#what an odd angle for an interview | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ilguna · 11 months ago

Note

If you are willing to do another haymitch could I please get #6 from list one? Thank you

☼ beneath the surface (Haymitch Abernathy) ☼

warnings; swearing, death mention, drinking mention, haymitch gets a concussion.

wc; 3.3k

prompt; 6. to outsiders, it looks like they don't get along at all.

notes; there's a 14 year age gap...

There is nothing more sickening than watching the roped-off section at the front of the stage begin to fill with young faces. Each year, you promise yourself that you’re going to show up a little later to the reaping to avoid the unavoidable nausea, but the restlessness gets the better of you.

So, you always get the displeasure of sitting on the stage and seeing every face, wondering which two will be the unlucky chosen ones. You used to be one of them almost ten years ago. You were just a face in the crowd of hundreds in the eighteen-year-old section in District Twelve.

You see a reflection of yourself in the older kids the most. The fleeting innocence, the fear, the determination, the hope that you’ll make it through one more year. All for it to be crushed in the span of thirty minutes.

The odds should’ve been in your favor—you never put your name in more times in exchange for Tessera. Which means that in a glass bowl that contained thousands of paper slips, only seven of them had your name written across them in clean handwriting. And still, you were picked.

The terror that took over your body in that moment still frequently returns itself to you. As your life flashed before your eyes, you remembered the amount of Career wins in recent years. And all the District Twelve tributes that never made it to the final ten. How this was going to be your fate in a short week.

Fortunately, it wasn’t. By some miracle, you managed to break a curse on District Twelve that had lasted fifteen years. The same curse that had a fifty year run before Haymitch Abernathy won the Quarter Quell. Not that it matters, because it’s beginning to build up again, anyway.

It’s nothing that you can help.

Which sounds awful, and you’re acutely aware of that, but you’ve tried every trick in the book. You’ve taken advice from other mentors, you’ve listened to Haymitch’s experience, you’ve used ideas that come to you in the middle of the night. The truth is that District Twelve is doomed.

It’s hard being a mentor, knowing that your efforts don’t really make a difference in your tribute’s survival unless they’re willing to try. It’s so rare to come across them. The tributes nowadays default to the idea that they’re going to die, which isn’t necessarily true.

Of course, they were born in this black vortex, but they can crawl out of it. It’s been done twice, by Haymitch and then by you. When you try to explain to them exactly what they have to do, they realize how much energy it’ll take. And because you don’t sugarcoat the fact that they probably won’t even catch the attention of the Capitol despite your steps, they don’t bother to continue.

It’s like they want the attention, the sponsors, the good scores and the alliances handed to them on a platter. Which is such a ridiculous concept, because when has a single person from District Twelve ever been handed those opportunities? You can’t figure out where they got this fantasy from.

Regardless, it always ends up going the same way. They let the Capitol week play out the same way it has for years, ultimately screwing them over. They put in no effort for the Tribute Parade, they don’t bother with the Training Center, and they end with low scores. It’s always by then where they come to their senses, because there’s a day before the interview, where there’s one-on-one coaching.

Due to you asking questions on their angle, their plan, what they’re willing to reveal to Caesar and the Capitol, it gets the gears turning. They realize that they’ve made a mistake, and they rely on you to fix it, but it’s always too late. You can’t come back from just a single interview.

As much as you try to help the tributes that come through, you’ve begun to slack. In the past, you jumped on them as soon as they got on the train. It was the best way to maximize their time with you, getting them a head-start, preparing them for what’s to come. Now, you observe them, and come to your own conclusions on whether or not they’ll listen to what you have to say.

Recently, you’ve been calling it the Haymitch spiral. This is exactly how he must’ve felt for the first few beginning years of mentoring, until the shine wore off and he realized that this is a rigged game. You were lucky enough to get him while he was still semi-sober, and your win even set him back on track for a couple more years.

It didn’t last long, though. He was gone by the time the Sixty-Seventh Hunger Games came around. For the first time, you were on your own to figure things out. The tributes made it farther than you thought they would under your guidance, and when you remarked to Haymitch that with his help, they could’ve made it, he brushed you off.

A part of you despises him for this, for throwing away every tribute that comes in his direction. For rubbing it in your face afterward because you tried to make a difference. It takes everything in you not to shove it all back onto him sometimes. All you’d have to say is, “No wonder we’ve lost dozens of teenagers, they had you to help them.”

You know that if you did ever say that, then he’d shut down. Which you can’t afford him to do. There's moments of clarity where he’ll help, telling the tributes factors that you didn’t even think of. But these times are so few and far between that they hold practically no worth.

As much as you’ve learned to love and appreciate Haymitch, you truly hope that you never end up like him. That you lose so much hope and self-control that you end up with a drinking problem and blurry memories for the rest of your life. It’s your worst nightmare.

As the time nears two o’clock, the flow of teenagers go from a slow trickle to a steady flow. They shuffle into their designated areas, choosing the spots where they’ll be hidden the most from the cameras. From the prying eyes of the Capitol.

You reach up to brush a dribble of sweat from your forehead. If there’s one day out of the year that you can count on being uncomfortable, it’s reaping day. The dry heat has been particularly torturous this year. It makes you look forward to being on the train, at least it’s air conditioned.

As if activated by your movement, Effie Trinket leans in your direction, the gentle pink curls of her wig tickling the side of your face, so that she can whisper without alerting Mayor Undersee. “Where is Haymitch?”

Your face twists, moving away from her to get some space between you, allowing you to see the look on her face, which has been painted white this afternoon. You scratch your skin to make the feeling go away.

“He couldn’t even pull himself out of bed this morning. I just left him there.” You whisper, eyes sliding away, to the crowded streets, wondering if you’ll be able to spot him. “He managed to leave the neighborhood at the same time I did, if I had to guess…” You trail off, looking in the direction of the Hob, where the white liquor is sold for cheap.

“Again?” She asks incredulously, as if the idea is outrageous when you’re talking about Haymitch. It’s not the first time that he’s shown up to the reaping drunk, but if he doesn’t come soon, he’ll be late. Which will be a first for him. “You need to find him.”

You shrug. “And do what, Effie?” You look at Mayor Undersee, “Excuse me, what time is it?”

He raises his eyebrows, flipping up his wrist to look at the watch. His eyebrows draw in, “I’d say five minutes to two.”

Effie’s eyes have widened. “We’ll get in trouble, (Y/n).”

“It’s not like I can get up and look for him.” You throw your hands up, they slap the top of your knees when they land.

Effie presses her lips together, unhappy with your indifference. Neither of you speak for the remaining five minutes, which you spend hoping that Haymitch will appear out of thin air. When the clock strikes two, Mayor Undersee gets to his feet, heading for the podium. He can’t wait for Haymitch.

He begins to read the history of Panem, which is done every year at the reaping. He talks about the disasters, the droughts, the storms, the fires, and the seas that claimed hundreds of miles of land. A war was fought to claim what was left of it, with the result being Panem.

A Capitol surrounded by thirteen districts, that was supposed to bring peace and prosperity to its residents. It was gone when the Dark Days came, the districts rebelling against the Capitol. Out of the thirteen districts, only twelve survived. The Treaty of Treason was written up to guarantee peace, the Hunger Games being part of the new law.

“It is both a time for repentance and a time for thanks.” Mayor Undersee says. “District Twelve has had three victors in its time of existence. An unknown woman, Haymitch Abernathy, and (Y/n) (L/n).”

A voice shouts something slurred and unintelligible. You glance over to see if the Peacekeepers are reacting, when you find that it’s Haymitch, struggling to get up the stairs safely. You sit up in your seat, watching as he stumbles across the stage, drunk.

The crowd applauds like they’re supposed to after the announcement of the victors. A sloppy smile crosses Haymitch’s face, as he falls into the empty chair beside you. The smell of liquor burns your nose, making your face twist as you go to look away.

Haymitch reaches over, a hand on your cheek as he directs his face to yours. You place your hand over his mouth, shaking your head, disturbed. “Will you pull yourself together?”

“May I introduce District Twelve’s wonderful Capitol escort, Effie Trinket?” The mayor asks, trying to save the moment.

Effie gets to her feet, straightening out her spring green suit. She heads for the podium, while Mayor Undersee comes back to the row of chairs with wide eyes in your direction. As if he’s asking for you to get a handle of Haymitch. You’re not his babysitter—you’re hardly even his girlfriend. He’s a grown man, he doesn’t want to listen to you.

“Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favor!” Effie bubbles, tilting her head.

You should be past the point of fixing Haymitch’s behavior, especially since what you say goes in one ear and out the other. This might be your breaking point, with him showing up late and drunk and then embarrassing you. It’s fine if he doesn’t want to be taken seriously with the Capitol, but you’re still trying to be a good mentor.

