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thetriggeredhappy · 3 years ago

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recently rediscovered your blog and read the fic from your dad spy au where scout starts out as the "guard" and then becomes scout from there and lemme tell you that shit put me on some s-tier brainrot. like a cranial decay type beat.

i had a concept in my head that instead of being hired as a guard, he could have been hired as a right hand man to the administrator like pauling, because i think hed be awesome in that position. like imagine having a personal merc who can get in fast and out even faster. but maybe he would stay in the base like the rest of them, sort of like a secret on call intel gatherer, who also maybe sometimes has to dig a couple graves. and also like, nobody on the team expects anything from him at first because its this 20 year old newbie kid. hes dressed in his formal clothes and he talks like somebody from relatively around boston but not quite. i can just imagine one day he comes back during a team dinner with his shirt half untucked and stained with blood, hair disheveled as he asks soldier if he can borrow his shovel, or him debriefing them for a mission when miss pauling is busy. same vibe as the fic i mentioned before but scout gets to have a job as cool as miss paulings. honestly id write it myself if i didnt have the attention span of a fly

anyways your scout content gives me life thank you

scout teamfortress but 20% more competent standing next to miss pauling teamfortress while she's doing her job and doing like silly quips and otherwise contributing nothing like it's a buddy cop film is literally my fucking ideal

(warnings for some canon-typical violence)

“Oh, Pauling, it’s good to see you again,” greeted the chairman, smiling in an imitation of a grandfather and clasping her hands perhaps too-kindly considering she barely knew him. “Young as ever, and still so stylish, I see. And who’s the new fellow?”

“He’s just here to help with transport, Mr. Montgomery, nothing unusual,” Miss Pauling replied, returning his smile and adjusting her glasses. “Heavy cases, you know how it is.”

“Of course, I remember you almost toppling clean over last time we made a trade!” Montgomery agreed, frowning at the memory. “You’ll pull a muscle that way, better to be careful. It’s a pleasure to meet you, young man. And your name?”

“Mr. Normandy, sir,” the new kid replied easily enough despite his slight East Coast accent, giving the man a firm handshake, expression neutral and stony, the picture of professionalism. Internally, Pauling breathed a sigh of relief.

“Firm grip there, young man,” Montgomery praised, nodding approvingly. “Tennis player, perhaps? Or golf?”

“Baseball, sir,” he replied, still evenly. “First baseman.”

“Ah! Of course! Were you any good?” Montgomery joked.

“At everything but playing in front of the crowds, otherwise I’d be in the major leagues,” he replied, tilting his head just slightly to imply that he was joking, his sunglasses glinting at the movement, and Montgomery barked a laugh.

“I like this one, Miss Pauling!” Montgomery said, and Pauling just barely caught herself from physically relaxing at it.

“We do too, Mr. Montgomery,” she agreed. “I was under the impression that you’re very busy today, so we won’t keep you for too long, we just wanted to sort out the final details surrounding the manufacturing rights for the—“

“—Pacific Northwest branch, up into British Columbia and Alberta, of course,” Montgomery agreed, nodding faintly. “Of course, of course.” He turned to regard his own man in a dark suit, the one standing to the right, who appeared to be unsuccessfully trying to stare down Normandy, who was completely ignoring him. “My briefcase, please.”

The man handed over the briefcase, and Montgomery put it on his desk, opening it and pulling out a sheaf of papers. “All our requests are submitted and approved, at this point we just had a few dustbins to take care of regarding initial percentages and making sure everything is wired to the correct accounts, which names are undisclosed, things like that,” Pauling explained as he glanced through the papers.

“Right, right, everything looks good here,” the man murmured, nodding to himself, sending his long-white hair just ever-so-slightly out of place. “I’m assuming these more sensitive documents should be sent some way besides through the mail?”

“If you finish them today I can take them with me, otherwise either me or Mr. Normandy can return to pick them up at your convenience,” she replied, to which Normandy gave a singular nod.

“Oh, it would only take me a short while,” Montgomery said, waving a hand. “We have a lovely lounge just down the hall from here if you’d prefer to wait there, it should only take me ten, fifteen minutes at most. In the meantime, I do believe there’s also the manner of payment for services rendered.”

Miss Pauling tilted her head just slightly to one side, confused.

“I arranged with Helen already,” Montgomery explained, not looking up from where he was initialing a few things. “The payment, rather than being wired, she asked to be made in material investment. A venture of mine from years ago that she’s willing to sit on. Rather than gold or bonds, she agreed to take some old currency of mine that my family collected, from early 18th century New Zealand and Australia. Monetarily it’s worth around the same, and I’m quite a bit attached to it to be entirely frank, but it was at her request to buy the whole collection from me, and after years of the work we’ve been doing together, well, I’d never trust it with anyone else.”

He gestured to the other man, the one on his left, who stepped forward to hand him a manila envelope, which he passed to Pauling.

“Inside is both keys, the door alarm codes, and all other security information for the building where the collection is being stored. They’ll ask for a few codes and confirmation of identity, only because several other art collections and artifacts are being stored there by other affluent individuals such as myself.”

“Thank you, Mr. Montgomery,” Pauling said, taking the envelope gratefully.

“Think nothing of it, my dear. Helen talked me into it all her own,” he said easily enough. “Now, gentlemen, if you would let Miss Pauling and Mr. Normandy into our lounge? I should have these wrapped up before any of us can even think about lunch, eh?”

One of the suits showed the two of them through the doors and down the hallway, through two doors bracketed by similar suits who simply nodded politely at Pauling and ticked their chins at Normandy as they passed them.

Normandy posted up beside the door for all of three seconds before they shut and Pauling pulled her glasses up, rubbing at the bridge of her nose and making a vaguely distressed noise. He then promptly relaxed, instead leaning his hip against an armchair probably worth the same amount as a small car. “So, uh, we’re glad that he’s giving us a bunch of commemorative coins from when dinosaurs still walked the earth?” he asked just below normal speaking volume, eyebrows raised.

“Yes. Very glad. Because unlike about six people total on the planet, he hasn’t figured out yet how valuable those are.”

“What, is a picture of a kangaroo on some copper really gonna make up for a couple hundred thousand American dollars?” Normandy asked, sounding doubtful.

“Not copper. Something else,” she replied. “I can’t tell you much more about it other than that, but these coins are made of something priceless to us. And to the Administrator.”

“…Love? Memories? The magic of family?” he joked, cracking a smile, and she rolled her eyes, moving to open the envelope and start reading the papers inside. “Hey, uh, not to question whether my job should exist, but what the hell am I doing here, exactly? Besides carrying a briefcase. Like, chivalry isn’t dead but I really don’t think you need me carrying your bags and holding the door for you.”

“You’re helping with security, basically,” she replied, adjusting her glasses to squint at tiny handwriting about the collection. “Mr. Montgomery is trustworthy, but he mostly hires out to… well, people like us. His security detail is mostly people we’d rather have screened, freelancers, stuff like that. A lot of people we contract out to are like that. Most of them have heard about me and know better than to try and pull something, since I can hold my own pretty well, but if they haven’t, seeing a second person might persuade them to think it over again.”

“Oh, so I’m like, uh, when it says ‘tow zone’ next to the no parking signs even though nobody checks, or when they’ve got a camera in the corner of the store that isn’t even plugged into anything,” he said, and the looked up at him, confused. “Like, uh, what’s the word… I’m a casual deterrent.”

“Sure,” she said, because it sounded like he knew what he was talking about, shuffling the papers back away and closing the envelope again, making a note to ask the Administrator if she should change their current containment procedures to be closer to Mr. Montgomery’s. “Just… if there’s a fight, you deal with it, otherwise you just stand there and look like you’re paying attention.”

“That’s what the sunglasses are for,” he agreed. “I was blinking morse code at the guy across from me literally the whole time.”

“You know morse code?” Pauling asked, surprised.

“Just the alphabet, ‘S.O.S.’, and ‘ass’.”

She rolled her eyes again, and that’s when the door opened.

She expected Mr. Montgomery, not one of the men in suits. “Excuse me, both of you, if you don’t mind,”the man said, accent having the slightest English tilt to it, a Londoner if Pauling had to guess. “You’re Miss Pauling, the Mann Co. affiliate, yes?”

“That’s me,” she agreed, hesitant, and glanced at Normandy.

“I’m afraid there’s been a mistake. Mr. Montgomery have you the wrong envelope on accident,” the man said apologetically, extending a hand forward. “We apologize for this unfortunate mix-up, it’s really quite embarrassing, but those documents are sensitive and we’ll be needing to see them back now.”

Pauling looked at him, and within a moment, shifted her expression. “Oh, I’m so sorry!” she agreed, nodding. “No, right, of course. These aren’t the papers for the currency collection?”

“I’m afraid not,” the Brit agreed, head tilting just slightly, hand still extended, moving a fraction further forward.

“Well, thank goodness we figured out now and not with us halfway back,” she joked, and moved to hold the folder closer to her body. “I’ll take this right back to Mr. Montgomery, then.”

“He’s sent me to correct the error,” the man explained simply.

“Right,” she said, and saw in her periphery that Normandy had already started sneaking a hand in towards his primary, clearly having pieced together something she was only suspecting. “We can bring this to his office, then, right down the hall.”

“You misunderstand,” the man said, taking a step forward again. “I’ll be taking it to his office myself.”

“That’s funny,” Pauling said. “I didn’t realize you had clearance to be in there. Or to be carrying a semi-automatic instead of a standard handgun.”

The Brit reached for the semi-automatic, and before he could even get it out properly, Normandy hit one clean shot to the side of his head and another to his thigh, sending him crumpling to the ground.

Pauling had only as far as pulling her own handgun free, thumb on the safety, and breathed a sigh of relief, glancing over at Normandy, shifting to more comfortably hold her gun. “Quick reflexes,” she noted.

“Just noticed a lot sooner, maybe,” he shrugged, stepping forward to glance over the body, tucking his gun back away.

“What was your hint?”

“He’s here to give us the right folder, yeah? Well, why were his hands empty, then?”

She was just starting to nod and realize that as well when a second man shouldered through the door, holding a gun at the ready. Normandy scrambled to draw his own, but Pauling fired a shot into his knee, shoulder, and neck to send him dropping before he was even close. “There’s quick on the draw, and then there’s prepared,” she said pointedly. “Gotta think of if there’s more than one, new guy.”

He nodded, and drew his gun again, bending to hit the guy on the ground at the temple hard enough to knock him out if he wasn’t unconscious already. He then glanced up at the sound of a shout from the other side of the door, two men shouldering through, guns drawn but lowered. It was only the firm eye contact they made with both her and Normandy that made her pause the millisecond it took to realize these ones weren’t trying to kill them.

“Pauling, what on earth is going on here?!” Montgomery demanded, entering the room and staring with wide eyes at the bodies on the ground. “What could’ve possessed you to—“

“He was trying to run off with these documents,” she explained quickly, gesturing with the envelope. “He knew whatever was in here was valuable.”

“He drew his gun, sir,” Normandy added, tipping his head down towards the body, and Pauling glanced down as well and found herself a little surprised. He’d rearranged the man just slightly, apparently, adjusting the arm to be holding the gun a bit further outward. “Other one was aiming to kill.”

“My, my,” Montgomery tsk’d, shaking his head as he surveyed the scene. “What a mess. My apologies, Miss Pauling, Mr. Normandy.”

“It’s alright, but you need to start doing more thorough checks on your staff, Mr. Montgomery,” Pauling stressed.

“He’s only been here two weeks, sir, he was one of the men we hired in a hurry after the incident last month,” one of the bodyguards said, and Montgomery shook his head.

“Thank goodness nobody was hurt,” he sighed. “Mutiny, and besides that, they’re bleeding on my carpet. Here are those papers, Miss Pauling—what a day, eh?”

“It’s really alright, we handled it,” Pauling assured him, giving her bravest smile, a little exasperated now.

“Right, right, you and the first baseman,” he agreed, and Normandy fought back an actual smile.

“If you’d like, we can take care of those for you,” Pauling said, gesturing at the bodies. “To pay you back for the carpet and the scare.”

“Sounds fair to me,” Montgomery agreed, clearly relieved.

“My dad’s gonna be pissed, by the way,” Normandy was so helpful as to say on the way back up the path to the base. “And you’re fielding that.”

“About the suit, or the fight?” she asked, glancing at his clothes where he was somewhat covered in a fine dusting of mud and grime from the gravedigging, shovel still in his free hand.

“Both. Mostly the fight. Your fault for saying it’d be an easy one to start with,” he said.

“If it was going to be that much of a problem, you wouldn’t have gotten this job. I’d just have made you go do dishes all day or something,” Pauling replied.

“Point taken,” he said, walking ahead to get the door, holding it open for her. “Wait, we’re allowed to mention what we do, right? Just not names?”

“Or locations, even with travel distance. Round up to the hour if it comes up,” she replied.

“Sure, sure,” he agreed, trailing a step behind her as she led the way through the base.

In the common area, there was a bit of a ruckus happening. Soldier, Heavy, and Demo appeared to be having some kind of arm wrestling competition on a rapidly-toppling table, the Engineer was on a stepstool trying to fix the ceiling fan, and Sniper appeared to be half-watching the beginnings of an argument between Pyro and the Spy regarding use of the oven as Medic patched up a burn on his arm.

“Hullo,” Sniper greeted the two of them, sounding a little bored, Medic giving them a brief, polite nod. Normandy’s eyebrows were raised pretty far as he surveyed the room.

“Hi, Sniper,” she greeted in return, then cleared her throat, raised her voice. “Team meeting in five minutes! New mission for next week!”

Groans from the room at large, the eight mercenaries starting to finish up what they were doing and filing out. Spy moved over, glancing over Normandy and starting to talk to him in rapid-fire French, picking smaller bits of gravel off of his suit as they walked.

“Alright,” she addressed the room, Normandy peeling off from getting mother hen’d by Spy to stand next to the blackboard with her. “Monday, you’re all going on a transport mission. Getting the truck from point A to point B with everything in the boxes intact. Already we’ve had to put up with some people trying to get ahold of these things, so bring your guns.”

“Oh, our guns, you said? Lads, this is a serious one, keep your heads on a feckin' swivel, she’s sayin’ we might even need guns, can you believe it?” Demo faux-gasped, and chuckled when Spy bopped him on the arm, rolling his eyes at the Scot's theatrics.

“Yeah, yeah,” she waved off, flipping through the papers a bit. “So Engie, I’ll need the keys to the truck, me and Normandy are going to be loading those tomorrow, all of you need to be at this drop point bright and early.”

“How early?” Heavy rumbled.

“Six. Hour and a half of drive from here.”

Some complaints from the room that she sighed at.

“Hey, hey, calm the hell down,” Normandy cut in, and she glanced over at him where he had his arms crossed and a stern look on his face. “You chuckleheads get to have all eight of you to unload the damn thing, me and Miss P gotta do all the rest of this on our own and probably kill twenty guys on the way there and back. She had to be up at 6 AM, workin’ since 7 AM, lunch break at noon and nothin’ else, and we just got back now at, what, fuckin’, 10, 11 PM? Any of you work her shift and then see if you even got the energy to complain about wakin’ up early, how about that?”

The room went utterly devoid of complaint or backsass. “Thank you, Normandy,” she said politely, and he just nodded once, glancing off to the side. “Anyways, anything new on this end? Spy, how are you adjusting?”

“Very well,” he said simply. “I have nothing pressing to say. Once I’ve been updated from the stock weaponry provided here to my requested preferred weaponry, I believe I should do just fine.”

“I see you already have Herr Normandy digging graves,” Medic chimed in. “Straight into the hard labor, ja?”

“Eh, hey, y’know, it’s why they keep us young people around,” he shrugged, grinning, and there was a brief uproar to drown out Medic’s entirely offended scoffing and Spy’s snort-laughing.

“Get ‘im, lad!” Demo cheered, and Normandy indeed looked fairly proud of himself.

“Monday, transport mission,” Pauling noted over the noise, writing it up on the chalkboard to hide her own smile from the room. “Normandy, you and me are doing the boxes tomorrow. Everyone on the same page? Good. Dismissed. Oh, and Pyro—stop taking the fire alarms down when they beep. They’re beeping because you light things on fire in the base. Do that outside.”

“Oh, hey, uh, helmet guy, All-American Beef,” Normandy called, and Soldier straightened up. “Here’s your shovel back. Gettin’ my own tomorrow.”

 Soldier walked directly over to him, clasping a hand on his shoulder. “That’s a high honor, Cadet,” he said, tone grave. “Do not take this responsibility lightly.”

“I, uh, I won’t?” he said hesitantly, and blinked a few times as the shovel was carefully taken from him before it was promptly marched from the room in double-time. Only then did Normandy look over at her. “So he’s always like that?”

“You’ll get used to it,” she assured, dusting chalk from her hands. “You should get to sleep soon, we have to be up early.”

“Sure thing, Miss P.”

#tf2 #team fortress 2 #my fanfiction #dad!spy #father-son bonding au #shut up me #que?#in this au he picks a fake name like she does. later i think demo starts calling him norman and some of the others do as well as goofs #also apologies for montgomery i couldnt quite get away with not naming random rich guy. just barely scraped by with guards one through four #everybody talks

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mack3030 · 4 years ago

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Types of Paywall Abuse --- A post...

I think it’s time to tackle a topic that might make a few simmers uncomfortable, but we need to talk about it, because in addition to seeing a lot of people complain about it in general, I’ve also been getting some anons in my inbox talking about it. So let’s discuss this.

Now, first of all, I would like to clarify a couple of things:

When I speak of PAYWALLS here, I am talking about custom content that can ONLY be accessed by paying, or viewing an ad through a virus filled ad shortener link (which is just as bad). Pure early access content, where you pay for it and get it earlier than everyone else who gets it for free IS NOT PAYWALLED CONTENT.

This is why it is called a pay “WALL” because the wall portion indicates that you cannot access it without paying a fee/toll.

Second of all, I would like to remind the public at large that this is not hate, it is a critical commentary. I am not going to go for these creators personally, nor do I want to. I, as a member of the community who plays the sims 4, and downloads/uses CC, would like to simply hold some of these creators accountable for actions that are unethical and unsatisfactory to the community in which they serve. That is it. No more, no less. I simply believe they CAN do better and BE better than this.

Now, let’s get into the meat of this.

The main type of abuse that I have focused on has been what I call Permapaywalls.

Permapaywalls:

Content that cannot be accessed ANY other way than either paying a certain amount via patreon or another service, OR viewing a link through a virus-filled ad that puts your computer at risk.

There are many creators who are well known permapaywall creators, with at least 80% or more of their content being locked behind these permapaywalls. Sometimes they may release a few items for free, but this is very similar to being allowed to test drive a car before buying it. It’s to entice the user/viewer into liking the brand, and then buying in.

I’m not going to delve into this too much because I’ve already expounded on this topic a bit. So let’s go further.

The next type of abuse is what I like to call “Exclusive Loopholes”.

Exclusive Loopholes: Creators who try to “get around” EA’s early access policy by offering a majority of their content as early access, but holding back certain items only to those who “subscribe” to their “patreon exclusive” content.

There are some who are okay with this, thinking of this as a neat “bonus” for those who subscribe and support. However, the sims team made it clear:

Folks who have a Patreon page are welcome to provide folks with "early access" incentives for their content but it should be made available to the general public within 2-3 weeks of it being given to folks early.

- Simguru Drake, The Sims Forum

Notice nowhere in this answer does it say anything about BONUS CC incentives. Nowhere. This is just a method that certain creators try to use to keep people from decrying them as “big bad paywall creators”. This way they can say “oh look, we do early access, we’re following EA’s rules~!” while still holding content hostage.

If you want to offer your patreons some exclusives, here’s some ideas: * Share pictures of your process, or work in progress content coming up. * Allow them to have input into your process via polls and questions. * Have an exclusive discord community just for your patreons where they can talk to you easier and share excitement and input about your content with you and each other. * Have exclusive streams where only you and your patreons have the link to see you go live making content. * Host a workshop on how to make CC using your process. (I see all of you who steal meshes from other sites sweating over this. ;D) * Pause billing for a month and say “you know what, since you guys have been loyal and supported me, have a month of patreon on me!” * Anything that honestly doesn’t involve only giving those patreons CC and not releasing it to the public.

Let’s talk about another type, and oh my lanta, this type has had some anons messaging me ALL up in arms. I like to call this type “The Donation Disaster”.

Donation Disaster: Someone who CONSTANTLY uses the “downs” in the up/downs of life as excuses to not release content on time, or delay it while still collecting payment from patreons. Bonus “you’re a jerk” points if they then try to use those misfortunate circumstances to beg for even more money from their patreons on multiple occasions.

Look, we all have junk that goes on in our lives. But when that junk is used as an excuse for you continually delaying content while still charging your patreons (and not using the pause feature), it makes them feel cheated. In addition, when you then ask for donations to help you during your difficult time, and turn to your patreons instead of the support networks that are around you (ex: friends, family, religious communities, etc.), that can be VERY off-putting. You might be able to get away with it once, maybe twice, without a large chunk of your community turning against you. But the more regular it becomes, and the more they hear about how strapped for cash you are and how you’re asking them to give more than their pledge, and you’ll soon find yourself being called a scammer. Regardless of your intent, or if your problems are reality, you’ll find people’s empathy for your situation will be lacking.

I’ve had a few anons in my inbox talking about different patreon creators that always seem to have an excuse for why updates aren’t coming just yet, or why x is broken, and with their excuse comes a plea for help with bills, and a link to a paypal or venmo.

Everyone has junk, don’t get me wrong. And it sucks to go through the junk we have in life, but if you’re reaching out to random people on the internet as your first method of support, you might need to be looking someplace else for support first before you come to the people who are already paying you for content you make. A one time “hey I’m in a bind, I need some help” donation thing might not be a bad thing, but when it becomes a constant pattern on your patreon....people aren’t going to take it well...at all.

And last, but not least, I’d like to talk about the last kind of patreon abuse, which frankly, is really upsetting to me. I don’t even really have a name for it, because it’s literally so much of a “what?” thing in my head. I don’t even understand why it goes on. Now, this practice involves the black/POC community, and frankly, as a white girl, I don’t feel I should be speaking over the community and what they have to say. Thankfully @xmiramira spoke on it, all the way back in 2019. Here’s an excerpt from her fantastic POST:

Even new creators who JUST joined the community sliding up in TBS with locs and braids talking about Patreon only. GTFOH. I’m not okay with creators doing Patreon only CC PERIOD, but my main discussion is focused on NON BLACK simmers making CC catered to US, and making it PATREON EXCLUSIVE IN AN ATTEMPT TO FORCE US TO PLEDGE, and how people are ASSUMING that I’m OKAY WITH THIS, and ASSUMING that I’m letting it FLY in my community. Just because I don’t go off about shit as frequent as I used to doesn’t mean I cannot see and I am not doing what I can to keep the fuckery OUT.“Oh but your friend has a Patreon” I don’t have an issue with what @ebonixsims is doing because it’s all early release. It gets released to the public a few weeks later. It’s not being kept behind Patreon, forcing people to pledge to her. Despite this, she’s still doing really good with it. So don’t get it twisted, I’m not on social media arguing with folks so people just assumed I’m okay with this shit, I’m really not. I’m actually two seconds off dropping Patreon share folders. (That also have my shit in it) Supporting people is one thing, but a lot of these motherfuckers are becoming extremely exploitive, and it’s aggravating. It’s like you goofy motherfuckers sit in DMs like “yeah let’s make some CC for the negros and put it on Patreon” Fuck outta here. And it’s not even just hair, it’s skins and even CLOTHING STYLES. Y’all are really wilding the hell out. African necklaces, black girl magic chains, Juicy Couture sweatsuits. Who the fuck do you think you’re fooling? IM TIRED! Next time someone asks me where I got something and it’s Patreon exclusive I’m dropping a SFS link. FUCK OUTTA HERE!

Here’s the deal. The black community has been fighting for a while to be able to feel represented in this game. Here’s two articles (ONE, TWO) talking about this issue. But the thing that has me upset is the fact that SO many creators of content that is AIMED at Black/POC simmers are locking that content (or a good majority of it) behind paywalls. And what’s even more shameful is some of those creators are POC themselves! They understand what it’s like to feel that they cannot make themselves or have sims that look like them in this game, yet they still lock their content away and expect people not just in the SIMS community, but in the POC community to pay through the nose for it. The fact that this is STILL going on, two freaking years after she made this post, and that both NON POC creators and POC creators are engaging in this behavior is honestly disappointing and shameful. I believe black/POC creators should be supported, BUT they should be supported without depriving their OWN community of representation and access. And frankly, if you’re a NON POC creator and you’re specifically targeting this group to make money off of them with paywalls, I have only one thing to say to you:

I’d speak on it more, but frankly, I’d rather let the people who are actually in the black/POC community speak on it, so if any of you want to let loose in the comments about this problem, go wild. I’m happy to sit back and listen, and I suggest others do the same.

#nopaywalls #sims4 #sims4mm #sims4alpha #support early access creators #stop being a jerk #patreon abuse

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ghostlywritten · 4 years ago

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If Only I Had Stayed in The Shadows - Prologue

James Potter x OC

Words: 3,7k

Cecily Grant. At your service. Ordinary Sixth Year Gryffindor, Chaser of the Quidditch team and mediocre witch. Dreams of becoming the number one Healer anyone has ever seen (at least my parents think that's my dream) and having my first kiss before I bloody graduate. Don't I sound absolutely charming? Special? Note-worthy?

No. And apparently the rest of the school agrees since I hardly get acknowledged by anyone outside of class...or year. We're a big school, of course no one knows everyone. But at least within one year...

"OI, are you daydreaming again?" Marlene flicked my forehead. Oh well, I guess some did notice me.

"It's not called daydreaming when I'm just trying to ignore your traditional boy rant in the morning," I teased, picking the sweet back up to munch on it.

Marlene scoffed, "At least, I have boys to rant about." She flipped me off when I pressed my hand against my heart with an inaudible 'ouch', causing her to giggle.

Yeah, I shouldn't be complaining about my life. I have an established friendship group, my grades are good enough to satisfy my parents and Hogwarts was an amazing school in general. Plus, I even had a hobby. Quidditch. Hah, take that.

Nonetheless, the routine that my life had become was pretty boring, depressing even if I were to look at my boy's department. Or rather, lack of. I know I shouldn't identify myself through the boyfriends I had or had not, because I'm more than that (female empowerment, y'all!) but as a sixteen year old you are simply not able to resist the urge to want a male in your life and experience all that romantic ish. Especially when you see all your friends developing crushes. Not that I had never not developed a crush. I currently had more than one crush to be honest. But their crushes were actually two-sided and resulted in dates and relationships…well, Marlene's did at least. If Lily would only get as far as a second date until the bloke suddenly disappeared from Hogwarts (just kidding, they would just run away at first sight). Three guesses, whose fault that was.

Anyways, back to me because at least in my story I want to be the protagonist. My crushes were never reciprocated even if I thought so at the beginning (Marlene's fault mostly), so I was left as probably the only Sixth Year in Gryffindor's history to have never been in a romantic relationship. And mind you, I don't have big expectations. I can't really in my position. I'm no Lily Evans with her shiny red hair and bright, emerald green eyes and neither a Marlene McKinnon with her tanned skin, hazelnut brown hair- I'm getting off topic again, which is me.

I sighed. Not even in my thoughts I could keep the attention to myself, why would anyone else?

…

"She's not listening again," Marlene huffed, flicking my forehead.

After that inner-monologue at breakfast, I headed off to the first class this morning; History of Magic. I had a distinct feeling I would continue with that monologue in class. No wonder, I failed that class in my O.W.L's. Meh, whatever.

Since Lily and Marlene were closer friends than any of them with me, it was natural for them to sit together in every class, which caused me to slip into any free seat next to someone I usually never talk to. Joy.

To my surprise, I saw a vacant seat next to Remus Lupin, who was still standing and taking his stuff out whilst his two friends Sirius Black and James Potter took over the seats behind them. Ah, now the infamous Marauders. Minus one that is mysteriously missing right now. But nonetheless, no one would dare split the four apart, knowing they are always together and always partnering in each class-

"Hey Remus," I greeted the sandy-haired boy cheerfully, plopping on the seat next to him. I wasn't a Gryffindor for nothing. Remus gave me a surprised smile, seemingly not minding and I was sure as hell not going to ask. At least, he wasn't a total stranger. I was proud to say that every Sixth Year knew every Sixth Year within their house at least. And since I was on the Gryffindor team, I was known to him solely because of James Potter and Sirius Black, who were both players as well, the former even having been named Captain this year.

"Hey Cecily, how you doing?" Remus asked politely, settling himself down. His skin looked paler than usual upon closer inspection and he looked positively exhausted. I took out a bar of chocolate I always kept in the pockets of my robes (for emergencies only, of course!) and offered him some. "Good, and you?" I asked as he gratefully accepted without question. He was used to me randomly offering him some. "Fine, had a bit of a restless night, but should be better tomorrow," he said quietly, which went mostly unheard when one rowdy Sirius hollered from back, "Oi, aren't you gonna offer some to us as well?"

I glanced backwards at the two notorious troublemakers. "Um, no?" Sirius pouted and any ordinary girl would start to swoon at the sight. I'm ordinary, so I did. But years of practice taught me to only do it internally. And the amount of times I caught him with his tongue down another girl's throat was enough disgust to keep myself sane whilst resting my eyes on his unnatural beauty. I ain't kidding, really. He was handsome in ways that sometimes made me question whether he was a male-Veela. Those surely existed. Perfectly groomed, thick black hair, striking grey eyes, an annoyingly perfect nose and a jaw line that could cut someone in half. I am ashamed to admit there was a time where I would have gladly let him stomp on me if that would have made him acknowledge me.

I mean, come on, who hadn't had a crush on him, male and female? I was convinced, James did and was just trying to cover it with his constant profession of love towards one Lily Evans. I shall explain in a minute but let's first get through my most important description of the next Marauder, who was unfortunately now my Captain.

Unfortunate, because he already had been a nightmare in the last two years I had been on the team, constantly taking over the leader spot from the actual Captain to order us around, demanding more laps, longer practice hours until we were all bruised and frustrated enough to attempt a mutiny even though he wasn't even on charge. Imagine, how he was going to be now with the actual permission to order us around? I still have nightmares.

Besides that, he was probably also the leader of the little Marauder gang, a dumb name for their tight-knit group of friends. I couldn't deny though I was a bit envious of their friendship and I could imagine many others were, too.

Didn't change the fact that their gang name sounded stupid. Now, why I think James Potter is secretly crushing on his best mate (like every sane person would); I could hardly take his 'undying' love for Lily seriously, mainly because he had such ridiculous ways of professing his love for her that I doubted he was serious about it…or sirius. Heh. Anyways, he would probably be more believable if he weren't always so damn public about his declarations. That was also probably the reason why Lily was able to reject him all this time and call him an arrogant toe-rag in all her hateful rants. It didn't seem like she believed him.

Otherwise it would be hard to resist him for years. I mean, he was handsome, smart if he wanted to be and a pretty good Quidditch player. The whole package, really.

Merlin, I sounded like I had a crush on him, too. BUT. To be honest, everyone would have a crush on him as well as Sirius if he wasn't so 'devoted'.

I mentally slapped myself. At this rate, I would crush on Frank Longbottom's toad. "I seriously need a boyfriend," I muttered to myself.

"Hm, what was that?" Remus asked amused, chuckling quietly. Just then did I hear the complaints of the boys behind me.

"Are we air?"

"You siriusly going to ignore your Captain? That's ten extra laps this Thursday, Grant!"

I just remembered why I could keep my crushes under control. At least when it came to these two.

"Nothing," I muttered to Remus before turning over, raising an eyebrow at them, "What do you want?"

"Respect."

"Chocolate."

"Sorry, I have neither for you two," I said with a shrug, turning back over whilst they spluttered. It was easy handling them after years of practice together. Besides these interactions at class and on the Quidditch field, we had no other kind of connection, which was good for my heart.

But well, that would change quickly.

"Why is Remus always getting chocolate and we don't?" Sirius complained after class as I packed up the rest of the bar along with other stuff (such as the piece of parchment and quill I didn't use at all for this lesson). Rolling my eyes, I offered him some. "No, I don't want it anymore."

"Jeez, like a kid," I said loudly, "And for the record, I do it because Remus gives me his notes. Doesn't he?" I directed the question towards my seat partner with the most innocent smile. Remus Lupin with the gentle chuckle. He would probably be a heartthrob as well if it weren't for his quiet and introverted nature. In fact, all of the Marauders could be heartthrobs. Except Peter Pettigrew. Who was part of the gang for some reason. 'But even he is in a relationship right now,' I thought miserably, 'Probably off snogging his girlfriend and skipping class..'

"Of course I do," Remus answered, charming his notes to double and handing me the copy.

"Thanks, Remus!" I said cheerily, stuffing the notes into my bag before swinging it over and trudging past the protesting boys, "Hey, why don't we ever get your notes?!"

I ran to catch up with Marlene and Lily, who were already on their way to Herbology. "Hey girls, wait up!" They startled into a stop, "Oh, right. Sorry Cecily, we should have waited for you," Lily said sweetly and I grimaced. I was probably the Peter Pettigrew in our little friendship group.

Not that I could blame them. Lily and Marlene were both popular, extraordinary beauties and smart on top. I was the boring, ordinary looking and mediocre Peter that had nothing special to her name.

But that would change.

The days passed in a blur of classes, gossip and studying. The usual boring tirade, really. The only thing I looked forward to was food. And Quidditch.

So, imagine my elation when Thursday came up…and the sour mood I got in when James actually demanded those extra ten laps, apparently being good at holding a grudge. "Keep it up, Chaser No. 2!"

"Honestly, Potter," I huffed, coming to a stand in front of him, the only one still on the ground besides him as everyone was already up on their brooms.

"It's Captain, Chaser No. 2."

"Seriously? Chaser No. 2?"

"Well, there are three Chasers. I have to tell them apart."

"You have to tell them apart?" I snorted, "Potter, you know every player's name, family background, favourite team and player."

"True, and the Montrose Magpies still suck."

"They don't!"

"They do!"

"Still better than the Chudley Cannons!"

"Take that back!"

"Nope."

"Ten more laps."

I snorted again, mounting my broom. "As if."

"Grant, you get back down here this instant!"

"Who the hell is Grant? I'm Chaser No. 2," I yelled back, causing Sirius to bark a laugh as he heard. We started simulating a game with Team A against Team B for a while before mixing the players together. I rolled my eyes as Archie Stan knocked his shoulder against mine more roughly than necessary in an attempt to loosen my grip on the Quaffle. I wasn't born yesterday though, my grip tighter on the ball than a package of almond biscuits.

"Good, Chaser No. 2!" James shouted as I threw the Quaffle through the loop, whooping exaggerately, "Wooo -oof!" I clutched my broomstick to regain my balance as Stan knocked against me from behind this time, the air leaving my lungs for a second at the unexpected hit. "Watch it, Sideline-Chaser No. 3!"

"Not cool, bro!" Sirius and Frank booed, causing the Seventh Year boy to roll his eyes.

"Alright, everyone. Good game today," James called out, wrapping up the practice. We all cheered in relief, flying towards the ground to stretch and loosen up. "Don't act like you didn't enjoy it!" Our captain stated cheekily, grinning broadly now that he left the Captain mode behind. The others grumbled under their breaths as we all made our way to the locker rooms. I rubbed my sore shoulder, the rough handling having left a bit of a mark. "You alright there, Grant?" James asked as I passed him by.

"Yeah, just sore."

"Stan is an idiot," James commented, looking after the boy in question, "He is still bitter about how you took over his spot on the A team."

"His fault that he sucks," I muttered, causing the messy-haired boy to chuckle. "He doesn't suck. You are just better than him."

"Wow, can't believe I'm hearing a compliment from the Captain that only knows how to motivate us with insults."

