#remember when there was that line in the actual game suggesting that workers in a bunch of hauling companies were being replaced | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

casperslibrary · 23 days ago

Text

{Finnick Odair x Reader} To Survive The Ocean, First You Must Swim- CHAPTER FIVE - Finnicks POV

[After losing her sister to the games and her father to the ocean, her best friend (and supposed love of her life) Emery saves her. Now, as they go into the hunger games together, she is determined to do whatever it takes to save him. But when her mentor ends up being a man she has learnt to hate, she can't help but be frustrated, especially when she realises how little she really hates him, and how much she actually needs him.]

A/N: there may be minor inaccuracies throughout the story as it’s been a hot minute since i’ve read the hunger games. Anyways I had more fun writing Finnick's POV than expected, though if you couldn’t tell it was quite hard to leave the MC nameless and lacking any distinct physical attributes. Also I’m sorry that all of the povs are in first person- but it's easier dialogue wise when trying to make the mc lack a name. Btw I plan on making a masterlist when I have the time + once I get my Ao3 invitation I’ll also upload my fic on there! I need filler chapters so my inbox is always open for suggestions! Anyways this chapter superrrrrr long lmao

chapter four | all chapters

[Finnick POV]

As the tributes ride the chariots I am driven to the training centre. Inside the car is a screen showing the parade.

“Our tributes look so good this year, don’t you think? Dara is so much better than who we used to have, you know the man whose only idea of style is being naked?” Sona says to me, and I nod in reply. Cornelia’s sister, who is known to me as Bugs due to Cornelia’s constant use of the nickname, smiles and waves with one hand and holds Emery with the other. As beautiful as she looks, the moment was tainted by her hand in Emery’s. I try not to think about it, instead focusing on her face, her smile, which suddenly falters. Turning her head she finds comfort in Emery. I frown, admittedly, I was jealous. After hearing Cornelia talk about her so much, it was hard for me to not think highly of her. And after I stuck to the promise of keeping an eye out on Bugs, I couldn’t help but start to notice things about her, things I never bothered to notice about anyone. The way she always stood her ground, and didn’t let anyone sway her. How she always stood up for the weak in school, even getting into a few fights with bullies. I chuckle as I remember her throwing a rock at Kim Lain. He was a dick - he deserved it. I noticed how strong she was, but also how caring, when she was thirteen she gave her lunch to a frail, younger girl who obviously hadn’t eaten in days, and started packing extra food for her everyday after that. I remember even the small things about Bugs, how she covers her mouth when laughing at things she probably shouldn’t laugh at. How she touches her hair when uncomfortable, or plays with her shirt while she’s waiting for the time to pass.

I should have gone up and talked to her earlier, I wish I did. Maybe if I had told her it was me who saved her life when she was fourteen we would have gotten closer, and she wouldn’t have been so eager to risk her life when Emery’s name was called. But I didn’t, I had only started selling my body just a few months earlier, and the last thing I needed was another person for Snow to threaten everytime I dared to diverge out of line. So I bit my tongue, watched her from afar, did my best to protect her just as promised, and look where that got us. For fuck sakes I even slept with a worker to keep her name out of the bowl, and she still managed to end up being a tribute.

I briefly consider trying to convince the game makers to kill off Emery, that way she’ll have to at least try to win, but I know I could never do that. I groan and Sona gives me a confused look, but I pay her no mind. She puts a hand up to my shoulder, though I immediately recoil. Sona says no words as she moves her hand away, knowing the cause for my discomfort. She may have been very illusioned by her upbringing in the Capitol, but even she has the heart to know rape is wrong. Sona has a kind soul, and I can imagine in a world where there were no games, no propaganda, she and I could really be close friends. But right now, we don’t exactly see eye to eye on the whole ‘radical take’ that killing children is wrong. But I know that someday she’ll see it. Every year her excitement for the games gets more and more dull, every year her voice gets dimmer reading the names of the children that are to die. One day she will completely learn to hate the games; but I don't know if I want that for her. She’s already in too deep to leave. Ignorance is bliss, as they say.

We get out of the car and enter the training centre, there aren’t any screens in the room we’re in, and I can’t help but be nervous with her out of my sight. I know it’s irrational; being a tribute is probably the safest position to be in up until you’re actually put in the arena, god forbid anything happens to the capital's precious props. But still, my nerves immediately calm down once I see her enter through the grand doors. Sona helps Bugs from the chariot before instantly pulling her into a hug, and I can’t help but laugh at the face she makes. After being released from Sona’s death grip, she turns to look at Emery, and I almost hate myself for the anger that begins to burn. A part of me wishes the roles were reversed, that I was the one she looked at with love and Emery was the one she looked at with spite. I knew she didn’t like me, and while it didn’t take a genius to figure out why, it still hurt. I really tried to make her at least warm up to me, I flirted with her and smiled at her in a way that made other girls melt. But alas, all it seemed to do was irritate her further, out of all the people to be resistant to my charm… Why her?

Her gaze on Emery doesn’t waver, and I can’t stop myself from standing in between them, forcing her to look at me and not him. Realising I need a reason for walking up, I simply congratulate her.

“Good job, princess.”

I know I should probably comment on Emery as well, but I can’t find it in me to care about anyone else. Not when she is standing right here.

We enter the crystal elevator and I can tell that Bugs is star-struck by the view. While I have gotten used to the ride, I think back to the first time I was here, and chuckle as I realise that her sister did the exact same thing. Of course, her sister never even came close to captivating my attention as much as she does. Sona makes some stupid comment on pearls, one that seemed awfully familiar, and Bugs laughs when I tell her the connection.

She laughed.

I told her something, and not only did it not aggravate her, but it actually made her laugh.

Before, the best expression she would give me was a glare, or an eye roll, and even then I was still hooked. But now, I know what it’s like to bring her joy, and holy shit it's addicting.

Fuck, if I wasn’t in deep before, I certainly am now.

Entering our floor, Bugs quickly goes to her room but Emery hangs around. He shoots me a look, and, as little as I am in the mood for it, I put on my fake face; feigning a calm, unaffected composure.

“Yes, Em?” I purposefully use the nickname Bugs calls him. Apparently that was the wrong move.

“She doesn’t need you, you know. She has me.” Insecure much? Although I couldn’t really blame him, it was only moments ago that I felt the euphoria of her joy being directed towards me. If I had constant access to it, I wouldn’t be so quick to let it go either.

“Quite the contrary actually, you need her. She knows it as well considering that was the whole reason she volunteered. Now if I were you, I would consider not picking a fight with me, since we both know that I am the only source of help either of you are going to get in these games.” I walk off, but couldn’t help adding one last comment as I do so. “And by the way, she does need me. That’s how mentoring in these games works.”

I added almost gleefully on the end, the notion of her needing me brought me far greater joy than it should have. Though, in any other circumstances maybe I’d be able to appreciate it more without the sinking feeling of guilt, and more so, the dread of what's to come in these next few weeks.

Emery huffs past me and I retreat to my room. Quite a familiar one at that, when I am brought to the capital throughout the year this tends to be where I stay. Though in all my time staying here, I have never found myself leaving and slowly drifting towards the quarters for the female tribute. But when I hear screaming, you wouldn’t exactly call the way I moved slow. I run so fast I knock over a decorative plant right outside, though as I am about to barge through the door I stop when I hear what they’re yelling about. Me.

Suddenly feeling the sinful urge to eavesdrop, I hope that Bugs didn’t hear the vase fall. Though it appears she doesn’t, as she continues what she’s saying without faltering.

“I’m sorry Em… Finnick… he means nothing to me. I do admit I don’t feel as much hatred as I once did for him, but still, I am with you. Forever and always.”

Nothing? Ouch. That one hurt - much more than it should have. There is a whisper I can’t make out before Emery starts speaking.

“I shouldn’t have reacted like that… I just can’t bear the thought of losing you.”

There is a pause before he continues.

“Remember when Finnick won the 65th? How you went on an endless spiral about how it should have been him that was killed and not your sister… I agree with what you said, your sister should have won.”

A knife is shot through my chest. Actually, coming from someone who has been stabbed, it’s worse than that. In fact I’d rather be back in the arena right now than be here listening to this unendurable conversation. But as much as I try, my legs can’t seem to move.

“Do you think so?” Emery says.

“Yes. Finnick should have died, my sister should have lived.”

I don’t know why it hurts so bad… it shouldn’t hurt this bad. Loads of people have wanted me dead, it was only four years ago when I was put in an arena with twenty-three of them. But hearing this come from her… the girl I care about far too much, the only girl whom I can find it in me to care about… only person for that matter… It's far too much to bear. My knees hit the floor and I sit against the wall for God knows how long. Hours maybe.

Replaying all the memories I have of her over these past few years, I try to find something - anything - that might make me like her less. That could take away this unbearable pain caused by something so small as her words.

Nothing.

There is not one single fucking thing that I do not simply adore about her.

I am only pulled out of my thoughts when Emery opens the door. Quickly trying to come up with an explanation as to what I am doing outside of Bugs room I look up to his face and realise;

He’s not surprised… he knew I was out there this whole time. Bugs may not have heard me knock over that vase but he did. The fucker knew. Emery walks past me saying nothing, but with his smug expression he didn’t need to. That’s why he reminded her of why she hates me… to make sure she doesn’t stop. That’s why he asked her if she still wishes I were dead; to make sure I know that her heart will always belong to him, and never me.

I’ve got to admit, what Emery lacks in physical strength he sure makes up for in manipulative skills. Wasn’t he supposed to be nice? Kind hearted? I suppose the games do affect all of us in the worst ways, especially when someone you love is on the line.

Though whatever the reason for making her say what she did, didn’t change how much her words hurt. Emery was right. He will always be the boy she needs, and I will always be the boy she hates. It killed me to know this, and it killed me to know that even with this knowledge, my feelings for her could never leave. Even after she dies in these games, my heart will still be with her long after she’s gone. Not with me, not with any of my numerous admirers, with her, in her grave.

Slowly, I force myself to get up, and in my room I am almost grateful to hear the phone ring, its shrill noise drowning out my thoughts. Though I quickly realise there is only one person who could be calling this time of night.

“Hello Snow.” I whisper into the landline, trying my best to not show any pain in my voice. Although I am only half paying attention to him as he speaks, my stomach still drops at his words. Tomorrow night I am to meet with a frequenter. He almost makes it out as him doing me a favour. That because it would be so late that none of my mentees would see me leave, and because this particular customer is a valuable sponsor, I should be grateful for him setting this nightmare. I can barely hide the venom on my tongue as I respond to him before hanging up. He is… somewhat right though, this specific guest is in fact a very rich and (if under the right circumstances) very generous sponsor. The fact that this arrangement will benefit Bugs makes me feel a bit better, but only barely.

Grabbing a rope I head into the lounge area where I pour myself a glass of whiskey. I alternate between drinking the neat drink and creating knots in the rope. Though while this usually efficient routine of tying knots helped me forget about what was coming tomorrow, it barely distracted me from my thoughts about Bugs. And after about an hour of this, whatever cruel deity that controlled our reality decided to take it further by presenting me with all that I want, but can’t have, in the flesh. Hearing a step I turn around to see her staring at me, my beautiful curse as perfect as ever.

“Hey princess.” I try to sound lighthearted, but fail miserably. Bugs doesn’t move, but needing her closer, I motion her to sit next to me.

“I don’t bite.” She obviously is still put off by my presence, I try to come up with a way to calm her, and think back to her excitement of the city view in the clear elevator.

“Actually, I know a better place to go to.” I get up and offer her my hand, and when she gives me hers a fire rushes through me that cannot be extinguished. Now I understand why girls get almost delirious when I get close to them, I think I could pass out at any moment.

I take her to the elevator, and up the stairs, not letting her go for even a second, as if the moment my hand leaves hers it will never find its way back. It pains me to know this is probably true. But when Bug's hand finally escapes my firm grasp, she makes up for it with the expression on her face. As I stare at her face, dazed by the scenery, I can’t help but think back to her sister doing the exact same thing years ago. Though in all honesty I appreciate the look of joy far more on Bugs face.

The wind starts to pick up, and she shivers. I take in her satin pajamas, they are quite skimpy, surely not able to give her any resistance against the cool of the night. Holding out my sweater, I offer it to her.

“Here.”

“Aren’t you going to be cold?”

I smile and slightly shake my head. Being cold can not even be considered a price to pay for her being comfortable, and besides, her satin shirt is extremely low cut and I feel guilty for looking, the sweater will at least provide some coverage.

“Just take it”

Okay… so maybe I misjudged the idea of more clothing preventing my sinful thoughts. Because as she wears my sweater, I find myself only more turned on. I try to keep my expression neutral as she thanks me - however I'm honestly lucky to not be quite literally drooling at the mouth right now. Though I try my best to push those thoughts away, to be thinking this way of her when she so clearly does not like me… how could I ever consider myself better than my capital admirers?

Bugs stares at the city lights, and they radiate back onto her perfect face. God I could spend the rest of my life like this, just staring at her, but the voice that’s been taunting me since the moment she was reaped speaks up even louder. ‘This will be one of the last times you get to look at her, before she dies, before she voluntarily kills herself.’

I feel my legs start to shake again, my hands as well. I quickly regret leaving my rope in the lounge area. I can’t let her die, I would rather go into the games myself than let her go. There's got to be some way to change her mind? I won’t stop trying to save her, I can’t. I could imagine that even when her heart stops beating I’ll still be fighting for her life. The possibility of her dying, it just seems so unreal to me, it’s a thought so horrid I cannot even process it.

“Are you really planning on just killing yourself?” But once that question leaves my mouth I quickly talk again because even though I know the answer, I don’t think I can handle it.

“You shouldn’t have volunteered.”

“Thank you for the great suggestion, Sherlock, do you also have a time machine on you by any chance? Or just your insightful words?”

I laugh and shake my head, the spite in her voice is one I’m used to, and I’m almost unphased by it. But then I remember why she hates me so much. Her sister. If I could bring Cornelia up, explain to Bugs the reason why I first fought for her in the first place, before I fell for her, maybe she’d change her mind? If not for me then for her sister.

“I didn’t mean it like that. I just mean she told me to protect you, and you sure are making it a hard job.”

“Who did?”

“Your sister, of course.”

Her confusion is evident, so I continue. Thinking back to this night four years ago as I do.

“Four years ago, her and I were on this exact same roof. All she did was speak of you - I think it must have hurt too much to talk about anything else - anyways she made me promise that if I got out and not her, I would protect you.” I still remember Cornelia’s voice as if it were yesterday.

“I know you’ll win, Finnick, and I am okay with that. Just please promise me one thing, when you get back, protect Bugs. She is so brave, so strong, so kind, and I know that when you meet her you’ll feel the same. My sister is my everything, so promise, just promise me, you’ll make sure she’s safe.”

“Of course I tried my best, when you somehow managed to almost kill yourself, I pulled you out of the water. When you were too scared of swimming to even touch a fishing boat, I… convinced Julia to allow you to only work on land.”

Thinking back to those moments I start to wonder; at what point did I stop protecting Bugs for Cornelia, and instead started protecting her for my own sake? I remember how much it killed me two years ago to find out Bugs tried to kill herself, so it must have been a while. Still I can picture the moment she jumped off that cliff. Although there was a storm and I could have very likely died pulling her out, I didn’t think twice about jumping in after her, though by the time I grabbed her she had already managed to knock herself out. I was so scared that she managed to successfully kill herself. I pinched her cheek on shore, and went in to a hysteric fit of laughter after she groaned in response, probably due to relief rather than there being any actual humour of it all.

When recounting my list of things I have done for her, I purposefully leave out the part where I slept with a worker to get her name out of the reaping bowl. She probably already thinks I’m a whore, and I don’t want to confirm her suspicions. ‘Tomorrow night, 12 am.’ Snow’s voice rings in my mind, and I so desperately want to get it off my chest. Part of me is so ashamed, so scared of what she’ll think of me, but another part of me just wants to let her know that I’m not the slut she thinks I am, at least not willingly. That I don’t want to sleep with the capital girls, or boys for that matter. I know what other people in my district say about me, and I need to show her that they’re wrong. I’m not the person they think I am. The person that she thinks I am.

“I know you hate me, Bugs, and you probably think I’m a whore. I can’t do anything about the hating part but I’m not… a whore. At least not a willing one.”

The words start to spill out before I can stop myself.

“Snow forced me, when a victor is considered desirable, he sells them for their bodies. I don’t get money for my time, I don’t need it, but I do get secrets, sponsorships, favors.”

Bugs stares at me for a second, the shock speaks for itself. Fuck she must think I’m some weak loser. That I won the hunger games with my face and now I open my legs for anybo-

She’s hugging me.

That familiar fire burns through and only brightens when I hug her back. Suddenly, just by holding her, everything is okay. I know nothing has actually gotten better, but just being here, with her, she makes it better. I hold onto her as though if I cling on tight enough, she won’t have to leave, she won’t have to go into the games, I won’t have to lose her. I don’t think of what's to come, I can’t think of it. I can’t lose her. I won’t. I may be selfish, but I won’t let it happen. Bugs is staying alive.

“I’m sorry.” I can barely hear her murmur in my chest, and it all starts pouring out.

“Your sister was brave, you resemble her. I’m sorry she died, I’m sorry I had a part to play in her death. I know you might hate me for it, but please remember I was just a kid, a kid trying to survive. And just because you don’t know my life doesn't make it worth any less.”

And then she does the least expected thing she possibly could have, she starts apologising. I don’t know why, I should be the one apologising to her, begging for her forgiveness and pleading for her to smile at me again, just as she did on the elevator.

“It hurt so much, I was so angry at myself, at everything. Blaming you made it easier. I’m sorry, Finnick.”

Finnick. This must have been the first time I’ve ever heard her say my name, to my face at least. I look back on earlier, when I called her my curse. She may very well be a curse, giving me the most joy I’ve ever felt all while planning on ripping it away in just a couple of weeks. But I don’t care anymore, whatever pain has been caused by her, her wanting me dead, trying to drown herself, loving another man, planning to die in the arena. It all hurts so bad, but it is nothing compared to how much I care about her, how much her simple presence lights up my life and turns my world upside down in all the right ways. Fuck, I must be a masochist for this, but I wouldn’t trade her, or any emotions that caused by her, for the world. And as Bugs whispers my name, I almost automatically say hers in return, her real name.

I am not letting you die.

#fanfic #finnick odair #finnick x reader #finnick imagine #finnick x y/n #hunger games finnick #thg fanfiction #the hunger games #hunger games fanfiction #finnick odair x y/n #finnick odair x reader #hunger games #thg #thg series #x reader #reader insert #fem reader

9 notes · View notes

popculturebuffet · 4 months ago

Text

Labor Day Striketacular II: The Jefferson's Florence's Union

Hello all you happy people and happy labor day.

A time to relax, celebrate all your hard work and

It's also time for what's become a yearly tradition: our labor day striketacular, a look at strike themed episoders.. and once again there's a labor despute going on this time with both the animation and video game voice actors rightfully going on strike. Given teh head of amazon games actually said "there's no acting in games anyway" despite you know, several of the parent companies hottest shows coming from gaming and runnin ga game company, it feels like this might not settle.

So to stand in solidarity have something that's neither a video game nor animation, but still gets across the spirit that unionns are necessary and those against them generally just don't really give a shit about the worker and want to bust them soley for their own sake.

Thus we're back with the Jefferson's, Kev's faviorite sitcom. And I happily endulge as... I get it

I GET it. And i'm glad he did as not only was this a decent, if uneven episode, we'll get to that, and it's fun to see sitcoms take on strikes, it also let me know you can watch this episode and many more for FREE

youtube

Yup whole episode right there and that channel the norman lear effect is slowly uploading pretty much all of his shows. You want to see all in the family? have some good times? finally watch facts of life or the original one day at a time? (Though do yourself a favor and check out the netflix reboot, his final live action sitcom, it's fucking great). IT's all here and it's all damn good and i'm so happy it's being shared. So join me under the cut as we move on up once again and as George flip flops on unions a few times and makes an ass of himself.. so about what you'd expect out of Jeffersons about unions really but still not bad.

We open with Louise , the head out of the house making some peeking duck when her maid, Florence wants her to leave. She wants her out of the house and to go see a movie, a charming sounding slasher. I mean I would but I get that's not WHeezie's thing so she sticks around long enough to see who Flo is waiting for: A fellow maid. As the name suggests Florence is trying to get a union started in their building, having been drafted as possible leader by a local unionizer.

I like this opening because while Flo and WHeezie are really just as much best friends as maid and employer, that line of one writing the others checks is always going to be there and Flo can't guarantee Wheezie will be on her side.

Wheezie is of course for two reasons: She's a saint and she was a maid. She knows how hard it is and the episode firmly shows WHY the maids are unionizing: their bosses treat them like furniture dressing them (The maid who showed up is dressed in a sterotypical maid's uniform and one at the full meeting later complaints about being dressed to match the tacky furniture), exerting control over them and not giving them paid vacation. Wheezie goes on at length about an awful boss who always complaind any time she so much as talked and she coudln't leave because of the bills. It's a nice reminder Wheezie.. hasn't forgotten where she came from. That of the two jeffersons she's the groudned one remembering how hard it was to get here and thus helping prop others up.

