#sir do i need a credit card to ride that train..............

[badnewswhatsleft]

thinking about this again only because why is patrick built like a compact little freight train

[wordsnwhiskey]

As It Should Be | Chapter 5: Breaking In The Newbies

Pairing: Agent Whiskey x F!Reader x Frankie Morales

Summary: After a rough and emotional night, Frankie makes a decision on Jack’s offer. Before they can get to that though, the morning debrief with Champ brings back a familiar face and Jack has you and Frankie teach the junior agents a lesson during combat training.

Rating: M

Warnings: Canon typical violence, guns, swearing, discussions about safewords.

A/N: Alright, a lot of stuff needed to happen here and we’re going to have a little action and see Frankie show off a bit. It was important to me that the discussion of safe words and Jack checking again for consent happened in a chapter separate from the actual smut. For me, it further emphasizes that Jack doesn’t want Frankie to feel pressured to accept or do anything he doesn’t want to because it’s “in the moment”. Consent is sexy, friends.

I have to give my love and thanks to mi esposa @danniburgh and my friend Agent Capri Sun for the beta reads, the fantastic constructive criticism and encouragement!

Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Chapter 4: Company | AO3 | Art

The morning sun stirred Frankie. Even with his eyes still closed, he could tell the room was alight, but the warmth that surrounded him had nothing to do with the sun and everything to do with the body next to him. He opened his eyes and realized he was definitely not in Whiskey’s guest bedroom. Instead, he was very much curled into Whiskey’s lightly rising chest. Frankie blushed, very unused to being the little spoon, and moreover, not used to someone’s morning wood poking at him. Whiskey was gently roused from sleep by Frankie’s small movements. He lifted his arm from around Frankie’s waist and stretched.

“G’morning Flyboy. You were having nightmares, so I brought you in here.

“Oh, sorry for waking you up and… thank you.” Frankie felt guilt sting at his throat.

Whiskey grunted and rolled out of bed to go shower.

“Nothing to worry about, partner. I’m no stranger to those kinds of nightmares.”

Frankie was grateful Whiskey understood and made no effort to pry. With a grunt of his own, Frankie got up from the bed and made his way to the kitchen, intent on trying to get coffee going while Whiskey showered.

Whiskey finished his shower and stepped out to dry off, then wrapped his towel around his waist. He was drawn to the kitchen by the smell of coffee, Frankie’s initiative quirking the corners of his mouth into a small smile. He leaned against the kitchen counter and watched as Frankie poured their coffee, handing Whiskey’s to him black. Jack hummed his approval, a sound which he noted made Frankie preen a bit.

“Good boy.” Jack gestured to the coffee with a small wink as the air seemed to be pushed from Frankie’s lungs. “Now, as much as I enjoy the view of you in just my shorts, let's get you into something you can wear at the office.”

Frankie was rooted to the spot, Jack’s “good boy” ringing in his ears and sending a wave of warmth throughout his entire body. Jack didn’t comment, just let his smirk speak for itself as he took his coffee back to his room and opened the doors to his closet. His fingers tabbed at a few of the hanging suits as he looked back to see that Frankie had finally uprooted himself and joined him.

“We’re similar in build, so you ought to be able to pull off one of my suits…”

Frankie winced.

“Right, well then, let’s go with something a touch more casual.

Jack grabbed a pair of jeans, a blue button down, white t-shirt, belt, and socks, handing each article of clothing over to Frankie as he moved around his closet.

“There, that should do you. Comfortable, but still presentable for Statesman.”

Jack gave him a smile only to notice Frankie shifting his weight.

“Thanks,” came Frankie’s reply as he turned to get dressed. He didn’t mind going without boxers, but the sudden realization that he needed more clothes of his own hit Frankie as he dressed in the clothes Jack had given him.

“Hey Jack?”

Whiskey hummed in acknowledgement as he finished getting dressed himself: jeans, suspenders, white button down shirt, and a navy wool blazer.

“I was thinking about your offer last night, and… I’d like that.”

Whiskey turned to look at Frankie, giving him a once over, distantly thinking about how good Frankie looked in his clothes, and a mischievous smile lit up Whiskey’s face.

“I’m looking forward to it, Flyboy. We’ll discuss things a bit more at the end of the day in my office. It’s about as close to neutral territory as we’re gonna get for that conversation. For today though, I want you to be a good boy and stick to me like a shadow. We’re meeting with Champ first thing. Then, we’re gonna have some fun.”

Frankie nodded, rocking back on his heels for a moment, then fell in step with Whiskey as they headed out, both of them grabbing their respective hats as they went. The ride in Whiskey’s Bronco was quiet, and soon enough they were riding the elevator up to their floor in the Statesman tower.

You were seated at the conference table facing the double doors with Pope to your right.

“You sleep alright, Pope? Hope Ginger didn’t keep you too late.”

“She’s something, that’s for sure, Hawk, but she did let me go, eventually.”

He gave you a good natured laugh that slowly lost its shine.

“You hear from Fish, Hawk? Ginger told me where she put him up and I went to check on him last night, but he never answered.”

Worry bloomed in your chest, not that it had really gone away after seeing Frankie leave yesterday. You figured if he wanted or needed to talk, he would have reached out to you. Honestly, you had hoped he would have checked in with Pope at some point since he probably felt more comfortable with him. Just then, the conference double doors opened, giving way as Jack strode in, greeting you with a smile and tilt of his head. Relief eased the tension in your chest and shoulders when Frankie followed closely behind Jack. Your eyes darted over to Whiskey, fixing him with a questioning gaze as you realized the clothes Frankie was wearing belonged to Jack.

“Fish!” Pope practically jumped out of his chair, rushing over to Frankie with a duffle bag in tow. “I was worried about you, hermano. I went to the hotel, but you didn’t answer.”

To Frankie’s credit, his face didn’t betray much, but both you and Pope knew that Frankie didn’t have any other clothes aside from what he had left with.

“Uh, yeah, must’ve just missed you.”

You could tell Pope was filing the information away for later. Your eyes wandered to Jack’s again and you raised an eyebrow. At least you now had an idea why he had cancelled on you last night.

“Here, Fish. I figured you’d want your go bag.”

“Gracias, hermano.”

They clasped arms, then took their seats. Frankie grabbed the orange tinted glasses he had left the day before and put them on, adjusting them on the bridge of his nose. His gaze fell to yours and he gave you a small smile, but before you could say anything, Champ’s holo image flickered to life.

“Catfish! You’re looking mighty fine! Much better than yesterday.”

“Yes sir, thanks.”

Champ nodded. He’d been worried about how the man would fare, especially considering the news yesterday.

“Right, down to the business at hand. It does appear that a new cartel is making their play at center stage, picking up where Poppy left off. They’re not following Poppy’s business model, though. From what we understand, the group is headed by four individuals: Isabella Gómez, Duke Hernández, Steven Weisel and Emily Weisel. They’ve taken to calling themselves La Linda Rosa, likely after the Red Agent flowers. Up until now, they’ve been your run of the mill cartel, but it’s our belief that the Weisels have been instrumental in their production and processing of Agent Red. Recently, the Weisels purchased land in Colombia, and from our drone coverage, they may have set up processing plants there. We don’t know why the sudden shift to Agent Red, though. The plants themselves go for $500k per plant, and they take time to mature. We don’t think the Weisels are responsible for acquiring the plants, so that leaves either Isabella or Duke.”

Frankie’s attention drifted from Champ to the pictures on the screen and swore.

“Fuck. Pope, you know who that is, right? I thought they were in Australia?”

Pope did a double take, recognizing his old informant’s brother. The Statesman stared at the two men, waiting for them to elaborate. Frankie sighed and settled into his seat a bit more, knee bouncing anxiously.

“Four years ago, Pope came to me and the rest of our old team to take out Gabriel Martín Lorea and make out with the money he had stockpiled. Pope’s CI, Yovanna, and her brother, Duke, both worked for Lorea. In exchange for helping us, Pope got the brother out of jail and we dropped them off in Peru with papers to Australia and $3M. Looks like Duke wasn’t satisfied with life in Australia.”

Ginger frowned and pulled up Duke’s known associates, Yovanna’s picture following the others on screen.

“Yovanna appears to still be living in Australia, but it’s possible Duke grabbed the money and ran.”

Frankie closed his eyes, lifting his cap and carding his fingers through his hair before placing the hat back on his head and sighing.

“What’s the plan? Sounds like the plants and processing facilities need to be taken out, and then there’s the compound, too.”

Pope nodded, then sighed as well. This was bringing back memories for the both of them.

“We’ll also need to be wary of the local agencies. They’ll be on the lookout for anyone suspicious, especially if it’s anything like how it was with Lorea.”

Champ nodded and tilted his head to Ginger.

“We’re doing our own recon and then we’ll break out teams. Pope, Catfish, we’d like you to at least help with intel, and given your experience in taking down Lorea, if you’re up for it, I’d like you both on the compound assault team.”

You saw Pope and Frankie share a look, Frankie’s jaw clenched and then he nodded.

“Yes, sir.”

“Great, not to worry boys, Statesman has the best resources, stateside or otherwise. For now, I’m sure we can keep you plenty busy. Whiskey, don’t forget, today is your day for combat training with the new recruits. Bourbon, Cranberry needs you to test equipment in the lab later today.”

“Pope, could you actually stick around again for a bit? I’ve got some more intel I want to run through with you.” Ginger chimed in, and you were surprised he didn’t grimace at the idea of being locked in a room for hours again.

With that, the meeting was over, Champ’s holo image disappeared and they took their glasses off. Jack stood up and Frankie was quick to follow him, much to your intrigue. You stood up as well. You were eager to watch Jack have his way with the new agents. It was always fun. Whiskey seemed to know you would be following and beckoned for you to enter his office first, followed by Frankie, and Jack closed the door behind him.

“Go ahead and set your bag down wherever you’d like, Flyboy.”

Frankie dropped his bag in a corner then promptly started to rifle through it, pulling his shoes out and quickly swapping his dress shoes for them. He let out a sigh of relief as he rolled up on the balls of his feet and rocked back on his heels. He hated dress shoes.

You took a short minute to admire Frankie in the blue button down while he rolled up his sleeves. Jack’s fingers wrapped around your wrist and he tugged you into him.

“Missed you, darlin’.”

Smiling, you took his face in your hands and tugged him down for a kiss.

“Missed you too, Jack.”

You murmured against his lips, and you resolved not to ask about last night. Whatever happened, Frankie must have reached out to Jack, not you or Santi, and you’d leave it at that. Jack hummed contentedly for a moment before he pulled back and winked at you.

“Are you coming to watch us break in the newbies, darlin’? I was thinking you and Flyboy could do the first demo.”

You narrowed your eyes suspiciously, but there was a playfulness in them as well.

“Us?” You questioned Jack with a raised eyebrow.

“First demo?” Came Frankie’s question as he whirled around to face you and Whiskey.

Jack’s smile broadened and he started out of his office and towards the elevator, expecting you and Frankie to follow.

“What are we demoing, Whiskey?”Frankie asked, more pointedly this time.

“Well, our newbies are scheduled to learn about disarms and what happens when the enemy goes for their gun. I thought it’d be good to have them start out seeing Bourbon disarm you.”

Frankie huffed as he crossed his arms and leaned against the elevator wall. You smiled as you leaned against the wall opposite Frankie.

“It’ll be just like old times, Fish.”

He groaned and shook his head.

“Why have me do the demo though? I’m not a Statesman agent.”

Before you could respond to reassure Frankie, Jack chimed in, eyeing him with nothing short of gleeful mischief. Jack enjoyed breaking the new agents in almost a little too much sometimes, but it was good for them, and he was good at it.

“No, you’re not, you’re ex-Delta Force, Frankie. These agents have had plenty of training, but they don’t have your experience, Flyboy. They’re gonna learn the difference today.”

Jack shared a similar philosophy with you when it came to combat training and sparring. You had been a terror in hand-to-hand, still were, you were proud to say. You knew there was often a size disadvantage, but you had learned to use your opponent’s momentum against them, and more importantly, you didn’t follow convention. In sparring matches, most people fought like they were sparring, which was fine for beginning, but there was a big difference between practicing and being in an actual fight. You never advocated for an all out brawl, but you refused to follow the typical learned pattern that people naturally gravitated towards. Tom had been predictable and a sore loser. Will was predictable but sweet. Benny, well, there was a reason he was semi-pro, which left Santi and Frankie. Santiago was fun, and you had lost your fair share of matches to both him and Benny. Frankie had a spark in his eyes when he sparred, but no matter how hard you had tried to get him to let go, he refused. It had nothing to do with anything silly like you being a woman, more to do with the fact that Frankie never seemed to just let himself go in that way. You had only seen him let go a bit twice, both times in the field and well worn down by the day.

The elevator dinging startled you out of your reverie, and you followed right behind Jack towards the training room. Frankie assumed they would be entering a gym of sorts, but he was sorely mistaken, and he realized the ‘floor’ they were on must have been composed of several. The ‘room’ was really more of a training complex housed in the unassuming tower. To the right, a group of 20 people stood, waiting. He gave them a cursory glance, and then his eyes were pulled to the range. He’d definitely have to visit to let off some stress. He followed as you and Whiskey led the way to the group of agents and hung back slightly as the group stood to attention.

“Well, look at this promising group of newbies, Bourbon. D’you think they’re up for today’s lesson?”

You let the smirk on your lips turn into a full crooked smile, you had more than a small idea as to what Jack was going to do. Looking over your shoulder, you caught Frankie’s eye and nodded for him to join you.

“I don’t know, Whiskey, simple concept, but we’ll see what their execution is like. My money is on our guy.”

The agents before you bristled, full of young pride that was well-earned. Whiskey’s hand clasped over Frankie’s shoulder as he introduced him to the new agents.

“Y’all are in for a treat. Our friend, Catfish, here, has generously volunteered to help train you on close quarters combat and disarms. Bourbon will demo the defense first. Catfish,” Whiskey took a pistol from the long table off to the side and handed it to Frankie. “Your objective is simple: shoot a blank at Bourbon.”

Frankie’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, and his eyes sought yours to make sure you were comfortable. An answering smile was good enough for him, and he checked the pistol, confirming there were no live rounds, before looking back up at you. The two of you easily slid into a ready position, and Jack gestured for the new agents to give you some room.

“Halcón, when you go for the takedown, ten cuidado con mi espalda. Ya no soy joven.” [be careful with my back. I’m not young anymore.]

It only mildly annoyed you that he already knew you were going to go for the takedown, after priding yourself on your spontaneity earlier, but you pushed that out of your mind as you both stood a few steps apart. There would be a split second when Frankie pulled his pistol and took a readying step. That would be where you would have an opening and make your move. A tense handful of seconds that seemed to stretch on filled the air. Jack watched the new agents, the tension between you and Frankie seemed to embed itself in the junior agents’ lungs as they all waited with bated breath.

Nothing telegraphed Frankie’s quick movements as he drew his pistol, but on instinct, your body was moving. He saw your left hand fly out to redirect his momentum and push his gun hand away, quickly shifting to plant his weight, keeping you from landing the takedown this early. The training you and Frankie had received taught you to be efficient and end things quickly. That was easier said when you had spent years training together. The junior agents seemed to still be holding their breath while you traded blows. Your moment of opportunity came, and you took it. Frankie seemed to understand what was happening but his balance was off. You stepped into him, your hip bumping his as your hand came to grip over the top of his pistol. The next thing everyone knew, you were both on the ground, the gun skittering harmlessly away, and Frankie’s arm in an arm bar. He grunted and quickly tapped at your leg to surrender, and you let him go. The class was quiet until Whiskey broke the silence as you helped Frankie to his feet.

“I hope you lot were paying attention to Catfish here, he did a great job demonstrating what to do when facing a difficult opponent like Bourbon. For this exercise, the rest of you will attempt to take a shot at Catfish and he will disarm you by whatever means he deems necessary.”

You can’t help but let out a small laugh, knowing Whiskey was being intentional with his wording.The laugh died quickly, however, at the words of one of the junior agents.

“How was that a good example? He lost, he was disarmed. We should be practicing against someone better, who would last longer.”

At your side, you saw Frankie stand up straighter, his feet moving shoulder width apart as his hands clasped behind his back and he fixed the younger agent with a steely gaze. Even as his breathing remained calm, it was obvious the words had gotten to him. Whiskey’s good natured grin turned into a smug smirk.

“Davis,” Whiskey began, calling the man out by his last name and emphasizing he hadn’t earned a Statesman moniker. “Since you’re so eager, by all means, approach Catfish when you’re ready and show us how your Statesman training fares.”

Frankie kept his gaze leveled at the cocky junior agent, noticing in his periphery that you had moved away to give them plenty of room. Davis moved to be a few steps in front of him. Frankie continued to hold the stare as he questioned Whiskey.

“Are you sure about this, Whiskey?”

Whiskey nodded, Frankie’s gaze flickering over to him for the briefest of seconds, then he brought his hands to a loose ready position at his sides. Davis drew his pistol, but Frankie grabbed the barrel with his left hand, stepped forward and hooked his right foot behind Davis’ lead leg and pushed on the agent’s chest with his right hand. Davis went down, but found himself suspended by Frankie’s hold on his shirt. The class was filled with littered gasps and snickers. The ‘fight’ was over before it had really begun. Frankie helped right the agent and stepped aside to let him retrieve his firearm.

“Attaboy, Catfish! Davis, looks like you’ve got some work to do. Here’s another lesson, agents: Statesman agents aren’t your only competition out there. We’ve got some fancy gear and trainin’ here, but there’s a world of intelligence agents and mercs out there. Catfish served with Bourbon, and that should tell you all you need to know.” He paused a moment to let the information sink in as Davis returned to the line to lick his wounds. Then Whiskey called the next agent.

Frankie breathed in, then out through his nose, and got ready. As they went, the junior agents in waiting began to pick up on a few of his techniques, and he had to adjust, but time spent practicing and training at Benny’s gym had prepared him well for this.

You watched as Jack’s eyes danced while he followed Frankie’s movements. The circumstances earlier had prevented him from truly appreciating how efficient and capable the quiet man was. The last of the junior agents had made their attempt and consequently failed. Frankie’s breath was coming more unevenly now, and rightly so. What he had gone through would be exhausting for anyone.

“Well done, everyone, a round of applause to Catfish for taking the time to demonstrate y’all have a lot to learn before getting approved for field work. Now go on and line up at the range and get warmed up. We’ll be running sims next.”

The junior agents dispersed to the range towards the back of the room. Frankie let out a breath and rolled his shoulders to let out some of the tension he had been carrying, then started heading for the range, eager to let off some more steam.

“Where do you think you’re going, partner?”

Frankie frowned, his eyes darting between you and Whiskey in confusion.

“I thought we were going to go shoot?”

Jack smiled then winked at Frankie.

“They’re warming up, you still have one more person to disarm, Flyboy.”

Frankie’s fingers twitched, and you could see that the exercise earlier had worn at his usual restraint.

“No lasso.”

Whiskey handed you his lasso, then unloaded his revolvers and passed you the ammo. He holstered his revolvers again and stepped into position in front of Frankie. You watched as a new kind of energy seemed to crackle between them, and some of the junior agents seemed to sense it, stopping to watch as well.

Whiskey was fast, but training at the boxing gym had helped Frankie with his speed. As Whiskey drew his revolver, Frankie sprung forward. He didn’t bother to grab the gun. Instead, he brought his fist down on the barrel, sending it skittering away. Whiskey’s fist connected with Frankie’s side, and you heard, rather than saw, Frankie’s reservations fall away with a snarl. He took hold of the inside of Jack’s blazer, grabbing the grip of the other revolver holstered there and made to pull it out and take the ‘shot’. Jack’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. He hadn’t expected Frankie to go on the offensive, but he found he was impressed. He liked a challenge. Before Frankie could draw the revolver from the holster, Jack grabbed his wrists and wrenched them down, then back up quickly to break Frankie’s hold, and then Jack threw them both to the ground. Both men recovered quickly, but in the chaos, the revolver had fallen to the ground and Frankie scrambled for it. Just as his fingertips touched cold metal, Whiskey’s whip flicked the revolver further away, and they closed the distance to grapple with each other again.

Your match with Frankie had been a well practiced dance, and this was too, in its own right. However, where yours had been fluid, Whiskey and Frankie were bordering on feral. For a moment, it appeared that Frankie had gotten the upper hand. Whiskey staggered backwards, about to fall, but as he went, he flicked his whip, the corded length wrapping around Frankie’s throat. He tugged, sending them both to the ground. Frankie grunted and struggled against the snare he was in. Whiskey wasted no time in scrambling up and pinning Frankie, his knee to the pilot’s back. Frankie continued to struggle until Whiskey leaned down so that only the other man could hear.

“Easy now, Tiger, save your strength for tonight. You did good.”

Frankie relaxed under Jack’s weight and nodded. Whiskey got off of him with a grunt and unwound the corded length of the whip from Frankie’s neck, then pressed a button on the handle to recall it. He helped Frankie up and dusted him off a bit.

A few of the junior agents were still watching in awe. It was rare to see a senior agent like you or Whiskey truly need to put some effort in, and to see it twice in one day was something else entirely. You walked over to the two men and put your hand on Frankie’s shoulder.

“You did great, Fish, nice to see you let loose for once.”

He scoffed good naturedly and swooped to pick his hat up from off the ground.

“You guys had quite the audience while you were at it, too.” Your smile was barely contained as you raised an eyebrow at Jack.

This time it was Whiskey’s turn to scoff.

“Well, I hope they’ve been practicing. They’ll be running the sim after Frankie does.”

Whiskey patted Frankie on his shoulder then gestured for him to follow. He led him to an enclosed area that occupied the majority of the left side of the training complex. A small structure that looked like a house sat inside the enclosure, and you knew it was furnished to match whatever simulation scenario had been determined. Whiskey stopped at a table just outside of the enclosure and gestured to the rifle, combat knife, folder, and headset.

“Alright, Flyboy, I know you’ve done this sort of exercise before. Your brief is on the table there. Good luck.”

You and Whiskey walked a bit further along the enclosure to two screens. One cycled through a variety of camera angles while the other would connect to the headset once Frankie turned it on.

“You’re really having Frankie run the simulation?”

Whiskey nodded, “I didn’t have him help with the demo just to teach those newbies a lesson, darlin’. He’s been through hell, and I figured getting him to work through some of that in sparring and the sim would help. That, and, well… you can’t blame me for bein’ curious, Bourbon. Last time I got to see what he could do, we were a bit busy trying not to get shot.”

You can’t help but to chuckle and shake your head, your attention going back to Frankie as he geared up.

��Frankie turns into a different person on missions sometimes, used to scare the hell out of people on base who saw it. No one ever suspected it because he was always the quiet one, but he’s just as competitive as the rest of the guys on the team. He was just always scary good at keeping a level head and focusing on the mission. You’ll see.”

Frankie put on the kit provided for him then flipped through the brief before lowering the headset and advancing. The brief had been fairly simple: infiltrate the compound, rescue the target, and escort the target to the exfil location. They even provided a decent description of the target. The virtual course populated guards patrolling the 3 entrances. He opted for the path of least resistance with only 2 guards posted.

From the screen, you and Jack could see Frankie take a deep breath, his shoulders relaxing even as he crept towards the two guards. You knew it was because he was willing himself to let go, to let his instincts and muscle memory take over. He was lightning fast as his knife came out and he landed brutal and precise fatal blows to the targets on the screen. In a normal situation, he would hide the bodies but the miracle of technology meant he didn’t have to. It was beautiful in a devastating way to watch Frankie move with such confidence, stealth, and precision. He peered around a hallway, noting the sudden influx of guards and catching a glimpse of red at the end of the hall. The brief had indicated the target would be in red, and it made sense that there would be more guards to ensure the target didn’t run off. He counted five hostiles in the hallway.

Five guards, five bullets.

Once he had downed the hostiles, Frankie stepped through the hallway, catching a glimpse of the target and swore at how cliché the scenario was. The brief had just said the target had last been seen wearing red.

“¡Me están jodiendo! ¿En serio? ¿Una mujer en un vestido rojo?” [They’re fucking with me. Really? A woman in a red dress?]

You could both hear Frankie through the mic link in his headset, and you couldn’t help but laugh. It quickly died as you and Whiskey tensed. The woman in red was a decoy, one that statistically caught the majority of users by surprise.

“Ma’am, are you-” She moved just barely and he saw the glint of where a gun was holstered. Frankie didn’t finish his sentence. Instead, he fired a shot to her chest and grumbled to himself before moving on. Normally, it wouldn’t have taken him that long to figure it out.

Whiskey whistled, thoroughly impressed. It wasn’t long after that Frankie found the real target and reached the ‘exfil location’.

“Damn, sweetheart, you sure picked a good one.”

He winked at you, and you grinned back as Frankie pulled off the headset and his kit, then walked over to you.

“Alright, agents! Catfish successfully completed the sim in 15 minutes, that’s your time to beat!”

A chorus of groans echoed in the training room. Whiskey ignored them and clapped Frankie on his shoulder.

“You did good, Flyboy, really set the bar high. Most people get caught up by the decoy.”

Frankie’s chest puffed out a little at the praise, but he was soon shaking his head. Before he could deflect the compliment, Whiskey squeezed his shoulder.

“Feeling hungry, Flyboy? Figured the three of us could grab a quick lunch before Cran steals Bourbon here away from us.”

“Yeah, I’m starving. Didn’t expect you to keep me busy like that.”

Vermouth entered the training room, and you waved him down.

“Hey, Vermouth! Watch the junior agents for us. Whiskey’s just got them running the sim. We’re going to go grab lunch!”

Without waiting for Vermouth’s answer, you grabbed Whiskey and Frankie’s hands, dragging them out of the training room and to the elevator.

“There’s a deli not far from the office we can walk to, and it’s late enough that we should miss the rush.”

Walking arm in arm with both of your boys, you could think of very few things better than right now. You didn’t care that you were in the middle of downtown New York. All that mattered was Whiskey on your right, and Frankie on your left.

Frankie did his best to relax and not let his anxiety and internal struggles get the best of him. Whiskey’s words echoed in his mind: “When it comes to me and Bourbon, keep an open mind and try not to overthink it.” That was a lot easier said than done, but he was working on it.