He winked, catching me off guard, "Don't get used to it." I stared for a second at his smirk, wondering how he could pull that off without seeming arrogant like Sirius. Maybe it had to do with his unruly hair that gave him somewhat of a boyish, innocent look or maybe the warmth in his almond eyes that would turn into pure amber if the sun hit him in the face…

'I'm thinking way too much about this,' I thought, shaking myself out of it with a mental slap.

"Evans!" he suddenly called out, causing me to flinch in surprise. His entire expression brightened tenfold as he spotted the red-head over my shoulder. I turned to see her trudging over along with Marlene and Alice Prewett, who was probably the sole reason why they were here in the first place as she always wanted to cheer for her boyfriend. "Glad to see you are here to support the Gryffindor team! Or did you just come to watch me in my natural element?"

"Neither, Potter. Quidditch is useless," Lily commented harshly, and I winced slightly at the sharp tone she had solely reserved for him, watching how James' ego deflated along with his puffed-out chest.

"Touché," he chuckled, almost choking on the word and I could practically see his inner battle between agreeing with the love of his life and defending his love for the game.

"Excuse me, Quidditch isn't useless!" I protested indignantly. Lily just rolled her eyes good-naturedly as she walked past us with the other girls, who simply gave me small smiles in passing. I huffed. I really needed friends that supported this game.

"One day…," James sighed blissfully, staring after them, "One day she will admit her love for me and we will be together forever."

I shifted slightly, "Yeaaahhhh."

He frowned, straightening up to his full height, "You don't think so?"

Lie. Lie. Say everything else but what you really think, "I think you are in love with Sirius and trying to cover it up."

I TOLD YOU TO-

"W-what?" James spluttered and I snapped my head over my shoulder, "Yep, I'm coming!" I called back to the owl that flew past us in that moment, swiftly turning to walk away, "Bye Potter!"

"Wait, hold up!" the dark-haired boy caught me by the hood of my uniform, successfully pulling me back and I grimaced, "What the bloody hell do you mean I'm in love with Padfoot?!"

"Who isn't?" the boy in question asked, coming up towards after the quickest shower ever. I facepalmed in embarrassment as he walked over, ruffling his still wet hair.

"I'm certainly not!" James exclaimed, shaking me slightly with his grip on my hood, "She thinks so!"

"Oh?" Sirius raised an eyebrow at me, smirking in amusement, "I thought you were talking about her being in love with me."

"You know you gonna catch a cold if you walk around with your hair wet in this weather," I pointed out, trying to change the subject. Not that I was actually in love with him but since I had a tiny crush and I was really bad at lying, I would probably blurt something out that would make them think I was.

"Don't change the subject. Why the hell do you think I'm in love with Padfoot?"

"Well, for one. You have a pet name for him," I pointed out.

"For Moony and Wormtail, too! And they call him that, too!"

"Maybe it's a group thing then," I said dismissively, trying to find a way out and finally hit the showers, crawl into my bed and die. The longest conversation with the two heartthrobs yet and it had to be about my thoughts on their relationships.

"It's not!" Both James and Sirius denied.

"Two negatives make one positive," I said with a grin.

"Well, I wouldn't hold it against any of the blokes if they were in love with me," Sirius stated, flipping his hair and placing a hand on James' shoulder, "You can tell me, I won't judge."

James shrugged him off, "Of course, I don't! I never did, I don't now and I'm never going to!" Then he paused, "You don't think anyone else thinks that?"

Sirius shrugged and shook his head simultaneously, "Why would they?"

"Yeah, why would they?" I agreed hastily, side-stepping discreetly in hopes of- "YOU think so? You tell me!" James demanded, blocking my way.

I sighed, "I was just kidding."

"You were not."

I frowned, "How do you know?"

James pinched his nose. "You don't think Evans thinks I'm in love with Padfoot, do you?"

Shrugging, I leaned against my broomstick with a sigh, realising that this would take longer than I would like to, "How would I know?"

"Because you are friends?"

"Yeah, but I don't always listen when they talk about boy stuff." Mainly because I didn't always want to feel the green eyed monster crawling up whenever they talked about their dates or relationships or even drama. I wish I had some drama to talk about.

"And why do you think I do?" James pressed.

I blinked. "Do what?"

"Love Padfoot!" James said loudly in exasperation, causing heads to turn as the other players slowly got out of the locker room, freshened up.

"Is that your way of matchmaking, James?" Frank called out teasingly, "Shouting at the victim to love your best mate?"

"Oi, what do you mean 'victim'?" Sirius shouted back as the others laughed around us. I went beet red.

"This conversation is over, Potter," I decided, side-stepping him swiftly to walk towards the locker rooms. The girls looked at me questioningly, but I just shook my head as I walked into the warm room, James hot on my heels.

"I'm serious, Grant. Why do you think I'm in love with Padfoot and not Evans? Does she think that? Is she doubting my love for her?" he fired one question after another as he followed me.

"Well, maybe," I replied to his last question as I placed broomstick against the wall next to the girls' changing rooms door, stopping with a hand on the handle, "I mean, it would explain why she hasn't agreed to go out with you after your countless times of asking her."

"How is asking someone out causing someone to doubt their love for them?" James asked incredulously as he proceeded to try and follow me inside the room.

"Off limits, Potter!" I said sternly with half a foot inside the room as he stood right in front of me.

"Captain here, Grant!" James retaliated, pushing me inside before half-closing the door to give me some privacy. I sighed, figuring that would be all I would get as I opened my locker. "Now, answer the question!"

"Well, maybe it's just the way you are handling your 'love' for her," I mused as I changed, knowing he wouldn't stop pestering me unless I satisfied his curiousity.

"What do you mean?"

"You are being overbearing about it. Obnoxious," I explained, grinning at his childish scoff, "I mean, I would have believed you at some point after all these years, but your affections seem kind of…superficial, given the fact that you never tried to actually get to know her."

"…How do you know all that? Did she tell you that?"

I blushed. "Y-yeah, probably." I was glad he couldn't see my red face from lying. It was still better than telling him that I was mindlessly obsessing over my friend's relationships and boy dramas since I had none myself. Sighing, I stuffed my Quidditch robes into my sack before throwing it over my shoulder and heading towards the door.

Unsurprisingly, James stood there still, an unusual thoughtful expression on his face. "So, you think I should get to know her more?"

"I think you should leave her alone."

"What? I can't-"

"I mean, everything you try at this point will be fruitless because Lily won't believe you like she hasn't all the years before," I explained patiently, "It would be smarter to just lean back and be civil for a while, give her space to breathe instead of giving her yet another reason to complain how much of an arrogant toe-rag you are."

James went quiet for a second and I wondered if I had imagined the slight flicker of hurt in his eyes at my words. "She really said that?" he asked softly and I mentally berated myself for throwing that in his face thoughtlessly.

"Maybe not with those words…," I tried to deny but he saw right through it, sighing heavily as he ran a hand through his air.

"…Be civil, eh?"

I nodded whilst simultaneously wondering how I had suddenly become a relationship counsellor for my Quidditch Captain. "Be civil."

Little did I know how this little conversation got the ball rolling towards the most unexpected direction.

Chapter One

#james potter #james potter x reader #james potter imagine #james potter fanfiction #sirius black #sirius black imagine #remus lupin #remus lupin imagine #lily evans #marlene mckinnon #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter imagine #marauders #marauders era #marauders imagine

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imagining-in-the-margins · 5 years ago

Text

Here to Misbehave (Pt. 14 | S.R.)

Summary: Separated and terrified, Spencer and Reader rely on their unique skills to survive. The team, minus Penelope and Derek, don’t know who the strange girl in the bank is, but they find out very interesting things about her history.

A/N: I don’t know how banks work. Idk how heists work. I know nothing. I hope you enjoy it anyway! Couple: Spencer/Fem!Reader   Category: ANGST. Just. All of it. All of the angst. Every bit.   Content Warning: Gun violence, discussions of death and dying Word Count: 10k

MASTERLIST

—————————————————

“Hello, my name is (y/n)(y/l/n) and I’m calling from the Bank of America on K St. Northwest to report shots fired. The shots sounded like burst-fire from multiple semiautomatics.”

When adrenaline kicks in, there are a lot of things that don’t feel real. Time seems to warp into some ominous presence weighing down on you, but your body has never felt lighter.

“Ma’am, where are you?” Her voice sounded so far away. My own just felt foreign, like it belonged to someone else entirely.

“I’m inside the bathroom. Listen, I might not have a lot of time. There’s a federal agent inside the bank. His name is SSA Dr. Spencer Reid with the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit. Call...”

My mouth blanked on the names of the two men Spencer talked about the most. I’d met them both, why couldn’t I remember?

Several more shots rang through the building as an answer. It was enough to shake loose the names, which flowed from me before I could even comprehend where they came from.

“Call SSA Aaron Hotchner and… Derek Morgan.”

“Can you remain on the line?” She sounded insistent — which is against their protocol by the way. My eyes were glued to the bathroom door’s hinges.

“Only until the door opens.”

The sentence conveyed my thoughts without actually forming the words. Once that door opens, I’m probably going to die. It wasn’t a completely irrational fear.

“Okay. I need you to remain calm. Did you see any of the gunmen?”

Jesus, it was like everything I’d just told her had gone completely over her head. “No, I’m in the bathroom.”

“Does the agent have his service weapon?”

“No.”

If she didn’t ask me a question I could say yes to soon, I was going to lose my fucking mind.

I tried not to think about Spencer outside, but I couldn’t help it. All of my thoughts were on him, even before the commotion.

Was he even still alive?

“Help is on the way, Ms. (Y/l/n).”

“Please hurry.”

My entire body shook from the hormones, my instincts telling me to do anything besides sit crouched on a toilet in a bathroom stall. I don’t even know why I bothered hiding. They would definitely kick them in, or just shoot straight through the doors.

“We’ve contacted Agent Hotchner and he’s also on his way.”

Finally, some good fucking news. I released my breath as quietly as I could, closing my eyes for just a moment to compensate for the fact I hadn’t blinked in several minutes.

“Thank you,” I whispered, clutching the phone like it could actually do something for me past this point. But it couldn’t. No amount of breathing exercises would help me through this one.

Suddenly, there was movement outside the door. A crowd of people were shuffling past the door, and I heard the distinct sound of a toddler wailing.

“I have to go.”

“Wait, don’t hang up—“

I couldn’t wait, though. With trembling hands, I erased the evidence that I’d ever called them in the first place. And then I resumed my position as a sitting duck; quietly and as ready as I ever could be.

I listened for his voice, but I never heard it.

—————————————————

Three seconds.

Did you know that a semiautomatic weapon can fire up to three rounds per second, depending on how fast the user can pull the trigger?

After the first shot is fired, no one moves. Puzzled and alert, people are paralyzed. Your first reaction is to look for the source of the sound. It’d been a second before I turned to see the three armed people and two dead security guards behind me.

It takes the average person one and a half seconds to cognitively process that they're in a potentially life-threatening situation. It takes another .7 seconds for a physical response to kick in.

Three seconds.That was long enough for a maximum of nine shots per person to be fired- twenty-seven shots in total; it was long enough for the air to be filled with the sudden outburst of helpless screams the patrons of the bank, and it was long enough for me to realize that I didn’t have my gun and that my girlfriend wasn’t by my side.

“Everybody get down on the ground!”

Amid the chaos, I felt that all too familiar twisting sensation in my gut that begged time to reverse just enough for this to be a dream. Enough time to reverse the decisions that led us here.

But time was a cruel mistress, and she did not plan to bend to the whims of mankind, no matter how desperate.

Another deafening burst of sound rang through the air, shots fired into the ceiling now as myself and the others fell to the ground.

My gaze was fixed on the bathroom entrance. I couldn’t breathe. Please, I begged, stay hidden.

“Listen up! If everyone does what we say, you can all go back to your boring fucking lives.”

Injuries occur in less than two percent of bank robberies. Deaths occur in less than one. Saturdays are the second to least likely day for a robbery to take place. In the past 5 years, less than 10 people have been killed in bank robberies, and most of them were the perpetrators. Statistics usually calmed me down and helped me focus.

But these people didn’t care about statistics. They were defying the odds I had just recited to myself. They had already killed two people. Our luck was already stacked against us.

“Take everything out of your pockets and put it in front of you.”

As soon as the order was given, I was running through an inventory of everything in my pockets. It didn’t take me long to realize that with a cursory inspection of the items, they would figure out who I was.

But what were the odds that they would actually scrutinize them? I figured they were fairly low; you don’t rob a bank to get cheap jewelry and petty cash, even in a bank. What were the odds they would notice if I left something in my pocket — especially if my wallet was in front of me. If it wasn’t large enough to be a weapon, and I put out my objects of value, why wouldn’t I put out the rest of the contents?

So I decided to take the risk, removing my wallet while retaining my separate identification.

Luckily, the attention seemed pretty far removed from me. If I wasn’t too busy being extremely grateful, I might have been offended that they didn’t consider me a threat in the building.

“Alright ladies, all of you get up and follow my lovely friend here. You’re going on a little trip. Fellas, you stay right where you are.”

The sound of my heart pounding drowned out the instructions that weren’t intended for me. It was fine, I hadn’t planned on moving, anyway. As long as I could see the door to the bathroom, I was perfectly fine right where I was.

But I still felt for the terrified women that were shakily rising to their feet. To my right, I saw a woman struggling to hold a small infant. My heart was fracturing at the struggle, wishing I could help her. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t risk doing anything that might draw attention to myself.

I felt like a traitor. I felt useless. I was quite literally trained to handle this exact situation, but now that I was here, I couldn’t move. I wasn’t thinking about strategy or how to maximize efficiency; all I was thinking about was her.

“Jake!” A woman’s voice screamed from the other side of the room. When I turned, I heard the sound of a rifle cracking against bone before the man hit the ground.

“Jake, huh?” The man above him laughed, using the business end of the rifle to turn the disoriented man on his side. “Well, Jake, how would you feel about your girlfriend watching you die?”

“Please don’t hurt him!” The woman sobbed, scrambling up off the floor that she’d resisted leaving. I wondered if (y/n) would have refused to leave me, too.

The man prodded the woman with the gun, urging her to follow the rest while simultaneously providing easy enough instructions. The man apparently named Jake made a few noises of desperate protest as he watched her leave.

“Shut the fuck up!”

“I’m sorry,” Jake pleaded, “I’m sorry, please don’t hurt her. I’ll be quiet.”

Smart man. I understood his hesitancy, though. His girlfriend kept her neck craned back until she was no longer in sight, gazing back at him for as long as she physically could. I closed my eyes just for a moment, to try and combat their current strain.

Unfortunately, just like it always seems to happen, that’s when they spoke the words I had been dreading.

“Hey, you check the bathrooms yet?”

“Nah, I got it.”

I closed my eyes tighter now, scared that if I opened them, I’d give myself away. There was no possible way that I could hide the terror I currently felt. To be fair, I think it was only natural to be scared — but not like this.

There was a loud crashing noise of doors slamming, and the voice I knew better than I knew my own reached my ears, making sounds I’d never heard from her before.

Don’t fight them. I pleaded again, Please, don’t fight them.

“Let go of me!” She screamed as the door to the bathroom swung open. Unable to keep my eyes shut any longer, I opened them to see her clawing at the ground as she was dragged out by her ankle. “I can walk by myself! Let go of me!”

I wasn’t sure if she didn’t see me in the commotion, or if she’d just made the decision to act like she hadn’t. Either way, I was grateful. Still, my worries were justified as one of the three unsubs walked over to me.

“Why are you looking at her like that? You know her?”

Craning my head up, I shook my head no. It must not have been very convincing; the rage in my heart at them for thrusting her into this situation evident in my eyes.

“You wanna play hero, kid?”

“Sorry. No.” I muttered, taking a deep breath in a failed attempt to regulate my heart rate or my voice, “She’s… very loud. I get headaches.”

“Yeah well, deal with it.”

That might have been the end of it, if I’d played my hand better. But it turned out that the risk I had previously elected to take was woefully miscalculated. I didn’t meet their eyes anymore, knowing that doing so might threaten whatever frail illusion of masculinity they possessed.

It still didn’t stop them from holding the gun to my head.

“Empty your pockets.”

“Okay. I can do that, but I have to put my hand in my pocket.” I explained, moving my shaking hand to my back pocket, “It’s not a weapon.”

For once, I was grateful that I was the resident wimp when it came to stressful situations. Sure, I could handle myself, but I definitely didn’t look like I wanted to be there. Had I been any more of a visible threat, I was certain they would have figured out my identity long before this point. They might even have killed me right away.

“Hurry up.”

Swallowing hard, I pulled the identification from my pocket, flipping it open and holding it up for him to see, my gaze aimed fully forward. He snatched the badge away, a cheeky chuckle and a smile in his words.

“FBI, huh? Well, aren’t we lucky. You just became our most valuable player.”

—————————————————

Morgan arrived on the scene relatively unhurried and mostly just curious. The information Garcia had sent over text message was vague, likely due to the crime being a local one. Nothing about this seemed to be the BAU’s usual fare.

It took him almost no time to find Hotch, dressed in casual clothing, surrounded by the massive response team swarming around the bank. But Hotch hadn’t spotted him yet, fully involved with SWAT.

“What’s going on?”

Finally turning to notice his arrival, Hotch gave his normal matter-of-fact report in his simple, succinct manner. “Three people stormed the bank approximately 20 minutes ago and killed two security guards. There are 19 confirmed hostages inside the bank.”

But there was one significant detail that seemed to be missing, and Morgan started to scan the crowd for familiar faces as he spoke. “Hotch, this doesn’t sound like anything we’ve been working on. Why are we responding?”

“The caller alerted us that Reid is inside.”

The words were so unexpected that Morgan actually did a double take, his eyebrows furrowed and bowed as he replayed them in his head. “Wait, how did the caller know that?”

“I don’t know,” Hotch said with an equally perplexed look, gripping tighter to the communicator in his hand, “but she referred to us and him by name.”

‘She?’ Morgan thought, his heart stopping for a second as he excused himself from Hotch’s side, pulling out his phone and frantically calling Garcia, who had already made her way to the BAU.

“Hey there handsome.” It was a mild nickname for the famed Penelope Garcia, but Derek knew that she was probably already in a tough spot. After all, it’s not every day that one of their own is in these situations. At least, not unexpectedly.

“Hey Garcia, do you have eyes on the people in the bank?”

He could hear the feverish click-clacking of keys on the other end, followed closely by her equally frantic voice. “I’m working on it but so far I can only see the main lobby. They separated the women and the men for some reason. Why would they do that?”

“Just focus,” he calmly reminded, “Can you see the women?”

“No. All the women and children were moved to the back.”

Rubbing his face to try and relieve the tension that had quickly made its home over his jaw, Morgan glanced over at the entrance to the bank. It was strange to think that so much had happened so quickly.

Garcia had mentioned twice now that the women had been moved to the back, and he was trying to figure out why they would do that beyond the usual control mechanisms.

“I’m trying to see in the back now, but apparently banks take their video surveillance far more seriously than everything else. Last I checked, a camera never stole money or fired a gun!”

“Focus, babygirl.” It was an instruction for himself just as much as it was for her.

“Sorry, I’m nervous, and you know how I get when I’m nervous!” She squeaked, “I don’t like seeing you guys on my screens. I’d much rather see you in person, safe and sound and preferably smiling.”

Trying not to lose his patience, Morgan just sighed. It wasn’t her fault. It was no one’s fault, except that of the bastards who just had to go and ruin a perfectly nice weekend.

“Can you at least tell me who the caller was? Did they call from inside?”

“They were inside and, one second, let me check, it was... oh.” Her voice cut off abruptly, dropping into a high pitched, desperate whisper. “Oh no.”

“What?”

“It’s... the girl from the movies,” Garcia’s voice got faster and more panicked, “Derek, it’s (y/n). It’s Reid’s girlfriend. Reid’s girlfriend is inside the bank.”

Now that his suspicions had been confirmed, he wasn’t really sure what to do with the information. Because now that he knew Reid wasn’t alone, he felt the need to tell Hotch.

A profiler with a loved one involved was in dangerous territory. It wasn’t just Reid, but Morgan had personally seen just how unhinged Reid could get when it came to (y/n).

“Can you see her?” He asked, his voice lower than it was before.

“Oh, god, yes! I can!” It was not the kind of excited exclamation Morgan had hoped to hear, but at least he had confirmation she was alive. “She was in the bathroom but… They’re dragging her away…”

Morgan had tried not to pry too far in his best friend’s life before, and he took a moment to consider whether his next request was honestly necessary, or if he was just trying to find a reason to snoop.

But he wasn’t. There was something off about that girl. It wasn’t that she was bad or wrong, but she was far too comfortable in situations that didn’t call for it. The way she carried herself told him that she had held her own hand too often.

“Garcia, I know I’ve already done this to you once but... I need you to tell me everything you can find on her.”

—————————————————

My entire body ached; the sensation of an unfamiliar hand clenched tightly around my ankle burned long after I was released. It was definitely sprained, at the very least. I didn’t dare try to touch it, though. It wouldn’t be worth the trouble, and the bristling discomfort kept me where I was.

Which, for now was on my knees in the backroom of a bank lobby. Beside us was a large, heavily reinforced steel door with way too many different contraptions. I decided then that this whole arms race between burglars and corporate America had gotten a little fucking ridiculous.

But however annoyed I was by that, I was far more irritated by the hushed bickering between the man and woman holding rifles on the other side of the room. I could only hear every couple of words, but I got the gist of what they were arguing about.

Apparently, they’d never heard of an alarm system that’s connected to locks, which seemed extremely stupid for people who had gotten this far. In hindsight, that should have been my first clue that something was off about this entire situation.

Still, I couldn’t deal with them making the same fucking arguments over and over, so eventually I blurted out what I’m certain any millennial in the room would know. “The keycard won’t work if they’ve sounded the alarm.”

The statement earned me a gun to my face, and after a brief second of confusion, I flinched away from the cold metal of the barrel.

“What was that, sweetheart?” She was clearly looking to gauge my reaction rather than actually ask me to repeat the information. That was fine. I wasn’t exactly a talented actress, and I didn’t see the point in pretending to be meek.

If she was going to kill me, she was going to do it. Although I was certain Spencer would disagree, I chose to believe that our fate is dictated long before it happens. I was not a profiler; if I survived, it would be because I had been taught to survive through brute force and spite rather than calm negotiation.

“The keycard system is linked to the alarms,” I said, slower now, “Someone hit the alarm, so the cards aren’t going to work. You’ll need to use the old school keys.”

Her eyes narrowed, her voice dropping to a much lower register as she crouched down to my height. “How would you know? You work here?”

“No, my dad worked security.” It wasn’t a lie as much as it was an understatement, but she didn’t need to know that. I guess that’s one of those good things growing up with the dad I did; I got very comfortable speaking in vague generalities. Spencer hated it.

“Well, your daddy isn’t here to help you now.”

Wasn’t that the damn truth. But that didn’t mean I was alone, I reminded myself. Despite being dragged and my vision turned literally upside down, I had caught a glimpse of him in the lobby. He was alive. That thought alone was keeping me sane right now.

“The different keys you need for an override are probably kept on separate people so one person can’t do it alone. Probably the different managers.” I muttered, nodding to the side where one of the employees flinched at my words. Anything to get away from the fucking gun in my face.

“Is she right?” The woman sneered to the manager, turning her full attention to someone else. I felt a little guilty, since the poor manager seemed a lot less put together than I was. But hey, they needed her, too.

“Yes, I already gave you my keys,” she squeaked, holding her trembling hands up, “Th-There’s another set behind the desk I think.”

“Would you look at that...” It was the first time the man in the room addressed me since he had pulled me out of the stall, and I had to admit I wasn’t exactly a fan of his. But at the same time, I knew that he was going to be remarkably more receptive to me than the woman. She seemed to be the one who was actually in charge.

“Little miss problem was actually helpful,” he cheered, raising his weapon to point to the ceiling as he approached me. I chewed nervously on my cheeks, trying to meet his eyes but finding them uncomfortably bare.

“You should turn off the camera too, I’m just saying.” This time I didn’t nod, using one cautious finger to point to the small device that was currently staring right at me. I understood that it was probably helpful to Spencer’s team to be able to see, but I wasn’t really keen on my death being videotaped... as well as anything else I might end up doing.

‘Never leave a trace.’ That’s what I’d always heard.

‘Keep’em guessing. Even if you think it’s gonna kill you, because you don’t want to live with that over your head.’

“Fine. Do that and go get the keys.” He sounded intrigued, and I felt his searing gaze against my face.

“I think you should do it.”

The tension from before, when the two were arguing, had quickly resurfaced. She clearly didn’t trust him to be alone in the room, which solidified my belief that she was calling the shots, and he was just being dragged along for the ride.

In another life, I might have respected her ability to order stupid men around.

“Why the fuck is that?” He snapped, earning a bored roll of her eyes. The next thing out of her mouth was expected, but unfortunately the last thing I wanted to hear.

“I want to talk to her alone.”

Great. And naturally, her idea of ‘talking’ to me included weaponry. Using the end of the gun to tilt my head up to her, she gave a suspicious smile.

“Why are you helping us?”

“I want to go home.” It was my immediate and instinctual answer. It was the truth. I was helping them because I wanted to get the fuck out of here.

But you know, people expect everyone to have a squeaky-clean moral compass, so I decided to give a few more reasons.

“And I don’t give a shit about a massive corporate bank. I was just here to go to the bathroom– I don’t even have an account here.”

Maybe that was too many reasons, because just as her hesitance waned, it was back in full force. Shoving the barrel against my throat, she sneered, “I don’t believe you. You’re too comfortable with a gun in your face. You a cop, too?”

Cop?

I tilted my head to the side, baring more of my throat to her as I drawled, “Who’s a cop?”

For once, I was glad that Spencer had made such a point of reassuring me that he was not ‘a cop,’ because otherwise I’m certain the terror would have been obvious in my eyes. But for now, I could trust the numb apathy that was washing over me.

Please don’t be talking about Spencer. Please don’t know that. Good things never happened to law enforcement in situations like this. Hell, the two security guards had been dead in seconds.

“I think you know.” She was smiling, and I realized that this fucking psychopath was sharper than she wanted me to think.

“I don’t.” The words were said through clenched teeth, and I prayed that she would see them as insistent anger over the fear that lie beneath them, “And why would you kill me if I was helping you?”

She smiled, drawing the weapon up and down my throat until it landed lower at my chest. The movements were slow and light, a playful glint in her eyes when they met mine again.

“For fun.”

I didn’t move a muscle, my body remaining tense under her ministrations as I forced myself to hold my gaze steady. If she wanted fear, she wouldn’t get it from me.

“Then do it.”

The look she gave me told me she had seriously considered it, probably a little annoyed with my presence. But there was something else there, too, that same soft recognition that in another reality we might have been friends. I’m sure she saw herself in me a little bit; or at least somebody useful.

This confirmed my suspicion that I’d never really be able to read a psychopath. I didn’t understand how Spencer could do it every day. It’d only been a few minutes alone with her and I could feel myself losing the happy memories of the day.

Luckily, the man returned at the same time I saw a plan developing in her mind.

“Hey, come help me,” he called to her. Her response was surprisingly swift, the metal that was tracing over my collar bones disappearing without another word. He was holding a small bag of money, which seemed to seriously irritate the woman.

“Did you get that money from behind the counter?” I asked it before she had a chance. I wanted him to trust me. Or at least look at me more. It wasn’t that I wanted his attention as much as I knew I could distract him fairly easily.

He looked over at me, a dumbfounded look on his face. Men are so fucking stupid, I thought. The pissed off expression on his partner’s face told me that she agreed.

“It’s going to explode if you mess with it or it leaves the area. Probably with tear gas. If you’re escaping in a car, you’re not gonna want it.”

“Yeah, we know about dye packs, bitch.” She snapped, grabbing the bag of money and tossing it to the side of the door they intended to use.

I stared at the locks they hadn’t even bothered trying to touch. The same locks they apparently didn’t look up or know anything about when they came. Suddenly it hit me why this all felt so very off.

It was strange enough that no one was wearing a mask, and as far as I’d heard, no one was really trying to get out of this situation. I was certain that by this point there was a large crowd of armored men outside.

“Just trying to help,” I muttered as I started to scan the room, looking for telltale signs of tampering. The anxious whispering of the man distracted me just long enough to get more information.

“Won’t that set off some shit? Chain reaction shit?”

“Shut the fuck up,” the woman responded with a swift elbow to his gut as she started to walk away, “you are an absolute moron.”

As soon as she was out of earshot, I heard the faint curses that fell from his lips. As he picked up the bag just to toss it away again, I noticed the presence of odd packages in the corner of the room. He really did not want exploding dye packs near those boxes, which seemed remarkably out of place.

“Why does she think she’s in charge?” I asked, finally ripping my eyes away from the objects that now seemed glaringly obvious. “You two guys outnumber her.”

“You’ve got quite the mouth on you.”

Relaxing my body as much as I could, I shifted back and forth on my knees, rubbing the tired muscles of my thighs. “I may have been told that once or twice.”

He actually chuckled; his eyes drawn to my legs like the absolute moron he so obviously was. She definitely had gotten that one right. The other women in the room were watching me, but I tried not to pay them any mind.

I didn’t know when or why they decided to let me do whatever I wanted, but I appreciated their apparent comfort in letting me try to kill myself. He made his way over to the boxes, each a specific size and shape. He carried them so carefully.

“I figure there’s no point in being scared if I’m going to die anyway.” I finally said. Shocked gasps and whispers filled the room, but I didn’t divert my attention to them– No matter how much I wanted to tell them to shut the fuck up.

They would distract me from the way his mouth curled into a smile when he closed the gap between us, his hand sliding down my head and over my shoulder to follow the braid Spencer had meticulously woven an hour before.

“How about you just shut up and sit pretty for me, sweetheart.” I tried not to let the disgust show as his hand slid behind my neck, holding my head so that I had to look up at him. “You seem like you’d be real good at that.”

Ha! If only Spencer could hear him say that. But I could play the good girl for just long enough.

“Do you need help?” I asked with a tiny shrug, “I might be little but I’m pretty strong.” Strong enough to break your fucking hand if you don’t get it off of me.

“Nah.” He ordered, his hand on my neck getting tighter. “But I don’t doubt that you could be useful. You look real good on your knees.”

My heart was pounding so hard I thought it might be visible through my ribs. I just needed an excuse to move. If he could give me an excuse to move, I could do so many things.

“Please let me help,” I begged, raising my hand to his forearm against my shoulder. His eyes began to shift, moving just enough to tell me that he wanted to look to the hallway. He could hear her footsteps, too. She was coming back, and I only had a few seconds left.

Once both of my hands were on his arm, I got the feeling he knew something even worse was coming for him.

“I’d love a chance to get to show you how helpful I really am.”

—————————————————

Hotch had spent the past five minutes on the phone with the male unsub in the lobby, and the conversation was going absolutely nowhere. For whatever reason, they just seemed to deflect any opportunity provided to them.

They didn’t seem to give a shit about anything beyond pushing the buttons of each person they interacted with. Which, they did quite successfully.

“Didn’t realize one pig would bring the whole flock of you here,” he laughed, clearly motioning to Spencer on the video, “How bad do you want him back?”

“What do you want?” He responded without hesitation or a surprise. It was such an expected question to ask that he’d barely even thought about his words before they came out.

“Easy. A chopper, and for you to fuck off.”

That was the equally stereotypical response, meaning it was entirely unhelpful to them. From what they could deduce, they were equally confused as to why this heist seemed to follow all the rules, but match none of the motivations. It was like it was a show, a game, rather than an actual attempt to maximize profits.

“We can do the helicopter, but we can’t give you a pilot.”

“That’s fine,” he responded with a shrug, “Don’t need one.”

It was the first piece of useful information he’d gotten so far on the call. Because if they didn’t need a pilot, it meant one of two things: either one of them possessed the skill themselves, or they weren’t ever intending to use the helicopter.

Briefly pulling the phone away, Hotch turned to Morgan. “Tell Garcia to check our list with people with pilot’s licenses or any other connection that might provide them the skills to fly a helicopter.”

He returned to the call, continuing the usual script for these situations, trying not to act like he’d learned anything new.

“Can you release the women and children?”

“Nah,” the guy said with a chuckle, “I’ll wait.”

Hotch listened to the sound of the receiver for a moment, staring at the entrance to the bank like it would provide him the answers he still needed. He had his suspicions of what might be happening, but with no eyes in the back anymore and the trigger-happy group that had formed around him, he wouldn’t have the resources to convince them not to go in guns blazing.

“We’re ready to move in.” Which is exactly what they had requested.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” He stated before finally moving to look at the man next to him, “Something isn’t right here.”

“Yeah, a lot isn’t right here. There’s 19 innocent people in there.”

It didn’t really matter how many times he went through this situation; the results always seemed to be the same. No one listened, even when it wasn’t one of their men inside.

“Storming the building isn’t going to help them. There are three armed perpetrators inside, and they’re each in a different area. It would be impossible for us to take out all three at once. Especially now that we can’t see in the back. There could be explosives in there for all we know.”

The man was unpersuaded.

“If we can’t save them all, minimizing casualties is the name of the game.”

“Wait a few more minutes. I’m waiting to hear back from our analyst. If they have the capability of flying a plane, its highly likely they also have the knowledge and skills to create weapons that we aren’t currently prepared to handle.”

Although still unconvinced, the man grudgingly gave in to the request. Hotch closed his eyes, trying to be grateful for the extremely small victory; they’d gained a few more minutes. But the relief was short lived, with Morgan putting his phone aside for a second to mutter the same thing Hotch was thinking.

“Hotch, these people are way too confident. It’s like they know there’s a way out.”

As soon as he said the words, the two just looked at each other.

“Garcia, can you also check for any other way out of the bank?” He asked, walking back over to the table laid out under the nearby tent. This would have been a great time for Reid to be here, he thought as he stared at the ridiculously complicated schematics.

He understood they didn’t want people to be able to figure them out (so they couldn’t rob the bank), but this was just ridiculous. It looked ancient.

“Sure thing, but… Morgan, I think there’s something else you should see.” The nerves dancing in her voice told him that they were about to switch subjects. “You know how the guy disabled the camera feed in the back room. I was reviewing the footage we do have and it looks like… (y/n) told him to.”

“Why would she do that?” He asked, furrowing his brow as he glanced over to the ornate bank doors. Part of him wanted to joke that things would’ve been a lot simpler if he didn’t have to worry about Reid’s weird girlfriend, but it didn’t feel as funny when they were both in danger.

Maybe later, he thought hopefully, when they were all together again.

“I… don’t know why. But I did what you asked, and I went through her record and found a ton of sealed files on her and also her dad…”

Morgan’s attention was definitely piqued at that point, but he wasn’t entirely sure what to say. In the stunned silence, Penelope spoke again.

“Should… Should I unseal them?”

It was the same question he was debating in his head, and he honestly didn’t know. Although a long shot, he hoped that she could provide at least the bare minimum of context before they made that kind of decision.

“What kind of files are we talking about?”

“I can’t be sure until I unseal them b-but, I mean, they’re sealed for a reason and I’m talking scary sealed. Like, it might take me a minute sealed. Giving me the heebie-jeebies sealed.” She grew more frantic as she continued. Morgan knew they were running out of time.

“I get it.”

“Is Reid okay?” She switched gears, recognizing that Morgan’s hesitance meant it was probably a bad idea. She wasn’t going to push it unless he did. They didn’t even know if she could help even if they unsealed the files. Especially without a visual.

“They know he’s with us,” Morgan sadly admitted, “I don’t know what’s going on. Did you find another way out of the bank?”

“Right.” The conversation was going to give everyone involved whiplash at this point. “Yes! There is an access way through tunnels underneath the bank but it would take a massive distraction for all three of them to be able to get out of there without us meeting them on the other side. I’m talking earth shatterin–.”

