#Part 23

[saffusthings]

second chances

mob boss! lando norris x reader

part twenty-three: all the stars

word count: 2.1k (feels shorter tho?)

warnings: dialogue heavy, messy switching of povs

twenty-two | twenty-three | twenty-four

The library was nearly empty at this hour, save for the quiet hum of the air conditioning and the occasional shuffling of pages from someone studying just as late as they were.

Lando leaned back in his chair, twirling a pen between his fingers, watching as she… folded a tiny paper star? 

He narrowed his eyes. “That doesn’t look like studying.”

She sighed dramatically, pressing the crease into the paper with a little too much force. “I can’t study anymore. My brain is fried. Done. Over. That’s it. It’s rejecting all new information.”

Lando exhaled through his nose, staring at the textbook open in front of them. They’d been at this for hours—practicing logic games, running through sample arguments, dissecting the intricacies of contracts and torts. She was good, but she was tired.

And when she got tired, apparently, she made little paper... thingamajigs?

Her head lolled onto her folded arms, barely upright at this point, eyes unfocused as she stared at the open prep book in front of her.

“Okay,” he said, flipping a page. “Logical reasoning. Let’s try one more.”

She groaned, voice muffled against her sleeve. “No.”

“Yes.”

“Noooo.”

“Yes.”

“Liam,” she lifted her head, fixing him with a mildly-impressive threatening stare, “I swear to God, I could not tell you the difference between a necessary and sufficient assumption right now if my life depended on it. Like, gun to my head? Not happening.”

Lando blinked, looking at her seriously. “Your life does not depend on it.”

“Exactly,” she declared, tossing down her highlighter. “So I’m making stars instead.”

She reached for the strips of paper she’d been folding absentmindedly for the last ten or so minutes, fingers deftly creasing them into small, perfect origami stars. The table was already littered with them, tiny constellations of her boredom.

Lando leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, watching her work with a bemused expression.

“I didn’t know you were so easily defeated.”

She shot him a glare. “I’m not defeated. I’m… on strike.”

“Against?”

“My own brain.”

He snorted, shaking his head. “Great. Can’t wait to see you argue that in court one day.”

She rolled her eyes but smiled, fingers still working on another star.

Liam stared at her for a moment too long, seeming very judgmental for someone who did not have to do the actual studying part. He narrowed his eyes. “You’re serious?”

She didn’t even look up. “Liam, I cannot study anymore.”

“You said that half an hour ago, and yet, we are still here.”

“I know, and that was the last time I could study. My brain is at maximum capacity. I have reached the limit of human intellectual absorption.” She held up a tiny, folded star between her fingers, as if to prove her point.

Lando sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. He should tell her to keep going. Should remind her that this test was important, that she couldn’t afford to slack off now. But she looked tired, and he wasn’t a monster.

“…At least make me one,” he said, nodding toward the paper scraps.

Her head snapped up, eyes suspicious but there was a glimmer of excitement there too if Lando looked hard enough. “You want an origami star?”

He shrugged. “Eh, might as well.”

For a second, she just stared at him, like she was trying to figure out if he was messing with her. But then she grinned—small, genuine, and earnest. Lando wondered what other things caused her eyes to light up like that, what simple pleasures had her glittering with this pure kind of joy.

He leaned forward, interrupting her space by plucking a finished star from the pile and examining it between his fingers. “So… is this, like, normal or whatever? Or is there a cure–”

She gasped, appalled. “Oh, shut up! I just needed to do something with my hands that wasn’t writing or highlighting or underlining—”

Lando flicked the tiny star at her forehead.

She gasped. “Liam!”

“You were talkin’ too much,” he said, leaning back in his chair, smirking. “Consider it a tactical disruption.”

She huffed, flicking one right back at him. It hit him squarely in the chest. Once a concerning number of them were sufficiently scattered about their work table, he reached over and picked one up, inspecting the delicate folds.

“Should I be worried that you can make, like, fifty of these in under five minutes?”

“It’s a completely normal coping mechanism.” She started another one, hands moving on autopilot. “Some people take smoke breaks. I make stars.”

He raised a brow. “Not sure that’s the best analogy.”

She grimaced apologetically, realizing her mistake. Liam had been extra grumpy after recently quitting, despite the fact that he claimed not to smoke in the first place. Even though it resulted in his car smelling nicer, it apparently was still a touchy subject. She shot him an apologetic look before turning back and placing another finished star in a neat little row beside the others.

Lando sighed, running a hand down his face. He should probably tell her to keep studying, but—screw it. She’d worked her ass off. If she needed a break, she needed a break.

He appeared lost in some deep thought, so he caught her off guard when he reached for another piece of scrap paper and attempted to fold his own.

“Wait, are you—”

“Shut up. I’m concentrating.”

She leaned in, curious, watching as he fumbled through the folds. By the time he finished, his “star” looked more like a crumpled piece of trash than anything else. He scowled, huffing as he flipped it over. “I changed my mind. This is stupid.”

There was a beat of silence. And then she burst out laughing.

“Wow,” she wheezed, wiping at her eyes. “That’s horrific.”

She exhaled determinedly and pushed her books away, flexing her fingers like they ached from all the writing. Then, casually, she slid a few extra strips of paper toward him. “Want another try? I can teach you.”

He frowned at the offering. “Nah, I don’t do crafts.”

“Oh, come on. Please?” She gave him a playful nudge with her foot under the table. “Don’t be lame. It’s easy, just fold here—”

She reached over, her hand grazing hers as she tried to guide the paper through the first few folds. When the instructions became too confusing, she decided that they would attempt visual learning instead. Reaching closer to the half-complete star in front of him she gently took his hand in hers as she led him through the final tucks and indentations, leaving behind with a half decent star. It was a little lopsided, but a star nonetheless.

His star.

He had turned to look at her as soon as her hand made contact with his, caught off guard by the feeling of her delicate hands resting briefly against his calloused ones. Her hair had  untucked itself from behind her ear, curtaining her face away from view momentarily. It was only a split second before she fixed it, absentmindedly tucking her back as she’d likely done thousands of times before.

She continued with her explaining and rambling as she focused completely on what she was doing, Lando couldn’t bring himself to follow suit. It was strange, inexplicable – after the split second that her hair had covered her face, Lando suddenly saw her in an entirely different light. Still fixated on her, he barely breathed. It was such a simple thing, barely a touch at all, but for some reason, his body had the nerve to register it like it scalded him, but in a sort of pleasant way.

His skin burned but he didn’t seem to mind, lost in trance while she was focused elsewhere, something about ensuring they did the right number of folds so they could have adequate paper for a neat final tuck.

Makes them cuter, she’d explained.

Lando Norris didn’t know a damn thing about origami or stars. Yet he’d never been paying more attention to something so inconsequential as he did right then. Suddenly, he was struck with the idiotic idea to unravel the star they’d made, just so they could do it all over again.

When she looked at him proudly, he cleared his throat, pulling his hand back before he could think too much about it. “You seem to be quite the expert. Think I’ll leave the paper artistry t’you.”

She rolled her eyes but smiled anyway, and he ignored the way that smile did something weird to his chest. The library stayed quiet after that, save for the sound of her folding tiny stars and him watching the way the light made them glow in her hands.

A few days later, they were crammed in his car outside the testing center, and she was flipping through well-worn flashcards like her life depended on it. She chewed her bottom lip raw, flipping through them with a frantic energy he hadn’t seen in all the time he’d come to know her.

"Alright, last one," she muttered, holding up a card. "If a contract is formed under duress—"

"It's voidable at the discretion of the coerced party," he answered.

She blinked. "You got that right."

"Obviously?” he questioned, pretending to be offended. ”I do pay attention, y’know."

She stared at the card for another second, then groaned, dropping it back onto the larger stack. "Okay. I think I'm gonna throw up."

"Don't do that," he said. "S’bad for morale. Also, I happen t’like this car. Just got it clean, too–"

"Liam."

When she glared at him, she looked like she hadn’t decided yet whether to cry or throw up. Lando can’t imagine giving some stack of papers that much power. 

What’s a score, anyway? Scores could be bought, extorted, bartered or bargained for–

He cut himself off before that line of thought could go any further. It was simply instinct, unfortunately. “Hey,” he reached over, plucking the papers right out of her hands. “You know this stuff.”

She didn’t even try to get them back from him, which should’ve been a sign to take this more seriously. But he noticed the way she fiddled with her fingers, pushing and pressing at her cuticles like it’d sooth her somehow. “This is the admissions test. For law school. What if I don’t?” she blurted.

“You do.” He was still laughing as he rolled his eyes.

She huffed, crossing her arms. “You don’t know that.”

Lando raised a brow. “I do, actually. I’ve been here every night watching you make flashcards and rewrite your notes and—look, if you weren’t already going to ace this, I’d just pay off the testing center.”

She blinked.

He tapped the steering wheel, as if actually considering it. “Or the admissions officer. Or the licensing board, now that I think about it—” His grin widened at her visible annoyance.

Why wasn’t he taking this seriously?

“Liam,” she groaned, shoving his shoulder.