You were right, the timing made it so that you had missed the lunch rush. You all ordered your food, Whiskey stepping in to pay with a look that silenced both you and Frankie, then you all went to sit down.

Whiskey practically sprawled in his chair, his legs encroaching your space under the table and Frankie’s space next to him. Frankie sat somewhat stiffly but the more he ate, the more he seemed to relax. You nudge his foot with yours playfully to grab his attention.

“How’s your back? Mr. Ya-no-soy-joven.”

The three of you laughed, and Frankie shook his head with a wide grin on his face.

“I’m not! Gotta leave that shit for the young guys who think they’re invincible.”

“Young guys like Davis?” You shot back, smug on Frankie’s behalf.

“Cocky kid had it coming.”

There was no anger in Frankie’s eyes, only the slightest lilt of mirth in his voice as his gaze met yours, then Whiskey’s. Whiskey leaned forward and barked a laugh while patting Frankie on the back.

“He sure did. The lot of them were in need of a reality check. That’s why Champ specifically likes to have me or Bourbon take at least one pass at our junior agents. After all those hours spent training, they tend to forget that there are much bigger fish out there.”

Conversation flowed easily between them for the rest of their lunch. It reminded Frankie of the prior morning, when they were enjoying breakfast and everything just felt right. It felt as if all of the pieces of the puzzle were coming together, and this time, this time, it didn’t feel fleeting.

Walking to the office was much more comfortable than the walk to the deli had been. You noticed that Frankie was far less stiff under your touch on his arm, even leaning into you occasionally. You parted ways in the elevator. You were heading to the lab to play guinea pig for Cranberry, and your boys were headed upstairs to Whiskey’s office. Frankie seemed hesitant to let you go, and you did your best not to spook him, your heart fluttering in your chest.

Given everything that had happened, things needed to be almost wholly in Frankie’s court, at least until he was more comfortable around you. You had certainly noticed, however, how easily Frankie and Whiskey seemed to allow each other into their respective spaces. The elevator doors closed behind you as you strode down the hall. You were glad that they were comfortable together, though. It had definitely been a concern of yours, considering their respective pasts, but you also thought that there was the potential for them to relate and understand each other better than most.

The rest of the day passed by slowly, and as directed, Frankie remained Jack’s shadow. Jack did his best to keep from laughing when 5pm rolled around and Frankie began to subconsciously bounce his knee. He was scrolling on his phone, lower lip pulled between his teeth and brow furrowed as he tried to focus on whatever was on the screen.

You knocked on Jack’s open office door, raising an eyebrow when you saw Frankie startle at the sound. He wasn’t usually this jumpy. Jack’s gaze met yours, and you could see the amusement and mischief that bubbled in his eyes.

“Hey there, darlin’, you getting ready to head out for the night?”

“Just about, wanted to come see my boys before I do.”

Frankie’s knee stopped bouncing at your words, his phone falling into his lap as he looked up at you. You motion for him to scoot over a bit as you sit down on the couch next to him and rest your chin on your hand.

“We’re still on for dinner tomorrow, right?”

You posed the question to the room in general, even though the three of you knew that it was really directed towards Frankie.

“Uh yeah, I’m-I’m looking forward to dinner tomorrow,” Frankie says after clearing his throat and gives you both a shy smile. Leaning over, you take his large hand in your own and give it a squeeze.

“Great!” Standing up from the couch, you smooth your clothes, give Frankie a kiss on his cheek, and then kiss Jack. “I’ll find us a place, and we’ll figure it out more tomorrow. Night, Frankie. Night, Jack.”

A minute later, you’re gone, and suddenly there’s nothing keeping Frankie’s mind off of the time, which is painfully close to 6pm, when Jack said he’d be done with work. The moment the clock turned that final, eternal minute, Frankie sat up straight, attentive, and alert as his eyes watched Whiskey.

Jack leaned back in his chair, stretching, then relocated next to Frankie on the couch.

“I don’t want you to feel obligated to do anything tonight, Flyboy. If you feel like you’re not up for it, we’ll just grab dinner and head home.”

Frankie shook his head and took a steadying breath.

“No, I want this. I-I could really use it, Jack.”

Whiskey nodded, eyes wandering over Frankie as he adjusted on the couch.

“Alright, I use the green, yellow, red system. You need me to stop for whatever reason, call red, and that’s it, no questions, no hard feelings or fuss. I’ll get you cleaned up and help you come down. Sound good?”

Frankie nodded, his tongue suddenly thick and his mouth dry in anticipation. Jack tutted.

“I need you to use your words, Flyboy.”

Frankie swallowed, his heart beating wildly in his chest.

“I understand, s-sounds good.”

“Good. Now…” Jack pulled a small pad of stationary paper and a pen from the side table. “I want you to write out what you’re ok with and any hard or soft limits you have.”

Frankie nodded, then took the pen and paper and began writing.

[click for better quality]

A blush took hold of Frankie as he handed it back.

“It’s what I can come up with off the top of my head, for tonight at least. I’ll let you know if anything else comes up though.”

Jack’s eyes were dark as he perused the list, looking up from the paper to Frankie, he stood up with a smile.

“C’mon Flyboy… we’re gonna have some fun tonight.”

Thank you for reading! Reblogs & comments are much appreciated!

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[cyraclove]

“I hit you with my car and was the only one to visit you in the hospital” with modern BotW Zelink would be amazing :') (you can choose who gets hit and who visits! it works very well both ways)

Link stared into the windows of the flower display, his eyes traversing the plethora of multicolored blooms for the hundredth time. He’d been standing there for a solid ten or fifteen minutes, the tinny muzak of the hospital’s gift shop threatening to drive him out of his mind. The furled petals of a bouquet of yellow roses shook softly as the refrigerated case’s motor kicked on, looking almost as though they were laughing at him.

He decided against those.

Swallowing hard, he absentmindedly rubbed his palms together as he took stock of his ribbon-bound options yet again.

Sweaty. Why was he so sweaty?

Just pick some, you idiot, barked a voice in his head.

“Excuse me, sir,” said a foreign female voice that startled him from his thoughts, “Do you need some help?”

He turned to see an older, brunette woman with the roundest eyeglasses he had ever seen smiling pleasantly at him, her hands clasped behind her back. ‘Alma’, her nametag read.

He shook his head, scrambling for words. “Oh, uh…no, ma’am,” he stammered, attempting a sorry excuse for a smile, “I’m just…browsing.”

“Are you looking for something specific?” She asked, peering into the cooler. “We have flowers for just about any occasion. Flowers can say a lot just on their own, you know.”

How about some that say, ‘Sorry that I hit you with my car, complete stranger,’ he thought to himself. Link chuckled uncomfortably, knowing that he was definitely going to have to lie to this woman. “I’m here to visit my, er, friend. She was…in a car accident.”

Read on AO3

Alma nodded solemnly, clucking her tongue. “Oh, how terrible. I’m very sorry to hear that. People really can be such careless drivers these days, can’t they?”

“Yes,” he said through his teeth, “they certainly can be.” His eyes were drawn to a bunch of sickeningly pink ‘It’s A Girl!’ balloons, a nearby oscillating fan causing them to bob violently every minute or so. The screech of the colliding mylar made his stomach churn, and he silently wished for death.

“Well,” Alma began, a cool burst of air escaping the display when she opened the door, “I’m sure that we can pick something perfectly lovely that’ll have your friend feeling better in no time.”

The woman pursed her lips as she surveyed the case, humming thoughtfully. She eventually gathered up a bouquet of light blue lilies, their pointed petals tipped with white.

“What do you think of these?” she asked, “We just got them in from Necluda. This variety is called the ‘Silent Princess’, I believe.”

Before he could answer, Link’s phone began to ring, the shrill tone making him jump a bit. He grinned sheepishly at Alma as he fished it from his pocket, groaning inwardly as soon as he glimpsed the screen. Tapping his thumb on the red ‘ignore’ button, he tucked it away.

“Those are great,” he replied, “I’ll take them.”  

Alma smiled brightly, motioning for him to follow her the checkout counter. “Excellent,” she chimed, “Can I put them in a vase for you?”

His phone rang again. Link felt his eye twitch.

“Uh, sure. I mean, yes, please.”

“Would you like to add anything else? We have these precious sand seal plushies that would be just ador—”

“Just the flowers will be fine, thank you,” he said, more hurriedly than he’d intended. Snatching his phone from his pocket, he turned away from the counter and held the cell to his ear.

“What do you want?” He hissed.

A jovial cackle came from the other end of the line.

“Well, if it isn’t CHU’s resident asshole.”  

Link pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger as he inhaled deeply. This was, decidedly, the last thing he needed right now.

“You called me, Revali,” he snapped, “Do you actually need something, or did you just want to be a dick?”

“You wound me, Link,” the other young man drawled, “Oh, no—wait. I’m not the one who’s wounded, am I?”

Link clenched his jaw, the snip of Alma’s scissors on the flowers’ stems suddenly and inordinately loud. He glanced up at the woman only to have her swiftly look away, feigning focus on her task.

“You’re quite the hot topic on campus,” he heard Revali sigh, “I’m almost envious, what with the way everyone’s got your name in their mouths.”

“Who’s talking about it?”

“Who isn’t talking about it? Link, you hit a woman with your car. In the quad, for the love of Hylia. How’d you even manage that, anyway?”

“Okay, look,” he nearly seethed, “It was not in the quad, it was the intersection next to the quad. And it was an accident! I had the right of way, I didn’t see her, and the—the walk sign wasn’t even on!”

“Was she on the crosswalk?”

Link balked as he conjured up the memory from the other day. It had all happened so fast; one minute he was putting on his turn signal, and the next a young blonde woman was sprawled out on the road in front of his car. “I mean…well, yeah, she was on the crosswalk.”

“Then she had the right of way. Pedestrians always have the right of way, genius.”

“I’m hanging up now,” he muttered, disconnecting the call to the sound of Revali’s raucous laughter in the background. His near equal on the university archery team, Revali and Link were self-proclaimed rivals; well-known ‘frenemies’ to the rest of their teammates. While Link undeniably respected him for his skill, he could also be a real pain in the ass.

Releasing a weighty sigh, he faced the counter again, only to be met with a piercing glare of disapproval from the woman standing behind it. His blood ran cold as he and Alma locked eyes, hers narrowed in wordless acknowledgment of his sin. Approaching the register, Link flipped his wallet open and removed his credit card before sliding it toward her across the grey acrylic.

“Ring up the seal.”

-

The ride up the elevator was gruelingly slow, the jarring ding! of the door opening on what seemed like every damned floor made Link’s head throb. The air inside the garishly carpeted box was stuffy and stagnant, the scent of antiseptic stinging his lungs with each inhale. He looked down at the overpriced stuffed animal in his arms and frowned, its judgmental button eyes boring into him. The sluggish chug of the ancient machinery as it whined to a stop was nauseating, jostling him just enough to make him dizzy.

He finally stepped off and onto the tenth floor, referring to the clumsy, smeared numbers written on his palm in red pen. Link wandered down a white linoleum hallway, the idle hum of incandescent lights buzzing overhead as he peered at room numbers; the water in the vase sloshed softly as he went. With the plush tucked under one arm and the flowers cradled in the other, he raised his fist to knock tentatively on a door marked 1003.  

“Come in,” responded a quiet voice from the other side. Link instinctively held his breath as he pressed down on the door handle, inching it open.

The room was cold and clinical, painted and furnished in subtle greens and dull blues. Aside from several dim wall sconces, a large westward-facing window adorned with heavy curtains was the only source of light. Pushed up against the center of the back wall was a slim hospital bed, and in it sat a woman that Link had seen only once before—unconscious on the asphalt in front of his sedan. Her eyes flickered up toward him as he entered, darkening with realization mere seconds afterward.

“What are you doing here?”

Link froze, his thoughts scrambling as both his legs and tongue refused to move. All he could do was stare at her, eyes trained on the clunky, neon-green cast that enveloped her left arm. A purply-green bruise around the size of golf ball sat just below one of her eyes, swallowing the tiny freckles that peppered her cheeks. Her bottom lip puffed out, an angry cut splitting it vertically down the middle.

She looked awful.

And she had somehow managed to be strikingly beautiful at the exact same time.

“Well, I came to, uh,” he started, his words leaving his mouth before he had time to appropriately process them, “I came to see…how you were feeling.”

The young woman scoffed, turning her head towards the window. It was then that Link noticed the sutures running along the underside of her collarbone. Guilt roiled in his stomach for the millionth time that day as she began to speak.

“Let’s see; I’ve got bruised ribs, a couple of chipped teeth, and a concussion. Oh—and my arm is broken,” she replied in a biting tone, “So, I’m not great. Thanks.”

After a moment, he took a few tentative steps nearer to her bedside. He watched her gaze gradually slide in his direction, meticulously studying his movement. Link sighed, looking down at his feet with a shake of his head. His chest felt suffocatingly tight, as though someone had his lungs trapped in an ever-tightening vise.

“Look, I know that nothing I say right now is going to make any of this less shitty,” he told her, “and I’m sure that I’m the last person that you wanted to see today. That being said, it would’ve been even shittier of me to not at least try and come apologize to you. Because I messed up, big time, and I’m really, really sorry.”

The young woman said nothing in response, absentmindedly picking at her fingernails as she considered his repentant declaration. Her brows knitted above her sea-like eyes, consternation marring her delicate features. Link’s resolve just about shattered when he saw the impending tears brimming at her waterline.

“And I brought you this seal,” he blurted out, placing the patchwork creature on the bed near her legs, “You just seemed like, uh…a seal person.”

To Link’s relieved surprise, the corner of her mouth quirked up as she looked at the stuffed animal. Picking it up and setting on her lap, a watery giggle burbled from her chest as tears slid down her cheeks. The chuckle soon morphed into a full-on laugh, a bright, contagious sound that filled the room. Unable to help himself, Link smiled, and was soon laughing with her despite not entirely knowing why.

“It’s cute,” she sniffled, wiping at her eyes.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, it’s really cute. Thank you.”

They smiled through the remnants of their laughter as it faded out, leaving the two in silence again. The setting sun bathed the room in rosy amber and cast fractured, pinkish shadows on the walls. Unsure of what else to do, Link set the bouquet on her curiously empty bedside table. It was then that he paused to take stock of the rest of the room, realizing that it did not resemble what he imagined the hospital room of someone who’d just been hit by a car to look like.

It was devoid of any other flowers save the ones that he had brought, and missing were cards and balloons from well-wishing friends. He furrowed his brow, and his heart sank when the most likely reason for the lack of gifts dawned on him. She must be in Central for school, he thought, and all of her friends and family were wherever home was. Or, even worse—they were around, but couldn’t be bothered to come and pay her a visit. Turning back to face her, he gestured to her plaster-clad arm.

“No one’s signed your cast,” he noted.

She gave him a queer look. “What do you mean?”

“Uh, that’s the thing to do isn’t it? Have your friends write their names on your cast? And put, uh, I don’t know…stickers on it.”

She shrugged. “I wouldn’t know. I’ve never broken an arm before,” she replied, shooting him a sly look. “I haven’t got many friends, either, I guess,” she added under her breath, face falling.

“Do you have a Sharpie?”

“Oh, um, I think I have a few in my backpack. It’s just over there, on that chair. Should be in the little side pocket.”

Link made his way over to a grey pleather armchair and unzipped the pocket in question, reaching inside to pull out several permanent markers. Returning to the bedside, he held them out to the blonde, presenting her with her choice of color; black, red, or blue. She looked up at him from beneath delicate lashes, grinning as she selected the blue one. She extended her arm, and he sat on the edge on the bed as he gingerly braced it with his free hand. After popping the cap off with his teeth, he scrawled his name on the lime-colored cast as gently as possible.

“Link,” she murmured when he’d finished, “I just realized that I didn’t even know your name until now.”

It was true. He knew her name, simply because he’d had to ask for it at the front desk, but they had never been properly introduced. Not surprising, considering the circumstances under which they came to know one another in the first place. He’d never seen her around campus before the other day, leading him to assume that they must not run in the same circles. That had to be the case, because hers was not a face that he would’ve forgotten.

“My name is Zelda,” she said, “Even though you probably know that already.”

“I do,” he admitted, “but it’s nice to officially meet you. Zelda.”

Her eyes crinkled at their corners when he reached out to lightly shake her fingers that poked out of the cast. He stood up from the bed, shooting her a quick smile before crossing the room to return the markers to her bag.

“Thank you for the flowers,” he heard her say from behind him, “Oh, and for my seal.”

“It’s the least I could do, I think,” he responded, “I mean, considering.”

“Still,” Zelda went on, “It was kind of you to come. I just…I appreciate the company. It was getting a bit lonely here.”

Link stilled at that. So, she really was alone. He almost didn’t want to believe that not even her own parents had bothered to stop by, that not a single friend had sent a card. It had to be a mistake; there was no way that such an enchanting person had no one to call on.

“The, uh, food here must not be very good, huh?” He tried.

She cocked a brow at him. “What?”

“Hospital food. It’s notoriously bad,” he clarified, attempting to mentally signal to her that he was, in fact, going somewhere with this. “If you want, I could bring you something. Later, I mean, for dinner. I think I probably owe you that, don’t you?”

It could have been the sunset, but Link swore that a blush darkened her cheeks ever so slightly when she smiled at him, nodding. “That sounds great, actually.”

“Alright, it’s a date, then,” he announced without thinking, wincing immediately afterward, “I mean, uh, sounds like a plan.”

“Here, let me put my number in your phone,” she offered, holding out her good hand. He fished it from his pocket and handed it to her, watching as she tapped in her contact info with her only her index finger. After a short discussion about what kind of food she’d like to have, they said their goodbyes with the promise of seeing one another later that evening. Link closed to door carefully behind him, glancing back into the narrow window to see Zelda admiring her flowers.

He shuffled into the elevator, wedging himself in between a group of nurses and weary-looking man with a fussy toddler on his hip. It was humid and it was loud, and anyone else might have wanted nothing more than to go home and go to bed. Link stared at Zelda’s name in his phone as the elevator made its agonizingly long descent back down to the lobby, already counting the minutes until he’d get to ride back up again.

-

-

-

I adored this prompt so much, I made it its own thing on AO3. Thank you for the ask! This was so much fun!

[yurtletheturtlehenderson]

COSMIC - S3:E1; Chapter One, Suzie, Do You Copy? - [Pt. 1]

A Will Byers x Reader Series

Summer brings new jobs and budding romance. But the mood shifts when Dustin’s radio picks up a Russian broadcast, and Will senses something is wrong.

A/n: Honestly this entire episode is gonna be fluff. I sprinkled a whole bunch of Y/n and Lucas brotp cause y'all loved it so much and honestly I love writing it. Lots of roasting each other this chapter. Also the Mike and Y/n dynamic after season 2 will be explained more as the season progresses. Enjoy!

||3rd Person POV||

The faint sound of crickets could barely be heard over the soft music of The Power of Love by Huey Lewis and The News plays from inside Castle Byers. Soft yellow light spills out from the cracks and slits of the castle from the battery-powered lamp where the young couple sat planning a campaign. It was clear that both had done a great deal of growing over the summer, just as their friends had. Will most of all, as he sat now in Castle Byers, he did so with a slightest of hunches seeing as he had sprouted tremendously in height. His shoulders had broadened a bit, and his voice had lowered as much had he had grown.

As for Y/n, the changes in her were more internal than external. Like Will, her physique had changed though not quite as drastically. Her features were far more defined than they had been in previous years, but the biggest change within her was how she held herself. The months since that dreadful night at the cabin, she had dedicated every spare moment to learning about herself... About her powers.

And now more than ever, she was one with her abilities. With help from El and the overwhelming support from Will, she exuded a whole new level of strength and confidence in herself. Something that set her apart from her previous attempts in secret the year before. Now with help, she thrived.

"The power of love is a curious thing

Make a one man weep, make another man sing"

"So what if, when they enter the tomb of Kuzatan - the villagers being in danger I'm sure would give them no way to cheat their way out - and then they..." her voice trails off, getting lost in the notes that seep into the air. She quirks a brow at the boy before her. "Will, hon? You listening?"

"Mmm?" Will hummed, torn suddenly from his blissful gaze.

Having been caught staring at Y/n, she realized he had missed the question. She laughed, shaking her head. Butterflies erupted in Will's stomach at the sound, and he realized he may never grow tired of it. He still couldn't believe his luck that she was dating him.

The corners of his lips tugged into a small grin as he mumbled a 'sorry'. Y/n simpered, trying to shake off the dizziness in her head that always appeared when he made her heart flutter.

She returned to her notes, and he lovingly watched her speak. His eyes would occasionally fall to her lips but he was drawn back to her eyes and the concentration they possessed. All the while the sappy lyrics spilling their way into his subconscious as he listened.

"Don't need money, don't take fame

Don't need no credit card to ride this train"

Just two years ago, the thought of her liking him was a myth in his eyes. Her ever noticing him as more than a friend was a sickly sweet dream that would never see the light of day.

"It's strong and it's sudden and it's cruel sometimes"

And last year, with the Mind Flayer... He hated the thoughts he had, the feelings he felt when the Mind Flayer took over. The hate and disgust that crept up whenever she was around but he fought it. Though he could never forget the look on her face when the Mind Flayer attacked her.

"But it might just save your life

That's the power of love"

But now. They were happy. She saved him, and after his recovery, they were finally together.

"Will!" She laughed sharply, reaching over and swatting him lightly on the arm with her notebook.

Will was pulled from his daze yet again, no longer trying to hide the happiness and bliss he felt.

She smiled fondly and shook her head, placing her arm on his shoulder and pulled him in for a kiss. The music playing from the radio she had gifted to him a year before swelled as their lips met in a tender kiss.

"That's the power of love,"

After several moments their lips break apart but their foreheads remained glued together. A light laugh breaks out between them, escaping through the blinding grins carved into their faces. Her eyes travel from the ground to meet with his, only to find he had already been staring at her with the same lovesick gaze. It brings the same storm of butterflies in her stomach and sporadic beating of her heart.

Neither Will nor Y/n could recall a time either of them felt this happy.

Y/n's gaze flickers back to Will's lips. She flashes a warm grin and gives him one last and swift peck on the lips before sitting back up. She tucks her notes father into her lap and that is when she catches sight of the time displayed on her watch.

"Shit,"

Immediately, Will's mood shifts.

"What? What's wrong?"

Her eyes find his and she quirks a brow, her hands already collecting their campaign papers and stowing them away in a safe place.

"We're gonna be late."

Out of reflex, Will checks his watch. His eyes widen in a brief flicker before gathering his things, though his movements are not as hasty as hers. He gathers his campaign papers, his eyes glazing over several notes he had made. The smallest bud of unease blooms in his stomach.

"You really think they'll like this campaign?" He asks, his gleeful composure fading for the first time since her visit.

The ache in his voice captures her attention, and quickly she drops what she's doing. She immediately recognizes the uncertainty in his features and feels a tug on her heart. A sad smile graces her face, and she drops her folder before leaning forward and cupping his face in her palms forcing him to look at her. His wide hazel eyes search hers finding nothing but love and comfort in them.

"They're gonna love it, Will. Cause, it came from you. Remember, " she smirks when his smile begins to return. "I'm just helping out."

Before he can protest she brings his face forward with a small hum, planting a kiss on his nose with a dramatic smack of her lips. His face erupts into a violent shade of scarlet against his wishes. After all this time, Y/n still managed to have this effect on him. She begins to lean away when she knows she's cheered him up, but before she can escape he captures her in another sweet kiss. He can faintly make out the f/f Slurpee that lingered from earlier that day. She hums contently and it blends perfectly with the drumming of his heart. He can feel his cheeks grow hot not just from his fluster but the feel of her palms growing warm against his skin.

Like Y/n's laugh, her warmth was something he was certain he would never tire of. It was something he had always seen in her, but after her powers had been discovered, it was only more obvious. Her touch always reminded him of the sun streaming in through the window on a chilly morning; a toasty blanket of light that hit your face just right. And he felt it now on his face as she kissed him. Although it was cut far too short in Will's opinion as she broke apart for air. Her thumb softly strokes his cheek, the pads of her fingers and palm still warm to the touch as sends him one more reassuring smile.

"And even if they don't," she continues, a spark of mischief in her eyes. "I'll blast 'em for ya."

Will chuckles, bringing his hand up to cup hers in thanks, nevermind the fact he didn't want her to let go quite yet. Alas, yet another moment lost to time. Her warm palms leave his face and immediately he feels colder, but he also knows they don't want to miss the movie. He smiles to himself as he packs up the remainder of his things as he thinks about it. His hands were almost always cold, a trait he had long before the Mind Flayer. And had it not been for her powers, Y/n might have been the same. It was yet another reason they fit so well together.

The crunch of a very small twig beneath Y/n's sneakers bring him back to reality for the third time. He looks up at Y/n to find her balanced on her tiptoes, legs folded ready to stand and she extends her palm for him to take.

"Come on, Sir Will," she says through a coy smile, her head gesturing behind her towards the cloaked entrance to the castle. "Starcourt awaits."

He brings himself to his knees to match her, ready to stand and duck outside into the night when he takes her hand. His thumb grazes her knuckles before planting a quick kiss on them, bringing a natural heat to her neck and face.

His face quickly contorts into a feigned expression of seriousness, all while dawning a fleeting and silly attitude as he waves his finger in the air. The way he always did as Will the Wise during campaigns.

"Then what are we waiting for, Y/C/N? Let us make haste!"

Will watches triumphantly as her lips press into a firm line that begins to twitch, the tell-tale signs she was fighting a losing battle with a grin as she shook her head. Y/n had yet to get used to this side of Will, though she did enjoy it. Since their time at the Snowball he had been far more relaxed. To the point where he would be cracking jokes, or surprising her with romantic gestures as such. It rarely came out like this, and when it did it was never around the others. It was something she wished they could see, but Y/n couldn't help the flutter of her heart knowing she was the only one to bring it out in him. She looks down at his soft gaze and humor in his eyes, before rolling her own, rising to her feet, and ducking out through the curtain door to avoid being caught with a smile.

"Dork," she laughs, her knuckles tingling from the unexpected gesture.