She didn’t finish the sentence, her tongue halting the second her mind caught up with her voice. Morgan was equally concerned, recognizing the kind of distraction that this might require and the perfect way to escape with maximum damage.

But that wasn’t what got his attention. There was no fiery explosion or shouted epiphany, because at that same time there were the muffled sounds of gunshots coming from inside.

“Oh my god, what was that?!” Garcia yelled, accompanied by frantic clicking as she filtered through each individual camera to try and locate the source of the noise.

“Garcia, do you have eyes on the main room?”

“Yes! But it wasn’t in the main room, Derek, it was in the back!”

It was a difficult and necessary job, to consider what those sounds might mean for the young girl they’d met only a few weeks earlier. Morgan’s thoughts went even further, not only worried about her safety, but his best friend’s sanity. Lord knows Reid didn’t need another thing weighing on his conscience. Especially not about her; it just might destroy him.

“What does the unsub in the main area look like? Does he look confused? Surprised?” The words were coming, but he didn’t know where from. His body was on autopilot, desperately seeking any validation that they could still save everyone.

“I-I don’t know! He looks grainy! The image is like an inch wide!” She was clearly growing frustrated, which was a feeling they all shared at this point. “This camera is from before I was even born!”

“Try, Penelope,” Morgan pleaded, “Give me something.”

But the other men weren’t willing to wait.

“That’s it. We’re moving in.”

Morgan turned to them, his hand clutching tighter to the phone just in time for her to speak.

“He’s calling for them but they’re not coming out. He looks… Oh no. He’s yelling at Reid now. And... And it looks like someone is coming down the hallway? But he’s not looking–”

It was impossible to focus on everything that was happening, heavy boots and massive commotion as people began to take their positions. But if someone was coming down the hallway, and the unsub didn’t know, that could only mean a few things. Either he was about to be proven disposable, or someone else had fired those shots.

Either way, one thing was clear.

“Wait! We can’t go in there yet!”

—————————————————

There was a point in time where I might have questioned whether I would ever get used to a gun in my face. There was also a point where I actually had gotten used to it. But nothing could have prepared me for this moment, this terrifying realization while staring down the barrel of an assault rifle that I didn’t want to die yet.

I used to think that my life was somewhat disposable. Sure, I was helpful and useful for my job, but ultimately, I considered myself replaceable. The next person to come might not have the same credentials, but they probably wouldn’t also have half the flaws I do.

But now I wasn’t thinking of work. I wasn’t thinking about how replaceable I was, because it wasn’t my life that mattered.

I didn’t want to die yet, because I wanted to see her again.

So I just stared at the weapon, trying to remember that it was still a great possibility that I could. I tried not to think about what was in front of me, choosing to use most of my brainpower to picture what it would feel like when I had her in my arms again.

The vision inside my head ended swiftly, with the sound of rapidly fired weaponry coming from down the hall. Through the commotion of screaming, I surmised that at least two guns had been fired.

Silence followed. It was a stifling, exhausting, painful silence.

What broke it was even worse, with the gun in my face smacking into the side of my head as the man holding it lost his grip at the sound.

“What the fuck was that?!”

He looked at me like he expected me to have the answers, but I didn’t.

“I don’t know. I-I don’t—“ Not only did I not understand why two guns would fire, I didn’t know who had shot them or for what reason. There was one thing I did know. “It sounded like your weapons.”

“Hey, what’s going on back there?!” He shouted, twisting his body just enough to see around the corner.

There was no reply.

“Did your people get in here somehow?” The panic was obvious, and I didn’t know how to calm him down without arousing suspicion. He was continuing to devolve, stepping closer to me as he stuck with his original thought, “How the fuck could they have done that, huh?”

“I don’t know.”

“Is there anything you do know?”

It was a question I’d been asking myself. The longer the silence continued in the back, the more rapidly my anxiety rose. There are only a few reasons why we wouldn’t hear more screaming.

Either someone had managed to get remarkable control over the situation, or all of the hostages were dead. Including (y/n). I forced myself to consider the far less likely, but still possible third option: She was dying, and I could still help her.

“I know that there is still a way for you to get out of this.” I barely recognized my own voice as I rambled, “Is it possible your partners… Is it possible they were planning on leaving together?”

“What?” He sounded disgusted and exhausted, but simultaneously insecure. It didn’t take much effort to realize that he was the weakest of the crew. I’d already had my suspicions that whatever the next step in this journey was, he wasn’t going to be making it with them regardless.

“It was their decision to leave you out here, right? In the place with the most windows and the first access to the door? They put you with all the people most likely to fight back. And now it sounds like…”

I paused, my lips unable to make the next words without a deep breath. “It sounds like they killed the people in the back as a diversion to send in SWAT. Does that sound like something they would do?”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

That was enough confirmation for me. It was definitely something they would do, and he knew it. He probably suspected it himself. Thankfully, it gave me enough courage to push back for the first time in this encounter. “Then go back there and see if they’re still there.”

“And just let you be hero and save all these guys? No chance.”

I wanted to laugh; if only he knew the real reason I wanted him to go back there. As terrible as it was, I didn’t care at all about the rest of these men right now. As far as I knew, they were relatively safe. In fact, they were in a better position if what I’d deduced was true. This man, while violent, wasn’t the kind to murder everyone in sight, even when cornered. He’d more likely be shot by SWAT.

“I’ll come with you.” It was a plea, a desperate attempt to get more information that I both wanted and feared. He watched me carefully, trying to read the terror on my face to determine where exactly it was coming from. He knew the hostages were useless to him if he had me, so I wasn’t particularly scared for my life.

At least, not just yet.

“Fine. Get up.”

I willed my legs to stop shaking; to just carry me far enough that I could see her face. I just needed to know that she was okay.

But then I felt a fine mist over my skin— it almost felt like the noise happened after, but I knew logically that couldn’t be true.

A gun fires before the bullets hit their target.

Time seemed to move slower as his body fell to the ground in front of me. My eyes followed him to the floor, but only until I saw the person holding the gun through my peripherals.

“...(y/n)?”

And there she was, clutching tightly onto a rifle, her body barely upright as she staggered forward. There was something remarkably off-putting about the sight of her holding on for dear life to something so morbid. A jarring contrast I would not soon be able to forget, if I ever could.

There was something even more unsettling about the ease with which she carried the weapon, and the fact that she had managed to fire something that powerful without a single stray bullet.

“They’re dead!” She boomed across the room, dropping the weapon onto the floor before she yelled again, “Everyone get out! Hurry!”

No one moved. All of the men, myself included, stared at the tiny girl who’d just saved all of our lives.

“Get out now! There’s a bomb in the back!”

Those were the magic words to stir a panicked crowd into action, people stampeding to the single double door at the entrance, but my eyes were fixed on her. She staggered forward, her arm around her waist and her eyes beginning to roll back.

Perhaps I was just clueless, my one-track mind too slow to navigate the scene in front of me, but it took me that long to see it. My brain rioted against the visuals it took in, the dark crimson dripping down her body. It looked like it would swallow her whole.

I tried to will my body to move, to run to her and do something, anything to help her. But I couldn’t, frozen in place as her small steps got weaker. It wasn’t until I saw her begin to sway that I lunged forward just in time to catch her before she hit the ground.

“Wait!” I screamed to anyone who would listen, my eyes frantically trying to meet someone in the crowd, “Someone get a medic!”

The woman with a child was the last one to pass. She stopped among the commotion, looking down at the carnage in my lap before bolting towards the door.

I had to trust that she would care enough to do something, because from that point on my attention wouldn’t be leaving (y/n). Her eyes were glassy, staring off into the distance and wandering aimlessly despite my face being in view.

“Hey, hey little girl.” My voice crackled as I held her cheek, “Hey, look at me.”

She was finally able to meet my gaze, her eyes filling with love with a small, delirious smile gracing her lips.

“Hey old man.”

The grin didn’t last long, the sounds of her choking and coughing replacing it as blood filled her mouth. I tried to turn her enough that she could spit it out, but it was obvious she was struggling to get any air at all.

“We’re gonna get you some help, okay?” I said with a false confidence, the twisted curve of my lips not even barely resembling a smile.

“It hurts,” she sobbed, her hands slipping in the blood on her stomach.

“I know.”

There wasn’t anything I could do; all I could do was sit there and stare, trying to decide where my hands should be. She was applying pressure to her wound on the front, but I could see the wreckage that was once her back. My hands wouldn’t be enough.

“I’m sleepy.”

“I know.” I was trembling, tears dripping from my face and mixing with the bloody mess; they still couldn’t dilute it, somehow make it vanish. “I know you’re tired. But you’ve gotta stay awake, okay?”

“Okay, I’ll try.”

At first, I wanted to say the innocence in her voice was surprising, but it wasn’t. She was innocent. She was just a young girl, trying to live a happy, normal life before she met me.

“You’re doing great.” I tried to convince myself this wasn’t my fault, but it didn’t work. She had said it herself — she wouldn’t have ever come to a bank on her own. The statistics of the rarity of this situation kept playing on a loop in the back of my head, but it was just a low hum beneath the sound of her pained whimpers.

“Spencer, I need to tell you something.” The newfound insistence in her voice twisted in my gut, and my hands held tighter to her arm.

“No, don’t,” I begged, already anticipating what was going to happen. “Please, don’t do this.”

“I have to tell you right now.” And then her voice was calm, a smile on her face as her blood-soaked hand left her stomach, trying to raise to touch me. It didn’t make it.

“No, you can tell me later.”

The words were so slurred and pathetic, I’m surprised she understood them. But she did, taking a deep, whistling breath. It was clear it hurt her to speak, and I wanted to tell her to be quiet, but the masochist in me needed to hear the words all the same.

“Spencer, please. Just listen to me.”

This sounded too much like a goodbye.

“I love you.”

Our bodies rocked as I realized I hadn’t taken a breath of my own in too long, the pain in my oxygen deprived lungs not nearly enough to distract me from the genuine softness of her voice.

“I love you so much,” she whispered, “Do you know that?”

I don’t know how she wasn’t crying, her eyes barely open but too tired to blink. That rosy complexion had faded, her skin blanching the longer she lay in my arms.

“Yes, I know.”

“I love you with my whole heart.”

My mind was flashing images from only a couple hours prior, her warm laugh as she laid on my lap, the way her hair slipped between my fingers while I wove it together.

‘You think you’ll still be around?’

‘If you’ll have me.’

The memories were blurring together, creating a symphony of promises that were about to be shattered in front of my eyes.

‘Forever,’ she’d said. ‘Forever.’

‘A white picket fence. Two little bratty genius babies. Just a normal, domestic life with Dr. and Mrs. Reid.’

Rejecting the thought, I shook my head, “You’re going to be fine.”

“I understand what you meant when…” Her voice was too quiet, too distant, to be this warm. “When you said it was nice to be able to say it.”

The heavy footfalls and sound of a transport bed wheeling across the floor alerted me that I would have to let her go soon. Whether this would be the last time I ever held her, I couldn’t be sure.

“They’re gonna come take you now, but I’ll be right behind them. I promise.” I barely got the words out before their hands were all over her, those tired eyes shooting wide open as unfamiliar hands replaced mine.

“Wait, Spencer!” She cried out, her body too limp to make a meaningful attempt to stop them, “Don’t leave me!”

Her screams and sobs were ringing louder than the gunshots had, my body slowly making its way upright as I watched them place her on the bed.

“I’m not leaving you, I promise.” I tried not to let the panic bleed through, raising the volume as she started to be taken away from me, “Stay awake as long as you can.”

I couldn’t see her, but I could hear her attempts to scream. If she was calling my name, it wasn’t recognizable. I’m not sure which hurt worse— the sound of her tired lips butchering my name, or the silence that followed.

She wasn’t able to scream anymore.

When I emerged from the bank, the sun burned my eyes just as much as the sight of my team shocked to see me covered in blood. But I couldn’t focus on them at all, immediately bolting after the paramedics without another thought.

The extra time it took them to carefully load her allowed me to jump into the back of the vehicle before the doors shut. There were no words to describe this situation, nor make it any better.

So I just stared in horrified fascination, trying to gauge her odds as they rapidly changed in front of me. Of 107,141 firearm injuries last year, 31% died. How many of the 69% had assault rifle wounds? I couldn’t remember any other statistics. My brain had turned itself off, focusing only on the frantic beeping and scrambled voices.

“Where is he?” Her tiny voice cut through both the internal and external noise.

“I’m right here.” I nearly shouted from my precarious position standing in the back of the rattling ambulance. I wanted to move closer, but I was too scared. There were so many hands on her, and I didn’t want to get in the way.

“I’m scared.” She said, mirroring my exact thoughts.

“I’m right here.” I repeated, closing my eyes to hide from the carnage long enough to put words together that might make her feel any ounce of comfort, “You’re doing so well. I’m so proud of you.”

Taking an experimental step forward once the paramedics seemed settled in their places, I came to stand behind her. My hands were tinted red and trembled as they reached out to touch her cheeks.

She took a sharp inhale at the sensation, just barely holding her head up straight. I couldn’t tell if she was leaning into my touch or just couldn’t control her neck any longer. Her skin felt like ice, and although she was still beautiful, the blue tint creeping over her face struck fear in my heart.

“How much longer until we get to the hospital? Her body temperature is dropping.”

If she heard me, she didn’t respond. I stared at the paramedic who was obviously more concerned with other things at the moment. They were kind enough to give me a response, even if it wasn’t a satisfying one.

“Just a few more minutes. We can’t do anything until we stop the bleeding, sir.”

“Spencer…” Each time she spoke was simultaneously terrifying and comforting. It was confirmation she was alive, but also troublesome, because I knew that she should be reserving her efforts for staying alive.

“Hang in there, little girl. We’re almost there.”

She opened her eyes, staring up at me with clouded vision. I could see the pain so clearly it might as well have been me on the table.

“Please help me,” she sobbed, “help me.”

“I-I can’t.” They were the two hardest words I’d ever had to say. Frustration mounted in me, but none of it was directed at her. She didn’t do anything wrong. Myself, on the other hand, I hated myself in that moment.

She was begging for me to help her, and I couldn’t. I couldn’t do anything but stand here and watch as she bled out in the back of an ambulance, a stranger’s hands practically inside of her stomach.

“I don’t want to die.”

The way her voice cracked took whatever was left of my sanity with it, and I felt my fingertips slip in the blood as I pressed against her face.

“You won’t,” I tried to assure her, “You’re going to be fine. Just stay awake.”

“I can’t.” The usual spunk in her voice had faded, leaving behind the sound of a twenty year old girl with no fight left in her. “I’m so sorry, Spencer…”

‘Sorry?’ I thought below the horror, ‘for what?’

When her eyes shut, they couldn’t even make it all the way. It was an expression I’d seen before on the field. I wasn’t meant to see it on her.

“No. No, no, wake up.” I urged, patting her cheeks softly before closing my hands around them more tightly, “Wake up, little girl, please.”

I was talking to no one, because I don’t think she could hear me anymore. Absolutely nothing in her body changed, even as the paramedics became more rushed.

“I’ve located the bleed!” The woman beside me yelled as the ambulance began to rapidly slow down. “I’m sorry sir, but we need you to move.”

“Whatever you need. Please, just help her.” I’d said the words, but my actions didn’t follow. She stared down at my hands that were still tethered to (y/n)’s face, trying to provide the warmth that she desperately needed.

Somehow, I was able to wrench them away, only then realizing the bloody handprints I’d left behind. Her face still wasn’t moving.

“Please, I—“

Before I could say another word, they were already out of the ambulance. I followed as closely as I could behind them, trying to focus enough to ensure that every word said could be played again in my mind. Because the second she crossed the threshold into the surgery suite, I wouldn’t be able to hear them anymore.

I would have to wait. I would have to wait for her to be better, or wait for a declaration. And in that vast silence, I knew I wouldn’t be able to stop from torturing myself with every single word uttered in this building before the doors closed.

The doors were ahead of us now, and I wished time could slow down enough that I could give her one more kiss and tell her to be strong one more time before she went into the Schrodinger’s Box that was the emergency room operating table.

I wanted to tell her that I loved her, and when the thought crossed my mind, I realized that I’d never said it back. She’d said it three times, but in my adamant denial I’d failed to return it.

It was so much like us, I’d almost laughed. She’d made such a point of worrying about me leaving her, neither of us had ever stopped to think about how I’d live without her.

How would I live without her? The only person I trusted to have an answer was wheeled into the room, the door shutting abruptly in front of me.

In the reflection of the metal door I saw myself, drenched in the dark liquid. I tried to clean my face with my hand only to realize that they, too, were dirty with her blood.

The world had fallen silent, and I let myself be crushed by the overwhelming loneliness of an existence without her.

‘Don’t miss me too much, Dr. Reid.’

It was too late.

—————————————————

| Part 15 |

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #Criminal Minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds self insert #spencer reid angst #criminal minds angst #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid series #reid series #dr spencer reid #h2m #spence reid #spencer reid request #reid request

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luninosity · 4 years ago

Text

Okay, so, some Falcon and the Winter Soldier thoughts (will have some spoilers) for episodes two and three. General non-spoilery comment first: I feel like these were both *okay* episodes - neither as good as the first, but I didn’t dislike them, either. I’m still really curious to see how we’re going to wrap this all up in three more episodes; it doesn’t feel like we’re halfway done yet!

Okay, more spoiler-y notes below the Read More, not in any real order, just as I think and type. I’ll probably forget some things, but for now, here’re some thoughts...

--I like ep 3 slightly more than ep 2, mostly because of Zemo!

--I actually really love Zemo here (I liked him in Civil War, too): complex, sardonic, enjoying poking at people, a villain we do feel sympathy for even as he’s still sharp enough to remind us that he is a villain. Daniel Bruhl has always done a fantastic job flipping between calculated cruelty, wry humor - the whole “I am a Baron” moment was great - and pain that for him is still raw, about the loss of his family. (Some things’re awfully cliche - look, the supervillain’s playing chess and reading Machiavelli in his cell? really? - but, y’know...sure. Why not. We expect some cliches in the superhero genre, and this is an inoffensive one.)

--also Zemo dancing. That’s it. That’s everything.

--moving on from that: I’m also really liking how they’re writing John Walker. He does have charm, and there’s a certain amount of sympathy - especially as we see him worrying about filling the Captain America shoes, in ep 2 - but we’re also getting this really subtle sense of wrongness about him. He’s clearly vindictive and angry when things (and people) don’t act according to his mental script for them, and he’s willing to use his name and power to do things like get Bucky released...which in context and given our sympathies for Bucky is a good thing, but...it’s also an indicator of his willingness to do what he wants, because he can. (To be fair, Steve Rogers also often did that! - but Steve earned our trust, both in narrative and character. From his first introduction to WWII leadership experience to all the Avengers stuff, Steve consistently acts to protect people, and he’ll also listen if someone else has a good idea or if someone needs to talk, like with Wanda.) So I’m really liking this slow-fuse character development.

--mixed feelings about Sharon. I love that the show’s acknowledging how much she sacrificed for our main heroes, with no reward. On the other hand, she also clearly knew the consequences that could happen; she said as much at the time. The level of bitterness seems like a lot. But I’m also interested in everything we still don’t know about her - if she’s not the Power Broker herself, she’s obviously Up To Something. So that should be fun.

--hey, look at that X-Men location, with Majipoor! Also a nod to Wolverine’s favorite bar there, I think?

--I love heist and disguise plots!

--I also really like Bucky’s having to revert to the Winter Soldier - Sebastian Stan does it so brilliantly, with so many layers of emotion: not wanting to, loathing it, recognizing the necessity, shutting off all emotion and just coldly doing it, hurting but covering it up...just fantastic, and you know I love some hurt/comfort, and this seems like such a great set-up for emotional hurt

--but! this also seems like...a weird plot hole, kind of? Bucky’s pretty famous at this point, right? I imagine the criminal underworld knows he’s been pardoned and deprogrammed, right? or do they assume Zemo, with his knowledge of Hydra, still has some special control over him?

--along the same “this seems like someone didn’t think this through” path, Sam, you’re a professional, turn off your phone on a mission. Oh my god. Face-palmingly stupid - and I think somewhat lazy writing, as the writers plainly needed a giveaway, and went for the first idea they had. Even if it made a main character look incompetent.

--the Flag Smashers and Karli are...fine. They feel very Generic Marvel Villain - not the big space alien type, but the other type, the “I have a personal loss and motivating pain so I’m a little sympathetic but also Clearly Evil, watch me kill civilians so the audience won’t ever find me TOO sympathetic” type. Meh. Fine. Zemo’s more interesting, but...fine.

--Anthony Mackie is such a fantastic actor - every bit of his reaction to the Isaiah Bradley reveal is so good. The anger, pain, frustration, ferocity...heartbreaking. Actually that whole scene is so good - his emotions at discovering this secret history are palpable, and it’s so painful, because we also understand why Bucky would keep the secret - as someone who knows about pain and trauma and being experimented on, and knowing Isaiah wants to be left alone - we feel really deeply for both characters here, and it’s great.

--I actually liked the abrupt swing from the Isaiah Bradley encounter to the casual everyday racism of the cops on the street - is it subtle, no. But it’s not meant to be: it’s meant to be standing up and shouting about how not that much has really changed, and about how pervasive racism is. I know some reviews were all, “this was just too much!” or “too forced!” but...look, it needs to be shouted sometimes for people to hear.

--Bucky’s notebook being Steve’s, oh, ouch, my feelings. If I had the time and energy to write fic...

--(also, if I had the time and energy to write dark!fic: where’re my fics in which Zemo’s implication about the Winter Soldier “doing anything you want” gets played with? what or who does Bucky have to do to keep the undercover charade going? so many Bad Wrong Kinky power dynamics and explorations of consent and what this would do to Bucky’s head, here, and honestly I’d totally read them all, just saying.)

--Sam and Bucky together...I don’t know. This is one of the elements that I’m not actually a huge fan of, but I think it’s partly a personal genre / sense of humor thing that’s not clicking for me, personally, again. Like...

--I don’t find people shouting aggrievedly at each other to be funny? I’m not sure why it is.

--I mean, I get that they’re doing, like, eighties buddy cop movies, but...it got old really fast then, and it’s not something we needed to bring back. It’s not clever, and it’s...well, shouty and annoying.

--(I say this as someone who genuinely likes the first two Lethal Weapon movies...but the significant difference is, I think, we’re also shown in both those movies that Riggs and Murtaugh care about each other. They don’t want to be partners initially, and they don’t get along initially, and they do argue over tactics**...but they immediately feel responsible for each other and act to protect each other even as they argue, because it’s the right thing to do and we’re shown moments of them awkwardly trying to connect, because they both have that deep sense of...protectiveness...that makes them Good People - like, if they learn something that the other person needs to know, they tell each other. They protect each other’s families / love interests. So by the end of the second movie, with that fabulous character death fake-out, Murtaugh’s initial shock and grief is real and powerful and painful, and so is his genuine relief when the worst isn’t true - and it’s all earned.) (**however, they tend to argue tactics *before* jumping in - “is it 1, 2, 3, go on 3? or 3, then go?” And then once that’s established, they go ahead. That makes a difference as far as...well...competence and teamwork!)

--(Sam and Bucky, as far as I can tell, don’t do the above, and just...maybe shouldn’t be working together?)

--I also don’t find grown men acting like my youngest nephew, when he’s having a temper tantrum, to be funny. Staring contests? Random insults? Sulking in silence? Oh, grow up.

--(Also, yes, writers, we see you with the “couples therapy” and “get closer and make your legs touch” and “landing on top of each other as they hit the ground” moments. I, at least, personally, am very tired of...I don’t know that I’d call it queerbaiting exactly, but this idea that we’re supposed to find these moments funny...because why? Because, ooh, they’re two men getting close to each other, physically or emotionally? Why is this a thing we need to draw attention to? Do you think you’re doing some sort of fan service? Please either make Sam/Bucky happen or stop doing this.)

--both Sam and Bucky are highly competent and professional agents, or they should be. They should know how to work in the field - even with people they may not like - and adapt to shifting strategy, make best use of available assets, include people in the plan, etc. I can’t help but compare this to something like, say, Leverage, which also has a team who mocks each other and makes jokes but clearly absolutely respects each other’s capabilities, has a plan going in and tells everyone what the plan is, and adapts (and trusts each other to adapt) on the fly as necessary, and does it all without random insults about someone’s (PTSD-related) staring and “robot brain”.

--one of the very specific moments that bothers me a lot is the ending of the therapy scene (yay for showing heroes in therapy! but also I’m pretty sure she’s...not a great therapist?). Bucky finally opens up and says something real, about his own self-doubt and wondering whether Steve was wrong about him....and Sam just...brushes it off and goes, “we’re done here,” basically. Not only does that feel wildly out of character for former counselor Sam, it feels cruel. I really deeply dislike that moment the more I think about it. Makes me want to scream.

--Sam insults Bucky way more than the other way around. It’s starting to feel very one-sided (it’d be better if more clearly reciprocal, though it’s still not a dynamic that’s my favorite), and again, feels out of character - maybe this is Anthony Mackie’s sense of humor, but Sam isn’t Mackie, and Bucky isn’t Seb, and it reads as...a weird unbalanced power-trip thing to me. And also out of character for Sam, who can be sarcastic (”If you guys eat that sort of thing,” about breakfast, when Steve and Nat have randomly shown up at his door) but that’s not the same as just throwing unprovoked insults at a person who’s trying to recover from trauma, and a lot of those insults seem to center on things that were done to Bucky, that he had no choice in (the staring, the arm, etc), and that feels....it just feels mean, to me. Make fun of things he’s had a choice in / can do something about, if you have to - hair, clothes, liking “old people’s games” like gin rummy or pinochle, not knowing who Beyonce is, I don’t know, there are so many options that aren’t cruel! Do that instead. Let Bucky have a good comeback for once, too!

--the action scenes are action scenes. Also fine.

--Sam might be right about destroying the shield, and the show may even be (unintentionally?) setting that up as the best outcome, but that’s a problem for the future, Sam; get it back first. Also it’s a problem you caused by giving the shield up - did you really trust the government to leave it unused in a museum? You’re not that naive.

--overall, it’s...a perfectly fine show, so far, I think? Solid, and interesting, but not great. I think some of what doesn’t work for me is because it doesn’t work for me personally, as far as the shouty insult-heavy action “comedy” bits that I’m not enjoying, but I think they’re doing what they aimed for with it, so in that sense, I guess it’s working? There��s a lot of really cool stuff around the edges - John Walker, Isaiah Bradley, that Dora Milaje stinger, the bigger world of a history interwoven with racism and superpowers, the chillingly effective use of Bucky’s past - but I wish I liked the central Sam-Bucky relationship more. Individually they’re wonderful - they’ve both had such powerful scenes dealing with family, trauma, and consequences - but I feel like, in the effort to do the buddy comedy dynamic, the writing has just made me really sure that they actually genuinely don’t like each other? To such an extent that if they show any affection / caring / interest in each other in the last three episodes, it won’t be believable. (I mean Sam and Bucky, not Mackie and Seb. Mackie and Seb’re adorable.)

--I just want to think about Zemo dancing some more.

#the falcon and the winter soldier #tfatws spoilers #spoilers #fatws spoilers #thoughts

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anime-corner · 4 years ago

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Back Off! I Yaku M.

A/N: Okay so, really sorry if it took way longer than I intended. I wasn't sure if I liked the flow when I wrote it so, I kept changing it. Anyways anon, I hope it was worth the wait and also it was what you hoped for!! Again, sorry!!!

And if this isn't what you hoped for, I could always change it or make another one so don't hesitate to message me!!

It was only the first day at the Tokyo Training Camp and Yaku was starting to get pissed off by every little thing. Just as Karasuno arrived, Yamamoto was already on his knees as soon as he saw their managers, "The girls have multiplied…!!! Now there's a pretty one and a cute one!"

"Take a good look, Tora…" A bald player said, standing in front of the two females, "This is the sanctity of Karasuno."

"Kuh..! So bright..!"

"Yamamoto-san, coach is looking for you!" You said, walking over towards the mohawk headed player.

"That's right!" A squeak escaped your lips as Yamamoto pulled you close to him, arm around your shoulder, "We've got ourselves a female manager too!"

"Wahhh!! Beautiful! TANAKA RYUUNOSUKE, AT YOUR SERVICE!!!" He offered you his hand, taking it and shaking it gently.

"Oh, um… (l/n) (y/n), it's nice to meet you Tanaka-san." As you let go of his hand, he blushed madly, saying words you couldn't comprehend.

Yaku stared at your interaction with Karasuno's wing spiker, a scowl on his lips and arms crossed. He marched towards the two of you, a hand on Yamamoto’s collar and the other intertwined with yours, “Keep stalling and I’ll add a few things to your training. Everyone’s waiting inside already..!”

You stood besides Coach Nekomata, tuning everything out. You didn't quite understand what he was explaining anyways as you only have a little knowledge and experience regarding volleyball and being a manager, allowing you to grasp the basics. You had accepted the role after Kuroo pestered you about it non-stop and a go signal from your little boyfriend, not like you would say that to him face-to-face. You were after all, shorter than him.

Currently, you were tossing the ball for the players to spike with the Liberos on the receiving end. Lev jumped and hitted the ball, showing improvement unlike the first time you saw him, "Did you see that, (y/n)-san? That was great right?!"

"That was better than last time, Haiba-san. Keep at it and you'll become an ace in no time!" The first year hugged you tightly, not noticing the glare the third year libero sent his way.

"You Tin-headed Titan! Stop flirting with (y/n) and get back to practice!!" Yaku was now right beside you, pulling you away from the middle blocker's embrace.

"Oh Yaku-san, weren't you over there just now? How'd you get to this side so quickly?" Lev asked, looking down at his senior.

"What do you mean how?" You felt like you already knew the outcome but let them be as it was still entertaining to watch.

"I don't know. Maybe I just didn't notice since you were so short-- ack!" The light grey haired first year tumbled forward after getting kicked by Yaku from behind.

"Alright, alright, I think that's enough kicking exercises for you. We still need him in his very best condition." You patted him on the head, on your toes. You gave Yaku a smile and somehow, that reassured him a bit.

"I didn't even hit him that hard..!" He pouted before blushing when he heard you mutter the word 'cute'.

"I know. C'mon, let's continue practice."

• • •

Now back at Nekoma, you were hand-in-hand with Yaku, heading home. Though, you noticed that something was up. His hand clenched yours as he silently walked beside you and you were starting to get worried. It just wasn't like him.

"Yaku? Is something wrong?" You asked, glancing at him. He turned his head towards you, a smile on his lips. But you knew it was different.

"Yeah. Just tired, we did play a number of matches." He said, stretching a bit. Your hand now hung free as you rummaged your bag for an energy bar.

"Here. This should help you until you get home and cook up some real food before heading to bed. You need all the strength you need for training tomorrow," You said, handing him the convenience store bought food, "Also, don't stay up too late or sleep with your hair wet if you're planning on taking a bath."

"You're starting to sound just like me. But don't worry, I won't… Man, I don't even wanna know what I'd do without you nagging at me like this." Yaku teased, earning a soft hit on the head. Though, he acted as if it hurted more than it should.

"Hey! I'm just trying to make sure you take care of yourself too. You always seem to do that for the team so, you can't really complain," You reasoned, a blish covering your cheeks, "Besides, I really care about you, so much."

"Yeah, me too. Now, come one, it's getting pretty late, I don't even want to imagine the look Lev will give me once he gets there before me..!" He ruffled his hair in annoyance, "Worse if he picks on me again saying I was late because of my height."

"Don't be like that. Even if he does joke about it a lot, I'm sure his respect for you amounts just as much." You replied, rubbing circles on his hand.

"Thanks, (y/n). Now, I should really get you home. I could always stay at your place if your parents aren't home."

"Not a kid though, you worry too much!"

• • •

Time went by and before you knew it, the whole team was in Shinzen High. You didn't want to admit it but, you began to dread the week, not because it'd be another busy schedule for you and the other managers but because the attention you get from some of the other teams' members was enough to tire you out completely. Especially when Yaku knocks them down with a kick, making you apologize to both your and the other teams' coaches. To sum it up, an average of fifteen kicks per hour, including ones from Lev.

It was the fourth day and you have noticed the huge change in Yaku’s behavior. He was more serious during matches and he had chosen to ignore the guys who would walk up and interact with you, except for Lev of course. Even the managers noticed this and asked you about it. Nekoma was about to head back to court when Yaku called for you. You were both ecstatic and nervous at the same time. Ecstatic because it has been exactly two days since he last spoke to you and the latter was because you don’t know what your talk would be about.

“Y-Yaku, what… What is it?” You asked as soon as he was in front of you. His eyes refused to meet yours and you were starting to wonder what you did wrong.

“After this match… N-no, after the last match for today, wait for me at the hill behind the school.” You nod, letting him go back to his team.

Now all that’s left is to play the waiting game.

• • •

It was a clear night out, a bit cold as you clutched the jacket you brought closer to your body. Your ears managed to catch the soft scratching of feet against trimmed grass, turning around to see Yaku staring at you with a look you were unfamiliar with in his eyes. To him, at that moment where the wind blew your (h/l) (h/c) hair to the side and the moon highlighted your beauty, he knew he’d have to work hard and prove to you that you shouldn’t have any reason to let go. So should he.

“Sorry to make you wait…” He scratched the back of his head, nervousness starting to fill his body.

“It’s fine, I just arrived actually.” You replied when in reality, you have been waiting for ten minutes. You finished earlier than expected and without a clear meeting time, you decided it was for the best to wait for him and avoid a bunch of crazed idiots with equally crazy hormones. You returned to your previous position, eyes gazing up at the sky.

“So, what do you want to talk about?” You could feel Yaku slither his arms around your waist and place his head on your shoulder. You sucked in a breath before exhaling, missing the affection you two usually shared.

“I was thinking… Maybe you shouldn’t have been the team’s manager after all.” He confessed, making you turn your head. Your faces were close to one another, your lips centimeters away from his cheek.

“What? Why? Did I do something wrong? Did the coach say something?” You asked frantically, moving away from Yaku’s hold.

He tsked, clicking his tongue in annoyance, crossing his arms, “Well, if it wasn’t obvious, they were flirting with you and I hate it. Even Lev’s trying to take a shot at you when it’s already clear that you're already mine.”

“Aww, is Yaku getting jealous?” You teased, a small smile on your lips.

“So what if I am?! I just want them to leave you alone without me attacking them. Also, I’m worried that you’d choose one of them over me who’s always short-tempered and really insecure about his height. Hell, that libero from Karasuno’s shorter than me and he doesn’t give a damn!” He pulled his hair a bit, frustration written all over his face, “I can’t make them go away if you let them approach you like that. Even in this body, in this size, I want to protect you the same way I protect the ball from hitting our side. I’m saying this because I don’t to lose you and I--”

You blinked a couple of times before opening your mouth to speak, “You’re so cute, Yaku.”

“H-hey! I’m trying to voice out my feelings before I beat everyone up and this is your reply?!” His face boomed with color as he watched you laugh. He always did love the sound of your voice, whether it be a soft murmur or a loud cheer. You making him, or anyone, smile even in the most depressing occasion was always your forte.

“Sorry Yaku. I just can’t believe that I’ve been so lucky to be able to date such a talented, compassionate and intelligent guy like you. You trying your best to keep me from harms way just shows that you’re just as good as everyone else, better even. So what if you’re short, then let’s be short together! And even if one of us was way taller than the other, I’d still choose you. Besides, flirting will get them nowhere when I already have you!”

"Good. Because I'd choose you too. I love you (y/n)." Yaku said, eyes staring back at yours lovingly. Maybe he was just thinking too much, at least now he knows to never doubt your feelings for him.