Naturally.. George is the perfect counterpoint to this, a nice conflict I love being brought up: that just because you struggled to get where you are or had a hard life.. dosen't mean you actually care about the people still on the ground trying to move on up like you did. We see it on the right all the time and if you wanted to avoid me being political why the hell did you read this far in a review of a norman lear show? You've got fucks like vp canditate jd vance writing an entire novel to paint the place he came from as a place populated by simple hillfolk who don't know better. The truth is it's up to those who have power or have gained it to help, to remember their empathy and where they came from or where they may never have been.

George however is a king sized ass with no empathy to him, so when he finds wheezie with flo's friend who works for the owner of the buildling (the one in the maid outfit) and the union's organizer who smells peeking duck a mile away and is shocked Wheezie isn't a maid herself , he's an ass. Granted the union rep insults him, but that's a natural response to being around george for more than a minute.

George not supporting unions though makes sense: it's a character trait of Geroge's i've seen that for the most part, he's ditched his past, tries to leave it behind. He's proud of how far he's come and will fucking wreck you if your a racist piece of a shit, easily. But he's also argoant, in love with his money, and has to be reminded where he started some of the time. It's why I like the character: he's hard to watch sometims, but like Archie Bunker, his direct foil, he's a flawed man shaped by how he grew up who badly needs to grow as a person and sometimes just.. might not. This is an issue he dosen't agree with as he thinks Flo does little work, hates her on sight and only hired her on Wheezie's urging. Of course he's not going to like something she supports and Flo isn't helping win him over.

Granted he takes it too far... assuming because it's partly his house he can block a meeting from being held there, and flip flopping when the other maid mentions who she works for.. then flip flopping again when the building owners goon shows up to say the man's disgust and george, to suck up, agrees and refuses.

So rather than... just ignore george and have the meeting anyway as it's her house and he can sleep outside it for the night if he wants to mak ea dael of it and is being an unresonable ass, or point out "I was a maid too ya dick"... WHeezie... tricks him to go out with their rich neighbor who shows up in his underwear in the intro for some reason

But dosen't show up in the episode otherwise, while she sneaks the maids in. And this part of the ep feels.. weak. While I do think Wheezie prefers to just work AROUND george, and he wasn't listening to reason.. I don't see her as backing down this easily nor letting his nonsense ensue. Granted I also have only seen about 5 episodes of the show, so I could be entirely wrong. Or she could simply not want George to make a giant scene which.. fair.

So after a few natural "oh no he wont' leave and their hear early" shenanigans we get the Maid's meeting which I do enjoy as they talk about just how.. inhumanly their treated. The dress thing from earlier, one marking the scotch bottle "Good thing I drink burbon", as well as Florence struggling to get them to make actual demands.. and then getting to them and their all.. fair: Sick leave, vacation pay, a raise. All stuff people should have in general and shouldn't need a union to get.

Naturally this quickly goes to shit as OF COURSE George comes home. And OF COURSE the guy who owns the building who i'm not giving the dignity of learning his name as h'es both your standard white guy and a giant asshole, shows up. And this part does work better as it shows WHY it can often be hard to argue with management and why you need an intermediary like a unionn, something hard and in place... because this fuckers first instict is to try to get names and faces, with most hiding it. And while ti's played slightly as a gag... it's also a very real peril. Florence's Friend from earlier is horrified when she exits the bathroom to find the guy there and is forced to go with him: she has kids to support. All they want is basic rights and this fucker wants to threaten their livelihoods. It's why I don't care to remember what his name is: there's a thousand employers like him who will gladly bust a union simply to save a penny. It's why the AI fight is so vital: bosses genuinely WANT to replace actors and creators with ai because it's cheaper and can't be let to do that. Unions are important because sometimes it's the only voice the worker has.

And that's driven home as Florence TRIES to be civil. She dosen't like the guy.. but asks him to simply just listen. And his repsonse? "Why would I do that?" It's simple, and punches you in the throat. It's why this episode mostly works for me: the two union busting assholes we see are over the top enough to fit this breed of dick... but still restrained enough to be a boss you could have. The kind who dosne't care about you and will gladly fire you for trying to make your life better for asking for the bare minimum.

When wheezie gently presses it he says "tha'ts the problem with you people". And unfortunately for him he pressed the "you people" button

So George steps in and shows his inner noblilitY: he may be a dick.. but NO ONE is a dick to his wife. His maid yes, he says it himself. Florence is less than surprised. But Wheezie for all he tries to walk over her... is the one thing you cannot fuck with and expect to get away. He then boldly lets the union use his place and when that's too big one of his shops and when mr white antagonist tries to use the fact he owns the leases to both, George beats him with simple logic: he pays his rent on time for both. He has nothing to fear. And yeaht he guy could use shady tactics, but that just gives George ammo for a lawsuit (Which George can more than afford) or to go to the press. George is a hero

Sadly.. this episode messes itself up with a button. Geroge backtracks and we end on him calming that was a tiny man pretending ot be him. I get needing to end on a gag and it is in character.. but it kinda removes the punch a bit to have george try to walk it back. Realistic yes, really fitting with the episode.. no.

So this episode is decent having some solid jokes, fun george antics and a great message.. but it's muted a bit. While there being no clear ending to the union, if Flo's friend will stay in it, or even stay employed works, Norman Lear was ace at sometimes not giving the cleanest resolution, I feel Florence kinda fades into the background in the second half, being more passive until the asshole arrives and then saying nothing. It feels like the big defense speech SHOULD'VE been hers. This episode was solid getting across the issue without offering an easy solution but COULD have been so much stronger. Thanks for reading

#the jeffersons #sitcoms #george jefferson #wheezie jefferson #comedy #black history #labor day #Youtube

3 notes · View notes

nebulousfishgills · 1 year ago

Note

for the random ask game!

2, 4, 5, 26, 35, 43, 58

Thanks bestie! The other asks are gonna get done eventually, brain has just noooot been letting me do shit lol.

2 - Do you have an accent?

Not really. Although technically my state has an "accent" that people kind of unofficially adopted. Sometimes my "a's" sound like "o's." It's not like southerners saying "wooter" and not "water," but the most obvious example is saying the name of my state itself.

4 - Have you ever slapped anybody?

I don't think so. Definetly not in a real, serious way, but I can't remember if I've done a stage slap or not.

5 - Did you learn a skill or get a new hobby during lockdown?

Honestly... I don't think so. Lockdown was really hard on me even being as big of an introvert as I am. I was depressed and mostly did what was familiar rather than doing new things. I've blocked most of 2020 out tbh.

26 - Have you ever won a contest?

Actually yes! Our big botanical gardens was opening a kids area and they needed a name for their mascot, a Marmot. The name I suggested was picked and I was there to attend the grand opening. It was televised and everything. I was gifted a marmot plush that I still have to this day (this was thirteen years ago).

I went there a couple years ago and the kids' section is still there and the mascot is still around here and there, although I don't think my name is anywhere. I can't even find articles about it.

Here's the little lad:

35 - Favorite dessert?

Fuckin Cinnamon Buns. I could eat so many of those, especially the ones from Cinnabon.

43 - Is there a movie you detest for a very specific reason?

Fucking "Sound of Freedom." As most of you know, I worked at a movie theatre this past summer and it was the bane of my existence. It's about child trafficking and it released on the fourth of july. And as you know, Americans see the word Freedom and go ape shit. And it's a very specific crowd: Conservatives. Your religious grandparents, military members, Blue Line Supporters...

And the tRump/QAnon crowd.

I extend my customer service to everyone but these people were/are ASSHOLES. Getting mad at me when showings were sold out (my co worker even had people ask if she could *move other people* from their seats so she could sell them to this old bat and whoever was with her).

On my last day I had two women buy tickets for it and try to trick me into free food by saying they ordered pretzel bites when they most certainly didn't, thinking I was too stupid to realize otherwise... I read their order back to them twice and they said it was fine both times. Jokes on them cause I rang them up in a separate order so they still paid...

Oh and our ushers have seen SEVERAL religious pamphlets and scriptures left behind on the seats.

But it did lead to this funny story:

When I was working on the 4th of July, every showing was full or almost full. This one dude with a Trump hat and a cross around his neck the size of my palm asked about a solution to the problem of his wife not liking butter on her popcorn but he did. I poured the popcorn into a paper bag we give out so people can share easier and let him use his free refill to fill the bucket again, so two buckets of popcorn.

He called me smart, asked for my name (since I didn't wear a nametag) so he could thank me properly, and gave me candy. I wished him a happy fourth since I really was hoping he would tell my manager I did a good job (praise is praise even if he wears a red hat) and he just bellows "AND A HAPPY INDEPENDENCE DAY TO YOU AS WELL, MA'AM!"

...so there was a thin veil made of ignorance and my own resourcefulness that prevented me from getting hate crimed at work since if this man knew a gay pagan had helped him out...

And no I don't think he actually talked to my manager about my helping him.

I seemed to get more respect from these people seeing this fucking movie than others (which says a LOT cause I had so many dicks I had to help) and I've theorized that maybe these nut jobs thought I was religious cause they saw the pin on the hair scarf I wore and assumed it was representative of some Christian sect...

...It's a Volturi crest pin.

But, yeah, to sum up, fuck this movie and the crowds it brings. I knew it was gonna be bad when I read the synopsis on my monitor the morning of the 4th and saw Jim Caveziel was the lead, fucking JESUS in "The Passion of the Christ..." and what's even WORSE is that he's the lead of "The Prisoner," the show I wanted to watch because of baby JCB.

Working Barbenheimer was like a doomsday for me, but Sound of Freedom was a chronic and horrid pain...

Although this happened, so that's horribly ironic:

58 - Are you or were you a good student?

Yeah basically. I was kind of universally known as the smart kid nobody talked to but everyone wanted in their group projects. Finished high school with a 3.97 GPA, but most of that can be credited to my extreme fear of failure. College has been no different lol.

#i could rant about sound of freedom for hours and tell you so many stories but i won't #both for your sanity and mine #ask game #random ask game #random asks #fishgills speaks #beloved mutuals #my inbox is open

2 notes · View notes

akehoshimystar · 7 months ago

Text

Yuzuru SSR

Bellflower Hospitality

Part 1

Ito: I see, this is a buttercup.

I’ve always thought it was related to rose.….. Someone who knows a lot about flowers would get angry for sure if I said that.

During my lunch break, I was sitting on a bench in the park while holding an illustrated book and muttering the names of flowers.

Yuzuru: Oh, Yashiro-san.

Sorry for startling you. I just saw you from afar.

Are you reading something?

Ito: Kise-san! Yes, I had some spare time, so I’m using this chance to study.

Yuzuru: I see, is it for an event?

Ito: Although it may not be much, I want to know enough about flowers in case our customers want to ask me about it.

Yuzuru: That’s a lot of sticky notes and highlights. I would have thought you’re studying for a test.

….? This one right here…

Ito: There's also the possibility that I'll be asked about flowers that aren't there.

I thought if I knew a lot, I'd be able to handle any situation.

Yuzuru: How well-prepared. Yashiro-san is truly a hard worker.

Ito: But I'm still not very good at it. I wish there was some trick...

Yuzuru: Things like this become even more difficult if you try to cram the whole thing in.

Why not try learning it in a form of game?

After his suggestion, Kise-san took out his smartphone and searched for pictures of flowers.

Yuzuru: Yashiro-san, here's a question. What’s the name of this flower?

Ito: Oh, I think I saw it in a flowerbed in the park. I'm sure the name is-

Uhh, what is it again?

Yuzuru: It’s petunia.

It has a bright color and cute horn-like shape, don't you think it would look great on sweets?

The soft petals might give a nice texture

Ito: Oh, horn and sweets...!

(I see. It's also possible to remember it by picturing something similar, like its shape.)

Yuzuru: Now, onto the next question. What about this one?

Ito: Um... Dianthus?

Yuzuru: Correct!

It is edible too.

Ito: .….Wow, you know a lot about flowers, Kise-san.

Yuzuru: You’re giving me too much credit, I'm still learning as well.

This is all thanks to the research I did when thinking about menus that can be incorporated with edible flowers.

Ito: (Ah, so that’s why. Apparently, that’s the case.)

But it's certainly a good idea to remember them by their common features.

Yuzuru: Fufu, I'm glad I was able to give you a hint

There's still some time until the event, so let's learn the names of the flowers together.

Ito: Yes!

Part 2

Ito: (It’s always in my mind that there are a lot of white flowers.)

(A lot of them look alike, if someone asked me which one is which, I'd probably get confused...)

While racking my brains with the illustrated book in one hand, Kise-san called me out after passing by behind me.

Yuzuru: Oh. That looks like a fried egg.

Ito: (Fried egg...??)

Yuzuru: Ah, sorry for peeking without asking.

Ito: It’s okay.

More importantly, what you have just said.....

Yuzuru: Doesn’t a flower with white petals and yellow center remind you of a fried egg?

Ito: Now that you mention it, it does look like one.

Yuzuru: Margaret, daisy, cosmos… There are quite a number of them.

It's hard to tell them apart with bare eyes.

Ito: Seems like the fried egg replica is not to be taken lightly.

Yuzuru: That’s when you should take a look at the shape of the leaves-

Riku: Hello there. Are you talking about cooking?

Ito: Riku-san, good work. We weren’t actually talking about an authentic fried egg.

Riku: Flowers? Ah, I see

Come to think of it, I once saw flowers like that in a photo I took.

I'm sure it’s on my phone... Ah, here it is.

The photo is angled as if he was lying on the ground looking at the sky. There, round fried eggs were lined up to frame the sky.

Ito: Love the picture. Uhh, this flower is...

Yuzuru: Based on the shape of the petals, it doesn't seem to be cosmos.

Maybe not daisies either.

Though it does look similar to one...

Yuzuru: The leaves are different. These jagged leaves look more like those of chrysanthemums...

Ito: North Pole...!

Riku: Correct. You two know one or two things about this, it seems.

Ito: Same goes to you, Riku-san.

Riku: I just learned it from Kiho when I took this photo.

Sorry for making it look like I was testing you.

Ito: Don’t say that, it actually gave me a confidence boost. Thank you.

Riku: I'm glad to be of help.

Yuzuru: From what I see, you'll be able to tell the difference soon.

The event is just around the corner, let's do our best.

Ito: Yes!

With my new “ally” called fried egg replica in hand, I looked at the reference book once again.

Part 3

Ito: The big one right here is a lily, and the stylish one is an alstroemeria.

On the day of the event... As the store was about to open, I checked the names of the flowers out loud one by one.

Yuzuru: Stylish?

Ito: Yes. There is a pattern in the center of the petal. Which made me think lily looks incredible.

Yuzuru: I see. You're all set now.

Ito: I think I can assist the customers with this.

Yuzuru: Haha, I'm counting on you.

I think it's amazing that Yashiro-san worked so hard that you can say that with confidence.

Ito: Oh. It's all thanks to Kise-san's help.

Yuzuru: Without your effort, it would be nothing. I didn’t do much.

Ito: Kise-san, look at these flowers.

Yuzuru: …..? North poles and daisies?

Ito: I've become able to tell them apart because of Kise-san.

Yuzuru: Could it be the fried egg...?

Ito: Yes. You taught me interesting ways to look at them and made quizzes to help me remember.

I owe a lot to Kise-san.

At least, let me express my gratitude.

Kise-san looked surprised for a brief moment before going back to his usual relaxed disposition again.

Yuzuru: I have to take back what I said, then. I'm glad I was able to help you

Fufu, how strange. I feel like the event was a success even before it started.

Ito: Ahaha, I think I know exactly how you feel.

...Oh, look. Customers are starting to line up outside the store.

Yuzuru: It's already time. Let's hurry up and get ready.

After making the final inspection, Kise-san unlocked the entrance.

Yuzuru & Ito: Welcome!

A special and wonderful day filled with the scent of flowers began when the door plate was changed from CLOSE to OPEN.

#break my case #buremai #joseimuke #Kise Yuzuru #Tateshina Riku

0 notes

randomshyperson · 4 years ago

Note

Can I request a celebrity AU with Elizabeth Olsen and Female Reader? Where R is Vision in the MCU. And like throughout a series of interviews and behind the scenes shots, you can see how the two actually fall in love in real life. And in like the final interview they ask “Are you two dating?” And this time they can finally say yes

Hello darling, how are you? I hope well. This took me a while, and i’m not sure you’re even going to like it. But i hope you do. It was honestly kind of strange to write for Lizzie, i kept mistaken the name as Wanda. Also, i changed your idea a bit, because i could find the right way to write the interviews. But anyway, here it is. Good reading.

Elizabeth Olsen x Reader - Love is outside the screen

Summary: The one where Reader plays Vision in the MCU and she falls in love with her co-worker Elizabeth Olsen.

Warnings: None.

Words: 4.308 words //// Read on AO3

Marks: @wandamaximoffpuppy

Part. 2 || Part 3

Eight years ago

Your agent was calling you for the third time, and you thought you should answer before you lost your contract.

Letting out an impatient sigh as you reached for your cell phone, you left it on speaker.

- Hello, Sara. - You say with a slight irony as you relax your body in the water of the jacuzzi again.

- It's not polite to ignore someone who keeps you employed. - she said irritated, making you laugh.

- Sorry, but I told you I was on vacation. - You reminded her. - And what did you keep doing? Oh yes, calling me.

- Don't be so grumpy, woman. - She replied with a light humor in her voice, and you could hear the clatter of keystrokes, suggesting that she was working. - I have an opportunity for you.

You raised your eyebrows in curiosity, but said nothing. And by your silence, Sara kept talking.

- Tell me, have you ever thought about being a superhero?

You let out an incredulous laugh, thinking it was a joke.

- I'm not going to make any weird latex movies, Sara. - You warn her, and she lets out a laugh.

- Actually, honey, it's Marvel.

You blink in surprise, and then turn to rest your arms on the edge of the jacuzzi and look directly at your cell phone.

- What are you talking about?

- Ah, caught your interest, huh? - She remarks. - You actors are all the same, one famous name and you fall to your knees.

- Sara...

- No, it's okay. - She giggles. - They want a openly queer actress to play a lesbian heroine, I think. And then they called me.

- Wow, Marvel doing something like that? - You comment. - It sounds like a lie.

Sara giggles.

- It pays well anyway. - She says, and then a notification pops up on the screen. - I just sent you the script. Let me know if I can confirm your audition.

You let out a sigh before saying goodbye and hanging up, grabbing your cell phone to read the script.

It is the scene description of your character's appearance, and there is also a note for the chemistry test. You bite your lips thoughtfully. You were known in the media for roles in international, indie and cult films, mostly lesbian romance. You had a few academy nominations, and had been awarded twice by the critics. Superheroes were not really what you were looking for. But then you remembered how much you missed having a lgbt reference in media like this, and then you are sending a message to your agent confirming your audition.

//-//

Present

You are twiddling your thumbs in your dressing room. It must be the ninth interview in less than two weeks. Letting out a sigh, you stand up, momentarily looking at your appearance in the mirror. The make-up team did a good job, you look well. And then you are walking outside, to the dressing room next to yours.

You knock on the door, and are soon answered. But Elizabeth doesn't smile when she pulls you inside.

- Hey, Lizzie, what's up? - you ask worriedly as you close the door. The next second she's hugging you tight, and you sigh. - You're anxious, aren't you?

- I feel like my heart is going to burst out of my mouth. - She grumbles and you start stroking her back, trying to calm her down.

- Remember that exercise we practiced, okay? - You ask her tenderly as you move your feet so that you move together toward the sofa in the living room. You break the embrace slowly, to sit Lizzie down on the couch as you kneel in front of her. She looks on the verge of tears, and you place your hands on top of hers. - Breathe with me, okay?

It will take you many minutes to calm her down, but you don't care. And then she smiles, and brings your foreheads together.

- Thank you. - She whispers before kissing you. She walks away too quickly in your opinion, but you can't say anything because the producer is calling you next, announcing that the interview starts in two minutes. You smile at Liz before getting up.

//-//

Seven years ago.

You had just finished filming your last scene in Age of Ultron when your agent called you. Scrolling your finger quickly across the screen, you answered while your cell phone rested on the table in your dressing room, and you kept your hands busy trying to pin up your hair.

- I'm leaving the studio, Sara, what's up? - you told her.

- I wanted to congratulate you on the affair, although I'm surprised it happened so quickly. - She says and you frown in confusion, finishing up with your bun. You pick up your cell phone next.

- What are you talking about?

Sara giggles, and sends you an attachment. You pull your cell phone away from your ear to look at it. It is a photo of you and Elizabeth, your teammate and romantic partner in the franchise, taken the same day you discovered Liz had social anxiety and took her out for coffee with you to take her focus off the celebrity world for a while. The paparazzi managed to capture the exact moment when you kissed her on the cheek in farewell.

- This is all over the gossip sites as Marvel's mysterious romantic couple. - Your agent commented, and you rubbed your fingers across your forehead in irritation.

- You want me to publicly deny a relationship, is that it? - you ask, walking around the dressing room and gathering your things.

- What? No! This is great for advertising. - she says with slight excitement in her voice. - Especially after the movie comes out! Fans love couples who fall in love behind the screen.

You roll your eyes, switching your cell phone to your ear.

- I'm not going to make a relationship contract if that's what you're thinking! - You say with irritation and can imagine Sara rolling her eyes on the other end of the line.

- Yes, yes, we've been over this, Miss Morally Correct. - She scoffs lightly. - But I really called to talk about the premiere. We have details to discuss.