“It is such an honor to be here today.” She says, placing a white-gloved hand over her chest, as if she’s being sincere. “It’s always such a pleasure being here in District Twelve, seeing all of your lovely faces.” She takes in a breath. “Ladies first!”

She crosses the stage to go to the glass ball with the girls’ names. She stops in front of it, reaching inside, digging her hand deep into the thousands of slips of paper. She pulls one out from the bottom, making her way back to the podium.

The square has fallen completely silent. She opens the piece of paper, reads it to herself silently, before looking up to the teenagers that are presented in front of her.

“Primrose Everdeen.”

A girl materializes out of the twelve-year-old section at the very back. You sigh, sinking in your chair. The crowd gathered around begins to talk amongst themselves happily, which is common when a tribute so young is picked. No one thinks it’s fair, not even the ones that illegally bet.

Primrose is pale, hands clenched in fists at her sides, taking small steps toward the stage. She makes it past the sixteen section, before there’s an objection. “Prim!” A cry cuts through the silence. “Prim!”

You watch as an older girl makes her way through the crowd, as the teenagers part to let her free. Primrose is just reaching the first step when the older one moves her away. “I volunteer!” She gasps. “I volunteer as tribute!”

You sit upright in your chair again, looking at Mayor Undersee. He’s got a deep crease between his eyebrows, eyes slightly squinted, staring ahead, thinking. District Twelve never gets volunteers, it’s likely been decades since it last happened. In other districts, teenagers fight to be the tributes that year.

“Lovely!” Effie chirps. “But I believe there’s a small matter of introducing the reaping winner and then asking for volunteers, and if one does come forth then we, um…” She’s lost confidence in herself.

“What does it matter?” The mayor says, face grave. “What does it matter? Let her come forward.”

Primrose is beginning to scream, latching onto the volunteer. “No, Katniss! No! You can’t go!”

“Prim, let go.” Katniss says harshly, trying to pry Primrose’s arms off. “Let go!”

A male slips out of the eighteen section, coming for the both of them. He grabs onto Primrose, pulling her into his arms, where she begins to trash violently. He says something to Katniss, before walking to the end of the aisle, where a crying mother has a hand over her mouth.

“Well, bravo!” Effie gushes. “That’s the spirit of the Games! What’s your name?”

Katniss has made it onto the stage. “Katniss Everdeen.”

“I bet my buttons that was your sister. Don’t want her to steal all the glory, do we? Come on, everybody! Let’s give a big round of applause to our newest tribute!”

Silence.

As no one claps, no one moves. This is typical, what you’d expect from your home district. If people were to listen to Effie and applaud, then that means they approve of what is happening here. Which is far from what they believe.

It’s like this for several seconds, before you see the movement. It’s just one person at first, and then it ripples across the square. As your people press the three middle fingers of their left hand to their lips before raising it in the air. A gesture that is rarely used, primarily seen at funerals.

It’s a thanks, it’s a sign of admiration, and it means goodbye to someone that you loved.

Haymitch has risen from his seat, you swipe at his hand to pull him back into his seat, but he’s surprisingly agile. He makes it across the stage, where he throws an arm around Katniss’s shoulder. “Look at her. Look at this one!” He shouts. “I like her!” He stares, “Lots of…” He tilts his head back, as if looking to the clouds for inspiration. “Spunk!” He suddenly says. “More than you!” He moves toward the edge of the stage. You almost get to your feet, because that’s a bad idea for the state he’s in, but you refuse to be dragged down, too. “More than you!” He points directly into the camera.

He doesn’t realize that the stage ends, you know this because he walks right off the front of it. You bury your face in your hands, shaking your head. By the time you lift it, they’ve taken him away on a stretcher, clearly unconscious.

“What an exciting day!” Effie’s voice is wavering. “But more excitement to come! It’s time to choose our boy tribute!” She quickly moves to the boy bowl, where she plucks the top slip out, hurrying back to the podium. She opens the paper, not stopping to read this time. “Peeta Mellark.”

A boy from the sixteen area comes out. A competitor, you think, but you’ve thought the same in the past. You watch as he comes to stand on the other side of Effie. She asks for volunteers, but when none steps forward, Effie and Mayor Undersee trade places again. He begins to read the Treaty of Treason, but you’re leaning over to speak to Effie.

“Are they going to take Haymitch to the train?”

“I believe so.” She places her hands on her knees. “They’ll probably dispose of him in his bed.”

“Dispose.” You echo.

When Mayor Undersee finishes his speech, he motions for Peeta and Katniss to shake hands. When they’re done, the anthem of Panem plays in full. Then, they’re taken through the front of the Justice Building by the Peacekeepers. You get up from where you’d been sitting.

Mayor Undersee comes to join you and Effie, where he places a hand on your shoulder. “He’s likely inside of the building in the far back.”

“Of the Justice Building?” You ask, looking at Effie. “They didn’t just take him to the train?”

“We don’t have the cars to spare. We have one for you and him, and then we have the separate one for Effie and the tributes.”

“Right.” You smooth out your pants. “Will you bring us to him?”

Mayor Undersee nods, heading inside of the Justice Building. You glance back at the front of the stage to see that the crowd is slowly dispersing, the Peacekeepers shut the doors a moment later. You’re brought all the way to the back, where the mayor leaves you to figure it out.

You open the door, stepping inside, finding Haymitch sitting upright on a bed. Usually the ones the school nurse provided in her office for when you felt sick. His face is twisted, touching a tender spot on the side of his head.

“Are you fucking kidding?” You cross your arms. “What was going through your head to think that it was okay to show up drunk?”

“I lost track of time.” Haymitch says.

“I don’t care that you were late! You were drunk on stage! This is a televised event, Haymitch.”

“I know that.”

You shake your head. “Then you should know that this will not be happening again. You’re done drinking.”

He scoffs. “Am I? Who’s going to stop me?”

“Me!” You shout. “Did you even see what happened out there? We have a volunteer that must mean something to the people here. And a boy that looks like he could maybe come from District Two.”

“Wow.” Haymitch mutters, he’s still drunk.

“You will not be doing this in the Capitol. I will not let you be this way in the Capitol, I want you to actually mentor, not your shotty half-ass work. We have a real shot.”

“We have a real shot.” He mocks your voice. “You call my mentoring shotty and half-assed when you can’t even give them sound advice. You’re too worried about how you look for the cameras. I have my head screwed on straight.”

“Are you seriously calling me Capitol-obsessed right now?” Your voice drops.

Haymitch squints at you, possibly realizing his mistake. And then he opens his mouth, “Well you are, aren’t you?”

The room is tense, Effie clears her throat. “Maybe you two shouldn’t be together if you don’t like each other.” She says quietly.

“No, I like Haymitch.” You scoff, waving your hand. “In fact, I love him.” Haymitch blinks in surprise. “But I would equally love the idea of him being sober for once in the Capitol. It’s not easy for all of us, you know. You think I like sitting through this every year while you get to have a drink?”

Haymitch sighs, head hanging slightly. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m tired of the apologies, too. Unless you’re going to do something to fix it, don’t bother.”

this was part of my 3k celebration!!

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juneberrie · 2 years ago

Text

i don't want you like a best friend - cato hadley

₊˚ʚ 🌱 ₊˚✧ ﾟ. cato hadley x fem!reader

author's note — ꩜ oooooh my first cato fic!! i hope you guys like it ♡

word count — ☆ 1.2k

warnings — ✦ooc clove probably, cato calling reader "shortstack"

the world stopped when his name was called. my lungs seem to shrink in my chest and my surroundings start to spin. he can't go, he can't go into the games. he can't leave me.

cato steps up to the stage, weaving through the crowd of people. he stands there as some capitol person rifled through the other glass bowl, searching for some poor girls name. he locks eyes with me and shakes his head ever so slightly.

"clove kentwell," the announcer says. a young girl starts to walk forward but before she even made it three feet i scream.

"i volunteer! i volunteer!" i push forward, risking a glance at the girl, clove, who glares at me before realizing why i volunteered. she sighs and gestures for me to proceed.

on wobbly feet, i step up to the stage next to cato. he doesn't even listen to the announcer's speech about the honor we'll bring to our district and what not. he turns to me with a look that says i'm going to kill you and thank you at the same time.

we're ushered into the building and corralled into separate rooms. cato looks back at me with an unreadable expression before the peacekeepers shove us both behind doors.

two minutes pass, but nobody comes in to say goodbye to me. i sigh and turn to the window before hearing the door open. through the reflection in the window, i see clove standing there, flanked by peacekeepers.

i turn to face her and we size each other up before she says something. "so, you and cato?"

immediately i feel my face heat up. "no- i mean, we're friends, is all. nothin' else."

she laughs and takes a step towards me. "sure. anyways, i wanted to wish you luck."