"Love you too, Mo-ri-su-ke~" And then everything came to a standstill. Freezing up, his eyes were wide open and his mouth hung slightly. You giggled at the sight before stopping when you realized he was actually frozen on the spot, almost forgetting how to breathe, "E-eh? Yaku? Yaku?! Don't tell me that I broke you just by saying your name?!! Hey! Ahh..! What to do, what to do!! Maybe Kuroo knows something, I should--"

Before you could even take your second step forward, Yaku grabbed a hold of your wrist and pulled you close to him, engulfing you in a hug. His face was covered by the crook of your neck, mostly in an attempt to hide the embarrassed blush on his face, "A-and where do you think you're going?"

"Thank goodness you're okay." You sighed in relief, your left hand caressing the strands of his brown hair.

"Of course I am! Y-you just caught me off guard, that's all." He reasoned, voice muffled out.

"No way! Next time, I won't--" Cutting you off the second time, he retracted his head from its hiding place, facing you. The blush could still be seen and besides, the color suit him.

"Who told you to..? I just needed a little bit of getting used to hearing you say my name… Especially in public." Yaku said, the last three words in a whisper.

"Are you sure?" Placing your right hand on his cheek, he leaned in at your touch as you stroked it with your thumb.

"As long as it's my name you're calling and nobody else's. Don’t touch anyone because I’m here, because I’m beside you so, please.. Don't go anywhere. Promise me that you'll always stay by my side." He closed his eyes, hovering his left hand on yours. Such a simple gesture made your heart flutter ten times more than usual or perhaps you were falling for him more as days go by.

"I promise…" A smile lingered on your lips.

It was a comfortable silence, neither of you wanting to break it. Leaning in, you placed a kiss on his forehead, making him mirror the smile you wore.

"Oh, and please don't tell the others that I, uhh… crashed." He stepped back as you chuckled.

"Don't worry, I won't."

• • •

He wore a smile the next day, seeing you dismiss the guys who were flirting with you. The training camp had come to an end, the coaches preparing a barbecue for everyone. You and the girls sat together, laughing at each other's jokes. Some of the players blushed at the sight of your little group while the others, mainly Yamamoto and two from Karasuno's team roamed around, keeping anyone from looking at Shimizu.

You joined Yaku and a few of your team after a while, the libero wrapping an arm around your waist, "Oya? Is Yaku finally telling everyone to leave his little girlfriend be?"

"Shut up, Tetsurou. Unlike Morisuke, you couldn't get a girl to like you back! Plus, you really should try to fix your hair…" You pointed out, earning a few snickers from second years.

"That's pretty low, (y/n). And did you just call him by his first name? That's new. Made up or something?" Kuroo said, grinning widely, dismissing the topic about his hair.

"Huh? Oh yeah. Still trying to get used to it though." Yaku blushed, receiving a loud laugh from the captain.

"What's with the face, seriously? You'll ruin your reputation as a demon senpai if you keep that up!" The two bickered, not noticing a player coming up towards you.

"Hey! Nekoma's manager!!" Your group froze, turning towards the source of the voice, "We were wondering if we could get your number?"

Yaku had a scowl on his face, wanting to leap at the player right there and then, but calmed himself down, "I'm sorry but, I don’t like seeing my girlfriend giving her number to just any guy…"

"Girlfriend? So, you’re the..? Man, even though you’re pretty cool on court, you’re just a--" You hit the player on the stomach, making him curl forward.

"Yeah, he's really cool but, say something negative about him and I'll make sure you won't get to play on court for a few months." You threatened, both Kuroo and Yaku flashing a smirk towards the guy. He left after gaining composure from your attack as you returned to your place beside the libero.

"You're surprisingly brutal, (y/n)-chan." Kuroo let out another laugh, you followed with a giggle.

"Well, I learn only from the best!" You proudly said.

"You make it sound like that hurting people's good.." Yaku pouted, making you kiss his cheek. His eyes shot wide open, his mouth hanging and his face erupted to a color that would put Nekoma's volleyball uniform to shame. He wasn't clearly expecting you to kiss him in public, even if it was on the cheek.

"W-what was that for?!" He asked, with Kuroo still howling from behind you two.

"Hmm, no reason. Just felt like I should." You shrugged, Yaku sighed as he finally managed to bring back the original color to his face.

"God, I love you." He only shook his head, a chuckle leaving his lips.

"Love you too, Morisuke." You held his hand, clenching it tightly.

"By the way, nice hit though."

"Thanks babe!" Needless to say, you should really stop surprising the third year or else making him blush would become your next hobby.

In your arms, I feel safe as I fall asleep to the sound of your humming.

39 notes · View notes

dovechim · 5 years ago

Text

a remedy for mondays 01 (m)

➾ 11.2k

➾ summary: all you wanted was just one day off work. but for that to happen, you need to invent a plausible reason. and then somehow, somewhere along the way, things get out of hand, and now people think you’re having a baby with your co-worker Park Jimin after a one-night stand. confused? join the club.

➾ warnings: impregnation kink (all that jazz, u guys should know by now), brief mention of pregnancy termination, future smut

➾ a/n: this is written purely for fun & i hope you can understand my humour!!! please don’t go having babies just for some time off work. by the time i post this, it will be monday where i live. i hope this brings you all some joy :-)

ps: thank you to @jimlingss, who always hears my crazy ideas out and encourages me to go for them. heck, sometimes she even brings it out of me. idk where i would be without you :”D

You hate this.

The saying goes: work to live, not live to work. But at this rate, you’d rather just not exist at all if you have to continue work at this god.darn.fucking.job.

All around you, people are huddled into their seats, heads bowed below the partition that separates the desks. Frankly, you think this whole open-plan office thing is just bullshit. Who the fuck wants to make eye contact with Jeon Jeongguk when he’s picking his nose in the middle of editing a spreadsheet?

Not you, that’s who.

You sink even lower down in your seat as you continue to stare your screen with a pounding headache. The numerous open windows on your desktop are just mocking you at this point. The morning seems to be crawling by. Usually, you ration out your morning coffee and breakfast to keep you going; so your morning goes a little something like this: arrive 8.30am, check emails, get water from the pantry and fuck about while your bosses aren’t here yet till 9.15am. Reply to some emails till about 9.45am, then sit in a daze till it’s 10am and time for you to drink your morning espresso and nibble at the small bun you bought from the bakery nearby.

This usually gets you to about 11am, only an hour more to go till lunch.

A job in the public service is perceived to be prestigious by most; so you suppose you should be thankful for your job dealing with family policy. But what outsiders don’t realise is that working in a governmental organisation as the utmost bottom rung absolutely sucks. There are so many standard operation procedures for nearly every single fucking thing, even emails to senior management needs to be vetted by someone in a higher position than you. As a result, things get done very slowly and even if they do get through to senior management, it might just get rejected because they decide that it’s not good enough. Then the work comes all the way back to you, and the whole dreary process starts again.

Not to mention your asshole boss. Bae Joohyun. Senior Director. She has a notorious reputation throughout the entire department for being a hell witch from Satan’s posse. In her meetings she demands utter silence from everyone other than the presenter; sneezes and coughs or pen clicks and typing are strictly forbidden.

Technically, she isn’t your direct superior, and you don’t work super closely with her, but she has this mandate that all leave requests for the entire department have to be approved by her. You’ve submitted requests 5 times in the past year, none of which have gone through. As a result you haven’t taken a day off in a good three years since you started working here. You still remember that one time she rejected your medical leave and called you to her desk. You’d been nursing a terrible flu, your complexion washed out and almost falling off your feet. Looking in the mirror that morning had been a complete shock. You thought a zombie was staring back at you.

Bae Joohyun had narrowed her eyes at you. “What’s wrong with you that you need to take emergency medical leave, _____?”

“I-it’s this cold, ma’am,” your voice was nasal and stuck in your throat.

Bae Joohyun had rolled her eyes and motioned for you to speak up. “I can’t hear you, stop mumbling for heaven’s sake!”

“I have a cold, ma’am! Has been so for the past three days,” you sniffled and pressed a tissue to your nose.

“A cold?” Bae Joohyun raised an eyebrow sceptically. “You seem fine to me. You look the same as you usually do. Get back to work.”

Sometimes you feel like this company, in all its pro-family views, treats married employees with children better.

The resentment grows inside you as you tap on your keyboard harder and harder, earning you a timid glance from Jeon Jeongguk opposite you. But you ignore him, continuing to type out a reply to someone who somehow failed to read your previous email and continued to ask the exact same questions.

“______?”

You absolutely hate it when someone approaches you from the back in your blind spot and startles you like this. Forcing a smile on your face, you sit up straighter in your chair and turn around. It’s Taehyung from the Baby Bonus Team, and he’s holding a folder with a smile on his face.

“Morning, ______!” He chirps with a sunny expression, and you can barely muster enough energy to greet him back, let alone match his level of enthusiasm on a Monday morning. “Could I just trouble you to update this for me? It’s just our operations manual for the Baby Bonus Team that hasn’t been touched in like… ages. I just need the HR section updated. Is that ok?”

Before you can even reply, Taehyung places a folder on your desk and his email appears on your screen, and he’s off. It’s not a secret that Taehyung loves his job to pieces. He loves children, loves babies, and loves it that he’s doing his part to contribute to the nation’s falling birth rate.

Well, not likethat,since you’re pretty sure he doesn’t have a girlfriend.

But everyone else here seems to love children. Over lunch with your team, all they do is exchange pictures of their children, their friends’ children, or some random baby from Facebook and coo over how chubby and cute they are. You stopped going to lunch with them after Mingyu from Pre-Schools team showed everyone a picture of his niece in a soiled diaper.

Most of your older coworkers who are married with their own families have pictures of their children on their desks. You’re forced to stare at these pictures with the resentment bubbling up inside you as you listen to their latest rant about how your proposal is too skimpy, lacks real research, that email of yours is poorly worded, needs to be recalled etc; so can anyone really blame you when you’re unable to dredge up even the slightest bit of adoration for those grubby faced gremlins?

Clicking open Taehyung’s email and finding the document he attached, you scroll down to the section he mentioned. You realise that he was being modest when he said that it needed an update. The whole fucking section comprises of just a single sentence, and you’ll probably have to write it from scratch.

Sighing through your nose, you click open an internet browser and do a quick google search for the general HR benefits for expecting women and their partners. You also open up the intranet to take a look at your own company’s mandates, which seem to be quite a whole lot more substantial than the general ones (which is only natural since your organisation is so pro-family in its viewpoints). 16 weeks of paid maternity leave, for a start.

Good god. 16 whole weeks? That’s practically 4 months. That’s almost half a year!!!

Obviously you know that having a baby wrecks the mother’s body, and is a major life change; that’s why they need that much leave time. But right now the concept of not having to go to work for that amount of time is simply blowing your mind. Especially since it feels as if you’ve been working non-stop for as long as you can remember.

On top of the 16 weeks is increased medical leave that can be taken any time before the baby is born. Your company is incredibly sympathetic towards pregnant women, which is only natural considering the line of work that you do in family planning. In fact, you know of a few colleagues from the Baby Bonus Team who took almost a whole month of medical leave, spread out, before they had their babies.

Not to mention the actual baby bonus itself.

Curious, you click back to Taehyung’s document and scroll up to the section on Baby Bonus. You scan through and gather that it comprises of a cash gift of $8,000 to $10,000, on top of several other schemes such as a savings account with the amount matched by the government. The total amount of cash receivable just for having one child is listed at the bottom of the page.

You sit back in your chair with a sharp breath. You never realised it was this lucrative to have a baby. Imagine receiving free money from the government, and having all that paid time off. All you need to do is just pop out one (1) baby, and that’s it. You can suck the government dry if you devote the rest of your life to being a baby making machine. See what Bae Joohyun has to say when you slam your maternity leave application on her desk.

The thought makes you smirk triumphantly.

But a moment later, the triumph fades as you remember your very, very single self. Without a boyfriend to knock you up, there’s no way this scheme would work.

Sighing, you shake your head to get rid of all the useless fantasies as you get back to work.

“Hey, _____. Meet our new joiner,” Jeongguk’s voice stirs you from the zoned out state you’re in, frantically typing away.

It’s well after lunch now; somehow the time had flown past while you were working on Taehyung’s document.

You look up to meet Jeongguk’s eyes, and then your gaze shifts to the slightly shorter man beside him. He is wearing a large pair of black glasses that cover nearly half his face; his blonde hair is parted down the middle and neatly slicked back. This man can’t even meet your eyes; he gives you a nervous little smile but his gaze is off, fixed somewhere on your shoulder. His white dress shirt is tucked in neatly to his black dress pants, but he is constantly fidgeting.

“Park Jimin. Welcome to the team, buddy,” Jeongguk slaps Jimin on the shoulder with a grin. “You’re sitting beside me.”

“Welcome, nice to meet you,” you smile and nod at him, but otherwise remain seated. No one can or will distract you from this document. You need to finish this by today, or else you’ll have to bring it home to work on it.

Park Jimin nods shyly as Jeongguk shows him to his seat. With this current arrangement, it means that the three of you are all facing each other in this cluster of desks. Sighing internally, you watch Jimin take his seat and arrange his things, see him glance shyly at you from behind his enormous glasses before his eyes dart away and he hides behind his desktop.

What a weird guy. He hasn’t said a single thing. Whatever. You turn back and resume typing, but then your phone chimes with an email notification.

CONGRATULATIONS!!! YOU HAVE WON MEET AND GREET PASSES TO MEET agust d TOMORROW!!!

Your heart skips a beat and you abandon typing just to open the email. You bid for these meet and greet passes months ago when you bought tickets to see your favourite rapper in concert. No news had resulted in you concluding that you hadn’t won after all, and you were contented with the chance just to see agust d in real life.

But now…

You scroll down to look at the details of the meet and greet.

24 September 2019, from 4pm (please see your specific timeslot on your attached passes)

Each meet and greet session comprises of: an up close, INTIMATE, one on one opportunity to chat and take photos with agust d, lasting for 15 minutes

Your heart sinks as you check the time on your pass. You end work only at 6pm, and when you’d bought the tickets you thought it’d be fine for you to go straight after work since the concert only starts at 7pm. There’s no way you’ll be able to take half day leave to attend the meet and greet. There’s no way Bae Joohyun would let you.

Sitting back in your seat in despair, feeling the angry tears well up in your eyes and the frustration cloud your chest, you don’t notice a pair of meek eyes behind black glasses peek out behind the desktop.

All that’s going through your head is: there has to be a way, there has to be a way.

There’s no way you’re letting these passes go to waste just like that. There’s no way you’re not meeting agust d just because Bae Joohyun has a stick up her ass.

Tuesday morning finds you at Bae Joohyun’s desk with a leave application filled out. You carefully set it on her desk, knowing full well that she comes in at 9.30am on the dot every day.

Rumour has it that she colour codes her outfits based on her mood that day. As you slink back to your desk, you catch a glance of her clad fully in black, striding powerfully into the office in her black pumps.

Your heart sinks as Jeongguk sings out a cheerful good morning to you and Park Jimin, whom you hadn’t even noticed was already at his desk.

“Morning, Jeongguk,” you mutter under your breath. “Morning to you too, Jimin.”

The newcomer does nothing more than nod at you as he ducks back behind his computer. But today you don’t have the bandwidth to wonder about him as you click over to Taehyung’s email about the document from yesterday.

“Hey, aren’t you going to see agust d tonight?” Jeongguk sits up straighter.

“Yeah, why?” Your reply comes clipped, already in a bad mood just from anticipating your rejected leave application.

“I heard the results of the balloting for the meet and greet passes came out yesterday,” Jeongguk’s bright eyes are on your face. “Do you know agust d, Jimin?”

The blonde haired man shrugs as part of his face appears from behind his computer.

“Anyway, I think only like five people got the passes, and as of yesterday night, there are already bidders on the black market willing to pay almost a thousand just for one pass,” Jeongguk continues on.

“Huh, really? Who’d be that crazy to pay that much money?” You muse, looking at your phone.

“Right?” Jeongguk sighs dramatically. You know he’d be extra salty if you told him you won passes to the meet and greet. You’d already made the mistake of letting slip that you managed to get a VIP ticket, and Jeongguk had sulked for an entire week after that. “I mean, what are the chances anyway? If you think about it, those people who won the passes must be die-hard fans, since you can only win one if you managed to get a VIP ticket. Which die-hard fan would sell their hard won passes like that?”

The conversation tapers off as you reply to some emails, but you can’t help but glance back at your phone. A thousand dollars just for a meet and greet pass. That’s just crazy. The amount of money some people are willing to spend… it almost makes you wonder if you could… sell it since you can’t make it anyway…

No. No. You can’t sell agust d’s love just for a thousand dollars. You wouldn’t even sell it for a million dollars. Shame on you.

Hushed whispers suddenly erupt around you, and Jeongguk hisses like a startled cat.

“Shit, SD’s coming! Fuck, I was in the middle of a game,” Jeongguk scrambles to turn off his phone, muttering under his breath that his teammates are going to kick him off the team next time.

You sit straighter in your seat and turn your head towards the aisle. Sure enough, Bae Joohyun is fast approaching like a hurricane bent on destruction. Her face is as black as her outfit.

“Jimin, since you’re new, just copy what I do. Look at your computer and don’t speak unless spoken to,” Jeongguk’s eyes are wide with fear, but he is frantically typing away on his keyboard, turning to glance at the timid man beside him. “Got it? Don’t show any fear, she can scent it like a shark with blood in the water. No matter what you do, don’t make eye contact with her if she isn’t talking to you.”

When Jimin doesn’t respond, Jeongguk glances hurriedly to the younger man. “Did you hear me?!”

“Y-yes.” It’s the first word you’ve heard this man utter, and it is somewhat strangled and you barely catch it over the rising panic that unfolds around you.

“Who d’you think she’s here for?” Jeongguk whispers to you.

“No idea,” you choke out with a closed throat, even though you have a very good idea who she’s here for.

As Bae Joohyun nears your cluster of desks, she slows down. Her eagle eyes scan the floor where all the employees are huddled at their seats, typing away with hunched shoulders. You can feel her gaze land on you, and you close your eyes briefly to say a prayer for mercy.

“______.”

Your name is uttered into the silence, and Jeongguk’s eyes shift just a fraction to glance at you. They are wide with fear. Beside him, Park Jimin’s eyes dart to yours from behind his thick black glasses. But none of them move.

“Y-yes?” You turn in your chair to face Bae Joohyun.

“You applied for emergency half day leave this pm, am I correct?” The witch herself holds up your leave application form. “Seeing as it’s this last minute, it must be urgent. What’s wrong with you this time?”

It’s dead silent. Everyone is pretending to work at their desks, but you know all too well that what they’re really doing is eavesdropping on this conversation. Well, eavesdropping is too generous a term, considering that this conversation is made fully public.

“I… I’m…” You stutter and stumble over your words, struggling to think of a plausible excuse. Some part of you had hoped for a miracle, prayed to the gods eight times last night that Bae Joohyun would be in a merciful mood this morning and grant you the leave without asking.

You glance at Jeongguk, and by now he’s worked everything out silently in his head. His expression says everything. But he doesn’t dare to even look you in the eye.

Instead of him, you realise that another pair of eyes are watching you instead. Park Jimin’s head is tilted to the side, his eyes are observing your mini panic attack without darting away for once.

“Well? What’s wrong with you, I asked,” Bae Joohyun demands.

You can practically hear the clock ticking off the seconds till her patience runs out. Between that and Park Jimin’s persistent stare, your mind just goes blank, and you utter the first words that come to mind.

“I… I’m having morning sickness!”

“What?” Bae Joohyun’s tone is, for the first time, one of shock. “What did you just say?”

Despite Bae Joohyun’s presence, Taehyung from Baby Bonus has turned around in his seat. “Morning sickness? You don’t mean to say you’re…”

Your eyes dart around wildly all over the place in response to what you think Taehyung is implying. God dammit, if not for his fucking comment, you could have diverted it down a less conspicuous path.

“Pregnant?” Namjoon from HR pipes up. “______, are you pregnant? When were you planning on notifying HR?”

Oh god. Things are moving too fast. Slowly, people are turning around in their chairs and inviting themselves into what should be a private conversation between you and Bae Joohyun. Curious looks are directed your way, and you are tongue tied.

“______, I didn’t know you were married! You’ve been keeping it from us this whole time?” Someone from Pre-Schools, you think his name is Seokjin, exclaims in a chiding tone.

“No!” Your voice bursts out from somewhere. It sounds far away to your ears. “No, I’m not married!! I just had a… a… a one night stand.”

Fuck. You’re digging yourself into a deeper hole.

“A one-night stand?” Bae Joohyun narrows her eyes. Somehow you can see that she doesn’t really buy it. She is scanning your face intently, and if there’s even a shred of uncertainty, she will catch it.

“With him!” Pointing at the one person who’s been silent all this time, you can feel the gazes shift from you. You know what they say about a liar. They always have this compulsive need to supplement their lies with arbitrary details.

But it works, and everyone’s attention is now on Park Jimin. You can see his eyes dart around briefly for a moment before they return to yours. But they don’t seem any more panicked or surprised than they usually do. He is as cool and collected as he always is, and he doesn’t say a word, as usual.

“Damn, you and Park Jimin?” It’s Jeongguk who speaks up this time. “Who would have thought? I mean, the guy just started yesterday, that must have been hell of a welcome party you gave him.”

Several giggles and snickers break out in response to his lewd joke.

“Shut up Jeon, that’s not how pregnancy works,” Namjoon rolls his eyes. “They must have met each other months ago. Is this going to be another HR concern though? Inter-departmental relationships?”

Bae Joohyun glances down her nose at you derisively. “I have no wish to know what you do in your free time. But I must ask, Ms _____, that you inform HR immediately of any condition you have that might affect your ability to work.”

The intimidation wrought by Bae Joohyun is replaced by anger at her words. No wish to know about your personal matters, when she was the one who decided it was appropriate to ask why you need to take leave in front of the whole department? What if this was a real situation and you were facing an unplanned pregnancy? Instead of being offered sympathy and support, you’re faced with judgement. This woman is entirely heartless and should not be the head of a pro-family planning division. Not to mention that discussing your leave application publicly is utterly inappropriate. It’s this thought that gives you the courage to speak.

“So can I be approved?” You look her directly in the eye, throwing your shame out the window. What’s done is done. Since the whole department thinks you got knocked up from a one-night stand with a colleague, you might as well use it to your advantage. “For my half day leave. Can it be approved?”

A few beats of silence follow as Bae Joohyun looks cornered for the first time. There is an unspoken pressure even as people turn back to their desks to continue working. If she turns you down in front of everyone like this, she could quite possibly get reported for discrimination against pregnant women. Though it is unspoken, your shoulders relax as you realise you have the upper hand in this situation.

Bae Joohyun takes a deep breath.

“Fine. Approved.”

Wednesday morning, Jeongguk is an eager puppy trailing after you, begging for pictures and a blow by blow account of the concert.

“Just watch my Instagram story or something, I literally have no voice to talk to you right now,” you roll your eyes. Truth be told, your voice isn’t that bad off, but you just want to bask in that post concert afterglow for a moment.

“What was he like in person? Did you pass him my fan letter?” Jeongguk is relentless this morning, and his never ending chatter makes Park Jimin peek out curiously from behind his computer.

When your eyes meet, you freeze on the spot like a deer in the headlights. On Tuesday you left right after Bae Joohyun approved you, seeing as it was almost lunch time anyway. You decided that after winning a war, one rightly deserves to enjoy a stress free, worryless night out before returning to the battlegrounds once more.

But now that you’re here, it is a whole different story. Park Jimin glances at you wordlessly before resuming typing, and the awkwardness is killing you. You feel bad enough that you implicated him in this whole mess, probably ruined his reputation around here and maybe even giving HR a reason to keep a closer eye on him. But regardless, you probably should talk to the man and attempt to explain things, and at the very least, apologise.

“…ask him when his next mixtape is dropping?” Jeongguk is still at it.

“Hey, um, Jimin? If you have a moment this morning, can I speak to you in private?” You lean to the side to attempt to catch a glimpse of Park Jimin.

There is a slight pause before Jimin’s head appears, and he meets your eye for a moment before looking away again. He nods once before turning his head in the direction of an empty meeting room.

“Woah, should you be doing that in your condition, though?” Jeongguk comments with a lewd smirk even as his eyes lower to your mid-section, and you give him a scathing glare in response as you close your laptop.

“Shut up, Jeon. Just for the record, I ripped up and threw your letter in the trash,” you hiss at him, eliciting a horrified gasp as you follow Jimin to the meeting room.

“So, um…” You start off awkwardly once the door is closed.

Park Jimin is twiddling his thumbs, head bowed shyly and he refuses to make eye contact with you. Now that you think of it, his nerd glasses actually suit him quite well, but it’s just a shame that he’s too painfully shy to actually look anyone in the eye. He is quite a good looking guy, but maybe he has issues with his self-esteem is all.

“I wanted to apologise, first of all. And also explain myself,” you take a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have dragged you into my mess. It’s just that- I… I just haven’t had a fucking break from Bae Joohyun ever since I started working in this fucking place.”

All the resentment just pours right out, and you’d be ashamed of yourself for using vulgarities at the workplace were it not for Park Jimin finally glancing up at you with a tiny smile on his face.

“I heard the rumours about her. So they’re true.” Jimin’s voice is still a little hesitant, wondering how much he should be gossiping about Bae Joohyun with another co-worker who could so easily rat him out and get him in trouble. But then, seeing as you’ve already managed to implicate him within a day of knowing him, how much dirtier can you do him, really? The thought brings a wry smile to his face once more. But then again, it seems like everyone here is more or less united by their intense dislike for Bae Joohyun. You of all people probably dislike her the most.

“True? What kind of rumours did you hear? And from where?” Intrigued by the man whom you’ve exchanged less than two words with before claiming to have had a one-night stand and a resulting pregnancy with, you lean forward in your seat.

Jimin shrugs. “Glassdoor.”

His response catches you off guard, and you are laughing with your hands over your mouth. “Oh my god. Please tell me you read the one where someone spit in her coffee. That was me.”

Jimin raises an eyebrow. “Really? I thought that was by a 54 year old IT engineer.”

“I can’t be putting my real age and designation on there, can I?” You point out.

“Were you the one who bagged dog shit and hid it in her office?” Jimin has that tiny smile again, and you have to admit it’s sort of cute when he comes out of his shell. He is even more handsome when he smiles, brighter and somewhat infectious.

“19 year old marketing intern? Yep, that was me,” you sigh in contentment as you remember rage writing all those Glassdoor reviews after a particularly bad meeting that one week. You didn’t actually do all of those things, but just imagining it and writing public reviews was enough for you to get your imagined revenge.

“ ‘Hid some dog shit in her office so she can be reminded of how shitty her management style is’,” Jimin recites from memory. “You know, I almost withdrew my application because of that review.”

Jimin’s dead serious tone makes you laugh again. The sound of your laughter fills the empty meeting room, and you have to admit that this is the most relaxed and carefree you’ve felt while working here.

But belatedly you realise that you’ve gone very off topic, so you sober up and attempt to try to get things back on track again. “So anyway, about the um… one-night stand thing. We can just lie low for a while and make up some shit later. Tell them the baby didn’t make it or something.”

Jimin nods thoughtfully, tapping his chin. “Or we can say it was a false positive. Less for you to go through since people would be all over you with pity and sympathy if we said that. I don’t think you’d wanna be pretend to be distraught over an imaginary baby.”

“That’s right, you’re a genius!” You marvel the way he just comes up with these ideas so easily. “How did you know about false positives?”

Jimin only shrugs, pushes his glasses up on his nose a little and he seems to be blushing. “I studied biology as an elective back in university.”

There’s a pause of silence before you look him in the eye again. “I really am sorry, you know. For making you go through all this. I kind of just panicked and didn’t think before speaking.”

But Jimin doesn’t seem to be making as big of a deal of it as you are. “Y’know, it’s fine. It ispretty exciting to be accused of having a one-night stand on my very first day. Aside from that, things can only go up, right?’

It takes you a moment or two to realise that he’s making a joke, delivered in that deadpan way of his that betrays his sweet, innocent face. At your harried expression, Jimin breaks the act and giggles, and you nearly slump over with relief.

“So, I guess we have to act like we’re in a relationship too?” Jimin adds as an afterthought.

“It’s up to you, we don’t really have to make it that obvious,” you shrug as you get up from your seat and push the chair back to its original position. “I’m fine with being an unwed mother for a bit. I wouldn’t wanna trouble you any more than I already have. You don’t have to do anything else for me.”

Jimin is silent as he follows your lead toward the door. When the both of you are almost halfway back to your seats, he stops you with a brief clearing of his throat. “It wouldn’t bother me at all.”

You look back at him for a moment, and he just gives you another one of those shy little smiles as he goes back to his desk. For the rest of the afternoon, you find that you don’t really mind having an open office policy, not if it allows you glimpses of cute Park Jimin in his nerd glasses sitting opposite you.

The ruse goes on without a hitch for at least a few weeks. Here and there you get the odd look of curiosity and perhaps a little judgement from a few of the older ladies who tsk behind your back about you being a single unwed mother, but otherwise, things are better than ever. Just knowing that you have the freedom to take medical leave whenever you feel like it has improved your mood greatly, and the other day Namjoon from HR even came to tell you that you can come into work later if the morning sickness is really bothering you.

Most of all, people are also curious about the relationship between you and Park Jimin. Word has spread that he is the father of your pseudo baby by now, but thankfully no one is tactless enough to outright ask if you and Park Jimin are a couple now. Not even Namjoon from HR.

Monday morning comes, and you drag yourself into work, feeling slightly more worse for wear than usual. Every Monday, you have a progress meeting with your immediate superior that always leaves you in a bad mood after. It’s the same old tirade; getting piled with things that others have no time for, having previously submitted proposals rejected and being asked to redo them.

Today after the meeting, Jimin comes up to you just as you’re downing your fourth cup of coffee before 10am. He has a slightly anxious look on his face, one that’s out of place on his usual calm and composed self.

“Do you have a minute? We need to talk. Now.” Jimin turns immediately and starts walking towards the nearest meeting room, and in spite of yourself, your eyes are drawn to his ass in those pants. It almost makes up for the earful you got from your manager this morning. Almost.

“We’re in trouble,” Jimin says once you close the door to the meeting room. He is seated with his laptop open in front of him.

“What happened? Is it Taehyung from Baby Bonus again? I swear, if he accidentally deleted the whole archive, I’m going to shove a chair up his ass-“

“No, no it’s not about work,” Jimin swallows hard as he types something and turns his laptop to face you. “Over the weekend, someone wrote on my wall. They said- they wrote- just… just see for yourself.”

“Oh my god.” You hand flies to your mouth as horror slams into your gut. “I’ll kill him. I’ll kill that stupid punk with my own two hands. Delete it now!!!”

“That’s not the point,” Jimin’s voice sounds strangled as he directs your attention to the comments. “That’s my Granny. She saw it.”

The full extent of the damage done doesn’t hit you until you read Park JungMin’s comment.

“What was your granny doing up at freaking 5am???” You hiss in anger, poking Jimin’s shoulder.

“I don’t know- she’s an old person! She probably couldn’t sleep!” Jimin snaps back.

“Why didn’t you delete it immediately after you saw it!?” You accuse Jimin, pointing a finger at him. “None of this would have happened if you just deleted the post!!!”

“I only saw it this morning, for your information,” Jimin turns his head away from you and crosses his arms. “Forgive me for having a normal sleep schedule.”

“Fucking Jeon Jeongguk, I’ll kill him, I really will,” you mutter as you start to pace back and forth, already contemplating the numerous ways in which you can torture him.

“What are we going to do?” Jimin’s hands hover nervously over his laptop. “Granny will be so disappointed if she finds out it’s a lie. Maybe we should just come clean.”

You whirl around in indignance. “We can’t do that!!! It’s far too soon, if the truth comes out now, everyone will know I was just faking it. We need to wait at least three months. I researched, that’s the most likely time for a woman to have a miscarriage. Why did you have to add your grandmother on Facebook??”

“Hey-! She just wants updates on my life because she lives all the way in Busan!!” Jimin looks affronted when you mention his granny like that. “And if we’re playing the blame game here, if it weren’t for your concert, none of this would have happened in the first place.”

“That was agust d,” you say simply, as if it explains everything. “And that’s not the point. You have to tell your granny that it’s all a lie and tell her to keep it to herself.”

“But what am I supposed to say?” Jimin whines, his bottom lip jutting out and you swear you almost see him stamp his foot like a toddler throwing a temper tantrum.

“I don’t know, anything! Make something up!” You throw your hands up in exasperation.

“She has a weak heart, she can’t take it,” Jimin insists as he stands up and crosses his arms. “She’ll keel over in shock if I tell her there’s no baby. And she told me she’s already booked on the first flight to Seoul. You have to take responsibility.”

The absurdity of this situation means that you can’t decide if you should laugh or cry. “Well what do you want me to do? I can’t just magic a baby into my stomach like that!”

Jimin stays silent, and the implication dawns on you.

“No way. You’re insane. You can’t possibly mean that we should-“

“She wants you to come over for dinner tomorrow night.” Jimin says finally, his eyes now pleading. “She just wants to meet you. We don’t have to tell her that there’s no baby yet. Please?”

Oh. Well, for a second there, you thought Park Jimin was about to suggest something else entirely.

“It’s just one dinner,” Park Jimin pleads eagerly.

Your head is pounding, and the stress of the entire morning has caught up with you. Everything is too overwhelming, things are moving too fast and you’re too tired to argue with him any longer.

“Fine. Just one dinner. After that, we’re coming clean with Granny.” You fix him with a meaningful stare as his face lights up in glee.

“I promise!” Park Jimin grins as he claps his hands together. “Oh and ______... you might want to go easy on the coffee there. Pregnant women can’t have too much caffeine.”

This is ridiculous.

Just thinking that you could be curled up at home with a nice glass of wine in bed, instead of standing nervously outside some stranger’s house makes you more huffy and annoyed than usual.

Jimin beside you shoots you a look, and you roll your eyes.

“Did you hear me? Or do I have to repeat the entire story of how we met and ended up secretly dating for five months again?” Jimin nudges you in the ribs with his elbow.

“When I said make something up, I didn’t think you were going to become a scriptwriter for Marvel,” you roll your eyes back at him. “I’m just gonna let you do the talking. Ok? If they direct any tricky questions my way, I’ll just pretend I need to puke.”

Jimin sighs a long suffering sigh as he reaches for his keys. He always envisioned the first time he brought a girl home to meet his family as a wholesome affair. He imagined himself to be feeling over the moon, a little nervous but that was to be expected, and most of all, irrevocably in love with the woman standing at his side. Taking a glance at you now, Jimin can’t say this situation is ideal.

But hey, when life gives you lemons, right?

He opens the door and leads the way in, only to be accosted by a hug from his Granny having made it only about five steps in. Her comforting embrace and familiarity makes him relax again, and he hugs her back tightly.

“Granny! I missed you! How was the flight? Does your back hurt? You should have rested more! You should have let me pick you up at the airport,” Jimin says in a chiding tone as he places an arm around her, trying to steer her towards the living room area to take a seat.

But the stubborn old woman refuses with a smile that lights up her entire face when she catches a glimpse of you. “Ah, this must be ______! She looks so pretty! Too good for our little Jimin, I must say. Come in, come in!!! Take a seat and take a load off!!! You must be tired after working the entire day, and with the baby too.”

You can barely keep yourself from wincing when she mentions the baby, but otherwise, Jimin’s Granny is a very pleasant person. She exudes an aura of warmth and you feel at home with her immediately. Her compliments make you soft; and she seems to be incredibly genuine about them too. For the next five minutes, all she does is admire you; how smooth your hands are, how good your complexion is, how smart, kind and gentle you look, and also my oh my our little Park Jimin has managed to snag such a professional for a girlfriend.

“Granny, you’re embarrassing her,” Jimin mutters with a rosy blush spread across his cheeks as he stands beside the old woman. “And me as well.”