Sighing, you ask her to wait. Then you finished putting your things away, and grabbed the phone as you walked out the door.

//-//

Six years ago, California

Interviewers can be motherfuckers when they want to be, you thought as you bit the inside of your cheek, trying to keep your face impassive as you watched the woman in front of you list the "missed moments" from the Avengers set. You knew that your agent had talked to the show's staff about the authorized questions, and yet here you were on live television, having to declare whether the timely photos taken on the Avengers set meant that you had a secret relationship with your best friend Elizabeth Olsen.

A slideshow was playing on the screen behind you. There were pictures from the footage, many where you and Liz were laughing together, or having lunch together. There were some where she was sitting on your lap, or vice versa. Your expression softened when you noticed one where she was looking at you adoringly. It was so strange to be an artist sometimes. You smiled politely at the presenter.

- Come on, Ellen, you know how these things are. - You said. - Things are different on camera, Lizzie and I are friends.

The audience let out a chorus of displeasure, and Ellen laughed lightly.

- You know that many of the fans would like this rumor to be true, especially since you two play a couple and you are openly queer. - She says, and you wiggle your fingers in your lap, uncomfortable with where this conversation is going, but you nod in agreement. - Furthermore, you say that the paparazzi cameras are deceiving, but what about the stories you post on your personal networks?

She asks with a chuckle, and then other videos are playing on the screen, and you force yourself to smile and watch.

The vast majority are harmless, and platonic. You spend a lot of time at Liz's house because when she moved in, you were her reference and tour guide, and so you got into the habit of checking up on her. And then you became friends and you spent more time at her house than at yours.There were many videos and pictures on yours and her instagram where you two were tending a garden, playing board games, cooking together, or watching sports. You bit back a smile as you watched the memories through the images.

- See?It's hard to believe that this is just platonic. - Ellen insisted again, and the audience laughed. You tried to cover it up with a smile. - But since you claim to be single, we're going to play a game now. It's called "Who Would You Rather?

The audience applauded and you giggled, straightening your posture in your chair. And then the studio screen had a sign with the name of the game.

- It's very simple, you just have to choose which of the artists you would rather. - She explains, and you blink.

- Rather what?

Ellen lets out a giggle, and you understand, nodding in embarrassment. The audience laughs. The picture changes to two pictures.

- Who would you rather, Scarlett Johansson or Chris Hemsworth?

- Wow, that sounds like a trap. - You comment awkwardly, making the audience laugh. And then you bite your lips. - I think Scarlett.

Ellen gives you a suggestive look, and the audience chuckles, you force yourself to imitate them. The picture changes again.

- Scarlett or Sebastian Stan?

You laugh, smoothing your hair slightly.

- I don't know, I think Seb. - You answer. And then the picture changes again, and you want to run away when the audience gives a chorus of excitement.

- Sebastian Stan or Elizabeth Olsen?

- There it is the trap. - You comment clumsily, causing the audience to bust out laughing. You swallow dryly and look down at your lap before saying. - I'd say Elizabeth Olsen.

You played for a few more minutes, and then the game ended with you choosing Elizabeth at the end, which got the audience cheering and celebrating. When the interview was over, Sara was calling you, and you were massaging your forehead when you answered.

- I thought you said you two weren't dating. - She teased, and you grumbled in irritation.

- I thought you had discussed these matters with the staff. - You retorted, slightly irritated. - She only asked me about Lizzie and dating the entire interview.

- Honey, you're America's sweet couple. - She sneered. - Ellen wants viewers and will ask the questions that the audience wants to know.

- That's ridiculous. - You said and then sighed. - Why did you call me anyway?

- I have your new shooting location, so get your coats and jackets ready.

//-//

Six years ago, Berlin.

You are laughing at Anthony's imitation of Robert. Sitting in the shared dining hall, you were having a good time over lunch with your other colleagues while you were recording Civil War.

And then you were in scene again, many minutes later, and you found it strange that the nervousness was crossing beyond your character during a specific scene in which you were counteracting with Elizabeth.

You saw her laughing at a comment your character made, and you should have this expression of surprise and embarrassment, but you didn't even have to act it out. Your cheeks reddened naturally at the image of Liz laughing. And then the director said cut when you were done and you were rushing out to clean up your makeup.

Later that day, after the shoot was over, the team wanted to visit a local pub, and you accepted the invitation, ignoring the previous event, and smiling when Elizabeth touched your arm to get your attention.

- A toast to the Avengers! - shouted the camera crew chief when you were all gathered at the bar, you thought maybe he had had too much to drink, but you joined in the toast.

You stood next to Lizzie and Chris at a table while sipping a dark drink that might have been craft beer, or something German.

Your cell phone vibrates with a notification and you choke in surprise at the content of the message. Sara had sent you a note from TMZ, stating that your secret romance with Elizabeth Olsen was threatened because you had been seen leaving a coffee shop with Katie McGrath.

Chris and Lizzie look at you curiously, and you just lay your cell phone down on the table for them to see while you turn the entire glass of beer in your mouth.

- Wow, so your type really is super heroines. - Chris commented with a smile, and you laugh, pushing him away slightly.

- I swear, I can't be seen talking to any woman that she is automatically my girlfriend. - You say irritated as you put your beer glass back on the table. Your gaze returns to Lizzie, who has picked up your cell phone from the table and is reading the news. Then she hands the phone back to you, and gets a strange look on her face that you can't read very well, but she forces a smile.

- At least you cheated on me with a pretty girl. - she says and you frown in surprise. Chris laughs at the joke, but before you could have any other reaction, the rest of the team is joining you.

//-//

Five years ago, California.

You gave up fighting the questions about your relationship with Elizabeth. They would happen anyway, whether your agent talked to the teams or not, so you just smiled politely when you told people you were just friends and remained truthful in your statements.

Usually the interviews with Lizzie were easier, because you went into protective mode and your brain was ready to give sharp, snappy answers to keep Elizabeth from being embarrassed.

So here you were on the Night Show, with one of your favorite interviewers, and your best friend by your side. Jimmy was asking good questions, and he was funny. You hoped he wouldn't ask anything too embarrassing.

After many questions about employment, and worldview, which was refreshing, he finally asked you about the rumors of your secret relationship.

- Girls, you know that the public wants to know. - He began with a smile, and you laughed lightly, exchanging a look with Lizzie. - And actually, we have arguments this time.

- Here we go. - You commented with light irony which made the audience laugh.

Your latest posts on instagram were visible on the big screen.

- Last Tuesday, both of you posted these stories on your personal accounts. - Jimmy started with excitement. - And it rocked the internet completely, because the location was visible on your instagram, Elizabeth.

Lizzie let out an embarrassed giggle.

- Well, if the public's doubt is whether we were together there, they can confirm it. - She said, and Jimmy let out an excited exclamation. Lizzie waited for the audience to stop their celebratory chorus before speaking again. - But this was a special celebration, since it was my birthday.

- And I took her on a trip to Mexico. - You completed the story with a slight smile. The audience let out a chorus of happiness and you looked at them in confusion. - Guys, friends do this!

Jimmy and the audience laughed for a moment and then the image came off the screen.

- Come on girls, you're giving us material. - He remarked with a smile. - And you're still going to deny the relationship like you always do, I imagine.

You and Wanda exchange a short chuckle.

- Look, Jimmy, all I have to say is that Lizzie is amazing, she really is. - You saw yourself confessing. - Anyone would be lucky to date this brilliant, spectacular, sweet, fun-loving woman. But that person is not me.

Jimmy lets out an exclamation of sadness along with the audience, but then they applaud your words, and you smile wryly. You risk a glance at Lizzie for a second, and she has slightly flushed cheeks, and looks surprised at your words.

You ignore the nervous feeling at the pit of your stomach, and decide to keep your posture polite as you answer the next questions.

//-//

Four years ago.

You had to kiss Lizzie. And then you shook your head. No, not you. Vision. Your character, Vision, had to kiss Lizzie's character, Wanda Maximoff. And you repeated this like a mantra as you walked from your dressing room to the set.

The day you read this scene, you smiled politely at your agent, and disguised any apparent nervousness. And then you spent the last few weeks pretending that if you didn't think about it, eventually the director would make a change and the scene wouldn't even exist. But here you were, trying to have one last drop of professionalism.

You weren't even recording the scene officially, it was just the rehearsal of lines and marking, and you had sweaty hands.

As you walked through the studio, the staff smiled and greeted you, and then you spotted Lizzie and ignored the uneven beating of your heart.

- Let's get started girls. - announced Russo as soon as he caught sight of you. He signaled for you to follow the team's prearranged schedule. You smiled at Lizzie as you took your place. - We can test the order of the scene directly. I need to know which angle is best to have Vision ask Wanda to stay with her.

And then you started recording. And now you were Vision. There was no time to think about how naturally your hand fit into Lizzie's, or how good it felt to feel her hugging you. And then Russo shouted cut again.

- That's pretty good. - He commented, looking at the monitor. - Let's shoot the stone scene okay, then the action scene.

The scene started, and you said your lines the way you were supposed to. And then you were looking at Lizzie, and she kissed you as the script said. You held the sigh in your throat, and pulled away. Vision doesn't sigh, so you shouldn't either. And then you are smiling as written, and the director closes the scene again.

You were getting pretty good at hiding how affected you are by Lizzie the more you kiss her onstage. And then you wrap up the day's shooting, and you are mentally exhausted. You want to sleep in your dressing room, but you decide to go home.

And as you are walking back to your car, Lizzie calls out to you.

- Hey, partner. - She greets me by walking beside you. - Don't you want to go for a drink tonight?

You let out a sigh, ignoring the urge to shout that you would go anywhere with her, and thinking about how tired your body is.

- I'm exhausted, Lizzie. - You tell her, and she looks upset, but you add with a smile. - But I'll take it if it's something at your place.

Lizzie's face lights up quickly, and she nods, and then says she'll leave something in her car. She returns when you are already in yours.

- All set? - You ask to confirm, and she smiles and nods. And then you start the car and drive out of the studio.

Lizzie turns on the car stereo a moment later, and you begin humming the song.

- You've been distant lately. - She comments distractedly as you drive away. - You know you can talk to me, right?

You smile, ignoring the feeling in your stomach.

- Yes, Lizzie. - You say without taking your eyes off the road. - I'm just busy, that's all. It's nothing.

Lizzie makes a noise of agreement and looks away. You think maybe she believes you're not telling her the truth, and you feel guilty. So you decide to change the subject.

- How are things at home, Liz? Are Mary-Kate and Ashley well? - you ask, and she looks at you quickly.

- Everything's fine. - she says, and then she bites her lip. - Did I do something?

You frown, glancing quickly at her before looking down the street again. The light was red. And when you turn your head toward her, she lets out a sigh.

- You don't talk to me anymore. - She says seriously, looking at you. - Since Berlin, you're just distant. Always busy, and with ready-made answers. And now you try small talk, even though you hate it. I wish you would tell me what I did wrong.

Your heart is racing at the accusations, because she is absolutely right. And then you swallow dry, and prepare to speak, but then Liz is pointing ahead, the headlight has opened. And you have to drive, and she crosses her arms and looks away to the window.

You drive the rest of the way to her house in silence, and when you park the car in the driveway, she mumbles a goodnight before getting out.

Squeezing the steering wheel in your fingers, you take a deep breath. And then you get out of the car, and the noise of the door opening surprises her because she turns to look. But you are walking toward her, and raising your hand to the back of her neck, bringing your mouths together. Lizzie chokes in surprise, but in the next second she melts against you as she kisses you back.

You part breathlessly, holding your foreheads together.

- I am in love with you. - You confess. - I'm sorry I was a complete idiot, but I was terrified.

Lizzie giggles, kissing you again quickly before hugging you. And then she is breaking the embrace to look at you, a shy smile on her lips.

- I'm in love with you too. - she says. - I'm glad that's the problem and not something else.

You laugh, and kiss her one last time before entwining your hands and walking toward her house.

You decide to take things slow, so naturally, two weeks later, you ask her to be your girlfriend over dinner. Lizzie smiles all night, but you know that if this is a secret, she can't wear the ring.

Public relationships mean contracts, and agents, and unwanted questions, and lots of opinions about your lives. And you two wanted to keep that to yourselves for the time being.

So when directors comment that your onstage chemistry is amazing, you two just nod and thank them. When the interviewers ask if you are together, you deny it as before.

The first time you sleep with Lizzie, you almost break the bed. And it's all right, because you two are laughing with happiness and pleasure, and she pulls you in for another kiss. And you entwine your hands, the commitment rings on your fingers.

A year and a half later, you are getting very busy with your participation in a youth series, and there are many rumors that you are dating your co-star, so Lizzie is jealous and you can't blame her.

You decide that the secret cannot go on any longer, at least not to your friends and employers. So you talk to Lizzie, and you both call your agents. Sara laughs for ten minutes when you tell her, but she is happy to talk to Lizzie's agent. You are not public yet, but it is important that all parties are in agreement. You hate bureaucracy, but you don't mind as long as Lizzie's hand is in yours. Your friends are very happy, and the other cast members tease you constantly about it.

When you shoot the last movie, you think you are going to be fired because your character has died. But then you and Lizzie get a series together.

You try not to overthink how you will deny the rumors on television, but Lizzie kisses you on the cheek and tells you that you will face it together.

It takes three more months for you to propose. You think your chest will explode with happiness when she accepts.

And then you are calling your agents again, and Sara almost faints when you tell her that you got married in secret at some registry office in the Caribbean and she needs to get the paperwork sorted out. When you get back to California, there is a small ceremony with your family members.

//-//

Present

You and Lizzie are sitting side by side in the interview. The questions about WandaVision are over, and now you know from Jimmy's expression what he is going to say.

- The last time you were here, I had only an instagram post as an argument for your secret relationship. - He says, making you, Lizzie and the audience laugh lightly. - But now I have talked to the production and they prepare a presentation.

- My goodness. - You remark, making him laugh. And then he waves to the big screen, and you try to disguise your nervousness.

A presentation of images began to play to the audience to the sound of "honeybee" by the band "The Head and The Heart". There are several studio shots, from photo rehearsals to behind-the-scene moments. There is a picture from the day you met, from the first cast test, from the Avengers taping, paparazzi shots of you laughing in the parking lot, or in the open areas. There are pictures of you walking around Los Angeles together, pictures of your rides, or your travels. There are clippings from instagram stories where you spend time together, laughing and hugging. The presentation ends with the BTS photo of WandaVision from the first day of recording where you have your arm around Lizzie, and the two of you are laughing.

You clear your throat away the emotion, but Lizzie wipes her eyes lightly.

- That was very beautiful. - She comments as Jimmy hands her a piece of tissue paper. The audience bursts into tears of excitement.

- I guess we can get to the part where you deny everything now can't we? - Jimmy jokes and you smile and straighten your posture.

- Actually, Jimmy, we have something to announce.

#wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #wanda x you #wanda maximoff x reader #wandaxyou #elizabeth olsen #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen x you #wandaxreader #wandamaximoffxreader #wandamaximoffxyou

2K notes · View notes

in-tua-deep · 3 years ago

Note

Ok I totally want to hear more about this survivors au/Delores is real! How do the siblings handle having this different version of Five? Five may be better adjusted but he still has to heard his family around like a bunch of stray cats. What happens when Hazel and Cha Cha show up? How do they find out that Vanya causes the apocalypse and how does Five handle that revelation?!

here is the thing, i think the survivors au has the potential to be HILARIOUS

no one knows how to handle a well-adjusted five, and this absolutely includes the commission

So you mentioned Hazel and Cha-Cha?? Five in this au was not nearly as absolutely feral as he is in the show bc he knows how to interact with people - he was raised by a competent adult and a weird best friend and they occasionally saw other survivors as well

please picture old Five hanging around the water cooler and chatting with Hazel

the other funny thing is that Five is competent passing - he is well adjusted emotionally but functionally?? Hazel is out there complaining about dental being cut and office parties and budgets and Five is there sipping his drink having never filed taxes in his life. Five doesn't know what the fuck a dental plan is, he was a child soldier and then lived in an apocalypse.

So please picture for me Hazel being like "okay I know corporate wants us to keep what we're being paid to ourselves but fuck that, workers unite, what do you get paid as a legend old timer?"

and five is like "you're getting paid? i get to not get tossed back into the apocalypse, I think"

"but what about expense forms? what about medical care?"

"I'm like 80% sure i'm being experimented on, actually." Five says nonchalantly, "Don't get me wrong, my idea of medical care is fucked by being a child soldier but I'm pretty sure regular people don't have electrodes attached to their heads every time they get a checkup. Could be wrong though! My ex-dad used to monitor my brainwaves while I slept so like, my idea of appropriate shit is fucked, you know?"

This is a Five who was raised by Rick, he is polite to his coworkers. If Dot asked him if he wanted to grab lunch, Five would have gone and grabbed lunch with her or politely said that he couldn't.

Cha Cha only ever talks to Five when she wants to talk shop, so they've had a couple of conversations about weapons but not much else tbh, Hazel just tends to be more personable

So when they're sent after Five, Hazel is much more hesitant to kill who he perceives as a "work friend" and also is definitely thinking about all the times Five casually revealed a way the commission was being highkey shady about him, such as the potential experimentation, no pay, working under duress etc. He's much more easily turned against the commission because he's even more primed to say "fuck the commission" than he is in canon

Hazel out here like "how did Five break his contract when Five wasn't even being paid? I kind of want to read it."

Hazel out here like "I would unionize if I didn't think the commission was anti-union enough to send literal assassins after me if I suggested it :/"

meanwhile with the siblings

Five just. talks over them a lot and makes so much sense that it's actually really hard to argue with him, and he's weirdly considerate of his family's obligations

Like Diego is like "i have to go see Patch" then Five is like "that's great I'm proud of you buddy, it would actually be really handy to have some law enforcement read into the situation if you think she's up to the task. that goes for everyone by the way! If y'all have people you trust, more bodies would be super helpful I think"

the entire family, collectively, who have like zero trusted social links: uhhhhhhhh

Diego, with this weird permission, probably?? Does? Awkwardly attempt to read Patch into the situation? Patch is, obviously, like "what the fuck, Diego" but probably goes with him to the mansion (????????) because she's concerned and then meets his fucking whacko family with their superpowers and suddenly everything is 100% more realistic

Five is just like "yes hello I'm aware I look like a child, i'm actually in my late 50s or early 60s (apocalypse time amiright) because of time travel stuff. Yes I am Five Hargreeves who went missing in like 2002 or whatever. anyway it's lovely to meet you, i'm so glad diego has someone he trusts, and considering my sibling's shifty looks when i told them to invite anyone they trusted this genuinely makes me concerned that Diego is the most socially well-adjusted of them."

"That cannot be possible." Patch says, like someone who has met Diego Hargreeves.

"You haven't met the rest." Five says sympathetically, "In our defense we were raised in isolation as child soldiers."

"That... explains so much." Is all Patch can say to that, "But you seem..."

"I'm adopted." Five waves away.

"We're ALL adopted." Diego grits out, very aggrieved by this and also not sure if he likes the fact that Patch seems friendly with Five, or at least is listening to him?

"I'm double adopted."

However! With the recruitment of Patch, herding Diego becomes like 90% easier.

Honestly the worst to herd are probably Luther and Allison? Luther because he's Number One and resents Five taking charge and also resents Five's casual dismissal of Reginald and also suspects that Five (or at least the commission) has something to do with Reginald's death?

Allison because she is torn between following Luther and helping him and helping Five but also calling Patrick and Claire at every possible moment while ALSO trying to repair her relationship with Vanya. She's flighty - she'd bail on a Five-apocalypse-assignment if Vanya mentioned being hungry or if Luther called or anything like that

Vanya likes to be included and, if asked, would probably drop as many current obligations as she can. Like she would probably cancel her teaching if Five genuinely and sincerely asked her for her help, which he does because he's 100% sure Dolores would manifest in front of him and smack him if he dared even imply someone without powers wouldn't be helpful

Vanya is like "I'm not sure if i'll be helpful - I don't have powers ):" and Patch is like "wtf are you talking about - my superpowers are Gun, Backup, and Reading Comprehension and i am like the most useful member of this team right now"

Vanya gets a confidence boost just from hanging out with Patch honestly, I think they should be friends

Klaus is thrilled to be included are you kidding?? He says he does it for money but he's just happy to be there and also as one of the most emotionally intelligent siblings he is mildly concerned about the fact that Five looks like he's about to cry and also emotes

Five also gives Klaus positive reinforcement, hugs, and Five absolutely weaponizes the I'm not mad, but I believe that you can do better and I'm going to give you more chances because I love you and fully believe that next time you'll be amazing way that Rick used on him.

I feel like Five ends up saying something along the lines of "I understand that x is really important, and we're definitely going to look into it. Is it something that needs to be addressed right now, or is it something that can wait until after April 1st? If it can wait, I can write it down here on this list so we don't forget. If it can't wait then we can figure out a time to address it and help you" a lot

Like Grace malfunctioning and potentially killing Reginald?