"you're not... mad? that i volunteered for you?" her name clicks and suddenly i register who she is. clove kentwell, one of the academy's top fighters. she's on track to volunteer and become a victor before she's even 17, and she would've become one of the youngest victors if i hadn't volunteered.

"i mean, i'm kind of pissed, but i get more training. better odds of winning next year," she states. one of the peacekeepers informs us that her time is up, and as she walks out of the room, she calls over her shoulder, "may the odds be ever in your favor, lovergirl."

after a while, the peacekeepers escort me and cato into the train station, where his family and clove stand at the front of the crowd. as the train pulls out of the station, cato's little sister screams his name, waving her arms wildly at her brother, and he waves back with a giddy smile. clove catches my eye and winks, and i roll my eyes and turn away from the window.

enobaria stands behind us, along with the announcer, whos name i learn is florentino. she quickly explains what will happen when we get to the capitol; the parade, the training, the interviews. she tells us to start thinking of ideas for angles we could use in the interviews, then instructs us to get something to eat and rest before we arrive.

she and florentino disappear behind a door, leaving me and cato alone.

i make a beeline to the mini-buffet laid out on the table and grab some sort of roll, which when i bite into it, is actually a cheese stick wrapped in fried bread theres a little label beside the plate that says "tequeños". these are the best things i've ever tasted in my life. i moan as i bite into another one, letting the flavor explode in my mouth.

i hear cato laugh behind me and reach to grab one. "are these really that good?" i nod fervently, grabbing a glass of water.

we eat in silence for a few minutes before i get up, announcing that we might as well try to sleep. cato agrees, but he doesn't move.

"hey, uh." i turn back, my hand on the door handle.

"yeah, cato?" something in his face changes when i say his name, but its gone before i can register what it is.

"don't let the bedbugs bite, shortstack," he says with a smirk. he follows me to the hallway where enobaria told us our rooms would be. our rooms are right across from each other.

i step into the room and shut the door behind me. then, i jump face first onto the big soft bed. it feels like heaven on earth, with its silk sheets and fluffy pillows. i kick my shoes off and rummage around in a drawer, finding a pair of silk pajamas to change into before i burrow under the covers. just as im drifting off to sleep, someone knocks at my door.

i groan and get up to open it.

cato's standing there, shirtless and wearing a pair of grey sweatpants. "hi shortstack."

"cato," i grumble. "its like, 2 am. what do you want?"

he looks around before stepping into my room. "just wanted to talk."

"and it couldn't wait until morning?" he shakes his head and sits down on my bed. i join him and flop onto my back. i almost fall asleep with the silence stretching between us until he clears his throat.

"the rooms are nice, huh?" he says. filler talk. "way better than the dorms at the academy." the dorms we have in the academy are standard issue, with a twin size bed, a window, a desk, a chair, and a wardrobe. nothing like the opulent gilded queen size bed and dresser with an en-suite bathroom the train has.

"yeah," i yawn. "they are pretty great." i close my eyes. i feel cato put an arm around me.

"sorry for waking you up," he offers, letting me curl up into his side. i throw an arm over his chest and make a sound of assent. "y'know, you didn't have to volunteer."

"i wanted to," i defend. "its not like i was going to let you go into the arena alone, cato."

"i would've preferred that," cato snaps. he sits up and rubs a hand over his face. "i don't want you to.."

"to what, cato? to leave my best friend?" i retort, opening my eyes and shooting up. the words pain me to say; i know thats all i am to him. a best friend. "i thought you would've been glad that i volunteered. the games are all we've talked about since we were ten. and what better alliance than best friends?"

"exactly! i don't want you like a best friend," he yells. he stands up and starts pacing. "you're much too special and kind and pretty and strong to be my 'best friend,' n/n. i don't want to see you get hurt. how would i be able to live with myself if you got hurt in the games, huh? how could i call myself a victor and be happy if the one person who actually made me happy wasn't with me?"

we stare at each other for a few moments. his heavy breathing and my short sniffles are the only sounds in the room. slowly, i stand up and take tentative steps towards him.

we stand face to face, chests almost touching but feeling miles apart. my hand brushes against his for the barest moment and he grabs it, locking our fingers together.

"you mean it?" i whisper, looking up at him.

"i mean every word when it comes to you," he breathes.

#cato hadley #cato hadley x reader #thg #thg x reader #the hunger games #the hunger games x reader #[🧸] dear diary

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babybluebex · 8 months ago

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BEX I HAVE A THOUGHT

so there’s this Photo from when dommy went to the sag awards this year:

and all i can think about is your blurb abt “the scene” and like

What If yall’s film was nominated for an award and y’all are on the carpet . the look he’d give you as he’s watching you get interviewed n stuff?.? like the proud smile AGH

anyways this is the thought from 1am my time gn <3

oh yes, i can see you guys being in a very steady and good relationship ever since your first night together, but not announcing your relationship to the public, and that's pretty much your "fault", you wanted to try to get people in the industry to take you seriously and not think you're just some little girl who falls in love with the first guy to look at you, and dom understands your reservations, so you two haven't announced anything

but that definitely doesn't mean that you escape suspicion, you're always spotted out at lunch or at pubs together, basically attached at the hip the whole time, and paps notice the way dom will play with your hair or your skirt, basically the way he can get handsy, and somehow the popular narrative becomes that you two are fwbs and not actually dating

but YES the movie starts to get a lot of critical acclaim, but most of it is pointed specifically at YOU, people LOVE your performance and say that it's the best performance they've seen in years, and you're getting nominated for a bunch of "best actress" awards at various shows and you start WINNING?? and you're always sitting next to dom, and he has to REALLY exercise control when you win, he wants to just grab you and kiss you but he knows you're not comfortable with that yet, so it's just a gentle hug and good-natured pat on the back

but he's pulling THAT exact face in the bg of you being interviewed about your historic run of wins, like he's not exactly in frame of the camera but people find another angle of the interview that shows him better and he's just cheesing up a storm

and oh my god, the night before the academy awards, you're nominated for best actress and dom is for best supporting actor, and the odds are looking in your favors, but you're crying on dom's chest, so terrified about what will happen if you win, you're scared that it means you've peaked and will never have anything like this again

and dom shushes you and kisses your teary cheeks, "shh, honey, it's ok... look, i got you a present, do you wanna see it? i wasn't gonna give it to you until tomorrow night, after we've both won, but i can give it to you now" and he rolls out of bed and pulls his pajama pants up his skinny hips as he goes to his luggage, and he grabs a small box from his suitcase and gives it to you, and you sniffle as you open it, and you first come across a flannel buttoned shirt, and you instantly recognize it "... this is the shirt you wore—" "to the bar our first night together," dom nods, "what was that... two years ago, i guess? but i hardly wear it because it used to smell like the perfume you wore that night... it doesn't so much anymore, but it's still sentimental to me. but i want you to have it" "oh, dom, i can't—" "yes you can" and he nods at the box "there's more in there, go on"

and you move back into the box and push aside the paper filling up the empty space, and you find a delicate box in the bottom, obviously a jewelry box, and your mouth goes dry, bc it's a small square box and you know what that means and you sorta whisper "dominic?" and his eyes are sparkling as he gently takes the ring box into his hand and opens it, and you gasp

the ring is beautiful, your dream ring, and you harken back to a few months before, when bella had asked you to help her pick out an engagement ring, and you had given opinions the whole day, but under the pretense of helping her, what cut you liked and what gemstone, and it suddenly clicks into place: bella, the absolute sneak, had colluded with dom to figure out what your perfect engagement ring was "oh my god, dommy, yes"