“Nonsense,” Granny chides Jimin as she turns to you with a smile that wrinkles at the corners of her mouth. “This is the first time our little Jimin has brought a girl home, you see. We were all worried that he was… you know, batting for the other team, which would be perfectly fine, but…”

“Granny!!!” Jimin actually does stomp his foot and cross his arms. The tips of his ears are red, the blush on his cheeks is prominent. “Granny, I’m hungry. Can we eat?”

It seems like Jimin knows exactly what works on Granny, because she turns around immediately and pats Jimin’s cheek. “Alright, alright puppy. We can eat now. Come, _____, you must be hungry too now that you’re eating for two. I asked Jimin about your favourites, I hope you like them.”

You glance questioningly at Jimin for a moment over Granny’s head as the two of you follow her to the dining table and have a seat opposite each other. While Granny’s warmth is nothing but welcoming, you can’t help but feel a little overwhelmed. This, at least, is not what you were expecting. Granny seems perfectly fine with the notion of you being pregnant with Jimin’s child without getting married first. Perhaps society is shedding its traditionalist viewpoints and you just hadn’t realised it.

“You know dear, when Jimin told me the news, I was so overjoyed,” Granny says with a wistful smile on her face. “It’s one of my wishes to see Jimin happy with a girl he loves. And looking at the two of you now, even if I die tomorrow, I’ll be content.”

“Granny!” Jimin admonishes sharply. “You can’t say that! Your health has been getting better, hasn’t it? Are you taking your medicines? Three times a day, like the doctor said!”

Granny pats her grandson’s hand. “I am, puppy, I am. What does an old woman like me have to live for if her only grandson doesn’t even visit her anymore? At least now I’ll have the baby to look forward to. You’ll let me take care of it for you, won’t you?”

This last part she directs to you, and you glance nervously at Jimin. This is most definitely not what you signed up for when you agreed to this dinner. With every passing second, the guilt just piles higher and higher, till you feel like you might have trouble swallowing your food.

“Mrs… Mrs Park,” you say hesitantly, speaking for the first time since you set foot in this house. Pseudo baby or not, it just wouldn’t do to hurt this kind old woman, especially since she seems so excited and happy to meet you.

“Call me Granny, please,” she says as she pushes an extra bowl of rice towards you. “You should have this too.”

“Oh no,” you say automatically. “I’m watching my weight, so I shouldn’t…”

But it was the wrong thing to say. Granny immediately perks up, sitting straight in her seat, her eagle eyes on you. “Watching your weight, dear? Why would you be doing that now? You should be eating well for the baby! Is it this little punk who’s making comments about your weight?”

Granny seizes hold of Jimin’s ear and pulls, and he whimpers in the midst of spooning a giant bite of rice into his mouth.

“NO!” You blurt out in a panic, seeing your coworker’s face screw up in pain. You have to admit that you’ve been in a number of interesting situations with Park Jimin thus far, but something tells you that this isn’t the worst of it just yet. “No, Granny! I- I take it back. I’ll eat.”

Granny lets out a hmph as she releases Jimin’s ear with a warning glance towards her grandson. As Jimin reaches for a juicy looking sparerib, Granny’s chopsticks dart out and intercept him, causing the piece of meat to fall back onto the plate. She then expertly picks it up with her own chopsticks and drops it on top of your rice with a satisfied smile.

Jimin turns to Granny with a pout on his lips, and when your heart skips a tiny, little beat, you know you’re in trouble.

Somehow, bad news always comes on Monday mornings.

Today it comes in the form of Park Jimin, again, as he drags you into a meeting room the moment you finish your meeting with your manager.

“What is it now?” You hiss at him as he locks the door suspiciously. “Do you really need to do that? You know people think we’re like, fucking in here, don’t you? Thanks to your buddy Jeon Jeongguk.”

“Wait, what?” Jimin does a double take. “No, that doesn’t matter. My parents. They want me to marry you.”

“WHAT?” You screech so loudly that Jimin winces and covers his ears. “Tell them no, for fuck’s sake!”

“They already apparently bought an entire plot of land in the baby’s name,” Jimin goes on adding to the bad news as if he were adding fuel to the fire. “It’s in Baby Park’s name.”

“Oh my god.” Your head swirls and you wobble on your feet, and Jimin reaches out to steady you as if you were actually pregnant. You push his hand away with an irritated glare to remind him that all this is just a ruse. One that you’re beginning to seriously regret having cooked up all those weeks ago.

“What are we going to do?” Jimin sighs as he runs a hand through his hair, taking off his glasses for a moment to rub at his temples.

“We?” You exclaim. “What do you mean, we? Why are you talking as if we’re already married? You need to resolve this situation on your own, buddy. It’s not my fault your family likes to jump the gun!”

“What about you then?” Jimin snaps back with a raised eyebrow. “Look, it’s been two months, almost three, and I don’t see you making any plans to hide a watermelon under your clothes or tell people that it’s all just a scheme you cooked up.”

You gasp indignantly. “I was- I was working up to that! You know, coming up with my cover story, setting the stage, all that!”

Park Jimin crosses his arms in disbelief. “Oh really? So you’re planning on coming clean with everyone and telling them you’re not actually pregnant? Is that why you’ve been taking medical leave every week, running to the bathroom to ‘throw up’ every morning that you’re noton leave?”

“Have you been watching me?”

“A little hard not to, considering you sit right opposite me!”

The two of you are panting and staring hard at each other, both wrapped up in your own anger.

“Look, I’ll forget everything else. Just tell your parents to sell the land or something. The price of land has gone up recently, I’m sure they can still make a valuable profit if they sell now…”

Jimin’s eyebrow twitches. “Sell the land? When they think it’s for their precious grandchild?”

“There. Is. No. Grandchild,” you spit back at him. “Oh my god. We’re just going in circles here. I need to get back to work. My manager already gave me hell this morning, and I don’t need this from you too.”

You leave him in the meeting room and make your way swiftly back your desk, waking your laptop and checking your emails. A few minutes pass before you can fully calm yourself down and reorientate to what needs to be done. First, you redo that spreadsheet, feeling slightly better once you drown out the entire world and just focus on the numbers and cells in front of you. In fact, you forget about this whole terrible mess for a moment or two.

“Hey, _______?” There is a tap on your shoulder, and you turn around to see your manager hovering behind you. She bends down to squint at your screen, “You’re not still redoing the spreadsheet, are you? Our meeting ended an hour ago, you should be done with that by now!”

“I-I’m sorry, something came up, and I…” your voice is weak compared to hers, and vaguely you can see Park Jimin lean over slightly in his seat. “I’m done with it now. I’ll send it over.”

“Good. And get started on the operations manual. I need it all by 5pm today.” Your manager gives you a pat on the back, starts to walk off, and then hesitates. “I know you’re in a rather… delicate situation, but that shouldn’t affect your ability to work. It’s a busy period of time, _____, and I expect nothing but the best from my team. Got it?”

You swallow hard as you try and return her smile. “Got, it, Manager.”

Turning back to your screen, tears are blurring your vision as you attach the document to an email and send it off. You can feel the curious stares of your coworkers all on you, and you feel more self-conscious than ever. Never mind that pretending to be pregnant is all a ruse. It was supposed to make your life better, give you some breathing space, but you feel more suffocated than ever.

You need some air. Now.

Standing up, you grab your phone and dip your head, striding for the exit quickly so that no one catches the expression on your face. Hopefully, they’ll think you need to puke or something, and not pathetically hide in a corner and cry your eyes out. Thankfully, this morning you had the foresight not to apply any eye makeup, so you can rub your eyes as much as you want.

This corner is actually pretty nice. It’s secluded that no one would accidentally wander in and find a hysterically sobbing woman, yet it’s not too far that you can’t make it back to your desk within five minutes if your manager calls. You wipe your face with the back of your sleeve, taking a deep breath and getting ready to go back and face everything once more, when you notice a pair of loafers standing a few steps away.

“Are you okay?” Park Jimin’s voice is familiar. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to… intrude, but you just looked so upset and… she was totally unreasonable. Using that as an excuse to comment on your work ethic. Just unacceptable.”

He is shaking his head with a serious expression on his face, and it makes you laugh suddenly. Jimin looks up in surprise, eyes wide, but then a small smile spreads across his face as well as he tucks his hands into his pockets. It occurs to you that if Park Jimin weren’t here, no one else would have come to check up on you.

“I’m used to it,” you shrug as you check your reflection in your phone screen. “It’s just… I just need to cry once and I’m fine. You weren’t supposed to see this side of me,” you attempt a weak laugh. “You’re only supposed to know the bad bitch side of me.”

“You can still be a bad bitch even if you cry every now and then,” Jimin shrugs as if it’s obvious. “If you’re done crying, can we go for lunch? I’m starving.”

You make Jimin buy you some meat and you wolf it down in front of him as if you really were eating for two. To his benefit, Jimin says nothing and only takes out his wallet when it’s time to pay.

On the way back to the office, feeling decently satisfied and absolutely sure that you have a tiny little food baby (with today’s dress being particularly unforgiving around the midsection), you can’t help but feel a little bit better. Maybe Park Jimin isn’t so bad after all.

“______? Oh my god, ______? Is that you?” A far off voice calls, and you turn back.

And you wish you hadn’t.

Min Yoongi comes striding towards you with a huge grin on his face, waving as if he can’t believe it’s really you.

“Shit shit shit,” you swear under your breath. How much unluckier can this day get?

Jimin looks at you quizzically.

“It’s my bastard ex who cheated on me by getting another girl pregnant,” you whisper to him by way of explanation. “They got married last month but I never responded to their invitation.”

“Oh,” Jimin says, immediately grasping the situation. “I got it. Don’t worry.”

“What?” You look at him in panic, seeing the expression on his face and not liking it one bit. “What are you gonna-“

But it’s too late now for any further conversation, since Min Yoongi is now in earshot. He grins again as he looks you up and down. “_____! What a surprise! Do you work around here?”

“Y-yeah, what a surprise too,” you say weakly.

“I haven’t seen you in ages!” Yoongi’s eyes dart to Jimin standing beside you for a moment, before they fall to your midsection. “But might as well. I wanted to congratulate you on the baby, because what a coincidence, right?”

He hands you a beautifully embossed invitation card with the words ‘Baby Shower’ on it, and you can feel your face draining of all colour. You swear under your breath.

“Oh! And this must be… the father-to-be?” Yoongi somehow doesn’t pick up on the escalating horror on your face, because he turns to Jimin and extends a hand of congratulations. “Congrats, man! How’s it feel? Excited to become a dad?”

Jimin sneaks a quick peek at your horrified expression. “Y-yes! Absolutely…. Um, thrilled, we are.”

At Jimin’s confirmation, Yoongi’s face seems to fall a little, and seeing it makes your heart clench in vindication. Serves that cheating little bastard right.

“I didn’t know you were seeing anyone, ______... let alone serious enough to… have a baby and all that,” Yoongi’s voice mellows a little as he directs his gaze back to you. “I thought you didn’t want to have children… for a while, at least.”

You detect a little bit of regret in Yoongi’s voice, and maybe a little bit of something you can’t quite put your finger on right now. In your five-year long relationship with him, Yoongi always made it clear that he wanted to have children as soon as possible. It was one of the major roadblocks in your relationship, and eventually it became the tipping point that drove him into the arms of another woman who was desperate enough to pop out his babies for him.

Wait a minute. It almost sounds as if Min Yoongi is trying to blame you for making him cheat. All of a sudden, you want to show him how you’ve been living all these months. Completely fine and happy without him. Better off, even. You want to make this cheating bastard realise that you’re not pathetic. You open your mouth in indignation, but before you can say anything, you hear Jimin’s voice.

“It all happened so fast, really,” Jimin shrugs as if it’s no big deal. “When I saw her I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her, and you know how life is… We aren’t getting any younger either, so we thought why not try for a baby while we’re at it? She’s perfect for me, and we’re very happy together.”

Jimin does it better than you ever would have been able to. His words are so smooth that even you are convinced that the two of you are in a stable relationship together. Glancing at him, Jimin looks so self-assured and confident that he puts Min Yoongi to shame.

Min Yoongi looks shell shocked. “R-right. Th-that’s really nice, I’m ha-happy for you guys. Congratulations again.”

You have no idea how Jimin is making all of this up, but the look on Min Yoongi’s face is enough. It almost makes up for when you found out about the breakup through the pre-wedding invitations he sent you.

“But we- we haven’t really told anyone yet, so how did you find out?” A frown creases your brow as you mentally run through a list of people who know about this pseudo pregnancy. The whole company, for one. Jimin’s Granny. Jimin’s family. And now Min Yoongi. But the question is, who told Min Yoongi? It’s not like he has any links with Jimin’s family.

“I mean… I saw the bump,” Yoongi scratches the back of his neck as his eyes drop briefly to your waist. “And um… I know you blocked me on social media a while ago. But I just wanted to check in on you and see how you’re doing. And I saw someone post on Jimin’s wall about the baby. So I kind of put two and two together.”

There’s an awkward silence as your hands immediately fold over your waist, your cheeks heating up self-consciously. You can feel Jimin struggle not to burst into laughter beside you, and you surreptitiously elbow him hard in the ribs.

“Anyway, um… I hope you’ll come to the shower,” Yoongi nods at the invitation again. “It’s on Sunday, and feel free to bring Jimin too. I uh… invited your mom too. I mean, it’s just… Your family wanted to know how Yeji and I were getting along with the baby and… we were so close so I figured…”

At this point the humiliation can’t get any worse. So you decide to just cut him off with a formal smile that you hope doesn’t look too forced.

“We’ll be there, Yoongi. See you.”

It’s fine. It’s all fine. Even if Min Yoongi knows, it’s all fine. You can just attend this baby shower, just show your face for about an hour or so and then disappear from his life altogether. And then he won’t even know that you didn’t have a baby.

The very definition of co-workers means that you only see each other on weekdays from 9am to 6pm. But if that’s true, then somehow along the way, you and Jimin had progressed far beyond the point of just being co-workers, to the point that you’re somehow spending half of your weekend with him.

You sigh to yourself as you watch all your friends’ kids run about screaming at the top of your lungs. You’re already beginning to get a headache from all these irritating little gremlins making so much noise. At least you’re not being asked to play with or look after any of the children. Seeing that you and Yoongi had dated for a substantial amount of time, most of the attendees at this baby shower are your mutual friends, and it’s awkward to say the least.

At least you have Park Jimin with you to be your pretend boyfriend slash husband so you won’t seem like the pathetic ex-girlfriend attending her cheater ex-boyfriend’s baby shower for his new wife. So far there haven’t been any difficult questions, just curious looks from your friends whom you haven’t seen in a really long time because you’re just so tied up with work.

“Hey babe, come here! This is really fun,” Jimin shouts to you from one of the game stations, and you have no choice but to stop sulking in the corner like an evil brooding witch.

(One of your friend’s kids had pointed an accusing finger at you the moment you arrived at the shower with a not so thrilled expression on your face.

“Mama, why is the evil witch wearing yellow, mama? Is she here to curse Sleeping Beauty?”)

“This is really fun,” Jimin says again as he pulls the blindfold off with a grin on his face. “Pin the diaper on the baby poo.”

He points to a target board with a questionable looking substance smeared all over the centre of it. The person next in line is blindfolded and trying to pin the diaper in the centre of the board, and there are disappointed yells when he misses.

To his credit, Jimin really does look as if he’s having fun. He’s been the only person to score a point at this game, and he’s acing all the other games: guess the baby food, pin the sperm on the egg, etc etc.

“I’m notpinning the diaper on the baby poo,” you frown at him. Who the hell comes up with these games? “Is there any wine here? God, I need a drink.”

Before you can wander away, Jimin grasps your elbow. “You can’t drink,” he says with a serious, chiding look on his face. “You’re pregnant.”

“No one here knows that, do they?” You roll your eyes at him and sidestep a screaming toddler who is barrelling down the walkway. For someone who was present at the time of conception of this scheme, Park Jimin really is taking this way too seriously.

Jimin sighs and follows you to the beverages table in defeat. If he can’t stop you from drinking, the least he can do is hold up his jacket around you to make sure you don’t get caught. But then, a very rounded, glowing looking pregnant woman suddenly accosts you, and by the look on your face, Jimin surmises that this can only be Yeji, the woman Yoongi cheated on you with.

“Ye-Yeji, you look… um… wonderful!” Your strangled voice gets lost as Yeji envelopes you in a huge hug, forcing you to squeeze up against her bump. “Congratulations!”

The mother-to-be is all smiles, her makeup is perfectly done and there is an ever present glow on her face. She looks like an absolute goddess in her flowy white dress and wavy hair, and its moments like this that remind you that Yoongi left you for someone better.

“I feel wonderful, thank you!” She places a hand on her protruding belly. “Oh, I was just chatting with your mother over here, you haven’t said hi to her have you? She’s been complaining to me that you don’t have time for her anymore!”

Fuck. Your mother. You’ve been avoiding her calls and messages for the past few months, and you give her a weak smile as she comes over with a dark look on her face. It’s not that you’re doing this on purpose, it’s just that the breakup with Yoongi was beyond messy. Everyone’s parents are naturally on their side after a breakup, but somehow your parents remained on Yoongi’s. Every call would be about Yeji’s pregnancy, how their baby room was progressing, how many kicks she felt in a day, all those needless details that only felt like repeated stabs to the heart when you were trying to heal and get on with your life.

“…I’m so glad you could come. When Yoongi told me the news, I was so excited I thought my water was going to break!” Yeji is gesturing excitedly as she gushes to your mother, and you freeze in panic.

She couldn’t have…

“_____, I can’t believe you’re pregnant too!”

Her exclamation has a few of your friends nearby turning around, and a few of them start to clap. Yoongi elbows his way through the crowd, his hair matted with sweat as he pants with exertion.

“Baby, you were supposed to wait for my cue!” He admonishes his wife with a slight frown, but then he kisses her lips when Yeji pouts.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t wait! It’s all just so exciting, I can’t believe _____ is going to have a baby too! I remember feeling so guilty in my first few months of pregnancy that I could barely sleep…”

“I know, I know, baby,” Yoongi shushes her with a kiss to her forehead. “Anyway, _____ and Jimin, we uh… we prepared something for you. We hope you like it, and uh… _____, I hope it can make up for all the shit I put you through in the past year.”

At this point, you don’t even dare to look at your mother. “Wh-what did you prepare?”

“It’s over there! In front of the photowall,” Yeji claps in excitement. “Go on! Everyone’s waiting!”

Everyone at the party clears a path for you and Jimin to make your way to the colourfully decorated photowall at the front of the party. On the floor in front of it sits a brown cardboard box.

With all eyes on you, you swallow hard and start to make your way to the photowall. Jimin follows behind you, whispering under his breath. “What the fuck is this?”

“Probably another lame party game or something… just play along,” you whisper back, your mind too preoccupied with thinking about how you’re going to explain your pseudo pregnancy to your mother. Knowing her disposition, it’s entirely possible that your father knows about it already, and maybe even your entire extended family, and… oh god-

The moment you step in front of the photowall, someone standing to the side of the box pulls something, and an explosion of balloons and streamers burst from the box. You are quite literally showered in confetti, and when you look up, there are four balloons spelling out the word ‘baby’, and another balloon with ‘congratulations’ on it.

“Congratulations on your baby!!!!” Someone shouts, and people are taking out their phones to take pictures of you and Jimin drenched in confetti. Someone claps, and soon, the entire party is clapping. There are hoots of congratulations, someone proposes a toast, your college friends are almost in tears, your sister is loudly announcing that this should go on Instagram, your mother is half crying and half glowering at you for not telling her sooner, and everyone is talking about you and your non-existent baby.

Beside you, Jimin is equally stunned, but unlike you, he isn’t at a loss for words. He pulls you in close, pretending to pose for the cameras with a jovial smile on his face.

He still has the gall to joke around as he says, “maybe we should have that baby after all.”

In the blink of an eye, things just got very, very out of hand.

Number of people who know about pregnancy

Whole company: (estimated 200 people)

Jimin’s Granny

Jimin’s family

Min Yoongi and wife

Attendees of Yoongi’s baby shower (estimated 50 people)

Your family

Total: 265 people

#bts #bangtan bookclub #bts jimin #bts fics

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thebibliomancer · 4 years ago

Text

Essential Avengers: Avengers #231: Up From the Depths!

May, 1983

So back to where we were before a detour in Annualsylvania.

Time for Roger Stern’s first issue where he can do his own thing and not have to tie up someone else’s story. Although he did a really good job tying up someone else’s story so I’m hype to see his other ideas.

And the cover is. Uh. Thor, She-Hulk, and Captain Marvel trying to beat up a tree? Yeah, take that, the Lorax.

More seriously, its just good that cover artists have gotten the note about her outfit.

We start this story when some uh swamp thing looking things march out of Chesapeake Bay just before dawn.

“They are not men... not yet.”

Huh.

The narration informs us that in addition to not being men... not yet, these figures don’t even have bones.

Then one of the things just squishes through a chain link fence.

Ah, the ol’ T2 maneuver. Good show.

The things sneak up on a hilariously yellow-suited SHIELD agent, hold him down and knock him out.

One of the things turns into the guy they just grabbed.

Whoever: “No help is needed, Agent Farber. Farber... yes, that’s your name... my name now. The master was right. Farber’s surface memories are mine.”

Then New Farber sets off on Farber’s patrol route.

What a perplexing happening.

Several hours later, now for something completely different.

The Avengers, plus former members Vision, Scarlet Witch, Wonder Man, and Beast have gathered together at Meadowglen Memorial Gardens to... well...

Vision: “We have gathered here this day to pay our final respects to a former ally... a friend who gave her life trying to end the threat of Ultron. The robot Jocasta was never officially an Avenger. In truth, we barely knew her. What joys she held, what pain she felt, we can but guess. That is our failure... that is our loss. Now, we can only remember her gallantry, and mourn.”

She was too beautiful for this world.

Also, I know you already did the mea culpa on it, Vizh, but you personally barely knew her because you blew her off whenever she tried to socialize with you.

And the Avengers barely knew her because they constantly forgot that she was there.

Yeah, you admitted its your failure but I really want to make it clear what a big failure it was. You goons.

So what happened? Well, in Marvel Two-in-One #92-93... Jocasta pays a visit to the Fantastic Four and complains that the Avengers used and discarded her (which is half right but she actually ran away before they could reveal they wanted her to officially stay on as a substitute Avenger because they didn’t bother to mention it to her ahead of time).

She started living in alleys because society didn’t accept her. But she started having malfunctions that caused her a lot of pain so she came to seek Mr. Fantastic’s aid.

Overnight, Jocasta starts having nightmares about Ultron.

The following morning, Insurance Worker Aaron Stack meets with the Thing and decides to follow him around when Thing mentions he has to go deal with a lady robot. Because Aaron Stack.

Jocasta goes to the factory where Ultron was trapped in adamantium and frees him because Ultron hid a program in her brain to compel her to resurrect him. He tries to make her his bride again and she’s like ‘ew no’ again.

The Thing and Aaron Stack show up and Thing ends up mind controlled by Ultron who uses him to attack Aaron Stack.

Aaron Stack manages to get away with Jocasta. While repairing his Battle Damage, Aaron asks Jocasta why she doesn’t just call in the Avengers and she basically goes ‘i had a very dramatic exit and i’m not ruining it.’

The two robots go and confront Ultron again. Jocasta winds up wrestling with Ultron over a power cannon and it goes off blasting them both but specifically blasting Jocasta in half and not blasting Ultron in half.

Aaron Stack manages to defeat Ultron by reaching down his throat and ripping out his power supply.

... It feels like Aaron Stack does that kind of thing a lot.

Anyway, that’s how Jocasta died. And that’s why I’m sad.

The various Avengers and former Avengers all have their own thoughts during the heads bowed moment of silence.

Cap is just thinking about how many people he’s known have fallen in battle. Captain Marvel and She-Hulk feel the loss despite never meeting Jocasta. Thor wonders whether there might be room in Valhalla for her, despite being a robot. Hawkeye manages not to say anything disrespectful at all “for once.” Wasp is feeling like she lost a sister she’d never known. Really should have spent time with her. Granted, Jocasta felt weird about hanging out with you. Wonder Man thinks about the time that he died because everything reminds that guy of the fact that he died once. Beast feels like he’s been to too many funerals lately. Huh, did all the Defenders die already? And Vision is an inscrutable bastard even to the narration. Rude.

When the Avengers and co break up into smaller groups for chit chat, Beast asks Cap where the heck Iron Man is?

Cap(tain America, ‘natch) can only say that they left word for him about the service but that something must have come up.

Where the heck is Iron Man? His absence has been a plot point for several issues now.

LATER at 10 o’clock, Nick Fury, director of SHIELD, is in a helicopter with President Ronald Reagan on their way to inspect a SHIELD base where the agents are hilariously yellow-suited.

But when they get out of the helicopter, all the agents point their guns at the president.

Aw hey! And here I thought SHIELD sucked!

Okay, okay, okay. Its probably a gooey swamp plot, for some reason.

Also, Nick swears. I’m telling.

Five minutes later, at Avengers Mansion, the Avengers assemble for their regular meeting.

Except Iron Man hasn’t shown up.

As he hasn’t shown up for many meetings.

Cap wants to wait a couple more minutes because he’s just suuuuuure that he’ll be here any minute.

Poor, Cap.

Because right when Jan is going to start the meeting, they get a call on the priority phone.

Its Iron Man!

Wasp: “Iron Man! We’ve been trying to contact you for weeks! Where have you been?!? What happened? Are you all right?”

Iron Man: “Huh? Oh, yeah... I’m fine. But there’s been a lot of hassles here lately... at Stark International, I mean. The boss... Mr. Stark’s been going through a lot of changes, and he’ll be needing my help on more of a full-time basis for the time being. What I’m trying to say is... I have to quit the Avengers.”

This causes no small amount of consternation.

Cap even grabs the phone from Jan and tells Iron Man that they need him and that if there’s anything wrong, the Avengers can help.

Iron Man just says hey you guys are pros you can get along without me bye.

And then he hangs up as Thor is asking for his turn to talk.

Geez, what a weird call from Iron Man!

So whats the deal?

Here’s the deal.

Remember how Tony wasn’t looking so great last time he showed up in the book? Was kind of manic and unshaven?

Over in the Iron Man book, Obadiah Stane has been gaslighting Tony. Leaving bottles of whiskey out for him. Getting Indries Moomji to seduce Tony and then dump him. Hypnotizing a bunch of businessmen at a meeting to shout gibberish at Tony for some reason.

Presumably on top of all the nonsense going on in Avengers like the stress over what happened to Hank and with Jan, Tony falls off the wagon and starts drinking again.

He gets so drunk he starts flying around in the Iron Man armor, smashing every liquor billboard, which is funny if alarming. Deep in the bottle, Tony reveals to Rhodey that he’s Iron Man and then passes out.

Rhodey puts on the Iron Man armor and fights the villain de jour. Afterward, Tony refuses to take the armor back and leaves it in Rhodey’s care before going off to go be drunk some more.

So now Rhodey is Iron Man. Pretty exciting news for fans of Rhodey! It also means we’re getting closer to Secret Wars because Rhodey was the Iron Man in that story.

But, alas, for Tony Stark fans. Especially after having his identity revealed to Cap and Wasp, opening up a whole new dynamic among the Avengers.

Rhodey quits the Avengers because he doesn’t feel comfortable pretending to be the same Iron Man among them and doesn’t feel that he should reveal that the man inside the armor changed out of respect for Tony’s secrets.

Sooo. Yeah. Iron Man is off the team. Geez.

Stunned by this but doing her job as chairwoman, Wasp announces that the first order of business for their meeting is to fill the vacancy in the roster.

Who will it beeeeeeeeee?? -remembers the Starfox tease from last issue- Oh god no.

Meanwhile over at scene change, a scene changes.

10:15 AM, back to the SHIELD base.

Hilariously orange-suited Jasper Sitwell clasps his hands like a villain and announces that he’s holding the president ransom for...

ONE BILLION DOLLARS

President Reagan: “A billion dollars!! Good lord, man! Be reasonable! The federal budget can’t take that much added strain!”

They’ve already spent so much on the Iran-Contra affair.

Wait... -checks wikipedia- Oh okay, yeah it started in 1981 so this dig is historically justified.

Nick Fury, despite all the guns pointed at Reagan, decides to tackle Sitwell. All while thinking that base commandering this base was just too much pressure for poor Sitwell and clearly he snapped under the strain.

But then Sitwell grabs Fury mid-leap and slams him into the wall.

Nick Fury: “You... you’re not Sitwell!”

Not Sitwell: “No, but I’m a very good double, aren’t I? My men have replaced every single agent on this base! Now, are you ready to notify the proper authorities?”

So seconds later, Fury makes a broadcast to the White House situation room.

Nick Fury: “I... have some bad news, Pete. The boss an’ me are prisoners here.”

BUT! The person who got the message realizes that Bad News Pete is actually Agent Gyrich’s codename.

Which cracks me up.

And since Agent Gyrich is SOMEHOW still the Avengers liaison, despite the fact that they all hate him and refuse to deal with him in person, this is a code from Fury to call the Avengers.

So Henry Peter Gyrich calls the Avengers and tells them what’s going on and before you know it, the Quinjet is flying out of the mansion.

Apparently the launch bay is in the third floor now because the wall just swings open and the Quinjet flies out.

Neat.

On the flight over, Cap, She-Hulk, Thor, and Wasp try to strategize.

Try. Because they know where all the artillery emplacements are but without knowing where the President is being held, they don’t dare make a move.

Hey, Avengers, maybe you don’t have to be bad enough dudes to rescue the president from swamp monsters?

But since that’s not an option, the Avengers decide to wait until they hear from their advance scout.

Also, She-Hulk and Hawkeye are still bickering despite coming to a new understanding of each other recently. Peace was never an option?

So who is the advance scout? Captain Marvel, of course!

This is pretty rad, actually.

She can just turn to x-rays and invisibly zoom through the base going through all the walls she likes.

Like, yeah, once its known that Captain Marvel is on the Avengers, I bet you can expect villain liars to suddenly start having radiation and energy detectors because of this precise sort of thing, but its neat that this is one of the things Captain Marvel brings to the table.

While zooming around, Captain Marvel also finds a sealed chamber full of gas where all the real SHIELD agents are conked out.

And the most heavily guarded room where she finds Nick Fury and a snoozing president.

Moments later, Captain Marvel nyooms back to the Quinjet as it passes Wilmington, Delaware to deliver her report.

Hawkeye: “Whew! She flew there, searched the place, and got back here before we’d flown much more’n a hundred miles! That’s some kinda fast!”

Drinking some respect Monica juice, Hawkeye?

Captain Marvel reports that Fury and the president are being held in the base commander’s quarters, behind a six inch steel door and four armed men and that the real SHIELD agents are all unconscious in a chamber on the other side of the complex.

This information is enough for Cap(tain America) to start formulating a strategy.

But meanwhile, in a submarine in the bottom of the bay. Its a mysterious figure in a silly outfit who is the one who is behind the doppleganging swamp men.

He receives a report from Simuloid-One aka Not Sitwell who reports that the ultimatum was delivered to the White House and that if they don’t receive a reply in an hour, the president will be killed.

Mysterious Mastermind: “Excellent! If the ransom is delivered, I will have riches enough to work miracles! And if not -- America will be placed in a state of chaos which I will easily turn to my advantage! Either way, I win!”

Simuloid-One agrees that things couldn’t look brighter.

-ominous thunder-

Hee.

Thor is great for irony.

Outside the SHIELD base, Thor stands atop the Quinjet, looking not at all to scale, and destroys radar towers and gun emplacements.

Good thing Tony is missing so he doesn’t have to pay for any of this later.

Actually, is this going to wind up being much cheaper than paying the one billion ransom?

Because when the Quinjet lands, She-Hulk just tears open the ground at Cap’s insistence to reveal the central underground corridor. That’s gonna cost a pretty penny.

Thor stays above ground to finish beating up people and also tanks (although he’s already knocked out half of the fake SHIELD agents on the surface) and the rest of the Avengers slip into the base.

The Avengers split up per Cap’s strategy. She-Hulk and Cap go one direction, Hawkeye and Wasp in the other.

No sooner than they split the party, Cap and She-Hulk are bogged down in a group of the fake SHIELD agents in hilarious yellow suits.

Cap: “Heads up, She-Hulk -- we have company!”

She-Hulk: “Like I said before, no problem! I just wish we weren’t in such a hurry -- so I could take the time to enjoy this more! This is the best workout I’ve had in weeks!”

She-Hulk is fun.

Over with Team Wasp and also Hawkeye, Hawkeye holds off a different gang of swampmenfakeagents as Wasp slips out through a vent to get reinforcements.

Meanwhile, on Team Monica, Monica shows up where Nick Fury is taking off his belt and Reagan is taking a nap. Her part in Cap’s plan is to help Fury guard the president.

Meanwhile but back in New York, a rocket lands at Avengers Mansion.

Since the Avengers have a security at least good enough to detect that, an alarm goes off and Jarvis runs outside with a frying pan to bludgeon whoever it is.

Good hustle, Jarvis.

But its Starfox.

Hit him anyway, Jarvis.

Starfox: “I beg your pardon. I suppose I should have radioed ahead, but I wanted to surprise my old comrades. You must be Jarvis... Thor spoke of you. I am Eros of Titan. Perhaps you’ve heard of me?”

Jarvis: “Eros? Why... yes. You were allied with the Avengers against Thanos!”

Starfox: “Ah, I thought my fame might have preceded me. Are the Avengers about?”

Jarvis: “I... I’m afraid not, sir. They’re engaged in a most important mission.”

Starfox: “Really? Where?”

Jarvis: “I’m not at liberty to discuss -- !”

Starfox: “Oh, come on! You can tell me!”

Jarvis: “W-well...”

Starfox! You’d better not be using your space charisma on Jarvis! He is an angel!

Back at the plot in Maryland, Thor, Cap(tain America), She-Hulk- and Hawkeye have somehow managed to end up broadly in the same place fighting the combined two groups of fake agents.

And considering its the Avengers hitting them, they’re not going down.

She-Hulk is hitting them and they keep getting up for more!

That’s alarming and impressive.

But... Hawkeye shoots a blast arrow too close to some of the fake agents and one of them loses an arm.

But this isn’t the modern age. That’d be too graphic.

Its only wood.

Its described as brittle wood but again: they were taking hits from She-Hulk.

And based on one of the wood agents getting stuck in a loop, Captain America decides that they’re not only not men, they’re also not even sentient.

I don’t know that matches with what we’ve seen from these simuloids in terms of holding conversation and apparently having personalities. But I guess its only virtual.

But now that the Avengers know their enemies aren’t human and aren’t people, they don’t have to hold back.

They just sort of. Start dismantling the wood men and breaking them to bits so they can’t get back up.

If it weren’t wood, it would be pretty brutal!

Back at the submarine and the secret mastermind, the secret mastermind isn’t pleased that the Avengers are overrunning the base when there’s only six of them and nearly a thousand wood men.

Not Sitwell: “The odds would seem to be in our favor by your calculations, master, but their power is such that -- !”

Secret Mastermind: “Silence! Do not speak to the Plant-Man of power! Mine was the genius that gave the semblance of life to unthinking plant tissue! There can be no greater power than that! Avengers or no Avengers, I will not be thwarted!”

He tells Not Sitwell to dispatch all other simuloids and for Not Sitwell to see to the president and Nick Fury himself.

And since Plant-Man is fairly fed up being made to look the fool by people like the Avengers, he’s not going to take the loss gracefully. And he has a special weapon to crush all opposition and he’s gonna use it!

So! Plantman!

A Mega Man robot master?

No, no. Its Samuel Smithers. Also that wood man we saw in jail last issue. But that was clearly a decoy. How sneaky.