"We don't have to make this decision right now." Five says patiently, "Because Grace is a robot, we have some options. Living with a robot who is potentially malfunctioning and homicidal is dangerous, but Luther saying that means admitting that Reginald might have made a mistake or error with Grace's programming or upkeep. I haven't been here for a long time, but I remember Reginald being very precise. Regardless, this isn't a choice between permanently shutting her off or not. We can shut her down temporarily until we can fully address the issue. We can ask and see if there is a 'system reboot' option or some sort of system check that Grace can undergo. We can try find and hire an expert to take a look at her programming to find the issue."

Five gives this speech while like, organizing the weaponry in the house on a table very nonchalantly

Five out here making buzzer noises at his siblings arguments like "yeah no that's a false dichotomy and a strawman's argument, want to try again?"

(Look apocalypse nights were long and they had games that were literally about arguing pointless shit like ranking types of chairs or the best way to break out of a prison without powers and things could get heated)

"Who died and made you boss?" Luther demands.

"Uh, the world? Were you not listening?" Five asks, looking very purposefully confused.

It gets even MORE delightful when Five reads Rick into the situation because a) he promised and b) his siblings really have like, no connections jeeze

Rick fully believes that this is his son from the future, like Five introduced himself, but Five skipped out on a few key details. Such as being adopted.

So Rick spends a solid chunk of time just staring at Five, who looks basically nothing like him, trying to think like, who is his mother ???? if we save the world will Five stop existing? why would I name my child 'Five'? Does everyone have powers in the future? was there like... a radioactive apocalypse? would radiation give future humans superpowers? when did my life turn into a comic book? am i even allowed to ask these questions? will knowledge of the future fuck things up?

and then when Five comes back and is like "what is up everyone this is my dad Rick who will be joining us, he doesn't have any memories of me thanks to time travel but if anyone is mean to him i WILL kneecap them"

"Your DAD?"

Five does kidney punch Klaus for saying that Rick is a DILF but otherwise everyone just is like, warily looking at this Normal Dad Man in confusion because?? This is the dude who raised Five, who they watched take out like an entire commission team by himself yesterday? He looks so. Normal.

Rick is very confused and like, wonders if he's supposed to be the team mascot? But Five keeps involving him and asking his opinion and in return Rick enforces snack breaks and makes everyone sandwiches and has gentle talks with everyone

Every time Five notices someone about to blow he just lovingly makes sure that that person is alone in a room with Rick

Luther ends up crying on the sofa with Rick gently patting his back as Rick calmly states that Luther seems like he's put a lot of time and effort into his family and making his father proud and that since Reginald isn't here to say it, Rick will have to be the one to say that he's proud and that they've been dropped into a difficult and stressful situation - so soon after Reginald's death when they're still grieving! - and he's doing so well

Luther, experiencing unconditional positive paternal regard for the first time in his life: i don't know why i'm crying so much

honestly this is just a comedy of juggling the gang, having impromptu therapy sessions and discussions, investigating the apocalypse and the eye, leonard trying to meet vanya continuously and failing because she's constantly surrounding by family or rick/patch, the commission trying their best to bust up the dream team/isolate Vanya/kill or remove Five, while Hazel lives out his romcom dreams with Agnes and also says "fuck the commission"

#HUH?#survivors au #well adjusted five au #long post #far tua long #five recruits rick to be team dad #rick is DEEPLY confused #but he's the kind of person that rolls with it #dolores probably ends up tagging along as well on at least one occasion #dolores and patch bond #five pretends that dolores is a new sibling and not his dolores #five calls rick 'dad' and it messes with everyone else #patch is on team fuck-the-apocalypse(-and-reginald)#vanya is never alone so fuck leonard #five finds out that vanya causes the apocalypse and is like #vanya: HUH?#luther: maybe we should lock vanya up -#rick: are there are any other possible actions that might be more appropriate in this situation?#vanya: i could try get more meds to take and we could address the powers thing after april 1st #vanya immediately gets validated that reginald sucks #even luther who has had multiple conversations with rick is like 'dad... didn't always make the best choices...'#everyone: :0 #hazel doesn't kill patch so he probably joins team anti-apocalypse at some point #hazel: why are you a child #five: oh you know i'm young at heart and all that #OH forgot to mention one of the main differences in this au is that five like properly grew up this time #so while he is inconvenienced by his body he's not so deeply uncomfortable or angry about it #just resigned #'this might as well happen' - five #five probably makes jokes about it as well

127 notes · View notes

teddy06writes · 4 years ago

Note

sum angst for sapnap x quackity x karl x reader if requests are open, i dont remember if they are, and if u feel up to it

sapnap x karl x quackity x reader + sleepy bois x sibling!reader

trigger warnings: yelling, swearing, character death

this is an in game au so be aware of that

premise: you’ve been on the inside, spying on Shlatt for pogtopia, you thought you had had him convinced that the spy was Tubbo (Who knew just about nothing about pogtopia) but during the festival Shlatt asks you to make a speech... after the festival, things begin to fall apart

(y/n/n)- your nickname

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“And you’re sure about this? You’re positive that it’s him and not Quackity?” Shlatt asked.

The festival was in two days, Wilbur’s plan to blow Manburg was in place, and suddenly huge evidence of things you had berried was piling up. Your entire position as Pogopia’s spy was at risk.

“I’m positive Mr. President. I caught Tuboo poking around in some tunnels, trying to talk to TommyInnt just yesterday,” You lied straight through your teeth, “The log I found behind the files proves it.”

You held up the book, truly a work of your own notes, signed in you co workers hand.

Shlatt took it, quickly skimming through the pages, “Hmmm, this is significant evidence to condemn the kid. We’ll have to do something about.”

“Maybe we should exile him, like Wilbur and Tommy.” You suggested carefully.

He considered it for a moment, a wide jagged grin spreading across his face, “Or... we could execute him,” He seemed to take pleasure in your shock, “Publicly. We have been needing a slam finish for that festival.”

“Shlatt Tubbo is just a child!”

Shlatt glared down at you, “Sorry, what was that? It almost sounded like you were trying to go against the word of the president.”

The threat chilled you to the core, and you strained to stay calm, “With all due respect Mr. President, Tubbo is only 16, and there are other ways to deal with insurgents.”

“Insurgents? As in there's multiple now?” Alex strode into the room, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as you breathed a slight sigh of relief.

“Yes, your partner here has just informed me that our dear Tubbo is a traitor,” Shlatt slammed the journal onto the desk, ignoring the glare Alex gave him when you jumped, “He’s been spying on Manburg for Pogtopia.”

Alex reached for the book, flipping to the last page and reading allowed, “If there is ever a time to strike, it would be during the Manburg festival, though it is worth noting Wilbur’s plan of destroying L’Manburg should be put off as long as possible.”

“When I caught them in the tunnels under the city, they were talking about tnt,” You said, the shake in your voice all too real, as forced tears began to prick in your eyes, “Wilbur’s going to blow it up.”

Shlatt looked at you clearly searching for something, but giving up once you fully began to cry, turning to burry your face in your boyfriends shoulder.

The president sighed, annoyed, “Get them outta here Quackity, I can’t work when there's fucking crying in my office.”

“It’s probably just the stress, sir. I’ll get them home.” Alex carefully led you out of the white house, and you were grateful, unknowing how much of the emotion was real or not.

“Oh god! Is (y/n) okay?” Karl asked as soon as Alex had gotten you to where he was decorating party island.

“Yeah, they’ll uh- they’ll be alright. Shlatt, Manburg, stress, you know?” He eased you down to sit on one of the benches, and quickly Karl moved to sit and wrap his arms around you.

“Hey, I’ve gotta get back to work. I’ll see you guys tonight.” Alex quickly pecked at your cheek, and then Karl’s lips before heading back in the direction of the white house.

“What happened?” Karl asked softly once he had gone.

You sniffled, leaning into his embrace, “Work’s stuff. The festival’s getting stressful.”

“Yeah, well I’m helping Tubbo with the last of the decorating tomorrow,” He paused, “You’re missing Wilbur and Tommy aren’t you?”

You nodded, “I miss them and Techno and Phil. I miss home.”

Your duties as a spy didn’t entail much seeing your brothers, just taking down notes of what was going on in Manburg and leaving them in a remote chest for Wilbur to collect later.

“We all miss home. But think about it this way, if you hadn’t come here, you wouldn’t’ve found me, or Alex, or Nick,” Karl said, looking out at the rest of Manburg, “We wouldn’t have this place without you or your brothers, and even Shlatt can’t change that.”

You smiled a bit at that, “Thanks Karl.”

“And! You don’t have to worry about decorations for the festival cause I’m helping Tubbo with it tomorrow!”

Though it was meant to cheer you up you felt your heart sink lower, he and Nick still didn’t know, and wouldn’t about what would be planned for the festival, but hopefully Alex would understand the burden.

“So why is there a festival?”

Nick had just arrived back in Manburg from a while’s stay in the SMP, and was very confused by the posters lining the streets.

“Shlatt wants to celebrate democracy, so he’s had Tubbo and I organize a festival.” You explained.

He cocked an eyebrow, “And what does Wilbur think of this?”

Nick was still the only one who’d found out about your allegiances to Pogtopia, only by mistake, when he’d caught you making the journey back from the cavern.

“Wilbur thinks it’s an opportunity,” You sighed, quickly scribbling down a new messege to the boys, “Techno think’s it’s a waste of time and energy, the anarchist energy’s been shining through more and more lately.”

“So who do you agree with?” He asked carefully.

“Neither, Wilbur’s gone manic, Techno is- well he’s Technoblade, and Tommy just goes along with what Wil says.” You tucked each note into an envelope, folding them between the pages of the newest set of notes.

You looked up to meet Nick’s eyes, “I’m worried about what Friday will bring. I’ve tried to throw Shlatt off my trail and it seems like it’s working I just-”

You broke off as Nick wrapped his arms around you, “Hey, it’ll be okay. And if he tries anything, I’ll be there to protect you,” He chuckled, “Hell, maybe it’ll be the only time your brothers and I agree.”

“Maybe.” You mumbled.

“Woah! Are you guys cuddling without us?” Karl feigned shock as he came into the living room with Alex.

“I would never!” You forced a laugh.

“(y/n), come on, we’ve gotta go get ready to meet Shlatt.” Alex nudged you.

You sighed, starting to snuggle back into Nick’s grip, wishing the small amount of morning calm would last, “Do we have too?”

“Yeah, you know he won’t be happy if we’re late.”

You looked at Karl and Nick, still mostly asleep, and then back at him, quietly admitting, “I’m scared today could change everything.”

He sighed, immediately shifting back down into be, “I suppose we could stay a bit longer.”

Slowly, the other boys woke up, but the room remained in silence, as if everyone could feel the coming tension, as if even moving would shatter the peace of the day.

Carefully, Karl broke the silence, “We’re gonna be okay guys. The festival is gonna be awesome. Wilbur wouldn’t do anything to ruin it for (y/n).”

“If what they found out is true, you guys could all be at risk.” Alex murmured.

Nick sighed, “I don’t care who’s bad side I get on, it’s gonna be anything to keep you all safe.”

Each of you heard a different meaning behind his words, but still none of you spoke.

“Whatever happens today, we’ll make it through, the country, may not.” You said, voice wavering, but still with a note of finality.

By midday the festival was in full swing, and surprising your older brother had actually shown up for the festivities.

“Strange seeing you here,” You laughed, nudging him, “A celebration of a government.”

“It’d be rude to turn down an invitation ta one a these,” He sighed, glancing around, “Where’s your boyfriends hanging around at, I haven’t threatened them yet today.”

You chuckled, “Q’s helping Shlatt with the last of the prep for the speeches. Sapnap’s supposedly trying to figure a way to cheat Fundy’s dunk tank and Karl’s over there.” You gestured to where he, Tubbo, Sam and Bad were running around at Party Island.

“mmm, hey, uh, your note the other day, you weren’t serious about framing the kid right?”

You sucked in a breath, tightening the grip on the sword at your side, “It was him or Al- Quackity, I couldn’t do that to him. Whatever they’re planning I’m going to stop them.”

Techno look back at the stage warily, “I’ll back you up if I can.”

Soon everyone was being called to take there seats in the audience as you, Tubbo, Alex, and Shlatt took to the stage.

“Well everyone!” Shlatt addressed the crowd, “Thank you for coming to this wonderful celebration of democracy! Things sure have gotten bet around here, I’m gonna give the mic to Tubbo, the main organizer of this event, for his speech.”

Tubbo grinned, shuffling his notecards as he took Shlatt’s spot in front of the microphone, “Hello everyone! I’m honestly so excited to be here right now!”

As Tubbo rambled on about Wilbur and Tommy’s banishment, you stood back, wishing you could’ve stood on the same side of the stage as Alex.

Looking out over the crowd gathered you tried not to let your gaze wander to Tommy and Wilbur, who you knew were perched on the top of a near by building.

“And uh yeah! To democracy!” Tubbo concluded.

You could almost here Alex chuckle as he started to turn to the chest on the side of the stage, ready to grab the materials to box the boy in.

“That was nice, hey, uh, (y/n), dear (y/n), my secretary of state, I uh, I hate to put you on the spot here, but uh, why don’t you come up and make a speech?” You blood ran cold at Shlatts words.

On the other side of the stage Alex froze as well, out in the crowd no one suspect anything, so you clasped your hands behind your back to hide the tremors and moved in front of the microphone.

“Well, uh hi guys! I honestly didn’t except to be up here making a speech today, so I’m not quite sure if this will even turn out coherent,” You laughed, out of the corner of your eye you noticed Tommy tensing, “I remember, soon after I followed my brothers to this land, we fought in a war. L’manburg’s war for independence was long and hard, and I often thought we would never see a better time, but standing here, it is very clear to me that this country has changed since the election.

“This country, since gaining it’s independence has changed my life, and it weighs on my heart that My L’manburg has a ruler such as Mr. JShlatt. We fought for this land, my brothers and I, and here we are today, with so much progress made! So, my friends, my colleges, here's to Our L’manburg!”

Everyone began to cheer, only to be cut off my Shlatt’s harsh laugh, “Oh, (y/n), it’s Manburg now remember? or did you forget while you were off conspiring with your brothers in Pogtopia?”

Tubbo pushed a still frozen Alex out of the way to grab the materials, beginning to box you in.

“S- shlatt?” You quickly turned on the emotion, turning frantically as they caged you in, “Shlatt what are you talking about?”

“Shlatt what the hell are you doing?” Alex asked.

“Oh, you didn't know? Your partners a traitor!” Shlatt laughed again.

Alex turned to you, now trapped between the throne and the mic stand, looking betrayed.

“I didn’t do anything! Shlatt! Please!” Though a few days before most of the emotion had been real, but now you were thankful for your acting skills, blubbering, “Alex! Alex look at me it wasn’t me! I didn’t do anything!”

Down in the stands Nick was halfway to standing, pushing Karl back down into his own seat.

“Or really? So that book wasn’t forged? That chest you used to pass messages? You tried to turn them against me!” Tubbo exclaimed.

“I didn’t- I- I would never betray my country!” You sobbed, forcing tears to leak from your eyes.

“Oh shut up,” Shlatt turned to the crowd, “Technoblade, front and center, get up here.”

Shakily Techno stood, quietly moving up to stand on the stage as Alex backed off the stage, looking between you and Shlatt with mixes of betrayal and shock.

“What uh, what you need me up here for Shlatt?”

“I want you to take care of them, make a public example.”

Techno coughed awkwardly, “You- you want me ta kill m’ sibling?”

“No!” You exclaimed, “Techno please...”

Shlatt glared at you, “Cut the crap (y/n)! We all know you aren’t actually this god damn emotional!”

Sapnap was fully in the isle now, sword drawn, and up on the roof You saw Wilbur clamping a hand over Tommy’s mouth to keep him to keep him from giving them away.

Sighing you wiped away the fake tears, “You have to admit, Shlatt, you believed me, you trusted me!”

Shlatt just rolled his eyes, “Techno get on it, snap too! I’ve got places to be.”

Techno slung his crossbow off his shoulder uncertainly, “(y/n)?”

All the fear from the morning came flooding back, but you shoved it down, leaning forward, to make eye contact with Shlatt, “You kill me now and nothing will change! This place will still go down hill and my brothers will still plot against you! All my secrets go down with me!”

“Shut your mouth and die already!”

Your nails dug into your palms, “Don’t make them watch Shlatt, have some mercy, if you want to kill me kill me, but don’t make my boys watch, don’t make Techno do it.”

“Get it over with!”

You leaned forward, gritting your teeth, “You heard the man, kill me.”

“(y/n), I can’t- you- yo- I-”

“Do it.” You hissed.

Time slowed, and Techno slowly raised the crossbow.

You looked out, past him, over the rolling fields of L’manburg, your home.

Niki out in the crowd wore a look of horror, hiding her face in Eret’s shoulder, who wore a simillar look for fear. Fundy wore a steely expression clearly close to breaking, Sam looked down right terrified, as Bad hid his eyes in his hands.

To your left Tubbo looked scared even though he’d put you in the cage, you were glad it was you and not him.

Shlatt wore his usual evil grin, pupil’s dilated.

Up on the roof, Tommy, your little brother looked horrified, Wilbur still holding him back with a neutral expression, Techno, now directly in front of you, was nearly in tears, your big brother, who swore to protect you, now being your end, it seemed almost poetic.

Behind him Nick was running up the isle, sword drawn, though you knew he’d be to late, Karl, lip quivering sat frozen, and Alex, his face still was filled with betrayal.

You looked up, took a deep breath and then time resumed, Techno pulled the trigger and everything went black.

{(y/n) went off with a bang}

It was cold.

Dark.

You didn’t now where you were as you drifted through a world you barley recognized.

Where was this?

How did you get there?

Vaguely you remembered a festival, your brothers, plus your boyfriends, oh how you loved them.

Your friends had been there too.

You looked back down to see L’manburg, ‘home!’ you thought happily.

You drifted towards your house, a voice in the back of your brain wondering, ‘why am I not walking?’

“What the fuck was that?” A loud voice cut through the air.

‘Nicky!’ you thought happily, following the sound.

“What the hell do you mean?”

‘Alex!’

You entered the room, finding them standing on opposite side, Karl, huddled in the corner.

“You are so fucking stupid! You know that? You let them die! They’re fucking dead because of you!”

“They were a fucking traitor! They got what was coming to them!”

“They loved you!” Nick screamed back, “They loved you and me and Karl, and their brothers! And now there gone! Because of You and Fucking Shlatt!”

What were they talking about?

“They fucking betrayed us! They betrayed Manburg! You saw the fucking acting they did! How do you know they ever loved us!”

From the corner Karl sobbed, and instinctively you moved to comfort him, but instead you passed right through.

‘what the hell?’

You had no time to dwell however because Nick shouted, “Etheir way you let them die! They’d be here if you’d interfered!”

“But I didn’t wooupdy do! They were a traitor!”

“They were trying to save their home!”

“WELL MAYBE THEY SHOULD’VE CONSIDERED THAT I WAS TRYING TO BUILD IT UP!”

“You and Shlatt never did anything but tare this place to the ground.” It was only a whisper, but Nick’s words sent Alex spinning on his heel and heading out the door.

“Fuck you! Fuck you! I am aware that my best isn’t good enough! So fuck you!”

The door slammed, and Nick only blinked a moment before Karl quietly asked, “Why did you do that?”

“What?”

“Now he’s gone too!”

Karl’s voice made your heart shatter.

“You think that’s my fault?! Clearly he didn’t give a shit about us, or them, other wise he would’ve stopped Shlatt.”

“They said we’d be okay! But we’re not!” Karl sobbed.

“I can fucking see that! God damn Karl! What did you except?”

“I-”

Before he could finish the door was slamming again.

Karl leaned back against the wall, staring straight through you whispering, “Why did you have to go (y/n/n)? You only just brought us together! We only just figured it out.”

#mcyt x reader #mcyt imagines #sapnap x reader #karl jacobs x reader #quackity x reader #sapnap x karl x quackity x reader #teddy06 writes

530 notes · View notes

wanderinginksplot · 3 years ago

Text

Bad Batch + Carnival (Part Two)

Read the first part of this story here.

Bad Batch and gn!reader (no pairing)

Features a lot of Crosshair, either platonic with reader or very early romance.

Word Count: 3,300

Warnings: Fear, depictions of a horror scenario, brief allusion to sexual harassment/assault.

This was stupid.

The witches of Dathomir revived their revered warriors to help defend the tribe against great threats. There weren’t just desiccated, partially mummified warrior women wandering around at all times.

Especially not ones who kept jumping out to try to scare passing tourists.

Before Crosshair had dragged you away from the rest of the Batch, the others had called pieces of parting advice.

Hunter: “Just keep walking and it’ll be over before you know it.”

Tech: “It isn’t as though it’s real. Remember it’s all a dramatization.”

Wrecker: “Don’t worry - we’ll probably hear you from here!”

Echo: “Try not to yell. If they know you’re scared, they’ll target you.”

Yeah, all of that made you feel so much better. At least Echo’s advice was actually helpful, but even then, only a bit.

“Let’s go,” Crosshair urged impatiently as the rest of the Bad Batch melted into the crowd. They were going to go on rides and get something to eat while you were being tortured.

“Sorry I’m not looking forward to something I very clearly didn’t want to do,” you told him, acid in your tone.

Crosshair heaved a sigh and grabbed your wrist. You pulled away from him - more from shock than anger, but his eyes narrowed. “Are you backing out?”

“No, I just-” you paused long enough to grimace. “I need to do this at my own speed. Don’t try to pull me through. It’ll make everything worse.”