She hears his soft chuckles from behind her before he joins her side, and the couple falls into a comfortable silence as they grab their bikes off the forest floor and ride off into the night to the infamous Starcourt Mall.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

An excited grin finds Y/n's lips as the stunning neon lights of the mall come into view like a rather large homing beacon. Since its opening towards the beginning of the year, it had been flooded with people as it was now. And it was often frequented by the party as it quickly became their favorite hangout - besides Mike's basement of course - and it was on nights such as this they'd meet for a movie.

The giddiness in Y/n bubbled intensely when the welcoming aroma of salted pretzels and Hot Dog on a Stick mixed somehow perfectly with the scent of freshly-ironed linen and various perfumes, assailed her senses. It was the smell of the mall, the smell of summer, and the smell she often associated with many of her movie dates with Will. A favorite of theirs, which they had only seem a mere two weeks prior, was a newer film called The Goonies.

The rag-tag group of kids reminded them both of their own group, particularly the plucky and lovable Chunk who wistfully reminded Y/n of her brother who was currently away at camp. And Mikey, of course, the one to step up when everything went south reminded them both of their own Mike. And something about the kid on screen gave him a familiar and bittersweet feeling that tugged at his heart. Weirdly, he reminded Will of Bob and it made him smile a bit. Like he got to see him again.

The following week, the young couple dragged their friends to see it, assuring they'd love the film which they of course did. They only wished Dustin could make it there with them, but it was quickly decided they would a day of it when he got back. They certainly knew they wouldn't mind seeing it a third time, not if they got to see Dustin's reaction. Everyone back together again. Though Y/n and Will wouldn't miss the absence of teasing and/or disgusted remarks from Dustin on their relationship, that was for sure.

The pair slide their bikes into the bike rack before dismounting, and Will looks around a bit confused, his eyes flickering to his watch.

"Did we miss them?"

His worry melted when he saw her perfectly blissful composure, a soft smile playing her lips after checking her watch.

"Nope," she chirped, walking forward and taking his hand in hers walking him to the door.

"But the movie? You said it starts at eight," he asks, walking alongside her as his hand is tethered to hers. "It's eight twenty-five."

Y/n caught the closing glass door with her one free hand and the two slipped inside after the small group ahead of them, all the while her content never seemed to waver. She stopped suddenly and the crowd of people coming through the doorway flooded in around them, but his confused stare remained fixed on her as her wide eyes took in the exuberant sight before them. He could see the neon dancing in her e/c eyes as she looked to him smiling mischievously - and proudly at herself - as she pointed to the sign beside the door. His attention flickers to the bulletin board erected near the entrance. In a clear display of various showtimes, just under Return to Oz at eight-thirty was Day of the Dead at nine.

"I said the plan was to get here at eight," she smirked. "not that the movie started at eight. This way, you and I can swing by Scoops Ahoy, or whatever really, before the others get here."

"And they get here at..?" His growing excitement written on his face betrayed the hesitation in his voice.

She deflated a bit as she shrugged.

"Eight forty-five. Which gives us only twenty minutes, or so. I was hoping for more, but..." she trailed off with a smile, and gently poked his arm with her elbow, her hand still intertwined with his. "planning that campaign was fun."

A weak chuckle breaks loose, and he blushes under her gentle stare. Yet again Will wonders how he found himself with her, what he did to deserve her company. Almost as if sensing his thoughts, she shook her head wistfully, shutting down the thoughts before breaking out into a small jog towards the escalators.

"Come on," she laughed, pulling him along. "We don't have all summer!"

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

The two emerged from Flash Studios with giddy laughter and stomachs coated with their favorite snacks from their previous visit to the food court. They smile down at the glossy photos they each possess, pointing out their favorite traits of the portraits they had just taken. Four photos of them - each in a more bright and colorful wardrobe than the previous - as they struck silly poses and crazy faces. All but one; which reminded Will of an even better version of the old science fair photo he had not-so-secretly admired for years.

Y/n wore an elated grin, but her eyes had closed. Her arm wrapped around Will as he planted a kiss on her cheek - the unexpected gesture being what prompted her eyes to flutter closed. All the while, the hand that had snuck around his back could be seen poking out from behind his head creating bunny ears.

The others were of equal quality, each with their own charms and unique mannerisms. Particularly the one of them back to back, arms folded and a silly feigned smolder but the bunny ears remained their favorite. It was a visual representation of their relationship and how far they had come.

Y/n slips her copy back into the thin plastic sleeve before dropping it at her side, the small handle hole dangling loosely from her curled fingers as she looks to Will. He is still admiring the photos in his hand and the look on his face - the happiness carved deep within his features - made her heart swell. He had been through such a great ordeal, more than any of them could ever possibly know - aside from El of course, who knew the heavy weight of trauma all too well. But now, in these moments together, and much like the ones back in Castle Byers, he seemed truly happy.

'He deserves it,' she thought to herself.

The two of them made sense together, and not because Will had carried a torch for her for so long, but because of the little things. The way they made each other laugh, the way they brightened each other's day. The way one spat between them, no matter how big, was never enough to break them but make them stronger.

It was because they were best friends.

Against her desires, Y/n broke her gaze away from Will and to the clock hanging over the fountain near the main entrance. The blue and yellow hands read eight thirty-eight. She deflated a bit, and nudged Will with her elbow.

"Well, the other's should be getting here any minute," she sighed, and he turned to look at her. "So I guess we should head back to the entrance."

Will nodded, already tucking the now sleeved photographs into his backpack before slipping it over his shoulder. Together, the two of them make their way back. Their footsteps have grown slower in the subconscious efforts of prolonging their alone time together. Will throws a glance Y/n's way as they walk, a tired smile fixed on his lips.

"What do you wanna bet we'll be waiting even longer for Mike?"

She now understands his subtle shift in demeanor, and it spreads to her as she lets out a flattened chuckle. She understands exactly what he is talking about. While she initially was very happy for her friends, Y/n was not immune to the growing impatience the rest of the party felt with how much time Mike and El were spending together.

"Nothing. I'm not dumb enough to take that bet." She scoffs back.

Will knew the frustration leaking through to her voice was not directed at him, but their shared frustrations with their friends. Each of them missed them a great deal despite a whole summer together. Y/n rarely saw El now, and Will saw Mike just as often. Alone time that is, any get-together the party planned - beside Starcourt due to the precautions surrounding El and her safety - El and Mike were hardly present. They globbed onto one another to the point they rarely spoke to the others - and no one could speak to just one of them alone anymore.

Like her boyfriend, Y/n enjoyed this summer greatly - particularly since Will had been such a big part of it - but the party had begun to grow lonely. More complicated that is. Dynamics between everyone were far more complex than they ever had been the older they got. Mike's frustrations with Y/n from the previous year were quicker to simmer down than she initially thought which relieved her greatly. But she wasn't sure if it was because they were all older, El was back to stay, or enough time had passed - or possibly all of the above - but things between her and Mike were just different. With everyone, in fact.

Y/n was grateful to have Lucas still, he remained the friend she could go to when she had a problem. Her best mate in DnD, and the boy she could always count on to be looking out for what was best for his friends as well as himself. But lately, he had been spending all of his spare time with Mike when neither of them were with their girlfriends.

This was another reason - out of many - that Y/n was more than thankful to have Will by her side. They both had felt a bit ostracized after the events of the previous year. Will's recovery had not been a quick one, but Y/n was there through thick and thin. As was he with her own struggles regarding the life of hers that once was, and the scary truths she faced with the tremendous powers inside of her. Hours of their lives had been spent pouring over the Missing Experiment files that Y/n still held in her possession - far away from her mother of course. A dark thought - not the first of it's kind - popped into her head about her friends' distance; Perhaps this was why she and Will were often forgotten...

Y/n immediately shakes the thought away, casting it further into the shadows of her mind. As she does, she is overwhelmingly grateful for the sudden sight of bright orange hair and a tye-dye cap. Relief washes over her and Y/n snatches up Will's hand, all traces of sadness gone and eagerly she drags him to the entrance doors faster.

Max Mayfield and Lucas Sinclair dismount their bikes, far too fixed on sweeping the crowd for any sight of their friends to notice Will and Y/n's bike parked just a few spaces over.

Lucas sighs, resting his hands on his hips as his head rolls to look at Max displeased. "First ones... again. Think they'll ever learn how to get here on time?"

Max shrugs, eyes scanning the parking lot wearing a less than impressed expression. "Doubtful."

"Welll," Lucas's expression changes quickly as he slips into a hopeful sing-song voice. He grins down at her from his less than obvious growth spurt. "At least we're alone..."

Max's deadpanned expression comes to face Lucas, though she can't seem to mean it. Her lips pucker as she tries not to smile, failing miserably. Instead, she laughs, her mouth parting to fire a comeback when the sound of her name enters their ears from behind them.

Max turns to find her best friend speed walking towards her, a hand gripped tightly around Wills. Will sent both Lucas and Max a soft smile, and she found it easy to replicate. She liked Will, and his somewhat timid presence made her induction of the party a lot easier. But it was Y/n she was most excited to see.

Max and herself had quickly become the best of friends. With Dustin gone, and the guys distancing themselves she once again began to feel adrift. Sensing the same discomfort in Max, and the bonds forged in the horrifying events of the previous year, the friendship blossomed.

"I stand corrected," Max remarks to Lucas as the couple approaches.

Lucas bit back a laugh.

Y/n simpered, sending a look Will's way. "We got here early. Got to roam around a bit."

The pair nod and Max sends Y/n a playful smile. Y/n releases Will's hand and with simultaneous grins, she and Max step forward towards each other. They bump fists three times before grasping one another's wrists and leaning back as they each balance on one leg and pull themselves back in. They share a small laugh and turn to the others with a giddy smile, Lucas and Will having already gotten used to their closeness. And the new handshake they had developed over the summer.

"So, tell us," Max begins, a mischievous smirk flickering to her boyfriend before landing on Y/n. "how is the happy couple enjoying their last night of freedom?"

Everyone laughs in response, knowing full well she is referring to Dustin's return from camp tomorrow. Since the Snowball, more specifically the official beginning of Y/n and Will's relationship, Dustin - while begrudgingly willing to admit he was happy for them - was less than pleased with their closeness. And he made no effort to hide it.

"Pretty good, I'd say," Y/n laughs, looking to Will who nods.

"We got some good photos over at Flash," he finishes.

Lucas and Max share a knowing expression before sending a flat, unimpressed look to either of their friends.

"What?" They ask in unison, furthering their point.

"Just," Lucas laughs, gesturing to them. "you two. You guys are-"

He looks to Max and it doesn't take her long to complete the joke they had clearly practiced at least once before.

"finishing each other's sentences." Without skipping a beat, or making eye contact, the second couple bump fists. Max laughs, revealing her light-hearted teasing. "Honestly, it's sickening."

More titters break loose, and Will rolls his eyes despite a smile."Whatever,"

"Yeah," says Y/n, amused tone growing flat again. "At least we're not like Mike and El."

A bitter, but mostly disappointed chuckle ripples throughout the gathered group of friends as they reflect, all of them silently agreeing. Finally, Will diverts their attention to the aforementioned Wheeler boy.

"Hey, where is he anyway?" He asks, looking at his watch.

"Take a guess." Lucas retorts.

"Well, he better hurry!" Max says, looking around matter-of-factly. "Or we're gonna miss the previews."

"Forget the previews," Y/n huffs, hands beginning to fiddle subconsciously with her watch. "We're gonna miss the opening at this rate."

"No way I'm missing the movie," Max remarks, arms folding over her chest as Y/n nods along with her."I'm going in with or without him. If he's late, that's on him."

"Wait-" Lucas's gaze fixes on a spot in the busy parking lot, and quickly he gestures. "There he is!"

"About time," Max grumbles.

Their collective gaze carries them to a bike being ridden by Mike Wheeler that peddles through the parking lot of Starcourt Mall. The entire lot is lit up by the strips of neon light, illuminating all the cars and turning the black tarmac of the concrete a deep blue. He sails into view, gliding through the intricate web of mall-goers with ease only to come to a gradual halt before their feet at the bike rack.

They all wear unimpressed looks as he discounts his new bike, a model he upgraded to only months ago, that he now secures in a spot beside Lucas's. Like the others - perhaps, even, the most - he has grown tremendously. He stands several inches taller, and for reasons unknown to a select few of his friends, the abrasiveness he had obtained the previous year lingered though not nearly as intense.

"You're late," Lucas huffs.

"Sorry," Mike says through shortened breaths.

"Again."

"We're gonna miss the opening," Will scolds.

"Yeah, if you guys keep whining about it." He retorts. "Let's go!"

Mike jumps into line with his friends, rushing for the doors as if the comment hadn't struck another nerve with his friends. Lucas' voice raises in pitch as he contorts his face, mocking Mike.

"If you guys keep whining about it. Nyeh-nyeh-nyeh."

The small act draws out a laugh in Y/n, a wide and mischievous grin stretches across her face as she matches his pace.

"No, Lucas," she corrects gently, pulling his gaze towards her as they walk."You gotta repeat yourself for emphasis if you wanna sound like Mike."

Everyone but Mike breaks into hysterical grins and wide eyes. Lucas' eyes light up as does his smile, his finger wagging excitedly as he nods and he scratches his chin and clears his throat. Mike all the while casts Y/n a sour look before rolling his eyes.

"My bad, Y/n, you're right." Lucas nods to her. "Set me up,"

Max and Will catch each other's smiling eyes before watching their partners' antics.

Y/n's smile drops, knowing immediately what he means, and exaggerated frown forms. "What are you talking about?"

Lucas's pitch grows high as does the volume of his voice as they enter Starcourt Mall, Y/n, and Will for the second time. Lucas's eyes grow wide.

"If you keep. Whining about it!"

The friends lock eyes and begin whining in sync.

"Nyeh-nyeh-NYEH!"

They burst into their own shared fit of laughter that doesn't quite reach the others in the same intensity, though smirks are still screwed tightly into Will and Max's cheeks. Mike's frown hardened as he stares dead ahead, and it breaks only once to send a cold glower to the conniving pair of friends.

"Hilarious." He deadpans.

"I thought so," Will chirps with a laugh.

The group rounds the corner, Shannon's Do You Wanna Get Away fights its way through the natural buzz of mall-goers as it plays overhead in the speakers, subconsciously filling the group of teenagers with building anticipation.

"Surprise, surprise," Mike fires back. "Look, there's nothing wrong with spending a little romantic time with my girlfriend."

"Of course there's not, Mikey," Y/n says, nimbly maneuvering through the small crowd that approached. "But this has been going on all summer, we're way passed,"

She brought her fingers in quotation marks. "'a little,'"

Before he can fire a response, The Party reaches the escalators. A plethora of apologies and 'excuse me's leave their lips as they weave through the crowd standing idly by as the escalators take them down.

"Hey!"

"Sorry, sorry, sorry,"

"Excuse me, I'm sorry."

"'Scuse us! Thank you,"

They finally break through the wall of agitated people, Y/n's shoulder had accidentally hooked with another young woman who looked to be several years older and sent an apologetic look over her shoulder. Her gaze returned to the front just in time to see something similar happen to Mike, who collided with a girl their age rather roughly.

She continued walking with her friends but sent a bitter look his way.

"Watch it!"

"Yeah! Watch it, nerd!"

The Party's attention was brought to one of the benches surrounding the small decorative garden. There sat along the edge surrounded by her friends, was Erica Sinclair enjoying a vanilla cone with extra sprinkles.

"Isn't it passed your bedtime?" Lucas asks her as they pass.

"Isn't it time you died?" She fires back, causing a wide smile to break out on Y/n's face.

Mike is the first to enter Scoops Ahoy as he scurried inside ahead of everyone else, Lucas and Y/n being the last of the bunch inside.

"Lucas, you grossly underestimate your sister and it disappoints me greatly."

"Shut up, Henderson." He huffs.

A bright and satisfied laugh breaks loose from her chest as she files in with the rest of her friends and boyfriend to Scoops Ahoy. She quickly recognized the long cropped bob of dark blonde hair stuffed under the AHOY sailors hat and smiled subconsciously knowing Robin was at the counter. But much to her distaste, Mike began ringing the bell repeatedly in a shrill pattern that irked her.

Robin sent the boy a dissatisfied look, and without so much as blinking, she called back to her coworker in back.

"Hey, Dingus, your children are here."

The frosted glass windows are thrown open to reveal a disgruntled Steve Harrington in a matching vibrant blue sailor costume with a matching red name tag. His eyes land on The Party, all whom of which stand with blank and bored expression with the exception of the young Henderson girl who flashes a weak and toothy smile. He sighs with half-lidded eyes, his expression worn and tired.

"Again? Seriously?"

Mike slams his hand on the bell with an impatient look, earning three similar frowns from the two employees and Y/n Henderson.

Steve stands impatiently at the back door as the five teenagers seem to be taking their sweet time going through the back, completely disregarding his rules he had laid out. After all, he was risking his job for them to do this, and it seemed only few took it seriously.

"Come on, come on," he hisses.

They all file out of the door without so much as a second glance, except for Y/n, who held up the back and seemed eager to get out. She lingered by Steve, sticking her hand out and begrudgingly he complied. Their knuckles met in a quick fistbump they had begun doing one day when Dustin and herself had visited with him. A genuine smile lit up her face from a simple happiness that could only come from a Henderson.

"Thanks for all this Steve,"

She scurried down the hallway with her friends, remembering the rules, and not wanting him to get in trouble. But her face lights up, and Y/n spins on her heel to face him, still walking backward.

"I'll tell Dustin you say hi!" She calls.

Steve watches as the group disappears down the hallway, and he shakes his head with a heavy sigh as he leans against the doorknob.

Okay, so they weren't all that terrible.

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Twelve Days of Holly Jolly Tidings - Day 6

Disclaimers: I watched “Dash & Lily” the other day on Netflix. This story is LOOSELY based on that book and Netflix series.  I do not own “Dash and Lily” or Newsies or anything recognizable within the series.  There are occasional curse words throughout the series, nothing too horrible but there’s some.  

Wednesday, December 18

Gathering her stuff, she trudged over to the elevator, happy to finally be leaving her work behind. It had been a shit day and it didn’t help that one of her articles was sent back to her desk with red ink all over it.   

Walking out of the elevator, she smiled seeing a man standing there waiting for her. “Thank God you’re still here. I thought you might have snuck out.” 

“Nope . . . just got my ass chewed out and an article was just redlined back to me.” She sighed, running a hand through her hair. “Not that I don’t love seeing you, but what are you doing here, Spot?” 

He held up the familiar green notebook, grinning. “I’ve been recruited to deliver this to you. But there’s something you need to do first before you can get this.” 

“And what’s that?” Her eyebrow rose in curiosity, Spot holding the notebook just out of her reach. 

He smiled, tucking the notebook in his back pocket. “Have dinner with me?” 

“So I’m guessing today’s adventure isn’t on some sort of time table?” She guessed, looking over at him. 

Shaking his head, he started walking, not waiting for her to catch up. “No, there’s not. Something has to be done tonight but not a strict schedule. Now can we go get dinner?” 

She looped her arm through his as they made their way down the street. “And what’s for dinner, oh grumpy one?” 

“Just for that, you can pick up the bill.” He stuck his tongue out at her as she scoffed. “Kidding but I’m thinking Chinese.” 

“Sounds good to me. Lead the way, dear sir.” She grinned, trying to avoid the hip check that was coming her way; she was unsuccessful. 

Holding open the door, he motioned for her to go in first as he followed behind her. The door shut with a gentle bang as the hostess led them over to a table. Taking off her coat, she threw it in the booth before sliding in it as Spot did the same on the other side of the table. 

“Have you been here before?” She asked, giving him a look as she opened her menu. She immediately knew what she wanted, closing the menu with a snap. 

Spot looked up briefly before returning to his menu. “Once, Race took me here for a date a couple of years ago. I remember this place having really good food.” 

Nodding, she tapped her nails on the table watching him trying to figure out what he was going to order. “You figured out what you want to eat already?” 

“I tend to get the same thing when I go out for Chinese so it’s not rocket science.” She shrugged as the waitress reappeared with two glasses of water and a pot of tea. 

Quickly ordering, they were left in silence as Kat looked at him. “What’s been up with you? Seems like it’s been a while since I’ve seen you.” 

“You saw me last week for our annual lunch date. Hospital has been busy so I’ve been pulling more shifts.” Spot grinned, shaking his head at her. “What’s up with you?” 

Kat motioned to him. “You know what Jack’s been doing?” 

“He mentioned it last time Race and I saw him.” Spot shrugged. “I think it’s sweet that he’s planned this out just for you. He just wants to see you smile, Kat.” 

She nodded. “And it’s been fun to follow his adventures and I’ve had a great time with them.” 

“So what’s the problem?” Spot asked, as their order of Crab Rangoon were delivered to the table along with a couple of plates. 

Picking up a Crab Rangoon, she put it on her plate, pulling it apart and popping a piece in her mouth. “It feels like something is missing or I’m not picking up on something.” 

“So you’re putting an expectation on this?” Spot picked up exactly what she was doing. When the two had met, they had instantly connected and had become fast friends. Spot was her best friend, outside of her group she still hung around from college. 

Kat sighed, giving him a look. “I am trying not to but my brain keeps doing it.” 

“You need to tell your brain to knock it off. There shouldn’t be any expectations along with this.” Spot reached over, grabbing her hand, giving it a squeeze. “Jack is doing this to bring a little more holiday cheer to your life. He wants you to be happy and he designed this for that sole purpose. You need to get out of your head this time and just go with the flow. Maybe that’s what Jack is trying to teach you with these adventures - letting go and letting loose.” 

“Letting go and letting loose?” Kat raised an eyebrow at him. “Have you met me?” 

He chuckled. “Yes, I’ve met you. You’re one of my best friends. Don’t put yourself down but I’m challenging you to let go and let loose.” 

“Ugh . . . alright.” She sighed, nodding her head as their food arrived. 

Spot raised an eyebrow, looking up at her before he dug into his meal. “If you’re going to be like that, then I triple dog dare you to let go and let loose tonight.” 

“How old are you?” Kat asked. She should be shocked by his response but they had known each other long enough that it didn’t even phase her. 

“I’m the same age as you.” He stuck his tongue out at her as he laughed.  “Are you going to shy away from a triple dog dare?” 

Biting her lip, she pushed her food around on her plate. “No, I’m not going to shy away from a triple dog dare!” 

“What was that? I couldn’t hear you.” He teased, putting his hand near his ear. “Can you repeat that?” 

“I’m not going to shy away from a triple dog dare, old man!” She raised her voice a bit as he laughed, nodding his head. “Make sure those hearing aids are turned up.” 

Looking around them, he quickly flashes her his middle finger as she laughed.  “Love you too Conlon.” 

“It’s Higgins-Conlon, Plums and it’s been that way for the last two years.” He gave her a quick smile, shoveling another forkful in his mouth.

Pushing her plate away, she gave him a tentative smile. “I’m sorry, my apologies Mr. Higgins-Conlon.” 

“Thanks, love.” Sending her an air kiss, he grinned. 

He signaled for the bill, quickly paying it before he leaned back in his seat. “So where is he sending you tonight?” 

“Not sure.” She laughed. “I actually have to read the notebook.” 

Grabbing the notebook from his coat, he tossed it across the table to her. He signed the receipt, watching her crack open the book. 

Hello love, 

I hope you had a wonderful sixth day of Christmas and I hope you had a wonderful dinner with Spot. 

“You told him you were taking me out for dinner?” Cocking an eyebrow she gave him a look. 

Shrugging, he put his credit card back in his wallet. “It may have come up.” 

You’re going on a night adventure tonight. I’m changing it up for today’s adventure. Spot’s going to give you something before you leave him and that’ll give you the ticket to where you need to go.  You’ll need to get on your beloved D-train and take it out to 79th Street and Utrecht. 

You told me that one of your favorite childhood memories was going to look at Christmas lights with your parents and siblings when you were younger. I’ll let you in on a little secret, that was one of my favorite childhood memories as well. It was so cool to see how people would decorate their houses with simple strings of lights and a few blown up characters. 

So tonight I’m sending you to the ULTIMATE Christmas tree lights display in the city.  Once you get there, continue reading the notebook. 

Closing the book, she looked at Spot. “You’re supposed to give me something.” 

“I did . . . I gave you the notebook.” Spot gave her a look, tilting his head. 

Pointing to the notebook, Kat gave him a look. “Jack mentioned that you were going to be giving me something else.” 

“Oh, you’re looking for this.” Grabbing something from his back pocket, he handed it over to her. Accepting it, she saw it was a ticket. Flipping it over, she saw that it was a ticket to the Dyker Heights Christmas tour. 

“He’s sending me to Dyker Heights.” She said, as Spot snorted. 

“Have fun with that one.” Spot chuckled, shaking his head. 

Giving him a look, Kat tilted her head, not understanding why he was laughing.  “Why do you say that?” 

“Have you ever been to Dyker Heights during Christmas?” He raised an eyebrow, knowing exactly what she was getting herself into. 

Shaking her head, she slid the ticket in the notebook, before slipping that into her bag, giving Spot a look. “Do I dare ask what I’m getting into?” 

“Nope, you’re not getting that out of me. Just let loose and go with the flow tonight, okay?” Spot gave her a look. “Now go have fun and I cannot wait to hear all about it.” 

Putting her coat on and grabbing her bag, she leaned over and kissed Spot’s cheek before making her way out the door. Walking to the nearest Subway station, she paid before waiting for the train to arrive.  She looked around at the few people who were on the platform, bouncing on her toes to try to stay warm. Finally, the train arrived, as she boarded and found a spot. 

The train ride was quicker than she thought. Before long, she was walking off the train and through the station. She walked a couple of blocks and her eyes went wide at the brightness of the street. Everywhere she looked were covered in multicolored lights. Every street lamp, every fence, and every square inch of the houses were decorated. 

Hopping up on a brick wall fence, she dug the notebook out of her bag, opening it up. 

So you’ve made your way to the Dyker Heights Christmas Extravaganza.  This is the jolliest street within Brooklyn. Apparently people flock from all over the city every year to take in the brightness and cheer. 

So, my challenge to you, lose yourself in the wonder and the awe of the street. Listen to the history on the tour and join in the singing. Just enjoy yourself and have fun. 