He grinned but softened slightly, letting his voice drop. He turned to face her, and Y/N could practically feel her cheeks burning simply at the intensity of his gaze. Something about Liam always projected, confidence, strength, surety. 

Sometimes she wished she could be as sure as he was. 

But now, bearing the full weight of his gaze and being the sole object of his undivided attention, it felt almost like her heart was stuck in her throat. There was something about those green-gold irises that made Y/N feel like he could see all of her, like he could see right through her.

It made her pulse flutter with something foreign.

“Hey.” His voice was a near-whisper. The familiar smirk flickered, but his eyes held her captive. He gently nudged her chin, tilting her face up so she couldn't look away. "You're going to be perfect. Go out there and make me proud, yeah?"

Y/N was momentarily speechless. His touch, the way he held her in his gaze, left her breathless. She nodded, too caught in the intensity of the moment to form words. A strange mixture of fear and fascination swirled inside her as she exhaled, tension slipping from her shoulders.

“You’re the best,” she said before instinctively reaching out, squeezing his hand for half a second before quickly pulling away.

It was a fleeting gesture—a brief press of warmth—but it sent a shock up his spine, something lingering on his skin, even as she grabbed her bag and stepped out of the car, heading toward the entrance.

He watched her go, his fingers curling into a loose fist.

…Right. 

Time to lock that away and never open it again.

a/n: oh my clueless little babies. oh they're so cute!

[thevoidstaredback]

There's a feeling that people who have died and come back feel. It's not easily shared or described, but it's there. It feels different to each person. To Jason, it feels like a cup of hot chocolate that's fresh off the stove, the smell of old books, waking up in the morning and being just so warm.

Before he'd been killed, he remembered that everything was bright. It was bright and magical and he always felt like he was being hugged by his mom when she was lucid. Then, after he'd died, after he'd come back, everything was cold and empty and dull. He’d honestly forgotten what colors looked like.

He had no idea what happened, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care or be upset. The Pit that had lingered in the back of his mind, rearing its ugly head when emotions got too high, was gone. It didn’t leave a hole or anything, but he knew it was gone.

In his dreams, he remembered hearing a voice. He didn’t know what they said, just that he felt lighter.

Jason found Danny in the library just after breakfast. Bruce and Tim, with Alfred confirming, had both said that he was still in the Manor and Jason needed to talk with him.

“What are you?” he asked the second the door closed behind him.

Danny didn’t look up from the book he was reading. “A psychopomp. Why?”

Well, that explained a few things. It also brought up so many more questions. “Did you do something to me?”

“To you? No. To that memorial in the Cave? Yes.”

It was weird to not feel the Pit stirring at the mention of the case. He took a seat on the chair opposite where Danny was sitting. “What did you do? I feel lighter, and the Pit’s gone.”

Danny turned the page in his book, raising his eyebrow as he said, “‘The Pit’?” Jason shook his head and Danny continued, “You feel lighter because it’s gone. The corrupt emotions plaguing your mind? I got rid of them for you.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s my job.”

“Your job? I thought you were King?”

Finally, Danny closed his book and put it on top of the other four on the table next to him. “As King, my primary function is to guide Souls. The method varies depending on the task. Sometimes I council, other times I make a rule. Souls are free to do as they please as long as they don’t upset the balance.”

“Okay..?”

“You’re a very well learned man, Jason. Tell me, what’s a psychopomp do?”

“Guide souls to the afterlife?”

“We act as bridges, free to cross between Realms as needed, privileged to help and maintain. You feel lighter because you’re no longer lost.”

“That’s,” Jason began, “That’s a lot of information.”

“Yeah, well, it’s the least I could do.”

“What do you mean?”

“No one came to get you when you were fourteen, and you were forced to wander.”

The silence between them fell heavy.

“It’s okay-”

“It’s not okay! It’s my job to make sure no one gets looked over- that everyone finds their peace, and yet-”

“So maybe it’s not entirely ‘okay’, but it’s what I got! Besides, now I can get away with making zombie jokes and no one can say otherwise.”

Danny snorted. “Death jokes are the best.”

“Right? Especially because no one can refute them.”

The two laughed.

***

The members of the Justice League Dark were in the kitchen when he arrived, pizza and soda and wine sitting on the counter despite it being ten in the morning.

“Good marrow, everyone,” Phantom yawned.

The others in the room all started yawning and he smirked. It worked every time.

“You’re sounding very Kingly this morning.” Deadman said, “Something happen?”

“Meh,” he shrugged, “It comes and goes.”

There was a tiny smile on Raven’s face. “Just like the one brain cell you have?”

“Exactly!” Phantom grinned, “She gets it!”

Zaranna gasped dramatically. “You have a functioning brain cell?!”

“Sometimes,”

“Alright, alright,” Constantine said through another yawn, starting everyone else up again, “Have some pizza and tell us what the hell you meant last night.”

Phantom looked at the wine. “This early in the morning?”

Pulling the bottle closer to herself, Zatanna scowled, “Shut up.”

Raven yawned again. “Isn’t there something to stop all this yawning?”

The answer, somehow, is no. Not in any of the Infinite Realms is there a way to make yawning not contagious.

Sitting at the table, Phantom retold his night. Obviously, he left out details that didn’t include them, skipping over them with the explanation of Kingly Duties. After a full hour of talking, the discussion was finally opened to the table.

“Let me get this straight,” Deadman said, “Batman’s father-in-law is maybe probably trying to get into the Realms to challenge you to a duel?”

Phantom shrugged, “I mean, yeah? Baty and his cauldron think so at least. And the evidence points to them, so I’m inclined to believe.”

“That’s great and all,” Zatanna interrupted, “But what about the Coma Case? There are still new reports coming in every day,”

“That’s what I don’t get about this,” Phantom agreed, “I think we’ve got two different cases going on.”

“Completely unrelated?” Raven asked.

“Completely unrelated.”

Constantine sighed heavily, throwing back whatever was left in the flask in his hands. “You said you talked to Lady Gotham?”

“Yeah,”

“What’d she say?”

“In so many words? She didn’t give us the simple answers she had because…” he trailed off, realization hitting him.

“‘Because’,”

“Because someone’s working for the enemy.”

“What?!”

“Either whoever’s behind this has someone on the inside or- Shit!” Everyone stood with him, chasing after him as he flew to the basement door. “Deadman, with me!”

“Yes, sir!”

“Zatanna, start looking for any Realms Beings in Gotham. Raven, Connie, I need you guys to make sure not a hint of anything has spread beyond us and Batman.”

“What the hell is going on?!” Constantine demanded.

“No time to explain!” Opening the door, Phantom and Deadman disappeared into the Infinite Realms.

Part 22 Part 24

[baurie]

THE WHIPLASH I JUST GOT FROM HEARING JON AGAIN OML

[onceuponapuffin]

Fanatic Intervention Part 23!!!

Okay, so yes this took me a while, but it's here :)

Let's do this.

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*********************

With a click, the tripod locked into place. Jeremy went behind his recording phone to check the angle one more time. It looked perfect – he would be dead center of the screen as he started his latest masterpiece. He nodded in satisfaction and hit record. He needed to get as much footage as he could before Doug showed up to “bust” him. As much as his viewers loved watching him do this stuff and get away with it, the numbers always jumped whenever he “got caught” and had to get himself out of trouble. Lucky for him he had friends at the police station who were happy to play along for the right price. Doug, specifically, was his most reliable buddy cop. He had like, 3 kids, so he was always happy to have the extra cash. Jeremy was pretty sure he’d taken them to Disney World on it last year. Jeremy’s dad may not have been around all that much, but one thing he’d made sure Jeremy learned early was the power of holding others’ financial stability in the palm of your hand.

Jeremy stepped into the camera’s line of sight, made it look like he was adjusting the angle, then he winked and ran a hand through his hair. Gotta look cool for the camera. Then, he picked up a bottle of spray paint, shook it, and tossed into the air. He missed the catch, but that’s alright, his editor Luca would make it look good in post. Then he started painting. The comments had asked for him to paint something called Trollface. Honestly he’d had to Google it and he thought it was the weirdest thing he’d ever seen, but if it got him views and followers, then sure. He could see the faint chalk lines that his artist Matteo had drawn for him ahead of time. Luca would erase those in post. With another smile at the camera, Jeremy pressed the trigger, and began painting Trollface on the side of the federal office building.

*******************************

Okay, you decide, the time has come. You need to say something.

“Um, hey everyone?” You start as Crowley steers deeper and deeper into the busy streets of LA, “I think the car is a Swiftie.”

Aziraphale sighs and looks at Crowley. “Is this one I want to ask about? I still rather regret asking last time”

“Listen, every song for the last three hours has been Taylor Swift,” You insist, “And the second someone mentions it, the song changes to a different artist, but then it just goes right back!”

Anathema raises an eyebrow at you.

“Don’t give me that look,” You say to her, “You are not someone who should be looking at me like I’m crazy.”

“Maybe it’s just an AI feature,” Sardis suggests, “You know, it sees that there are Taylor Swift songs on our playlist, and Taylor Swift is a pretty big deal right now, so it just gives us more of her songs.”