Plantman was originally a Human Torch villain who was a botanist who invented a ray gun that controls and animates plant life.

Much like every other Human Torch Strange Tales villain, I can’t take this man too seriously. He was a grown man who devoted his life trying to bully a teenager.

Also, he joined Nebulon’s cult for a while. So. Even less respect.

His costume also doesn’t scream ‘i control plants.’ He just looks like a doofus.

Anyway, in section C, Hawkeye and Wasp have found the chamber where the real agents of SHIELD are being kept sedated. Wasp finds the air circulation controls and vents the gas.

She sends Hawkeye to go back up Cap and sees to the rousing agents herself.

First things first, she tells them to get undressed.

Dammit, Jan! Time and place!

Jokes aside, I feel like this is a shirts vs skins thing.

What with all the identical people in yellow suits and face obscuring helmets and goggles.

In section B, Not Sitwell is following Plantman’s orders. He takes the elevator from the base communications center to the CO’s office.

Which opens right in front of the CO’s office for some reason.

That just seems like its asking for trouble. Like the CO falling down an open elevator shaft because the elevator just opens right in the floor!

Who designed this base!

What happens if you take the elevator up right when someone is leaving the office and they trod on your head! This is why elevators aren’t located in the middle of the floor!

Anyway, Not Sitwell tells the door guards to cover him while he eliminates the prisoners.

Inside the CO office, Nick Fury has finished taking off his belt.

So much undressing in this issue!

Okay, but seriously. Apparently, just in case of a situation exactly like this where he’s disarmed, Nick wears a belt that he can convert into a slingshot. Including an explosive pellet that could blow down a steel door.

That’s thinking ahead!

To a weird degree. Hopefully its a stable explosive and won’t go off in case anyone ever kicks him in the dick.

Anyway, he never ever gets a chance to use it because Cap(tain America) and She-Hulk beat up the guards and Not Sitwell and came in to help rescue Fury and the president. And they give him Not Sitwell’s gun so there’s no reason for Nick to ever use his belt explosive.

It be like that sometimes.

Then there’s a K-BAM that shakes the base so Cap(tain America) sends Cap(tain Marvel) and She(-Hulk) to investigate while he stays with Fury to protect the president.

Meanwhile, the president the Reagan wakes up from his nap. This isn’t important but this is the characterization the comic is going with. Sleepy Reagan.

Captain Marvel zooms off at literal light speed with She-Hulk telling her not to hog all of the action.

But then She-Hulk finds Hawkeye who has been pinned under some collapsed ceiling after that K-BAM. She(-Hulk) helps him out but his leg has been broken.

Then a bunch of shirtless people run in to She-Hulk’s alarm.

But its okay! Its the people Jan had get shirtless! And it was, probably, for shirt vs skins reasons!

Wasp tells She-Hulk that they’ve cleared out most of the fake agents and that they’ll keep an eye on Hawkeye, so She-Hulk should find out whats going on topside.

She-Hulk: “Holee -- ! What the devil is that?!”

Turns out that whats going on topside iiiiiiiiis

A giant-sized man-thing?

No, no. But definitely some kind of large... swamp... thing.

It apparently stomped out of the bay, according to a bolt of electricity. Who is Captain Marvel. Who also reports that the giant-sized swamp thing is pretty resistant to electricity.

Which makes sense. Vegetation isn’t a great conductor, is it?

She-Hulk: “The only thing a monster that big understands is strength!”

Then she runs at it Leeroy Jenkins style and gets stomped.

So thaaaaaaaat explains that cover. Good to know, good to know.

She-Hulk is strong enough to start lifting the foot off of her and Thor makes it even easier by smashing the monster in the leg, making ti topple to the ground.

Then Captain Marvel basically turns into a laser and bounces all over the monster, carving bits off.

Problem: This thing works under Sorcerer’s Apprentice rules.

Every piece chopped off becomes an angry tree man.

Those are some angry Ents.

Which unfortunately puts the Avengers right back where they started vis having a small army of angry wood men they have to beat up.

... Son of a damn is the giant-sized swamp thing an asteroids monster? You beat him into smaller monsters and have to beat those into monsters too small to be a threat anymore?

Dammit, Plantman!

She-Hulk points out the obvious that Captain Marvel can just set all the wood men on fire.

Which she does. She just starts emitting infrared radiation until a miniature, ambulatory forest fire starts.

Plantman: “This can’t be! They’re destroying my mightiest creation! What next?”

What next is that a rocket hits the giant-sized swamp thing in the face, destroying it.

Annnnd out pops Starfox.

Trading one problem for another.

Ha ha.

Ok, maybe he’s not actually so bad. We’ll see.

With the giant-sized swamp thing destroyed, Plantman flees the scene in his submarine. Luckily smart enough to not have shown his face so the Avengers don’t know he was involved.

Order is restored to the base and all the agents put their shirts back on, presumably to Jan’s chagrin.

President Reagan is grandfatherly or whatever and instead of complaining about this laughably massive security breach, just raises SHIELD’s budget so they can plug this swamp slime hole in their security.

And I’m surrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrre SHIELD will never have massive security breaches everrrrrrrrrrrrrr again.

Then again, he slept through most of the story so I’m sure he has no idea what happened.

And apparently Captain Marvel was moved from trainee to full, active Avenger at some point between issues.

Everyone pats her back and tells her that she did a good job, which she did do.

Starfox slides into the conversation and also adds his congratulations, slightly flirtily.

Captain Marvel is like holy shit an alien. What are you doing on Earth?

Starfox: “Why, I should think it’s obvious! I’ve come to join the Avengers!”

Everyone: “WHAT?!”

Hawkeye: -facepalm- Oh, no!

Womp, womp!

Heh. I’m amused that the Avengers have a similar reaction to me about this guy showing up to join the team.

So as Stern’s first issue not completing someone else’s story? Very good job, Stern. This was fun.

The characters were used effectively. The plot was fresh. Hawkeye’s leg got broken.

You’re doing a really good job!

Follow @essential-avengers because together we can make fun of Starfox much more effectively. Also like and reblog to let me do I’m doing a good job.

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genuflectx · 4 years ago

Text

Just wanna rant about my job a bit, will probably delete this later. But I think I may quit my job within the next month or so u_u’

Originally when I joined this job last year it was under originations- I helped people apply and get approved for loans, or offered general tech support when they needed help with the process online. I felt like I was helping these nice old people, they were rarely mean (save for the occasional grouchy old man after he gets rejected), and the work load was decent. Not too heavy, not too boring.

Then the pandemic hit. My entire team, which had been hired only a few months before, were rushed in for “accelerated training” on the credit card support department. I believe it was just like 4 weeks of training for a tooootally different workflow. We worked in the servicing department for what, maybe a month? Then they furloughed a ton of people and managers and moved us AGAIN, this time to collections. So calling to collect debts on our credit card product. When I joined this company it was under the understanding I did NOT want to do collections because it makes me sad and feel shitty. But they promised us we would be transferred back to originations after a bit, so whatever.

Slowly things have gone downhill since. Just tiny things adding up. They implemented a internet speed minimum requirement, which is understandable working from home, but we lost another good chunk of people who got fired for that, some who I’d made friends with. Hell, I got THREATENED with firing due to this, forcing us to run an Ethernet cable through 2 stories of our house. And I was PISSED because I was the only one on the team making a 100% average on QA scores. Then a few people quit, leaving only 3 people from my original originations team. They hired a new manager to oversee work force management (WFM) and quality assurance (QA) around this point and I’m CONVINCED it got worse because of her changes...

They changed our outbound dialing system to a cheaper one, promising all these improvements, and who woulda guessed... the quality of work life barely improved with this piece of crap tech but hey, it cut costs. Next they dismantled the debt management company department (DMC) and trained us in it so we’re technically trained for and work in two departments. On top of the promise that in the far future that they will cross-train us with the loan department too, a totally different product. We also have to do the emails for our department as well.

Then things got bad. Non stop calls for a months. Likely related to the unfortunate weather disasters in our outsourced locations. The outbound dialer, which is an autodialer that WFM loads up with late people to auto-call, starting filling up with impossible amounts of people to call for our agent count. We started going from 5000 to call every few hours to 10,000. And it doesn’t matter if we don’t clear the queue, they will load more in at certain times of the day. So we’d get 10,000 at 1pm, we’d get it down to 3,000 by 5pm, and they’d just load it back up to 10,000 again.

Then they added on the mandatory overtime. Everyone in our department either has to do a half shift extra on either saturday or sunday- with mine being on saturday. Another person quit (down to 2 from my original team). We’re understaffed as hell and they tell us that they’re FINALLY training a new class. And know what? They ONLY enacted the OT and got a new class because their service levels were down. Service levels are a mandatory legal level of how many agents per how many customers we have, they get in legal trouble when it drops too far for too long. They didn’t give a shit about our stress until their damn legal agreement dropped and then forced the OT on us. Wow. We feel so appreciated.

And THEN the OT was supposed to go until Feb 14th- today. THEY EXTENDED IT ANOTHER WEEK.

And and and a few days after they told us it was extended these dudes LAY OFF 3 managers, including our team’s manager, who I REALLY liked, and stuck us into the team of a manager who is notorious for giving out incorrect policy info! Why! >:(

Some other small things they’ve done that have added up slowly: They sent me a “nice” alluminum mug for my high QA score. Stuck it in the washer once and the pretty gold lettering on the front melted. It also leaks. They do these “thank you” videos some time where the upper management (never faces you recognize save for 2 or 3). BUT they made us watch this 10 minute long “thank you” Christmas video BETWEEN CALLS instead of scheduling time for us to do it like usual. Due to the short staffing, they changed how our weekly meetings with our manager/team go. Instead of having the whole team go into a meeting with her twice per week, they made her split this into 3 smaller meetings once per week, so that 2 or 3 team members meet with her at a time (more people on the floor to take calls). It spread her thin- before they laid her off of course. After they enacted the OT a week or so into it one of the upper management people sent us all an email telling us we basically weren’t doing good enough because our collections numbers weren’t high enough.. KNOWING we’re under staffed, she still emailed that. Come on.

So ya know what? My fiance and friends have encouraged me to just move on. This company isn’t what it was when I started a year ago, and idk if it’s legit just due to covid or if this WFM/QA overseer that they hired near the end of 2020 is fully to blame. I hate hearing customers tell me day in day out about their family dying, about being homeless/evicted. I hate old ladies screaming at me because they can’t comprehend that WE ARE IN A PANDEMIC and the MAIL WILL BE LATE, so their damn paper checks need to be mailed out at least 2-3 weeks in advanced- OR THEY COULD JUST CALL AND PAY LIKE NORMAL PEOPLE. Tired of people insulting me and calling me names because THEY’RE late and THEY missed a payment and they can’t accept responsibility- because they think screaming at someone making a few bucks over min wage will do anyone any good or make their shitty credit score any better.

All this mandatory OT and my nice manager being fired has put a lot of stress on me, if the other crap wasn’t enough. We’re really financially stable in this household even if I did quit, even if I’d feel guilty af. And it could be months before I found another job as safe and well-paying as this one, but at least my mental health would recover.

So I have about a day of sick time and 80 hours of PTO. My plan is to hopefully schedule out all 80 hours, or at least 85% of my PTO if I can, then when I come back to put in a 1 week notice. By then the new agents will be in full swing. I can get the money from the PTO I earned at this shit collections job and then try and move on to bigger and better things. And in the mean time while looking, I can work on art/writing and I can also possibly get a new car with all the money we’ve saved up. My mama and granny might end up disapproving and judge me but 2020 was such a shit year and I’m tired of this. I feel like this job is taking advantage of us and legit just doesn’t give a crap about their employees.

Okay! Well that’s outta my system! Bleck

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ncisjes · 5 years ago

Text

I’d find you in every lifetime

Based off this beautiful gifset by @everythingismadefromdreams and this drabble by @mcgeekle where Ziva is prosecuting a case the team worked. Kudos to them both for creating this amazing AU I am having so much fun writing in. Also a huge thank you to @mcgeekle for letting me continue this.

@benditlikepress @rareshbones

Read on AO3//FF

Take Your Time

Sipping her second drink of the night, she sits at the bar alone watching what feels like the same old news on ZNN. Being stood up was a rare occurrence for her, but this time she really could not fault the man. In the past two weeks they had agreed to get drinks after work on three separate occasions, and all three times she had bailed to work late.

The Simmons case was moving along on schedule, but it was still too early to tell how the jury was leaning. Her opening argument was flawless, but the expert witnesses had not fared as well as she had hoped under the scrutiny of the defendants defense team. Their one hundred thousand dollar an hour retainer was clearly paying off for their client.

Regardless of whatever lead the defense had, she was still determined as ever to win this case. Being new to DC, she needed to establish herself as a capable prosecutor. Her track record here had a much slower start than in New York, but that was mostly suffering through learning the quirks of the system and the judges preferences. She always knew the legal field was cutthroat, but D.C. gave New York a run for its money.

Luckily for her, the jury had yet to hear from the investigators whose findings built her entire case. She had planned to call Leroy Jethro Gibbs as her first witness, but as life would have it an emergency case had popped up keeping him and his team from attending the hearing.

Though it had been a month since she had seen him, she had to admit she found herself thinking about Special Agent DiNozzo quite a lot lately. While his delivery could have been better, his charm was what intrigued her to invite him back to her office to try his luck again at asking her out once the hearing had concluded. There was just something about him that she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Wondering what he would be doing on a Friday night like tonight, she imagined him sweet talking his way into some unsuspecting co-ed’s bed for the night.

Taking a long slow sip of her drink, she scans the room in hopes of finding someone to take home herself. Her eyes begin sizing up each prospect, noting their features and what she would like to do with them. Her gaze locks on a brunette that is all legs with grayish brown eyes which jogs her memory of a night a few months back. She cannot remember the woman’s name, but the curl of her tongue is still very vivid in Ziva’s mind. Seeing her arm wrapped around the blonde sitting next to her, Ziva continues to scour the room in hopes of repeating the ecstasy her mind just recalled.

Her search comes up empty as everyone in the bar has seemingly paired off. She’s about to signal for her tab and call it a night when she spots him out of the corner of her eye. He’s leaning over the bar talking to the blonde bartender who’s name always escapes Ziva. She laughs and leans over the counter, not only matching Tony’s stance but giving him a much better view down her shirt, Ziva is sure. Her fingers play with the condensation on her glass as she waits for him to notice her. He doesn’t disappoint, leaving the bartender without a second glance a few moments later and hastily making his way to her.

“Ziva David. Fancy finding you here.” Tony leans on the stool next to her.

“Hello Special Agent DiNozzo.”

“I see you’ve forgotten my name all ready.” He fakes offense.

“It is a lawyer thing. We have to be proper in court and it transcends into our personal lives.”

“Deflecting really doesn’t help your case here counselor.”

“I have not forgotten your name, Tony, and I see you have not forgotten your charm.”

“So you do find me charming.”

“I would not go that far.” She smirks.

“So what’s a girl like you doing here alone on a Friday night?”

“Who says I am alone?”

“This seat is pushed too far in for someone to have just gone to the bathroom. Unless of course you’re waiting for someone, but judging by your empty drink and the condensation collecting on it you’ve been waiting for quite a while. Our hot shot lawyer from New York couldn’t have been stood up, now could she?” Returning the victorious smirk she had given him moments before.

“Putting your investigative skills to use on your off time?”

“Only if it means I can sit down here.”

“I do not think that is a good idea.” She cautions him, her eyes going from playful to serious.

“Ah come on, who is going to see us? There’s none of you legal types in here. Plus I’m not your witness. Gibbs is.”

“But you are still a part of his team which makes-”

He waves his hand to shush her, causing her to balk at him.

“One drink.” He holds up his pointer finger as if to make it concrete that they’re only going to have a single cocktail. Somehow she finds herself relenting.

Taking his seat, Tony waves to the bartender he just abandoned to call her over. Arms crossed over her chest she stares back at him, not moving a muscle. He winks and makes the come hither motion with his finger, hoping that all can be forgotten with a really good tip on his tab. She scoffs, throwing the towel she is holding to the ground and walks through the swinging door to the back.

“Guess we won’t be served by her any time soon.” Tony comments, shifting his body towards Ziva. Before she can respond the other bartender approaches.

“Hey, sorry about that. Heidi can take things a little too personal sometimes. I’m Jack. What can I get you?”

“Scotch on the rocks for me and for-”

“I will have another mojito, Jack, thank you.” Ziva answers, effectively cutting Tony off.

“Sure thing.” Jack smiles and winks at her as he saunters off, causing Tony’s jealousy to spike for some unknown reason.

“So, you come here often?” Tony asks, drawing Ziva’s attention back to him.

“Is that what you really wanted to ask me? Generic pick up lines usually work to get girls to take you home with them?”

“I didn’t know that offer was on the table.” He leers at her, grabbing an ice cube from her drink and popping it into his mouth.

“No I do not come here often, and no it is not on the table.” She glares at him.

Jack arrives with their drinks, breaking the small amount of tension that had built up. Tony pays in cash and raises his glass to Ziva.

“To future offers. May they be successful and enjoyable for us both.” He gives her a big toothy grin before touching his glass to hers and taking a swig; his eyes never leaving hers.

Ziva is the first one to break and look away, muttering something under her breath in Hebrew but still finding herself smiling before taking a long drink.

“So tell me, how does the rising star of Mossad find herself practicing law in America?”

“I see you have done your research.”

“It is what I do for a living.”

“Not well enough clearly or you would know the answer. How did one make the jump from Baltimore P.D. to N.C.I.S. with such subpar skills?”

“Answering my question with a question? Deflecting won’t work with me. I use the same tactic all the time on the job. Nice to know you’re doing your own research on me too though.” He winks at her as he takes another sip of his drink.

“For the case-”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night. Now my question?”

Their gazes lock and the power struggle begins between them, sizing the the other up, their pupils dilating and contracting with each breath. Finally giving in, Ziva breaks away to look at the bar door closing before her eyes settle on the ice in her drink, her hand fidgeting with the straw.

“After serving in the Israeli army I joined Mossad at my own volition. I advanced quickly through the ranks, earning awards for my exemplary skills and talents. I had just become a handler when I decided to leave and come to America.”

“What made you do that?”

“My brother.”

Tony stares at her intently but does not push the subject. He can sense she is having difficulty discussing this. She takes a long swig of her drink before continuing.

“He cautioned me about promoting any higher, said I did not know what I was getting myself into or who I was really working for. As a handler, I was given more access and told more secrets, but I still had some plausible deniability in the big picture of how Mossad operates. It was not until he was killed three months later that I realized he was right.”

Tony’s eyes study her body language as she tells him the bits and pieces of what seems like a much longer and much more painful story than what she is letting on. He doesn’t push the subject, instead letting the silence fall comfortably between them.

“You did not ask me.” She comments after a few moments pass and the drinks lessen in their glasses.

“What's that?”

“The one question everyone wants to know; how he died.”

He doesn’t meet her eyes as he finishes his drink.

“I figured if you wanted to share you would.”

She twirls the last of her mojito in her glass, watching the clear liquid dance through the crystal ice cubes. Pausing as if she is really considering divulging the information.

“He killed a member of the secret service, Special Agent Caitlyn Todd. He was killed shortly after by what was reported as a terrorist bombing but really was Mossad cleaning up their mess.”

Tony’s whole body tenses, not only because he knew Special Agent Todd but because he remembered the bombing that occurred following her death. The reports played for days on ZNN of the horrific injuries people had suffered caused by excessive shrapnel intended to inflict the most pain. The death toll seemed to climb by the second.

“After his death I was obsessed with getting revenge. I had already lost a sister to a Hamas bombing and to have my brother taken from me the same way… I was determined to bring whoever took him from me forward. When I found out it was ordered by my own director… I could no longer remain loyal to an organization that operated that way.”

Grabbing her glass, she drains the last of her drink before slamming it back on the bar nearly causing it to shatter.

“I decided to come to America to bring justice for those who could not get justice for themselves.”

Her eyes are downcast as her fingers play with the condensation on her glass once again. Tony takes a moment to collect himself before tentatively reaching to touch her shoulder.

“Hey, I’m sorry for your loss, and I’m glad you’re here.”

She gives him a shy smile, leaning into his touch. They stare at each other for a few moments before Tony breaks the contact.

“Worked a case with Kate Todd. She was a good Agent.”

Ziva’s eyes widen in shock, not only because he knew her but that they both were affected by the same event.

“I am sorry for your loss.”

“No, I’m sorry to end your night on such a downer. Didn’t mean to bring up such painful memories.”

“It is alright. I did not mind spending it with you.”

The words fall out of her mouth before she realizes what she’s said. Luckily she is saved by a man interrupting them.

“Hey, Tony, sorry to bother you.” He leans on the bar beside him.

“No worries McInterruptus. Ziva David, this is Timothy McGee, the other and less attractive member of Team Gibbs.”

Ziva smiles at the glare he gives Tony before extending her hand.

“It is nice to put a face to the name. I read your report in the Simmons case on how the device’s design was flawed and ultimately caused his death. I was amazed by the immense detail you used and then I found out you have a degree in Biomedical Engineering from Johns Hopkins and a degree in Computer Forensics from MIT. Very impressive.”

“Oh, you’re the prosecutor Tony wouldn’t shut up about and the boss wished he would have sent me to check up on instead.”

Ziva laughs as Tony strikes McGee across the chest.

“Quiet McTattletale.”

“One in the same.” Ziva adds, still laughing.

“Well it’s very nice to meet you Ziva. Tony I hate to steal you away but Abby had too much to drink and is in the bathroom puking. Jardine is in there with her but she’s probably cleaning every surface. We’re probably going to have to carry her out.”

“I told you to watch her Probie.”

“Yeah, you try taking her drink away when she’s ranting about people who say they’re vegetarians but eat chicken.”

“Good point.”

Tony stands to leave, pushing in the chair as he does. He stops to turn to Ziva before walking away.

“Don’t move, I’ll walk you out.”

She doesn’t understand why she listens.

A few moments later Tony and McGee emerge from the back of the bar with Abby between them, each of her arms slung over their shoulders. Ziva sees a woman exit quickly from behind them, clutching her bag tightly to her as if not to touch anything. The group stops in front of her as Abby begins to babble.

“Who’s this? Tony, she's pretty. You’re very pretty.”

“Not now, Abs.”

Tony motions for Ziva to follow them and she grabs her briefcase from the bottom of the bar before walking behind them.

There is a cab waiting outside and McGee drops Abby’s arm to open the door before getting in on the opposite side. Tony struggles to keep Abby upright as she goes limp in his arms. Ziva comes up from behind to grab her other side and help get her into the car. She settles in the backseat with her head in McGee’s lap.

“Tony did you get her number? Get her number!” Abby calls out as Tony moves to close the door.

“We have her number Abby.”

“It was nice meeting you!” McGee yells out to Ziva.

Tony finally shuts the door, letting out a loud breath, his hand wiping over his face.

“Sorry about that.”

“It is quite alright. It is nice to see people taking care of other people.”

“Do you want to share a cab?”

“No, I actually live right down there.” She points to a grey building a little ways down the street.

“Oh so you do come here often.”

They both laugh at the implication.

“Well I guess this is goodnight then.”

“Yes, goodnight Tony.”

“Goodnight.”

He extends his hand and she meets him in the middle. The touch lingers for a little while too long, sparking electricity in them both. After several moments, Ziva finally breaks away, turning on her heel to walk away. He watches her walk until she makes it to her building, his eyes enjoying the way her legs strut in her tight pencil skirt. She pauses to wave to him before unlocking the door and going in. Tony turns to heads home, feeling excited for the first time in his career to attend court.

#TIVA #TIVA fanfic #Ziva David #Tony DiNozzo #AU #yes this will be continued #my wiritng #SCREAMING BECAUSE THIS IS FINALLY DONE

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anteroom-of-death · 5 years ago

Text

Life, for Dummies p8

a/n: *tyra banks voice* the master, but make it domestic. sorry all, tumblrs tags didn’t populate part 7 in the tags. but hey! lemon! romance! a little spice...

You woke with a curious yet lazy start, the smell of coffee and other breakfast-y type scents were drifting in your bedroom door. The sun was lazing in and your ceiling fan was twisting around giving you a hypnotic white noise. You dreamt the Master had returned for you, that he was genuinely sorry, it was confusing, but you shook it off and enjoyed the morning.

Then it dawned on you: the scent of coffee? Food? How could that happen. You were in another room. You were suddenly in not such an enjoyable mood. You grabbed your screwdriver and crept out to the kitchen and found him at your table, he was reading a well-worn copy of 50 Shades of Grey.

“Morning, I thought you’d never wake! Coffee, just how you like it. I also made those things you like.” He smiled and placed it down, clearly on best behaviors. He pointed out his place setting for you, complete with daffodils and a paper towel folded like a swan.

“Is Gallifrey a hood in Boston?” You querched up and eyebrow and eyed up the coffee tentatively. He was good, remembering that you needed coffee for any basic functions to happen. You smelled it and took a few cautious half sips. His coffee was better tasting than you remembered.

“Hmm?” He asked, clearly confused. You indulged him in an elaboration. “You are certainly brown-nosing like a little Masshole.”

“That slang for people that are from Massachusetts, yeah?” He seemed a tad more confused, but he got the gist of the sentiment.

“Finding your inner goddess?” You lightly mocked his choice of reading material.

“Oh yes! I was out of touch with her for a while...I think I might go back to my chemises and corsets…”

You’d seen Missy from a distance once when you landed on a planet and she was looking for hats on the Planet of the Hats, you could admit, Missy was an experience from the ten seconds you saw her and the fact she vaporized a shopkeeper for having nothing that matched her favorite overcoat.

You shook your head and gave a chuckle.

“I’d like to see it.”

“Come with me, and maybe you will…” He alluded smoothly.

You pointed at your mug of coffee, “I haven’t finished my coffee, therefore, I’m still thinking.” You were firm. You still didn’t know exactly what to think of this all. You were still very angry and very hurt, yet exchanging pleasantries with him like it was no big deal. There was a slight tension in the air, but it wasn't an overt cloud of angst. Perfectly palatable, and doable. Enjoyable even.

“Alight.” He gave you some time and went back to his reading.

The food was phenomenal, you had to give them that. He even drizzled a little bit of maple syrup in the corner of the plate into a smiley face. Cute.

He was begging in the only way he knew how. As much as you would enjoy him begging more, last night's awkward display of the man who has all the words choking at the idea of sentence formation had you in enough stitches for several lifetimes.

You may be a tad bit of a sadist, but you weren’t that big of one.

You let out a sigh, “You have to promise me that you’re all in. You’re not going to pull more nonsense. You’ll also let me put in my two weeks.Maybe even go through a bit of couple’s therapy if need be. You will also not wig out if we meet her again. You. Are. All. In…” You laid out your demands in a succinct voice.

“Lasty, you are not going to take that damned collar off me again once it's on. You are in this ride for the long run. No backing out for any reason…” You forced yourself to say it with a blank face to let him know that you were dead serious.

“All but the therapy and you got yourself a deal.” He offered his hand out as a deal signer. You took it.

“Man’s only as good as his word.” You muttered, but meant for him to hear.

He smiled at the deal.

“I can be domestic around here!” He clapped.

“What?” You staggered back.

“Two weeks of work? And I can show you how good I can be…” The words played out like he was making fun of himself being at the mercy of another.

You rolled your eyes and smiled and rubbed your temples. Your usual migraine was flaring up. You just let him bustle around as you went about your day, clearly in servicing behaviors. Just because the Master was in town didn’t give you the benefit of getting sloppy with your days.

After you got done with everything you sat down and started drafting your resignation letter, casually posing the question, “‘You and our team were a pleasure to work alongside of…’ or ‘It has been a pleasure working alongside the whole sales team…’”

“Pardon?” He paused his tinkering on your security system.

“My resignation letter. Have you ever heard of one?” You dragged slightly, it’s not like Time Lords has Human Resource Management. Insane bureaucrats that they were…”What sounds more diplomatic?”

“The first…” He walked over and peered over at your laptop, peering over to parse through your letter. “Yeah..that is definitely better. Sounds more chipper.”

“Thanks.”

You went on and worked.

Monday eventually came and you printed your letter out and delivered it to the boss.

“Furthering your education?”

“Oh, yeah. Got accepted to a university in Galloway.” You said. The Master thought it would be funny for the play on words due to a Master’s Degree being something a human could earn and Galloway being a place and sounding like Gallifrey. You let him keep it in. As if it would be verified and you’d actually be here to suffer the repercussions. A funny little white lie to fraud you over until you died at the hands of some alien in another galaxy. No big deal.

“Well, congrats! Didn’t know you were looking to further your education! We’ll miss you around here…” Your heart fell a bit, the staff here were all so nice and had that small town charm but none of the artifice. You let yourself ride the wave of guilt. You hoped this would all be worth it.

The rest of the week got tense. Sure the days were oddly peaceful and uneventful, but you two were getting handsy in ways you weren’t quite trusting of him yet. Simple brushes and hands laid on thighs. Quite scandalous, but you even shared the couch together as you watched a movie one night and shared the same snack bowls. He was still the same frighteningly attractive dunce he always was.

What was also on your mind was he was really trying to atone for his poor behavior, your abandonment and anything else that might come to mind. It was beyond astounding that a man would and could try to correct his behavior, especially when you knew what he was capable of in times of casual cruelty.

Your mind ached from the sheer amount of mental gymnastics and working through your thoughts and coping.

But you did enjoy a roomie on his best behaviors.

Soon your two weeks were up however, and you came home and shrugged off your clothes and slipped into a shower. The sweethearts treated you to sparkling wine and mini cupcakes, and even a little gift basket filled with anything a student back to school might need, even a few gag gifts.You nearly cried, but the adrenaline of traveling the stars again won out until midway through scrubbing your scalp. You were so excited for the stars and living a truly exciting life again, but damn if Earth gives her best shot at giving you a reason to stay. You finished up both your crying jag and your shower routine and walked out of the bathroom to go get dressed.

He was drinking a cup of tea in the living room and glanced your way, his eyes grew and got covered in lust, and it happened quicker than you could fathom. The mug fell and sploshed all over the ground as he rushed over to you and pinned you to the wall, shaking your shelves a bit. His mouth found yours as he bit your top lip ferociously. He reached under your towel and slightly worked at you until your jaw went slack and a moan rattled out of you, “I’ve waited too long to touch you, pet.” He huskily moaned. You barely tried to fight it, “I’m not letting you go now, you’re all mine now.” He pinned you to the wall with his hand and undid his belt, “Enough playtime.” He was already hard and tossed your legs up around his waist, you obliged and instinctively wrapped them around his torso, clinging for dear life.

He thrusted up into you and took you in the most aggressive ways, if not for the shock and the thought of “Oh no! I forgot to lotion my legs!” You would have been into it more, but the dryness of your legs was distracting, as they were wrapped around each other and you could feel them sloughing against one another.

He was claiming you in the most primal way. It was more violent as he penetrated your mind, filling you with images of all the other ways this past two weeks he wanted to have you and fill you with his cum.

The one involving your wrought iron fire pit spade to your bare ass was avante-garde and fascinating enough to say the least. That one threw you off the stress of your lotion-less legs.

He pulled your hair by the top and forced you to stare straight at him, “Precocious little slut thought she can forget about her Master, didn’t she?” He pressed his throbbing cock deeper still into you, “Not anymore.” He continued to use you and glare at you with a wicked glint behind rivers of lust.

“Who do you belong to?” He asked, grunting, the question wasn’t a question at all, but demanded an answer.

You sputtered out in an almost hypnotized shout, “You! I’m yours!” It was so painful, but it felt so great to say it and own it yourself. You were minutely processing life at the moment.

“Call me by name…” The voice was lower and less staticy.

“M-m-Master!”

“Again!”

“Master!”

“Can’t hear you, pet…”

“Master!” You shouted as it clicked deep inside your skull and you felt him spasm inside you. Overwhelmed by this, he let you go off the wall with his hold and relaxed before petting your hair and smiling serenely.

“You did good…” he gently whispered into your chest as he leaned in a bit, letting himself finish up and leak out of you.

“Uh, thank you?” You were still a tad ready to go, but it seemed he was going to tease you and leave you wanting more. Not that you minded. You could deal with that later on yourself. You were throbbing and wet and your hair was still wet, you noticed.

He got back up and slyly gave you a sideways look, “Turn around and face the wall, little pet.”

You did it and he muttered, “Good girl.” You felt something slightly weighted go around your throat and his hands work some fabric deftly. He spun you around and marched you straight back into the bathroom by your arm pinned to your back, your towel was off and you looked shaken.

But your collar was back on, and it felt strange that it was ever off. He let your hand go as you glided towards the mirror and looked at yourself, stroking both it and your collar curiously, your thoughts flew many more miles away.

You really had thrown yourself back into this. You trembled a bit, nearly in tears because of the simple gesture. Who would have known that a damn collar would have made you feel so many emotions at once?

You had a feeling he knew…

You looked back at his casual, yet pantsless figure looming in the back. He was standing there, as proud as can be, just marveling in the fresh chaos he’d breathed into you. He had broken through what walls you erected and won.

“Why don’t I reclean you. You had been freshly bathed, yeah?” He offered kindly.

He drew you a bath and massaged you down and made sure there was no lasting damage done to you, he even got you a fluffy fresh towel and wrapped you in it and let you alone with your thoughts. (How dangerous!)

You sat in there for what seemed like ten eternities and finally it dawned on you: You were his. You always were his. No amount of time or space or anything would come between you two and the bond forged. It was bizarre to come think of, but the sheer fact that he owned you in such a way, was freeing. Of all the people in the universe, your only equal was this G-dlike being who was off in your house, doing heavens knows what.

And he was crazy about you.

You let out delirious laughter and pulled yourself off the ground and walked out of the bathroom for the second time that night.

He was sitting on your couch with a fresh bowl of popcorn, wrapped in your couch blanket. He looked completely normal. Like he was any other guy, harmless. Pants back on.

“I thought we could finish that wild documentary about the gay redneck zookeeper an the woman who took ‘eat the rich’ a little too to the heart!” He stretched out and offered you a place at his side, you slid in and grabbed a hand of it.

The Master was very good at making popcorn. He did something wild with coconut oil and salt and sugar that made the flavor pop into it. He also somehow managed to pop every kernel every single time. It was the most disconcerting thing about him, if you were completely honest with yourself. No one should wield that kind of power.

“You’re still a rat bastard…” You muttered as you slightly started to drift off.

“Oh, I know.” He confirmed.

You fell asleep glued to his side as some man rode off into the sunset on a jet ski and Eye of the Tiger zagged on.

You vaguely remember stirring gently when he lifted you up and placed you in bed, “Sweet dreams, my pet…” you heard in a sleep-drunk haze. “You have all the rest you need…”

In your mind you heard as you finally got into a deep slumber. “You’re going to need it…”

#personal #i wrote this #i made this #dhawan!master #dhawan!master x reader #the master #master x reader #doctor who self insert fiction #lemon #yummy yummy lemon #fanfic

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fiction-in-my-blood · 4 years ago

Text

Switching Sides: Part 6 (HLITF)

if anyone possibly wants to get on a tag list I’d be happy to make one

👉 @theshove 👈

If you wanna catch up, Part 5 is right here! Happy reading :)

Premise: Growing up in a life of crime in a Japanese mafia, Atsuko Motomori has seen enough injustice to last her a lifetime. To try and give back to the universe her family has taken so much from, she dreams of being a detective from a young age. Her twin, sharing her disgust for her father and many uncles, just wants an ordinary life away from the crime, paing and suffering. Instead, she wants to be in the spotlight with the soft notes she makes with her cello. In their escape of 2015, on their coming of age birthday, they must split ways, never to be together ever again. If one was found, they didn’t want the other dragged down with them. Atsuko, having changed her name and appearance as best she can without a scalpel, sets off to start her life of car chases and arrests.