Wish I could see your face right now - I’m sure your face is a mixture of fear and pure happiness. Look for Max, he’ll have a surprise for you. 

Closing the book, she looked around her.  Jack was really throwing her for a loop. The past 6 days, he had hidden the surprise in some random places but Max was a new one. 

“Are you Katherine?” Looking up from the notebook, she gave him a look. 

Jumping off the wall, she slowly nodded. “I am. And you are?” 

“The tour guide, Mitch.” He introduced himself. “And we’re about to start the tour.” 

She nodded, making her way over to the group.  Mitch started by greeting everyone before starting the tour.  “The Dyker Heights Lights displays started in the 1980s and it’s been a yearly tradition for many families since. Lucy Spata started the Christmas Lights tradition when she moved to the neighborhood in the 1980s. She decorates her house to carry on the tradition her mother had started.” 

She made her way with the group as they stopped at each of the houses along the street. Mitch would give them a brief history of the house and the family. He described that there usually was a theme that the neighborhood would decide on, leaving it up to each family to decorate their houses how they saw fit. 

Her eyes went wide taking in the Polizzotto’s house - it had a 15-foot-tall Santa Claus, and even taller nutcrackers. 

They continued down the street and stopped in front of another house. A giant Grinch was in the yard along with his dog, Max. Kat’s eyes went wide thinking back to the notebook and Jack’s note - Max. 

Her eyes swept the house, trying to figure out where Jack would hide the box. Nothing jumped out at her at first until her eyes landed on a divet in the brick wall. Leaning over, she grinned seeing a purple wrapped box, where a brick should’ve been. Pulling the box loose, she backed away from the group, letting them walk ahead without her.  Pulling the wrapping paper loose, she tucked it away in her bag before cracking open the box. Inside, laid a red Christmas bulb charm. Grinning, she closed the box back up and tucked it away. 

Grinning, she looked up and down the street and felt absolutely happiness. She grinned, letting herself go, just like she promised Spot, and twirled around as snow started to lightly fall. Throwing her head back, she caught a few snowflakes in her mouth, giggling the entire time.

So that’s day 6. What did you think? Feedback would be amazing and wonderful! 

[qweeby]

Nine Lives To Short Part 4: Not Yours To Lose

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Paring: Shinsou x Reader

Genre: Angst

Taglist @foxypuppy @bakuhoetoedoroki

Plot: You only have 9 days to tell him how you feel but maybe 9 days just isn't enough

-The time as come for your date-

"You ready, Cat?" Shinsou asks opening the taxi door "Yeah I'm ready Shinsou" you say with smile.

" JUST GET IN CAR YOU IDIOTS!" Katsuki yells while he kicks Hitoshi in the back "Ok Ok calm down Bakugou!".

All of you get in taxi, you in the middle, Shinsou on the left and Bakugo on the right. "Again why is Bakugo coming on our date?"

Kaminari closes the taxi door " Because I'm broke, Izuku has training to do and plus...."

Bakugo takes it wallet and waves a credit card in your face " I have Icy Hot's credit card!".

Izuku looks surprised " Hey I-isnt that Endeavor's?...."

Without saying a word Bakugo just rolls up the window sticking his tongue out at the both of them. "KACCHAN DON'T WASTE EVERYTHING ON ENDEAVOR'S CREDIT CARD!"

" LIKE LOSING 50 CENT IS SO FUCKING IMPORTANT TO THE NUMBER 1 HERO SHUT UP DEKU! AND YOU DARE TELL ICY HOT".

Bakugo kicks the drivers set "THIS IS YOUR FAULT FOR NOT PULLING OFF EARLIER! DRIVE DUMBASS!"

The taxi takes drives off, you slap Bakugou in the back of the head " What's wrong with you don't talk to the driver like that! HE'S LITERALLY THE ONE DRIVING US TO OUR DESTINATION"

"Tch, be glad I got this extra moving this damn thing".

Hitoshi sigh while you and Bakugo argue back and forth " Hey Y/N"

You and Bakugo are pulling on each other's face pinching one other but then stop to look at Shinsou "Yeah?"

"OI DON'T IGNORE ME!"

"That eyepatch that Denki gave you is it bothering you?"

"OH YEAH THE EYEPATCH" while the boys were visiting you Kaminari gave you an Eyepatch for your "messed up eye" as a get well soon gift that he asked Momo to make.

"It's fine Hitoshi you don't have to keep checking in on me"

"Well that's not true I should always be checking in on you I basically have to since you like to keep secrets"

The taxi stops at a red light....behind a line of traffic.

"Secrets? What about my secrets am I not aloud to have them Shinsou?"

Hitoshi crosses his arms "Well when you keep secrets about the pain you're feeling that's definitely not something to keep to yourself but here you are". You look at Shinsou but he doesn't look at you he actually turns away from you facing the window.

"Hitoshi...."

" OI WHY DID WE STOP MOVING?"

The taxi driver looks back at Bakugo and points to the now green, " WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU POINTING AT THE LIGHT IS GREEN KEEP IT MOVING!".

" Hitoshi what's up with you why are you acting like this?"

Hitoshi face palm's "I've been like this for the pass week! I've noticed you've been acting weird first it's asking for your quirk to be Erasure by Aizawa then you don't eat lunch! THEN you asked that stupid hypothetical".

" YOU'RE STILL ON THE QUESTION"

"YES YOU THINK I JUST FORGOT ABOUT IT THE NEXT DAY HELL THE ONLY WAY I KNEW YOU WERE HURTING WAS BECAUSE I HAD USED MY QUIRK ON YOUR DAD.

You look away from Shinsou crossing your arms as well shouting at him "YOU USED YOUR QUIRK ON MY DAD WHAT HECK SHINSOU WHAT'S !WRONG WITH YOU. Do you think this is easy for me? having to deal with that fact that I'm running out of time and I only have 9 days left to live! You think I can just blurt that out!".

Hitoshi finally looks at you but the look in his eyes....the look of despair is all you see.

"What...."

"Shinsou i-...I can explain...."

"YOU'RE DYING IN 9 DAYS! WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME!"

"Hitoshi...this isn't the time or place to talk about this!" You lean back hitting you head on the window but then you realize, " Wait I'm sitting in the middle how did I hit the window, why didn't I hit Baku...BAKUGO!

You and Hitoshi stick your heads out of the window to see Bakugo jumping on top of each car and truck hoping car to car making his way back to the taxi from the front of the line of traffic yelling " OI YOU SHITTY DRIVER!"

" BAKUGO GET YOUR ASS BACK IN THIS TAXI".

Bakugo being Bakugo ignore you and stomps on the hood of the taxi " SHITTY FUCKING DIVER ANSWER MY QUESTION!"

"Y-yes?.."

" YOUR QUIRK TELL ME WHAT IT IS NOW! RIGHT NOW"

" W-when I tap my foot I-i can make people see different colors... it's not special why d -do you ask....".

Explosions pop in Katsuki's hand like someone lit thousands of firecrackers all at once " IT'S YOU YOU'RE THE REASON WHY EVERYONE IS STUCK HERE DAMMIT THAT LIGHT ISN'T SUPPOSED TO BE FUCK BLUE! IT'S SUPPOSE TO BE GREEN LIKE DEKU!".

The taxi driver claps his hands turning off his quirk making the traffic light turn back to green.

" W-what do I do now-".

Bakugo steps on the windshield cracking it.

" When I get in that back seat you better STEP.ON.THE.FUCKING.PETALLLL!!! YOU GOT IT!" The taxi driver nods with tears in his eyes waiting for Katsuki to get back in taxi.

Bakugou walks to back of the taxi getting in as he grinds his teeth slamming the door, " AND QUIT YOUR JOB WHEN YOU DROP US OFF YOU SUCK AT DOING SUCH A BASICALLY HUMAN REQUIREMENT I FUCKING QUIRKLESS WANNABE CAN DO THIS 50 TIMES FUCKING FASTER AND BETTER!".

The driver rides off while you and Hitoshi are left dumb founded " Bakugo....what the actual fuck". Bakugo ignores the both of them "Shut up! Don't say a word to me it's not me who you should be talking to right now."

Hitoshi puts his hood over his head " That's what I meant back keeping secret...what the hell am I suppose to do with that information"

" I don't know! Do what you will with it!"

" THAT'S WHAT YOU SAY! DO WHAT YOU WILL WITH IT?!"

You go quite as you hear that spine chilling voice once again.

He says...." You are such a fool"

" AND THERE YOU GO NOT SAYING ANYTHING!"

"HITOSHI SHUT THE HELL UP WHY ARE YOU SO WORKED UP ABOUT EVERYONE IS GONNA DIE! You are never gonna know when you will die! We could die in a car crashes right now and say fuck my 9 days left! THAT'S HOW THE WORLD IS!".

Hitoshi grabs you by your shoulder and hood falls off but in the process of it falling you and Bakugo see his his tearful face.

" It's not suppose to happen to you Y/n NOT THIS EARLY W-WE STILL HAVE ALL THE TIME IN THE WORLD TO-"

You punch the back the head of the driver's seat yelling " WAKE UP HITOSHI I'M NOT YOURS TO LOSE!"

.

.

.

"How could you say that.... your gonna lose him Y/N"

" I need to get out of this car right now..."

Hitoshi says as he unlocks his side of the taxi the door.

" Hey! Where are you going! Hitoshi!"

" Don't say what you think he's just blowing off steam...but you'll explode....it always come to that point"

The clouds above start to settle making there dark night sky into grey gloomy night.

" Where are you going back to her!?!"

He stops walking "Of course he does".

" Who told you..."

You start to laugh as rain lightly pours down, " Ha HA WOW! Looks whose keeping secrets now!"

" Tch it's technically not a secret if you knew for a while"

"Hitoshi don't get smart with me just get back in the car please".

"No I'm not getting in".

In the blink of a eye the rain turns from a light shower to heavy, the sound of every droplet hitting the ground can be heard.

Bakugo closes his eyes as he knows what's about to happen "Fucking dumbass's"

" Hitoshi get in the car!"

"IM NOT GETTING IN THE CAR"

"FINE GO BACK TO HATSUME!"

Hitoshi clenches his fist "MEI HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH YOU DIEING SO DON'T BRING HER INTO THIS IT'S NOT HER FAULT"

" Y/N...you are such a fool" the cat says as he lays ontop of the car rooftop.

" IF ANYTHING IT'S YOUR FALUT! YOU'RE THE REASON IM GONNA DIE!"

Hitoshi just turns away and continues to walk away "YEAH GO AHEAD WALK AND DEAL WITH THE FACT THAT IF I DIE IT WILL BE ON YOU HITO-"

Bakugo covers your mouth and pulls you back into the car "You really don't know when to shut up, Oi driver...the petal STEP ON IT!"

They drive off as Shinsou walks away in the rain.

"Bakugo let me go!" " No dumbass just stop fighting! He's gone ok....he's gone".

You holds bakugou's arm " h-he's gone...." you snatch off the eye patch throwing it out of the window while the purple sits on your lap.

"You made him leave, why even act surprised it was only a matter of time"

"....Bakugou where are we even going?"

" Where the hell else we're going on a date"

You glare at Bakugou "reallllllllly??? But why?"

Bakugou turns his head away blush while he pets your head running his finger through your hair "If you do have only a limited time....I wanna treat nice so we don't end on bad terms and plus I don't need a fucking spirit haunting me".

You smile right after that you place your hand on Bakugou's face " Bakugo that's so sweet of you" " Tch shut up dimwit"

-A few minutes go by-

You and Bakugou lay in the taxi though Bakugou is awake while you sleep, he's been calling Hitoshi but it just goes straight to voicemail.

" Stupid Cat lover I can't believe he left me with her like that when I see that idiot I'll give I'm a piece of my mind"

"Umm sir this is your stop?"

"YEAH JUST GET ME OUT OF THIS SHIT"

Bakugo kicks open the door stepping out the car with you on his back. He walks towards the restaurant but then stops as the taxi driver honks the horn " I-I dont get a tip?...."

"A tip?....YOU WANT A TIP I'LL GIVE YOU A FUCKING TIP HOW ABOUT YOU GO FUCK YOURSELF AND YOUR SHITTY QUIRK AND YOUR SHITTY TAXI SERVICE! NEVER EVER GET BEHIND THE WHEEL AFTER TONIGHT!".

The taxi driver speeds off leaving dust in bakugou's face "I'm gonna find him later and kill him"

" Thanks for making my eardrums bleed"

"Thanks for waking up just in time for dinner".

You get off of Bakugou's back stretching and yawning "Hey before we go in I want you to know something", "Hm? Yeah?".

"No matter what happens to you if you die or not...always know that every second is a gift".

He turns to you holding out his hand "So come on chances like this happens once in a lifetime don't waste this second".

You take Bakugou's hand " I wouldn't dream of missing this gift.

.

.

.

For the rest of the night you and Bakugo have a fantastic time, you start to see a side of him that no one else's sees. Bakugou can be caring sweet and kind regardless of those facts he's still Bakugou so you know when the bill came he was outraged and made a scene.

-Meanwhile with Hitoshi as he was making his way home-

Hitoshi looks across the street and stares at you house and thinks about he used his quirk on your dad it reminds him of all the words people used to say about him and his quirk

"You a Hero HaHa! You're kidding right Hitoshi!"

"A hero who brainwash people come on get real that'll never work"

" Your qurik isn't really fit for a hero"

".....it's was you that made me believe I could be someone more"

Shisou think's back to the day you stop up for him when he was being picked on by the other kids.

"HEY! DONT MAKE FUN OF SHINSOU! I think his quirk is super cool! He'll be a really cool hero that saves the night! The Awesome Hero MindFreak!"

"Mind Freak....I like it..."

"See Shinsou likes it!"

" Of course Y/n thinks Shinsou's cool you think anyone with a power is cool"

"I bet you she wants to be a hero too! With no quirk? Now that funny!"

"Don't listen to them Shinsou I know that one day people will see how great you are like I do You'll be a great hero !"

Hitoshi frowns while muttering " A great hero....that's funny because how could a great hero make such a rookie mistake".

"I'm no great hero....I wouldn't even call myself a villain. If the reason for your pain is me....if I'm the reason for your death then I'm nothing but a monster".

He drys his eyes before walking inside "Nothing but a monster."

♡♡♡♡♡♡💔💔💔

Even though tonight ended with a somewhat happy ending for one of our heroes the clock is still ticking

"And we are finally on track with on plans of stopping".

[kbridges]

Yes

8th member of GOT7: Ela

Pre-debut

April 2015 

Finally tomorrow came and Dain was having mixed feelings; is she excited that she might be a GOT7 member soon? Yes, she is. Is she scared that they will say no and she still has to wait to debut? Most certainly she is. But something is telling her everything will turn out great. After she came back home from the company she couldn't fall asleep she had a bunch of scenarios of what it will be like in GOT7. Let's get kpop a little twist she thought. 

In the morning she went to the company to practice of course but also she had a meeting with JYP and GOT7 again. The meeting that will determine her future. On the way there she was surrounded by high school students that started to talk bad about her because they saw she was their age but she is not going to school. She got these comments for years even though she has been going to school 3 times a week. But she never said a thing just put on her earphones and enjoyed the ride.

When she arrived at the company she saw the manager that usually was looking after her Ms Kang. She told her to leave her stuff at the locker and do some vocal training because she will be meeting GOT7 and JYP so she can't be sweaty from dancing. After Dain was singing for almost an hour around 11 am she was called to go meet with others in the meeting room. She took her water bottle and went in. She was the first one to arrive but GOT7 arrived shortly after. They were really calm a little bit more talkative and energetic than yesterday and Jackson sat next to her and started to make small talk. Dain felt relaxed. After a couple of minutes, JYP arrived with JB. She realized that maybe rest of GOT7 was like that to her because JB wasn't with them, he is a respected leader. When the meeting started she had a feeling like she will faint. 

JYP grabbed everyone's attention when he said "So GOT7 will you accept Dain as a member yes or no? If yes I have a slide show that will explain your concept and goals with Dain in the group." 

"After a short debate and democratic voting, we say yes.", JB said in the most neutral voice she had ever heard.

"That's great. You won't regret this I promise and Dain promises too. Right, Dain?", JYP asked with a smile.

“Yes. I feel honoured to be accepted in this amazing group and I hope to be a helpful and a promising member. Thank you so much.", Dain said enthusiastically. 

There were cheers from some other members mostly maknae line and foreign line. She felt happy but at the same time, she saw that JB and Jinyoung didn't look that thrilled with the decision.

"Okay, so I'm happy that you've chosen this path because if you look at this," JYP said as he pointed to the projection of the plan for now new GOT7. 

"I got a question from JB yesterday if you will have to make choreographies easier since Dain is a girl and if the future concepts will be less masculine. My first answer is choreographies you had till now will stay the same because Dain won't be performing them with you. All new songs that you will put out as 8 will have choreographies made for a male group. Dain has been dancing to male group's choreographies since she was 12 and she claimed many times she feels better dancing to them. Is it true Dain?", JYP explained.

"Yes, I feel like I have better stage presence with boy choreographies and I can't wait to dance with you guys.", Dain said shyly.

"Great. So next thing you need to know is that the concepts will change like they always do. Your next concept will be cute and before you blame her for it don't because it was planned since September of last year. I will give you 2 weeks to get to know each other better and become friends with your new member. She is a vocalist for now, this will be her only official position. I would like for Dain to move into your dorm till the end of the month and I want to trust her with someone responsible like Mark you two can be roommates since Dain here can speak English so you can communicate well. Okay if you have any question please ask.", JYP finished the presentation.

"Like I don't mind sharing a room with her but isn't our dorm too small?", Mark asked.

"Oh, yes about that. You will be moved into a new dorm next week. The dorm will have 4 rooms so you will be split into pairs of 2. You have two bathrooms one is a small one and one is a big one and I would like for you to let Dain use small one the most. Okay?", JYP asked them. 

"Yes.", they all replied. 

"This is great we get a new member and a new dorm. This is like buy one get one for free situation. Nice.", Jackson added. 

"If that's all for today I would like to talk to your managers after this and then you will get more detailed information from them for the next few weeks. For now, take the company's credit card and treat yourself with a meal as a group and don't forget that Dain needs to come with you too.", JYP demanded as he gave JB a credit card.

"Thank you sir." they all replied. 

"It's okay but don't spend too much.", JYP replied. 

After this, they all went to a restaurant where they talked and get to know each other. This was just the beginning of Got7's and Dain's interesting journey. But she has is a bit scared that JB and Jinyoung are not as welcoming as others. Even she knew that the situation was quick so they must be still shocked with her as an member. But as they say time will show everyone’s real faces.  

[bangtanfancamp]

the Devil wears Gucci- Pt 1

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Masterlist

▪︎series masterlist

▪︎Kim Taehyung x reader

featuring kim Namjoon

▪︎1.8k words

▪︎enemies to lovers au, fashion industry au, f*ckboy au

▪︎Fluff, romance, slight angst to come

(pic Credit to vantaeholic)

As the dedicated personal assistant of the genius mind behind House of RM, the empire that rules the fashion industry, your world is turned upside down the day Namjoon personally asks you to train his newest hire- the eternally insufferable Kim Taehyung.

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The early morning energy of the city buzzed around you as the tips of your chunky heels clicked against the pavement. You inhaled the sweet autumn air wistfully as a crisp breeze set to ruffing wispy tendrils of your hair loose. You’d have to fix that before your boss saw you- he hated the slightest trace of disorder-but you’d deal with that later. Traipsing down the sidewalk, you’d be damned before you missed even a second of this precious autumn sunlight.

Still, you shouldn’t linger too long. Places to be and all that. Refocusing, you tottered toward the entrance, carefully balancing a tray of coffees in one hand. As you approached your building, you took one last wistful look at the glorious morning sky before fumbling in your overstuffed purse for the key card to the elevator, the sensible part of your brain forever nervous of displeasing that high maintenance man. You didn’t dare be even a second late to see your boss-Namjoon was excruciatingly strict when it came to punctuality. You’d seen his intensity before when people were even minutes late, and though it was always a majestic sight to see- like witnessing the power of some apex predator- you were determined to NEVER be on the receiving end of it.

Realizing that was becoming more and more of a possiblity the longer you dawdled, you dashed into the office building, bolting through the elevator‘s closing doors. As the doors floated shut, you spared a glanced at your watch- 6:48am.

Phew. You would be okay. Letting your back rest against the cool metal wall of the elevator, your eyelids fluttered shut. If you weren’t 10 minutes early, you were 10 minutes late to Namjoon. “You’re totally okay. You’ve got this” you told yoursef.

Drawing in a slow breath, you used your free hand to snake your calf-hugging, plum pencil skirt back into place, blasted thing was always riding up when your hustled about too fast, and made sure your silky blouse was still neatly tucked at your waist.

Looking down, you eyed the pair of chunky heels you were breaking in today- you hoped you wouldn’t regret that. The crushed black velvet heels had just looked too cute to leave in your closet this morning. This is about the aesthetic™️ you thought, glancing down and wiggling your freshly painted black toes. As the doors began to open, you checked your reflection in the metal one last time, tucking the loose, wind blown strands back into place and steeled yourself to enter the office.

You were in Namjoon’s kingdom now.

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“Good morning sir!” you bubbled out a bit too brightly once you reached his desk. “Hazelnut latte with an extra shot, just for you,” you chirped, plunking the cup down beside him.

Before half the employees had even clocked in, he was already deeply engrossed in the paperwork stacked high on his immaculate marble desk. Who knows how early he’d arrived here or if he’d ever left last night. Eyes never leaving his laptop, he absentmindedly waved an elegantly long hand at you- silently acknowledging your presence without ever looking up. “Yes, yes- agenda for the day.” He sighed, more of a demand than a request.

Without missing a beat, You began to rattle off off his detailed schedule for the day. “Yes sir—today you have an 8am call scheduled with your distributors in Hong Kong, a 9 am session with r&d to review their most recent mockups for the Sable line, your 10:30 workout, an 11:45 lunch with Castille to discuss the potential merger, and a 2:30 flight out to Miami for that charity gala event this evening at 7.”

Phew. Just reciting it made you winded- how on earth he lived it was still beyond you. But that was Namjoon. A visionary who had started his company from the ground up at only 17, he now ran one of the most successful fashion houses in the world. It had become such a massive brand that he barely even handled any design work anymore, focusing instead on his role as CEO overseeing his vast empire.

Namjoon was infamous in the industry for the way his work consumed him. He existed at a constant breakneck speed few humans could match-It was a wonder any man could maintain the pace he had for the past 10 years, but he showed no signs of slowing down. And anyone else who couldn’t keep up, employees and girlfriends alike, was immediately left in the dust.

That was just how he operated. He was like a shark that never stopped swimming.... which unfortunately meant that you couldn’t either. A fact that had been graciously withheld when you’d originally applied for this job.

You’d been hired as his assistant a year and a half ago, fresh out of college, bright eyed and eager to change the world- and afford your own apartment. As someone completely unfamiliar with his world, the job as his assistant had sounded alarmingly simple on paper and ludicrously overpaid. You’d been over the moon to get it.

That is, until you showed up for your first day and quickly realized that working for him meant YOU had to adopt his excessive hours and match said breakneck pace just to stay one step ahead of his constantly shifting scheduling. This career was the furthest thing from a blow off job, but the looming series of zeroes your newly signed lease wouldn’t allow you to back out now. No, you’d just have to figure out how to grin and bear it for the time being. And over the past year, you’d managed to excel if you did say so yourself- especially considering that beyond the prestige of his reputation and the sheer intensity of his workplace demands, just remembering your own name in the presence of his beauty made even the most simple tasks complicated. Shaking out of your thoughts, you carefully tuned in to listen once Namjoon spoke.

“Very well- have Marco deliver my navy Armani suit to the hotel for this evening’s gala. Remind Mina that her deadline on the Rodan account is fast approaching- I need her presentation mock-up in my hands by no later than 1pm tomorrow, and for the love of God, don’t let them put soy in my latte again!” He slammed his drink on the desk as you rushed to grab the cup before it spilled.

“Absolutely sir, I’m so sorry. The soy was for my coffee. They must have misheard my order. I take full responsibility.” You bowed apologetically.

“It’s forgotten.” He pivoted in his chair to look up at you, and your breath caught in your throat. You hated when he looked directly at you like this- it was too much. The man was stunning. It was problematic really. He already made you nervous enough. You really didn’t need the added difficulty of having to maintain direct eye contact with those deep set eyes of his. So you deviated to study his perfectly coiffed blonde hair instead. It had a silver sheen in the early morning light, delicate wisps artfully styled across his brow and arranged in a way that shouldn’t have been achievable at this early hour. “I have a personal task I’d like you to take point on today,” he gritted out, jaw set in concentration.

“Anything, sir,” you nodded, with an eagerness that made you cringe. It was embarrassing how much you wished for his approval. You were good at what you did and you knew it- which should have been enough for you. And it was. Sort of. Most of the time. But on days like this, when you’d already jumbled your first task, something in you clammored for a chance to earn his praise back in a way you didn’t quite understand. You were good at this job- but honestly, how many times had you flubbed the coffee now? You hated when you made small blunders that made you seem incompetent. You knew better by now, and Namjoon knew it.

He cleared his throat before he began, and you flinched. “A former mentor of mine has contacted me with the intention of having his nephew shadow me and learn the business. I am not in a position to tell him no, but I have neither the time, the patience, nor the inclination to teach right now. However, I am indebted to his uncle. So He will start with the company today, and I will leave his starting training to you. Once he has learned the ropes, I will handle the rest.”

Well that’s certainly not what you thought this was going….

“No one here has caught on as quickly as you did as a new hire. Your first month with the company was exemplary. Despite your occasional hiccups,” he eyed his latte with derision,” the majority of your execution in your work is flawless.”

That was the nicest compliment he’d ever paid you- and even though his eyes had long since gone back to his paperwork, you blushed anyway.

“Thank you, sir,” you replied hastily, words tripping over themselves in a jumble.

“When he arrives, you will educate him on how the company operates and train him in all your responsibilities. He will be your assistant for the time being. Following our standard trial period, he will be placed in whatever position best suits his skillset after that.”