"i didn't even ask you anything" dom smiles with playfully narrowed eyes "but i know what you're gonna say, and fuck, yes" you sob and grab him tight and draw him into a hug, and he kisses you and fumbles blindly to put the ring on your finger

and the next night, you're all dressed up for the oscars, and vanity fair is there to make a video on dom getting ready, and they tell you that it'll come out after the awards show, and you and dom are free to be a cheesy annoying engaged couple because you've already decided exactly how and when you're going to announce it that night

and it comes time for the awards show, you're all sitting together, you and dom and your director (who was nominated for best director), and best supporting actor comes up first (not the first award, but out of the nominations y'all have, it comes first in the night), and your heart is in your throat as they flash up clips from the movies of each actor, and you notice the cheering is just a little louder when dom's clip is onscreen, and you think you actually pass out when the announcer calls out "dominic sessa!" but you're drawn right back to reality by dom grabbing you and hugging you, and your mouth is just gaping like a fish, unable to form words as you grab his face and tear up, and you want to kiss him, but you can't, not quite yet

he gets up to the stage, and he does his little gasping laugh "oh wow..." gazes lovingly at the oscar statue in his hand "this thing is heavier than i thought it would be..." and the whole audience laughs "but um, this is an honor... i sorta stumbled into this field— literally, actually, i stumbled, i fell and broke my leg and couldn't do sports, so i decided to try acting on a whim, and— whatever, but this was never the plan for me, but this award is... it means a lot..." and he takes a breath and squints in the stage lights to find you and he smiles "i think actors are defined by certain roles in their lifetimes... pacino as corleone, schwarzenegger as the terminator... and even though this role will always have a special place in my heart, the role i think most defines me... is the role of husband. and for that, i have to thank my beautiful wife, and by extension, our director and screenwriter and casting director, if you guys hadn't put her in my life, i wouldn't have her, and that role means more to my heart than anything else does... oh, shi— crap, they're telling me to wrap it up, haha. anyway, yeah, um, wife, director, crew, my other actors, the academy, and, um, is ryan gosling here this year? yeah, you're cool too"

and he gets offstage and comes to you, and you finally FINALLY get to kiss him, and you see the cameras starting to swarm you, and you take care to put your hand on his face, to let everyone see the ring

and now that the cat's out of the bag, you're not afraid to be loving and cute together, and your director wins her award, and you get a notification on your phone that your movie is trending online, associated with "SWEEP!!", and suddenly the pressure starts to gnaw at you and your stomach turns, but your fiancé is luckily very in tune with you, and he gets up and leaves for the bar in the back of the room and quickly returns with a small glass of ginger ale and rubs your back as he whispers "hey, you're gonna be ok, it's all gonna be fine" "dommy i don't wanna win" you whimper and he shushes you "well, honey, i'm gonna be honest here, i think you are gonna win" dom tells you "i don't think you have a choice, so what you're gonna do, when they call your name, all you gotta do is just go up there, and look at me. don't look at the cameras, don't look at margot robbie or anyone, just look at me" "what happens if i puke?" you whisper "i'll clean it up" dom says instantly, without a single thought "wh-what happens if i can't talk up there?" you ask, and you're certain dom's patience is wearing thin, but if it is, he's not letting it show even remotely "i'll talk for you" dom says, and gently urges you to sip your drink to calm your stomach "look, you are amazing, you deserve this award— if they gave my untalented ass a fucking oscar, then you are way more qualified to win than i am— and winning doesn't mean you've peaked. it means it's just beginning" and he shifts a little closer to you and pushes your hair behind your ear, and he whispers "tell you what— if you get on that stage and thank only the academy and then immediately leave, if that's all you do... i'll eat you out in the car on the way to the after party. deal?" and you sniffle and give a weak laugh, but you nod at him, and he grins "i mean, i'd do that anyway, but if that's the incentive you need..."

and the lights dim to signal the end of commercial break, and you feel sick the whole time as they're announcing the nominees for best actor, and you're so acutely aware of the big camera rig next to you, capturing your every reaction, and you go hot when they flash the clip of you and you notice the louder cheers, just like before

and you must have been too busy trying not to throw up that you didn't even hear your name announced, you just hear the cheering, and suddenly dom's got his hands on you, pulling you out of your seat and hugging you, and you just feel numb, but your feet work you up to the stage and you're handed the statue, and you look out past the lights and the audience full of industry giants, and you lock eyes with dom and you swallow thickly "... why is this so goddamn heavy..." you mumble and there's laughter "baby, you could've told me" and dom grins and shrugs "i just... really don't know what to say... um... thank you to the academy, who thought i'm worthy of this.... and my husband said that's all i gotta say, so i think i'm gonna go before i puke everywhere"

and you get back to your seat, and you feel a lot better now that it's over, and dom kisses you so sweetly, and you two goofs continue your goof streak and make your oscars kiss like barbie dolls

(and dom makes good on the promise he made hehe)

#bex answers #thekid-ofsteel #dominic sessa x reader

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just-someone-who-likes-to-write · 2 years ago

Text

His Little Nurse

(Requested by @kpopgirlbtssvt : Ooo can I please request a (yandere but with fluff too?) Jonathan Crane x fem!reader where she’s a nurse that works at Arkham but she’s super sweet and innocent, and she blushes and stutters every time Jonathan talks to her (he’s technically her boss). He has a soft spot for her and wants her to be his and his alone. Luckily, that’s exactly what she wants too. All it took was him bringing her into his office to say he’s reassigning what area she’s working in, as in he makes her his own personal live-in nurse rather than an Arkham nurse (for when he gets injured being the scarecrow and because he wants her all to himself! Add anything you’d like!! )

(A/N): This has ask has been marinating in my ask box for MONTHS, as well as the story in my files, I'm sorry for suddenly disappearing and taking so long to finish the story, to be fair the story was almost finished a long time ago, I just lost energy to actually wrap it up. but i hope I hope I did it justice, and that you and others will enjoy it, and sorry if I strayed a bit.

Warnings: Fluff, bullying in work, yandere tendencies, Grammatical Error (Because I didn't proof read it.)

Word Count: 6,780

Being a nurse at Arkham Asylum for the Criminally Insane isn't easy, mostly because you are literally trying to look after and care for insane people who had no empathy, sense of morals, or even death if they stepped too far.

When she came to interview for the job as a nurse in Arkham, they gave her and other nurses several tests to deem them good enough to work there or not, one of those tests is a test of will and patience because they made it clear that working with insane criminals will be a lot of challenges.

"Why do you think we had open positions in the first place?"

That is what Dr. Asmadeus said, which sent a chill down (Y/n)'s spine, but never the less she stayed determined and strong believing she is more than qualified and ready for the job, so you can imagine her happiness when she got a call saying she has been accepted. However, her happiness was short-lived after a few weeks of working there. (Y/n) can remember her first few weeks very clearly, not that she is ever able to forget it because it was a literal nightmare, the tests they made her endure were nothing compared to the real thing.

She was yelled at, whether it was insulting, lewd remarks, promises of painful death and horrible acts that be done to her, or just simple screeching to her face, but she took it like a champ, of course at the end of the day she might need a drink or two, but it was still nothing, and with the guards always accompanying her on her rounds it gave her confidence that no harm will come to her.

Then the random attacks happened. she would go into the cell of an insane patient who acted all nice and polite, almost making her question why were they here in the first place, even the guards weren't as alert around them as the other patients, but she guesses it's what they wanted because one second she greeted them with a smile, next second she found herself being slammed against a wall with her arm bent in an angle almost breaking it if the guards weren't fast enough she would have probably walked out with an arm cast that day.

When that incident first happens, she was told to leave early to collect her nerves since she was obviously in shock but not expect the treatment often because, after all, this is Arkham, and because of that, she decided to take night shifts for a while since odd enough it's quieter than the morning shift for even if the inmates acted up the guards will deal with them.

And that's how she met Doctor Jonathan Crane.

She was in the middle of moving medicine when she walked past his open office and caught a glimpse of him being exhausted from whatever was in the file he was examining, rubbing his eyes roughly to try and keep himself awake. Now, (Y/n) has seen Dr. Crane before, but never personally, it was always from afar and her older colleagues warned her about him, saying that he was a short-tempered and scary man, who would lash at anyone for making the smallest mistakes. Heading their warnings, she stayed away from him until that night. She decided to forget about the rumors and make a cup of coffee for him, admittedly, she was shaking the closer she got to his office, afraid that he will yell at her for interrupting his research or something, but she still stayed her ground and knocked on his door.

When she knocked on the door, he immediately closed his file and put it away, which startled her, but his moment of hurried panic died when he saw that it was just her. he let out a groan before demanding why was she there.

"I…I… I thought you may like some coffee… since you are working so hard, sir." She cursed at her shaking voice, but how can she stay calm when a pair of tired blue eyes looked at her with a frown.

However, his frown was replaced with confusion at her words.

"You brought me a coffee?" he asked, she nodded.

"Only because you saw me working?"

Another nod.

"And without ulterior motives?" he asked suspicious of her genuine gesture.

"Of course, not sir."

He must her believe her outburst of confidence because after a few seconds of staring her down, he gestured for her to put the cup on his table, which she did, and the closer she got the more intense his stare was, she felt him calculating her every move, probably was waiting for her to do something stupid to lecture her with but she stayed strong.

"Would you like anything, sir?" She asked, finally meeting his eyes.

"No," he replied not breaking eye contact.

"Very well, my shift will end in a few hours if you need anything you can inform me, after all this night seems like a slow one." She said chuckling at her own small joke but getting no reaction making her feel embarrassed.

So, she nodded to him one last time before turning to leave but as she was about to exit the room he spoke.

"Thank you for the coffee, Ms. (L/n)."

"How did you-"

"Your name tag." He said pointing at his chest to where her name tag was pinned on her.

"Oh right…" She gave him a nervous smile and just before she left, she could swear she saw a glimpse of him smiling as well.