“No,” You say, “It’s the car, I’m sure of it--” You’re prevented from saying anything else because Crowley slams on the break and leans on the horn. Someone had the audacity to try and cut him off. You have no idea who would try something like that, but you are very sure that they will find themselves regretting it later. To your right, you see Sardis shaking his head. Anathema is swearing under her breath in at least two languages, and Aziraphale is holding on to anything he can get a grip on as though his life depends on it. You, for your part, are trying a bunch of breathing techniques to try and shake off the shock of what just happened. While inhaling and counting on your fingers, you happen to look out the window, and you get the breath knocked out of you for a second time.

“WAIT I THINK I SEE HIM!” You scream, pointing out the window. Crowley slams on the brakes again and swerves in the direction you’re pointing. A corner of your brain is once again comforted to realize that he does actually use his mirrors. Aziraphale shrieks and grabs the overhead handle with both hands. Anathema swears really loudly, but Sardis actually looks where you pointed and becomes rather excitable himself.

“THAT’S HIM! THAT’S HIM!” Sardis yells, confirming your suspicion.

What are the chances, right? Yeah, okay we’ve done this bit before, I’m not gonna harp on it. You get how this goes by now. Suspend your disbelief – we have things to do.

The kid in question – Jeremy – is busily vandalizing the side of an office building. He’s within view of the street, which honestly you find really annoying. Couldn’t he at least have the decency to go around back? No, you figure, probably not. That tik tok seemed to suggest that he wanted to get caught. How on earth were you going to convince him to help save the world?

The car comes to a screeching halt right behind the boy who, weirdly enough, doesn’t seem alarmed by the sound. He doesn’t jump or anything. At least, not until he turns around, then he almost leaps three feet in the air. There’s suddenly surprise and confusion on his face as Crowley cuts the engine and hops out. Aziraphale also scrambles out the door, but you figure that’s probably less about the mission and more about Crowley’s driving.

Jeremy drops his spray paint and runs.

Aziraphale groans. “Must it be running?” He asks no one in particular. There isn’t any time to reply before Sardis goes rushing past the lot of you.

“You coming slowpokes?” He calls over his shoulder.

“No!” Aziraphale answers, “You’re doing quite well on your own! We’ll catch up with you!”

“Speak for yourself!” Anathema huffs at the angel. Then she picks up her skirt and starts running after Sardis, heels and all. You look over your shoulder and see that Crowley and Aziraphale have hopped back in the car. Wait, wait, you’re gonna get left behind. After only a second of indecision, you book it back to the car behind the husbands and you only just manage to get your other foot in the door before the door slams behind you and Crowley takes off at full speed. How does he know where he’s going? You have no idea, but you’re not asking questions. Besides, you’re busy being thrown around the backseat because he took off too fast for you to put on your seatbelt.

“OI! OUTTA THE WAY!!” He yells, full volume, laying on the horn. The traffic bends to his will, as do the lights. There are miraculous spaces for Crowley to weave between cars, every light is green, and he drives through construction zones without any trouble. Once you finally manage to sit back up and click in a seatbelt (it immediately locks tight, which is uncomfortable, but you decide it’s the better of your options), you glance at Aziraphale, whose eyes are shut tight. You vaguely register that the car has started playing Taylor Swift again.

“You okay, Azi?” You call. The seatbelt is constricting you too much to get his full name out. Fortunately he seems MUCH too distracted to notice.

“As long as Crowley doesn’t discorporate us, I’ll be fine,” The angel mutters. The look on his face says otherwise.

“Yeah, Crowley please don’t kill us,” You call to the driver’s seat. From the rearview mirror you can see the smile on his face, and just how yellow his eyes are getting.

“We’ll be FINE,” He says through his devilish smile, as a maniacal laugh rises in his throat. Well, nice to see someone is enjoying themselves.

“Good lord,” Aziraphale mutters. Honestly, you can’t tell if he’s trying to be sassy or if he’s actually praying. Could easily be either.

You close your eyes, and do your best not to throw up.

After what feels like too long, the car finally drifts to a screeching halt. You’re thrown sideways, and find yourself feeling grateful for the hug of the seatbelt – it’s the only thing keeping you from being thrown against the door like a ragdoll. The doors and seatbelt unlock with a click, and your door is thrown open for you. It takes you a second to get your bearings, and as soon as you step out of the car, you see three figures running toward you at full speed. Jeremy, and right behind him, Sardis and Anathema.

Jeremy’s attention is behind him. Clearly he doesn’t expect anyone to have gone around. By the time he looks back, he’s going to fast to stop – and he bumps into Crowley.

“Well well well,” The demon says, towering over the teen, “It’s been a while, now, hasn’t it?”

❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ 🖤

As per usual, feel free to tell me your thoughts and ideas in the comments :)

I'll to my best to keep the updates on some kind of normal-ish schedule.

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[the-spine-eater]

"You are in a dining room, at the far end of the table. You are tied to a chair"

*piano plays sweetly*

[forgers-therapist]

TINY people (part 23)

Chapter 90

[silver-sporks]

Arthur ATE A MAN??? And they just NEGLECTED TO TELL US THAT INFORMATION UNTIL NOW???

also i am crying. he’s back. 🥹

[hazbin-luciferalastor]

[locitapurplepink]

Taglist: @photogirl894 , @kanerallels , @bigfrozensix , @lucy-shining-star , @animationfan3000 , and anyone else who's a fan of this series.

[spewagepipe]

The Evolution of RPGs: Tactics

In 1954, Charles S. Roberts founded The Avalon Game Company, (later redubbed "Avalon Hill") in order to publish his recently invented board game: Tactics, a game that was clearly remixing design elements from various games of the now centuries-old German tradition. Tactics is of no particular note to RPGs in terms of its design, but does represent a critical element of the cultural surroundings. It was the first ever commercially published board wargame in American history, and, being sold as a self-contained and complete product, it possessed strict and standardized rules (unlike the ad hoc rules typical of its contemporaries in the miniatures wargaming hobby). Avalon Hill's many subsequent games and its in-house magazine would come to set the gold standard for wargames everywhere. Their dominating presence galvanized the miniatures wargamers into forming their own competing publishers, and therefore into codifying their smattered folk rules and common practices into more discrete, definite game titles.

Click here for the index of my Evolution of RPGs posts.

[ejzah]

In Miss Blye’s Class, Part 23

***

Kensi woke up surrounded by warmth, bright sunlight seeping through her closed eyelids. She turned her head to the side, pressing back into the warm body behind her.

“Morning,” Deeks mumbled against her neck, his arm around her waist tucking her more securely against him.

She twisted her head just enough to see his face. His eyes were still closed, hair the most unruly she’d ever seen it, a slight smile playing at his lips.

“Hey,” she whispered, brushing a few curls out of his eyes. His upper lip lifted in a half-smirk, and he shifted against her, reminding Kensi that neither of them had bothered to put any clothes on before falling asleep. Remnants of last night drifted back to her with the feeling of Deeks’ skin on hers, and, absurdly, she felt her skin flush at the thought.

“So, last night was…”

“Fun.” Deeks filled in for her.

“Yeah, it was,” she agreed.

“The kind of fun I haven’t had in a long time,” he continued.

She couldn’t quite get a read on his voice, so she shuffled around in his arms, until they faced each other. He didn’t look like he was suffering from overwhelming guilt, but this had been a giant step, one that he might feel differently about in the light of day.

“And here I thought you’d been having wild, passionate nights with all the St. Bridget’s staff,” she teased. She cupped his cheek, caressing the top of his cheekbone with her thumb. “You don’t regret it, do you?” She glanced down between them, as though he might have any doubts about what she was referring to.

“Absolutely not.” His response was so fast and fervent, Kensi couldn’t help grinning. He slid his hand from her waist to her hips, squeezing lightly. “I didn’t regret anything that happened in the last 22 hours. What about you? I might be a little out of practice at certain…things.”

“Not from my perspective,” Kensi disagreed. “You seem plenty skilled to me.” She slid her thumb to the left, brushing it over his bottom lip. “Especially with these.”

His mouth widened in a delighted grin, even as his cheeks tinged a dull red. “Good to know.”

“But even if hadn’t been the best sex I’ve ever had, last night still would have been wonderful.” Kensi paused a beat, not out of hesitation, but for emphasis. “Because I love you.”

Deeks’ expression softened into something more tender, and he tugged her closer. “I love you too,” he said, covering her mouth with his.

They settled into the kiss, Deeks slotting his leg between her, her hand tunneling up into his hair. Kensi groaned softly, parting her lips for him. He trailed his hand up her side, leaving a path of fiery sensation that had Kensi pressing against him more urgently.

Deeks pulled back several moments later with a breathy laugh; his chest rose and fell unevenly against hers as he dragged in deep breaths. She could have easily continued on for another round, but she was just as content to lie her with him, cuddling and making out.

“Are you hungry?” he asked, and she shrugged one shoulder.

“Depends on what you’re offering. Your gourmet dinner last night, and all the other homemade food, has ruined me for plain old pop tarts and cheerios.”

“Anything your heart desires.” He inclined his head. “As long as it’s some kind of eggs, pancakes, or French toast.”