“Yes sir, it would be an honor.” You were determined to do well at this. Besides, How hard could it be anyway? “What time will he be arriving today?”

“Unfortunately, he should be here any moment no-“

“GOOD MORNING, PEOPLE!!!” a baritone voice boomed as the door to Namjoons office was practically torn off its hinges.

You gaped back in surprise, not missing the way your boss rolled his eyes at the intrusion, as a young man about your age strolled lazily into the office. He was tall and excruciatingly handsome. His silky chestnut hair swept across his forehead, swinging against his lashes and barely hiding the devilish smile in his eyes. He wore a crisply pressed white shirt- its top buttons brazenly undone- with the sleeves cuffed up to the arcs of his forearms, black patent shoes and the tightest pair of black dress pants you had ever seen. They clung to his legs, and you saw muscles in places you had never imagined muscles could be as he swaggered right up to you.

“Hey unc,” he tossed at Namjoon. “Hey to you too” he winked salaciously at you. It was so greasy it made you want to go home and take a bath.

“______, this is …”Namjoon began...

“Taehyung” he interrupted. “Kim Taehyung. Tae to anyone as pretty as you.” Bowing at the waist, he took your hand and kissed the curve of your knuckles, never once breaking eye contact.

You snatched your hand back, wiping the back of it against your skirt. You wanted to crawl under the desk and die. Who did this guy think he is? You turned your pleading eyes to your boss who surely must have seen this idiot’s conduct.

“All right, that’s enough, Kim. Hands to yourself on company time.”

You huffed through your nose as you shot Taehyung an irritated side eye. Unfortunately, it only seemed to make his smirk grow.

“_____ will be handling your training as my schedule is currently booked solid. Any questions you have for me go directly to her. She will teach you everything she knows and train you to be her assistant. If you can survive that, we’ll discuss any further promotion opportunities then. And only then,” the gravel in his tone there intentionally to intimidate.

“So I’m getting paid to spend time with her? Sir, yes sir,” Taehyung’s voice dropped impossibly low on the last part, more of a rumble than a whisper, as he dragged his eyes along your form. You felt a disgusted shiver run through you. He was gorgeous sure, but this behavior of his was gross. God. It was going to be impossible to get anything done with him.

“Keep it in your pants, Kim.” Namjoon snarled impatiently as he stood from his desk, still somehow towering over the other boy, if not in stature then by pure intimidation alone. “You would do well to learn even a shred of the skill set _____ has. Some respect would do you some good. Don’t for a second think you are here on your own merit. I love your uncle, but he is the only reason you're here, and the only reason I haven’t terminated you all ready.” The leer in his eyes made you tense and it wasn’t even directed at you.

“ The second you fail- like I know you will- you will be out of here so fast, it will make even your empty head spin.” He glowered down at taehyung and dropped his voice. “And if you make ____ the slightest bit uncomfortable in any way, I will not hesitate to throw you out of here myself.”

Your lips parted at this display of protectiveness, and you felt your chest soar. You peeked out of the corner of your eye at Taehyung. His cocky smirk never faltered, but you caught the way he swallowed, the subtle way his jaw clenched at the reprimand.

“Now…. if you’ll both excuse me, I have a call to prepare for. ____ , I expect a detailed progress report by the end of the day and a weekly update as this matter continues.” Namjoon rebuttoned his blazer and began to reorder the presentation on his desk.

“Yes, sir,” you nodded obediently. “I’ve already ordered a replacement drink for this morning’s coffee. It should arrive shortly. Please don’t hesitate to let me know if you need any assistance.”

You turned on your heel, brushing past Taehyung’s shoulder as you made your way toward the exit. You could feel his hungry eyes on your hips as you walked, and you suddenly wished you had time to head home and change. You clutched your tablet to your chest and prayed this day would end, but it was barely 8 am.

God, this was going to be hell.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Thank you so much for reading guys!!! Part 2 coming soon. Thank you so much for visiting my little corner of the internet and making it to the end. Please let me know what you think. I’d really love the feedback.

(Also is anybody else swooning over them at the Grammys? I swear those boys were invented to wear suits. Tae trending as the guy with green hair and Namjoon in those glasses? Oof. What looks.)

Part 2 is now up!!

Series masterlist

[pr-ay-the-gay-away]

Scammer Pussey is gonna be a speaker at the National Achiever Congress in Manila, the Philippines and I don't know if I should laugh or cry about it. What a fucking joke, how could they even invite that piece of shit. Although the whole NAC is a piece of shit itself but still, Ew!?! I'd love to read some of your words of wisdom about this (+ the scammer video ofc) I thought it was fake when I saw it on IG but then one of the promoters/organisers shared it on their FB page. What a tragedy.

With more noise than ever, it’s never been more important to be able to stand out by truly connecting with your audience and your customers. But how do you do that? Matthew Hussey has built a global brand with an audience of over 5 million followers. His talk will show you how to attract an audience, be the rockstar of your industry, and connect deeply to build lifelong relationships with your customers! - that's the shit they wrote. He gained half of those followers after the PR

Hell, I'd love to see him on stage in front of strong, independent feminists and to see then what kind of a "rockstar" he is. He couldn't gain that many followers in a span of 10 years alone if there wasn't a PR - what an achiever he is, stealing credit cards information! But even with the PR with Camila, even with the shout out from Eva Longoria, he is still so irrelevant to the GP. Sorry for spamming you, I just needed to share this with someone who'd understard me 😁

- - - - - - - -

“Although the whole NAC is a piece of shit itself”

Yeah, no kidding

Every single one of these characters - except maybe for Sir Richard Branson - is a scam artist of the highest order. I mean:

Donald “The Art Of The DealFinancial and Moral Bankruptcy” Trump

Tony “The Power Of IncantationsAbuse, Harassment and Threats Of Litigation” Robbins

Robert “Rich Dad, Poor Dad” Kiyosaki

T. Harv “Secrets of the Millionaire Mind: Upsell Bullshit to Gullible Schmucks” Eker

Check out the following excerpt from this review on T. Harv Eker

Every single one of these fellows pictured and listed above - once again excepting Sir Richard Branson - has been bankrupt/broke before. They are common lowly sociopathic scam artists. The only reason L. Ron Hubbard isn’t pictured up there is because he’s long dead.

Matthew Hussey is in great company amongst all of his fellow scam artists 

It’s also no wonder that Tony Robbins is someone that Matthew admires (Note: Lavely & Singer are Tony Robbins’ legal representatives)

“... that's the shit they wrote.”

You missed the best line! That opening first line about setting up an Instagram account

It literally made me think of this

undefined

“He couldn't gain that many followers in a span of 10 years alone if there wasn't a PR - what an achiever he is, stealing credit cards information! But even with the PR with Camila, even with the shout out from Eva Longoria, he is still so irrelevant to the GP.”

Gurl preach! Right??

Matthew Hussey is a chauvinistic, fraudulent, scamming piece of Z-list trash who is absolutely thirsting for fame and attention and who will ride the Hollywood train as far as it will haul his slimy, sleazy, desperate, scam artist ass

But let’s watch the street team fans and astroturfing accounts do their best at selling the idea that he’s the prime example of a “healthy (straight) relationship”

[paralleljulieverse]

It is common knowledge that Star! –– the spectacular 1968 Julie Andrews musical currently celebrating its 50th anniversary –– underwent substantial editing in the wake of its ill-fated US release. Dismayed by the film’s poor box-office and panicked by the rapid downturn in the domestic movie market, Fox executives ordered a series of increasingly drastic cuts to Star!, culminating in the film’s ignominious withdrawal from distribution in June 1969 and subsequent re-release four months later in a radically shortened, re-titled version as Those Were The Happy Times (formerly known as Star!) (Edwards 1993; Holston: 220-21). This sorry tale of post-release hatcheting is part of the historical legend of Star! and also part of its unjust reputation as “the H-bomb of musicals” (Kanfer: 78). 

What is possibly less well-known is that Star! underwent select trimming before its release, as well. At the end of the film’s post-production in April 1968, director Robert Wise had assembled a working rough cut that was shown to studio personnel and test-screened with two preview audiences in Cleveland and Denver in early-May. The response was overwhelmingly positive. Of the 814 preview cards received, 633 rated the film “excellent”, 146 “good” and only 3 marked it “bad” (Edwards). Nevertheless, Wise and editor, William Reynolds, went back to make a number of further adjustments to the film ahead of its global premiere in London in July 1968. Much of this late-stage editing work was relatively minor –– pruning a shot here and there in order to tighten pacing –– but several short narrative scenes were also cut in their entirety. 

None of this material was particularly significant and, given that the final roadshow release of Star! ended up with a marathon running time of 176 minutes –– enough to “test the patience of even those of us enamored with Andrews, musicals, and showbiz dramas” (Betancourt, 2014) –– the cuts were possibly all-to-the-good. Still, it is not difficult to see what these excised scenes were designed to achieve and, in some respects, their loss exacerbated problematic aspects of the film’s narrative complexion. 

What follows is a brief catalogue of the major scenes dropped from Star! They are presented in order of where they originally occurred in narrative sequence. For the most part, details are taken from the final shooting version of the screenplay by William Fairchild, dated 25 January 1967, and augmented where possible with archival material. 

A further sense of where and how these “lost scenes” functioned narratively is provided by the paperback novelization of Star! by Bob Thomas (1968). As discussed in a previous post, novelizations were a popular feature of film culture in the 1960s and 70s. Because they had to be written well in advance of a film’s release, novelizations were typically adapted from shooting scripts and rough cuts and, as with Bob Thomas’s adaptation of Star!, they frequently include narrative material that didn’t always make the final cut.

                               ______________________________

Lost Scene 1: Gertie and the Singing Doughboys

Screenplay Scenes 35-36, 38 (filmed 19 September 1967, Stage 22, 20th Century-Fox Studios) This short sequence occurred immediately after Gertie makes her stagedoor flight from the disastrous Daffodil Girls music-hall performance in Swansea (“In My Garden of Joy”). In it, Gertie is shown hitching a ride with a military supplies lorry back to London in search of better opportunities. An establishing external shot (35) shows the lorry rumbling down a country road past a “London 34 miles” signpost, followed by an internal shot (36) of the driver’s cabin with Gertie sandwiched between two young soldiers in uniform, all singing a lively chorus of “Oh, It’s a Lovely War” (Fairchild: 25; Thomas: 26).  In earlier versions of the screenplay, this short sequence was preceded by a number of additional scenes (33-34) showing Gertie working odd jobs and sleeping in a train station but these were dropped prior to production and never filmed. A further shot (38) that was filmed but subsequently cut during postproduction occurred in the ensuing scene where Gertie arrives in London and sneaks her way into the Lumley Court Theatre in the hope of auditioning for André Charlot. As she stops in the theatre alleyway, Gertie looks up at the poster advertising the new Charlot revue and whispers to herself “quietly but with complete confidence, ’…With Gertrude Lawrence!’” (Fairchild: 28). 

While minor, this cut material clearly worked to underscore Gertie’s driving ambition and her determination to do whatever it takes to realise her dreams of stardom.

                              ______________________________

Lost Scene 2: Gertie and Billie Carleton

Screenplay Scene 53 (filmed 29 April 1967, Stage 14, 20th Century-Fox Studios) This scene followed Gertie’s triumphant ‘understudy’ performance of “Burlington Bertie”. After the narrational newsreel footage detailing Armistice Day celebrations and the return of star Billie Carleton to the theatre, Billie is seen backstage surrounded by well-wishers from the troupe. Gertie appears from one of the dressing rooms and comes up to greet Billie with ‘star’ and ‘understudy’ indulging in affectionately bitchy repartee. Played with camp theatricality and lashings of “dahhhlings” and air kisses, the scene highlighted Gertie’s growing sense of hauteur and theatrical confidence, while emphasising her thwarted ambitions. It thus helped preface the later confrontation scene (55) between Gertie and first husband, Jack Roper where he complains, “ever since you’ve been put back in the chorus, it’s been nothing but belly-aching!” (Fairchild: 52). 

Interestingly, this sequence between Gertie and Billie was the only sustained dialogue scene to feature Lynley Laurence, the actress who plays Billie Carleton in Star!. With its excision, Laurence’s role was reduced to a handful of mostly non-speaking scenes, though she would still receive a special featured screen credit in the final film. 

As another interesting aside, the dialogue for the cut scene has Billie Carleton joke that Gertie likely wishes “I’d broken my neck”. The real-life Carleton did in fact die not long after the events depicted here. Following a gala ball at the Albert Hall to celebrate Armistice on 27 November 1918, Carleton returned to her suite at the Savoy Hotel where she was found dead the next day from a cocaine overdose. It was a huge scandal at the time that subsequently formed the basis for Noël Coward’s first hit play, The Vortex (1924) about drug abuse and sexual impropriety in English high society (Hoare: 37-39).

                              ______________________________

Lost Scene 3: Gertie and Sir Anthony Go Boating

Screenplay Scene 61 (filmed 29 June, Regent’s Park, London; and 23-24 August 1967, Stage 21, and 8 September, Stage 22, 20th Century-Fox Studios) This was the first of several cut scenes detailing Gertie’s blossoming romance with Sir Anthony ‘Tony’ Spencer (Michael Craig) and, with it, her rise in social status. Immediately following their first dinner date where Gertie alternately titillates and shocks the assembled society guests with ribald theatre stories, Gertie and Tony go on a ‘date’ to the boating lake at Regent’s Park (Fairchild: 60-61). As the pair sit in the rowboat, Tony explains the history of the Park in florid detail as Gertie looks glum and distracted. “Words!”, she says dejectedly, “I look at things and all I can say is –– they’re nice!…You’ve got to teach me more words”, thus highlighting her recognition of the need for increased social sophistication. After a further exchange, Gertie moves in to give Tony a kiss when the rocking of the boat throws her into his arms.

The allusion in this scene to linguistic training sets up a marked Pygamalion / My Fair Lady dynamic with Tony cast as a Professor Higgins-type figure –– albeit, more “patient and kind and wonderful” –– who helps mentor Gertie in the ways of aristocratic high society. There is even a pointed reference in the dialogue to Gertie’s background as a Cockney. Traces of this dynamic remain in the final film, notably in the scene where Gertie arrives at Cesare’s in her new gown and, responding to a compliment about the dress, starts to say “It is rather nice…” when she catches Tony’s eye and quickly corrects herself, “…er…divine, isn’t it?” (Fairchild: 64). 

This scene on the lake involved considerable strategic planning during filming. At the end of a one week period of location shooting in the south of France in June 1967, the production crew proceeded to London for the next stage of filming. Julie, however, flew back to Hollywood, ostensibly to start rehearsals for the big musical numbers, though there is some suggestion she needed to avoid entering the UK for tax purposes (Craig: 151; Land: 296). As a result, location shots on the lake at Regent’s Park had to be filmed using a double to stand in for Julie who sat in the boat with actor Michael Craig. London’s notoriously capricious weather added to the woes with the crew having to wait hours on the day of shooting till 5:00pm when “the sun burst forth long enough to permit the photographing of a brilliant scene”. All the while, “property master, Dennis Parrish, had to toss bread to ducks…to keep them within camera range ready when the time came” (Land: 334-35; also Heffernan: 30). This location footage was then intercut with later process shots of Julie and Michael Craig filmed in front of a blue-screen at Fox studios. Production accounts detail that studio filming for the scene occupied two full days on August 23 and 24 on Stage 21 (Edwards). Despite the work and effort, the dialogue component of the sequence was cut in its entirety and all that remained in the final release print is a few brief insert shots of Gertie and Tony in the rowboat.

                              ______________________________

Lost Scene 4: Gertie Gets a Make-Over

Screenplay Scene 63 (filmed 11-13 and 18 September 1967, Stage 16, 20th Century-Fox Studios) Continuing the Pygmalion theme from the previous cut scene, this sequence detailed Gertie’s ongoing social metamorphosis as Tony takes her to the salon of couturier, Julian Brooke-Taylor (Fairchild: 63-64). Of all the cut scenes, this one was possibly the longest with an estimated running time of several minutes.

Here Gertie is introduced to the grand world of haute couture and the even grander character of Julian Brooke-Taylor. Described in the screenplay as “[t]hin, fortyish…not a homosexual, but rather asexual, always appearing elegantly weary but in fact full of creative energy” (Fairchild: 63), Brooke-Taylor was played by Scottish-born character actor, Monty (Monte) Landis. Today, Landis is best remembered for his cavalcade of cameo villains in the cult TV series The Monkees (1968) but he had a long career as a comic actor in theatre and film in both the UK and the US. Prior to Star!, Landis had a string of minor but memorable character cameos in films such as The Mouse That Roared (1959), Charade (1963) and Double Trouble (1967), as well as several popular TV series of the era including The Girl from U.N.C.L.E. (1966), Get Smart (1967) and Batman (1967). The latter series was filmed at 20th Century Fox studios at more or less the same time as Star! which is possibly how Landis secured his brief role in the film. 

As detailed in the Fairchild screenplay (63-64) and Thomas novelization (50-51), the lengthy sequence starts with a mid-shot of Brooke-Taylor sitting on a Louis Quinze settee, “an expression of well-bred resignation on his face” (Fairchild: 63). As he spouts a humorously imperious monologue about being “the best couturier in London..many would say the whole of Europe”, the film cuts to a long shot of Gertie and Tony combing through hundreds of glamorous gowns in the gilt and marble salon, “dresses are everywhere –– in a large open wardrobe, draped on chairs and settees” (Fairchild: 63). Gertie picks up dress after dress, “considering it and then, as Tony shakes his head, rejecting it and adding it to the growing discard pile beside Julian” (ibid). All the while, Brooke-Taylor continues his waspish spiel:

“So who am I to complain, my dear Tony, when you invade my salon two hours after it is officially closed in order not to buy but merely to borrow. Please, please, do not for a moment imagine that you are imposing –– just feel completely free to treat me as you would any small, overworked dressmaker around the corner who runs up clever little numbers in her spare time after high tea…” (Fairchild: 63-64).

Finally, Tony finds the perfect dress –– the brilliant black and ruby beaded décolleté gown that Gertie wears to Cesare’s in the next scene. As he holds it up to Gertie, Brooke-Taylor stops mid-breath, “[h]is face lightens, [t]he artist in him beams whole-hearted approval and admiration,” “Ah!,” he purrs, “Yes!” (Fairchild: 64; Thomas: 51).

Other than highlighting Gertie’s continued social transformation, this scene also served to establish the context for Gertie’s subsequent employment as a salon model for Brooke-Taylor in the later fashion show sequence. Its omission from the final print of the film doesn’t cause a major logical inconsistency but it does weaken some of the backstory. From the way it is written, and given Landis’s theatrical comic style, one imagines that the scene would likely have had a ‘comic relief’ tenor not unlike that of the later fashion show where Cathleen Cordell provides such wonderfully humorous flourish as the affected salon vendeuse.  

It’s unclear why the Brooke-Taylor sequence was dropped in its entirety. Production accounts show that more than two full days were spent shooting material for it from 11-13 September 1967 on Stage 16 at Fox Studios, with the fashion show filmed immediately after on the same set from 13-14 September (Edwards). Further retakes were ordered for 18 September which possibly suggests that Wise was unhappy with aspects of the scene as originally filmed/played. Maybe he remained unhappy, maybe the sequence felt out of keeping with surrounding material, or maybe Wise just wanted to reduce an already overlong first half? Either way, the visit to Julian Brooke-Taylor was consigned to the cutting room floor.

Monte Landis, the actor playing Brooke-Taylor, had a bit of an unfortunate run in 1967. At about the same time he filmed his dropped cameo for Star!, Landis also appeared as part of the original line-up for the TV pilot of Rowan and Martin’s Laugh-In, but when the series was subsequently picked up by NBC for what would prove to be a six season run, Landis was let go and replaced by another British comedian (Erickson:108). There was some compensation for the actor when he secured his semi-recurring role as the resident villain in the second season of The Monkees (1968), which as suggested earlier remains his most famous work to this day. As detailed in his iMDB profile, Landis continued to secure intermittent TV work throughout the 70s with cameos in shows such as Hawaii Five-O (1971), Columbo (1971) and Police Woman (1973), as well as the odd big screen film like Myra Breckinridge (1970) and Young Frankenstein (1974). As late as the 80s and early 90s, Landis could still be seen popping up in the occasional episode of The Golden Girls (1987) or comedy film like Pee-wee’s Big Adventure (1985) and Heart Condition (1990).

In between these screen assignments, Landis seems to have done a good deal of live theatre. In an interesting “six degrees” moment, just a few months prior to his work on Star!, Landis appeared in a revival of Lady in the Dark at the Pasadena Playhouse –––– opposite Marni Nixon in the Gertrude Lawrence role, what’s more –– where he reportedly stopped the show with the comic “Tchaikovsky” number  (“Monty Landis Draws”: 35). Landis also found something of a second career as a spiritualist in the 1970s hosting a weekly programme on a Southern California radio station devoted to the occult (Martin: S8). This interest in all things spiritual must have continued as the last press mention we’ve been able to find about Landis reports that, in 2007, he had retired to Palm Springs where he was teaching Kabbalah (Salkin: E1). 

                              ______________________________

Lost Scene 5: Gertie at St James Palace

Screenplay Scene 69 (filmed 29 May 1967, Lotos Club, New York City; and 1 July 1967, Westminster School, London ) This brief scene was the third of the excised episodes depicting Gertie’s social metamorphosis courtesy of Sir Anthony Spencer. Immediately following the newsreel insert profiling Gertie’s embrace of “the fads and the fashions of crazy postwar England of the early 20′s” –– doing the Charleston, hot air ballooning, awarding the prize at an auto car race –– and her ascent to royal social circles, this scene showed Gertie and Tony arriving at St James Palace. Resplendent in a fur-trimmed gold brocade cape, Gertie enters the Palace on the arm of Sir Tony looking every inch the princess when, falling back into mock Cockney, she whispers: “D’you think his Royal Highness would mind if I loosened me stays? They’re killing me” (Fairchild: 71).

The scene was clearly designed to highlight Gertie’s triumph in her new “role” as “the glittering darling of society” while remaining true to her irreverent working-class spirit. This theme –– along with the whole Pygmalion-esque subtext –– is explicit in Bob Thomas’s novelization:

“Under Tony’s tutelage, the girl from Clapham was becoming a lady. The metamorphosis was not always easy. Sometimes in the middle of a formal dinner Gertie uttered a cockneyism that sent the table into a roar of laughter. But she always laughed with the other guests –– Gertie never pretended to be anything she wasn’t. And she always listened carefully to Tony’s coaching afterward. He would point out where she said the wrong thing or used the wrong fork. As in the theatre, she learned her cues quickly and never repeated an error” (Thomas: 56).

Like the earlier rowboat scene, this one required a strategic blend of location and studio shooting. The bulk of the interior was filmed with Julie and Michael Craig on 29 May 1967 at the Lotos Club in New York City. Craig was still appearing on Broadway at the time in Pinter’s The Homecoming and this shoot was his very first piece of work for Star!. Additional footage of Gertie and Tony arriving at St James was filmed a few weeks later on 1 July at the Westminster School in London with Craig and a double to stand in for Julie (Edwards).

                              ______________________________

Lost Scene 6: Cavalry to the Rescue

Screenplay Scene 86-88 (filmed 3 July 1967, Guards’ Parade, Whitehall, London) This bridging sequence occurred when Sir Anthony Spencer arrives to visit Gertie with his surprise proposal of marriage. Following a series of establishing shots of Tony riding with the Guards on ceremonial parade  –– shots which remain in the final release print of the film –– the original sequence continued to show Tony arriving at Gertie’s London mews house. He dismounts from his horse and passes the bridle to his personal equerry, Corporal of Horse Cooper (Max Faulkner). As he walks towards the rear of the house, still in full regalia “his accoutrements clanking”, Tony passes Gertie’s maid Mary (Barbara Ogilvie) who is carrying a tray of tea and sugar to the guardsmen. The camera stays on Mary as she goes to the guardsmen and chats amicably with Cooper, telling him to feed sugar to the horses “[t]hen you can have your tea” (Fairchild: 82).

Other than the opportunity to further showcase the colourful pomp of the Royal Life Guards –– which, as detailed in an earlier post, had been strategically selected by Wise for the visual impact of their uniforms –– this scene also helped underscore the established intimacy of Gertie and Tony’s relationship. That Gertie’s maid should greet Sir Tony and his Corporal by name and come out prepared with a tray of tea for the brigade indicates that this not-so clandestine morning visit to Gertie via her back door was a routine arrangement for the two lovers.

The actor who appears as Corporal Cooper, Max Faulkner had a long career as a character player and stuntman in British film and TV, possibly best remembered for his work on the cult TV show, Doctor Who. The cutting of the sequence meant that Faulkner lost what little dialogue he had in the film, though he can still be seen riding alongside Michael Craig in the opening shot and reacting to Tony’s sneeze. He can also be seen later in the film in reprise footage of the Life Guards on parade, immediately prior to Gertie and Tony’s visit to the Lord Chamberlain. In this scene, which was filmed on location at the same time as the earlier sequence, Faulkner’s character is front and centre on screen bellowing a series of commands to the mounted Guardsmen. In the original screenplay this establishing shot is followed by an additional brief dialogue scene where Gertie passes the Guards on her way into the Lord Chamberlain’s office and greets Cooper by name (Scene 118). “Good morning Miss Lawrence. Nice to see you back,” the corporal says (Fairchild: 123). When Noel shoots Gertie a questioning look, she explains, “Well, I have been to St James Palace before.”  “For heaven’s sake,” gasps Noel, “don’t mention that!” (Fairchild: 123). 

While Max Faulkner at least made it into the final release print of Star!, Barbara Ogilvie in the part of Mary was less fortunate. With the excision of the dialogue portion of Sir Tony’s arrival at Gertie’s house, her role disappeared completely. A native Londoner, Ogilvie carved out a solid career playing character parts on UK TV, including a regular stint in the mid-70s on the long-running soap opera, Emmerdale. Possibly due to production logistics or possibly to help denote the passage of time, Gertie is given a different maid later in the film, Dorothy who is played by Matilda Canan.

