From where he sat, she looked like she was glowing. She was absolutely beautiful.

The longer Calum looked at her and took in every little detail on her face, he realized that he had seen her before. Sure, he’s met all kinds of people living in Sydney and moving to Los Angeles, but he’d never forget a face like hers. He’d never forget someone so stunning, so it really bothered him that he just couldn’t figure out how he knew her.

She noticed his stare and bit her lip, eyebrows furrowing. “I didn’t pull you away from anyone, did I? You’re not here with anyone, are you?” She said, getting ready to apologize if she’d stolen him from anyone he might’ve been hanging out with. While she cared a great deal about her and Calum’s relationship, she still would have felt bad if she’d dragged him from his friends.

He snapped out of the trance he’d been under while trying to figure out who she was. He twisted open the beer from earlier as he shook his head. “No. Only here with a group of friends. They’ve all got their partners though, so they’re not missing me too much.”

“What about you? Don’t you have some beautiful damsel in distress who might need you?” She asked teasingly, attempting to get the question about his relationship status out of the way.

“Mm, she’s sitting right in front of me.” Calum grinned and took a swig of his beer. She was sure that the smirk he sent her way was due to the rosy blush he noticed dusting across her cheeks. She didn’t think that he’d ever be able to leave her without butterflies in her stomach.

Calum and Malia ended up talking for a couple hours, sitting at that same table in the corner, a couple empty beer bottles in front of them. The bottle of whiskey now just a hit emptier than it was when the two sat down.

“So, if I ever get into some kind of bar brawl, then I should come to you to stitch me up?” Calum light-heartedly inquired with a soft chuckle as he rubbed his fingertips over the tattoos on his left arm. Sometime throughout the night, the leather jacket became too much for the crowded bar and he took it off, hanging it on the back of his chair.

She let out a breathy laugh and nodded. “I mean, not getting into ‘bar brawls’ is preferable, but yes, if you need me to stitch you up I could do it.”

“Noted. Though, I think I’d need a phone number if I was gonna come to you in a time of need. Don’t ya think?” He looked up at her through his eyelashes expectantly. He hoped to see some sort of amusement on her face, so he was pleased when he saw just that swimming in her eyes.

Malia tilted her head to the side as she rested her elbows on the table, her finger twisting the silver ring on her right ring finger. She’d made sure to remove it from her left hand before he could ask questions and make his assumptions. His eyes glanced at the movement and noticed she’d been playing with it all night. “Ooh, that was a good segway.” She said, complimenting his flirting.

“Yeah?” He asked, receiving a nod. “Had a feeling you’d appreciate it.”

He watched as Malia went to open her mouth, but before she could, a drunken voice interrupted her. “Cal, I’ve been looking for you everywhere.” The person spoke in a slur. Malia and Calum looked over to see the man approaching them. Malia was left surprised to who she saw stumbling over to their table. The dirty blonde man with those hazel eyes she’d never forget. How could she? He was her friend once, too.

“Clearly you didn’t look hard enough. I’ve been over here all night.” Calum chuckled. “You alright, mate?”

“I’m piss drunk. Need a ride home.” Calum’s friend giggled. His eyes drifted over to her and that wave of recognition she saw wash over the Maori man earlier that glazed over him, momentarily sobering him up. “Who’s your friend, Cal?” He asked, but it seemed he already had the answer, he just need some confirmation.

“Oh, this Malia Bianchi. Malia, this is Ashton Irwin.”

Ashton nodded as his thoughts were proved correct. She could see it in the way he looked at her. He remembered her, but he wasn’t sure if she remembered him. She had a feeling he wouldn’t be able to figure out until he was sober. He stuck his hand out for her to take. “It’s very nice to meet you, Malia.”

“You too, Ashton.” She smiled kindly at him as she shook his hand, hoping to give him a hint that she knew him like he knew her. He didn’t seem to get it. She figured it was because he was too drunk.

“I guess I should get you home, huh, Ash.” Calum sighed, standing up from his chair. He grabbed his jacket and pulled it on, checking his pockets to make sure he had everything. Malia stood up with him. “Do you need someone to take you home?” He asked her.

“No, I can manage. Thank you, though.”

Calum nodded understandingly. “Well, it was nice hanging out with you. You really saved me from boredom.”