“Mm, French toast sounds delicious,” Kensi mused, suddenly starving at the mention of food.

“Ok, let me grab some shorts and I’ll get started on it,” Deeks said. He patted her thigh affectionately, before gently shifting it off his own leg. “There’s some shirts in the bottom drawer of that dresser,” He pointed across the room. “but I’m not sure any of my pants will fit you.” He grimaced apologetically.

“Actually, I have a bag in my car,” Kensi confessed, pressing her lips together as she gave Deeks a sly side eye.

Deeks returned it with a playful smirk. “How presumptuous of you, Miss Blye. I approve.” Dropping a kiss on her forehead, he slid towards the edge of the bed, and stood, giving Kensi a nice view as he walked towards the dresser, and bent slightly to grab shorts.

“Kens?”

Her head snapped up at the sound of her name, and she found Deeks watching her with an amused grin. “I’ll grab your bag for you,” he offered, tugging on the shorts, and a shirt (which Kensi personally thought was a pity). “As much as I might enjoy it, the neighbors are pretty strict about decency laws.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Kensi called after him as he sauntered out of the room. He came back a couple minutes later with her bag and a glass of water, leaving her to wash up and change.

Kensi wasn’t certain she would sleep with Deeks last night, but when she’d gotten ready for their date, she’d figured it was best to be prepared. She was infinitely glad for it now as she quickly showered, using the eucalyptus shower gel Deeks had in his shower.

When she came down roughly 15 minutes later, she found Deeks in full cook mode. She leaned in the doorway, studying him for a moment; his hair was wet and he’d misplaced his shirt, making her think that he’d showered too.

“You know, you’re spoiling me,” she told him, crossing the rook to wrap her arms around his waist. His own hands were busy dipping slices of bread into a shallow pan of egg mixture, so he settled on a kiss, arching the bridge of her nose.

“I don’t mind. I like cooking for people,” he said. “Especially you.” He winked again, shimmying his shoulders against her.

There was a playfulness to him now that she hadn’t seen before. It had always been there, but now it felt freer, less apologetic, or like he felt he needed to hold himself back for her. She liked it.

“Well, is there anything I can do? Keeping in mind what you know about my cooking skills.”

“You want to flip the bread?” he asked, placing two slightly dripping pieces on a piping hot griddle. “Normally Caleb does it, so you know it’s a highly prestigious position.”

“Oh, then maybe I should just stick to cutting up strawberries or something,” Kensi said with mock worry. “Those seem like pretty high expectations to meet.”

“Nah, Caleb usually burns at least one piece, which is an improvement, and once melted an entire spatula. It’s still the best French toast, ever every time.”

Kensi smiled, easily imagining Caleb balancing on a stool with a pair of oven mitts, wielding a spatula with scorched pieces of toast.

Rooting around until she found a suitable utensil, she took up position at the griddle, working side-by-side with Deeks. It felt pleasantly domestic, and they had a dozen pieces made up in no time.

While she brought over the towering plate of French toast, Deeks grabbed butter, syrup, and a few other toppings. He watched her pour a ridiculous amount of syrup over her serving, but didn’t comment, letting her eat her overly sweet breakfast in peace.

“So, when Caleb and your mom be back?” she asked as she made her way through a second piece, albeit more slowly.

“They usually head back after dinner,” Deeks said. “If it’s much later than that, Caleb’s way too keyed up to sleep.”

Kensi leaned her cheek on her folded hands, smiling at the affection in his voice. “I bet you miss him.”

“I do. Though, I’ll admit he wasn’t on my mind as much as usual the last 12 or so hours. Something kept me occupied.” He slanted Kensi a wicked grin, dragging his eyes from the V of her shirt, slowly up to her lips.

Kensi squirmed, pressing her thighs together, instantly turned on by his lowered voice, the gleam in his eyes. It was ridiculous, like he’d flipped some kind of switch in her.

“So, that means we still have a good 6-7 hours to ourselves,” she concluded.

“Yeah. Why, what did you have in mind?”

“Oh, I have a few ideas,” Kensi said, dropping her hand under the table to cover his thigh. She explored the inseam of his boxers lightly, appreciating Deeks’ sharp inhale.

***

A/N: I hope this update is worth the rather long wait. Thanks for sticking with me as I continue this story.

As I’ve mentioned several times on other posts, the notification issues on ff.net have not been resolved. So, if you are subscribed to my profile or a specific story and aren’t getting email updates, I’d suggest going directly to my ff profile and looking for that specific story. It might take a couple of tries for the link to work (🙄).

[knightprincess]

Forgive Me (Echo x Medic Reader) Part 23

Words: 1.9K Warning: This one is a little heavy - mentions of depression, PTSD and Torture (Reconditioning) Pronouns Used: She/Her - (use of Y/N) Note: I am having trouble accessing the series masterlist. I will link it as soon as I can.

5 Months Later

(Y/N) wandered around her lab on Tantis, a depressed sigh escaping her as she continued her repetitive routine—one she hated as much as she did the empire. Snap should have been happy, even hopeful Omega had escaped the secret scientific base with Crosshair, but instead, she felt the opposite: terrified. The empire had discovered how valuable the young clone was and would hunt her down as if she were their prey. 

"We have a new subject for you," came a demanding voice from behind (Y/N), the voice of a female scientist. Snap hadn't bothered to learn her name, as she hadn't expected to be there for so long. The plan was to get as much information as possible within a four-week period, and then she'd be extracted. (Y/N) turned, nodding silently, before retrieving her datapad, if only to find out who the poor soul she had been charged with tormenting this time was. She preyed on the maker. It wasn't another clone she knew, a prayer that was quickly rejected as her heart sank the moment her saddened eyes found the identification number. CC-3636. 

"Wolffe," quickly whispered Snap, as her voice became trapped in her tightening throat and the familiar anxious feelings of the walls closing in around her and being trapped reared its head again. She'd hoped to see the Commander again, but not like this. She still hadn't forgiven herself for turning Tech into a Shadow, one of the many operatives at the empire's beck and call. She knew Wolffe wouldn't be as terrible, but it wouldn't be easier either. He was a friend, a brother to her, and now she was tasked with turning him into another of the empire's shadow assassins. 

(Y/N) soon left her quiet lab, and with dread clouding her mind, she headed toward the large round room reserved for the reconditioning she was to put all shadow operatives through. The torture room as she had unceremoniously labeled it. Ever since Omega and Crosshair had escaped, security had been far tighter; Mistress Nala Se had been locked away in a cell as punishment for her part in the breakout. Where as Emerie Carr had been promoted to head scientist of Project Necromancer. The base seemed colder and grew colder the more the empire strangled the wider galaxy. 

The moment Snap entered the rounded room, she was met with silence. Two TK Troopers stood guard over Wolffe as if he were a dangerous criminal; the Commander himself at least seemed peaceful. There was little doubt in (Y/N)'s mind that he'd been dosed with something before being transported to the secretive scientific base. 

"You may leave," spoke Snap, her voice cold and sharp as it cut through the silence and ricocheted off the durasteel walls. Both plastid-clad men seemed confused by her dismissal of them, sharing a glance before turning their attention back to her. 

"Negative, Ma'am," replied the taller of the two, shaking his head as if to convey the message quicker. "We have orders to stay for your safety. The clone is a dangerous insurgent," he uttered; the unnamed soldier had expected to see fear flash across (Y/N) features. Instead, her expression remained neutral, even more so as she buried the truth she knew. Wolffe wouldn't hurt her, although she'd admit she was terrified he was there. She questioned whether Tarkin had figured out where Wolffe's loyalty truly lay or if the commander had done something to earn the wrath of the empire. 

"That was not a request," replied (Y/N), her bottled-up anger and self-hatred slipping through ever so slightly. "If you wish to stand guard, then do so outside the room. Being within will only distract me from my work," she added, turning her attention back to the datapad as she walked over to the small office and storage area, retrieving the medical supplies needed to complete the first of many tasks. 

Wolffe seemed to regain consciousness as Snap went about the assessment. His sight blurry as he glanced around the room, but as it began to focus, the commander panicked, even more so upon becoming aware he was in an unknown place, a laboratory of some kind, restrained by the wrists, ankles, and several other areas, including his head. He'd been able to yell out to be let free of the restraint demand even when (Y/N) came into view, reaching to release the restraint around his head and loosening those around his torso and wrists. 

Although some relief had washed over his clouded mind, it was quickly overcome with concern. (Y/N) was before him now but far different than he'd observed her to be in the past. There was no warmth to her now; she had closed herself off completely as if to protect herself and what remained of her fractured heart. Her touch was still gentle but didn't have the same comfort as before. It was as if the empire had broken her down and molded what remained into something else. As they did with his slowly disappearing brothers.

"(Y/N)," whispered Wolffe, wanting to reach out to her but found it impossible with the restraints. "Snap," he called, thankful that she had turned her attention to him. She quickly moved to wipe away the stray tear running down her cheek as if rubbing away any sign of weakness the empire could exploit. But despite her best efforts, she couldn't suppress her true self when someone called her by the affectionate nickname. 