                              ______________________________

As stated at the outset, it is not difficult to understand why these various scenes were cut from Star! Their excision reduced an already over-long running time and arguably helped tighten pacing. Nevertheless, one can equally appreciate the intent behind these scenes and their role in furthering character and plot. 

One of the most common criticisms made of Star! is that its episodic revue format works against optimal narrative development and, with it, audience identification. Squeezed into brief segments between the film’s mammoth musical performances, Gertie’s life is rendered via a series of epigrammatic highlights with a surfeit of information and dazzle, but not a lot of emotional depth. As Richard Schickel (1968) writes in a characteristic example of this critical complaint:

“William Fairchild’s Star! script, ranging over a [long] period of Gertrude Lawrence’s career, deals in types rather than people, romances rather than loves. It is always at a documentary distance from its subject and her world. Maybe she was unknowable, in the full biographical sense, but we must have the illusion of knowledge, a sense of motives more subtle and complex than we receive” (10).

Moreover, the fact that Star! is a theatrical revue style musical where the numbers are staged as semi-realist replications of Gertie’s theatrical performances, and not as organic expressions of character and narrative as is the case in an integrated ‘book’ musical, means that whatever sense we get of Gertie and her story can only really come from the bridging moments in-between. As director Robert Wise reflected in later years:

“People often ask me why [Star!] didn’t work…It’s hard to find answers. Maybe [audiences] just weren’t prepared to like Julie in the kind of character Gertie Lawrence was. Maybe we spent too much time on musical numbers and didn’t spend enough time digging into her character, getting the kind of contact of the audience with what made her tick. With The Sound of Music, we certainly made contact with the audience in terms of the relationship between Maria and the children and the Captain. The audience knew where everybody was coming from basically” (Leeman, 195).

It’s doubtful that the excised material profiled here would have made much of an appreciable difference in this regard. Like applying a band-aid to a gaping wound, the film’s narrative deficiencies required more substantial revisions than the inclusion of a couple of minor book scenes. Still, these scenes do at least gesture towards expanded character development and suggest several lines that might have been profitably mined in a more carefully structured narrative treatment. 

Finally, it is not known if any of this edited material from Star! still exists. If it does, the chance of it seeing light of day is sadly remote. Cut footage from the Fox-Wise-Andrews megahit, The Sound of Music has never surfaced, suggesting a studio history of either outright junking or public embargo. Moreover, if the material were available, it would surely have been included as part of the comprehensively packaged laserdisc release that accompanied the film’s 25th anniversary in 1993. Still, hope springs eternal and maybe the ‘lost scenes of Star!’ will finally appear as part of that deluxe 50th Anniversary Blu-Ray release that we know just has to be round the corner!

Sources:

Betancourt, Manuel. “Robert Wise Centenary: Star! (1968).” The Film Experience. <http://thefilmexperience.net/blog/2014/9/9/robert-wise-centenary-star-1968.html>. 2014.

Craig, Michael. The Smallest Giant: An Actor’s Life. Sydney: Allen and Unwin, 2005.

Edwards, T.J. “The Saga of ‘Star!’”. Star! Special Edition LaserDisc. Beverley Hills, CA: Twentieth Century Fox Home Entertainment, 1993.

Erickson, Hal. ‘From Beautiful Downtown Burbank’: A Critical History of Rowan and Martin’s Laugh-In. Jefferson, NC: McFarland and Co, 2000.

Fairchild, William. Star! Screenplay. Final version. 25 January, 1967.

Heffernan, Harold. “Squeaky Sound Stage Troubles ‘Star’.” Philadelphia Daily News. 18 August 1967: 30.

Hoare, Philip. Oscar Wilde’s Last Stand: Decadence, Conspiracy, and the Most Outrageous Trial of the Century. New York: Arcade Publishing, 1997.

Holston, Kim R. Movie Roadshows: A History and Filmography of Reserved-Seat Limited Showing, 1911-1973. Jefferson, NC: McFarland and Co, 2013.

Kanfer, Stefan. “Cinema: Quarter Chance.” Time. 96: 4. 27 July 1970: 78.

Land, Kevin. “Recreating Four Decades of Modern History for Star!”. American Cinematographer. 50: 3, March 1969: 294-266, 332-336.

Leeman, Sergio. Robert Wise on His Films: From Editing Room to Director’s Chair. Los Angeles: Silman-James Press, 1995.

Martin, Bob. “TeleVues: They Have the Spirit, It Says.” Independent Press-Telegram. 5 August 1973: S8.

“Monty Landis Draws Many Laughs in ‘Lady’”. Independent Star News. 15 January 1967: 35.

Salkin, Judith. “Building One’s Character.” The Desert Sun. 18 November 2007: E1.

Schickel, Richard. “Two Stars: One Glowing One Dim.” Life. 65: 19. 8 November 1968: 19.

Thomas, Bob. Star! New York: Bantam, 1968.

Images: 

“70 mm cinema film strip” by Zigmej, CC BY-SA 3.0 [Adapted].

STAR!, 1968 [Laserdisc], R. Wise, Fox Video, 1993.

St Hilaire, Al. Photographic Contact Sheets for STAR! [Unpublished], 1967.

Twentieth Century Fox, STAR! Press Kit and Publicity Materials, 1968.

Special thanks to Hanne.

Copyright © Brett Farmer 2018

[yurtletheturtlehenderson]

COSMIC - S3:E1; Chapter One, Suzie, Do You Copy? - PREVIEW

A Will Byers x Reader Series

Summer brings new jobs and budding romance. But the mood shifts when Dustin's radio picks up a Russian broadcast, and Will senses something is wrong.

A/n: so I've had this part written for a while, most of it at least and it's just been sitting in my drafts while I work on other stuff. It's barely edited and most importantly I'm not sure if I'm happy with some aspects and mannerisms, like Will is kinda very OOC here towards the end so its likely to expect changes later. Also I'm a clueless asexual who has never kissed anyone so I did my best based off stuff I've read in books lmao✌ please spare me

Love yall and hope you enjoy this small preview!

||3rd Person POV||

The faint sound of crickets could barely be heard over the soft music of The Power of Love by Heuy Lewis and The News plays from inside Castle Byers. Soft yellow light spills out from the cracks and slits of the castle from the battery powered lamp where the young couple sat planning a campaign. It was clear that both had done a great deal of growing over the summer, just as their friends had. Will most of all, as he sat now in Castle Byers, he did so with the slightest of hunches seeing as he had sprouted tremendously in height. His shoulders had broadened a bit, and his voice had lowered as much has he had grown.

As for Y/n, the changes in her were more internal than external. Like Will, her physique had changed though not quite as drastically. Her features were far more defined than they had been in previous years, but the biggest change within her was how she held herself. The months since that dreadful night at the cabin, she had dedicated every spare moment to learning about herself... About her powers.

And now more than ever, she's was one with her abilities. With help from El, and the overwhelming support from Will, she exuded a whole new level of strength and confidence in herself. Something that set her apart from her previous attempts in secret the year before. Now with help, she thrived.

"The power of love is a curious thing

Make a one man weep, make another man sing"

"So what if, when they enter the tomb of Kuzatan - the villagers being in danger I'm sure would give them no way to cheat their way out - and then they..." her voice trails off, getting lost in the notes that seep into the air. She quirks a brow at the boy before her. "Will, hon? You listening?"

"Mmm?" Will hummed, torn suddenly from his blissful gaze.

Having been caught staring at Y/n, she realized he had missed the question. She laughed, shaking her head. Butterflies erupted in Will's stomach at the sound, and he realized he may never grow tired of it. He still couldn't believe his luck that she was dating him.

The corners of his lips tugged into a small grin as he mumbled a 'sorry'. Y/n simpered, trying to shake off the the dizziness in her head that always appeared when he made her heart flutter.

She returned to her notes, and he lovingly watched her speak. His eyes would occasionally fall to her lips but he was drawn back to her eyes and the concentration they possessed. All the while the sappy lyrics spilling their way into his subconscious as he listened.

"Don't need money, don't take fame

Don't need no credit card to ride this train"

Just two years ago, the thought of her liking him was a myth in his eyes. Her ever noticing him as more than a friend was a sickly sweet dream that would never see the light of day.

"It's strong and it's sudden and it's cruel sometimes"

And last year, with the Mind Flayer... He hated the thoughts he had, the feelings he felt when the Mind Flayer took over. The hate and disgust that crept up whenever she was around but he fought it. Though he could never forget the look on her face when the mind flayer spit at her.

"But it might just save your life

That's the power of love"

But now. They were happy. She saved him, and after his recovery, they were finally together.

"Will!" She laughed sharply, reaching over and swatting him lightly on the arm with her notebook.

Will was pulled from his daze yet again, no longer trying to hide the happiness and bliss he felt.

She smiled fondly and shook her head, placing her arm on his shoulder and pulled him in for a kiss. The music playing from the radio she had gifted to him a year before swelled as their lips met in a tender kiss.

"That's the power of love,"

After several moments their lips break apart but their foreheads remained glued together. A light laugh breaks out between them, escaping through the blinding grins carved into their faces. Her eyes travel from the ground to meet with his, only to find he had already been staring at her with the same love sick gaze. It brings the same storm of butterflies in her stomach and sporadic beating of her heart.

Neither Will or Y/n could recall a time either of them felt this happy.

Y/n's gaze flickers back to Will's lips. She flashes a warm grin and gives him one last and swift peck on the lips before sitting back up. She tucks her notes father into her lap and that is when she catches sight of the time displayed on her watch.

"Shit,"

Immediately, Will's mood shifts.

"What? What's wrong?"

Her eyes find his and she quirks a brow, her hands already collecting their campaign papers and stowing them away in safe place.

"We're late."

Out of reflex, Will checks his watch. His eyes widen in a brief flicker before gathering his things, though his movements are not as hasty as hers. He gathers his campaign papers, his eyes glazing over several notes he had made. The smallest bud of unease blooms in his stomach.

"You really think they'll like this campaign?" He asks, his gleeful composure fading for the first time since her visit.

The ache in his voice captures her attention, and quickly she drops what she's doing. She immediately recognizes the uncertainty in his features, and feels a tug on her heart. A sad smile graces her face, and she drops her folder before leaning forward and cupping his face in her palms forcing him to look at her. His wide hazel eyes search hers finding nothing but love and comfort in them.

"They're gonna love it, Will. Cause, it came from you. Remember, " she smirks when his smile begins to return. "I'm just helping out."

Before he can protest she brings his face forward with a small hum, planting a kiss on his nose with a dramatic smack of her lips. His face errupts into a violent shade of scarlet against his wishes. After all this time, Y/n still managed to have this effect on him. She begins to lean away when she knows she's cheered him up, but before she can escape he captures her in another sweet kiss. He can faintly make out the f/f slurpee that lingered from earlier that day. She hums contently and it blends perfectly with the drumming of his heart. He can feel his cheeks grow hot not just from his fluster but the feel of her palms growing warm against his skin.

Like Y/n's laugh, her warmth was something he was certain he would never tire of. It was something he had always seen in her, but after her powers had been discovered, it was only more obvious. Her touch always reminded him of the sun streaming in through the window on a chilly morning; a toasty blanket of light that hit your face just right. And he felt it now on his face as she kissed him. Although it was cut far too short in Will's opinion as she broke apart for air. Her thumb softly strokes his cheek, the pads of her fingers and palm still warm to the touch as sends him one more reassuring smile.

"And even if they don't," she continues, a spark of mischief in her eyes. "I'll blast 'em for ya."

Will chuckles, bringing his hand up to cup hers in thanks, nevermind the fact he didn't want her to let go quite yet. Alas, yet another moment lost to time. Her warm palms leave his face and immediately he feels colder, but he also knows they don't want to miss the movie. He smiles to himself as he packs up the remainder of his things as he thinks about it. His hands were almost always cold, a trait he had long before the Mind Flayer. And had it not been for her powers, Y/n might have been the same. It was yet another reason they fit so well together.

The crunch of a very small twig beneath Y/n's sneakers bring him back to reality for the third time. He looks up at Y/n to find her balanced on her tiptoes, legs folded ready to stand and she extends her palm for him to take.

"Come on, Sir Will," she says through coy smile, her head gesturing behind her towards the cloaked entrance to the castle. "The party awaits."

He brings himself to his knees to match her, ready to stand and duck outside into the night when he takes her hand. His thumb grazes her knuckles before planting a quick kiss on them, bringing a natural heat to her neck and face.

His face quickly contorts into a feigned expression of seriousness, all while dawning a fleeting and silly attitude as he waves his finger in the air. The way he always did as Will the Wise during campaigns.

"Then what are we waiting for, Y/C/N? Let us make haste!"

Will watches triumphantly as her lips press into a firm line that begins to twitch, the tell-tale signs she was fighting a losing battle with a grin as she shook her head. Y/n had yet to get used to this side of Will, though she did enjoy it. Since their time at the Snowball - their first kiss - he had been far more relaxed. To the point where he would be cracking jokes, or surprising her with romantic gestures as such. It rarely came out like this, and when it did it was never around the others. It was something she wished they could see, but Y/n couldn't help the flutter of her heart knowing she was the only one to bring it out in him. She looks down at his soft gaze and humor in his eyes, before rolling her own, rising to her feet and ducking out through the curtain door to avoid being caught with a smile.

"Dork," she laughs, her knuckles tingling from the unexpected gesture.

She hears his soft chuckles from behind her before he joins her side, and the couple falls into a comfortable silence as they grab their bikes of the forest floor and ride off into the night to the infamous Starcourt Mall.

+++

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[thepoeticmove]

I slept almost the entire plane ride, which was good. Plane food was probably worse than prison food. Having not eaten, though, I was starving once we got off the plane... and I forgot to call the credit card company to let them know I'd be out of country I'd found out once my limitless card was declined.

My phone wasn't working either. I needed to find a way to get my credit card working again. I stayed calm, even though I was panicking on the inside. I ended up just asking Jess for help.

"Can I borrow your phone?" I asked her.

"What? No!" She replied.

"I really need to borrow your phone," I insisted.

"Use your own phone," she snarled.

"No international service," I blankly stared at her. I had total RBF, and I could feel my expressionless face contorting into a clearly forced smile.

"Fine," she sighed, "one call."

"I will call the number on the back of my credit card," I said as I reached for her phone. She snatched it back away from me.

"You better not try anything funny," she snapped, "all of my banking apps are protected by a password."

"I'm not after your money," I assured as she reluctantly handed over her phone.

I called the credit card company to let them know I was working out of country. Just like that, my card worked again. I would buy a burner for my time in the United Kingdom. I didn't want to be a nuisance on Jess, so I got her number, and we went out separate ways.

"This sneaky bitch," I said to myself when I realized she lied to me by giving me a fake number. I was furious, livid even. She had the artifact, and I was stranded in a foreign country, so I went where I thought she'd be... she wasn't there. I searched and searched and realized I'd have to spend another fifty grand to find her. Her dominant sexual patterns would reveal her. I didn't take it she was hurting for money. It could be a while before she takes another dominatrix gig. But I had no choice. It was "wait here" or "wait there." So I went on vacation.

I'd never left the country until this trip, so I wanted to see the world. What else could I do? I had no weapons, no way to find specialized weapons, no right to buy weapons in this country, and no leads on any supes. Unless I met another hunter, I'd have no idea where to start in a foreign place.

I first visited the Sherlock Holmes museum. I was incredibly underwhelmed. After reading Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's books, I expected a lot more than a flat with a few Sherlock memorabilia. Surely, London had more to offer than kebabs and shit museums. I'd heard traveling alone was freeing, but it was not for me. Everything was so boring.

They say misery loves company, but I don't believe so. I believe misery thrives in loneliness.

Nearly a week had passed in London. I was starting to feel like Mistress Mayhem would never accept my bid for a night together, so I took a train to Edinburgh, Scotland.

I'd never been really into drugs. I avoided them for the most part, but I wasn't one to turn down a party, but my drug of choice was my liquor of choice: whiskey. I wasn't sure, but I think whiskey originated in Ireland. That would be my next stop after I determined the coffee shop Harry Potter was first created. Joanne Rowling may be a cunt, but she wrote a damn good series.

After muddling around Scotland for five days, Mistress Mayhem finally agreed to meet me for some "light BDSM." But she said her next available slot was nearly two weeks away. I guess, I would have time to test the Irish whiskey.

I was getting amazing pictures for my travel album. And I was racking up the country count. Two weeks, three countries. I also went to Isle of Man for two days.

Then I was in Dublin for my last three days. I toured the Jameson whiskey plant, then got hammered with a couple from Romania. They were from Transylvania and didn't have a clue about vampires, even though it was the hub for supes for a very long time. If anyone would know, it'd be them.

I was starting to give up on my search for a partner when I saw a gothic fellow with gauges, tattoos, and piercings across the bar. For whatever reason, woke people were usually gothic, so I took my shot.

"Are you a local?" I asked him.

"No," he shortly replied. It seemed like he didn't want to talk, but I pressed.

"Are you a hunter?" I quizzed.

"I'm a vegan, and I'm gender queer," they responded.

"I take it your pronouns are they and them," I replied, "I'm transgender. So we're on the same LGBTQ side. Do you believe in the supernatural?"

"I've seen a ghost before, but everyone believes it's hocus pocus. I believe there's more than just ghosts, but I have no clue how to prove it," they responded.

"I'm Sam, my mom calls me Sammy," I introduced myself.

"Rylan," they responded, "if you're wondering I was AMAB."

"Where are you from, Rylan?" I asked.

"What do you think my accent sounds like?" They laughed.

"You sound American, but you could just have a really good accent when speaking English."

"I'm Canadian," they replied, "a city near Toronto. You should come visit," they suggested.

"I actually had other plans for us. Have you ever used a gun before?" I quizzed.

"I don't hunt for sport," they sighed like I was losing them.

"Not animals... vamps and wolves!"

"Are you suggesting they're real?"

"They are!" I suggested, "I've killed one."

"That makes you a murderer."

"Murderer, savior, no difference," I joked. "Do you want to help me end the underworld or not? I'm linking up with one of the greats tomorrow in London, you should come."

"Okay, Sammy, I'll see what it's all about, but no promises that I stay around," they agreed.

The rest of the night, we got to know each other better. I learned a lot about them. They used to play baseball for the Pittsburgh Pirates for three years before they got tired of the toxic masculinity in the dressing rooms after they publicly announced their pronouns. They were a really interesting character, and like me, they were tall. Two LGBTQ people... becoming partners?

So far, both potential hunters were world class athletes. I was no schlup, but the furthest my sporting career went was varsity volleyball when I was still a male. I stopped playing sports all together when I came out, because I deemed sports to be masculine, and I wanted to separate myself from masculinity as much as possible to fortify my female-ness.

Rylan could easily drive a stake through a vampire's heart. We had no worries there. I wanted to train them with a supe killing gun, but there would be no way to get one until we could see my guy again in Nola.

That was the entire reason why I moved to Nola. I needed to be close to my guy. Some people thought he ran a novelty shop, but his weapons were legit. I broached the subject of killing supes one day, and he went on this long tangent that made me realize his main purpose was to expose supes to the unwoke world.

He was quite the character too. He was this balding, middle aged man. He was overweight, and he was in a wheelchair. His handicap didn't allow him to go into the field anymore, and I always wondered how he lost his leg. He wasn't really one to share, and I'd never press, because I needed him to at least tolerate me. In truth, I didn't know where I stood with him, and I was certain he'd like to keep it that way.

His name was Joel. He'd sold me everything a supernatural hunter would need, and he was basically an expert on supe culture. Most of what I knew was thanks to him.

Rylan and I slept together that night. We didn't have sex, just didn't want to separate from each other. Rylan was almost as tall as me... almost. I'd only met one female as tall as me. I dated her for a while. Her name was Jocelyn. She was a cool lady, but she wanted to pee in my mouth for sex. And I wasn't into it then.

Plagued by bad decisions, like chasing down the notorious Jess Rider, Rylan and I made our way to London the next morning.

We were waiting on Mistress Mayhem to arrive at our location when we started hearing howling. London wasn't known for real wolves, so it could only be one thing. We went out on the terrace to see Jess forcing a wolf to transform over and back, over and over.

Jess was up to something. The transition from man to beast was thought to be one of the most painful endeavors anyone ever had passed. And Jess was doing it to this poor wolf repeatedly.

"What's she doing to him?" Rylan asked me.

"She's torturing him," I said as I looked to the rooftops from our balcony.

"Why?" Rylan asked, "isn't that cruelty?"

"I don't know a lot about Mistress Mayhem," I informed, "before I met her, she was one of my biggest idols. Now, I'm not so sure."

"Should we try to stop her?" Rylan asked.

"No, we need her on our side. Lay low until she comes to us. I want my artifact back if she's not going to work with us. This is her territory, though," I huffed, "she's the one with all the weapons and whatnot."

We waited for our time with Mistress Mayhem. She was coming down the hall of our hotel. Rylan was scouting since Jess didn't know what they looked like.

Jess opened the door and said, "not you again," in an annoyed tone. Rylan came in behind her to make sure she couldn't run as we had planned. "What's this?" Jess quizzed. "You really think two gawky young adults can stop me?" She said as she pulled her weapons. "On the ground!"

Rylan looked to me, "listen to her," I said. We both got on the ground, then Jess Rider searched us for weapons.

"How many times do I need to tell you?" She tisked.

"You work alone," I sighed, "I know, but if you aren't going to work with us, you have to give the artifact back."

"I'll give you ten million pounds for it," Jess replied.

"I don't want money. I have plenty of money," I stated again, "I want leads, friendship, partnership and woke culture to spread. I'm tired of the government blaming bears for vampire attacks. People deserve to know what happens to most missing persons."

"I can't give you partnership, but I can give you leads," Jess bargained.

"That's good enough," I agreed.

Jess filled me in on everything she knew— it still wasn't enough to set up an operation in Europe— from where to find all the supes to what weapons worked best on what creatures. I would spend weeks stalking a rogue vamp Jess didn't have time to deal with, Rylan helped as well.

Two weeks ago, I never expected to stay in London, but Jess linked me up with her weapons specialist. She was this badass underground chick. She was covered with steampunk artwork. Her name was Lily, and like a flower, our relationship blossomed.

Lily was an interesting character. She seemed like the double agent type. I didn't trust her, but her tech was better than I'd ever had— flash grenades, light explosions, handguns, fully automatic weapons— she had just about all of it. All of her weapons were made with silver to paralyze the supes. I bought everything she had, she was very happy with me. It must've been tough to move silver bullets in the real world.

This of course meant I had to buy a jeep to transport everything. My parents were going to be so pissed when they got the bill.

Like Israel Keys, I set up kill stations to stash my weapons. I couldn't walk around a foreign country with fully automatic guns. I had to hide them where no one would look. But still somewhere I'd remember.

Our first kill as a team was inching forward each day. In a huge city like London, we couldn't be too safe.

[supergirlimaginesfic-blog]

Lena Luthor x reader (Preventative measures, and one welcome threat)

a/n: no one asked for this one either but... I’m gonna do the thing anyway just because, and I thought about how absolutely dumb it would be if you were this cool, unflappable bodyguard but you’d become profoundly useless the moment you saw Lena put her hair down or like, do something vaguely hot and you’d just... become totally non-functioning LOL

Anyway I’m a trash person and I have trash ideas so here’s the trash thing! It’s not all that serious, I wanted it to be all fun and giggles lmao. This is really indulgent and like, six different levels of unprofessional but then I realized THIS IS FIC WE CAN DO WHATEVER WE WANT Y’ALL!!! YAY!! it’s a little shorter and I think I can get away with making another part for it. Moreover though, I think Lena has had too many bouts with death and TBH I think she should just get a break dammit! Don’t we deserve better than that? Maybe we do... ;)

- - - - -

You would never really consider yourself a storyteller, but you’re beginning to understand that’s just what you’ve become. For all the questions people ask about your job, you have just as many anecdotes that for some reason, people find just absolutely fascinating.

Yours is a humble beginning - no, you didn’t always want to be a personal bodyguard. No, you didn’t go to school for it. Yes, like most things that have occurred in your life, opportunities presented themselves and you took the chance.

In fact, when you were five years old you were convinced you were going to be an astronaut when you grew up... or a dog-walker. You certainly did not think you’d be someone who was hired for the sole purpose of protecting vaguely important people you really had no idea about, nor could care to know about.

The job, you’ve realized in your own personal experiences, is a whole lot of rich people travelling around to gamble or to partake in other high-risk trade-offs, and still, you always think no one should have any right to carry around that much money, let alone own that much at all to warrant needing personal security in the form of another human being.

Still, it pays itself, and you couldn’t find yourself complaining heartily about the injustices of the wealthy elite and their various extravagances when you’ve made a comfortable life for yourself out of their paranoia.

As it was, you find yourself waking up at 5 in the morning for some ungodly reason you will never get used to - you know a good portion of your colleagues live for the thrill of going for a run in the early hours of the morning, rising before the sun and riding the high of productivity that a mere mortal civilian could never appreciate.

Perhaps, you think, that this logic made a mere mortal civilian out of you since you’ve pressed the snooze on your alarm five times and you’ve finally, but forcefully, shoved yourself out of your bed and onto your floor a good hour and a half later than you were ideally supposed to get up.

Still, even with your eternal vexation of having to be an early riser, you wake up significantly quicker than you think you would, and you give yourself credit for it everyday.

Your next assignment, you’ve been informed, is not necessarily a direct request - rather, you’ve been hired on behalf of someone else, which isn’t uncommon. You’ve yet to find out if your presence will be a surprise to your actual client in question, but that’s a problem for later, and that’s what your superiors are for.

You’re an armed bodyguard, and you’ll be working full-time which means you’ll be with your client for however long you’re required, and you’ll be sticking around them 24/7.

With your duffle bag already packed and your suits cleaned and pressed, you make your way into your Range Rover after you’ve made sure that your gun and your knife are both in their holsters hidden under your suit before you set off for the address that’s been sent to your phone.

For someone with rather impressive credentials and an even more eclectic resume of personalities you’ve been hired for, you’re still a little bit shocked when you discover yet another secret branch of the government - this time, you’ve been hired by an organization called the “DEO”, and you wonder just who exactly you’re supposed to be watching if every one of these agents is allegedly specially trained.