Crosshair sighed again, but this one was less irritated than the first one had been. “If you can’t do this, I won’t make you. I’ll have each of the others take one of my guard shifts like Hunter suggested.”

“No,” you denied instantly, surprising you both. You squared your jaw, eyeing the laughing groups and costumed workers like they were a Separatist threat. “I can do this. I said I would and I will. Just- I need…”

Slowly enough that you had plenty of time to move away, Crosshair reached for your wrist again. When you held still, his fingers drifted over the bone of your wrist and down your hand until your fingers were twined together.

He was always so confident that it took you a moment to recognize the look on his face as nervousness. You gave him a broad smile to soothe him and yourself. You had no problem with casual touch, but Crosshair had always kept his distance. The fact that he was offering it now to make you feel more comfortable meant a lot.

Still, you could feel your smile fade as you turned back to the Dathomir setup. A wide, sweeping field dotted with trees, bushes, and tangled undergrowth led up to a dark cave touched with hints of electric green bioluminescence. Actors dressed in a holofilm’s version of Dathomir witches used the landscape to their advantage, jumping out at giggling visitors. Playful screams and friendly teasing filled the evening air, but the sounds coming from inside of the cave sounded a lot less joyful.

You hated all of it, but what you told Crosshair was unfortunately true: you had agreed to do this, to go through the experience with whoever won the games. The Batch had all put themselves outside of their realm of experience - Wrecker trying to be dexterous rather than strong, Tech being required to guess rather than know, Echo using his left hand, Hunter being overwhelmed, and Crosshair using brute strength. Even if a couple of them had cheated, how could you ask them to do something you weren’t willing to do, yourself?

“Okay, let’s go,” you announced.

Crosshair arched an eyebrow at you - the one with the thin tattooed line running through it - and squeezed your hand as he started slowly walking toward the entrance. He passed the tickets to a smiling human male who let you in with a nod.

The first few steps were pure torture. You knew that nothing would jump out at you - yet - but that didn’t stop your nerves. It felt like every inch of your skin was crawling, ready to get you out of there at the slightest sign of a threat. You were honestly starting to worry that you would just start sprinting the first time someone jumped out at you.

As it turned out, you weren’t far off. The very first time you passed a wild mass of vines and rocks sprouting from the field, a witch popped out at you and you made a sound of strangled terror, starting to run. Only Crosshair’s grip on your hand kept you there.

The witch gave a wild cackle and darted away into the darkness while you sheepishly smiled up at Crosshair. “Sorry.”

He seemed unbothered, lifting your clasped hands. “I knew you were a flight risk.”

The rest of the trip to the mouth of the cave was more of the same. Workers popped out anywhere they could hide to scare you before disappearing again. Every time, you tried not to run or make any noise, but it got more difficult as your nerves started wearing thin.

Just when you were about to reach your breaking point, Crosshair gave a low chuckle and leaned in to speak next to your ear. “Do you think they chose a Dathomir theme because they thought it was scary or because they ran out of money for costumes?”

That startled a laugh from you. “I haven’t even noticed their outfits,” you told him honestly.

“Not much there to notice,” he replied with a snort.

The next time someone popped out at you, you jumped, but made sure to look at her costume before she left. Crosshair had been right - she was wearing a red bandeau around her chest and the smallest pair of red shorts you had ever seen. The rest of the costume was made up of red strips of cloth artfully wrapping around her limbs and neck, fluttering behind her as she moved away from you on silent bare feet.

You laughed again despite yourself. “Poor woman. That can’t be comfortable.”

“Unlikely,” Crosshair agreed. “I hope they at least let them defend themselves.”

“Defend themselves?” you repeated, confused. “I mean, I know some people hit when they get scared…”

“Yeah, but some beings are scum and it only gets worse when someone is showing that much skin,” Crosshair said darkly. He jerked his chin over to another worker. You followed the motion and saw the female scare a couple. The male grabbed the worker, running his hands over her bare stomach while his female partner jeered and shouted encouragement.

Crosshair started toward them, but the worker jerked herself free of the male’s grip and rushed away as the female tried to catch at the strips of cloth whipping through the air in her wake.

“That’s disgusting,” you said, frowning pointedly at the still-laughing couple.

Crosshair scowled at them as well and they finally took notice, scurrying away at the sight of his menacing glare. “Even the average citizen can take advantage of someone in a bad position. Seppies aren’t the only monsters in this universe.”

You looked up at him in surprise. “I didn’t know you cared about anyone other than your team.”

“I didn’t before, but now… I just keep thinking: what if that were y- one of us? Any of us?” He shook his head sharply. “I wouldn’t let anyone take advantage of one of us that way.”

Your heart warmed a bit. Crosshair was the Bad Batcher you were least sure about. He always seemed so sharp and bitter. You were always worried he thought you were wasting their time. But you weren’t an idiot. You knew what he had been about to say: that he wouldn’t stand back and let someone take advantage of you. But had he cut himself off because that had given the wrong idea, or because he didn’t want you to know that he cared?

In the end, it didn’t really matter. “Good. No one should ever see someone else being taken advantage of and not step in.”

“Glad you agree,” Crosshair said. He subtly gestured toward his hip. “Want me to give them a real scare?”

“Are you asking if you should threaten to shoot them?” you asked, hoping that you had misunderstood.

“Yes,” he answered, face serious before he broke into as wide a grin as you had ever seen from him. “Kidding.”

You pretended to wipe sweat from your forehead. “Glad to hear it. Less glad that this means we have to go inside now.”

“As long as you’re still up for it,” Crosshair reminded.

It should have been comforting, an assurance that he wouldn’t push you, but his tone was so daring that you made a face in his direction before striding determinedly toward the entrance of the cave.

You only began to regret that choice once you had stepped inside. The cave was dark, and the only illumination came from the phosphorescent details on some of the rocks… Well, tombs, now that you looked closer, but still. The touches of bright green against the flat black of the cave were visible, but didn’t throw any light onto their surroundings. You would only see someone coming if they stepped between you and the phosphorescence.

From the scuttling sounds emanating toward you from various parts of the cave, none of the workers were kind enough to give you that much of a warning.

Crosshair stood beside you, his hand still clutched in yours as you wandered around aimlessly, trying to find a way through the cave while getting scared every few minutes by workers. At some point, you had realized that the most likely place to put a way through the cave would be at the back of said cave. You had walked toward it with cautious hope, but all you had done was lose what little ambient light had been filtering through the cave’s mouth.

You caught a glimpse of movement from the corner of your eye and turned to look, but you were too late: your nose almost brushed the heavily made-up face of one of the witches as she gave a chilling scream that made you gasp aloud.

You stumbled backward, falling into a graceless sprawl on the fog-obscured ground. Thankfully, it was covered with some kind of plant matter - straw, maybe? - and you weren’t hurt, just surprised. By the time you collected yourself enough to blink up at the witch, she had disappeared with a trilling laugh that echoed strangely around the cave.

“We have fresh prey, sisters,” a hoarse whisper announced, still managing to carry through the still air of the cave. “Gather.”

The slight sounds of bare footsteps in straw emanated from the darkness and you started shaking, trying to brace yourself for whatever would come next. What you weren’t expecting was to be grabbed in the darkness and lifted up into the air.

A cry burst from your lips before you could hold it back and a voice hissed, “Keep it down! We want them not to hear us.”

“Crosshair?”

“Who else?” he grumbled. “Now shut up until I can get us away from that group.”

Most of your mind was filled with terror, a rational response to being scared after being on-edge for so long. The little logical thought you were capable of hoped that Crosshair could see in the dark better than you could. If he couldn’t, there were very good odds that you were about to get slammed into a rock.

He managed to navigate you to a quiet section, setting you down beside a large rock. You stood for a moment until your shaking knees prompted you to lower yourself to the ground. Your fingers trailed across the slimy moss on the rock, then over the cool face of the stone itself. You ended up leaning against that stone, trying to collect yourself.

A deep sigh came from somewhere above you before Crosshair’s legs bent, lowering himself to your level. When he was squatting in front of you, he arched a brow. “What are you doing?”

“At this particular moment? Trying not to vomit.”

“Come on, I think I found the way out,” Crosshair said, offering his hand.

You held yours out, but even in the low light, you could see how badly it was trembling. Crosshair frowned at it, then at you. “Are you going to be okay?”

“Fine,” you breezed, like you weren’t about to pass out from nerves. A nearby scream made you flinch. You pressed your hands to your face to give yourself an escape from his intent eyes. “I just need a minute.”

Another scream echoed from the darkness, followed by another string of crazed laughter.

You heard an unfamiliar sound and flinched again, peeking out to find Crosshair settling to the ground beside you. You didn’t miss the fact that he had chosen to sit between you and the rest of the cave. You were mostly safe beside the rock, a fact you were extremely grateful for.

“What’s wrong?” he asked eventually.

With a dry chuckle, you said, “I was telling the truth - I hate haunted houses. I never hid that.”

“But why are you so freaked out?” he pressed. “I’ve seen you handle worse stuff than this, and you did a lot better with it.”

“Probably because it’s you,” you answered without thinking, forgetting to feel guilty about it until he had drawn back, looking confused.

“Me? What about me?”

Footsteps ran by in the darkness and you couldn’t concentrate well enough to come up with a believable lie. “I worked so hard to make you like me. You never trusted me and I know you don’t think I can do my job. Now you’re seeing me like this, being a coward, and it’s like taking back all the work I did.”

His dark brows were furrowed. “I don’t-”

You didn’t let him talk, though. You weren’t finished. “I know you only wanted to come in here to make fun of me. Go ahead.”

The sound of running footsteps came back, but they were getting steadily louder. That was the only warning you had before a worker jumped out at you with a shout and a burst of smoke released from some kind of handheld device. You only caught a glimpse of it, really. You had already ducked your head, shaking worse than ever.

“Are you kriffing serious?” Crosshair asked loudly. “Can’t you tell when somebody’s already scared, woman? Back off so I can keep things from spiraling.”

A very concerned-sounding voice asked, “Is everything okay? I can-”

“We need a minute,” Crosshair interrupted, his tone very firm.

“I’ll go tell the others to leave you both alone for a while,” she offered, disappearing again.

“I didn’t come in here because I wanted to make fun of you,” Crosshair told you after the silence had stretched for a minute. “I came here because I’ve been trying to get you alone and it keeps not working.”

You dropped your hands a bit so you could give a sidelong glance at him.

“My brothers are always around and you’re always busy, but… With this as a prize, I thought I could come with you and we could talk without the others interrupting.” He shrugged and smirked at you. “I didn’t think you’d be this scared, though. It’s really thrown a hydrospanner in my plans.”

“Plans?” you asked, letting your hands completely fall away from your face now. “You have plans?”

“Had,” he corrected, glancing at you and then away. “If I told you how much I admire you now, you might not believe me.”

“You have to admit, that doesn’t sound like something you would ever say,” you pointed out.

“It doesn’t,” Crosshair admitted, rubbing a thin hand over the back of his neck. “But maybe it’s something I should have said earlier. I know you can do your job and do it well. You can keep up with us on missions, which is impressive for any nat-born, especially a civvie. And I don’t think less of you for being scared.”

“You don’t,” you repeated, skepticism lacing your voice.

“No,” he affirmed, the firmness in his tone hitting a chord in you. “It makes you human. Everyone has something they don’t like. If your biggest flaw is that you don’t like walking through foggy rooms where actors try to scream in your face for money, you’re doing better than most beings I’ve ever met.”

“Thanks, Crosshair,” you accepted with gratitude. Seized with the need to be honest with the stoic sniper, you added, “And I admire you, too. You work hard to be the best at what you do. I know you guys like to joke about it all being because of your mutations, but I’ve never seen anyone put so much effort into their shooting, and you do it to keep your brothers safe. It’s amazing.”

“I do it to protect myself, too,” Crosshair reminded you, looking uncomfortable. “Don’t try to make me a saint.”

You hummed at him with an impish smile. “Yeah, I’m sure you’re in so much danger, hidden in vantage points around the perimeter of battlefields. It’s fine that you protect your brothers. You don’t need to be embarrassed.”

“And you,” Crosshair added suddenly, catching at your hand. His fingers laced between yours, enveloping your hand completely. “You’re part of the group. I’ll always keep you safe.”

You softened, opening your mouth to thank him again, but the worker returned, stepping loudly as if to give you a warning that she was coming. When she approached, you weren’t scared in the least, but she moved cautiously anyway.

With a friendly smile, she offered, “I got permission from my manager to take you guys out the back way so you don’t have to go through the rest of the house. If you want, anyway.”

You shook your head. “That’s okay, I think I can-”

“That’s fine,” Crosshair accepted for both of you. He stood up and brushed straw from his clothes before offering you a hand up. When you shot him a questioning look, he shrugged. “I got what I wanted.”

“Which was to..?” you trailed, hoping he would say something other than to see you scared.

“To talk to you,” he supplied immediately. “I never get that chance, but I’ve seen the way you do your work, the way you protect my brothers. I never had any disrespect for you. Kriffin’ figures that we finally get a decent civvie and you thought I hated you.”

“Well, I know better now,” you told him with a smile, both of you following the worker as she opened a hidden door in the cave wall. The moment it opened, the illusion of a cave was destroyed, bright fluorescent lights pouring in from a sterile hallway.

“This will let you out behind the cave section,” the worker explained, leading down the hallway. “But you can either circle around to the front or go straight back to the rest of the carnival.”

You groaned and Crosshair looked over at you questioningly. “I just realized I’m going to have to face the rest of the Batch and they’ll know I couldn’t make it through.”

Crosshair considered that for a moment. “Not necessarily. I wanted to try out that Ferris wheel. Feel like going again?”

“Sure,” you agreed easily. Now that you knew he didn’t hate you, you were less on-edge around Crosshair.

Instead of striding off quickly, distancing himself from you the way he always had. He stayed close to your side now, a tall and slender shadow. You smiled as you glanced up at him, amused at the image.

He was looking back at you, lips twitching upward as he asked, "What?"

"Just thinking how much better I feel now," you admitted readily as you followed the worker into the safety of the white-painted hallway that ran along the side of the cave. You made sure to add, "I still don't like haunted houses, though."

Crosshair laughed at that - an honest-to-Maker laugh - and you left the haunted house with a broad grin on your own face.

---

A/N - Unlike reader, I absolutely adore haunted houses! However, the workers are often mistreated in ways that make me furious. If you can't handle going through a haunted house without triggering the 'fight' half of your fight-or-flight instinct, that's fine. If there's a strong chance you'll hit someone, don't go through. If you can't handle going through a haunted house without sexually assaulting a worker, take a hard look at who you are as a person and seek therapy.

Anyway! Happy spooky season, everyone! Feel free to check out other works on my masterlist or request a fic of your own!

Taglist: @quietplaceinthestars

53 notes · View notes

preciousthingsareprecious · 4 years ago

Text

In Line at the Prize Counter

So this fic was originally intended to be part of Dick and Damian week, but life intervened and I didn’t end up finishing it anywhere near on time. That said, I found it too much fun to write and didn’t want it to live forever in WIP form. So, I hope you all enjoy this adventure featuring one Very Done Damian as he’s forced to rescue Dick from a Bomp n’ Stomp.

Characters: Dick Grayson and Damian Wayne

Words: 4,965

Summary: When Dick Grayson is kidnapped, Robin is the only one who really believes he's being held at the Bomp n' Stomp entertainment center. So he rolls up his sleeves, and heads into the dreaded building to rescue his brother from the likes of ball pits, twisted slides, and yes even go karts.

AO3 Link

Of all the places in the world Damian Wayne expected to walk into, a Bomp n’ Stomp was not one of them. In fact, he had argued viciously against ever entering the indoor playscape when his brother had suggested they spend a Saturday there.

To make matters worse, in an attempt to convince Damian of it’s legitimacy, Richard had called it an arcade.

An arcade .

The nerve of the man to sully that term by applying it to this ball pit filled, gum ridden, dirty carpeted, sticky establishment. A true arcade, like Shelly’s JoyCon, home of Cheese Viking, would never allow it’s door handles to leave a strangely greasy film on Damian’s gloves as he moved his search from a back room back out into the main area.

The inside smelled of old pizza, spilled soda, and that strange almost chalky scent of fog machines. It was, in a word, disgusting. Damian felt a pull at the bottom of his boot every few steps, like the carpet was coated in something sticky. He wrinkled his nose.

No, this was nothing like his favorite arcade.

Granted. It was also closed for renovations, with the promise of things like all new games, flooring, and yes even door handles. Still, Damian thought nothing could quite erase the smell of greasy pizza. That was a scent that stuck.

He shook his head. He needed to stop thinking about greasy pizza and continue working on why he was truly here. Some odious criminal had thought it a good idea to kidnap Richard on his way into Gotham.

It would not be stood for. Not someone snatching his brother. Nor holding him up in a place as terrible as this. To top things off, whoever had taken Richard had deprived both he and Damian of a perfectly excellent evening that should have been spent at the Observatory.

Damian sniffed and picked his way past skee ball games, an overly large wheel with inane words like “Double Prize Winner!!” in bold peeling letters on it, and the playscapes namesake, a Bomp n’ Stomp game.

At the Bomp n’ Stomp, he stopped to peer down at the curious game. It was obviously broken. The machine was little more than a garishly painted box with various holes covering the top. Out of one peeked a chipped plastic facsimile of a mole. Hanging off the machine were two objects strung on cords that looked ready to snap at any moment. The first was a toy hammer, it’s fabric ripped and leaking stuffing, the other a boot attached to a stick.

“Tt.” Damian discounted it and looked back up.

Whoever thought a game designed around attacking moles was a good idea surly must be a criminal.

He’d neared the end of the ‘arcade’ portion of the building and was entering a larger more open space. The carpet changed from soiled red to blue spotted tile. At the change, the ceiling rose at least a second story above him, towering high enough to fit a series of large structures.

To one side of this new area rested a climbing wall. It, out of everything Damian had seen so far, actually looked interesting. Even from here he could see portions that might make for a mild challenge in climbing.

Next there was a multistory play set filled with slides, jungle gyms, large netted areas he supposed children were expected to crawl through, and so many tunnels it would put most professional guinea pig enclosures to shame. A sign outside the entrance indicated that somewhere towards the center of the structure rested a huge ball pit.

Damian really, truly, hoped Richard had not been placed within that. If the rest of the Bomp n’ Stomp was sticky and dirty, the ball pit must be truly foul. He could not even imagine what had happened within it or what--he grimaced-- fluids could have coated the orbs.

He turned to the last attraction, a small go kart area. Perhaps the climbing wall was not the only redeeming quality to the establishment. Provided of course that the carts actually moved quickly.

So far, he had seen no hint of Richard. His brother had not been hidden behind a garishly colored game, and he did not seem to be dangling from the climbing wall. After a brief examination (and admiration of the engines on the small cars) Damian determined that his brother was either being held in one of the staff areas indicated by the back wall or-- He glanced at the huge play place.

After a moment’s hesitation, Damian squared his shoulders. As detestable as it would be to crawl around in there, he would do it if it meant rescuing Richard from being trapped inside. He could not imagine being held within the structure longer than a few minutes. It would be torture indeed.

The truly strange thing about his investigation so far had been that no one had attempted to stop him. There were no guards at the front, nor the back, and the building was empty of signs of life. The power was on, with some games sluggishly lit or playing bites of music, but Damian had not seen anyone besides himself.

He considered this as he made his way to the entrance to the play structure. He knew for a fact that Richard was here, even if Father did not.

Damian pushed the plastic draping away from the domed entrance and stepped inside the structure. He was surrounded by net, his feet no longer on solid ground, but pressed into some kind of foam. Ahead of him was a rope ladder that looked designed to be as unstable as possible. He sighed and began to climb.

Of the three possible locations Richard could have been taken to the Bomp n’ Stomp had been deemed least likely by his Father due to the fact that it was not altogether abandoned. While, over the weekend no one would be inside, the possibility of a worker coming in was high enough Father had assumed any capable kidnapper would discount it.

The other two locations, an empty ice cream parlor, and an abandoned junk yard, had been deemed higher priorities and dangers. But something had told Damian that the Bomp n’ Stomp was the right location, and he had argued that it should be checked out.

So while his family was split between the other two locations, Father had reluctantly allowed Damian to check out his hunch, promising to meet up with him after they'd cleared their own locations.

The ladder exited onto a platform made entirely of the netting Damian had seen from outside the playhouse structure. Tentative, he pressed a hand into the thick black cording, and when it gave less than he’d assumed it would, he climbed atop it.

Balance was a tricky thing on the strange floor, and Damian could not help but think the League would benefit from installing something of the kind in one of their training rooms. It turned a normal floor into something to be treaded on with care or risk getting a toe caught between the net. If he was unlucky he might end up tumbling to the ground or twisting his ankle. Damian couldn’t imagine it filled with children.

He was keeping his ears open for any sounds of either Richard or the kidnappers. From the letter and accompanying picture Father had received there were at least three men holding Richard, but there were sure to be more.

Father had immediately identified the men as being part of a relatively new gang in Gotham. Their motive was both money and an attempt at scaring Bruce Wayne into cooperating with them in the future.

Damian scoffed at their foolishness as he hopped off one platform and onto another. His eyes went wide as, instead of the net he’d grown used to, the floor rolled under his feet.