"They want to repurpose you," whispered (Y/N), a ragged sigh escaping her as she tried to recompose herself long enough to explain what she was tasked with doing. "I'm supposed to recondition you and ensure you're loyal to the empire. You'll become a shadow like Tech and Cody," she added, unsure how to feel when Wolffe had understood so quickly what that meant, what he'd be put through to achieve the goal. 

"Were they successful?" questioned Wolffe, digging for even the littlest shred of hope. (Y/N) only nodded, Cody had been one of the first she'd succeeded with, he stopped fighting after she took over from Rampart. Tech had been successful, too, although his deviant nature had yielded some interesting results and a slither of hope. "Remember Wabani?" asked the commander, resigning himself to the fate ahead. He would have fought tooth and nail to escape if it were anyone else. He would have made things as difficult as possible. Snap was different. Only now did it truly resonate with Wolffe the meaning behind Gregor's words. Snap was the weapon the empire had against the clones. 

"Forgive me," voiced Snap, gently squeezing his hand before the interrogation droid floated closer. Just like with Cody and Tech, she intended to botch the reconditioning, if only so it could be reversed. However, it didn't bring her any comfort, knowing each of them would remember the torture, the agonizing pain, and the scary after-effects of it all. Like Crosshair did, although (Y/N) wondered if the sniper had realized he was the key to finding the secret scientific base. 

The reconditioning had only partially worked on Crosshair; his deviant and defiant nature had prevented most of it from sticking. Although the torture had left its mark, the nerve damage was a constant reminder, as were the flashbacks and nightmares. Upon realizing nothing wouldn't permanently stick with the sniper, Snap had taken a leap of faith, implanting a small microchip with the information she'd recovered and the coordinates of the base. Crosshair had everything, even if unknowingly. Even if she were caught, her mission would succeed the moment those fighting against the empire recovered the information. 

"Mistress," voiced CX-2 from beneath his helmet, his voice mechanical and unrecognizable via it. With his return, Snap knew he had successfully retrieved Omega. The civvi medic knew why he'd come to her. All Shadow troopers knew to find her upon return to undergo a medical evaluation. 

"Are the others okay?" questioned Snap, adverting her eyes away from Wolffe's torture. His screams and howls of pain would haunt her, just like the others before had. CX-2 could only nod, moving to block her view of the interrogation droid and Wolffe helplessly strapped down to the operating table. As if shades of his old self shone through, the shadow operative reached for her datapad, turned off the droid with little hesitation, and completed the actions that Snap was paralyzed to do. 

Carefully, he nudged her to the small lift, the round observation tower servicing as her medical bay for all the Shadow Operatives. Upon perching on the end of the examination table, he removed the black helmet, placing it at his side, his vision turning blurry now, only outlines of objects and shadows moving across the room. (Y/N)'s presence being the clearest thing there. 

"Your injuries are almost healed," spoke Snap, her voice calmer now as her gentle hand traced the scars scattering his face and neck. "Is there any pain? Your eye, neck, or cybernetics?" she asked, detecting Tech's inner struggle. His deviant nature had prevented the reconditioning from permanently sticking but had resulted in what was equal to two worlds colliding within his head, essentially doubling his suffering and pain. "The migraines, are they any better?" 

"Anyone else would have deemed me a lost cause," Tech commented in response, focusing his blurred vision on her. His miss-matched eyes were similar to Wolffe's now. One is golden brown, and the other is a cold, clouded silver. "There is little you can do to fix my vision, Cyare. My goggles shattered the way they did, and the shards from the train did more damage than I care to admit." 

"And I did further damage with the reconditioning," replied (Y/N), stepping back in an attempt to regain her slipping composure. She'd reached her limit weeks ago but forced all her feelings into a little box and buried them at the back of her mind to try and fix those she was forced to break. She did this to pull off a facade of confidence and hide the true terrified little girl she truly was inside. 

"CX-2," called Hemlock the moment he entered the tinted room. As per usual, he had a calm and reserved aura about him, yet his eyes glistered with anger, even malice—an unusual sight, to say the least. "Take her into custody. Ensure she's properly secured in a cell," he ordered, ignoring the confusion and fear appearing across Snap's features. Instead, Hemlock's attention turned to Wolffe, helplessly strapped to a table, in and out of consciousness as he tried to order his scrambled thoughts and senses. The recent call with Tarkin only proved to shake Hemlock's trust in those around him, even more so if the admiral's theory was correct. (Y/N) was working with the tormented commander and against the empire. 

"It's only until my investigation is complete. Admiral Tarkin brought a concerning theory to my attention," reported Hemlock, cluing the civvi medic in and alerting her to her dire situation, even more so when it dawned on her that her time for escape and rescue had passed. The only way she was likely to leave the facility was if the empire wanted her to. 

Series Masterlist

[mccall-muffin]

Love vs. Hate - Part 23 // Joe Liebgott x OC

Summary: The days go on in the freezing hell, but there seems no end to it. Though Liv is finally reunited with Joe, the loss of their friends and fellow soldiers is taking a big toll on them.

Warnings: Language, War wounds, death

A/N: Okay, okay, okay, okay. I'm BACK! I'm literally not happy with that chapter and I'm soooooo sorry, it took me so long. I had a massive writers block and now this is what came out of it. I'm sorry, I'll try to do better with the next.

Here is my Masterlist

Taglist: @brassknucklespeirs, @liebgotts-lovergirl, @lieutenant-speirs, @mads-weasley, @emmylindersson

January 2nd, 1945 - Bastogne, Belgium

This morning, I finally gather the courage to approach Babe. Over the last few days, he's been avoiding me, and the tension between us is palpable.

I spot him standing with the others, waiting for food, and I steel myself for the conversation. As I walk up to him, he glances up but quickly averts his eyes, and I can feel the uncomfortable atmosphere surrounding us. Taking a deep breath, I call out his name, "Babe."

He responds with a slightly sarcastic tone, "What is it, Sarge?"

"I need to talk to you. Now," I assert, gesturing with my head for him to follow me away from the others.

Reluctantly, he joins me, crossing his arms defensively. "What is it?" he asks, clearly on guard.

I sigh, looking down for a moment before meeting his gaze. "Listen, umm... I'm really sorry about Julian," I say, and Babe finally looks at me, but he remains silent. "You know that I didn't have any other choice."

Babe snorts, shaking his head. "You know the funny thing about that sentence is, that it's bullshit. You always have a choice."

His words weigh heavily on me. "Maybe that's true. And yesterday, I made that choice. I chose not to let you die, too. Do you even get that? If I had let you go for him, you would be as dead as he is right now!"

"So now you want me to thank you for saving my life? Is that it?" Babe retorts with bitterness.

"No, for fuck's sake! Of course not!" I reply, my frustration evident. "I just want you to understand what I did. I don't need you to like my decisions because, hell, I couldn't care less about that. I just want you to understand them because you are in my platoon, and I want to look out for my men."

There's a moment of silence as Babe absorbs my words. He rubs his nose, sniffs, and looks at me again, his eyes glazed with emotion, and his lip trembles.

"He was my friend, you know?" he finally speaks, his voice shaky.

"I know," I respond gently, nodding slowly in acknowledgment.

"I know what you settled with him," I continue, my voice softening. "I'm glad you can keep your word."

Confusion flickers across Babe's face. "What do you mean, Liv?"

"We were able to get him. Julian," I say, reaching into my pocket and pulling out his Class ring, wallet, watch, and dog tags.

Babe is taken aback, almost unable to comprehend my words. "You-? What?" he stammers, as I hand him his fallen comrade's possessions.

"We sent out another patrol this morning. The Krauts retreated, and we found Julian. I don't think they even noticed him yet," I explain, my voice tinged with sadness.

"If you want... If you want, you can look at him," I offer softly, placing a comforting hand on Babe's arm, though he quickly shakes his head.

"I- I can't," he whispers, his emotions overwhelming him. Then, he looks at me with teary eyes, hesitating before asking, "Did you- did you lead...?"

I press my lips together, knowing what he's trying to ask. With a heavy heart, I nod, and Babe breaks down, pulling me into a tight embrace.

"Thank you!" he whispers, and I gently stroke his back, offering comfort in the face of loss.

"It's okay," I reassure him, understanding the depth of his emotions.

As Babe returns to the others, my attention is caught by Joe, standing before me. Adrenaline courses through my veins, and I nervously bite my lips as he eyes me. Trying to hide the scar under my left eye, I lower my head to the left.

"Liv," Joe whispers, stepping closer to me. My lips begin to tremble as he places a hand under my chin, gently lifting my head. "Hey," he says softly, looking me in the eye. "Why are you trying to hide from me?"

I've imagined this moment countless times, but now I feel ashamed of my scars and vulnerability.

"It looks terrible," I admit, barely audible, and the redness under my eye only worsens my insecurity.

"Liv," Joe says firmly, his expression filled with tenderness. Then, he envelops me in his arms. "I don't care about any of that. The main thing is that you're standing here in front of me, alive!"

Tears well up in my eyes as I press myself against his chest, feeling the warmth and security he provides.

God damn, how can one person always evoke such a profound reaction in me?