After that, she started seeing him a bit more around. The first time he greeted her by name was in front of her colleague, asking her how was her day, and she in return asked about his night yesterday and if the coffee helped, it was a friendly chat, but her colleague was in shock, especially the ones who worked with the doctor longer than anyone, they showered her with many questions…

"What happened?"

"What did you do?"

"You went to his office without him calling?"

"You actually talked to him?"

"Did you do anything "Funny" to him?"

(Y/n) tried to answer as best as she could, saying time and time again that nothing happened and she just gave him coffee because he looked tired. But it made it hard for some to believe her words because he continued to greet her and even ask for her personally if she needed an assistant.

One day Dr. Crane came to work with a few bruises on his face that were bandaged, which made her hurry to him in panic.

"Dr. Crane, are you alright? What happened?" She asked worriedly.

"Uhm… don't worry dear it's nothing you need to worry your little head about." He replied deflecting her questions but she still pressed.

"What do you mean not to worry? You look like you were beaten up, did someone hit you? do I need to call the police?" A soft look showed in his eyes at her concern for her.

"As I said it's nothing." He repeated and petted her head before leaving for his office probably to rest.

On that day (Y/n) did her best to stay as close as possible to help him with anything or give him anything he might need, the nurse thought she was being subtle but was proven wrong when he came to her at the end of the day and thanked her for her care, making a red blush show on her face. The next day she was told that from now on she would be working under Dr. Crane, because one of his previous nurses were not “up to his level”, as she was told.

And (Y/n) was more than happy to be his nurse, her coworkers mockingly pitied her, making bets behind her back that she won’t last a day. However, a month passed and she is merrier than ever, Dr. Crane was a great boss, he was always lenient, and when she did make a mistake, he’d lecture her softly and show her how it should be done.

“Don’t laugh... But... I think I have a crush on him.” She confessed to a colleague one day during lunch.

“Oh, shocker.” Her friend replied sarcastically.

“I’m being serious here!”

“I know dear, but it’s not really news since all of us could see you stare at him the entire day with hearts in your eyes.” she said chuckling, making the girl blush.

“Is it that obvious?” She asked. “Y... You don’t... think HE noticed... Do you?”

“I’m not sure.”

“What do you mean?”

“Listen, I worked here for a long time before you came along, and aside from what everyone is saying he isn’t always that bad, he can be nice if he wants to, strict man, but fair.” Her friend started explaining. “Sorry if I sound blunt, but you are not the first he treated nicely, there were nurses before you who he tolerated.”

After that comment (Y/n) dropped the subject and focused on eating even though she had lost her appetite from the harsh words. Was Dr. Crane truly only tolerating her? He did look a bit disappointed that one time she gave him the wrong medicine, is he only being polite by making her join his crew because she was nice and gave him coffee that one night? Such questions continued to flood her mind all night that day. So, she decided to keep distant.

(Y/n) exchanged work schedules with another nurse, which means she had to work closer to inmates while her colleague worked close to Dr. Crane, (Y/n) didn’t even get through the first round before the doctor found her and demanded to know why isn’t she working at her usual post.

"I… I thought a bit of change could be nice…" She lied with a weary smile hoping he'd believe her. "For both of us."

"Well, it isn't." He dead-panned. "The other nurse was a disaster, she didn't know where my stuff was or my routine, which means that I would be forced to explain everything and I hate that."

(Y/n) looked down a bit ashamed, thinking maybe she could have at least told the other nurse a tip or two.

"Not seeing you there with a smile and a sweet good morning already threw me off and now that!"

He mumbled with a tired sigh. (Y/n) didn't know if he realized that she said it loud enough for her to hear or if he just didn't care, all she knew is that she had to fight a heavy blush as she followed him back to his office to help him resume his work. Unconsciously, that day she did her best to keep a happy smile, which seemed to pull the doctor out of his previous gloomy mood.

And even though (Y/n) still had some of her doubts about the doctor's feelings towards her she did her best to not allow it to interfere with her job again.

---

"Revaluation?" (Y/n) questioned as she followed the doctor into his office.

"Yup." He confirmed. "Since we are getting more mad criminals like that recent self-proclaimed "Scarecrow" than actual patients they decided that it would be better to replace our dear delicate nurses with… more muscle."

There was a pause for a moment as she refused to meet the eyes of the doctor as anxiety about what was to come started to build in her.

"Listen, my dear." He started earning her attention and she was met with kind eyes and a smile. "I will do my best to put out a good name for you, I maybe not be the most … well-liked… doctor on the board but at least they trust my opinion, just remember keep working hard, and don’t tell anyone about this."

"Why did you tell me then?" She asked confused.

"Because you are my very best nurse, I can't afford to lose you-.. Ouch!"

"Are you ok!?"

Dr. Crane's words were cut off when he tried to rest his forearm on the table, only to hiss in pain and jerk back.

"I'm fine." He assured before pulling his sleeve and revealing a line of bruises that were treated in a bit messy way probably because he had to do it alone.

"You are not fine!" With that said (Y/n) went to a nearby first aid kit.

"My dear, stop, I assure you I am completely fine." He tried to convince her but she refused to take no for an answer as she reached out for the injured hand, which had dodged.

There was a moment of stunt silence from (Y/n)'s end, but she didn't give up as she tried to take hold of his forearm, but he kept dodging her, flailing his arm around like a madman, but after a while (Y/n) stopped with a huff.

"Please…Let me treat you." She begged with e sad look in her eyes as she met his own, it didn't take long for the doctor to give and reveal his injury to her, again.

There was an eerie silence between them as she worked on the doctor, she was so focused on treating him that she didn't notice how he was staring down at her fondly, but he shook his head becoming stern again.

"You are too kind (Y/n), that's why I mean it when I say make sure to tell no one." He said in all seriousness, making her meet his eyes before smiling.

"Don't worry doctor, I'll tell no one."

After that, the nurse stayed for a while to make sure that the doctor was alright, before excusing herself, and just as she left she missed the look of regret that showed on his face before closing the door behind her.

---

She should have listened to him.

Against her better judgment (Y/n) let it slip one night to her best friend what is happening and what is at stake, advising that her usual slaking won't be good for her and to work harder for a while, at least until this passes. However, not long after that, she noticed how most of the nurses are starting to work harder than usual, at first she thought that maybe a rumor started about the reevaluation.

Then the bullying started, not bullying more like sabotaging.

Her colleagues started taking jobs that are meant for her, forcing her to just stand there confused about what to do or finding herself messing up medicine labels or breaking expensive equipment, which she got quite the lash for from Dr. Hugo Strange, Dr. Amadeus was strict but Dr. Hugo was ruthless, after berating her in front of her colleagues, who she caught glimpse of them snickering as she was yelled at, she ran to the bathroom where she cried herself for the rest of the shift not bothering to leave to do her work because she knew it that the other nurses were already taking her job and leaving her with nothing.

(Y/n) didn't know how long she's been there crying but she guessed it's been a very long time because a knocking on the door pulled her out and made her look around her and from the orange light that is coming out of the small bathroom window she knew it was near sunset, which means she has to leave soon. Another knock sounded and she was planning to ignore it but then a familiar face called…

"(Y/n), are you in there?" It was Dr. Crane. "You.. uhh .. Friends .. told me they saw you go in here…. I.. I also heard of what happened with Dr. Hugo… I'm sorry I wasn't there to stop him."

From the other side, Jonathan heard nothing, and doubt started to set in about if his little nurse was truly in there or not, after all, he didn't trust those other women to really keep an eye on her or even care for her. He was tempted to open the door and look inside not caring that it was a women's bathroom but he stopped when he heard the water start and a few splashes, he quickly stood back and waited patiently, and the sight that greeted him broke his heart. Even though (Y/n) tried to clean her face he could still tell that she was crying from her buffy red eyes, her slightly messy hair and dress, and the small sniffles that she tried to hide poorly.

"Oh, my dear…"

He said as he came closer with open arms to wrap around her and comfort her, which thankfully she didn't push away. She buried herself in his chest and sobbed quietly, and Jonathan said nothing as he rubbed her back in a calming matter, knowing full well that what she needed now is to let it out, at the same time he was doing his best to push away that feeling of guilt he felt and only held his little nurse tighter.

---

"I… I'm sorry for ruining your coat… *Sniff*.."

"Don't worry about it." he said as he hung the coat, which had tear stains.

Dr. Crane then walked to the small drink station in the corner of his office and came back with something for her.

"Is that (F/c/d)?" She asked surprised.

"Yeah." He replied a bit bashfully. "I hope you don't take this the wrong way, but I might have seen you drink it after every shift you had so I thought it must have been your favorite after a hard day, so I bought some."

(Y/n) was stunned at first and she didn't know if she should feel embarrassed or flattered for being noticed by the doctor in such a way. As she took a sip of the drink she noticed how the doctor had a gentle smile but his eyes were looking at her with pity.