“Yeah, you too.” She grinned up at him.

“And once again, I’m so sorry about your shirt.” He winced, gesturing to the now dried patch of alcohol that had spilled all over her top.

Malia giggled and touched his hand as she stopped his apology. “Once again, it’s fine. We had a great night because of it, didn’t we?” She rubbed her fingers over his knuckles.

“We did.” He stared down at her, Malia watching his eyes flick from hers to her lips.

Ashton was watching them and even in his drunken state, he noticed the tension that was building between them. “So are you gonna exchange numbers or am I going to have to listen to Calum complain for the rest of my life about not getting the pretty girl’s number?”

Calum looked back at his friend and glared at him before turning back to the stunning woman in front of him. “How about that number? Just in case I have any bar brawls in the near future and need some patching up?” He rubbed the back of his neck, smiling nervously while Malia returned it and made him feel a little less embarrassed about his friend’s lack of a censor.

“Give me your phone.” He did as she said and pulled it from his pocket, handing it off to her for her to enter her contact information. As she typed in her name and number, she said, “I’m really hoping to get a text about something other than some injuries.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He nodded and took his phone back once she was finished. He slipped it back into his pocket and cupped the side of her neck, his fingers grazing over her smooth skin, pressing a sweet kiss to her hairline. She closed her eyes in content before he pulled away.

He pulled from her, the ghost of his touch lingering on her body. The burn of his lips against her skin still tingling. “Night, Calum.”

“Goodnight, Malia.”

-

As Malia hurried to get inside the restaurant and out of the rain, she stepped past the threshold, closing her umbrella as she looked around for the familiar face of her friend, Rebekah. She noticed a head of black hair sitting at a table restaurant by a window to the left of the front door. Malia shook out the umbrella and closed it up, walking over to the reserved table, her boots clicking against the tile.

“Lia, hey.” Rebekah looked up with furrowed eyebrows as Malia slid into the seat across from her. “What’s up? You sounded pretty urgent over the phone.”

Malia doesn’t say anything as she hooks her purse on the back of the chair and pulls out a picture from the pocket of her beige, cashmere wrap coat. She sighs shakily as she looks at the picture, setting it on the table and pushing it towards Rebekah who still looked pathetically confused.

She grabbed the picture and examined it. The picture was in black and white, a couple from what seemed to be World War II sharing final moments at a train station. The man who was dressed in his army uniform, held the woman’s cheek, his forehead resting against hers. A wedding band was wrapped around his finger.

Rebekah immediately put together the pieces when she saw the woman in the picture’s familiar face. Her red-painted lips parted, her eyes going wide as she looked up to gaze at that very same woman from across the table. Malia pushes a strand of hair that had fallen from her loose ponytail out of her face as she bites her lip nervously, fingers resting on her bottom lip.

Rebekah looked at the picture once more, flipping it over to read the writing.

C & M (1943)

“You found him, didn’t you?”

[jaybeartodd]

The Darkest of Times Pt. 3 -- Jason Todd x fem. reader

Parts: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13

Warnings: cursing, mentions of very mild violence

Story tags: @janybaby @luna-san3 @idontlikepamts @tiniowl @nicunt

Permanent tags: @korindrs @alohabucky @sarcasmismyfirstlove @mad-hatter-has-nothing-on-me @russian-potatoes

A/N: So I am going to do something crazy... I am posting two parts in one night!! I just wasn’t satisfied with this one and so skipped to the next one and ended up finishing it last night. Today, I edited this one and voila. Hope you guys enjoy :)

Only one day had passed before your masked friend showed up again in your bunker.

“What are you doing here? Who did you piss off this time? Do you have information on Anthony? You can’t possibly have more supplies?” you bombard him as he steps off the ladder. He gently grabs your shoulders.

“I am here to take you up on your dinner offer. Many but I currently none are chasing me. Sorry no. And nope I have spoiled you too much,” he answers each question and lets you go. You blink at him thoroughly surprised.

“How is the leg?” he asks gesturing towards your bandage. 

“It is doing okay, just a little sore,” you reply and gesture awkwardly, “Would you like to sit or something?” 

He smiles underneath the helmet at the light blush dusting your cheeks while you are mentally cursing yourself for it.  You find yourself yearning to see what he looks like. To hear the taunting voice in its natural state. But not nearly enough to ask him to show you.