As we hold each other in the freezing forest, surrounded by the sounds of war and the remnants of tragedy, the intensity of our emotions overwhelms us both. Joe's arms tighten around me, and I find comfort in his embrace. The world around us fades, and it's just the two of us, connected in this moment of vulnerability.

"I missed you, Liv," Joe whispers into my ear, his warm breath sending shivers down my spine. "I couldn't stop thinking about you when I was away."

"I missed you too, Joe," I reply, my voice barely above a whisper. "I was so relieved when I heard they pulled you away. But now you're here again. What if we won't make it through this fucking hell?"

"We're both still here, though," Joe says softly, lifting my chin with his fingers so I meet his gaze. "And I'm not going anywhere, not without you."

The weight of the war, the losses, and the constant danger seem to fade away when we're in each other's arms. In this desolate place, I find solace in the bond we've forged, knowing that I'm not alone in the midst of the chaos.

As I pull away, I feel a sense of tranquility, knowing that we have each other to lean on in this tumultuous time.

"I don't know what the future holds, Joe," I say, a hint of sadness in your voice. "But right now, being here with you, that's all that matters."

Joe nods his expression a mixture of determination and love. "We'll get through this together, Liv. I promise."

As we stand together, hand in hand, you both know that the road ahead won't be easy. The war continues to rage on, and the future remains uncertain. But at this moment, we find strength in each other and the knowledge that we have something worth fighting for.

"We should head back," Joe says, breaking the silence. "They'll start wondering where we went."

I nod, reluctantly pulling away from his embrace. As we walk back toward the others, I know that our relationship is no longer a secret. And while the dangers of fraternization persist, I find comfort in the fact that I have a love that keeps me grounded amidst the chaos.

January 3rd, 1945, Bastogne, Belgium

After holding the line at Bastogne we were once again called on to help push the Germans back through the Bulge. I stand next to Buck, overlooking a map with Lip and Buck. Bill stands next to us and Muck and Penkala also. We have the map on Don's back.

"We were here this morning and then we came this way", Buck explains. "Right, so, right here's gotta be the logging road coming into here, which means we get right there", he says showing it with his finger and then hitting Don on the head.

"Hey!", Don says. "Take it easy." I chuckle and nudge him.

"Stop crying, Malark or I'll nail it to your head", Buck then says and I chuckle.

"Good, it's made of wood", Bill says and Buck is looking at me, before he nods. I nod back at him.

"Guarnere, move them out, let's go", Buck then says.

"Yes, sir. 2nd Platoon, let's go!"

I'm glad to be out of my foxhole and moving again. Even if only to get warm. We are being sent to clear the Bois Jacques the woods near the town of Foy in preparation for what we knew would be the eventual assault on Foy itself.

During that 1,000 yard attack through the woods we encountered German machine gun fire and had a couple of casualties. But, for the most part, met little resistance. Hoob's run-in with the German officer on was the most dramatic moment of the day.

Amidst the freezing darkness of the night, we huddle together in a small foxhole, seeking whatever comfort and warmth we can find. The sounds of distant gunfire and explosions serve as a constant reminder of the perilous reality we face. Exhausted and weary from the relentless battles, we are startled by the sudden sound of a gunshot, piercing through the quiet night.

"What the fuck was that?" I exclaim, my heart racing as I instinctively reach for my rifle. Beside me, Don looks equally alarmed, his eyes wide with concern.

As the echoes of the shot fade, the urgent voices of our fellow soldiers guide us toward the source. "Jesus, it's Hoobs, he's shot!" someone calls out, and without hesitation, we rush to Hoob's side.

"What? Sniper?" I inquire, fearing the worst.

"No, he shot himself," comes the disheartening response.

As Lip joins us, his face reflects the gravity of the situation. "What happened?" he asks, seeking to understand the circumstances.

"It just went off," Hoobs explains, his voice filled with pain and regret. Kneeling down beside him, I take his hand, trying to offer some comfort amidst the chaos.

"Why is there a loaded gun in your pants?" I inquire, struggling to comprehend what led to this tragic event.

"Liv, I wasn't touching it or nothing. Goddamn it," Hoob desperately responds, his eyes pleading for understanding. "I wasn't touching it, I swear."

Sighing with a mix of frustration and concern, I call out for the medic, knowing that Hoobs needs immediate attention.

"Medic!"

Doc quickly arrives at the scene, his experienced hands taking charge. "Hold on. Wrap him up. Hang in there. Come on," Doc reassures Hoob, doing his best to stabilize the wounded soldier.

"Lip. You said I was a great shot, right?" Hoob asks, his voice tinged with vulnerability.

"You're a great shot. Come on, you jump out of planes. You're tough," Lipton responds, trying to encourage him.

As we gather around, trying to keep Hoob warm, we continue to talk to him, hoping to distract him from the pain and fear.

"He's still shivering," I note, my heart breaking for our wounded comrade.

"It's not that bad at all, come on," Perconte tries to reassure Hoob, but the situation remains dire.

"Stay with us. Hoob, take it easy," Doc urges, his dedication unwavering despite the grim circumstances.

"What are we gonna do?" Don asks, his voice heavy with helplessness.

"How are we doing?" Lip inquires, seeking an update from Doc.

"You're gonna be fine," I assure Hoob, holding his hand tightly.

"We've gotta get him to an aid station. Hold on tight. All right, let's get ready to move him. Take it easy. Stay there, Hoob," Doc commands, already preparing for the difficult task ahead.

As we work together to get Hoob ready for transport, I call out to Doc, my voice filled with concern and desperation. "Doc!"

But before Doc can respond, I realize the truth, and my heart sinks.

"Can't see anything", Doc says still occupied with Hoobs leg.

"Doc!" I point to Hoob, who is already gone, and the weight of the moment settles heavily on us all.

"Jesus," Doc murmurs, shaken by the loss.

"Lipton, we need a jeep," Perconte says, his voice heavy with grief.

As we reflect on the tragedy that has unfolded before us, we come to the sad realization that Hoob's life has been cut short by an unfortunate accident. Despite our frantic efforts, his injuries proved too severe, leaving us with a void that cannot be filled.

As we return to our foxholes, the weight of his loss hangs heavy on our hearts, and the darkness of the night is now intensified by the shadow of a fallen comrade. We mourn the loss of a fellow soldier, knowing that his memory will forever be etched in our hearts as we continue to face the relentless turmoil of war.

The following day, we're pulled back a little to grab a much-needed meal after that horrific night. Word spread out fast, that we lost our friend Donals Hoobler that night.

Seated on the ground next to Joe, I massage my temples, trying to soothe the incredible headaches that have haunted me since I was hit. I close my eyes, attempting to find some relief from the pain. The pills Doc Roe gave me are helpful, but there's just not enough to fully ease the agony.

In the midst of my discomfort, I hear Muck's voice raise, and I open my eyes to see him approaching. "Fellas, look who I found. Joe Toye, back for more," he announces, with Joe Toye standing next to him. Joe looks a bit worse for wear, but knowing him, he's determined to soldier on.

Joe nudges me, and when I look at him, he winks quickly, as if to reassure me. However, my attention is soon drawn back to Muck, who's joined by Don, Penkala, and a replacement named Webb. They're sharing stories of how people got hit, trying to lighten the mood.

"Don't worry, there's enough crap flying around here. You're bound to get dinged sometime. Almost every single one of these guys has been hit at least once. Except for Alley, he's a two-timer. He landed on broken glass in Normandy... and got peppered by a potato masher in Holland," Muck says as he walks through the ranks.

I follow his gaze and chuckle, appreciating how he's trying to downplay the danger we face. The camaraderie and banter among the soldiers provide a semblance of comfort in this harsh reality.

"Now, Bull, he got a piece of an exploding tank in Holland," Muck points out, and Bull doesn't seem too thrilled about the reminder. "And George Luz here has never been hit. You're one lucky bastard."

"Takes one to know one, Skip," George playfully retorts, drawing laughter from me as I rub my eyes, still struggling with the headache.

"Consider us blessed," Muck shrugs, before making his way over to us. "Now, our dear Sergeant Stark over there, that blonde beauty you see, got a nice graze in Nuenen - 26 stitches, right Liv?" he remarks, and I lift my head, feeling slightly annoyed.

"29, actually," I correct him.

"Oh, whatever. And as you can see, she got a little Christmas gift from the Germans on her face as well. An improvement, if you ask me."

"Bite me, Skip," I respond, playfully giving him the finger, which only elicits a chuckle from him.

"Eh, come on, Sweetheart. But don't try something with her, or you don't need to worry about ding flying around. Liebgott, the skinny little guy next to her... will take care of you then, if you know what I mean," Muck teases, drawing Joe's attention as well.

"Ah, shut up, Skip!" I interject, feeling the teasing becoming a bit too much. I stand up and walk over to Don, who's smirking.

I offer him the rest of my bread and nudge him affectionately. "Just telling the truth here, Liv," Muck defends himself. "Well, he got pinged in the neck in Holland. Right next to him, that other skinny little guy, that's Popeye. He got shot in his scrawny little butt in Normandy."

"And Buck got shot in his rather large butt in Holland," Don chimes in with a smirk.