"… How did you know about Dr. Hugo?" She finally asked as she averted her eyes down to the drink.

Dr. Crane was silent for a moment, he was finding it difficult to explain himself, mostly hesitant if he should tell her or not how he found out.

"The other doctors and I were having a meeting about the evaluation… and .. Dr. Hugo came in with a pile of files, saying that they were the nurses who should be let go." He started explaining. "…Your name was in there…"

That made her look at him with horror in her eyes.

"I tried to plead your case, I even showed evidence of your amazing work, but Hugo seemed to have other evidence that said otherwise."

"What evidence?"

"He somehow obtained some proofs that you were "Slacking", which-"

"I wasn't slacking!" She exclaimed. "The other nurses won't let me do my job! They take everything from me, and if I refused to give up the task they would sabotage me! And.. AND!-"

"(Y/n)! Calm down! Breath, dear!"

Dr, Crane stood up from his desk to walk around and give her a handkerchief and that's when (Y/n) realized she was crying again, her frustration and anger at what she was hearing overwhelmed her, and the knowledge of knowing that she can't do anything about it, that it was too late angered her even more to the level of crying it out. She took the handkerchief and wiped her tears as she tried to calm down because she already cried enough today. There was silence as the kind doctor rubbed her back in a soothing manner waiting for her to calm down.

"I know you are not at fault." He finally said. "You are a hardworking and dedicated person, when my eyes laid on you the first time I knew you were able to do so many without a fail or hesitation, that's why I wanted you to work by me so much."

His words made her look up at him and give him a weak smile, and she knew if she wasn't feeling so sad now she would have probably ended up as a blushing mess about what he said.

"… Thank you, doctor."

He just nodded as he continued to rub her back, and she didn't mind the considered touches.

"… I'm going to be fired, aren't I?"

"Unfortunately, yes."

"When will it happen?"

"Next week probably."

"… I see."

(Y/n) put her drink down and stood up, which forced the doctor to pull away.

"Thank you for everything doctor." She said with a smile, despite the redness of her eyes. "I think I will head home now."

She said as she gave the handkerchief back to her and turned around to the door. The doctor stood there for a moment wondering what to say next.

"Wait, where are you going?"

"Hmm… First I will clean up my locker, then I will take my first early leave, along with using what's left of my vacation days, I think I have more than just a week, but oh well." She shrugged accepting the reality of the situation.

"(Y/n), Wait I-"

"It's alright Dr. Crane." She assured. "There is nothing we can do about it, I will find another job somewhere else, everything will be fine in the end, and thank you for everything, Goodbye."

She exited the office and headed to the locker room, not noticing the doctor's struggle to call her but giving up in the end. Along her way, she went past her colleagues who giggled as they looked at her with an evil glint in their eyes, but she ignored them and paused for a moment when she heard the conversation that was happening in the locker room with multiple of her colleagues.

"For real?"

"Yup!"

"How did you know?"

"I hear Dr, Hugo talk about in the hallways with one of the doctors, (Y/n) will be fired."

"Hahaha! Oh my god, I can't believe it actually worked!"

"Yeah, thank god you told us about this revaluation."

"Don't mention it." That voice… It was her best friend. "I knew tolerating being around that girl would pay off, especially after seeing how cozy she was being with Dr, Crane."

"I can't believe she was ready to throw us under the bus like that, how trashy."

"I told you million times but you girls never listen." She lectured. "Her type of people won't give you what you want unless you act nice to them and then they will do everything you want, including hooking you up with how to save your job."

"You are so mean!"

Everyone laughed in unison, and that's when (Y/n) slammed the door open, ignoring the gasps and startled screams that echoed in the room as she made her way to her locker. She could feel the atmosphere thickens as everyone looks at each other awkwardly, knowing full well that she heard them. Ignoring all of them she started collecting her belongings silently, good thing she doesn't bring unnecessary stuff. As she closed the locker and started walking out she stopped in front of her so-called "Best Friend" who was stunned but tried to give a stiff smile.

"H.. Heyyy….girl-"

"Stop." (Y/n) sternly, causing the other woman to flinch and grow silent again. "Congratulations on keeping your position as a nurse and getting me fired with your friends here… and I wonder how long are you gonna keep it."

"What?" she asked in bewilderment.

"In the way that Gotham is headed, I'm sure there would be even crazier people to deal with." (Y/n) started explaining. "I mean, look at the last guy on the news, what was his name?... Yeah the scarecrow, and I'm sure there are many like him in the making."

"That just means more money for us." She replied quickly making the other laugh as if (Y/n) was being stupid.

"Did you forget the original reason why they are letting people go in the first place?" they were all stunned by her confidence, which scared them.

"They want to cut back for a while-"

"Wrong." (Y/n) interrupted. "They want more muscle, more strong people to be able to hold and drag the new inmates if need be, do you think your manicured nails and fragile self can handle that."

That made everyone shut up, (Y/n) turned to look at everyone else around her.

"The next revaluation will come soon, and when it does… who will you trust I wonder."

With that said she exited the room leaving behind her the group of toxic women who looked at each other suspiciously, but the one who got the most glares was her "Best Friend".

When she finally reached home she saw the eviction notice on the door, she was already behind and now without her job, she won't be able to. she just sighed and went inside so she can cry herself to sleep, not noticing the figure that was watching her from the corner before it disappeared.

---

"We have been observing your work for the past couple of months and noticed how your performance has been lacking, which forced your colleagues to pick up after you, therefore we decided that you are no longer needed."

That was what doctor Asmadeus said as he continued the pressure of firing (Y/n), there were moments when she wanted to defend herself against the accusations thrown at her but decided against it as they might take it as a sign that it was all true. She turned around and gave one last look at the building and from afar on one of the windows she caught the sight of Dr. Crane who waved goodbye to her and she smiled and waved back to him.

Before she left the doctor hurried to her side and gave her a card with his number on it when asked why he said she could use him as a reference for future jobs because he is sure that if she used any of the other doctor's info they might say some…. Harsh things, which would lower her chances of getting a new job, and (Y/n) was grateful for him.

She really liked Dr. Crane, not just as a coworker or friend, but far more than that, before all of this had happened she was contemplating whether she should tell him or not, aside from the hesitation she was also waiting for the right moment to blur it out but then all of that had happened and now as she made her way to the bus stop she thought it would be a miracle if she even saw the doctor again.

---

Who knew a miracle can happen so soon only one week after?

It was during grocery shopping that she met the doctor. They talked for a bit catching up on everything new that happened, Doctor Crane told her of how more trouble shown with the nurses after she left, a lot of lacking and sabotaging, and because of it, they started considering firing all of them and replacing them with strong men to handle the patients better, which made (Y/n) bite her tongue and wonder if what she said to them before she left had anything to do with all of it. When he asked her about herself she was tempted to say that everything was great, but she couldn't.

She started confessing how she has been struggling to find a job, and how she might lose her home as well because of it. Doctor Crane was sympathetic to her, but his frown quickly turned into a smile as he thought of an idea.

"You can come to my building!" He exclaimed.

"What?"

"The building I live in I mean…" He started to explain. "We got open apartments, the rent is cheap, and I know the landlord personally I can ask him to ease up on you for a while until you are up on your feet again."

"Oh no, I can't possibly ask you to go through so much trouble for me-"

"It's not and I insist." He replied refusing a no for an answer.

"I… I don't know what to say…"(Y/n) stuttered. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it, dear, we can talk about this tomorrow if you want." He hesitated for a moment before continuing with a bashful smile. "Maybe over lunch? I know a good diner."

That took (Y/n) by surprise, looking away for a moment embarrassed and hoping that her blush wasn't showing, not believing that he was actually asking her out now, she still wondered if it was because he was interested or if it was genuinely to talk about the apartments, but none the less smiled back and agreed to meet him for lunch.

---

Almost a month had passed since (Y/n) moved into her new apartment, which was a floor apart from Doctor Cra- … Jonathan's. He had insisted that she stops addressing him so formally since they are now friends and neighbors now and it has been a blessing. They meet by the stairs almost every morning, Jonathan going to work and her going to job interviews, which each one failed. She never understood what she had done wrong even checked her resume with Jonathan and he said there was nothing wrong, another reason was that she wasn't comfortable with the people in charge and didn't want to set around and find out why.

The thing that has been keeping her positive is when her and Jonathan meet up at the diner, which is rare considering how late he has to work, so she always looks forward to it, even if they only went as friends. (Y/n) tried many times to build up the courage to confess her feelings for the doctor, but every time she would get scared, and worried because of the possibility of him not returning her feelings, and ruining what is between them now.

She sighed as she entered the building and made her way up the stairs, thinking of ways to make this crush of hers die when she heard a distance groaning, she paused waiting to make sure what she heard was true and it came again a distance groan of pain followed by a fall, feelings it as an instinct (Y/n) ran up the stairs as fast as she could and she was not ready for the sight that greeted her.