Four years in a seemingly dead-end police station in the middle of nowhere, being passed over time after time for promotion, Atsuko finally gets a shot at her dream, having been sent to an academy for the best candidates in the country by her boss who had always kept an eye out for her. After discovering her boss may have made her bite off more than she could chew, Atsuko must become the slave of a dominating instructor!? Who so just happens to be the captain of the most famous police unit in Japan? Not to mention a total knockout! Will Atsuko finally achieve her dream? Or will her new instructor put her through the wringer?

Warnings: Language, Reference to sexual activity, Forceful nature, description of traumatic child abuse.

~~~~~~

It had been a few days since Kaga went to negotiate with the mafia by himself. Ayumu seemed to have forgotten all about whatever he was trying to accuse me of, which only made being around him more nerve-wracking. I wondered if he was trying to gather evidence against me, but why would he waste his time doing that when we had a mission to prepare for? Well, knowing him, he could probably do both at the same time. Not that I would ever show the fact I was impressed by his skills- his head would grow two hat sizes bigger- but he was an efficient detective.

The mission in question was my undercover assignment with Instructor Kaga. As his girlfriend. In the moment, I was sat in the Monitor Room, partaking in an investigation briefing, surrounded by all of the special instructors.

"Kaga and Atsuko will go undercover as a couple to tail Takeda." Soma reminded us all, showing a picture of the subject of the mission.

"I've hacked into Takeda's cell phone GPS so I'll be able to find him," Shinonome announced. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why I didn't have a smart phone with connection to external sources except for cell service. It was easy enough to hack into, especially for a man like my father who has endless amounts of money for tech-wizards to find me.

"The target is currently south of Main Street. According to Ishigami's information, it's likely he's heading to a luxury sweets bar."

‘What the hell is a politician doing at a sweets bar?’ I quizzed myself, forgetting all about the fact he was a suspected criminal.

"It's a couple’s place. You two won't stand out at all. This is Takeda's favourite retreat." Maybe mistaking my confusion for worry, Ishigami ensured it was a place where we wouldn't seem suspicious.

"In other words, it's likely a place where he holds secret meetings." Shinonome brought up the answer to my thoughts and I nodded in response.

"I've got the gist of it. Let's go, Atsuko." Immediately after saying my name, my instructor had his arm wrapped firmly around my shoulders. He laughed at me as he usually did, but he wasn’t normally this close. I could smell the cigarette smoke in his breath, mixed in with the fresh scent of mint.

‘Ri-Right, we're a couple from now on.’ I sighed to myself. ‘Well, at least he won't bully me for a bit.’ Trying to lift my nervous spirits, I reminded myself why I was here in the first place.

"Motomori, good luck." Ayumu, who hadn't really spoken to me since our confrontation in the Staff Room, spoke up. My gaze darted to his, but he seemed unaware of any unease he had caused me.

"I wish you the best of luck." Soma chimed in to break our eye contact.

"Kaga, I've said this countless times, but acting on your own accord is-." Ishigami could hardly get in a sentence before Kaga brushed him off.

"I'm well aware. You don't have to tell me." Sounding like a bored kid, the Captain walked out of the room, taking me with him by his grip still around my shoulders.

~~~~~~

The sweet bar we arrived at was chic and the lighting was dim. There were fish tanks in the walls and champagne on almost every table. I couldn't help but grimace at all the fancy people sitting around us. This was the type of place my father liked to take us if he ever let us out. Usually we were an excuse to get cops off his tail or stop any suspicions.

"This is the place Takeda holds his secret meetings?" I spoke in a low voice, not wanting to draw attention from anyone eavesdropping.

"Don't use that name anymore." All Kaga could do was criticise me for my loose tongue.

He and I were standing in the entrance, waiting to be seated. I forced myself to look around the shop, not wanting to seem restless in the stuffy atmosphere. Doing so, I noticed a man whose photo I had been studying. It was Takeda, sitting on a table in a far corner of the room.

"Kaga, over there." Trying to seem more friendly and regard him more casually, as I was told in the briefing, I tried to get my instructor's attention.

"No. Do as you were told in the briefing." Not accepting that as personal enough, he whispered in my ear as we were directed to a table in the back. I grumbled a little, but gave it a go anyway.

"Hyogo. That better?" Although it took a second, I was able to force the name out of my mouth.

"It could be better." He smirked as we passed behind Takeda. As we did, I noticed a blind spot in the corner of my eye, which I was sure my partner had also noticed.

When we were seated, Kaga removed the hand he had around my waist. "Okay, call the shop and ask for Takeda. Act like you're a reporter." He reminded me of the plan. I was meant to lead the politican away so that the Captain could plant a listening device.

"Sure thing." I whipped out my phone and called the sweet bar. Eventually, Takeda made his way to the phone at the counter.

"Hello, this is Takeda." The politician announced and Kaga got up to approach his table. Goto's team was busy distracting the staff from going over to Takeda's table so that Kaga wasn't spotted.

"Hello, sir, sorry for the sudden call. I'm a reporter with Toho News." I watched as all of the members in the team in the bar worked seamlessly. Kaga was quick to plant the device and gave me a nod when he returned. "Well, there has been a rumour about you’re having an affair with a certain actress." Keeping my voice upbeat, the suspect quickly hung up after having a go at me for wasting his time.

"That was more nerve-wracking than I thought." I breathed a sigh of relief as I put my phone back in my bag, glad I hadn't made a mistake like accidentally blabbering our entire plan to the man we were tracking.

"You did good." The blunt compliment was a little surprising, seeing as it seemed like the instructor could only ever see my faults. A small smile graced my lips as I saw Takeda take his seat.

Pushing an earphone in his ear, Kaga looked at me to hide the fact he is listening in on the suspect. As I decided not to distract him, Kaga started talking about the menu. I was sure it was to make us look less inconspicuous, so I quickly played along.

"Well, they're sweets, so I'm sure I'd like just about anything." I smiled up at him as he was sitting next to me with the menu in one hand. We were sitting in a booth, allowing us the view of the whole room. Despite all the space, we were pushed up against each other, Kaga's hand on my hip. Even though I had never been on a date before, I was surprisingly comfortable in this situation. Maybe it was the excitement of the mission, but I was actually enjoying myself.

After we've ordered, Kaga stroked my cheek softly while we waiting. "You have a weird smile." He commented and it instantly flattened. I had heard from Naruko that my smile when I was hungry to work is a little... off-putting. She said I looked like a villain from a kid’s movie, which doesn't really instil me with confidence.

"Well, I was excited." I pouted, crossing my arms on the table. Looking around at all the other couples, I noticed how close they were as well. I was trying to act like a girlfriend, but I had never done it before. I became a little disheartened.

That was until Kaga grabbed my chin, gently guiding me to look at him again. "Oh yeah, what're you excited about?" The evil grin on his face made it clear he was teasing me.

"This is my first investigation," I stated bluntly, trying not to blush as our faces were so close. I couldn't pull my gaze away from him.

Suddenly, our waiter returned with our food and I diverted my eyes from my instructor. Kaga stabbed his cake with a fork and turned towards me.

"Open up." He whispered in my ear, bringing the piece covered with cream to my mouth. I worried he might carelessly shove it down my throat in an effort to punish me in someway or another, so I wasn't all that happy to follow his order.

"Hold on, promise you won't choke me." I was hesitant at first, but the look on his face forced me to open my mouth. He gently fed me the cake and it was actually quite nice.

As I'm fascinated by the flavour, Kaga got my attention with a simple "Hey". When I looked up from the food in front of us, my instructor's face was right in front of mine. The closeness brought me back to everything Naruko had said about him, and I couldn’t help but blush.

‘He's more handsome up close.’ I couldn't help the thought from crossing my mind as he started drawing closer. Before I know it, he has gently pressed his lips on mine. I hadn't even thought that was a possibility in the situation.

‘Th-That was my first kiss.’ I was wide-eyed as he drew back, swiping his finger along my lip and licking the cream that came off it. ‘I don't think I'm breathing.’ I reminded myself to do as such as I stared at him.

"That's fairly good. The sweetness is perfect." He smirked down at me.

"Y-You j-just..." Stumbling over my words, I couldn't stop looking at him.

"If you're not going to eat it, then give it to me." Kaga gradually ate his way through all of the sweets in front of us. I was too shocked to protest to my half being eaten.

Forcing myself to think about something else, I remembered the night I brought him his midnight snack. ‘He must have a sweet tooth.’ I thought back to the two pots of mousse he wolfed down that night.

Suddenly, he put his fork down and his finger on his ear where he had the earpiece. "The woman." Directing my attention back to the table, I glanced over and was in shock of who it is.

Juna.

My sister's birth name echoed in my brain as I felt an arm gently wrap around my waist and pull me towards the man I was sitting with. My mouth went dry and my eyes felt a little dewy. Even though she had a lot of makeup on, I could tell it was my twin sister. It was that distinctive dark green hair she had pinned back. She hadn't noticed me yet as she sat at the politician's table.

‘Dad must be working with him.’ I regained my composure as I remembered why I was here.

"Don't look." One hand on my waist, Kaga grabbed my hand with his other. "Your voice will be easily picked up. Don't get flustered." Maybe realising how shocked I was when I saw the woman dressed in fine clothing entering the shop, Kaga tried to silence me so that I wouldn't talk over the two. His lips were so close to my ear, I could feel them brushing against my lobe as he whispers. I nodded several times, but he didn't let go of my hand.

‘I need to go to the bathroom. What if she sees me and says something without realising?’ I began to panic as all the worst-case scenarios flood into my brain.

"She looks like a normal woman, but she's an intermediary," Kaga informed me, thinking I have no idea what was going on.

‘I know full well what he's using her for.’ I spat internally, trying to ease my hand out of his. "I'm going to the bathroom." I jumped up quick enough so that he had no time to decline me. On my way, my sister's gaze fell to my silhouette disappearing through the door.

In the empty restroom, I clutched the sink basin to try and calm my breathing. ‘Okay. Game plan. So, if she's seen me, she'll probably follow me in. I can explain to her then, but we can't spend too much time in here together or Kaga will get suspicious.’

Suddenly, the door openen and I spun around to see who it was.

"Katsumi." My sister gasped my birth name, running over and throwing her arms around my neck. I was frozen stiff, not knowing what to do.

"Juna, I heard that you quit and then this guy called me from a payphone. What happened to you?" My worry overflowed as I pulled back and held her hands to make sure she was tangible.

"He found me at a concert a few months ago. Then, a couple weeks ago, he pulled me off the street. I was so scared." She was teary-eyed by now, but I held her cheeks to try and catch her tears.

"It's okay. I can help you. I'll help you get out." I commanded as her gaze fell to the floor. She looked so lost, so scared and broken, it seemed like the only expression I ever saw on her face in person. Those emotions and feelings were the only constants in our lives, the familiarity of them all too nostalgic. Although, not the good kind.

"But how, Katsu? It's not like he's eased security." Juna was a mess as she explained how little time she got alone.

"Look, I got into an academy to become a detective. I won't tell you everything because it'll just put you in danger, but I'm on a mission right now." I explained.

"For Takeda." She nodded in understanding.

"Right. If this ties to dad, I can find a way to get you out of there. Meet me as this address this weekend. It's a safe place, I promise." I wrote an address down for a cafe I knew was outside of our father's territory. "We can talk more there. But, I need to go now or I'll look suspicious." I hugged her one more time as she stared down at the napkin I had pulled from our table.

"Katsumi," Juna called out as I reached for the door handle. I turned back to see her smiling. "I missed you." The words made me feel like my heart was breaking into even smaller pieces than they already were to let her go back to that man. With a heavy sigh, I smiled back.

"I missed you too."

~~~~~~

Once I returned to our table, Kaga didn't seem very happy. I explained that, even though she had followed in after me, the woman sitting with Takeda didn't talk to me. It didn't take long for Juna to clean herself up and return to the table.

"What are they saying?" Hoping to ease the anger from my instructor, I spoke in a low tone.

"They seem to be setting up a private meeting involving the Prime Minister. But does he really have anything to do with this?" Kaga's expression became severe as it seemed like we're uncovering a government conspiracy.

"What do you think they're planning on doing?" I was quiet, not trying to impede on the investigation.

"There's been some reports of strange monetary movements recently. That could be in exchange for national secrets." He whispered in my ear and my heart raced.

‘Dad getting involved in government secrets? Oh my god, what is he planning?’ I bit my lip, my eyes darting around, trying to figure out what my sister was talking about.

"It has to be someone else, not the Prime Minister. There must be some scheme." Not believing the prime minister could be corrupt, Kaga went on to explain that they're talking in code to set up a meeting. I had been out of the ‘family business’ for so long, I didn't think there was any way I could help to decode what they said. That would be awfully suspicious as well, especially since our conversation will be sent to Shinonome for decoding.

Suddenly, Kaga stopped talking and I peered up at him for answers. "Seems like they're bumping the meeting up to tonight." He announced quietly and I got the gist of what he was suggesting. "We're going to tail Takeda and track down the others." As Kaga explained that, Takeda and Juna stod up, splitting up. My instructor callsd Shinonome so we could continue to track the politician's GPS and follow him.

"Let's go." Sliding the phone back into his pocket, I stood up and Kaga slipped an arm around my waist once more.

‘He seems too used to this.’ I gazed up at his profile as the growing awareness of my racing heart pounded in my ears. On our way out, I saw Juna getting into a car on the sidewalk just outside the shop. I couldn't help but let my eyes wander to her and our gazes click together. Her expression was somewhat sad and I could see the panic in her eyes as the man driving yelled at her to get back in the car. She looked from him and then back to me, and I worried Kaga would notice the way she stared at me. That knowing gaze boring into me. I mouth to her that she would be safe before she was pushed into the car without anyone noticing me.

~~~~~~

After following the directions Ayumu gave us, we finally saw Takeda, who I now noticed had two men by his side.

‘They could be dad's people.’ I thought, staring intensely at the back of their heads. This looked a little suspicious due to their muscles and tightly shaved heads. Having seen my sister was okay, I had a new spark in my heart to do well in the investigation.

Suddenly, maybe feeling eyes on his back, Takeda seemed a little hyperaware. Scared he was going to turn around, I pulled on Kaga's blazer and pushed myself up against a glass building.

"What're you-?" Maybe taken aback by my sudden forwardness, my instructor glared down at me.

"He's looking right at us." With my face hidden from them all, I frowned up at him, speaking in a whisper.

With this new piece of information, Kaga trapped me in his strong arms. "H-Hey now." I began to panic, not realising this was the situation I was getting myself into.

"Relax, you're so stiff." He grunted as my face was buried in his chest. "If you give us up now, this was all meaningless." With those words echoing in my skull, I swallowed my pride and stared up at him. His expression was stern, having his back to the men so they couldn't see. Then, he ran a hand through my hair. My breathing hitched as his lips touch my temple. I gulped to try and calm myself down as his hand trailed from my cheek to my neck and then to my chest, reaching for the buttons on my blouse.

‘Is that bit necessary?’ By now, my cheeks had flared up beyond belief.

"Don't take your eyes off Takeda." With his head nestled in my hair, I was able to take peeks at Takeda, who had now started walking about.

"He's gone." My voice was shaky as Takeda disappeared into an alleyway. Kaga broke away from me and I breathed a sigh of relief.

"That was quick thinking." He grumbled as we started walking again. Through all of it, I remembered I had initiated it. All I could do is make quiet noises in response.

‘You have to get used to this, Atsuko. This is what undercover is like.’ I told myself off for getting so excited as we slowly trailed the steps of the politician.

As we were about to turn the corner, Kaga stopped. I looked up at him in confusion as I noticed the crease in his brows. "I've got a bad feeling. We're going another way." He turned suddenly and, holding my hand, he pulled me along with him. As I stumbled over my heels that I wasn’t used to wearing, I kicked a bottle and the clashing sound vibrated in the silent street. "What're you doing, moron?" Kaga glared back at me as I regained my balance.

"Well, you just pull-."

Before I could finish complaining, someone jumped out of the shadows, brandishing a knife in one hand.

"Die, Kaga!" The man yelled out, lifting the knife above his head.

"Instructor!" I pointed the man out as I jumped in front of Kaga, punching the man just under his ribcage and grabbing his wrist. Shaking the knife out of his hand, the man fell to the floor. Kaga quickly kicked the knife away, asking the man who he was sent by.

With my heart racing from the adrenaline rush, the man tried, and was successful in making a break for it. He disappeared around the same corner as Takeda. I had loosened my grip so Kaga could interrogate him to heart's content, but didn't think about how that would turn out.

"Missed him," Kaga grumbled, watching the man flee.

‘I should call Shinonome and get him to track Takeda.’ Finding the need to fix what I messed up, I pulled my phone out of my bag.

"What're you doing?" Kaga turned back around to see me typing out the number. I was about to explain, but the instructor cut me off. "Too late. He's probably already noticed we're tailing him." Kaga sighed and my heart dropped. Disappointed in my clumsiness, I apologised.

"I don't need apologies." Kaga was scowling at me, probably calling me a useless moron.

"I lost sight of Takeda and ruined all our work." My annoyance was most likely displayed on my face. I bowed my head despite myself, but Kaga only stared at me. Noticing the time, I saw that it was long past the last train.

‘Am I really that useless?’ I sighed to myself, spacing out at how much I screwed up. How the hell was I supposed to save my sister when I couldn't even stay silent enough to follow someone?

"Your leg." He suddenly announced and my gaze jumped to him. I saw him looking at my leg, so I follow his gaze to see a slice of red on pale skin.

‘Oh... The blade must have hit me when it fell.’ Blood trickled from my shin. "It's fine, I can walk." I sighed, more annoyed than in pain.

"I can't leave you here." Seemingly ignoring me, Kaga offered me support to walk. I gave in, not wanting to reject my instructor.

"Are we going to the dorms?" I asked, a little embarrassed. It felt like I was making one mistake after another.

"My apartment's closer from here." His exasperated expression was so close to my face as I hobbled beside him.

"Your apartment?" I yelled out in shock, worried about being alone with him in his personal space.

"Don't shout in my ear." He complained and I quickly shut up.

~~~~~~

Kaga's apartment was much more upscale than I expected it to be. ‘How much does a Public Safety Detective make, anyway?’ I awed at all the expensive furniture and worried about bleeding over his floors. My instructor told me to sit on his leather sofa and I try to angle my leg where I wouldn't damage it. He pulled a first aid kit out of somewhere and kneeled in front of me to lift my long skirt.

"I-I can clean it myself, thanks." I panicked as he cradled my ankle in his hands, moving it around to see if I had caused any further damage.

"Quiet..." He grunted and I shut up, scared to anger him so much he kicked me out without warning.

As he fixes up my leg, a sharp pain shooting up my leg from the antiseptic, I couldn't help but think about my sister. She has to be okay. She's useful to him. I bit the tip of my thumb when another sharp pain made my leg jerk.

"Hey!" I yelped, too much in my own head to remember what was going on.

"I'm going to put this on." His hands came to a stop on my calf as he put on the gauze and bandages. As he stares at his handy work, I peered into his face. He looked interested in something. When I was about to ask, he started poking and pinching my skin.

"H-Hey! What're you doing?" I jumped from the sudden action, slightly ticklish from his finger gliding along my skin, a sensation I wasn’t not used to.

"I'm reducing swelling." He looked somewhat satisfied at the softness of my leg.

"More like inducing it." I pouted, looking away as I crossed my arms.

Suddenly, his hand moved further up, towards my thigh. "Ha-Hang on. This is sexual harassment!" I yelled, pushing his hand back.

"Hush. Stop with the shouting. I'm enjoying the feeling." His serious glare shot up at me.

"Does it look like I care? Hands off." I held his hands away from my body as he frowned.

"I'm going to take a bath. I expect you to have dinner waiting." He stood up and I almost snorted at the request.

"You expect me to cook you food?" I raised an eyebrow. He may have patched me up, but my leg still killed.

"Is there anyone else here?" He questioned, his concerned frown returning. "You can use whatever's in the fridge." He looked down at my shocked face. "Or would you rather get in the bath with me?" A teasing smirk played on his face and I jumped up.

"No thank you!" I cheered, waddling over to the kitchen on the other side of the room.

Opening up the refrigerator, I couldn't say I was surprised by what I saw.

‘Well, he's definitely a sweet tooth.’ Remembering all the instances of Kaga before now and all the sweet rice cakes he ate, I couldn't help but smile. ‘I guess you really can't judge a book by its cover.’ I laughed, thinking how a man like Kaga could enjoy sweet things so openly. There were very little ingredients that could be used for a real meal, not to mention the absence of any vegetables. I hurried to make a recipe of meat wrapped in seaweed dumplings. I praised myself for being lucky for the past experience I had in a Japanese kitchen.

~~~~~~

As I'm finishing up the dumplings, Kaga returned from his bath. His hair was wet. ‘Wow... He is... Just, wow.’ I couldn't help but let my mind wander as I saw the sex appeal he was exerting. He frowned, somewhat perplexed by me not saying anything.

"Hey, what're you just loafing around for?" He jabbed and I jumped out of my trance.

"You have no vegetables in your fridge," I commented to distract him from my staring, turning back to the dumpling I was about to finish.

"It's not like I'll die if I don't eat them." He frowned, but it was different from the times he has frowned at my mistakes.

‘Is he... Pouting?’ A blush flared up my cheeks as I thought about how he must have been as a kid at his childish comment.

"Dumplings?" He spoke up, peering over my shoulder at the food I had prepared. I tried to ignore the warmth of him on my back.

"It's the best I could come up with when you have next to nothing in your fridge," I explained, putting them all on a plate. "Don't worry, I used seaweed, so it's healthy!" I smiled, turning to him on the couch.

He stuffs one in his mouth without any complaints. Then, he returned for another, and another, and another until they're all gone.

"Well, you didn't entirely mess that up." He seemed to compliment me as I sat as well.

"I used to work at a cafe, so I learned a lot while I was there," I commented, smiling back to my time before I entered the police academy. After I ran away from home, I needed money. I was lucky enough to get the job there, and the people were all so nice. Although, maybe they pitied me for having such big dreams to become a detective.

"Where's your's?" Noticing I hadn't eaten, Kaga pulled my attention back to earth.

"Oh, I wasn't hungry." I shook my head, pulling my foot onto the sofa. I was starting to get a little uneasy, realising I was in a man's apartment. Alone. It was my first time. The thought of 'first-times' brought back the memory of our kiss and I blushed.

While I was spiralling into embarrassment, Kaga retrieved something from the refrigerator and had thrown something at me. "At least eat this." I jumped out of my thoughts to grab it, finding a sweet rice cake in my hand.

"Oh... You sure?" Thinking about how much he must love these to stockpile them, I looked up at him glaring at me.

"I've got plenty. If I run out, I'll buy more." He shrugged, falling back onto the sofa. I began to unwrap the sweet when I realised the rare packaging. Naruko was always complaining she couldn't find any. I could really care less about candy flavours, sugar is sugar, but I know finery when I see it.

"How did you manage to get so many?" I was in shock as I thought back to the contents of the fridge.

"I bought them at every store I saw them in." He explained and I was honestly shocked with how far he went.

‘Who are you and what have you done with my instructor?’ I yelled in my head as I stared at him digging into the one he brought over for himself. ‘First the first-aid, now he's feeding me a rare candy?’ I continue to stare in bewilderment.

"Give it here if you're not going to eat it. Or are you going to make me feed you like I did earlier?" He held out his hand but I quickly denied him. He laughed faintly at my blatant shock. When I turned my gaze back to him in surprise, it isn't a happy expression I see on his face. It's the same, cold stare he always shows me.

‘He does seem a little more laid back than usual... Maybe it's because this is his private space?’ Knowing I would calm down too if I was in my dorm room, I continued munching on the cake in my hands.

"Anyway, when you're done, go to bed." He commanded.

"Okay. If I could get a blanket, I'll be fine." I announced that I would sleep on the couch, but he quickly rejected me.

"You'll sleep in the bed." The kind, yet indifferent, statement was a little shocking.

"But this is your home," I argued, but it only made him tired.

"I said it's fine. I don't need the unnecessary modesty."

"I'm sure you're more tired than I am. The sofa will be difficult to sleep on." I responded stubbornly.

"I'm not tired. And you're probably a wreck mentally."

‘Well, you're not wrong there.’ I sighed to myself, not seeing the confrontation going anywhere positive.

"If you tell me you're not tired yet, I'm kicking you out." He scowled.

"No, no, thank you. I'm going." I jumped up from the sofa, not wanting to walk back to the dorms this late at night.

~~~~~~

In his bedroom, I couldn't help but look at the sofa he was going to sleep on.

"What? You're staring." He jerked his head at me and I shook mine. "Do you want me to jump into bed with you?" His suggestive comment was void when his expression didn't change.

"No, thank you," I replied bluntly, suddenly overcome with a wave of tiredness.

"Then, do you wish we could sleep together?" I could see the growing smirk on his lips as I yawned.

"I don't."

‘It might be a weird way of going around it, but he's trying to be kind.’ I think as I sit on his bed.

When the lights go out, I noticed Kaga tossing and turning for a bit before he finally relaxed. As I thought back on all the kind things he had done, and not just today, I remembered the rumour that went around.

‘He can't have killed his partner. I don't believe it.’ Because he's usually so scary, I wasn’t surprised that a rumour like that could spread so quickly.

I thought back to the scared woman I saw in the bathroom and shut my eyes, falling asleep fairly quickly. ‘I have to become a good detective like him. So I can save Juna.’

~~~~~~

In the middle of the night, I woke up with a sudden deep breath.

‘Just a dream.’ I told myself as I looked around at my surroundings and noticed they weren't what they were in my nightmare. I had dreamt about my childhood, soon after my mother had disappeared, and dad was mad. He was angrier than I had ever seen him. Luckily, Juna was at the community centre, taking music lessons. Dad, on the other hand, was screaming at a go-between for another gang.

"Why haven't you found her yet?" He roared, throwing an old vase at the man kneeling on the ground. He was beaten up and the water splashed out around him, making most of the people in the room jump. Including me, who had been peering around the corner of a door frame.

"We've followed everyone she knows. No one knows anything. It's like she disappeared into thin air!" The theatrical display the man was showing only made my father angrier.

"That's impossible! Find her or you will take her place in the dirt!" My father roared, making the man scurry out of our living room. Following the pathetic man, my father's gaze fell on me.

"You see, Katsumi. This is what happens to traitors!" My father stormed forward, grabbing my wrist and pulling me into the room. I tried to struggle, but he threw me in front of someone lying on the floor. I couldn't see his front, but there was blood oozing out of his neck. I threw myself back, not wanting to listen to the dying gurgles of the victim in front of me.

"Katsumi, you will look! Look at what your mother has caused!" My father yelled, grabbing my wrist tightly and forcing my head to look in his direction. When I tried to struggle again, he hit me. I cried out, tears already falling down my cheeks, and he eventually started taking his anger out of me.

As I sat there, panting in the dark room, I clutched the sheets to help me realise I was awake. I gulped, blinking several times to help me see through the darkness. When my heart wouldn't slow down, I crawled out of the bed and walked back to Kaga's living room, wanting to turn some lights on without waking him up.

Sitting on his couch, looking out at the city below me, I bit the tip of my thumb. I couldn't stop thinking about what my father could be doing to my sister since he found her. I looked down at my hands, using one hand to feel the smoothness of my fingertips.

I had tried to escape once. Just to see if it was possible. Of course, one of my uncles caught me and told my father. That night, he forced my hand into a pot of bubbling oil and it burned off my fingerprints, and any nerves in them. Then, to somehow scar me further, he told me the only way I could soothe the pain was washing them in the tub of boiling water next to me. With blistering hands, I remembered him telling me that if I did go missing, no one would ever be able to identify me. He wouldn't come forth and I would be buried nameless. I gulped, thinking back to the tears pouring down my sister's face as my father made her watch the feeling in my hands practically melting away.

‘I have to stop making stupid mistakes.’ I tell myself, falling back on the couch, staring up at the ceiling. As I thought about all the ways I could have done that day to make myself a better detective, I fell asleep.

#HLITF #hlitf ayumu #hlitf kaga #hlitf goto #hlitf ishigami #hlitf soma #hlitf shinonome #hlitf fanfic #voltage games #voltage fanfic #oc #ooc #her love in the force #crime #mafia #mob #police #detectives

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misssophiachase · 5 years ago

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Remember this story? If not, I don’t blame you! I have been adding (and in some cases amending) my fics and uploading to AO3 and am hoping to get a couple done because they are almost finished. Thanks to @romanoffsbite for the stunning cover : ) Click on the cover above for the link to the full story on AO3. It’s also on FF HERE

Synopsis: British Ambassador to the USA, Klaus Mikaelson, needs a babysitter to look after his daughter. Enter nanny, Caroline Forbes.

Lessons in Diplomacy - Chapter 7: Attaché

British Embassy, 3100 Massachusetts Avenue NW, Washington DC

"I know this isn't exactly what you had in mind when we discussed a date." Klaus looked at Caroline apologetically hoping that she understood. Klaus was used to his job disrupting every other facet of his life, but it had been so long since he liked someone, let alone went on a date, that he wasn't familiar with the protocol.

As if his job wasn't difficult and time-consuming enough, he also had an eight-year-old who required constant care. Darcy had woken earlier that day with a stomach ache and he'd been reluctant to leave.

Klaus had spent the past week planning their date and had made reservations at one of the best new restaurants in DC as per Rebekah's recommendation. He could have hired a sitter for the evening but given Jane had recently decided to retire from her post and Caroline was his alternate he didn't have much choice. Not seeing Caroline wasn't an option, it had already been six days since the ice hockey game and Klaus was greedy for some alone time without the peanut gallery (also known as his siblings) commenting.

"I don't know," she murmured. "At least I get fed, so that's something sort of date-like. How's Darcy feeling?" His face softened, he liked the fact she was so concerned for his daughter even though they'd only met a few times.

"Well, last time I checked she was asking the chef for some chocolate brownies, so I think we can safely say the worst of it is over," he explained.

Klaus was worried that Darcy wasn't okay with him dating Caroline given her miraculous recovery earlier. He figured it would be difficult for an eight-year-old to get their head around the fact their babysitter was also dating their father. Klaus was solely devoted to Darcy and she always came first, no matter what. That's why he thought it was important to check she was okay.

One hour earlier

"So, brownies hey?" He asked, approaching his daughter. She was lying in bed, hair in messy pigtails and wearing pajamas while watching Frozen on her iPad for what Klaus swore was the millionth time. If he was told to 'Let it Go' one more time, he'd lose it.

"I haven't eaten all day, I was hungry," she whined. Klaus took a seat next to her and ruffled her hair affectionately.

"For chocolate, Darce, really?"

"I think it's the only thing that will make me feel better," she argued. "Trust me on this, dad."

"Oh, so you're now a medical expert?" She gave him a look which meant he wasn't funny. "Everything else is okay, right? I mean, besides the stomach ache?"

"It's fine," she answered, scrunching her nose up in that adorable manner he loved. "Well, except for the lack of brownies."

"You know Caroline is coming over tonight, right?"

"Can we play together? I want to show her my new nail polish and tell her all about what Marcy Johnson did for show-and-tell. Oh, and we need to read the next chapter of The Little Prince." The fact she spoke so excitedly and seemed to genuinely like Caroline filled him with warmth.

"Well, actually she's coming to see me tonight. You know how I told you last week that I like Caroline and wanted to spend some time with her?" She nodded. "Would that be okay? I promise you can see her next time."

"As long as you promise," she smiled.

"Pinky swear," he grinned, interlacing fingers with her. He then leaned down and murmured in her ear. "How about I get Marjorie to bring you up some of those brownies, sweetheart?"

"Well, I actually brought her a little something, there's nothing worse than being stuck in bed sick with nothing to do," Caroline murmured bringing him out of his trance and handing him a brightly coloured bag.

"You really didn't have to, Caroline," he smiled warmly, thinking just how kind and considerate she was, amongst other things.

"It's nothing," she replied. "I know that she's trying to out-do Marcy Johnson on show-and-tell so I thought this might help." Klaus was beginning to think this Marcy Johnson was going to be a problem and the fact Caroline knew, and after such minimal contact, was extremely telling. She obviously mistook his silence for something else. "I know it isn't all about competition.."

"The hell it isn't," he laughed.

"Like father like daughter," she teased. "Although I've been known to get a little competitive myself, just ask Katherine about our days in the Cheer Squad." Klaus had to admit the visual of Caroline in a tiny skirt and pompoms wasn't entirely unwelcome. He coughed, attempting to regain his composure.

"How is Katherine? I asked Elijah after the ice hockey but he's like a vault, no one is getting any information from him. I always thought he would have been an absolute asset in the secret service."

"Good apparently," she murmured. "Although given your sister's interest in her designs, Katherine's workload has increased ten-fold, not that she's complaining. I've always known Katherine was talented but it's really great to see it finally acknowledged."

"That's good news," he smiled, thinking how generous Rebekah could be and happy that her best friend was the recipient.

"When I left tonight she was still at her atelier, apparently your brother was dropping past to get fitted for a suit for Saturday's reception."

"And here I thought she already had his measurements," he grinned knowingly. "So, I probably should invite you inside given this is a date and everything?"

They were still standing in the front hall and Klaus watched as Caroline shed her excessive layers of clothing to ward off the chill outside. Her blonde hair hung in loose waves around her shoulders and her creamy skin was tinged pink from the cold air.

It wasn't until the last layer, in the form of a thick, woollen scarf, came off that Klaus was stunned into silence. He'd seen her mostly in jeans and casual clothes which were flattering anyway but she'd certainly made an impression with tonight's outfit. The little, black dress fit her perfectly and highlighted every delectable curve. He felt his mouth go dry, willing himself to speak but nothing was coming out.

"What's wrong? She asked, looking down at her ensemble. "Do I have something on me?"

"No, " he stammered. "You just, uh, you look.."

"And here I thought diplomacy was about being a good conversationalist?" She smirked, her blue eyes twinkling mischievously.

"You look stunning, Caroline, not that you don't always look good because..."

"It's okay," she soothed, placing her hand over his. "Message received," Klaus mentally kicked himself thinking what an idiot he must sound like to Caroline. He planned to be confident and suave but obviously the horse had bolted on that. "So, what's for dinner?"

They were taste testing the menu for his welcome reception on the weekend and Caroline had offered to play guinea pig for the evening. Klaus much preferred her as his date than having to sit through it with Rebekah and her excessive amount of opinions.

"Just so you know, Rebekah tells me there's no foie gras or black truffles on the menu. She wanted to avoid any messiness on the night."

"Now the real Klaus Mikaelson is back," she teased. "You realize there won't be another date with me, outside or inside the Embassy if you continue to bring that up? I could talk about your form at the ice hockey game the other night if you'd prefer?"

"I know it's called a puck," he replied defensively.

"I'm glad you called though," she smiled. Klaus couldn't get over how one smile could take his breath away but Caroline wasn't like anyone he'd ever met. "It's nice to know you're not that guy who says he'll call and doesn't."

"The twenty-something-year-old, college me probably would have," he explained. "But I haven't been that guy for a very long time."

"Since Darcy was born?" Klaus knew he'd changed a lot since his daughter came into his life but he also knew that he'd matured long before that.

He paused briefly gesturing in the direction of the dining room so he could compose his answer while they walked. As they did, members of his house staff smiled and greeted Caroline personally on the way.

"Wow, I've been here so many times that people know me. Do you realize that I didn't even have to tell the security guys outside why I was here? Usually, they are so foreboding and serious but I swear I saw Ahmed crack a smile."

"You got Ahmed to smile? I'm impressed, love. Let's just say word travels fast around here, mainly due to my nosy siblings who have no filter whatsoever as you witnessed the other night," he chuckled. "Just consider yourself my personal attaché."

"Attaché for what? Last time I checked I don't have the requisite skills to be your military aide or any other aide for that matter," she laughed.