He bit back a yelp as his feet slipped forward, and he went tumbling, hands pinwheeling out beside him in an attempt to catch his balance. He stumbled back, then forward, then one leg was in the air, followed by the other and Damian was staring up at the faded yellow ceiling of the play place.

For a moment, he lay there blinking up at it. Wondering about the strange flatness, and remembering this thing had another level above him. If someone was above him, would he see imprints of feet? Sections weighed down by a kid stepping over it?

It did not matter. What did, was finding Richard and escaping this cursed place.

Damian felt the floor under him, and realized it was not a single solid piece, but four cylinders that each rolled on their own. Whoever had designed this place was a madman. Putting a trap like this in a place where anyone could fall could only spell injury on a normal day.

He grunted, and carefully pushed himself up, moving off the shifting section and onto firm foam again. Well, not quite firm. It sagged with every step Damian took, but it was far better than the rolling part or the net.

The next hurdle came when Damian reached the tunnels. He had seen them of course, out looking up at all this. Plastic, colored brightly, sometimes one segment a different color altogether than the last, little windows dotting the sides. But he had hoped he’d find Richard before having to crawl through one.

He crouched and stepped inside. After a few moments he realized he was going to have to actually crawl. He wrinkled his nose as he pressed palm to plastic and began moving. At one point his palm stuck and after a moment, he pulled it up to reveal gum pressed into the green of his glove. Richard had better be thankful for what Damian was putting himself through to rescue him.

The space was tight, and as a defensible position it was terrible. If a fight took place within the tubes it would not be good. Even Damian, as small as he was, would have a hard time maneuvering within them. He’d have a better chance of winning a fight in some of the Batcave’s tighter spaces.

They were also impossible to be silent in. Every inch forward created squeaking or creaking or the echoing sound of a knee hitting against plastic with a series of thumps that were anything but rhythmic. Any chance of silently finding his brother was dashed a minute after he entered them.

Once Damian realized that, he no longer bothered trying to move slowly through. Instead he hurried, around turns, down dips, and up tiny plastic hills. He was thankful for the extra padding over his knees and the leather of his gloves. If not for them he was certain his palms would be red and irritated and his knees bruised.

Damian was in such a hurry to get through the tunnels that he missed the slide. One moment his hand was pressed into plastic, the next it fell into nothing. His momentum was such that he’d assumed it was another dip, a temporary fall.

But no.

His next hand hit nothing, with the other was still in air, and then Damian found himself staring down the tube of a slide, and hurtling down it face first. It twisted, and turned, and at one point his chin caught on a portion of the plastic that was raised. Damian winced, feeling the plastic scratch his skin, sure he’d be wiping blood away if he ever exited this terrible contraption.

At last, he burst out. He got one good look at a space enclosed by netting and more slide exits before he saw what was below him. To his growing horror, the ball pit waited. Staring at the pit in bullet time Damian decided this whole place was ridiculous. A death trap made for children . Even Nygma could not come up with something so fiendish.

Nothing Damian could do would stop his crash. Balls of yellow, red, blue, and green exploded around him, bursting up and into the air even as his trajectory took him down, deep into the pit. He was drowning, and yet not.

After a moment he realized he’d stopped moving. The balls around him had coalesced into a kind of solid form that still allowed him to move. It took some work, but eventually Damian righted himself and managed to semi-swim upward, kicking off against the ground before shooting back up. And at last, his head popped out into clear air.

“Robin!?” The surprised voice came from his left.

Damian shifted, careful not to sink again, “Richard!” he cried, then corrected himself, he was in uniform and Richard was a civilian. Even here, the kidnappers might be watching.

“Mr. Grayson, I am here to rescue you.”

Richard actually snorted, an aborted version of what would have been a startled laugh. He was half buried in the ball pit himself. His torso and head above the sea of color. Rope was tied around what Damian could see of his chest, presumably holding his arms back, but otherwise he looked fine.

It was a miracle Damian hadn’t plowed right into his brother during his wild exit from the slide. He’d landed a foot or so away from him, close to the middle of the pit. The problem was, figuring out how to get both himself and Richard out.

Damian glanced around the enclosed space holding the pit. He counted four slides at various sides of the netting, and two rope ladders leading up. One to another tunnel, and the other to what looked like a real ledge.

“So, Mr. Robin , what’s the plan?” Richard asked, his tone far too delighted with their situation.

A scowl crossed Damian’s face, “Do not patronize me. It is your fault we are in this mess at all. Do you know how unsanitary this all is? From the pit to those cursed tunnels. Even the door was sticky.”

Richard gave him a patient smile, “But it’s not all bad right?”

“Tt. It has been horrendous. I do not know how you have survived.” Damian said, and began wading over to his brother’s side.

It was difficult to push through the pit, but he found that thankfully, the closer he got to an edge, the higher the ground under him was. It went from almost nonexistent, to high enough he could stand on his toes beside Richard. It was not ideal, but at least he was no longer at risk of being swallowed whole.

“There has to be at least one redeeming quality about this place.” Richard continued, “Even Robin must have liked something the old Bomp n’ Stomp has to offer. Maybe one of the games?”

“Nothing.” Damian answered, defiant even as he thought of the go karts and climbing wall, “Especially not the games. This place is childish, Richard. Childish and demeaning, and even you would not stoop so low as to drag me here.” he ranted, forgetting that he was Robin with a civilian and not Damian and his brother.

His brother’s smile was full of delight now, “You protest too much. I bet at least one thing caught your eye.”

“I said nothing.” Damian declared again, and sending balls flying, “Now come on, we do not have time to waste speaking of such moronic things.”

Richard cleared his throat, “Uh, Robin, aren’t you forgetting about something?”

Damian turned to see his brother shrug, plastic balls rolling away from him, and Damian caught sight of the ropes still binding his brother.

Fire lit hit his cheeks. He swallowed down the embarrassment and moved again to hastily slice at the ropes holding Richard’s arms to his sides. Even in his rush, he slowed as the blade neared his brother, the night would only be worse if he accidentally hurt him.

The ropes fell away easily, and soon Richard was massaging his wrists and stretching his arms up into the sky, “That feels great, thanks, Baby Bat.”

Damian ignored the nickname, and Richard’s attempt to reach out and ruffle his hair. He ducked and turned towards the ladder by the platform, “Come along, I would like to get you out of here as soon as possible.”

Richard hummed, “Yeah, I have no idea when those guys will be back, so haste is probably a good thing. Unless you already took them out?”

“The building was empty when I entered.”

Damian scrambled out of the pit and up onto the ladder. He climbed up, only to realize Richard had not followed him. When he turned to frown at his brother, he could see the man had stopped at the ladder, his eyes focused on the rungs.

“Richard?” he asked, voice quiet.

“I’m fine, just a bit dizzy. I’ve been sitting there a while, my arms and legs are tingly and just waking up.”

“What else is wrong.” Damian did not ask, but demanded the answer.

His brother shrugged, “I might have sprained my ankle when they tossed me in?”

Damian nodded, assessing the situation.

“Can you climb?”

If it were Damian in Richard’s shoes, he’d power through the ache, but he did not wish to press his brother into doing something he couldn’t. He could support Richard as they moved, and they could utilize a slide to exit this structure, but if he could not climb, getting him out of the pit might prove challenging.

Richard nodded, “I think so.”

He placed his hands on the rungs and started up. It was not an overly high ladder, but even so, Richard made it a few rungs before he paused wincing.

“Here.” Damian said.

He knelt down and reached out for his brother, “I will pull you up.”

Richard gave him a look that could only be described as incredulous. Damian glared at him in return.

“I can handle lifting you a short distance. Push off with your good foot and let us get this over with.”

After another moment of hesitation, Richard reached up and took one of Damian’s hands. His other, he kept pressed to the bars for leverage. Damian pulled as Richard pushed himself up. Below him the ladder wiggled a threat. However, he managed to grab hold of Damian’s other hand with a tight squeeze.

Richard was heavy, but together and with another awkward step onto the ladder, Damian managed to help drag him up. For a moment, they sat together looking at each other.

“Well.” Richard said, “I guess we should keep going?”

Damian nodded, “Indeed. I believe there is a slide exit in that direction.” he waved in the general area he remembered seeing one. At least he hoped it was there. His internal map of the structure felt a little turned around after his dive into the ball pit.

He helped his brother up, and they began moving through the rest of the structure. Damian stuck close to Richard, who insisted he didn’t need to lean on him yet. Still, he kept one eye on his brother, ready to assist if he showed the slightest sign of wavering.

They reached another area where solid panels switched to a rolled floor and Damian threw an arm out to stop their progress.

“Careful, that part can be deceptive.” he said, pointing down at them, “Allow me to walk you over them, so you do not injure your ankle further.”

Richard had an odd look on his face, a smile that seemed as if it hid another emotion, but Damian wasn’t going to worry about his brother’s reaction to his protectiveness. He always seemed to blow things like that out of proportion anyway.

They traversed the trap easily, and had just about reached the slide when a question that had been bugging Damian burst to the surface.

“Why were you in that ball pit? Surely there was an easier place to hold you.”

“Apparently, I talk too much.” Richard chuckled, “In truth, I was seeing if I could irritate them into letting me go.”

Damian couldn’t stop a surprised laugh at that, “It does not seem to have worked.”

Richard shrugged, “It was worth a try, it’s worked in the past.”

At last they reached the slide.

“I will go down first, so I can look for trouble and assist you if you have any problems.”

This time, Damian’s trip down a slide was a controlled one. It was a not altogether unpleasant experience sliding at a quick speed, and turning round and round in a spiral.

He couldn’t help but think back to watching Father, back when the man had lost his memory, playing with children on a large playground. A pang of want, not as strong as then, lodged in his chest. He tried to swallow it back as he popped out. Landing on his feet before he hurried forward to get out of the way.

Damian turned his attention away from lost memories and onto the rest of the Bomp n’ Stomp’s interior. His eyes ran from the go karts, paused at the entrance to the arcade portion, and moved over to the climbing wall on the far side of the room. Still empty.

“You may come down, it is clear.” he called up the slide. His voice echoed slightly up the plastic tube, sounding a little hollow and odd.

“Yeah!” Richard cried, his voice bouncing loudly down to Damian.

He could hear his brother swish and bump down the slide as he traversed it, the plastic rumbling as he reached the end. When he came out, he stopped himself with his hands at the exit, and carefully pushed himself to his feet, grinning.

“I don’t care how much you hate these places, we’re coming back.” he declared.

Damian rolled his eyes.

Before he could respond, there was the sound of metal on concrete. He spun on his heel and turned as a large metal door labeled Staff Only rolled up to reveal four very angry looking men carrying guns. By some stroke of luck, they hadn’t noticed Dick or Robin yet.

“We’re leaving now.” Damian said, grabbing Richard’s hand.

He made to run back towards the exit, but Richard yelped, his hand staying behind Damian. He froze, and turned on his brother, eyes looking over him. Richard was wincing and Damian remembered the man’s ankle. It must be worse than he’d let on.

Damian cast his eyes around him for something to get them out of there safely. He stopped when he saw the go karts.

“Can you make it there?” He pointed at them.

Richard’s eyes lit up, “Yes. That’s a big yes.”

Just in case, Damian hooked an arm around Richard’s waist to help support him, and together they hurried at a not quite run for the go karts. Just as Damian was helping Richard over the barrier separating them from the karts he heard an angry yell.

He glanced up to see the men running towards them, a cacophony of voices yelling at them to stop. Damian knew they had moments before the shooting started. He shoved Richard into the nearest kart that had two seats, and ran around to fiddle with the exposed engine. His earlier examination had been brief, but enough to tell him that the karts had safety measures equipped to limit their speed. That would not do.

His fingers were fast and clever, even working on an engine he’d never worked with before. It was moments and he was throwing himself into the open chair. Thankfully, a key was in the ignition and Damian had the kart roaring to life after a moment.

Just as he revved the engine, the gunfire started.

Damian threw the kart to the side, thankful the area the karts were in was somewhat open, and made a large loop, letting the cart pick up speed as he moved.

“Robin--” Richard’s voice was a question, “Just what’s the plan here?”

They were roaring towards the plastic partitions they’d only just hopped over. Damian was confident they were flimsy enough to ram, especially at the speed they were going.

He grinned, “We are going through them. I would suggest ducking. I do not wish for you to get shot while we escape.”

“Damian,” his brother hissed, “There’s an opening to the outside behind us.”

“To an enclosed area. The walls are high there, we would be trapped. This is our best option.” He'd seen the area when entering the Bomp n' Stomp earlier.

Even as he spoke they were nearing the path of no return. The kart raced towards the partition, the men racing towards them. Damian pressed his foot harder against the pedal and then the pointed front of the go kart was slamming through the short plastic partition, breaking apart the multiple pieces that kept it together and sending them flying.

Damian could not help but grin as one piece caught a kidnapper in the side, sending him tumbling to the ground.

He wove the kart through the remaining three as they yelled and one of them got off a shot. The bullet pinged off the side of the kart.

“Whohoo!” Richard cheered as they blew past the last man and sped through the building.

Damian pulled them back into the part of the building filled with various small games. The kart shook as it shifted from tile to carpet. The sound it made changing from a flat rumble to something more muffled. At the bump, Richard winced again. Damian frowned.

“We will be exiting soon.” Damian said by way of comfort.

He could hear the rumble of feet behind him, and even the sound of another go kart having been started. Damian snorted, unless they’d modified it, he and Richard still had the advantage. To make sure, he glanced behind him.

There was only one kart chasing them down, another two seater, with both seats filled. Unfortunately for them, it did seem to be running quickly. Damian swore as it began closing the distance between them. He threw himself back against the seat as the man who wasn’t driving leveled a gun at them and fired.

The bullet sped past them by a wide margin, but the danger was still there.

“Hold on.” he told his brother and pulled the cart around one of the games, twisting through the maze of Jurassic Park simulators and skee ball machines hoping they’d shake their pursuers.

“He’s still there.” Richard said, now taking Damian’s place in watching their backs.

“Lean back, you’ll get shot.” Damian hissed, “We need only make it out the front doors.”

Richard followed his lead, just in time as more shots rang out around them. Damian caught sight of Richard's worried expression out of the corner of his eye, but he didn’t have time to turn to him. He kept the cart moving forward, dodging games left and right.

At last, the doors were in front of them. Damian prayed the cart would trigger the door’s automatic response. As they sped closer and closer he started to wonder what it would be like to just plow through those too.

Then they swung open and Damian and Dick burst through.

Behind them, Damian could still hear the squeal of the pursuing kart. That didn’t matter however, as Damian’s eyes lit on the Batmobile. Father was already out, Red Robin beside him. It took them a moment to understand the extent of the chaos Damian had dragged outside, but soon they were moving too.

Damian pulled the kart around them, and heard the distinctive pop pop of something exploding. The men in the kart behind them yelled with surprise, and the sound of the kart cut off with a sudden deafness.

Feeling safe, Damian pulled his foot off the gas, slowing his own kart and turning it to drive closer to Father’s car so Richard would not have to limp far.

Turned now, they could see the other kart coated in foam. One of Drake’s newest experiments, and a successful one at that.

As they stopped, Damian grinned over at Richard, “See. As I said, we only needed to make it outside.”

Richard was grinning, and Damian found himself relieved to realize his brother was fine. Their mad dash did not seem to have resulted in his injury.

They sat in the kart as Batman and Red Robin took care of the two men in the other kart, and then moved inside to deal with the other two goons.

Damian leaned his arms on the steering wheel and gave Richard a small smile.

Richard, leaned forward to mirror him, elbow bumping against Damian’s, “Admit it, you had fun coming through there to rescue me.”

Damian considered the thought for a moment, “Never.”

“Ha! I knew you did.” Richard sat up, delighted.

“I said nothing of the like.”

“But your face did.”

“The go karts were acceptable.” Damian admitted.

Richard reached out and tugged Damian into a half hug, “Good, we’ll do go karts when we come back, and try the rock climbing wall. And I’ll win you enough tickets to get one of those giant stuffed bears.”

“Father could buy me one for less than it would take you to get those tickets.” Damian pointed out.

“That,” Richard said sternly, “is not the point. It will be a thank you, for the rescue and one of the most exciting nights I’ve had in a long time.”

Damian snorted, but leaned a little closer into his brother’s side. Watching as Batman and Red Robin led the remaining two men out of the building.

“I can accept that. I will allow you to bring me back to the Bomp ‘n Stomp when they reopen. Even if the doors are still sticky.”

#Damian Wayne #Dick Grayson #Batfamily #fanfiction #humor #fluff #this one's just fluffy you guys #kidnapping #rescue #Damian is out of his depth but that's not stopping him #Dick is having a Great Time #Precious Posts

114 notes · View notes

mxrcayong · 4 years ago

Text

part of @nct-writers’s cafe resonance collab!

genre: fluff, a more UK-based pov of university

summary: jisung, a college student now looking for a job, has decided to apply for a job at the local café. he thought being friends with the manager and its employees has it perks; from unlimited free coffee to whatever pastries haven’t been eaten by the end of the day. needless to say; the perks must end somewhere.

word count: 2317 words

note: i didn’t make the divider!!

College students practically live by coffee shops. If university was a religion, the on-campus coffee shop would be the bible. Daily, college students’ breath in the coffee beans like oxygen, feel the permanent imprint of coffee mug or a ‘to go’ cup on their lips. They’re surrounded by the smells of different fruity pastries and savory snacks, and the sounds of students either chatting or typing away on their computers.

It’s no wonder that the university coffee shop was practically a hub of activity. When you sit down to work at Café Resonance, it’s feels like you’re a part of a bigger and collective community, stressing for assessments or just taking a break from their hectic university schedules. It’s especially hectic when you’re a full-time student and work part time.

“Do I really need to get a job?” Jisung sighed, scratching his head as he leant against the barista’s counter. His six closest friends were working behind the counter: using the coffee machines and decorating the pastries. “Can’t I just use your employee discount on everything?”

Jaemin furrowed his eyebrows. “You know I want to, my little mouse.” He teased as he placed another order on his tray, “But I can only put the café employee discount on so many things.” He practically sung as he left, heading to a table to bring another set of students their own cups of their own ambrosia.

From the cash register, Haechan had just finished taking the orders of the last bunch of the line and immediately replaced Jaemin’s place next to Jisung. “You can always just become a sugar baby.” He suggested, coming over to the display case to grab one of the pastries to heat up per the customer’s order. “Or a pole dancer… aren’t you a good dancer?”

Jisung immediately protested. “Firstly, no. Secondly, is it even legal? I literally only became an adult this year.”

“Actually…” Haechan started to counter, only to be interrupted by Mark approaching with a raised hand and a dirty mop.

“Stop telling everyone to become a sugar baby.” Mark chided as he ducked to get back behind the counter, drudging the cleaning supplies with him. “You do realize that if someone does become a sugar baby, they aren’t entitled to paying for your shit either.” In response, Haechan grumbled under his breath as he gave the bewildered customer overhearing the odd conversation their fruity treat.

Jisung has visited his closest friends enough to know that working at the café is like a beautifully choreographed dance. It moves like clockwork; with the six doing their roles diligently and without question. So, it’s not unusual for his friends to come and go during the conversation – all taking part whilst separating themselves at the same time.

“Why don’t you just ask Chenle if you could work here?” Renjun suggested, coming out from the back room where he started baking some more pastries – obvious through his powdered apron. “We all work here already, and we can go through the ropes with you.”

Jeno immediately stepped in and basically rejected the offer. “Do you remember the last time we hosted an event and Jisung wanted to help?” He prompted, before chuckling. “He tried to wash the food with dish soap…and he broke the broom when cleaning!”

Almost as if the thought of teasing Jisung summons him, Chenle came out of seemingly nowhere. “Didn’t he leave the broken broom on the floor and just started playing video games?” Jeno, Haechan, and Renjun nodded – remembering the mess the 00-line apartment was that night.

“Not the best party we hosted.” Jaemin commented, going around the counter to make his own drink now that the list of waiting customers is gone. “But, still, Jisung learns fast. I think he could work here.”

Chenle let out an introspective hum, before leaning over to whisper to Haechan. With a questionable look on their faces, Chenle decided to call Jisung into the back room and in his makeshift ‘managers office’ (a perk of being family with the owner of the university café). “I’ll consider your application, but I can’t do any nepotism.” He started, “so, you must go through the whole application process.” He paused. “You must come up with your own recipe.”

With a rule to not discuss recipes with his ‘potential future co-workers’ – which Chenle weirdly specified as everyone but Haechan, Jisung had to get straight to work. In all honesty, he had no baking experience nor ever made a drink without a guiding recipe.

While his six closest friends were out of the equation, he had another friend he could reach out to; Y/N.

You were in his freshmen orientation group earlier this year. Not going to lie, you initially thought of each other as familiar faces who you’d occasionally wave at or nod in acknowledgement when you walk past each other. However, you later found yourself eating in the same hall cafeteria…and then the same hall pantry…and then, it clicked. You two lived only four doors away from each other in your university hall.

Needless to say, you two ran midnight McDonald trips basically on a weekly basis. You became integral to Jisung’s daily routine; from waking each other up for breakfast to storming into each other rooms, armed with complaints and rants about the shitty professor who made you read 300 pages for one night. Even on your busiest days, you two would always pick each other up for the hall provided breakfasts and dinners.