"Ugh… (Y/- (Y/n)?"

Jonathan's weak voice asked, and she didn't blame him for asking for his glasses were missing and his right eye was bruised, his lower lip is busted, his clothes were torn and ruffled up, he was supporting his left arm, which she was afraid is broken and from his struggle to stand up but making it all the way here she can tell that it was probably twisted.

"Jonathan!" She exclaimed as she hurried to his side, helping him rest on the stairsteps properly, earning a pained groan in response. "What happened?!"

"Burglars." He answered. "They cornered me after I got out of my car."

"Oh god…" (Y/n) said as she examined him further, noticing the bruises hidden by his shirt. "We need to get you to a hospital-"

"No need." He interrupted her. "I.. I just need to get back to my apartment, I got everything I need there."

"But your arm, what if it was broken."

"Believe me it's not, I would know." He joked, trying to make light of the situation, but (Y/n) didn't smile.

"At least let me help you, please."

Jonathan wanted to say something but gave in and allowed her to take his good arm and flung it around her neck as she supported him to go up the stairs and into his apartment. (Y/n) been to his apartment before so after helping him set on the sofa she went to the cabin where Jonathan kept his medical tools and medicine and she hurried back to him doing her best to treat him. In her focus she didn't notice how the doctor was not breaking his stare, admiring the young woman, it wasn't until she decided to pay attention to his busted lower that she realized his lingering stares, which made a red blush show on her cheeks and her hand to slightly shake.

"H… How are you feeling?" She asked trying to shift the mood.

"I'm better now." He answered still not breaking eye contact.

"Are you sure?... isn't there any type of pain?"

"With your gentle care? Never."

There he goes again with his sweet words that made her heart skip a beat. (Y/n) held her tongue and said nothing as she did one last check on him.

"You thankfully don't have any broken bones or torn muscles but that doesn't mean you don't need to rest." She said before standing up. "I advice you to skip work for a while until you get better."

"R… Right, thank you."

"You are welcome."

Jonathan looked troubled, he looked at her and then at the ground as he was struggling to say something, or more like hesitant. (Y/n) stood there for a while, waiting for him to say anything, but after almost a minute passed with nothing she started cleaning the place.

"I will put the meds away and-"

"Will you be my nurse?!"

He blurted it so suddenly catching (Y/n) off guard, she stared at him with wide confused eyes, not sure if what she heard was right.

"What?"

"I… I was asking .. If you would like to be my nurse." He explained hesitantly. "A personal nurse, Not a servant! Of course not, I mean you would be helping me when I need you but only when I'm hurt no other things."

(Y/n) stood there for a moment, processing what he just said, which made Jonathan's anxiety ride with every moment of silence, then she finally talked.

"…Why?"

"Well, You see, I'm actually really accident-prone, and sometimes like now, I can be a magnet for trouble."

He gave a small laugh as he averted his eyes, which made (Y/n) pity him because she remembers the bruises he came with in the past, the bandages would be done wrong and it's understandable since he can't possibly do it with an injured arm or shoulder, she always asked him what happened but he always changed the subject and she didn't push, just offered her help.

"How often does this happen?" she asked gesturing to his body.

"More than you think." He answered. "Some days I can go with a couple of bruises, others I have to take a few days off until I'm sure I won't lose my balance when I stand."

His voice became sad at the end as he looked down at his now bandaged foot.

"It can be really difficult I won't lie, But!" He looked back at her with a spark in his eyes. "When you came along it made it easier, not only are you brilliant and talented in your work, but you are also very kind and sweet. Seeing your comforting smile never failed to make me forget about my sour day."

(Y/n)'s eyes widened at his confession and from the blush that was growing on Jonathan's face as he averted his eyes she guessed it was genuine and sudden even for him.

"You don't have to answer now, think about it and take all the time you need." He said still not meeting her eyes as he picked on his bandaged hand.

The doctor was always this serious man, who always stood tall refusing to show any weakness, and for (Y/n) to see him allowing himself to be vulnerable and act all shy around him gave her mixed feelings, because she didn't know if she wanted to admire him further, or her herself would also become a ball of shyness because all of this is almost overwhelming for her. However, she needed to think about this seriously, she has just been offered a job by her previous supervisor to be a personal nurse, and despite her knowing the doctor well and trusting him, it still felt strange and wrong for some reason.

"… How will you be able to pay me?" She finally asked, this caught his attention and made him straighten up and set his work mode.

"Don't worry, having you as my personal nurse won't have any effect on my finance if that's what your concern is." When he saw the dissatisfaction in her eyes with his answer her explained. "Let's just say that I have good money saved up that with it I could even leave Gotham for good if I wanted to."

"Then why don't you?"

"Well, at first it was because I liked my job… but now…" He gave her a soft look as he smiled. "I have a different reason to stay."

(Y/n)’s eyes widened slightly at his implications as a blush started to form on her face. He can’t be saying what she thought he was trying to say? It almost feels too good to be true. Not trusting herself to stay any longer, fearing that she would embarrass herself in some way, (Y/n) started to collect her things and made sure to keep the medicine close to Jonathan and brought him the tea that she prepared when they first came back.

“I’ll leave you to rest, please sleep well.”

She said as she put the tea cup down but before she could pull away the doctor grasped her hand gently forcing her to look at him, her eyes meeting his own that looked at her with such adoration.

“Promise me to think about it?” He asked hopefully.

“I…I will…” she replied with a small smile.

“Very well.” He said before leaning in to kiss the back of her hand. “Good night, my dear.”

“G..G…GOOD NIGHT!”

(Y/n) Yelped out before pulling her hand away as if she was electrocuted and marched outside the apartment to her own. While she was lecturing herself on how she basically ran away from the doctor, Jonathan was chuckling to himself, finding her sudden reaction adorable. He stood up with ease, showing no hint of previous weakness, making his way to the mirror to admire the bandages and patches that his beloved little nurse treated him with.

Oh, she was so sweet, so so sweet maybe even too sweet for Gotham, but that’s where he comes in. He will be her protector, her aid, and soon her love. Jonathan knew from the first time he saw her work that she was too talented and brilliant to be working under anyone else but himself, but he never expected to grow a soft side for her, and for that soft side to become full-on possessiveness and obsession. She filled his every thought, whenever she got too far away from him he became relentless, and he will not start on the jealousy he felt when her attention was on someone other than himself, but he knew she couldn't help it, she is an innocent person who always made friends along her way.

That's why it hurt to see the sad look in her face when he let it "slip" that (Y/n) knew of the revaluation, he was going to make it pass as a rumor because he knew the true nature of the other nurses who worked there, that they will drive (Y/n) away for his plans to work, but he didn't think his dear was too kind that she would not head his warning and tell her supposed "friend" of it all. In the end, it worked for his favor, because she turned to him for comfort and trusted only him.

He almost asked her to be his nurse on the same day she was fired, but it was good that he held back for a while for her to be disparate for work enough, and when she told him that she needed a new home, it was as if fate herself was making sure that their paths would intertwine into one path that they would walk through together.

Yes, it was all meant to be this way.

(Y/n) is meant to be his, his sweet innocent nurse, who'd take care of him and always be by his side. His alone.

He just needs to continue this act of a helpless man a bit more before opening himself for her, maybe with time he'd even tell her about his "side job". But not now or anytime soon. For now, he just needs to focus on making sure that in the end (Y/n) would fall into his arms.

Even if he needs to take extreme measures, he will have her.

---

I hope everyone enjoyed this story and again sorry if it's too late.

#jonathan crane x reader #scarecrow x reader #Yanadere Jonathan crane x reader

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theneighborhoodwatch · 3 months ago

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something funny I noticed is that some of the commercials were selling adult products (tobacco, sleeping aid…) even though in-universe Welcome Home is a children’s show. I find it a bit odd since I can’t think of any real life examples of children’s media using their image to sell products like those.

hiiii let's pretend i'm not answering this 5 months later lol

iirc, the hooplah/tobacco ad Seems to have been a reference to this series of flintstones winston cigarette commercials - although in the flintstones' defense, it was not Necessarily considered children's programming around the time that these would have aired. i was going to write about how with this angle it feels very similar to how wally's interview is discussed in this ask (i.e. putting a character that Looks muppet-y/retro enough in a scenario designed to be reminiscent of those properties to demonstrate just how Unlike them they are, despite appearances) in addition to maybe demonstrating the slow and steady but Alarming approach of an appeal to advertisers taking priority over artistic integrity (especially given that hooplah products were also directly advertised to children, albeit not Actual cigarettes lol) yknow, like - start with something that is grounded enough in reality that any concerns can be be quickly brushed off with "eh, product of its time i guess" and then have the horror escalate in such a way that it makes you ask why you ever accepted the initial event(s) to begin with.

but i wonder about an alternative possibility... i wonder if it's a sign of welcome home - the show - yearning for some kind of maturity, but only being able to imitate either a child's frame of reference for what an adult is, or a corporation's. with all the comparisons people make between ronald dorelaine and jim henson in speculation, i wonder if dorelaine (or whoever was running the show) did want to eventually take welcome home in a more mature direction, but felt that he would never be able to do so, either because there was pressure to keep welcome home the same program it was when it first aired, Or because if welcome home Did eventually go down that more mature route, it would have only been allowed to grow into one specific Type of maturity that did not completely suit any of the characters involved. that no matter what he did it would have been just a little bit off for at least one neighbor although that's not to say things aren't still off Now lol. i wonder about a lot of things....