“Um, so I was going to make Easy Mac?” you admit shamefaced and bite your lip.

“I definitely gave you more impressive meals than that, Y/N,” he acknowledges crossing his arms clearly amused.

“Yes, well, unfortunately I am not the greatest cook. Wait,” You shoot an inquisitive look at him as he parts for the kitchen, “How do you know my name?”

“I did my research,” he confesses nonchalantly. You shake your head in confusion as he starts to pull things from the small freezer you had stuffed full with the food he gave you.

“What are you doing?”

‘We are going to cook us a decent dinner.” he answers coolly and tosses something to you. You fumble but manage to catch the bagged cheese.

“Now, how do you feel about pizza?” you laugh at his absurd idea of a decent dinner.

“I think pizza would be fantastic.” you smile widely at a man who has literally killed people bounce up with an armful of ingredients preparing to make pizza.

“So,” you start nervously as he begins setting stuff down next to the stove.

“Yes?” he turns towards you curiously.

“Did you put a hole in the helmet to feed yourself through or are you just going to creepily watch me eat? Wait, do you not eat at all?” your eyes grow wide at the thought. He chuckles deeply.

“Actually, none of the above. I just wear this damn thing so much I forget it’s there.” he sighs looking at you, “And I suppose you already know my name so no hurt in knowing my face too.” He reaches behind his neck and presses something to release the helmet.  

You hold your breath as he slowly removes it. The first thing you notice is his hair. It is a deep black. Like the black you see the first second after lights are turned out. The only exception being a white streak that weaves its way down through the matted hair on his forehead not quite reaching his eyes. 

You inhale a sharp intake of breath when you notice a J shaped scar across his cheek. Your hand reaches towards it instinctively and sharp blue eyes track the movement cautiously. He snatches your hand before you can touch it, breaking your trance. In the deep blue you discern a rooted pain and fear that were hidden by the mask. You immediately drop your hand and look down. He clears his throat and grips the edge of the stove tightly.

“Well, shit.” you exclaim and he turns back towards you with an apologetic look, “I was really hoping you would be super ugly underneath the robot head.”

An amazingly charming smile graces his lips as the tension dissolves from the room. 

“So what you are saying is that I am a total babe,” he deduces nodding his head. His voice is smooth and silvery in comparison to the robot you are used to hearing. You could definitely get used to its sound. He winks at you fueling your red cheeks 

“Never said that,” you protest. He pulls out a bowl and starts pouring ingredients onto it. 

“I am pretty sure that is exactly what you said.” he declares laughing while reaching over you to grab something. 

“Well you aren’t too hideous, I suppose,” you admit sarcastically with a roll of your eyes. Not even a little bit.

After cheese ‘mysteriously’ ending up in your hair and tomato sauce not so accidentally smeared on Jay’s face, you finally end up with a decent looking pizza.

“Ah-ha!” you cheer twirling with the pan. Jason leans against the wall watching as you celebrate your victory.

“I cooked, Pete! Look!” You brag and shove the plate in your cat’s face. He returns with an uninterested meow but you do not let this curb your enthusiasm.

“Can we eat it now? You know, before it becomes collateral damage to your celebratory dance,” Jay bemuses but is secretly becoming greedy in earning your excitement. 

“Yes, okay, I think I am finished.” you announce a bit out of breath and feel your leg seriously revolting.

He sits on the edge of your bed. You lounge behind him with your wounded leg stretched out and your other one curled up so that it is holding your plate in place on your lap. 

You eat in silence and you find your eyes drawn back to his face. Your tongue is itching to inquire about the scar but as shown earlier, he wouldn’t be too thrilled with the idea. 

“Why are you still here?” he pipes up and you shake yourself from your stupor.

“In Gotham, you mean?” you ask and he hums as he chews another bite.

“Well, it is kind of embarrassing actually,” you admit chuckling nervously. He turns his face and flashes you a roguish smirk.

“You? Never!” he jokes and you punch his arm, “Pray do tell.”

“The first memory I have of the event is the absolute chaos as students rushed away from the campus screaming,” you pause to in reaction to the unpleasant image and miss the remorseful look that shoots across his face, ”I was about to get on a bus when I remembered Pete.”