As they continue their banter, I step away, seeking a moment of solitude to collect myself. The headache persists, and I take a sip from my water bottle, wondering how I'll endure this hellish war when it feels like my head could explode at any minute.

[stardancerluv]

A Time to Love and to Fight

Part Twenty - Three

Summary: The past comes to visit Enjolras while on the vastness of the ocean.

Notes/Warnings: Mentions of Courfeyrac being questioned about Enjolras. Dated view of women..life…marriage. Mentioning of a duel. Angst in relation to what happened to Enjolras with the Royal army.

Thank you for reading! ❤️s & reblogs are always welcome. Feedback is also very…very welcome!

“Enjolras, take your angel and get out here.”

He nodded. “Go to my solicitor. He will surely help you, Grantaire if he is with us.”

“Fine, now go! Run!”

Courfeyrac met his comrade’s, his friend’s eyes one last time. Then he watched as he ran off holding his angel’s hand.

His arm trembled as he lowered it. Nights prior, they had sworn to the death. Their hands clasped in the promise. Even then he had not wanted it to get to that.

He deserved a life and so did Enjolras. Especially since the sweetest angel had entered his life. His friend deserved to have the life people dreamed of.

The only strings he had connected him to Govroche which was severed no more then an hour ago, the one with Grantaire shook. Last he saw him, he was slumped over drunk in a corner. Willing he released the one with Enjolras. He wanted his friend to be happy.

Behind him the wood burst as what remained of the doors flew open, cold fear ran down his back. Royal soldiers poured out. One that appeared taller turned and his sharp eye landed on him.

********

Stars erupted in front of his eyes as another blow landed. “Tell me where he is?”

“Who?” He would not betray his friend.

More blows landed.

Behind them he heard a shuffling sound. Blinking he saw a staggering Grantaire.

“Enjolras, where are you?” He rubbed an eye.

In his hazy sight, from under a swollen eye he watched as the tall solider turned to him.

The man grabbed Grantaire by the collar. “This Enjolras where is he?”

*******

A stewart helped Enjolras carry the trunk to the small cabin the two of you were going to share. You followed close behind and only kept your eyes on them.

The trunk took up most of the room.

“Your solicitor made arrangements that you and your wife,” Pausing, he glanced at you. You replied with a polite nod. “There is another gentleman traveling in a manner similar to the two of you. The two of you, and the man shall dine with members of the crew, if you wish it.”

Enjolras brushed his hands against his trousers once they placed the trunk on the floor. “We will consider it.”

“The food with us will be more to your liking, and what you are accustomed to.”

Enjolras, pressed his lips together and nodded. Reaching into his pocket, you caught the twinkle of a coin.

The man gestured dismissively with a hand. “Thank you, but all has been arranged.” He held the brim of his hat and nodded. “I shall leave you both, as I have to aid with the prep of departure. Monsieur, Madame.”

You could barely give him a polite nod. Your heart thudded heavily. Desperately, you tried to ground yourself, you fidgeted with your gloves behind your back.

The door creaked and the clang as he closed it behind him, it made you wince.

“Ange?” Enjolras’s voice sounded far away. You were certain you felt his solid warmth.

*******

A part of him was bemused. The first night he visited you, a fainting spell fell over you. Here you both were about to embark on a journey that would carry the two of you to a new life, a new world and here you were as delicate as a flower in his arms. And yet, you were strong, standing firm as he fought the royals but now you wilt. Something, about it made him smile.

He traced the curve of your cheek with his scarf. He was grateful they had left some cool water in the room. He taken it upon himself to moistened his scarf. As he continued to graze your features relief filled him as he saw a gentle stirring within you.

“Enjolas?” Your lashes danced against your cheeks as you came around. The flush in your cheeks was finally beginning to fade.

“Yes, mon amour?” Your eyes met his, he smiled.

“I fainted?”

“Yes, and once again I caught you.” He added softly. “Something I shall never tire of.”

******

You had removed the pins from your hair, they were in a neat pile on the table beside the bed. Nestling close to Enjolras, you rested your head on his chest. Glancing down, you eyed both yours and Enjolras’s boots as they sat on the floor at the end of the bed. Despite, being assured by the captain that the waters wouldn’t be terribly choppy, the two of you had tucked them into a tight niche. You hoped that the captain was right and the choppy seas would be later on in the trip.

Tilting your head so, you caught Enjolras eye. He grimaced.

“Shall, I refer to as Julien while we dine on this ship? Or as …”

Your words got lost in your throat. You had never imagined anything like this ever happening.

He smiled then.

“You may only refer to me as your amazing husband.” He paused and his lips curled into a quick smile. He cleared his throat. “In all seriousness, perhaps Julien. No one except my family knows me by that name.”

You nodded. “Julien.” You tested it again on your lips.

A smirk curled his lips. “I never thought I’d enjoy hearing my given name on anyone’s lips.”

You gave him a shy smile.

*******

In small mirror, you managed to set your hair once again. Turning your head, you eyed yourself. You gave Enjolras a smile as your eyes met his.

You turned and looker up at him. “Is it ok, that I’m nervous?”

He nodded. “Yes, love. But remember you charmed my heart and all those that met you. And you will once again.”

You nodded.

******

You practically hopped into Enjolras, grasping his arm while walking down the corridor. A sizable rat squeaked as it scuttled past the two of you.

“Don’t like rats ?”

You nodded, glancing behind the two of you. “They would constantly invade the cellar and ruin things.”

“I don’t like them either. I was grateful where I lived they never climbed so high. Though, Courfeyrac complained bitterly about them.”

******

As much as he wished to eat with the crew, etiquette dictated that a man of his standing would eat with the captain. To be fair, he had befriended General Lamarque and that had not gone so bad. Perhaps, the captain would share stories of being the ship.

Despite starting a new life he would not let it change who he was. Life would certainly be easier in some ways but he would remain aware of the world around him and you. Inwardly, he sighed. He had truly been given a second chance, a chance with you. He would make this work.

*******

“There I was standing on the foremast. The waves were as big as hills in the country side.”

The captian paused, and cackled. He brought one of his ruddy hands to his chest.

“Madame, excuse my enthusiasm. It has been a long time since I’ve shared my stories or been in front of a lady.”

“Oh.” You gave the captain a smile. “You are quiet alright, Monsieur.” You took a sip from tankard.

“You are kind. Julien, you have a good wife. It has been too long since we have had such a sweet presence on board.”

You could see how the remark pleased him.

“I will agree with you. Lucky a man is to have such a good wife.”

You flushed at his kind words.

*****

With your arm looped with Enjolras’s, you walked back to your quarters.

“I believe that went well.” You said happily.

He patted your arm. “I agree.”

“Monsieur Julien?”

Your heart stilled, a nervousness blossomed in your stomach. As you both turned to the voice.

Enjolras rose his eyebrows, as a questioning look washed over his face. “Monsieur Fournier ?”

“Yes, may I ask for a moment of air with you?” He quickly looked between the two of you.

Enjolras, pressed his lips together, then nodded. He glanced down at you. “I’ll see you back at our cabin.”

You nodded.

*******

The floorboards creaked and groaned as the boat cut through the water. The air, was not dank here on the deck. Glancing upward, he squinted as he took in the sight of the white sails flapping in the wind of the setting son. He marveled for a moment that a man could know the winds and where to follow them. Despite how brash the captain was, he was a smart man.

All that surrounded them was the water. He swallowed down the unease it planted in him. He didn’t like that there was no where to escape to. He felt as confined as he did in that alleyway where he had clanged swords with that solider.

He had thought surely he was close to breathing his last but Courfeyrac had appeared and shot that man down. He truly hoped his friend, his comrade was still among the living.

“Over dinner, it struck me you are Marquis Alarie’s son, are you not?”

Enjolras, stilled and he turned to the man. He had not wanted to go above deck with him but surely avoiding an invitation such as that would be suspicious. He, both of you had to be careful.

“It is I, Bellamy.” A huge smile appeared. It fought against the vivid scar that was across the man’s face. “We used to get into the muck quite a bit when our mothers allowed it.”

He narrowed his eyes as looked the young man over. Then his eyes grew.

“Bellamy! My old friend what are you doing here? And your face? What happened?” What had happened in his adult years. He had always been too boastful; he could only guess that it caught up with him.

His friend smirked before shrugging it off. “A duel with a Royal Solider.”

Enjolras’s brow furrowed. “What?”

“I had been flirting with this girl. Apparently, she split her time between me and the solider.”

Enjolras ndded.

“So, I made her choose. I am no fool.”

“You never were.” He agreed.

“So at one dawn; a few weeks ago was our duel.” He chuckled. “It was fantastically dramatic. Something that would appear in books. I even managed to wing him through the pain and blood that fell into my eyes after the blow he landed. Its by miracle my physician saved me.”

Enjolras just shook his head. “Your handsome face is gone.”

He smirked. “I have character now.” He took a step closer to him, his chest puffed out. “And he’s stuck with a girl with a so so family. Not that it matters now.” He sighed. “Father, figured I had better go to London in case the solider gets drunk and wants to finish what he started.”

“They can be pretty ruthless.”

He nodded. “He had wanted to deal a death blow. What little feelings she had lingering for me caused her to pull him away.”