So here you were - Jisung was slouching down on your desk chair while you were resting on the bed, your back against the wall and a pillow in your lap as you tried to help Jisung solve his current problem. “Well…did Chenle give you a prompt or anything?”

Jisung shook his head, groaning back. “It’s not like we have a kitchen to try and bake either! We only have fridges and a microwave and a….” He tried to recall what was on the floor pantry.

“Just a fridge and a microwave.” You added. “That means pastries are off the table…how about a drink?”

Jisung groaned again. “I have a hard time making pre-made coffee!”

You couldn’t help but chuckle; you remembered that day. It was a scary time for you; your credit card company sent you a text about a fraudulent use of your student account. Not only did you end up stressing to the point of crying, but you also learned it was a false alarm. Luckily, while still reeling from the anxiety inducing news, you ran into Jisung as he was leaving his room. He then took you to the pantry to try and cheer you up with coffee…however, a fire alarm went off and practically deafened the whole university housing cohort for hours.

And poor Jisung…Jisung was just an awkward little mouse, trying to look innocent as he saw his exhausted neighbors clamber out into the park due to his attempt of making pre-made coffee.

“Well…you have me. This isn’t hopeless.” Climbing off the bed, you pretended to dust yourself off. “So, let’s go to the pantry? Another one of our…”

Jisung quickly furrowed his brows, interjecting while you still spoke “I don’t think this can be considered snacking…”

“Pantry-time dates.” You stuttered, obviously unsure of the title. Usually, you call them ‘cup noodle dates’ or ‘popcorn dates’; a joke that ran through your small group of friends as well as the resident advisors at the university hall.

No one likes being in the pantry. Especially the second floor. For one, things always get stolen; from cutlery to a six pack of coke. Secondly, the few times people use the microwave to heat up their meals, they tend to leave the leftovers to rot on the windowsill. But you and Jisung sit there together; maybe because something about it feels open and comfortable, despite the terrible smell. Plus…the two of you placed bets on who could be the thief when people awkwardly clamber on by, and if on one of these ‘dates’ you catch the thief obviously taking something that isn’t theirs? Even better.

But today… you two will have to be the forsaken thieves.

“So someone put chocolate powder in the fridge…” You commented incredulously, especially as this fridge is known for freezing things into ice in minutes. “There’s some…expired milk.” Jisung watched as you searched through the fridge for any hidden treasures; feeling more and more unsure of himself as you listed more and more ingredients. “Oh, okay, some non-expired milk. That will be useful.”

“We can make a latte?” Jisung offered, now on his phone searching up popular café drinks.

“Yes!” You enthused, finally feeling like this trip to the pantry isn’t useless after all. “But…we should probably write an apology note to the people we’re stealing from.”

It’s been almost five hours in the pantry. Countless of people came in (however, this time you tried not to place bets as you knew who the real thieves were tonight) and would just stare at the two of you, arguing over a kettle of milk. Even your neighbor Victor came in; having sat and watched you two for a good while (which made Jisung extra cautious; he’s had a theory about him being the forsaken pantry thief for a while). Victor, however, said you two should have a cooking show, to which you scoffed while Jisung basked in the compliment. This very same compliment crossed Victor off of Jisung’s “potential criminals” list.

Eventually, you had a drink in front of you. A chocolate latte that Jisung insisted on putting salt in, as “Modern Family said it was a good idea”. Admittedly, the first ten versions of this drink were absolute failures; making you go to the bathroom numerous times to vomit out the thick and almost flour-like texture.

So, for your final check, the two of you grabbed the non-eaten pastries Jisung brought home from the café. Hopefully, this will act as a palette cleanser; especially since tasting all of the failed drinks probably have messed with your taste buds and lowered all sorts of expectations.

After taking bites into the Suh-ndwitch and Henpretzel, you two finally took sips of the drink you attempted to make since 10pm – with Jisung making far too many references to the Powerpuff Girls opening theme.

Alas – the taste that flooded their senses wasn’t at all bad, no. Nor was it ‘a little bit of sugar and everything ice’, but it was something you’d expect from Starbucks. You two immediately squealed out of excitement, ignoring the fact that you probably woke the neighboring rooms up at three in the morning. Jisung immediately went over to hug your waist, spinning you around as fast as he could; before something unexpected happens.

You felt his lips on yours; tasting like chocolate and leftover ingredients that were remnants from his palette cleanser of a sandwich. The feeling was foreign; you never expected to kiss Jisung. He was your best friend, your neighbour; but his lips were soft…and something about this felt right.

But then the door slammed opened. A zombie-like RA came in and you two immediately jumped to different sides of the room. “I know you two always do your pantry dates, but…” The RA started, obviously sluggish from being woken up at 3am. “We got noise complaints.”

Jisung awkwardly coughed, apologized, and ran away; leaving you confused in the corner of the pantry.

Café Resonance were never busy Friday evenings. People were most likely out pubbing or preparing for their weekends of antics. So when Jisung stormed in with a recipe in hand, he wasn’t afraid to celebrate as loudly as if he had just won the Olympic World Cup. “I got the recipe! Can I please have the job?” He practically pleaded, dropping the piece of paper with messy handwriting and the sample drink you two whipped up again the night prior. On top of the page with chocolate colored stains were the words; “Hamji Choco Latte” with (served hot or cold) at the bottom.

“A recipe?” Everyone but Haechan and Chenle looked confused; with the latter two smirking in the corner of the room. But as soon as Haechan cracked and let out a loud laugh, Mark turned around and immediately recognized the culprits of this misunderstanding.

“Bruh,” Chenle let out throughout his charming ‘dolphin laugh’, “You had the job – I was just messing with you.”

Haechan pouted, approaching Jisung to ruffle his hair. “My sweet, small, dumb idiot…how much I love you.” He placed a sloppy kiss at the corner of his head, making Jisung immediately try to scrub it off.

Jisung scowled, upset he let himself get fooled by his best friends. “At least I got a girlfriend from it…” He mumbled, more to himself, but forgetful of how Jeno’s ears can pick up on anything. It was from my ASMR stint, Jeno would say.

“WHAT!?” He exclaimed, as if Jisung getting a girlfriend would happen the day pigs would fly.

“I sent you to make a café recipe, not a love potion!” Chenle cackled even more; while his fellow friends made him explain what happened.

By the time the store closed, Jaemin gave Jisung the ‘talk’ and warned that although they spent nights in each other’s rooms before, Jisung and you must be ‘safe’ and ‘protected’.

People always say the first people you become friends with at university don’t always stay friends for life. People tend to clash, find their hobbies, and go different ways. But Jisung was lucky. He met you; his best friend and now his other half. And despite the annoying prank Chenle made that wasted hours of your time, Chenle was right; the Hamji Choco Latte was basically a love potion as it brought the hidden infatuation you had for each other to light.

Now, every time he picks you up from your lecture hall, he brings one extra-large chocolatey drink to share.

“Email sent out to residents of NCU Hall:

Dear residents of the second floor,

The person who has been stealing cultlery and food has been identified. Victor Cho will be coming by to return any items that may have belonged to you.”

Jisung screamed at the top of his lungs when he got this email. “I TOLD YOU SO!”

#nct-writers #nct imagines #nct dream imagines #nct fluff #nct dream fluff #jisung fluff #jisung scenarios #jisung imagines #nct dream scenarios #nct dream #nct #nct scenarios #jisung drabbles #nct dream drabbles #nct drabbles

81 notes · View notes

bisexual-horror-fan · 4 years ago

Text

Stu Macher Sugar Daddy AU Headcannons.

So back when I did Kinky December, to close out that super fun event, I wrote this, fun little peice, an AU story about an older Stu Macher being your sugar daddy and it was on my mind and figured fuck it, why not do a personal headcannon post for this AU? If you like this and got any additions or ideas, have it, shoot me an ask or something! I like to think in this AU Stu has some big job he got via family connections in the financial district in New York and also while he and Billy have some certain tastes, they never indulged fully but that is part of where you come in! So let's get into it under the cut.

This is a sex worker positive space and sex work is valid work, if you don't think so, move on.

Rating: NSFW. Length: 1.5K. Warnings: Daddy Kink. General Poly!Ghostface Fuckery.

-Stu and you start this with the explicit implication of what your relationship was meant to be. He found you through the site you advertise yourself through for sugaring. The usual protocol followed after that. A date to determine how compatible you both were and you were both kind of surprised by how well you got along on that first date.

-You both obviously wanted to see each other again and so after discussing the usual things, expectations, wants, needs, allowance, and so the arrangement began officially.

-Neither of you expected how quickly it would escalate or how well you would truly get along. You and Stu got on like a house on fire. Conversation was lively and frequent, he was true to his word and gave even more than initially promised. Money was seemingly no object, he would pick up the tab without question, and would surprise you frequently.

-You dropped your other regular dates shortly after that. He didn’t ask you to but it was something you wanted to do, simply wanted to spend as much time as possible with him and be available whenever he needed and money wasn’t an issue at all anymore.

-It wasn’t just a business relationship anymore, developed into more than that and you couldn’t be happier about it.

-Yes you do call him Daddy, but not explicitly in public a lot of the time, something he asks, but it makes the times he TELLS you to call him it in public that much hotter. He calls you tons of pet names and you love it.

-He takes the title seriously. He actually CARES for you. It is about a hell of a lot more than just the sexual angle.

-You would stay over at Stu’s constantly, loved his place and he loved to have you around. He still insisted that you have your own place, paid for by him of course, he would even come by on occasion but much preferred to go out or have you over at his place. He liked you having your own space in case you ever needed it and didn’t want to intrude on YOUR space, even tho it was intruding at all.

-He loves to bring you to work events and show you off. Not just how you look and how well you are dressed and the finery he buys for you to trot you out in but also with the intelligent and insightful things you have to say and contribute. He also may or may not have given you pointers on shit pertaining to the business he was in prior to the event to make you look even better than you already were. You had done the going to work functions thing in your line of work a lot and were no slouch and it was something else that made this set up all the better.

-What is your poison because my God Stu is gonna be giving you it so much. You a fan of high end coffee? Yup you can count on him bringing you one or asking you out for coffee, dropping one off or sending someone over with one or hell getting an expensive and personal machine installed in your kitchen. You like getting your nails done? Well fuck how much babe, let him flash some cash and let you go get the most crazy nails your heart desires. You a foodie or a total lush? Lucky you! He loved going out to eat and for drinks. Or do you have a total shoe fetish? You getting any and all pairs of shoes you have ever even remotely laid your eyes on with even mildly passing interest. Clothes too duh, he loves to dress you up.

-So what interests you? Because Stu is interested in it now as well. He could listen to you go on about what was important to you for literal hours and you better believe he uses every little bit of info to better spoil you! While he loved to get you the more obvious things, food, clothes, money, basic luxuries you better believe he would get you items especially tailored to your hobbies and likes.

-Any place you ever wanted to travel too? Oh what a wild coincidence! All of a sudden a beautifully planned and paid for trip that Stu just HAPPENS to have tickets as well as his scheduled opening up all MAGICALLY coincides and you have the best time.

-The sex is insane. I mean duh, of fucking course, that happened early and often and was a big factor in determining your compatibility. He loved to spoil you in that way too, lingerie and toys and lavishing you with attention. My God he sure liked to use that mouth of his for more than just talking.

-He loves semi-public stuff. Loves pushing boundaries too. He adores going out for dinner with you looking just so dressed up and gorgeous and not being able to wait to get back to his place and fucking you in the back of the towncar on the way home.

-Having you suck him off under his desk at work on a lunch break.

-Having you ON that desk after hours.

-Fucking you on literally every surface of his apartment.

-So it doesn’t stay just Stu, you know that right? Once he is sure that you are an amazing fit he introduces you to Billy. Tells you that they have been friends for-fucking-ever and that you both liking eachother was important to him.

-You get along great with him too. You loved to see how they were together, he brought out this side in Stu that was so fun, not like he wasn’t fun usually but it was just kinda different, more playful you could say.

-You realize that you are introduced to Billy for more than just friendship.

-You are not opposed to this at all. You ask if they have done this before and the answer is yes. Sharing partners? Yep. Just them being together? Yes. Swapping? Naturally. Billy was hot and fun and treated you well too and again, the sex was fuckin’ good.

-So when the three of you were fully into the swing of this arrangement it was really fucking good. Plus you were literally never lonely. Some dates were just Stu and some were both and if Stu ever had to go out of town for some reason and you couldn’t come, well then Billy got you all to himself.

-He would insist that you stay at his place during those times to- “Properly keep an eye on you.” and you did not complain. Nights in with take-out that ended with you both on the couch or the mornings you’d share a shower before he had work or coming to his office all dressed up with lunch to impress his co-workers and maybe give him some head under his desk just like you do for Stu, all amazing.

His place was nice and you loved getting to have some time with just him, it was a great change of pace and Stu would love to come back to see you two being even closer.

-Stu coming back was so good too because of how he treated you when he missed you, a big date was a must after he was away and the way he fucked you after was specatular. The way he would whisper to you, asking about what you did this week and wanting to be filled in on all the dirty details of what you did with his best friend while he was away. You were all too happy to fill him in.

-Billy and Stu have some particular tastes. They suggest a weekend away, they have a game they want to play with you and you tentatively agree. You trust them both with your life and when you worded it that way the look they shared with a smirk should have been telling.

-A big rented beach house, a phone call, a “break in”, ropes and knives and costumes and more and oh my fucking God you got it. You understood it and were hooked and when it was all said and done and the ropes were being untied and you were still coming down with stars in your eyes and them praising the literal fuck out of you that they let it slip how often they had fantasized about this. That part of why they picked you, because Billy had been a bit more involved in the process of selecting you than you were initially made aware of, was how good they thought you would look being fucked by knifepoint.

-By what a-"pretty little victim you’d make” and well you knew you would be doing this again sometime. And it becomes a semi-regular occurrence in your sex lives.

-You spoil Stu in all kinds of ways. You surprise him with meals he loves, surprise visits when he is working, dropping in with the sweetest gifts, you try to remember all the little things he likes and love to listen to him. He knows he is in deep when you are traveling somewhere together the next day, a vacation, he works that day, comes back to his apartment to find you packed for him. You paid such close attention to detail and he felt so seen and appreciated.

-You do all the little things. Making breakfast the way he likes when you stay over, keeping in mind which clothes and lingerie he likes on you best, making notes when he particularly likes something you do or a color you wear.

-You still have your own life outside of your relationship. Friends and freedom, independence and it is all fucking great.

#BHF headcannons #Stu Macher #Billy Loomis #Poly!Ghostface #Sugar Daddy AU #I had a lot of fun with this #I gotta do more posts like this #You like?#Lemme know!

80 notes · View notes

need-a-fugue · 4 years ago

Text

Trustworthy (Chapter Two)

Summary: You’ve spent the last three years teaming up with Santiago Garcia on every mission you had a hand in coordinating… and the past several months plotting with him to take down the biggest bad to hit your radar. But even all your time at the DEA and all your experience in the field couldn’t have prepared you for this.

Pairing: Frankie “Catfish” Morales x Fem!Reader (slow burn)

Warnings: Language... shitty language. And maybe sheer size? This one’s nearly 6,000 words... I may have gotten a little carried away. 😬

It began as a drunken joke, a flippant what if…

“If no one else is gonna do it,” you’d slurred out, voice barely above a whisper despite the cantina being utterly empty aside from the two of you, “we should take the motherfucker out ourselves.”

He’d laughed at the time, and promptly cut you off before insisting on walking you home. He helped you along the uneven streets of Leticia, held back your hair as you blew chunks into a dark alley, even slept on your couch that night just to make sure you didn’t die in your sleep. That’s what he told you, anyway. But you suspected that Santiago stuck around that night because he just couldn’t get your words out of his head.

You hadn’t been so drunk that you’d failed to notice the way he went eerily silent following your seemingly ludicrous suggestion. You hadn’t been so far gone that you’d missed the sudden glint to his eyes, nor the crooked smile that wrapped around his face as you said the words, “I want Lorea dead.”

That next morning, he brought it up casually, asking – before you even had the chance to brush your teeth – if you remembered what you’d said. When you told him you remembered every part, he simply told you to go on, nodding slowly along as you dove headfirst into a painfully impulsive proposal, your words still tinged with a lingering, drunken idealism. You spilled out the disparate thoughts you’d been harboring for months, if not longer – the ones that together formed little more than the ill-conceived beginnings of a damn stupid plan – only to discover that they were precisely in line with what he’d been contemplating as well.

By the end of the week, you were introducing him to your longtime informant, a woman who’d worked for Lorea in some capacity for years. A gorgeous woman, whom you’re almost entirely certain Santi fell into bed with later that same night. And after just a few months of nearly constant off-the-record investigating – both of you becoming utterly consumed by the thought of bringing Lorea down – that crazy, ridiculous, fucked-up joke you’d made had become a highly illegal, morally questionable, might-just-get-you-fired-and-thrown-into-a-federal-prison plot for ending the reign of one of the premier drug traffickers in South America.

You’d started it. There was no denying that. You’d started the whole damn thing.

For nearly three years, you fought the good fight with Santiago Garcia down in Colombia. He was one of just a handful of people there whom you trusted. He actually was one of just a handful of people there you even really knew.

If you ever got to chose an advisor to head up a mission, he’d be it. Any raid that fell within your purview, he’d help to organize. Intel was slow in coming, CIs dropping off, bosses telling you not to leave Leticia and to remember to stay in your lane? No problem. Garcia to the rescue.

He was able to operate largely independently – unlike poor, bound-by-the-rules-and-regulations-of-the-DEA you. Local cops and the surrounding military actually liked him and never balked at bringing him in, mostly because he was more than capable of playing along with their bullshit. Hell, he was so good at it, that for the first few months you knew him, he had you convinced that he either completely bought into the very obvious corruption surrounding that Amazonian paradise, or – if he really didn’t see it – he was dumber than a fucking box of rocks.

But Santiago Garcia never missed a damn thing. And while he might have seemed to have written off the actions of certain officials or the peculiarities you both encountered, he never ignored – nor forgot – the individuals he suspected of collusion. He was just smart enough to know when to act.

You, on the other hand, well, you never were very good at not calling people out. For all your life, if you saw something that seemed funky, you’d say something… immediately. If you ever suspected someone of lying, plotting, taking bribes, just plain being dirty, you’d raise an accusing finger high. Hell, that’s the main reason you got sent down to that southernmost point of the country, transferred away from what you saw as being the real goings-on, to simply help keep an eye on the drug runs taking place at the border.

Santiago taught you to quell your initial reactions of raising a stink when you believed something was amiss. He urged you to stop seeing the word in a never-ending list of black and white rules. He showed you how to keep from boiling over and calling people out, a thing that undoubtably kept you from getting yourself reassigned somewhere you’d be less of a nuisance… again.

He also fed you intel, shared specifics of his suspicions, and helped get you into military-run raids where DEA might otherwise have been shut out. And in the time in between – when you would normally just stalk around your small apartment all alone or perhaps stalk about the city… also all alone – he provided friendship, that not-so-tiny thing you’d been lacking ever since getting transferred from your post and away from the workmates and friends you’d had for years in Mexico.

He was fun and sharp-witted and outgoing, eager to make friends with just about anyone. He invited you out for drinks, dancing, into local card games. And though you often wondered why – did he feel sorry for you because the local police and military alike treated you like a damn leper? Was he trying to show others that you were alright, despite being a gringa DEA agent? Did he simply want to fuck you? – you’d be lying if you were to say that you didn’t feel damn lucky he’d stumbled into your life and forced his friendship upon you.

And how did you repay him? For all of the invites he’d extended, all the drinks purchased, all the intel he threw your way, all the military-run raids he somehow managed to get you in on? All of the trust and faith he invested in you?

You’d set him on a path to ruin.

000

The bar was much larger than you’d anticipated, the quick drive-by you did on your way to the motel earlier this afternoon making the freestanding structure – out in the middle of nowhere, like everything else in this Bumblefuck, USA town – appear small. Maybe it was because the massive parking lot dwarfed it. Maybe it was because you were only half awake, at best, and just didn’t notice the size of the place. Maybe it was because Santiago drove past it at 65 miles per hour, alerting you to it – that’s where we’ll meet up tonight – just as you flew by, allowing little more than a meager glimpse.

Regardless, you expected… less.

But the place is huge. There are two bars on either side of the sprawling building and tables flanking the wide-open center, which you could only imagine would at some point be flooded with drunken townies, eager to dance the night away.

When you first arrived – well over an hour ago – it had been just you and a handful of incredibly loud bros populating the place. You took off for the far bar, ordered yourself a drink, and slinked into a large table in a dark corner, eager to remain invisible until Santi arrived with his friends… his crack team. But – just as you’d come to expect from Garcia – he was nearly an hour late, and by the time he and his brothers-in-arms strolled in, you’d already been spotted by the douchebags at the bar and had to fight off the advances of two separate assholes, each of whom only approached you when making their way back from the bathroom.

“I’m sorry, bonita,” Santiago had proclaimed with a wide smile and a not-at-all-stifled laugh after you told him of your troubles. He turned to face the group of strangers at the bar, caught the glares of a few of them, and shouted over a simple dictate to, “Fuck off!”