The devil himself jumps onto the bed in response to his name. You lightly pet him.

“Wait, you risked your life for a cat?” Jay interrupts baffled.

“No, not exactly. I mean, yes, but there were so many buses transporting kids that I wasn’t too worried about missing this one. But when I rushed to my apartment and grabbed him an explosion went off. Everything after that is pretty fuzzy and all I remember is Anthony reaching out a hand and dragging me to safety. The buses were spooked and transportation was cut off entirely. We were with some other students that had missed the buses but eventually they were found by family and escaped with them. There is no one to come for Anthony and me. Then it became too dangerous to be above ground and Anthony knew about this place so voila.” you gesture unenthusiastically. Jay looks at you with pity and a hint of something you can’t quite distinguish.

“Uh, yeah so what about you?” you distract yourself with another bite of pizza.

“I am righting a wrong,” he answers cryptically looking off absentmindedly. Is this guy for real?

“Seriously? Should we compare lengths of information given for a second?” He smiles at you but instead of answering he points to the other bed with his pizza slice.

“So how do you know Anthony?” 

“He was in a class with me our freshman year. We hit it off and became on and off again friends. We didn’t become that close until this whole debacle.” you wave your finger around. He nods his head seemingly satisfied with the answer.

“Okay, since you know all about me, can I ask a few questions?” he analyzes you cautiously before slowly nodding.

“This one is really personal so I understand if I receive another mysterious Yoda answer,” you warn. 

He snorts and raises his eyebrows, “You are such a nerd. Hit me.”

“What is your favorite color?” you articulate in the same serious tone. His face lights up as he gives another hearty laugh. You relish in the sound untouched by a voice modulator. 

“A fan of red, I am,” he answers and you let out a laugh completely taken by surprise. He finds himself grinning widely at you as your head tilts back and your cackling noises become more contagious. He really thought he had lost this part of himself in the Lazarus Pit but you tempted him to think differently. 

You play twenty questions with him for the rest of the night finding out random details about each other. You even learn about his odd obsession with “Pride and Prejudice” which, inevitably, turned into a playful argument about who is more like Elizabeth Bennett. 

Eventually, you shoot up a hand to stifle a yawn but it doesn’t go unnoticed by him.

“We should probably call it a night,” he announces and you rub your tired eyes.

“Wimping out on me?” you tease with a lazy grin.

“Sure, let’s go with that.” he laughs and stands up to make his exit. He reaches down and grabs his helmet. He glances at you once more and you give a sleepy grin.

“I will be back tomorrow night,” he promises and you feel your heart skip slightly, “Just don’t go throw yourself into a burning building or jump off a bridge for a cat, please.”

You narrow your eyes and he flashes his smirk before putting on his helmet. 

Jay visits every night for the next week and a half. You learn a lot about each other, well at least, he learns a lot about you and he teaches you surprisingly good recipes so you don’t have to resort to microwaveable or quick.

And you are not going to even try and deny it; you look forward to his nightly visits. No offense to Pete but he is not exactly the most vocal company and you don’t remember being this happy while talking to Anthony. Most of the time it was about how doomed you were.

“Yeah, he really couldn’t have been an ogre underneath that helmet?” you sigh to Pete not exactly too keen on the feelings you are developing for the smug brute. Tonight, you decide on surprising him with your newfound cooking abilities. After working hard in the kitchen with no major fires, you display the product on the counter satisfyingly and wait for him. 

Hours pass with no sign of him leaving you slightly discouraged. You put the food away awhile back. A storm booms overhead matching the mood and you are left with only the sound of thunder and water dripping from the ceiling into buckets you strategically placed. Worry starts to prick at the back of the mind but you are mostly just angry. Angry at yourself for looking forward to this. For relying on this.

Once 2 a.m. rolls around you decide to give up and go to sleep. The storm still rages on outside and you are lulled asleep by it. The next morning you wake up half expecting him to be groveling at your feet but it remains as empty as it was when you fell asleep.

The next week pass the same way and your leg injury is mostly a distant memory. Every day that passes you become more disgruntled at being locked in the bunker doing nothing and stupid for ever thinking you could rely on Jay. This is why you decide tomorrow you are going to make your way to the Iceberg Lounge. If Jay isn’t going to help you out then you will do it yourself.

