Multi Fandom One Shots And Short Stories

(PATTON SANDERS) Not All Heroes Wear Capes REWRITE

Alrighty, guys! Here's the first part of the rewrite flood!!  I wrote the original so long ago, it's almost painful to look back at it! But we made it. We're here now and the bad writing can't hurt me anymore.

Just like the OG, this one-shot is about bullying, so be forewarned. Other TW's include the use of slurs against the Trans community, going nonverbal, binding unsafely, and using Christianity to justify hate speech. 

With all those in mind, here we go! 

Word count: 2552

People are awful sometimes. It's a fact of life at this point, and it becomes even more apparent when you work in the fiery fresh hell that people call the food service industry.

You were quickly approaching hour 9 on your feet. You were so unbelievably sore, you ached in places you'd never hurt before, and you were 110% ready to go home, take off your binder, and slip into an exhaustion-induced coma. Binders are a blessing sent from the gods, but 9 hours? Your rib cage (along with every other part of your body) was practically screaming at you to just give up the ghost.

Your body trying to tear itself apart at the seams was horrible enough... You hadn't even touched on the people you worked with yet.

"Hey, Y/N!" A honey-smooth voice called out to you. You heard it quite clearly over the hurried bustle of the coffee shop, but all you wanted to do was ignore it. You didn't want anything to do with her right now.

Nevertheless, you always tried your best to be polite and you didn't think you would be able to keep your job if you threw a boiling coffee pot at a co-worker's head. Even if you really wanted to... And even if she really deserved it.

You closed your eyes and tried to take a deep breath, quickly abording that motion as your ribs flared up once again. You turned to face Mikayla.

"What do you want?" The exhaustion you were feeling was slipping into your voice and you were finding it hard to care all that much.

Mikayla was beautiful. You knew Patton would probably say something cheesy like "beauty is on the inside." But you knew what societal beauty standards were and you had to admit that Mikayla was the perfect poster girl.

She had light, olive-colored skin and caramel brown hair that fell over her shoulders and down her back in perfectly coifed waves. She had intense amber eyes that seemed to shine with some kind of internal fire. Her nails were always impeccably manicured and the tight mandated uniform of Sunray Coffee perfectly hugged her figure, accentuating the alluring curves of her body. Even after hours of work, she somehow still looked stunning.

You were jealous of her. Not because of her beauty, (because Patton was correct: Beauty is only skin deep) but because of the confidence she exuded by just existing in her own skin.

Mikayla's colorful acrylics tapped against the counter she was wiping down. She wasn't far from where you were leaning against the table top, but the toxicity in her faux smile was enough to make you wish there was another hundred miles between you.

Her amber eyes scanned you up and down a few times before she smirked. "You don't look all that hot, Y/N," she quipped. "Are you sick?" Her words were kind on the surface, but her tone bespoke dozens of layers of cruelty and judgment.

"I'm fine," you gritted out, resisting the urge to wrap an arm around your throbbing torso.

"Hmm," she hummed, pursing her full lips together in false concern, "Maybe if you accepted your biological gender, you'd be a better functioning member of society?" She leaned a little closer to you, purposefully angling her body to block the view of the security cameras. "Just a thought, trannie," she hissed.