"How about we stick with Personal Attaché to the Ambassador?"

"And what exactly does the Personal Attaché to the Ambassador do, Your Excellency?"

"They stop saying Your Excellency like that because the Ambassador might lose all sense of control and want to skip dinner altogether."

"Oh I know what this is about," she purred. "You make a girl come to your house and expect her to put out. Just so you know, I'm not that easy, mister." Klaus hadn't expected the night to go there so soon and he'd be lying if that comment teamed with the cheerleader visual wasn't messing with him.

"I happen to think it will be well worth the wait," he smiled, pulling out her chair.

"Now, there's that diplomacy in action."

"The chair yes, but just so you know, my diplomacy doesn't extend to that familiar kind of language. If I'd said that to the Ukrainian Ambassador I'd be on the floor," he joked. "She has black belts in both Taekwondo and Aikido."

"Just so you know, I'm glad you only say things like that to me," she smiled, placing a chaste kiss on his cheek before taking a seat at the table. "And I'd be willing to fight the Ukrainian Ambassador for you, in case you're wondering."

"You've got to stop saying things like that, love," he murmured. "I think we definitely need to eat before I do or say something untoward." She giggled, sending him a sly smile from across the table.

Katherine Pierce Designs Inc, Cady's Alley, 3318 M St NW

"You do realize I have your measurements, right?" Katherine asked, smiling at the eldest brunette.

Elijah had called her earlier in the week to ask if she'd fit him for a new suit for the Welcome Reception. She'd agreed but also mentioned how busy she was and he'd suggested dropping past her atelier to make it easier.

"It doesn't hurt to double-check," he offered. "Plus, I brought you dinner to say thank you." He held up a brown paper bag enticingly. The combination of hunger and relief on her face was enough to tell Elijah he'd made the right call.

"I love you," she smiled, grabbing the bag excitedly before realizing what she'd said. "Oh, well, I, well you know what I mean."

"You must be starving given that response," he chuckled. "I promise I won't take any offense."

They walked inside and she cleared her table so they could eat. Elijah could tell she was tired but he didn't think she had ever looked more beautiful with her long, dark locks pulled into a ponytail, wearing simple jeans and a t-shirt combination with a measuring tape hanging around her neck as if it was an accessory.

Elijah Mikaelson was a professional and cautious person who was solely focused on his work. The fact he was so successful and wealthy was case in point. He didn't often let himself feel or get involved with anyone but there was something about Katherine Pierce that had intrigued him from the moment she spilled hot coffee all over him.

Yes, at first he was angry but decided that was due to the hot, scalding water rather than the woman who did it. She'd not only apologized repeatedly but had fitted him with a brand new suit for his meeting. Elijah didn't consider himself a clothes horse but if there was one thing he knew it was how a well-fitting suit should look and feel. And hers were not only classic, but they were also well-tailored.

"You don't have to buy another suit you realize?" She stated, clearing her plate and looking up at him curiously. "Oh come on, Elijah, I know you have like a thousand suits you could wear on the weekend."

"Well, maybe not a thousand," he joked. "And yes, maybe I could, but I want a Katherine Pierce original to mark my Washington DC Embassy debut. I also happen to know that both Niklaus and Kol would like to be fitted up as well."

"You realize I'm good but not that good, right?" She asked, mouth agape. "Especially with all the business your sister has thrown my way before the big reception for your brother. I'll be making suits until next month at this rate. Not that I'm complaining, of course, your family's generosity has been amazing."

"Well, Rebekah has her moments," he teased. "Maybe I got a little carried away." He was staring at her earnestly now, afraid to tell her how he felt, especially after such a short time but also knowing exactly what to say, he was new to all of this. He noticed a slight but adorable blush cross her cheeks.

"I like a man who gets carried away," she cooed. Elijah moved around the table, deciding that once he got to her he'd hopefully know what he was doing until his cell decided to ring and interrupt the moment.

He was so close to her now, his lips mere inches from hers. Elijah looked at her helplessly, he wasn't one to ignore calls especially if they were work-related. He noted the caller ID. It wasn't his work but he felt a sudden need to answer it.

"Answer it," she murmured, her hand brushing his arm briefly. "I'll go get your suit and we can start the fitting." He nodded, thinking his brother was going to pay for interrupting him.

"Kol? What's going on?"

"You need to get down to the hospital right now, there's been an accident."

British Embassy, 3100 Massachusetts Avenue NW, Washington DC

"So, is it a bad sign that we aborted the taste-testing to scoff Darcy's brownies in the kitchen instead?" Caroline asked, licking the remnant chocolate from her fingers while moaning about its delicious flavor. Klaus decided then and there it wasn't safe for her to do that in his presence unless sex was in their future. But given it was kind of their first date he knew that was not a possibility.

"We don't have to tell her," he replied, taking another bite. "Plus there was nothing wrong with the menu, we both just decided we wanted to binge on brownies more than canapés and whatever that crab, artichoke and brie thing was."

"Yeah, that was, uh, interesting. Is Darcy going to be upset we ate her dessert?"

"Oh, you mean my naughty daughter who was supposedly so sick with a stomach ache that she couldn't go to school today?"

"You wouldn't want to go either if Marcy Johnson was in your class," she quipped. "I had a Marcy Johnson except her name was Dana Andrews and she tried to beat me at everything."

"Is there something I should know about this Marcy Johnson you know besides her views on how boys act when they like girls?" Klaus was beginning to think he was a bad father given both Caroline and Darcy knew all about her and he had absolutely no clue. "If she is bullying my daughter..."

"Chill, Klaus," she soothed. "Marcy is just an annoying know-it-all, but we've got it in hand. Bonnie said she and Kol are taking her to the zoo next week so she'll have plenty to talk about for show-and-tell."

"It's remarkable how much you know about my daughter and her movements," he laughed. "I didn't even realize Kol was taking her to the zoo but I suppose he'll fit right in with his animal friends. It's nice of Bonnie to babysit both Kol and Darcy for me on her day off."

"You realize she likes Kol, right?" Klaus was dumbfounded. Sure, he had the tendency to miss certain things but that fairly big detail he would have known about. Well, he thought so anyway.

"No, they can't stand each other," he explained. "At first I thought it was this cute banter thing but Bonnie is way too smart to be seduced by him and we all know Kol likes to play the field too much to even consider a steady relationship, especially one with my best friend."

"I don't think excessive rambling is going to make it any less true, Klaus," she replied, rolling her eyes. "Bonnie couldn't take her eyes off him when he was playing the other night, plus she told me all about how Kol ends up in her ER all the time due to injuries. Coincidence, I think not."

"Well, I'll be damned. Is there anything else I don't know?"

"I think your sister and the bodyguard are in denial, I sat next to them at the hockey and the combustible energy between them is enough to..."

"Okay enough about my siblings and their sexual urges," he drawled. "I never thought our date would descend into a discussion about them and Darcy's know-it-all nemesis from school." As he said it Klaus, couldn't help but feel completely happy and comfortable in her presence and how things had turned out. It was as if he'd known her for years, not weeks.

"Caroline..." he murmured, his voice raspy. He ran his hands through her waves and pulled her closer, his sole focus on her lips. He was wondering if they were as soft as they looked and if they'd taste like chocolate. Klaus figured it was time to find out.

His phone rang at that exact moment. He wanted to ignore it and finally kiss her without distraction but Caroline had already pulled away from his grasp and was picking up his phone from the counter.

"It's the zoo animal," she explained holding it up so he could see the name Kol displayed on the screen. He faltered, thinking it could probably wait but the moment between them had passed and given Kol knew they had a date he figured it must be important.

"Niklaus," he said before Klaus could speak. "You need to get down to the hospital." Klaus felt sick from all of the memories it evoked, it wasn't the first call he'd had like that before.

"What's happened?"

"It's Enzo, he was shot on duty and they're not sure if he's going to make it through the night."

#yes i'm back #lessons in diplomacy #misssophiachase #klaroline fanfiction #klaroline #my writing

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unproduciblesmackdown · 5 years ago

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i was gonna send an ask like "have you considered: 'anger is a type of geography' + 4x11" and then i checked and you actually had! but if you feel like considering it More then here's a free space

oh thanks for these Layers of Allyship re: humoring my repeated [anger geography sign tapping] and checking for things and then sending me asks about it all to invite yet more Consideration.........yeah i feel like i mentioned it at least once in tags or smthing lol??? but here comes yet more consideration / giving it an In The Text post if that doesn’t exist already yet either

the Anger Is A Type Of Geography Quote From Hanif Abdurraqib in question for everyone’s reference:

anger is a type of geography. the ways out of it expand the more you love a person. the more forgiveness you might be willing to afford each other opens up new and unexpected roads. and so, for some, staying angry at someone you love is a reasonable option. to stay angry at someone you know will forgive your anger is a type of love, or at least it is a type of familiarity that can feel like love.

like, yeah sure what with winston originally talking to lauren and mafee about this and taylor Happening to walk in on it, he probably wasn’t necessarily planning to go off on his Indignant Monologue to taylor right then and there, but the fact remains that he was willing to do so, and i definitely think that that wouldn’t be the case if he didn’t have this Respect for them and think that they have respect for him in turn, and if he didn’t also think that that mutual respect is holding hands with mutually valuing each other. like, he wouldn’t say it if he didn’t think taylor might actually listen / consider what he says, and he wouldn’t even Want to say it if he didn’t give a shit about them, because he’s not just complaining about “um i simply ask for more money,” it’s about the fact he Feels Disrespected by the implied deprioritization of tmc employees and that the way this (false lol) choice is presented to them being Unfair and disingenuous. like, you could (and im sure most viewers do) interpret the other stuff he says as just him backing up his “Pay Me” argument when all he really cares about is the Pay Me part, but a) that’s not how We roll and b) doesn’t make sense with winston being just as happy as anyone else in 4x12with taylor Apologizing re: many of these 4x11 points, despite them not saying they were gonna change the Bonus situation lol, and c) it Does make sense to think that the Mutual Respect between taylor and winston matters to him due to [see: the rest of this post]

well wait lol first of all yeah sure the money Must matter to him b/c nobody could possibly be in the world of High Finance as a passion project (except for taylor apparently lmao cuz i mean we know that the Real reason they are determined to stick with hedge fundery (and involved in the first place) is b/c they are the best part of the show and elevate all the other Lesser Elements of it as well) and also we can figure that this was probably winston’s first year working a Big Time Official Job and he doesn’t have the savings that other ppl might when they’ve been in the business multiple years, and this seems to be backed up by lauren referring to him as they guy who’d be the First One Smothered by either taking a bonus cut by 40% or not getting that bonus at all until a whole other year, which, like he seems to also imply, is also Unhelpful in that surely these investment finance people turn around and invest their own finances, and Bonus Now is better than Bonus Then b/c.....interest....Long Shares.......and also just like tfw you want your job to pay you.......but anyways Seriously [next paragraph]

cuz winston *must* be working at Taylor Mason Capital b/c he really values working with taylor more than, say, wanting a job that will make him the most money, or will necessarily look the best on a resumé if he’s just looking to up his stats, b/c yeah, this is sure an unlikely opportunity for him where this is what we’re assuming is his First Fancy Job and he’s getting to be the Top Quant right out of the gate, but he must also know that like, it’s still like “oh so you were head quant at a brand new fund :/” and also he must know that there’s a Risk with said fund and he might even end up having been head quant at a new fund that burned out really quick, super impressive........and, we Know that winston *knows* how good he is at what he does, even though he keeps getting dunked on for that like he’s sooo conceited lol like. he IS that good, sorry!!!! why should he downplay it, we don’t actually see him being one of these shitheads with a fragile ego trying to prove themselves Superior or whatever.....ANYWAYS yeah the point being that, winston claiming to have a lot of offers already in the interview might very well Not be any kind of bluff, and he’d surely know that he could rise through the Quant Ranks quickly enough at some other fund even if he started out as anything but Our Main Quant at those places.......and if Getting Tf Paid Top Dollar was really his primary concern, “go with the brand new hedge fund which doesn’t have Established History / Experience / Clout and has the one big investor but who knows what’ll come next and any business that Just opened is not your safest bet even if you trust in your own skill and in that of your ceo and you Know that even if you’re not immediately destroyed, funds will be tighter / of a Lesser Amount than at a bigger established fund”.........the now-dramatic-irony of him talking about how those Tech Firms Out West pay guarantees, not bonuses.........like, when he was trying to get onboard with axe cap, he was obvs interested in trying to leverage to get Paid more, which is like, not necessarily winston wanting to be a trillionaire but also just how stupidly everyone’s supposed to like Play The Game of negotiating / leveraging / calling your employer’s bluff to get a certain starting salary / get a raise or whatever, dumb as hell baked-in Requirement........discuss your wages with coworkers gang!!! anyways. and but Also winston makes it clear when interviewing for axe cap that Working With Taylor Mason has appeal, even if he’s flippant about it, cuz he’s flippant about all of it cuz that’s his shtick here.....

like, when it’s Taylor Alone who calls him back eventually, he’s fine with meeting up with Just Them, and later on meeting up with Just Them (and the other quants, rip) again, and agrees to work in this lil basement evidently Not on axe cap premises b/c he’d been at axe cap’s offices and this is Not That Place......and yeah him talking about taylor selling axe on using his algorithm in kompenso sure implies that winston has this whole time Assumed that all of this was still ultimately in the service of axe cap.......and he was apparently fine with reporting to Taylor Alone and not getting to rub elbows with any other higher-ups, and he’s obviously pleased well enough with a “good work :)” from taylor and isn’t like “hey be sure to tell axe & co i did this singlehandedly etc” or anything, and he’s not really complaining about the whole “work in this lil basement Not at axe cap hq with taylor mason dropping in at least once to check on you and that’s about it” situation, which obviously is hardly that “You’re A Valued Axe Cap Employee” treatment one might expect if they wanted that.....winston’s glad that taylor called him, he’s trying to appeal to them and what *they* want to see rather than how he tried to go for what he thinks [a place like axe cap] would wanna see like he did in the interview, he’s showing up at this weird basement rendezvous to be on a 3 person quant team of taylor’s, he’s fine to not only do this on his own but also accept those increased demands that make it a [fifty(? or 15, either way) phds would work on this]-Level task, and then he’s glad just to have taylor’s approval at the end of the day.......they Wouldn’t have been able to promise him any leverage of “please do your best work on this” with like, promotions / clout within axe cap or axe-cap-levels of Lots Of Payment b/c like, well taylor wouldn’t outright lie anyways but also Especially wouldn’t if they wanted to keep this quant around for tmc, so winston must never have been asking about that kind of thing

and then, bless your Missing Scene fic but there’s zero canon content re: “uh how/when did taylor break it to winston that this algorithm was for their own fund actually and btw do you want to work for that fund instead,” but presumably it went smoothly enough, he was already happy to Effectively work for them alone apparently even if he still thought that yeah, he was working for taylor who was working for axe........just Yeah altogether it’s evident that “Working With Taylor Mason” must matter more to him than “working with any Other big name financiers” or “getting paid as much as he can get” or “raking in that clout asap to leverage with Other jobs or just like, in general.”

and then of course you have the fact that taylor is Recognizing his ability by calling him back and offering him this job, going “despite your demeanor your skills are superior” and “those other two were sweet, but you’re more talented, i need you,” [praying hands emoji], and giving him this Second Chance and entrusting him with this Solo re: building this algorithm which, unbeknownst at the time to him, is really this linchpin of their hopes & dreams of launching their own secret fund here, and really they must’ve been planning from the start to keep him around if he succeeded b/c it’s not like the algorithm and their whole planned Quant Department wouldn’t continue to be integral to the fund’s success, it wouldn’t really be ideal to have this guy be the one to build an algorithm to reel in an investor who’s working in.....wait for it......billions of dollars here, and then be like, okay bye dude. they must Know how good he is same as winston knows how good he is, and him being Head Quant from the very start was surely never just about mase cap having precious few employees at the very start of things....they could’ve like given him that Lead Position temporarily or whatever, they’re ceo. but they really do value him as like, maybe he doesn’t have the ideal ~personality~ for what fucking ever, either for being Properly Assertive and Impressively Flashy like axe cap might want, or just easy to work with, which taylor would care more about than axe cap would lol, but yknow, they value his Abilities and surely they must also value his efforts re: I Promise To Try and re: his really singlehandedly making that brilliant amazing algorithm which evidently did the trick as they hoped it would

and then......dare i get to the Emotional part of things, the Interpersonal....the anger and the love...............

i mean already when winnie n tay are having their post-math-meetup meetup, aka the first time they’re meeting After their disastrous really-first meeting aka the Interview, you have winston taking a way more grounded approach to this “yeah i want to work for you please accept me” process which is obviously in response to what he thinks Taylor wants from him based on the mess of the interview, evident thanks to winston telling them that he’s been thinking about all of that.......and i mean, part of taylor’s whole thing is they have that grounded approach pretty much always lol, (or try to....Want to...), but they sure seem to Also be bringing this effort to Accommodate him based on the hot mess of the interview, wherein yeah they wouldn’t’ve expected to have to ever interact again with this person they were dunking into the trash (and of course from that Meta Perspective, the scene when originally written was meant to be winston’s only appearance ever), but they really seem to also be bringing a more dialed down approach, letting him talk first and going along with his “you ever done math meetup” intro until he’s the one who changes the subject, and i really see that Head Tilt as a sympathetic one lol, not necessarily like “awww :’0″ levels lmao but still like. they Know he’s likely to have some [emotional vulnerability] re: what last went down between them since they weren’t especially gentle with him then, and they like, demonstrably give a shit about that fact lol. they’re also not just wholly swinging in the other direction to make up for it or anything lol but they’re Also making it clear that, yknow, they’re willing to work with him For Real, not just in this “are you willing to work for me, y/n, okay great” way, but in this way of [winston making an effort to make things easier on taylor] and [taylor making an effort to make things easier on winston] which is already playing out here between them.

and the whole matter of winston’s seemingly genuine Dismay at messing up even part of this exchange, i.e. the “[wince-ston] damn it, sorry,” like, sure maybe he just really wants the job, but [see: everything above about how he Must primarily want to work with taylor re: wanting any of these jobs lol] and, after all, he “oh shit, sorry”s @ them when he’s well-established as their Head Quant in ep 4x08 and generally shows this directed-at-self displeasure at thinking he’s messed something up even without some clear “your (potential) job is on the line” element......he just Doesn’t Want To Disappoint Taylor Themself, doesn’t need some particular fear of further repercussion behind that.

and speaking of Lack Of Fear, you Know we love to point out how kompenso (and really winston’s :/ + “sure, why not :\”ness at the end of 3x09 lol) demonstrates that winston isn’t afraid of taylor either as an [intense and unusually-demeanor'd person who Does apparently strike people as Scary(tm) sometimes lol] or as this Esteemed Rising Star Axe Cap Higher-Up or simply as his de facto boss.........he’s not raring to tell them that the other quants bailed b/c of his own disapproval lol, but he’s honest as soon as they deduce as much, the tone of “fine, yes, big time” + his standing up to get even closer to them instead of just shaking in his desk chair like :c pls forgive me obviously does Not convey that he’s terrified of them, and then the rest of that interaction jsut being like, ugh god so fucking essential, they’re both able to stand face to face and be like I Am Looking Directly At It / I Do See It re: each other, both of them just continuing to be Honest and Direct with each other, God.....taylor might’ve swatted his metaphor away but he was not all that put out, and then they’re Using His Own Language by bringing it back three seconds later, like, yeah sure at this point they have a vested interest in this individual quant (the only one left lol) accepting this Demanding Task, but a) they’re not exactly playing it cool on that front, they Just said “i need You,” it’s unlikely that this is just some all manipulative tactic here by encouraging his metaphor after all lol and that’s hardly their style anyways even if they Can be strategic(tm) about things, and b) they’ve Just Previously adopted his own words lol with winston having said “as for not being a dick” and taylor saying “you backslid into being a dick” (combining His Phrasing with Theirs aka “if you promise not to backslide”....god!!!!!!)

and so then yeah to top it all off winston even ~pushes his luck~ lol by being a lil deliberately rude re: his ex-coworkers lmaoo, and you get taylor’s Reaction to being sort of tested here to be Closing Off Their Expression (speaking of....their tiny lil Eyebrow Twitch when winston infers that he’s making something to pitch to an investor.....god!!!!!! a) winnie n tay and b) emmy) and making it clear that their interest in him acting Easy To Work With was a practical matter......winston watching them go up the stairs, taylor looking back at him as they Ascend and he gets back to his desk.....jesus

the point being!!! they vibe with each other so well by Kompenso already and just *get* how the other operates and communicates and Neither Of Them are offput by the other, Neither Of Them are unwilling or uninterested in meeting each other where they’re at, and each exerting this effort to really work with each other........and how winston is Not intimidated by taylor as either someone who’s so ~weird~ and can be so Intense, or as someone who is his boss lol........which yknow we always also point out as Important re: tayston developing from this point, where taylor would be careful in how they approach winston about fwbship but would feel like it was even reasonable to consider it in the first place thanks to not having to feel like oh he definitely wouldn’t feel comfortable being honest if he wanted to say no / wasn’t sure

also Yeah It’s Billions but winston freely swearing with the F-word when they’re assessing the completed algorithm, which taylor has no reaction to lol.......the both of them being Hyped about this algorithm lol, like, Of Course they’d both be, but it’s fun :)

and then 4x03, with winston not acting terrified about there being potential Algorithm Problems, and taylor making sure to be like “don’t you dare blame latency” lol like which obv he May Have been planning to mention lol since he’s intending to give this technical answer rather than throwing out his Front Running / Interference Theory like mafee then does.....fun little moment too anyways.......taylor Allowing winston’s tangent about being cassandra and emails and “it’s pronounced owned,” like, they’re not raring to Interrupt / cut him off even if it’s Not obvious what he has to say is absolutely crucial and considered relevant by everyone else, and they’re not telling him he’s a stupid idiot and wasting their time or anything else before sending him away.......imagine. and just think about the beauty of winston very intently / earnestly saying his “i’m cassandra: Always Seeing The Future” right to taylor.

and in 4x08 they build on his metaphor Again after having just Validated him despite everyone else really wanting to do the opposite lol......i “lol” but would everyone else lay off a little Lol......his self-reproach upon Registering that disapproval / oh-no-i’ve-messed-upness again.......then despite winston Standing Right Beside and then Sitting Right Behind taylor they don’t really interact l o l .....we have taylor being all “why is He so happy” and silently observing his Solo “i won” moment, rip, but also congrats.....and then i suppose that covers the Prior To 4x11 stuff lol

just......even re: the relative little we’ve Seen between them up to that point, winston might not have intended to talk to taylor right then, and he might or might not have intended to eventually talk to them in front of anyone else, but You Know He Knows that taylor listens to him, and that he doesn’t have to like, say things in what other people think is The Right And Effective Way to talk (even by billions’s fucking off the shits standards on that front lol), because taylor Does care about what he actually means and what his actual intentions are, not just “oh that very direct/honest thing you said Seemed rude whether you intended it or not”.......the “sad” after his yngwie malmsteen metaphor was the only time they’ve critiqued something like that lol and they then used that metaphor, So, and they’ve copied him calling himself a dick lol, and they built on his Sword metaphor, and they’ve just always been interested in Understanding him and communicating effectively with him, not in trying to get him to communicate differently or just making sure he knows He Should Feel Bad about how he Does communicate, though god knows the latter is something that everyone else seems to be somewhat #about. god knows some axe capper would have that “are you finished?” simply be the Purely Rhetorical intro to their barrage of Dunking-Upon insults, although it sure seems possible that that could’ve been sort of gently dismissive enough anyways to Encourage winston to not be finished even if maybe he would’ve stopped there otherwise.....but everyone else follows taylor’s lead in Not Actually Interrupting Him at any point, despite all the 9_9 and >:| as it were, and like, even though taylor then lets this whole thing end just with mafee going tf off on winston and bullying him into deferring and would-be deference, b/c winston might have this amount of moxie and he might be honest and he might not be scared of taylor (or anyone else here really) but he’s obviously not that assertive and definitely not that aggressive, he’s self-loathing, he’s easily put out, and all of this just bolsters how much it means that he communicates so well with taylor, b/c they’re Not interested in anything that would be counterproductive to actual effective communication but which might be “productive” if they had a goal of wanting to twist his arm about anything or pressure him into acting a certain way or just fueling their own ego or sense of superiority, axe cap style. they Value all his actual input and they have this respect for him where they don’t Want to bully him even if it’s not that difficult, like, yeah mafee was being mean to him for sure and trying to insult him into simply shutting tf up rather than like, actually responding to any of his points or doing anything but reinforcing them, but also winston has been Put Out by milder [negative responses] too, it’s of course more than just “i respect you too much to like, yell at you and try to diminish you”

and Frankly Winston Was Right and he may have been Indignant and he may not have been ~polite~ about it (though like, relative to how he is generally this Direct And Honest, there’s also not all that much evidence he’s deliberately trying to add some extra servings of Rudeness or anything) but once again like with the “as for not being a dick, i can’t absolute guarantee it” moment and the “fine, yes, big time” moment, and the “im sure it’ll go faster without the dead weight; Whoops ;)” moment, and the [talking about the algorithm problems] moment, and him freely jumping in with the “this plan might get us killed (not literally)” and “it’s b/c it sucks that they had to decapitate their dad, also not literally lol....although...” remarks, he’s just like, never afraid to tell taylor something that sure might not be the most pleasant for them to hear, and sure might not be something they Want to hear. and what’s Honest is that he’s Angry about this, and they won’t want to hear that and that they will even less want to hear his Honest Thoughts about why this is unfair, but he’s willing to say that to them, and even though we were like “haha boy winston if this isn’t fixed big time you might wanna quit :/” it’s also like, he must’ve trusted them to not wanna just fire him for lack of reverence to his ceo, and we can Juxtapose this with a) the scene that we’re set up to juxtapose it with, wherein a group of axe cappers carefully tell axe he’s being dumb as hell and might fuck all of them over, and axe tells them all to shut the fuck up b/c He Is Their Sun and he can do what he wants and get the fuck out of here, and we can also juxtapose it with b) winston being jumped on immediately in The Interview for ~lack of reverence~ to the potential employer, putting on this cocksure hotshot act (trying to..) and daring to express confidence in himself and be like “i should be interviewing you” / you should be selling to Me lol......jump to 4x11 and winston is caught off guard, he’s not putting on any kind of act, he’s not trying to appeal to anyone, sure mafee might turn it around on his [last we checked, the quant hates himself]ness, but this wasn’t about Winston Lashing Out b/c he’s angry at himself, he’s angry at Them for not valuing him, for what he perceives as them not even *really* giving them the option of the 60% Now approach, which sure seems to be justified seeing as apparently nobody but lauren goes for it and after winston invokes the Peer Pressure / pressure to seem Loyal / Committed by deferring, mafee immediately uses that [social pressure] to crush his dissent........where was i. right like. winston’s truly just Mad At Someone Else this time, he wouldn’t be here if his self-esteem was so low that he was immediately ready to just accept and absorb this treatment, and he Knows that taylor will actually listen to him which is their fuckin Mutual Respect thing and who tf else does that for him all the time, and he knows that taylor doesn’t value their own ego above everything else Unlike Some People, and he knows that he can be honest and get an honest reaction and that their honest reaction to his honesty is not “ugh you’re stupid / annoying / rude / etc,” b/c he’s Not, and that might be everyone else’s idea of him to some degree, but taylor Gets him better than that

and then you don’t quite have taylor being obviously Angry back, but they’re not exactly thrilled, and letting mafee go off on winston / effectively telling him they expect him to consider That the response and in turn respond back to that, can sure be interpreted as an expression of something a little short of pure goodwill and best intentions towards him here lol......again, i lol through the pain.......winston only has further reason to be angry, his Complaints weren’t resolved in the least and he came in all “i feel disrespected” and surely that’s only been doubled down on, b/c this isn’t Just “pay me goddamnit,” it’s really also just about the fundamental respect itself, which he figured that taylor cares about too, and so this would be something he could appeal to / expect them to earnestly.....he feels like none of them are being valued more than this feud with axe cap, he (maybe) feels like said feud is causing the quants’ work to be deprioritized in favor of more elaborate schemes based on “what will screw axe over specifically,” he feels like he’s not being valued as a Very Important Employee, he feels like this False Choice thanks to Social Pressure is insult to injury, like they’re not supposed to get a real chance to question this. boy i’m really just going off talking about any and all aspects of this huh, where’s the Anger Geography core here

well here it is: winston doesn’t ever talk to taylor in any more Filtered way due to them being his boss / him feeling a need to be more careful around them, if anything, they’re the one person he can be Least filtered around, b/c they care about What He Actually Means and aren’t all hung up on whether his communication style seems gratingly weird / wrong / offputting. winston isn’t bringing any particular leverage to this situation, yeah sure he pointed out He’s Valuable but he also did that in the interview with even less leverage and in the basement when he thought he was just working on some weird side project for axe cap in this remote quant dungeon - he’s counting on them to just Listen To Him and care about what he means, same as he always does and like they’ve done thus far. and he’s Temporarily Burned by this, which is tragic, but then 4x12 happens, and who knows if taylor and winston talked between these scenes at all cuz billions sure won’t say at all, but either way winston sure seems to pick up on the fact that taylor is responding to his Complaints here, the implication they were taking a too-axe-esque approach to them now answered by taylor deliberately differentiating themself from axe, and asserting that they Do value their employees and their contributions, and that taylor has this responsibility to them, and maybe Had gone astray there with the revenge jag but aren’t actually interested in that being the core of everything.........winston is Validated and we realize it and he seems to realize it lol, he definitely Was listened to, and he sure wasn’t like fired or anything, he Could Be Angry with them and that wasn’t going to lead to taylor wanting to sever even the Professional relationship or anything like that. sure seems to be no grudge held between them during the “q is for quantitative, babey” scene there lol and yeah it’s billions and shit moves fast / people will roll with A Lot of mistreatment apparently (see: winston also does not seem to harbor any grudge against mafee here lol but who knows) but the Fact Is, here they are, having found A Way Out Of [Anger], after having had this altercation which wouldn’t even have been possible if Winston hadn’t felt it was possible for them to interact like this, for him to be mad and be honest about that anger and the hows and whys of it and for that Not to be a dead end between them or something that could shatter the relationship entirely. and he was Validated!!!!

and guess who i also love to quote and paraphrase lol i also think of mariame kaba talking about interpersonal Conflict being possible Opportunities in a relationship, because working through said conflict can allow the relationship to grow / deepen / strengthen. which sure seems to Hold Hands with this idea: that you can Be Angry with someone because you already know that won’t break the relationship, and that even if you don’t already know that, going through that experience / process of Being Angry with someone and coming out the other side together will show that the relationship can handle that / will have involved gaining tools to be able to handle that going forward. and really like, we’ve seen winston Forgive taylor’s anger at him right off, and that may not be the sweeping heights of love but it came from Understanding (and....low self-es steam probably lol) but no really, he Shows that he understands why they reacted like that by behaving in this way that he figures is more in line with what they actually want, just talking and being direct with no boxes or [wags] or standard boring interview questions or posturing, showing he’s willing to work with them in the “please hire me” and “i’ll try to Behave” ways lol........and taylor is offering their own patience and sympathy and restraint and Understanding and willingness to bend.......things are happening on an emotional plane between them here.

and then after winston chooses to be on board with mase cap, and after he’s worked for them so long that it’s comp time baby, and after these few Sample Interactions we’ve seen in which taylor doesn’t cut winston down or show contempt for him and they continue to directly or indirectly validate him, winston can be Angry with them and taylor can (definitely Sorta) be Angry back, and winston surely even Stayed Angry after that scene in 4x11, and he didn’t quit, and was that [terrible self-esteem actually lol] or was it him believing that there could be a way out of this state of anger between him and taylor? both?? we get to decide!! b/c he’s sure not Validated and Vindicated until later lol.....what does he sit there on that couch alone in that room and Think in those moments...........and then once things Are better resolved, they have this whole [episode of conflict] in their history, and like is the whole Point of all of this, that’s hardly necessarily just some awful and unfortunate thing.......their relationship can survive something like that, and the conflict sure sparked this kind of Genuine Interaction between them which couldn’t have happened if winston just shied away from all this / kept it to himself because he didn’t think taylor would Listen or Care or Understand.

and it’s Not Just About The Money, and even when he expresses that he’s upset about this perceived disrespect / not being valued as an employee, we Know that he’s not someone who’s got this need to feel superior to everybody else / like he’s always Winning, and we know he’s not after Maximum Clout, but he does want to Work With taylor and he evidently wants to feel valued By Them, who does happen to be his boss and does have this avenue to potentially treat any employees unfairly. and we know that winston *knows* in this objective way how good his work is, and both winston and taylor have acknowledged that yeah, His Work / professional quantly ablities have value, so winston Knows he should expect for that to be valued in the form of “your quantributions are important and you’re getting paid to reflect that”........and that he feels like he’s for once not being Allowed Honesty re: everyone supposedly being pressured into deferring is like..........what do he and taylor have if not earnest, open communication b/c they both value and respect what the other Really Has To Say!!!!!! that’s winnie n tay and it’s also tayston.

which, speaking of which, Sidenote: when it comes to tayston hcs we generally have this as a “they’re not currently doing Their Thing at this point anyways, and maybe the fact that that’s been ended (and they Haven’t been talking through this particular conflict yet) is adding to the tension / anger / feeling of not being valued hahaha rip” deal lol, but also if they Were still currently in their fwb/[???]ship like obviously this would spill over and probably require an at-least-temporary halt to give everyone some space seeing as it’d be a little impossible to truly completely Set That Aside in the recent aftermath l o l ......but despite the lingering tension / awkwardness that would be present whenever they Do next meetup [imagine: an I Was On The Phone With You, Sweetheart phonecall prior to 4x12′s scene?? wrow] the layers to that ensuing sex lol......reunion sex? makeup sex? not-hate-sex-but-maybe-still-needing-to-vent-a-lil-Emotional-frustration-maybe sex? maybe all of the above and more

ANYWAYS even i don’t know why this is so long, and also it’s 7am. i definitely think that winston trusted taylor and the Relationship between them to be able to handle Anger (his, for once, lol) and for that Anger to even potentially be something Constructive. and he was right. and in 4x12 he’s there with them at the very end, wearing the tmc logo, standing behind them in the hellhole which is axe cap hq, knowing that taylor is the one person (here, certainly) who definitely Gets and who’s Got him, who’s asserted this loyalty and commitment to him after he’s certainly done that re: them, and once again winston definitely has this Choice to be here with them just like he must’ve had that choice to join up with their fund in the first place, he’s never been trapped with them or forced into alliance with them, and we just Know that he’s not choosing to be here just for Linkedin reasons / what’s best for career advancement and/or for raking it in as best as he can manage and/or for gaining clout and status or whatever, and we sure never see him reaping some kind of deluxe treatment/benefits just for being closely associated with taylor / having their approval. everything we see points to winston caring most about what happens between him and taylor and that he gets to work with them and that he’s here because of that mutual respect and value for each other.

and really, the show also repeatedly tells us that winston Does basically have these world-class abilities and *is* that valuable, and we know that winston Knows how good he is, and he must’ve legitimately had all those offers and known that he’s really good enough that these places Should compete for him. he must’ve known that he has this Potential here and all of these options laid out in front of him, and he takes taylor’s call and shows up in a basement for them and singlehandedly writes an algorithm good enough to found their fund upon and he follows them there when now he’s got this Proof of just how incredible his work is and could’ve leveraged that anywhere else. but his relationship with taylor has always had this personal aspect to it and the fact is that, even with his choice of Paths laid out in front of him, he chose and keeps choosing the geography of winnie n tay. Love. thank you and goodnight

#time to attempt a nap!!!! Them!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#winston billions #tayston #nothingunrealistic1

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