“Y/N, wake up,” someone hisses at your bedside. Your immediate response is to grab the knife you keep hidden underneath your mattress. You swing the knife up blindly and a hands catches your wrist. Instinct kicks in and you push against them only to lose your balance as well. Suddenly, you are both rolling on the floor in the pitch black while strings of curses follow closely behind You land on top of them and bring the knife onto their neck. 

“Y/N, dammit, it’s me!” they shout and you finally make out a glint from a helmet.

“Jay?” you sit up and he removes his helmet. You can barely distinguish his face in the darkness. 

“Yes, now please. Get off of me,” he commands through gritted teeth. You realize you are still sitting on him and shoot up.

“Let me turn a light on,” you fumble in the darkness until you reach the light switch. They flicker until the bunker is finally illuminated. Your attention is brought back down to Jay who is still laying on the floor. You blink at the blood spattering his uniform as well as the light bruises dotting his face.

“Wow, did you run yourself over with your own car?” you inquire sarcastically while rushing to his side.

“Ha-ha,” he spits with a spiteful glare in your direction. He sits up grabbing his stomach and groaning in pain.

“I will go get a medical kit,” you suggest digging underneath your bed for the one you have been using for your leg.

“Good idea,” he responds and winces again. You sit back down at his side with bandages and cold compresses in hand.

“Y/N?” he asks slightly irritated as you hesitate.

“What happened?” you demand. 

“Jeezes, Y/N, not now,” he swears. You just raise your eyebrows. You are sick of the lies and hidden motives. You want to know who you are saving.

“Fine. It was a family squabble. There was an explosion and I got trapped underneath some of the rubble. You happy?” he spills and you stare wide-eyed at him. Okay, so maybe you didn’t want to know everything.

You gently place the compress on the bruises on his face to reduce the swelling and he raises a hand to hold it in place. You glance down and notice his abdomen wet with blood. You grab at the armor uselessly. 

“How the hell do you take this thing off?” you ask flustered. 

“They usually make me dinner first,” he chuckles and grimaces when the laugh sends pain shooting through his body.

“Yeah, I did but you missed it,” you grumble and his face falls. You finally find straps to unhook and the armor falls so that it hangs loosely overtop of his shirt underneath. You toss it aside and gently lift up his shirt revealing several gashes. 

“Ugh,” you utter involuntarily. Jay snorts at this.

“Not the usual reaction I get.”

You ignore him and start cleaning out his wounds. He is amazingly still as you bandage him up. You examine the rest of the body and see he has a gash in his leg as well.

“You want to take my pants off next?” he wiggles his eyebrows from underneath the ice pack suggestively. You make a face at him but you do notice he is looking much more comfortable.

“Or I can spare us all and lift your pant leg,” you assert and carefully roll his pant leg up.

“Are you going to tell me about the family squabble?” you ask ripping another sterilized pad with your teeth.

“Nope.” You wind the bandage around his leg frustrated.

“Y/N,” you continue wrapping ignoring him, “Y/N!” You meet his eyes angrily.

“I know I am being an asshole but I really don’t want to drag you into this,” he says softly. 

“So you were stuck underneath that rubble for a week?” you inquire drily.  His guilt-ridden face reveals all.

“That’s what I thought,” you sigh and stand up.

“Y/N, I-”

“You can crash here. Use Anthony’s bed, it isn’t like he is returning anytime soon.” He can hear the loneliness and hurt behind your words. 

“Would you please just listen to me?”

“Oh, sweet, now you want to talk? Where have you been?” you spin on your heel and cross your arms over your chest. He stands up mildly groaning in pain.

“I can’t tell you that,” he whispers and you scoff.

“No, of course not,” you mutter and reach for the light switch, “Get some sleep. And then we are officially even. You helped me, I helped you. No need to come back.”

Your words come out steady after days of turning your sorrow into resentment out of self-preservation. You flick the lights off.

The next morning you wake up to find the other bed empty. You can’t quite tell if you are relieved or disappointed. You rub your sleepy eyes and saunter into the kitchen to make Pete his breakfast. Your eye catches a note next to a phone.

“If you need me, I am only a call away.” you set down the paper and glare at the phone. 

Anyways, you have bigger things to concentrate on. Today, you are going to get some answers as to where Anthony is.