Enjolras made a face. “She was there?”

“She insisted.”

“Ah, that kind.” He pressed his lips together.

“Yeah.” His friend gestured to his hand. “What happened there?”

“Solider.”

“Ah. Good thing, he didn’t take the hand.”

“Yes, luck lingers around us apparently.”

“Well, I better let you get back to your little cabbage. She seems sweet and delicate.” He paused. “May I be bold, old friend?”

Enjolras nodded. “With our past? Of course you can be.”

“I had always thought you’d marry someone more feisty.”

Inwardly, he smiled. You were strong, but he wasn’t about to divulge that. “She is my sweet girl.”

“Good. I am happy for you.”

*****

Enjolras, locked and leaned against the door. You immediately stopped pacing and came over to him. “Are you alright? Should I, should we be worried?”

Enjolras cupped your cheek, his thumb gently caressed your cheek. A smirk curled his cheeks.

Confusion blossomed in you. “Julien?”

“Nothing happened, mon amour.” He smiled. “He is friend when I was nothing more then a boy. He is not aware of what came of me after our childhood years.”

“The two of you used to be friends?” You brought a hand to your mouth.

“We were.” Enjolras chuckled. “He’s here because of a duel. He will only help our cover all the more.”

“Happy to hear it. I had been worried.”

“Soon, once we are on firm ground we will no longer have to worry.”

*******

Leaning just so, Enjolras snuffed the candle’s flame, once he laid back he pulled you close.

Greeting his past just now made he wonder. If he would have been that insufferable. Inwardly, he shook his head grateful his life led to this moment.

“Enjolras?”

“Are you sure everything is ok?”

“Yes.”

@aftertheglitterfades @corrodedcoffn @dealswiththedevilsblog @randomstory56 @pl1nfa1 @phantomxoxo @ladybug0095 @the-iridescent-phoenix @maryan028 @kindablackenedsuperhero @amethyst-serenade @crazyworldofsiani @moondev1l @samunson83 @julieteagk @little-wormwood @wafflepixie @shadyhamiltonfanatic @gretavankleep37 @peacefroggg23

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Undercover Hero- Part 23

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18, Part 19, Part 20, Part 21, Part 22

The ride back to the base was long and silent… at first. Then came the tears.

“It’s okay,” Other Hero soothed, holding Hero’s crying form, “you thought they had changed, you didn’t know any better.”

“B-but I sh-should’ve!” Hero sobbed, “they killed someone because of me! I thought I could get through to them, but they’re no different than they were when they first took me!”

“You can’t fix everything, Hero,” Vigilante said from the driver’s seat, “especially not people.”

…

That night, Hero tossed and turned in bed. No matter what they tried, they couldn’t get to sleep. Hero bolted upright in bed when they heard their window open. A dark figure was perched on the window ledge. Hero went to shoot a beam of ice at them, but the figure was faster. A ball of energy shot right into Hero. Hero tried to call for help, but their mouth wouldn’t open. They tried to move something, anything, but their body wouldn’t cooperate. Hero’s eyes widened as the figure strode closer. Supervillain.

“Shh,” Supervillain soothed, “it’s alright. It’s all going to be alright.”

A tear slid down Hero’s cheek.

“I know you’re scared,” Supervillain said, “but don’t worry. I’ll make it painless for them; I promise.”

Make what painless!? What was Supervillain going to do?

“Right now, you’re in a state of paralysis,” Supervillain explained, “Once I’m finished, I’ll free you.”

Hero wanted to cry, wanted to scream, but the most they could get out was a quiet whine. Supervillain smiled sadly.

“This is for the best; you’ll understand one day.”

Supervillain turned to leave. The room erupted in light as a bolt of electricity surged through the air and into Supervillain’s chest. Supervillain stumbled back, crying out in pain. Other Hero stood in the doorway of the bedroom, their fingers sparking with residual electricity.

“I thought you might try something,” they growled.

Hero, now free from the paralysis, shot up in bed and fired an ice beam at Supervillain. Supervillain lurched forward. Regaining their balance, Supervillain shot two bolts of energy at Hero and Other Hero. Hero managed to dodge, but Other Hero wasn’t so quick. They fell to the floor, completely immobile. Supervillain ran toward them, a ball of energy in hand.

“No!” Hero shouted.

Hero launched themselves at Supervillain, forming two very sharp icicles in their hands. They were just about to jam them into Supervillain’s back when they rounded on them, grabbing their wrists.

“Don’t make this any harder than it has to be, darling,” Supervillain warned, “I’m going to kill your friends, and then I’m going to take you far away from here. Accept that now, or- gah!”

Vigilante pulled Supervillain away from Hero, releasing them from their grip.

“You sure make a lot of noise for an assassin,” Vigilante growled.

Supervillain pulled out a knife from within their sleeve and jammed it behind them into Vigilante’s side, then quickly yanked it out. Vigilante cried out, releasing their opponent and clutching their fresh wound.

Supervillain rounded on Vigilante, pressing them against the wall and holding the knife to their throat.

“Stop it!”

Supervillain sighed, turning to look at Hero.

“Please, stop! Don’t hurt them! I’ll go with you, wherever you wanna go, but don’t hurt them!”

“Hero,” Supervillain said calmly, “I know you. I know you care far more for them than you do for me. I can’t just let them live.”

“So… as long as I’m around, you’ll just destroy the ones I love?”

“Hero-”

Hero held a ball of cryo-energy in their hand and jammed it against their chest.

“No!”

Supervillain ran to Hero as they crumpled to the ground. Frost quickly spread across their entire body. Their eyes stared up at nothing as their temperature dropped below its freezing point.

“No no no no no,” Supervillain muttered, kneeling by their body.

Vigilante staggered over to Other Hero, releasing them from their paralysis. Other Hero bolted upright. They both ran to Hero’s side.

“Hero!” Other Hero shouted, reaching their hand out.

“Don’t touch them!” Supervillain snarled, smacking Other Hero’s hand away.

Tears flickered in Supervillain’s eyes. They cupped the side of Hero’s face. They were colder than they had ever been before.

“Why…” Supervillain said quietly, “you’re as foolish as that first day you infiltrated my organization.”

“Am I?”

Supervillain blinked.

“Hero!?”

Hero’s hand shot up and pressed against Supervillain’s torso. Ice quickly encased them.

“Hero, no, don’t do this,” Supervillain said, their breath coming out in little white clouds.

“I have to,” Hero said.

Supervillain stared at Hero as long as they could, before their eyes fluttered shut and they collapsed on the ground, their body completely frozen.

“Hero!” Other Hero shouted, hugging them tight, then quickly letting go, “gah! You’re freezing!”

“Kid, you scared us half to death!” Vigilante scolded.

“I’m sorry,” Hero said sheepishly, “I couldn’t just stop and explain what I was gonna do…”

“Erm, what exactly did you do?” Other Hero asked, gesturing to Supervillain’s frozen form.

“They’re not dead!” Hero clarified quickly, “they’re just frozen. They’ll be in a comatose state until they thaw.”

Vigilante sighed, then lurched forward and hugged Hero tight, not caring about the cold emanating from them.

“That was the riskiest thing you could’ve done,” Vigilante said, “dang it, Hero, am I ever gonna stop worrying about you?”

…

Superhero’s league had been called to take Supervillain away. Hero, Other Hero, and Vigilante had been assured that they would be kept in their frozen state until it was decided what course of action would be taken.

Vigilante clapped Hero on the shoulder.

“You did good, Hero,” they said.

…

Epilogue

Other Hero came by with another blanket and draped it over Hero’s shoulders. Hero adjusted it so that it was wrapped around them tightly on top of the three other blankets that covered them.

“A-a-are y-y-you c-c-coming t-to watch the m-movie?” Hero asked, teeth chattering.

“Sure am,” Other Hero said, plopping down on the couch next to them.

The scent of popcorn wafted through the air as Vigilante entered with a huge bowl of the stuff. They sat down on Hero’s other side.

“How’re the blankets treating you, Hero?” Vigilante asked.

Hero gave a shivery thumbs-up.

“I don’t like those shivers,” Vigilante said, “we’ll have to take drastic measures.”

“D-d-drastic m-m-measures?”

Other Hero and Vigilante shared a look and nodded at each other. They snuggled in close on either side of Hero, wrapping their arms around them.

“I d-d-didn’t know y-y-you were the s-s-snuggling type, V-V-Vigilante,” Hero said.

“Don’t get used to it, just watch the show,” Vigilante said.

Vigilante pressed the play button the remote. Hero sighed in relief as they started to warm up, surrounded by their friends.

…

Hero snuggled closer to Supervillain on the couch, their favorite movie playing.

“I love you, Supervillain,” Hero said.

“I love you too, my darling Hero.”

Deep in the league’s containment level, Supervillain slept in a frozen state, the only sign that they were alive was the constant stream of brain scans that showed signs of dreaming.

 -The End-

---------

ko-fi

tags:  @mythixmagic @infinityshadows @fishtale88 @thelazywitchphotographer @the-beasts-have-arrived @princessofonwardsworld @surplus-of-sarcasm