You’ve already been screened, processed, and vetted by the organization before they even considered hiring you through your company, who in their part were rather amenable to whatever the DEO wanted to do with you considering the hefty paycheck they were offering for your services.

Even still, you brandish your ID, your driver’s licence, and even your passport to the guards standing at the door, and watch as four guards examine your weapons, and two separate guards frisk your person for any other hidden contraband.

You take all your IDs out again for the people at the desk, and finally you’re escorted into a conference room lined with what you’re sure is a one-way mirror on all the walls where you’re sat across a tall black man with an inscrutable face.

He’s got your file on the table in front of him and he only glances down for a moment before he stares at you silently.

You stare back sitting perfectly still and relaxed in your chair and recognize the tactic for what it is. You don’t break eye contact with him as you wait for him to say something.

After what is seemingly a mildly uncomfortable amount of time to be silently staring at a stranger, the man speaks up and addresses you by name.

You nod your head in recognition and then he says, “Welcome to the DEO.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“I’m sure you understand, the entire process is lengthy but it is to ensure the utmost safety not just for our client but for yourself as well.”

“That’s understandable.”

“You may have also noted we’ve plenty of adequately trained agents here who would be more than qualified to do your job, but this is a matter of subtlety and we’ve thought it best to outsource a security detail rather than risk one of our agents for this particular duty.”

You nod again in acknowledgement - in its own variably twisted way, you’ve become used to being expendable, but that’s where the matter of you having to be good at your job comes in, so that you’re not expended.

After the brief conversation, if you would even call it that, the man stands up and approaches you with a hand outstretched, and you meet him halfway. He gives you a firm handshake and he passes a small, folded up piece of paper into your hand as he does so, and you ball your hand into a fist, not blinking at the exchange.

He sends you off and you realize you don’t know his name, but you suppose you don’t really need to know, and this time you don’t need to be escorted and you retrieve your belongings as you leave.

When you get back to your car, you unfold the paper and see just a singular thing written on it and you raise your eyebrows slightly at the sight. You rarely allow yourself personal opinions regarding your jobs, but you can’t help the anticipation and the wonder in your mind as you consider your new client.

You’re not exactly surprised, but your curiosity is getting the better of you gradually. You drive towards downtown with the tune of some Little Mix song stuck in your head for absolutely no definitive reason at all that you can think of apart from it just being a really damn catchy song, and you hum Black Magic quietly to yourself until you see the infamous “L” on your target building.

You grab your own files and make your way inside the building once you’ve parked in their lot, your eyes squinting minutely in scrutiny at the evident lack of security in the lobby, and the only person around to question you is a guard doubling as a receptionist.

You sign your name on the list and hand the guard your ID as she examines your signature before allowing you to go through, not at all bothering to check anything else of you.

You figure you have to go to the top floor, so you wait in the elevator as it takes you up. When you get out, you scan the floor quickly before you make your way toward the desk.

The secretary glances up at you and double-takes as if trying to determine your face. She furrows her eyebrows and you take the distraction to read the gold-plated name plate on her desk that says “Jessica”.

You look back to her and you watch as her eyes blatantly trail up and down your figure, not once but twice, and her expression is otherwise unreadable apart from the slight quirk of her eyebrow when her gaze lands back on your face.

She’s silent for a moment before she speaks up, “Ms. Luthor requires an appointment ahead of time, which is usually within a week or two depending on the urgency of the matter.”

You feel the scrutiny of her gaze again as her eyes trail over you again, and you clear your throat when you remember you’re supposed to say something.

“Right, of course. I guess it should be expected that my arrival is a bit of a surprise, sorry, here-” you say, as you reach for your business card, your official letter from your company, as well as your contract with redacted names of the DEO’s involvement and your ID.

You place them all onto her desk and she regards them with a look you know is pretty much universal of and who do you think you are exactly?, which is usually only ever present at the tail end of the sentiment that begs the question what nerve?

Her eyes never leave yours as she reaches for your papers, her eagle-eyed watch on you shifting with expressions of doubt and disbelief as she finally looks down and reads for a moment, taking note of the official stamps and signatures on your papers as she looks at your ID. Eventually, she puts it on her photocopier and waits.

“These mean nothing,” she says.

Despite yourself, you smile widely at the observation as she continues.

“These could all be fake, but at least I’ll have a copy of your alleged identity.”

You reply, still grinning, “I assure you, that’s the least of my intentions, but I commend your diligence.”

She squints her eyes at you and the printer continues humming, obtrusively loud given the near dead-silence of the room apart from the printer. You see her jaw tick and she tilts her head imperceptibly, you know this as a slight act of defense.

“I’m not paid to trust anyone.”

You almost laugh, catching yourself before you do, and you just smile at her show of tenacity.

“I guess you and I have that in common then,” is all you say.

For what it’s worth, you think this secretary, Jess, is more than enough to make up for the lack of security downstairs. If you were a weaker person, you knew you’d crumble under her interrogative stare.

She merely hums in dissent as the copying finally finishes and she hands back your original, not before demanding you to sign and date her copy of your ID.

“Don’t think you can just walk in here and pretend to be some third-party hire, I’m not stupid and Ms. Luthor certainly isn’t either - you’re not the only person with the lame, trite idea to do so,” she stares you down meaningfully and waits a moment to see that you’re still following.

She gestures vaguely to the space around her, “there are cameras in every nook and cranny of these offices you’re not aware of, and they will be used as proof to corroborate any shenanigans you think you can pull, and I will personally build a case against you myself if you think to try anything out of line here.”

She shoots a hardened stare at you and you just feel the unspoken don’t test me that pierces through you, and you really think you’re beginning to respect this secretary under all your amusement.

You nod your agreement and still try to assuage her aggression, but you know it might be for naught.

All she gives you is an unimpressed, “mhm,” before she’s picking up her phone and looks at you disinterestedly as if to convey that your abrupt interruption has inconvenienced an entire empire’s worth of productivity.

“Ms. Luthor, you have a guest just before your next meeting, I’ve deemed six minutes to be enough for this brief appointment,” she pauses, and then, “of course, Ms. Luthor.”

She hangs up and gives you the go ahead to walk into the office, but not before she sends you a final warning look and you nod in acknowledgement.

“Thank you,” you say when you collect your things and make your way to the door.

You knock before a muffled “come in” is heard from the office, and you wait a moment before you open the door and go through.

Lena Luthor sits at her desk and types momentarily before finishing up whatever it was she was doing and she looks up at you, smiling pleasantly as she stands.

You know you don’t show it, but your breath hitches just the slightest when you get a look of her face and her pale blue-green eyes take you in.

“To what do I owe this pleasure?” she asks you.

“The pleasure is mine, Ms. Luthor. My name is (Y/N), I’m not at liberty to disclose anything at this very moment, but I do have several documents you can read to inform yourself of your new arrangement, and after then we can discuss any questions you have, should there be any outstanding,” you say as you hand the file folder to her, taking your cue as she motions for you to sit in the chair across her desk.

She looks at the folder questioningly and glances back up at you, an expression of total confusion on her face which tells you enough of her knowledge of the real reason for your presence.

Apparently, all it’s taken for her is one glance at your company’s letterhead as well as the non-redacted version of the DEO’s contract for you before she sighs in recognition.

“I suppose this isn’t totally out of left field. I’ve insisted this isn’t required but it looks like they’ve deemed otherwise,” she says with a bit of a wry smile.

“I understand,” you say, and you do.

You don’t really know what it’d be like to have other people making decisions for you, and now that you think about it, it is just a little bit messed up when other people get involved and make you do things without your prior knowledge.

You think you feel for her a little bit then.

“Well, now that you’re here, I don’t intend on making this any more uncomfortable or unpleasant than it needs to be - this isn’t exactly my first song and dance. If we’re going to be around each other for as long as we will be, we can skip the formalities, if you’re okay with that, that is.”

“Of course, Ms. Luthor.”

She cocks her eyebrow and smiles expectantly, you blink and clear your throat when you have to snap yourself out of your little daze.

“Right... Lena.”

She regards you a moment longer than necessary and smiles again, softer this time, and remembers herself.

“Now, I suppose I should let my secretary know I’m still alive - though there is always that slim window of opportunity in which you severely harm me in the moment between now and when I walk towards my boardroom, but if you do spare me that, you’ll see I’ll be dealing with an equivalent small death in the form of an unsavoury businessman,” she tells you as she moves to collect her belongings and your file which she places at the bottom of her pile.

You smile at her admission, “I could be wrong, but it seems as though aggressive vigilance is a trait shared between you and your secretary.”

Still, you take a mental of the alleged businessman and you wonder if you have to step in at all, but you figure that’s not the type of tussle you need to get into.

You follow Lena as she walks through her door and she smiles at Jess as she passes by, Jess smiling back and instantaneously reverting to a neutral expression when her glance falls on you, and your mouth quirks slightly into a small smile.

She stops abruptly and you’re just several paces behind her when she sighs deeply, bracing herself for whatever this meeting holds and your day officially begins.

“Mr. Heaton,” Lena greets the man in the room.

“Lena,” he all but grunts back.

You take your place by the side of the door and you already feel mild irritation at the man.

You watch as Lena takes the man’s verbal pestering in stride and he’s practically hounding her, using poorly disguised intimidation tactics that you’re sure she can see through, and she continues to smile and correct the man when necessary.

Sometimes, and there are many instances, you’ve seen a threat of a challenge rise across Lena’s face, but it’s gone as quickly as you could spot it, and she merely leans further back into her chair which apparently only aggravates the man further.

You watch as he leers and begins to fall into taunts, downright refusing to entertain pleasantries as he presses harder and continues to push Lena’s buttons in some low blow attempt at undoing her.

You realize then just how differently the businessmen you’ve protected act around each other and how they act when they’re around a woman who is not only their equal but could in fact be a superior.

You can only watch in growing distaste as you watch Lena duck and dodge each thinly veiled accusation and every unsolicited comment, and you know very well your job doesn’t involve saving people from heckling in the form of business matters, but objectively, you wish you could knock this guy out into a sleep.

Still, you’re silent as you keep your post by the door, only able to watch the ordeal and you can only imagine how Lena must feel - she must be used to it by now, and somehow, the thought makes you more repugnant about the state of the world which really, is a bit of an impressive thing to do to you, as your being jaded of the current state of affairs leaves little room for surprise cynicism.

Before you can even contemplate the blatant injustices of corporatism and the workplace and society, Lena can probably detect your growing enmity radiating toward the other two occupants of the room and she cuts the meeting’s end, graciously thanking Mr. Heaton for his time and she will be in contact with him within the next month or so.

You watch as he gets up slowly, ogling Lena’s figure shamelessly and the tension gets heavier when neither refuse to extend a hand for a handshake.

He merely moves to leave after he’s done eyeing her, and then he looks at you, but you’ve already moved your gaze politely toward a spot on the wall ahead of you.

He moves in a way that will force your look, you pull your gaze to meet his and your jaw involuntarily clenches at the sight of him and his unwarranted arrogance.

You tilt your head slightly in challenge and in question, wordlessly beckoning him both to walk away but also to try something on you, just so you can feel some satisfaction of roughing him up just a little bit.

He opts for the smarter option and moves on without further fuss, and seemingly both you and Lena relax at his departure.

“Never again, please,” Lena says to no one in particular as she rubs at her temples.

She turns her chair to face you, and then she’s got her face in her hands as she inhales deeply. The rattling from your suit jacket makes her look up and you hold out a small migraine pill bottle to her and she smiles.

“Do you honestly carry that around everywhere or is that just for me?”

“Not necessarily, I could benefit from them too.”

She huffs a small laugh at your remark, “strange, I thought you were all supposed to be elite super-soldiers with no ailments, or without ties to the human condition.”

You smile easily, “that might be easier, but then that’d take away the basic human element of compassion, and I think that’s a pretty integral part they don’t teach you when you’re meant to be protecting people’s lives with your own.”

“You make it sound like it’s not about the money,” Lena says cheekily.

“Oh, don’t get me wrong, the money is so great,” you say as you smirk conspiratorially. “But it’s easy to get jaded and lose track of yourself and the big picture - the difference between me and a machine is that I choose to do this.”

“Don’t you ever think what you do isn’t worth it?” she asks.

“Often... more than I’d willingly admit. Majority of the time, my presence isn’t ‘worth it’ or really necessary. I’m usually just for peace of mind, and I think that’s well worth it to be safe than to err on the side of risk.”

She looks at you and is silent as she thinks of your observation, before she smiles again.

“Right, of course,” she says dubiously.

“And I mean, usually I’m hired by people to protect them or their things or whatever else you could think of. You start to see a pattern if you do this enough times, you get to see what really matters to people when they think they’re in danger.”

You pause, realizing you might be speaking just a little out of line, but you can’t really go back on it now.

“I think, in this case, if nothing else comes from me being around you, I think one thing you can take from this is that there are people out there who care a lot about you and want the best for you.”

Lena looks at you and searches your face, her expression significantly softer than you’d seen it throughout the entire meeting.

“And you’re saying you’re the best?” she finally asks jokingly.

“That would be your words, not mine,” you grin at the jest. “I can only try to be better than I am at this moment.”

She hums in consideration, smiles at you again.

“Alright, poet, how about we get through the rest of this day and you can tell me all of your ruminations of life after.”

Before you know it, she’s stood up and gathered her belongings, walking swiftly past you and you fall in step behind her.

The remainder of the day is spent with no more aggravations, the rest of her company and her tasks are much more agreeable than the one unruly man you unfortunately had to witness that morning.

Lena insists that you sit on the couch, or at the very least pull up a chair beside the door if you really ought to be right there, but you decline and instead opt to switch up your posts in a way that is still in a good proximity to the door and with your eye to her balcony.

You begin to get the idea that perhaps you’re making her a bit nervous, and you concede and feel guilty about distracting her when you glance towards her, but she’s still typing away steadily at her computer, occasionally pausing to write notes.

Sometimes, you catch her gaze, and sometimes she catches yours, and more and more often you’re both just glancing at each other and the day passes with the cyclical give and take.

Eventually, it’s time to go home, and you’re rather surprised the infamous CEO Lena Luthor is going home at a decent time, but you decide to keep your presumptions to yourself.

When you reach the parking lot, you look up at the sky under the guise of taking in the night, taking note that there is very minimal possibility of some aerial attack.

You look around the parking lot and feel mildly uneasy about the vastness of space where you can just see all the possibilities of an ambush and how they would pan out.

Still, it remains quiet and Lena walks wordlessly beside you, the light rhythmic tapping of her heels the only sound that you can distinguish.

You scan your surroundings only moving your eyes, using the most of your peripherals and not bothering to turn your head as you walk calmly to your SUV.

You raise a hand to gesture Lena to stop - you’re alone on this task, and you figure if something were to happen to your car at this moment, having Lena in such a close proximity is a bit of a moot point, but you figure at least you’ll have her in your sights.

You turn your back on her briefly, wanting to make this quick - you get to the ground swiftly and check under your car with a flashlight, searching for some telltale flashing or anything out of place behind your tires, in the rims, anywhere else something can be hidden.

You glance to see her heels still near you, and when you get up she looks at you with perplexity and vague amusement, but she thanks you nonetheless when you open the car door for her.

She gets into the backseat and you lock the door briefly - you know that the habit is a bit pedantic but you also know if there are people who are as equally skilled as you are, all they need is just a few seconds of opportunity for everything to go haywire.

Still content that you’re alone in the lot, you unlock your car again and get in quickly, locking the door again and turning on the ignition in one fluid motion before you’re driving away from the lot.

Seemingly instinctively, you start humming to yourself again, and it’s still the same song you’ve had stuck in your head all day and you wonder if you’ll go to sleep with that as your final thought.

You drive around several blocks to see if anyone could be following you, but when you’re satisfied that no one is going to spontaneously tail you, Lena finally fills the silence.

“You’re not lost, are you?”

“No, I’ve memorized several different routes to take in varying emergencies, and I have a few back up plans for several worst case scenarios.”

“There can be more than one worst cast scenario?” Lena asks.

You take a very brief moment to glance in the rearview mirror at Lena and give her a small, tight-lipped smile. You look away again and scan the streets and the sidewalks, looking for something you might not find - and you hope you wouldn’t.

“Have you ever had to kill someone?”

You smile and shake your head. Her small talk really gets straight to the point, but you entertain her.

“No, I haven’t. I’ve drawn my weapon a handful of times though, can count the instances on one hand. That’s like the last thing you should do, and shoot only when our lives are in immediate danger.”

Lena hums, and then, “that must be quite scary for you. I don’t know how you’d deal with that.”

Involuntarily, you recall the ordeal with Lena and the Venture explosion, and the whole debacle of her brother’s attempts on her life and how she’d shot an assassin in a police uniform.

You look up into the mirror and see her gaze fixed outside her window.

“Well, you do what you have to do to survive. It’s not just self-preservation, it’s going against every instinct of your being that’s telling you to be fearful and to be at the mercy of your peril. Surviving against the odds means having to be your own hero in your most dire moment.”

Lena’s quiet for a moment, and you start to wonder if you’ve said too much.

“Is that how you manage your feelings with your job?”

“I just convince myself the money is worth it,” you say jokingly.

“I don’t believe you do it because of that though,” Lena says, and you glance into the mirror again and catch her gaze.

“You may think you do it because of the money, and you think your mask of selfishness can safeguard you, but personally, I think what you do is one of the most selfless acts of service.”

You’re quiet for a moment and you ponder Lena’s remarks. You appreciate it, and you understand it, but you don’t want to admit what it might really be - you haven’t wanted to admit it aloud for a long while.

“Or it’s just the reckless disregard of my life,” you mutter softly.

You don’t think Lena’s heard you when she says nothing, and it’s quiet for another moment before she speaks again.

“Whatever it is, you still do it because you choose to and not because you’ve been programmed to. The difference between you and a machine is that you can fathom gratitude, and the reward, and the risk and consequence of doing what you do. However way you twist it, that seems like the markings of a hero, don’t you think?”

You continue driving, your eyes still scanning your surroundings and even without the distraction of vigilance, you don’t think you have anything of substance to reply to Lena.

There’s a lull in the conversation and you hum the song that’s been stuck in your head all day, the steady rise and fall of your chest as you breathe putting you in a calm state of mind - you’re close to Lena’s loft.

“I didn’t take you for a Little Mix fan,” she says suddenly, and you’re overcome with the sudden, overwhelming desire to punch yourself in the face for how instantly you blush at her comment.

“I didn’t take you for one to recognize a song,” you retort, hoping you don’t sound too defensive.

You don’t need to look up in the mirror to hear Lena’s smile when she replies.

“Not me, no. It’s my friend, Kara. She has such an affinity for pop music and boy bands and girl groups.”

You huff in laughter and clear your throat, more than relieved to be pulling up to the private parking entrance below the building.

When you park in the lot she points out, you do your routine of getting out first and locking the door, checking around you, and unlocking the door and letting Lena out when your evaluation of the place is to your standards, and she thanks you again as she gets out.

She leads the way as you get into an elevator that will take her directly to the loft level, and you wait with your suits and your duffle bag in hand.

When she stands in front of her door with her key in hand, she waits expectantly and with great humour, watches as you acknowledge her silently.

You put the hangers for your suits in your mouth and bite down to hold them, your duffle bag hangs on your shoulder as you brace with your one hand hovering just near your concealed gun and the other in the ready position for an attack.

You look ridiculous, refusing to let her carry any of your belongings, and when she unlocks the door, you make quick work of going through without busting her door and you inspect the immediate area because you just never know.

You can’t ever get out of work mode, but Lena practically forces you to be casual when she walks past you with a smirk on her face and moves to take her coat off and shuck her heels off in one motion.

You decide it’s finally time to stop looking dumb and you take the hangers from your mouth. You look around the loft most definitely by virtue of having to know the space well and not at all to take in whatever personal stories you can parse from Lena’s home.

Lena’s voice comes from somewhere down the hall, “I wasn’t expecting a sleepover tonight, you can go ahead and order whatever food you’d like, I’ll foot all the expenses.”

You feel yourself flush again and you wonder if it was just absolutely necessary for her to word it like that, but you still linger around the space and wait for something to do.

“You’re like a vampire, aren’t you? Am I to invite you to do everything? You can put your belongings away, you know,” she says as her head pops up from around the corner, her eyes teasing as she watches.

“Of course,” you say, but you still don’t move.

You’re quickly becoming aware of how really useless you are not only when pretty girls are concerned, but when pretty girls are concerned and you’re meant to be around them in a job setting, but the entirety of you is wishing for circumstances that were anything but a job setting.

You ought to reel yourself back in; you know quite well how your superiors would react if they caught wind of your current misgivings.

You stand up straighter and fix yourself in an attempt to snap out of whatever inappropriate reverie you’re in, and you’re still standing awkwardly near the front door when you see Lena again in sleeping shorts and a loosely hanging shirt.

She looks at you quizzically when she sees your stare, an amalgamation of question and realization when she seems to figure out your expression.

“Darling, don’t tell me you thought I slept in business attire?” she says teasingly.

You’re slowly losing most of your senses and you’re reeling at her term of endearment, and you don’t even realize she’s come up to you until she’s just under your gaze - she’s a bit shorter now without her high heels.

“Not all of us sleep in our formal suits,” she says as she pats you on your chest. Your eyes widen even more and you don’t realize you’re holding your breath until she saunters away, smirking at your apparent uselessness.

“And please at least set your things down, you’re making me nervous just standing there for as long as you have.”

Finally, you concede and you find the least intrusive place to put your duffle bag and your suits. Lena gives you a slightly admonishing look when you let your suits crinkle on their place in a chair, and she takes them wordlessly and hangs them in her coat closet and eyes you meaningfully to make sure you don’t take them back.

After a round of polite, but suspiciously playful bickering about delivery choices that feels too familiarly domestic, Lena’s finally convinced you to sit on her sofa and you’re eating pizza on the farthest end of the couch as she looks on at you amused between commercial breaks of whatever TV show she’s left on.

She’s allowed herself one glass of wine tonight, to which you’ve adamantly declined for yourself and she doesn’t give too much of an argument.

At some point in the night, Lena’s fallen asleep curled up on the couch and you saw the progression of it but still didn’t say anything. Now, you can’t exactly suggest for her to transfer to her bed, and you most definitely will not carry her there, but you contemplate the pros and cons and even you know rather well how inconvenient a sore neck is from an uncomfortable sleeping position.

You’re a coward, however, and instead of waking up a peaceful slumbering woman you opt to just take the blanket that’s draped over the couch behind you and put it onto her sleeping form, and you suppose it’s safe enough to just stand up to get her a glass of water.

When you come back with the water and have shut off the rest of the lights in her loft, she’s murmuring in her sleep and breathing slightly erratically.

You merely watch and wait for it to subside, but she only gets louder and more distressed, and you realize she’s having some sort of bad dream and you move to rouse her from it when she wakes fully and sits up roughly to get her bearings.

Her breaths come fragmented and hollow when she looks around her, and she startles before realizing who you are and you suspect that your hovering presence is probably not the most comforting sight in a dark room after having a nightmare.

“Sorry,” you murmur quietly, “I was just getting you water, I guess you were having a bad dream.”

Lena just rubs a hand over her face, and you can see the exhaustion in her eyes illuminated by the TV light. You hand her the glass without another word as you take your place beside her.

She thanks you softly before setting it on the coffee table after she’s taken a sip.

She moves to lay down on the couch again and you’re just a little late in remembering to use your voice, but you think you know better than to appeal to a sleepy woman and you just let her fall asleep beside you.

You’ve left your gun and knife stuffed into your side of the sofa in between the cushion and the couch.

You took off your jacket and dress shirt some time in the evening and it left you in a white tank top. You know better than to sleep in your suit pants, but you just can’t bring yourself to change into something else - not when you’re fine as you are anyway and it’s not totally imperative to sleep in something comfortable.

You suppose you’re not going to do much sleeping anyway, which is a bit of a bad idea especially on your second day of the job, but there’s a plethora of reasons why you can’t sleep and these reasons will keep you up for an undetermined amount of time.

Eventually, somewhere between 4am and 5am you suspect, you finally fall asleep sitting up with your arms crossed and your head leaning back against the couch.

At 6am, you open your eyes just briefly to find Lena’s changed positions in the night and her head is pressed up against your leg, and you grin sleepily as you fall back to sleep.

About an hour or so later, you wake up to some commotion and your eyes snap open, you stand up quickly and realize that was probably not the best thing to do the very first thing in the morning.

Lena’s gone, but you smell something coming from the kitchen and you turn around and see her working around the space, coffee and a plate of food in hand and she finally notices your figure.

“I suppose one con of working for me is having to get up when I do,” she says in jest.

“There’s coffee, I don’t think I’m complaining,” you say hoarsely, your voice still rough with sleep.

You watch as she works easily, her hair tied up in a messy bun and her shirt just a little lopsided as it hangs off a shoulder. You know you’re staring, but you’re waiting for her to tell you to come over and sit.

She feels your gaze on her and smirks when she looks up, raising her eyebrows slightly in expectation as she tilts her head to beckon you to get over here.

You decide you’re a little bit too sleep deprived to deal with whatever hold Lena’s apparently got on you, and the whole point of you is to make sure nothing surprises you, but this is a fight you’re willing to concede.

You sit down tentatively and she smiles, her gaze lingering on you unabashedly and she nudges a cup of coffee to you.

You regard her soft, pale eyes trailing over you. You’re captivated by how objectively beautiful she looks, a total juxtaposition of the sharp, cultivated lines of power and grace you’ve seen of her business look.

You can merely sit there wordlessly and watch her taking you in.

“How do you like it?”

“What?” your eyes widen and you try to ignore the blush that’s rushing to your face - somehow, you’ve successfully managed to trip over one simple word.

Lena smiles widely, an eyebrow raised in what you realize is a look you’ve seen too often and one that could very well cause trouble for you.

“Your coffee, how do you like it?” she elaborates.

You blink owlishly at her and then your eyes snap down at the cup.

“Right, uh, just two cream one sugar.”

Lena still hovers near you, leaning closer as she reaches for the cream and sugar containers and your eyes widen again with bated breath.