And that had been the cap to your introduction to your new co-workers. They strode in, all smiles and laughter and blooming drunken glows, coming from what must have been a great fight night, undoubtably made all the better by being together once again, only to be forced to shake hands with you… a jetlagged stranger, washed out in the low light, obviously frazzled by having a guy fresh from the men’s room – who probably didn’t even bother to wash his hands – wrap an arm around your shoulder and tell you that the bathroom door locks… in case you wanted to check it out with him later.

They took your uncomfortable story in stride, exchanging pleasantries and apologizing again for their tardiness – well, Will apologized at least – before grabbing some drinks and then plopping down at the isolated table you’d chosen.

For a bit, the group of them just talk to one another, tying up loose ends to the conversations they’d been having before arriving. You catch snippets of nah, man, she’s gone… didn’t work out and do you have any idea how expensive kids’ soccer is? as their conversation flows around you, seemingly oblivious to your existence. For those first ten minutes or so – save Santiago’s paltry threat shouted across the bar and Benny’s rather flirtatious introduction – the whole team settles in around you and acts as though you aren’t even here at all.

The only exception during this time is the pilot, Frankie Morales – had Santi called him Fish? He keeps quiet as the others speak, cracking a smile at their comments every now and then, but mostly nursing his beer and awkwardly picking at the label in silence. Every so often, he steals a glance over at you, as if to say, yeah, I know you’re here. His eyes are warm and friendly despite the otherwise utterly unreadable expression planted on his face.

Maybe you’re simply intrigued by the fact that he’s the only one actively acknowledging your presence, or it could be that you’re just rather curious to figure out what his placid expression is hiding. Or perhaps you’re merely a fan of the subtle beauty that his sharp profile paints on the background of the dark, seedy bar. Whatever the reason, you find yourself not just staring but gazing at the man long after he looks away.

“So, shoot me straight,” Will says suddenly, nudging your shoulder and tearing into your thoughts as he turns to face you. Your eyes bounce wildly away from Frankie’s face, a heat creeping up your neck as you light on the patient smile of the man next to you. “That file… it’s your work, right?”

“Hey,” Santiago scoffs from across the table, leaning over to backhand his friend in the chest. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Will’s face cracks and a deep rumble of a laugh spills out of him as he bites out, “It’s good work. Too good to come from your sorry ass.”

Santi scoffs, his hand flying to his heart with a wounded quality. You simply shrug, small smirk perking your lips as you feel some of the initial tension of the gathering – and the strange concern that you might actually have somehow become invisible – finally start to lift. “He helped,” you say, tone coy.

“Oh, c’mon,” Santiago gripes, giving you a slightly irritated, definitely amused look. “Half that intel came from me. The PNC, Colombian military, they barely even acknowledge you’re there.”

You interrupt with a snort and a scathing, “Yeah… it’s really fucking annoying when people do that,” before choking down the rest of your beer.

If he understands the jibe about your current situation, he doesn’t let on, instead pushing his point that, “None of them would’ve given you jack shit.”

“And the one informant who actually got all this started?” you counter, accusing brow raised high. “Who’s informant was that?”

His face begins to blush, just a bit of redness seeping into his cheeks, as he reaches out to grab your empty bottle. “She was mine in the end,” he mutters, shoving back from the table and rising from his stool. “I’ll get the next round.”

“Yeah,” you call out after him. “You owe me more than just a beer for stealing my CI!”

“I’ll get you a shot too!” he throws over his shoulder, never looking back as he makes his way to the bar.

You turn back to the men surrounding you, each of them now eyeing you warily, and a part of you wants to go back to when they ignored your presence entirely. Tom – what did Santiago call him? Redfly? – is the first to break the awkward silence, ticking his chin in your direction. “So,” he starts before pulling a long breath in through his nose. “DEA.” He overenunciates each letter and states rather than questions your affiliation, despite there being an inquisitive – or is it accusing? – glint to his eye.

“Yeah,” you say with a lingering nod. “Yep. DEA.”

“They teach you about this kind of thing?” Will asks, his drawl deep and languid. You turn to look at him, the imposing man by your side, and feel your shoulders tighten all over again when you see that the stern expression he had worn when first shaking your hand has returned. But then something lightens, the corner of his mouth ticking up just a bit, his gaze softening as your eyes meet. You’re certain that he can sense the rise in tension, understands with just a glimpse of your face that you’re way out of your element here. Intimidated. Nervous. And while the softening of his countenance doesn’t wipe away your anxiety completely, you do at least appreciate the attempt.

Ben, the tall, younger man flanking your other side, must notice the unease building up inside you too. He leans in and bops you with his shoulder, a light, buoyant laugh bursting out of him. “Aw, hell,” he emits breathily. “Leave her alone. If Pope trusts her, she’s got to be good.”

“Not saying she’s not good,” Will intones, shooting you a quick wink that, oddly, really does manage to set you at ease. “Just wondering how much experience she has with ops like this.” His eyes start to sparkle as they lock onto yours once again. “So, sweetheart, you ever pull a recon mission deep in the jungle?”

You offer an evasive shrug and release a tightly held breath. “I got lost in a corn maze once. Had to find my way out on my own. Probably would’ve starved in there if I hadn’t had the presence of mind to bring a funnel cake in with me.”

On your left, Ben snorts out another laugh, and across the table you see Frankie try to maintain that straight, impassive face. But Will’s deadpan expression doesn’t shift in the least. “Well,” he says with a sigh, bringing his nearly empty beer bottle up to his lips. “I guess that is pretty damn close.”

“Ha, ha,” Tom mocks. He waits to go on until you look his way, and once you do he levels you with what can only be described as a fatherly stare – oddly disappointed and imploring, stern and warm all at the same time. “We’re all very glad to hear that you have a sense of humor.”

“Very glad,” Ben interjects with a wide grin.

“But,” he continues, “You’re not gonna go in there and be part of this unless you can convince us that you’re capable.”

Santiago’s voice cuts in then, sounding over the clink of beer bottles as he lays out the next round on the table. “She’s capable,” he states simply before sliding back into his seat next to Frankie. “We’ve been on…” he glances over at you, “how many raids now?”

“At least a dozen,” you answer.

He gives a firm nod and lets his eyes drift between the men at the table. “She’s done good every time. Stays outta the way, does what she’s told.”

Your brow wrinkles and tugs tightly together, deep frown taking over your face. “Jesus, Garcia. I’m not a fucking dog.” He gives a quick laugh, but says nothing, prompting you to defend yourself. “I’ve worked with military advisors for years. Most of my career has been spent working alongside foreign armies and police forces. I’m not just some kind of desk jockey, I promise you that.”

“This is different.” The words flow across the table, the deep rumble sliding just beneath the reverberating bass coming from the jukebox in the corner. You look up and lock onto Frankie’s eyes, note immediately the hesitancy building behind them. He raises his brows as he looks at you, almost into you, and says simply, “This isn’t a raid. This isn’t some amateur hour bullshit put on by the local cops. And you won’t have the military or CNP or the US government at your back if something goes wrong.”

You nod, wanting – for some inexplicable reason – to pull your gaze from him, but finding that you just can’t. “I know. I get that.”

“Do you?”

Santiago gives his friend a little shove, just enough to cause him to look his way, breaking the odd hold he has over you. “She’s a good shot,” he tells him, tells all of them. “And she’s done enough undercover work for me to know that she sure as shit can keep her head.” He looks over at you again – “I still don’t know how you managed to get out of that shit in the comuna last year.” – and then gives a wry little laugh as his head shakes absently.

“Alright,” Tom mutters just as he slams down an empty bottle and reaches over to grab a new one. “She follows orders and keeps her cool… at least we can work with that.”

Benny nudges you with his elbow and when you look up at him you’re met with the widest, sunniest of smiles – never mind the deep split in his lip from the fight that he claims to have won just a few hours prior. “Hear that? That’s just about the best kind of approval you’ll ever get from Redfly.”

“Approval?” Tom shoots across the table. His voice drops an octave as he aims a serious stare over at you. “I’m still not convinced that we can actually trust you.”

“Jesus,” Santi breathes out with an annoyed air. “You really think I’d bring her here… hell, you think I’d have put all this together with her if I didn’t think – know – that she can be trusted?”

He shrugs. “You haven’t really known her that long,” he mutters thickly, his expression slipping back into something wary as he folds his arms across his broad chest and falls into a speculative silence as he mulls over his friend’s words.

You watch him closely, trying to discern what exactly he’s thinking. But long before you’re able to draw any sort of conclusion, Benny bumps you with his shoulder again and says simply, “Don’t worry about it, darlin’. He’s onboard.”

There’s a part of you that balks at the darlin’, just as you had almost called Will out on his use of sweetheart. But the truth is – both times – the names are uttered with a casual, even reassuring, cadence that you’re certain holds no demeaning intent. And you’ve been in enough male-dominated circles over the years to be able to discern at least that much. Even the way Ben’s looking at you now – genuine grin and kind eyes – seems to hold no innuendo. So you let it slide.

“How long did it take him to trust you?” you ask, the tension in your shoulders lifting when a throaty chuckle bubbles out of him.

“Oh, I don’t know that he does. I don’t know if Tom really trusts anyone.”

A snort of a laugh rings from the other end of the table, surprisingly coming from the Doubting Thomas himself. “You’re so full of shit,” he mumbles as he sits back upright and grabs his beer. He takes a giant swig and tacks on for good measure, “Besides, nothing wrong with being… cautious. My being – ”

“A distrustful prick,” Santiago interjects brazenly.

“Whatever you want to call it,” he counters with a faux-saccharine lilt. “It’s saved all your asses more than a time or two. Hasn’t it?”

There’s a quick round of almost wistful snickers from nearly all the men, each seeming to light onto a particular memory, their gazes faltering and ticking briefly off towards nothing. The exception is Frankie, who simply stares down at the battered beer bottle in front of him, sticker half peeled off and clinging to his fingernails as he continues to work at it with a frown. “What about this informant of yours,” he says, low voice slicing into the newfound silence. He shifts nervous eyes over to the man at his right. “You’re sure she can be trusted?”

Without hesitation, Santiago nods. “I’m sure of it. And besides, we’re not basing all of this just on her word. You read the file, right?” He glances over at you and ticks his chin in your direction. “We checked it out. We’ve been out there enough to get a lay of the land. We’ve seen the deliveries of cash coming in… and not going back out.”

Will speaks next, his words soft and slow. “Could all be a setup… a giant, well-planned setup.”

You shake your head. “No. No, it’s legit.” Five sets of eyes turn to you, drilling into you for something more substantial. But the truth is, all that you have is in that file. And, yeah, it could be an elaborate setup. Or – more likely than that – just a really, really bad idea. But your gut says it’s neither. Your gut says that this whole damn thing is the only way to put an end to Lorea’s ever-growing cartel.

Tom’s eyes narrow at you once again, suspicion still lingering in his glare. “How’d this all happen, huh? How’d you even get involved with this… this shit-brain scheme?” he asks before the serious countenance begins to crack and he blows out a harsh chuckle. “How’d Pope sucker you into all this?”

Santiago answers before you get a chance to even open your mouth. “I didn’t sucker anybody into anything. And I don’t use the same callsign down there, so…”

Your eyes flash over to meet his, face splitting into an insolent grin. “Pope…” you mutter, popping the p at the end. “How exactly did you get that name, anyway?”

He rolls his eyes. “You don’t need to know.”

“He spent his first firefight hailing Mary through the coms,” Will chimes in with a teasing lilt. “All damn night.”

“I was nineteen.” He defends… almost whines. “You wanna tell her how you got Ironhead?”

He shrugs and takes another pull of his beer. “I’m not embarrassed.”

Frankie smirks from the other side of the table as he issues out under his breath, “You should be.”

Your eyes bounce eagerly back and forth between the men, silently pleading for someone to tell you the story of Will’s ridiculous moniker. But it seems that you’ve once again gone invisible.

“Hey, he held that record for a solid decade,” Benny mutters beside you. “And I’m pretty sure that dipshit, MacCovey, cheated to take the title.”

“How can you cheat at that?” Frankie asks with an incredulous laugh.

“He cheated.”

“Cheated at what?” you blurt out, eager to just hear the tale. “Ironhead’s a title? With a record? For what?”

Will pivots in his seat, flashing you a smug grin as he rather haughtily announces, “Record for the most concussions sustained during basic training. And no one can take Ironhead away from me… especially not some hardheaded kid from freaking New York.”

“How do you know he was from New York?” Santi asks.

Frankie cocks his head at his friend too. “You met him?”

“Didn’t he die?” Tom interjects, confusion suddenly weaving through the lot of them.

“Did he?” Will asks. “Shit, guess he wasn’t that hardheaded after all.”

Benny leans forward to address them all. “He didn’t die. Just lost a leg. Roadside bomb.”

“Shit,” his brother repeats solemnly.

“Was supposed to be his last tour too. Well, guess it still was.” He looks down for a somber beat before lighting on Frankie. “And I heard that he never actually hit his head when he fell off that tower, so… cheated.”

Throughout all of the back and forth, you just sit, eyes wide, expression both amused and deeply concerned. “Jesus,” you finally breathe out once everyone falls quite. You turn to Will, look a little closer at him as though you might be able to discern some of the damage done so many years ago. “Are you… okay?”

He lets out a hearty laugh and raps his knuckles on his skull. “Nothing to worry about here,” he tells you with a wide smile. “Ironhead, remember?”

Tom snorts and shakes his head skeptically. “Tune’ll change when that CTE shit kicks in… start wandering around the neighborhood, talking to yourself, picking fights with people in grocery stores.” He stops short and flashes a shit-eating grin. “Oh wait…”

The joke – if there even really is one – is lost on you. But Will must get it, because his face flashes in irritation, a mere, “Very funny,” falling from his lips as he brings his beer bottle up to meet them.

You let out a sigh – “I’m confused.” – and choose to ignore Tom in favor of getting more of the story from Ironhead himself. “Did you get concussions on purpose? Why does this seem to be some kind of source of pride?”

“It wasn’t on purpose…”

“What about that full can of soup you tried to crush on your head?” Frankie interjects with a raised brow.

“Yeah, alright, there was that one,” he concedes.

Your forehead furrows deeper. “If you were always getting hurt, why didn’t they call you something like, Falls-a-Lot or Unlucky Charms or just Blockhead?”

He stares at you for a long moment, face hardening into a stoic set. “Wasn’t Tom asking how you got yourself into all this? Wasn’t that what we were talking about?”

You offer a nonchalant shrug. “Don’t think we were really talking about it…”

“She basically started it,” Santiago states simply. “I mean, I was in the minute she brought it up, completely in. But it was her shit-brained scheme from the get-go.”

“Really?” Tom smarts, skeptical look once again riding his face as he takes a pull from his beer.

“Look,” you begin, tone painfully sincere, “I’ve been on the losing end of this battle for years. And the people down there, the families… the kids he recruits…” You stop for a beat and slowly, bitterly shake your head. “Lorea, and all the others like him… It’s their turn to lose.”

Tom nods, his gaze never breaking from yours. “You do realize you sound just like him,” he mutters, ticking his chin towards Santi. “Seriously,” he begins, stare serious, but tone glib. “Did you two hatch this crazy little plan together in bed?”

You glance over at Garcia, quickly taking note of the burning blush creeping up his neck as he hides beneath his baseball cap and tries not to laugh. Then, on their way back to Tom, your eyes light on Frankie. He too is ducking his head. But he doesn’t seem to be laughing like the others. Rather, from what you can make out beneath the shadow of his hat, he looks… embarrassed. No. Dejected.

Your heart skips a beat and you blurt out suddenly, “We’re not sleeping together,” a little too loudly to come across as anything other than agonizingly defensive. The laughter intensifies and you clear your throat before going on to say, “Garcia’s usually too busy fucking his informants to ever even think of giving me the time of day.”

Benny just about loses it, his body pulsating with fits of giggles as he leans back a bit and reaches out to give you a high five. You oblige, a small, crooked smile tugging at the corner of your mouth as you see Santiago shift across from you. He peers at you from beneath the ballcap, eyes dark and smile wide as he says, voice deep and honeyed, “Oh, bonita, trust me, I’ve thought about it.”

You roll your eyes and tip back the nearly empty bottle to your lips, draining the last dregs of your beer before rising and stating, “I’ll get the next round… as long you guys promise to do nothing but regale me with embarrassing stories about Pope for the rest of the night.”

000

Jetlag. It’s something you’ve experienced countless times over the years, hopping from place to place, office to outpost to field. And yet you’ve never really managed to get used to it, the bone-deep fatigue kicking your ass after each and every trip you’ve ever taken. A full day of travel, and now a full night of drinking, and by the time the lot of you stumble out of the bar, you’re barely able to put one foot in front of the other.

“Lightweight, huh?” Benny jokes as he pushes past you on the way to his car.

You grumble under your breath, something akin to, shut the fuck up, though your words aren’t all that put together right now either. But Ben doesn’t hear any of it anyway, he’s already giving his brother an unforgiving shove in the nearly empty parking lot and laughing maniacally as he dodges the lazy retaliatory punch.

“Don’t mind him,” Frankie mutters from behind you. You stop and turn, squinting through the harsh halogen light piercing your eyes as you look up at him. He notices the pained grimace you give and lets out a light chuckle as he takes your elbow and swings you back around to lead you to the car. “You seem more tired than drunk to me,” he says with a lilt as he easily slips his arm beneath yours for a little extra support.

Without thinking, you let your head tip to the side and rest on his shoulder. “Soooo tired,” you bemoan. A deep rumble of a laugh pulls from Frankie’s chest, reverberates up and through his entire body so that you feel it vibrate into you. It makes you smile. It makes you tuck yourself in a little closer. You stumble a bit, your toe catching on a crack in the pavement, and before you can even think to right yourself, his arm pulls away and reaches around, the warmth of his hand splaying across your hip as he steadies you. “Maybe a little drunk too,” you admit with a sigh.

If he thinks it’s odd that you’ve burrowed so close to him, or if he’s the least bit uncomfortable with your fingers now clinging to the back of his shirt, or if he’s irritated at having to slow to a crawl to help you to Santiago’s car, he doesn’t show it. Instead he easily slows his pace to match yours, giving your hip a little squeeze as he says, “Hey, sorry about earlier.”

Your shuffling stops as you pull back to look up at him with a confused frown. “You mean telling that story about Santiago’s ex? I don’t think I’m the one… to apologize…” Your brow furrows even deeper as you try to sift through what you just said, trying to determine if it makes any sense.

He lets out another low laugh, the sound quickly becoming a new favorite tune. “No. I mean about…” He hesitates for a moment, the smile slowly melting from his face. “When I was… questioning you. Whether or not you’re up for this. And, you know, whether or not you’re getting played.”

“Oh,” you bark out, far louder than intended. “Yeah, no.” You wave it off and waste no time at all – fatigue and alcohol both wiping away any embarrassment you might otherwise feel at plastering yourself up against a near stranger – falling back into him.

He chuckles again as he hikes you a bit higher and leads you over to the tiny blue rental car in the corner of the lot. “It’s just… I know you put a lot of work into gathering the intel. And I know this is… important to you. Or you wouldn’t be here. But still…”

You turn your face into his shoulder, his chest, unabashedly breathing in the musky scent from the collar of his jacket as you mumble into him, “I promise not to fuck it up. At least not too bad.”

“Hey!” Garcia calls out from the car, swinging the back door open as you two approach. “You getting handsy with my girl?”

Frankie snorts out a laugh, incredulous, almost sardonic, and not nearly as endearing as the ones that have been rumbling into you for the last however many glorious minutes it’s been. “Not your girl,” you mutter blandly. “Too risky… too many possible diseases.”

“Hilarious,” he deadpans, standing back as Frankie helps you into the car, his palm pressing gently on the back of your head to make sure you duck inside safely. “She took like five Xanax on the flight in,” he tells his friend with a snicker. “Probably shouldn’t have let her drink so much on top of that.”

“Hate flying,” you breathe out as you settle back, harshly tugging at the seatbelt to your left.

Frankie shakes his head in amusement as he watches you grow increasingly frustrated with the non-cooperative seatbelt. “How can you hate flying?” he asks, crooked smile stretching across his face.

You stop the infernal struggle and collapse back into the seat, “Fucking hate it,” coming out of you in a petulant whine.

“Alright,” he murmurs amid a snicker as he leans into the car, easily tugging the seatbelt out and reaching around to buckle you in. Your eyes droop further, slipping closed as he pulls back out of the car, fading into the night. “You guys good?” you hear him ask, the deep tenor of his voice sounding even more melodic when penetrating the dark.

“Yeah,” Santiago tells him, fatigue drowning just that single word. “We’re over at the Motor Inn. Just a few miles up. Listen, Frankie… thanks for this. Really. This…” You almost open your eyes again, want to just to see if the expression on Garcia’s face matches the earnestness in his tone. “This isn’t just a standard op, you know. To me. To her. This is… just… thanks.”

“Yeah,” he replies simply. “Well, uh… I’ll see you Thursday.”

The only other sounds you hear before slipping away entirely are the door gently closing beside you, the engine starting up in a soft roar, and Santiago muttering, seemingly to himself from the front seat, “I am not carrying your ass to bed.”

Taglist:

@tweedlydumbtweedlydoo @icanbeyourjedi @greeneyedblondie44

#frankie morales #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales x reader #francisco catfish morales #frankie morales x you #triple frontier #santiago pope garcia #will ironhead miller #benny miller

74 notes · View notes