You know for certain Lena’s aware of your inner turmoil, what with her hyper-focused attentiveness on you, and you thank her feebly as you take a drink and try to make you burning your tongue on it look gracefully intentional.

You’re a mess and you both know that.

“Are you ready for another day with me?” she asks innocently enough when she’s finally sat down near you.

No, this is more difficult than I’d thought, and for entirely different reasons, you think.

“Of course, hopefully it’s as smooth sailing as yesterday,” you manage to say.

You think you should pat yourself on the back for your great effort of composure, and you’ve got this. You’re finally getting back into the swing of things and doing your job like you were meant to.

Just then, Lena winks at you and smiles behind her coffee cup, and the crashing revelation of you don’t got this comes falling all at once and you inhale sharply at her teasing.

You smile back - perhaps it’s more of a grimace, in reassurance and Lena’s eyes dance with mirth.

She picks up a piece of french toast with her fork and you demand your entire body to ignore the elegant fluidity of her motion - however, that requires physically moving your entire self away which is more work than you care to do at this time of the morning, so you concede to watch, fixated and entranced.

You have to tear your eyes away when your gaze lands on her lips. Frankly, you’re quite impressed by how close you are to falling off your chair even when you’ve been completely still, but it’s when her tongue comes out and licks the maple syrup from her lips that makes you feel like the entire Earth is shaking.

You understand, then, that you have only two options to deal with this arrangement, and it goes as such: you can make things difficult for yourself and deny every blatant reaction you feel to literally anything Lena does, or you can go along for the ride and fight worthier battles.

You concede to the latter and watch as Lena still misses the drip of syrup that’s fallen a little below her lip, and you wordlessly get a napkin and reach over to her slowly, her eyes widening imperceptibly as she watches you approach.

You bring your hand close to her mouth and linger, making eye contact with her and grinning slightly before you wipe the errant syrup away.

Lena looks at you, her jaw slightly slack, as you lean back and continue to work through your breakfast, smirking at your own apparent hold on her, and you really wonder just how much more interesting this job will get.

[stunudo]

Teamwork Makes the Dream Work:

A Criminal Minds Fan-fiction Case 1 Part C

Featuring: Female Reader as she joins the Team

Setting: Early Season 12

Parts A B

A/N: This is a piece about how someone with some quirks fits into the BAU. I realized I haven’t tagged anyone in this fic yet, so you might want to go back if you want the really awkward stuff. xoxo Stu

Your name: submit What is this?

“Garcia, please tell me these people don’t think I am psychotic!” You had broken down after you had gotten into your hotel room. There was spotty wifi and scratchy comforters, but you got your own room, thank Turing.

Penelope was still cranking away with all the work the team constantly sent her. Reid should put his brain to use and find a way to clone the woman already. “Y/L/N, no one thinks you’re psychotic. Though I did hear something about high anxiety and possibly PTSD?” Her voice lifted as she was trying to rush through the gossip, but also needed to be honest with you.

“Ugh, I just don’t like being touched. I almost elbowed Alvez in the face and now I have some tragic backstory, aces.” You mumbled.

“Don’t worry, as long as you don’t actually hit anyone? I am thinking they will forget it after the case. First day jitters and what have you. But, well, JJ thinks you’re good though.”  You were pacing the room, wearing your extra large Galifrey Academy tee shirt and some socks. Your hair was wet and you were debating between Hearthstone or Peggle before lights out.

“Jareau likes me?” You were surprised. “Huh, guess I don’t give myself enough credit. Alright, thanks for listening to me Garcia, feel free to ignore me at any point.”

“My newest comrade-ette, no. I am here for the whole team. Well, minus the other newbie.”

“Nighters Garcia!”

The small town cop had pulled over a pick up going 62 in a 45 mile per hour zone. He was pissed that these people couldn’t get it through their heads that the law was the law. It wasn’t even seven in the morning, where did they need to be in such a hurry? He sauntered up to the driver’s side eyeing the man in the side view mirror. When the officer was level with the window, he saw the girl’s face pinned in fear. The driver had a knife to her throat and a rag tied around her mouth.

The officer instinctively pulled his gun. “You drop your weapon!”

The man in the driver’s seat laughed and popped the door on the cop. Knocking him back in to the traffic on the two lane highway. The young woman screamed into her gag. The driver couldn’t react fast enough, the policeman was roadkill. As she slammed onto her breaks, the pickup did a U turn and left the traffic stop like nothing had happened.

You were waiting for the team at the SUVs when Hotch called you. “Why didn’t you answer your wake up call?”

“Sir? I am no longer in my room. I have been up for an hour.”

“Right. I guess I will see you at the cars.”

“Yep.” Anxious bird may not be getting the worms, but at least you hadn’t overslept. Rossi was surprisingly the first one outside. He nodded at you, you waved sheepishly back. Once Hotch was outside, it was all business.

“We have a call from a sheriff in Shawano County. Apparently an officer was pushed into traffic during a speeding ticket. The driver that struck the officer says he had his gun drawn and was pointing it at the driver and passenger. The dash cam footage is silent, but there was clearly a female restrained by the assailant.”

“Any indicators it was Abigail Brown?” Lewis asked.

“Nothing certain.”

“I am assuming Garcia is already tracking the plate?” You followed up.

“He probably already changed vehicles.” Alvez pointed out.

“The unsub would have to search for another vehicle out here. Especially with a victim to control. Chances are someone spotted them or the ditched truck.” JJ added.

“Reid I want you and Alvez to head south, talk to the driver and see what you can get from the footage they have.”

“Y/L/N, Lewis and Rossi I want you back at the precinct in case Garcia finds something.”

“JJ and I will head up to the campus and meet with the roommate.”

The car ride was much more reserved than the one with Jareau and Reid. Rossi drove, playing generic elevator music in the background. Lewis asked about his car. Rossi asked about hers. The drive was only about forty minutes of you listening and not speaking.

The evidence boards were intense and necessary. After examining the autopsy photographs you noticed weird marking on each of the bodies. One of the women had a tattoo so it hid the reoccurring image. It appeared to be a brand of some sort.

“Jareau?” You had dialed without sharing with Lewis and Rossi, but they were listening anyway. “I think these are rituals. There is the same symbol on each of the bodies.”

“Alright, I will tell Hotch. Nice catch.” She answered and hung up.

Rossi was on his phone once he understood your discovery. “Garcia, I am sending an image, see if it belongs to a cult or religious sect.”

Lewis pursed her lips while glancing at the photographs. “If this is ritualistic, then we have to be prepared for anything.”

“Suicide by cop?”

“Worse, martyrdom.”

Hotch put the whole team on the line for an update. “Abigail Brown’s roommate confirmed she had been involved in some new activities. But she didn’t know anything about it being a cult.”

“Sir?” Garcia interjected. “It was definitely a cult. The symbol is ancient, but surprise surprise it has been “re-branded” for the internet age. The screen name loops back over many servers, but the credit card for the chat service used for the “Night Owls” site lands us right back to Langlade County. And not many people have internet service there, it is too expensive to install the fiber-optics.”

“Garcia tell me you have an address.”

“Sending it to your phones.” Garcia confirmed. “Please be safe!”

“Alright, everyone head back to the hotel. We are all going in together. I will have JJ coordinate with the locals as we drive back.”

The drive down the dirt road was a horror movie in action. You had been assigned to Reid and Alvez’s SUV. The Sheriff that had called the team onto the case was driving Rossi and JJ because he knew the area. Hotch and Lewis were in the last vehicle, trailing three squad cars.

Reid was going over building records that Garcia had sent. “It appears to be a large house with a garage and two other out buildings.”

“Plenty of room for an ambush, great.” You muttered.

“We’ll be fine, just focus on getting the victims out and we will handle the rest.” Alvez explained.

“I hope you’re talking to Reid, because I am not on damsel duty here, Alvez.”

Alvez and Dr. Reid exchanged a look. The taller man shrugged, his lips doing that motion from the first trip. Was it annoyance or was it amusement?

“Noted!” Alvez chuckled. “Hotch will give the actual assignments once we park anyway.”

The large green space was surrounded by miles of forest and marshland. If one of the captives had managed to escape you doubted they would have survived without some help. The space around the buildings was hilly and strewn with pine trees. You thanked Babbage that it was still daylight, you strapped on your standard issued vest and felt like a jock for the first time, ever.

“Do we huddle and get a pep talk, too?” You mused to yourself, but Rossi heard you.

“Not usually, but I think it’s because Morgan was the one with the whistle.” He hinted. Your head tilted with interest, but Jareau shook her head meaning ‘wrong time and place, children.’

You followed Alvez to the main house. Reid and Lewis took one of the out buildings. Jareau and Rossi took the garage. Hotch and the Sheriff took the building on the farthest end of the clearing. The infiltration began simultaneously. Doors flying open and calls of “FBI!” or “Federal Agents”.

The house was a bungalow style with a ‘Silence of the Lambs’ style stone basement, luckily it did not come with the signature hole dug below. The rooms were well kept, but abandoned. After clearing all the rooms, you followed onto the garage. Alvez kicked the fender of a pick up truck, “This is the truck from the dash cam footage.”

You nodded, “You see Jareau or Rossi?”.

“Here!” Jareau’s voice called from the back of the unlit room. There were tables of Bunsen beakers, torches, and distilling equipment. “No sign of the unsubs, but I think we can say that it was Abigail Brown in the truck this morning.”

Rossi mused, “I am guessing the chemistry set is how these guys are funding their little ‘family’.”

The four of you dispersed to the remaining buildings when shots broke out. You readied your weapon, moving to secure an entrance. The buildings were identical from the outside. Carmel brick work with obscured glass block windows. Entrances on the northern and southern walls only. Suddenly you heard someone scream, “Go!”

Recalling your training: you kicked in your door, “FBI!” The room was arranged like a classroom, with desks in rows and some computers lining the far wall. Alvez came in the other side, sweeping the area for the unsubs or victims or any movement at all. The server they had set up was pretty sick, but you held yourself back from drooling. “We’re clear, Alvez.”

“Alright, we need to keep moving. Catch up with the team.”

You closed your door behind you and followed the muscular man out the door he entered. When you stepped outside it was chaos. Reid was limping outside with a young woman under his arm. JJ was holding the door screaming, “Out! Everybody out!”

There was smoke wafting out the door and Hotch and Lewis carried the Sheriff out between their strong shoulders. There was a moment of panic when Rossi wasn’t accounted for, but finally he staggered outside with the rest of the team. In his arms was a three year old girl, screaming at the top of her lungs. “Daddy! Daddy! No!”

Your heart tore, this little thing was the unsub’s daughter. Once the door swung shut a group of thuds rolled through the brick building. Was that an explosion? It must have been a poorly executed one. Hotch was on the comms with the locals, calling medics. You regrouped, checking on each team member and confirming the victims had been secured.

You took a minute to calm down from your first big case against the house. You were watching Reid, JJ and Alvez smile and play with the toddler.  Rossi and Hotch were having serious conversations for serious grown ups. Lewis was taking notes while talking with Abigail Brown. Suddenly a hand came up and clamped down on your mouth. Instinctively you dodged and spun out from the attack. You kicked the unsub’s knee in and pulled your firearm. “Hands! Hands in the Air, Asshole!”

The BAU was there in a fraction of a minute, six guns trained on the second unsub. “Dey found you Un-Craig, dey found you!” The little girl sing-songed from behind the row of agents. She giggled at the apparent game. You holstered your weapon and made the arrest. After loading the unsub into the back of the squad car, you turned and looked at the crime scene.

It was a good day: your team saved some people and neutralized some big bads. “Hey Jareau, you think that little girl will be all right?”

Her big blue eyes searched you and nodded. “Yeah, they will find her a good family. Little one like that is already so tough.” You accepted the answer, though more questions flitted through your mind.

“Hey, Y/L/N?” Jareau asked. “It’s J.J. My friends call me J.J.”

@dontshootmespence @penelope-garxia @reiding-and-writing @milkandcookies528 @criminal-minds-fanfiction @rachficrecs @reidbyers @holagubler @speedreiding

[lalaloverss]

Heroes with broken bonds

| Chapter 2|

It’s been awhile since I posted an update so here is chapter two enjoy!

Chapter 2: The Villains have arrived

"Just so everyone knows and is safe, the captured teens are being secured in rooms that will make their quirk not work, their weakness if you will" A specialist said, as they walked the group of Pro heroes into the detention center. The pros nodded and talked amongst themselves as they reached the elevator, walking in the conversations stopped.

"Why are we in an elevator?" Midnight asked.

"Well you see as they are being held, we wanted them to be separated from everyone else. We wanted to take extra precautions with them, as we don't know if they'd attack" they replied.

"But didn't they surrender? Why would they attack if they wanted help?" Angel asked.

"Well you see, we can never be too sure if this is an attack or a trap. That what they want could be different from our promises" they replied.

"That is why I think they should stay here and not get involved with U.A, and the rest of the heroes in training" Aizawa said.

The group was silent for the remainder of the elevator ride, when they walked out they were met with a dark ominous aura, the hallway was dim a few guards stationed here guarding doors.

"The first floor is called ground Omega, it consists of the ten females, each one had been evaluated and examined by someone who has a mind reading quirk, no torture what so ever" they said. They walked them into the small entry way before entering the hall and buzzed themselves in. They walked the group to the first room, it was a glass like case with one metal door, in the small room besides the girl that occupied it was a small bed and a small toilet. They specialist buzzed the light on and there she was, she was a petite dark skinned girl with long curly black hair.

"This is Marks, Kiran, Born July 8th, 2003. She was a lost child, kidnapped and never found until- Actually All Might you might want to talk to her, she had a special connection to the mastermind you took down" They said. Everyone turned to look at the symbol of peace who was confused but then it hit him like bricks, he walked into the cell with his ever so famous smile.

"Hello Young Marks! I am All Might!" He announced as he walked through the threshold, his smile faded as he looked at the girl, beaten and bruised.

"I know who you are, Father and Brother talked about your downfall a lot, I just didn't care" she said.

"Father and brother?" He asked, "Oh you mean All for one and Shigaraki? Why are they your family surely you have some real family around".

Kiran shrugged "Well honestly I was kidnapped and sold into child slavery but All for One stopped it and rescued me, he then raised me as his own. I just wouldn't do anything until Shigaraki came along then I was threatened and beat until I did as told" she answered, which wasn't a complete lie just not all the truth.

"Young Marks, if I may ask are these bruise and cuts from the threats" All Might asked.

"No, believe it or not they are from here. While I was being held against my will there, it was always an empty threat, they never acted on it. Once I came here in hopes of starting over they promised to safe us but they only beat us and took samples of our blood, saying it's for research but we all know what that means" she answered.

All Might didn't like this and he stormed out of the room, walking up to the specialist and slamming them into the wall.

"You think this is funny? It's a game? People's lives are at stake here and you want to beat and torture them?!" He yelled.

"All Might calm down, no need to get violent" they said.

"Release it now and show everyone the truth" he growled.

All might dropped the specialist to the ground and with a snap of their fingers the illusion they created was gone, looking around you could see people strapped to tables, tubes of random substances going in and out of their bodies. The once empty halls were filled with agonizing screams of pain, the doctors and specialists continued to watch as these people felt the pain they didn't deserve.

"What the F-" Angel started but just couldn't finish her sentence, the looks of pain and horror crossed the Pro's faces.

"I demand to speak to the one in charge now!" Principal Nezu demands.

"I take back what I said about leaving them here, this is not what I pictured or hoped would happen to them" Aizawa said.

"Awh Eraser I knew you had a soft spot wait until I tell Mic" Midnight teased.

"You will do nothing of the sorts" he countered.

"I feel so bad for them, when can they get released? We haven't even seen the Males yet" Angel said.

"Well well will just have to hope that it is not worse then what we see here, I do not know when we will bring to their new homes but I sure principle Nezu has something to say about that" Hydregon said to comfort the angelic hero.

"Shall we go and see the males?" Angel asked.

"Actually we will get to meet all of them, I have arranged for us to use a conference room here to meet them all and talk to them, set the ground rules before the dorms, which they will be moving into tonight" Nezu said.

The twenty soon to be students sat down shoulder to shoulder while they were cuffed. The seven Pros stood standing in front with smiles on their faces except Eraser he doesn't smile.

"Well hello, Young students. I am Principal Nezu and behind me are the Pro Hereos that teach at U.A, a school where you'll be attending, we are here today to help you get adjusted to life outside of villainy, a life where you join everyone else. Now do you have an questions" Nezu said.

A pale hand went up "Mister Principal sir, will we be abused there as well?" A shy meek voice came out. "Oh and Mister Principal sir, my name is Maribelle" Maribelle added.

The pros furrowed thier brows and slowly glared into nothingness, before one brave soul answered.

"Well you see kid, these people we thought we could trust but they just seemed to be making it worse for you to change your path. Maribelle was it, we can promise you up front that no one will get abused or threatened, you will have your own free will and freedom. Do as you please, we just ask that you follow the guidelines we provide" Aizawa answered.

"Will we have to wear these stupid cuffs all the time?" A deep male voice answered.

"I don't see why, so no" Hydregon answered.

"Now we will be asking you all the split up into groups, Males on one side. Females on the other" Nezu announced.

There were some groans and complaining about it but none the less they complied. The females stood on one side of the room as the males took the other side of room. Midnight and Angel stood to watch over the females, while Hydregon and All Might stood to watch the males.

"Now that you are in your designated groups you will follow your Pro hero mentors to the buses lined up outside to go shopping for your needed items, such as bedding, clothing and daily necessities, school supplies and such" Principal Nezu said, he then handed the Pros envelopes and credit cards "Spend the money wisely, That means you girls" he added with a slight glare to Midnight.

The teens and their mentors got on to the buses and sat down talking amongst themselves. Angel noticed how a group of girls was glaring at another group, she sighed before remembering that it's all just pointless drama.

On another bus Hydregon noticed a boy who sat by himself and just stayed in the shadows, he walked up to sit next to him "You don't mind that I sit here right?" He asked before sitting down, the boy just ignored him and paid attention to the shadows.

[markgetsetgo]

The Only Exception

Author: ohhhkenneth

Pairing: Markson (GOT7)

Category: Romance

Length: 20 Chapters

Rated: M for smut, cursing

Summary:  Jackson is no stranger to one night stands or hookups. When the sun sets he comes alive; losing himself in the city lights, finding his way into the beds of guys whose names he didn't even bother to get. Relationships are off the table - he's more interested in the pursuit of unending happiness. Cars, clothes, money, sex. Life is easy for a twenty-something gay man in New York, especially when they're as hot as Jackson. What the boy wants, he gets. That is until his favorite coffee shop barista, Neil, is fired. Jackson is thrown for a curve ball when the coffee shop hires Mark Tuan as a replacement for Neil. Mark is a pale and beautiful young man who seems to have everything that Jackson wants, except one thing: he doesn't want Jackson.

Chapter 1

I have to be perfectly honest, I wasn't expecting to have as many potential suitors as I ended up having when I went out to the club on Saturday. I mean, being a young, wealthy, and good looking man - if I do say so myself - works wonders when you live in a large metropolis like New York. Over the year or so that I've been frequenting the bars my "little black book," if you will, has become filled with a dozen or so names of gorgeous and well endowed men that would drop anything if I called them, whether it was 4AM or 4PM, needing a hit. Typically I liked to find myself wrapped up in the sheets with another new body a few times a week. It was almost like a game to me, who could I get next, how long would it take me, that sort of thing.

One of my favorites, if not my absolute favorite, was Joel. He was a little older being 38 and all, but he was the epitome of a great fuck. I had heard stories of the mythical "monster dick" and men whose penises were that of tales and legends, but I hadn't run into one of those prized jewels until Joel. Turns out, they do exist. Unfortunately Joel is married and has three kids, so getting out and away from the family is sometimes tricky. We meet at motels and pretty well anywhere that we can. Sometimes I let him fuck me in his car. When you're horny you become crafty - every surface becomes a perfect place for fucking.

I met Chad online, he was a veteran, back from his tour in Iraq. He and I met on Grindr one evening when I realized that I was too spent and couldn't be bother to go out into the real world to find my night's fun. We exchanged a few contrived messages, "What's up?" "What are you into?" "Where do you live?" etc. After seeing a picture of him, I had to invite him over. I normally wouldn't host, because I don't like the idea of having perfect strangers in my condo where I have artwork that costs upwards of a hundred thousand dollars, but his ass was too great, it was an ass worth breaking a couple rules for.

Chad told me, the first night we met, that he was freshly single and wasn't well versed in bed. I told him it was okay, because I could take the lead, but I was pleasantly surprised that his own self evaluation of being an amateur was completely unfounded. Chad was a maniac.

Within minutes of me opening the front door, I found myself pressed up against the wall and my pants around my ankles. Chad bent me over slightly and buried his face into my ass, eating me out aggressively for what seemed like half an hour. I guess he had been deprived of ass eating for a while, and I was glad to help him out and be his late dinner.

Chad was the one with the perfect ass - even nicer than mine - so I was surprised when he took his saliva coated finger and slipped it into my quivering hole knuckle deep. He began fucking me in my front doorway for fifteen minutes, then lifted me into the living room where he threw me down, flipped me over, and took me for the ride of my life in one of the four positions he had in store for me that night. I guess being in the military really did have its advantages. Chad was incredibly strong, and tossed me around with ease. 

Finally, he finished me off by sticking his perfectly curved cock into my ass and pounded the cum out of me, making it sprout all over my chest. When he finished after me he mouthed a "thank you" and quickly did up his pants. Turns out he hadn't even taken his boots off, and with that he was out the door. I didn't mind that he trekked a little bit of mud in, I'd let him dump dirt all over my house if it meant that he would fuck me like that again. The maid would clean it anyway.

It's true that I have a wide range of men at my beck and call, some are into darker things like BDSM and role playing, some into feet and me stepping on them, still others are into romance and cuddling and "making love." I've been feeling a void inside my chest lately; something I can't quite put my finger on, that's making me anxious. For someone who can have literally anything he wants, why do I get the sense that I'm missing out on something? 

***

Work is something that keeps my mind busy when I'm not cruising or searching for the next hot guy to hit me up. I go into the office almost every day. One thing about me that I take pride in is my time management and conscientiousness; I stick to my schedule and respect my own boundaries and capabilities when it comes to work. My father's business got to where it was with my help, and together we have become incredibly successful. 

The only thing that makes work unattractive at times is the drudgery. It becomes incredibly slow and monotonous at times. Sometimes I find myself playing cheap games on my phone during meetings. That's why I take solace in the small things: the songs on the radio in the morning drive to work, seeing Neil each morning and getting my macchiato, the view from my office when the sun is rising. These are the things that maintain my sanity during the day.

Today was a morning just like every other. I pulled out of the car lot and headed towards Steepz, the coffee shop at the end of my street. They have a drive thru, but I insist on going in to speak with my favorite barista, the hilarious and cheerful Nathaniel.

When I step into the coffee shop, there's a small ding on the door as it closes behind me. There's a lineup of about 30 people, all tapping their feet and looking at their watches for the time. Seems there's a hold up; which is odd, considering Niel is practically a mad genius when it comes to coffee. He'd never let the line get this long.

"What's going on?" I softly ask the older woman in front of me.

"Ugh, they're taking so long. I think they're training a new staff member." she said over her shoulder to me in a very pointed tone.

I was tired too, so I understood her impatience. Coffee was like a drug, and this new staff member was the only thing between these angry addicts and the one thing they desired the most.

I waited and waited in the line, and since I'm my own boss I don't care about how late I am getting into the office, which is why I'm honestly not that upset when I finally get to the counter nearly 20 minutes later. 

The morning gets even weirder as I approach the counter and see that Niel is not working today. Surely he'd be the one training this newbie - he's the best there is. Instead, there's a shy and timid girl showing an even shyer and timid boy his way around the register. His face is down and his visor is hiding his face as he presses and prods at the till's buttons, nodding sternly to himself as the girl explains things to him.

When he lifts his head and greets me, I nearly lose my train of thought. 

"Hi, what would you like this morning?" the boy asks me in a gentle and warm tone.

It takes everything in me not to reply with "You. Right now. In front of everyone here."

I look down at the boy's name tag. Mark.

If I wasn't the most logical and rational thinker that I know, I would've believed anyone when they told me that Mark was an angel sent from the heavens to deliver coffee to me in that very moment. His hair was fluffy, a warm and deep golden color, falling neatly over his forehead. 

His eyes were two perfect slits of black that looked like they held the entire universe in them, and when he looked at me with a questioning gaze, I felt as though he had just looked right into my soul.

"Sir?" he asked. A single word that shattered me inside, arousing me beyond all control. It sounded so innocent, yet charming at the same time. What I wouldn't give to have him under me, begging me to enter him, whispering that same word to me in that same voice.

"I'll have a venti, skinny, caramel macchiato. Sorry." I finally answered when I had regained composure.

Mark nodded and turned his attention to the machine. His eyes went from innocent and loving to determined and focused as he worked away on the register.

"That'll be... $3.49 please." he said, looking back at me. I flashed him my gold American Express card, "Oh, credit. Okay, please insert when you're ready."

Insert when I'm ready? God, this boy. I thought.

"So, you're new. How are you liking it so far?" I said, punching my pin into the pad.

"It's really fun. I've made a lot of mistakes so far, but I'm excited to keep learning." Mark replied, beaming with light. 

"Ah, customers can be a bit unruly. Don't worry about it, I'm sure they'll warm up to you in no time. You have a very very inviting presence about you." I told him, wanting him to understand that I thought he was doing a great job.

"Thanks." he pursed his lips back and blushed.

"Here, this is for you, keep your spirits high. I'm sure it's the first of many tips you'll get." I handed him a fifty dollar bill and winked, heading off to the side to wait for my drink.

As I walked away I caught Mark's reaction to the tip. He was stunned, he picked the money up and quickly pocketed it, then shouted a thank you to me to which I nodded back at. 

I spent the next few minutes examining the new barista further as I waited for my drink. Mark looked to be about my age, although his gentle and loving demeanor made him appear a lot younger. He was fresh faced, with perfect soft skin and a winning smile that just begs to be returned. Though his eyes were determined and wise, they were juxtaposed on his face by his cute and boyish features. He was truly a sight for sore eyes. Maybe Neil being gone wasn't all that bad, after all.