#strawberryxfieldz #welcome home #wh speculation #ask #im remembering some old posts in which clown talks about his dissatisfaction wrt how disney's handled the muppets under their care #specifically the 2015 reboot/its failure to really give the muppets back that 'maturity'#hm...

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brf-rumortrackinganon · 6 months ago

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“Allegedly Meghan doesn't have Archie's real birth certificate because the palace is holding it hostage and she couldn't enroll him in school without it to verify his age.” You’re right, this is bunk. Even for legit nursery school/ daycare centers in the U.S., you have to provide a record of birth which I’m sure England has and would provide upon request. During The Cut interview she goes to pick him up from school so he goes somewhere. Also, they’d need to provide vaccination records which would also have his real birth date on it. Her lying really is pathological.

Also, I’ve always wondered what happened to the OB/GYN that closed without notice right after Lil Sam’s birth? The timing and circumstances were really odd.

I think people are misunderstanding the story about the school needing the birth certificate.

So to register kids for school here in the US, parents need to provide the school with the birth certificate that validates the child is who the parents say they are and their age so they can check vaccination records. Perfectly normal.

Meghan has claimed that when she went to register Archie for a school, she was told that Archie could not be registered because the school needed the original birth certificate and Meghan had only a copy.

A copy. A facsimile. A put-the-document-on-the-glass-scanner-and-press-the-green-button-to-duplicate copy. No watermarks, no raised edges, no bumpy ink from pen signature, no seals, no "if you hold this document at an angle, you should see X" lettering. Not an original copy of the birth certificate, a plain ol' printed on computer paper copy.

Because, as Meghan's PR claimed, the royal family had the original birth certificate and kept it under lock and key at Buckingham Palace and wouldn't let her have it. (The same way she claimed to Oprah that Buckingham Palace confiscated her car keys and passport after the wedding.) That there was some restriction or palace order that prevented her from possessing her own son's legal identification paperwork or requesting an authorized copy of the birth certificate.

If the Sussexes had an original copy of the birth certificate, there really isn't an issue, because it's a verified, authorized, certified, registered document.

But the fact that there was an issue with the Sussexes having a copy of the birth certificate, that suggests they didn't have the right copy, just a copy and a copy was deemed insufficient. Rather than taking accountability for a mistake (an easy one to make if it's your first child so no one honestly would've cared), Meghan blamed the BRF because that's what she does.

Which is problematic for three reasons:

She's the best mother to ever mother, and she's such a mama bear when it comes to her kids, but she can't 'mama bear up' to demand the BRF stop withholding her (and her son's) own legal documentation? Sure, ok Jan.

It's a mistake that's easily fixed by calling the registrar's office or Clarence House and asking for help. But instead she told a friend, and had the friend leak it, that the big bad BRF is withholding Archie's paperwork. She'd rather perpetuate drama for another media cycle than let things go.

It brings up all the original drama about Archie's birth and birth certificate, and the original questions about his legitimacy in the Line of Succession. And if we're discussing the issues with Archie's birth, might as well discuss the concerns about Lili's birth too, like how suddenly the doctor closed up practice and left town - just like this anon did with their ask.

So bringing up Archie's birth and birth certificate is really an own goal at this point.

(And anon who asked what happened with the original birth certificate, I still have your ask. It's buried somewhere in the inbox. I'll see if I can hunt it down this week.)

#sussexes #birth certificate

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zedxspacess · 6 months ago

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One thing I've noticed that only a few have pointed out is how involved Nigel McGuinness has become with Christian Cage and Adam Copeland's stories, but particularly, Cope's lately. Like, sure, it started out as a funny running gag of Nigel being Christian's number 1 simp and burying anyone who's against Christian, but it's become more than that, I feel. The way it's evolved is interesting to me.

When Cope also acknowledged Nigel's antics really stepped it up a notch. Nigel started to bury Cope in matches where Christian isn't even involved in. Somewhere along the line it moved on from Christian+Nigel against Cope, to just Nigel and Cope by themselves having beef. All while House of Black have been tempting Cope to embrace his darker side, there's also Nigel's voice in the comms needling and questioning Cope's intentions, almost like a devil on his shoulder, adding more to the pressure.

Then, Nigel was the first one to properly explain why Malakai Black stole Cope's wedding ring when their in-ring segment didn't explain Malakai's motives too well. As if in kayfabe, Nigel understood Copeland on a level others didn't. And during the cage match, Nigel was just on fire explaining the story and emotions going through Cope. I died laughing when Nigel proclaimed Cope is "one of us now", the crowning moment of the heel commentator who's been teasing Copeland in the comms for weeks, finally welcoming Cope to the heels' side. Though it still didn't stop him from ribbing Cope because he's still got an axe to grind.

I don't know if Nigel's been involved with the writing or Cope is sharing notes for him to say on comms, but I like this concept of commentators being involved in a wrestler's story. We've had some of that in the past like Taz and Hook, and now Nigel with Christian+Cope (and hopefully Bryan). Because while the full time commentary team are a part of the show, they still feel removed from the in-ring storytelling or angles; they're just observers to the show and aren't supposed to be in storylines or affect them. But what I liked about Cope and Nigel here, and what really made it stand out to me, is that Nigel still felt involved in the story without having to move a single inch from the announce desk. No prerecorded segment, no in ring segment, no stepping into the ring, which were all things Taz and Jim Ross did when they were commentators put in storylines. It's all just subtle, natural character work and dialogue through the commentary and ringside banter. It's a little detail that you could ignore and be entertained by the angle just fine, but to me, their little side feud was a sprinkle on top. It's similar to Nigel's approach with Bryan Danielson, all the development is happening outside the ring or segments, its just commentary or the odd interview. Just goes to show how unique wrestling could be as a medium of storytelling.

#makes me sad Nigel and Cope can't have a match out of this #maybe. depending on wembley and if nigel will ever perform again #this analysis may or may not be overblown bc i have a bias #txt #wrestling #nigel mcguinness #adam copeland #aew

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randomfoggytiger · 16 days ago

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Once again, you have done a wonderful analysis. I was the person who asked about the status of their relationship in Dreamland and Arcadia. 👏 great work!

I don't know if you have been asked this before, but I am going to ask anyway.

If you were to teach a class on the Xfiles for critical thinking and analysis, how would you want to structure the course? What episodes would be your "go-to" and what aspect of analysis would be your focus? Where would be a good starting point for the uninitiated?

You offer enough evidence that the show can be used for film analysis, writing, critical thinking, argumentation, creative writing, etc., so it is very plausible to use the XFiles as a medium to get students, or just the everyday person, motivated to think in ways that they may not normally practice.

I am inspired by your analysis of the asks that you share with your audience.

I think this my answer is both simple and complex, depending on which angle you want to tackle.

Simply: The X-Files is a masterclass in failure; and I mean that quite neutrally. There were cracks embedded in the foundation since Season 1-- a lack of show bible, a lack of narrative cohesion, a lack of attention to important detail, a lack of conclusive vision despite the aspirational visions-- that deepened with each new mystery box, each new twist, each new "the truth is out there, but it's not the truth we said it was a week ago, this time it's different" bend. Even more simply put, it is a deeply broken, deeply flawed series because its premise-- a shadowy conspiracy that cloaked alien interference and abductions-- was probably never intended to be more than that. But each new idea was more tantalizing than the last; and the more the show explored new territory, the more it sketched out an inescapable map. And soon, there was no new place to run.

Complexly: The X-Files is a masterclass in failure because despite all its faults, its flaws, its frailties, its downright ham-fisted or shocking plot points, the crew's talent was insane.

Not just David and Gillian-- though their chemistry's the stuff of legends-- but Mitch Pileggi, Nic Lea, the returning and supporting actors, the writers, the directors, the costume designers, the behind the scenes people, everyone poured their heart and soul and best into this series (until Season 7, which drained everyone, on and off set, of their investment.) It could, should have been so much worse-- it could have been canceled after its first season, it could have been canceled after the first few episodes, it could have been canceled after the ending in Season 1. Yet, in spite of DD and GA's green acting, and the more fixed direction, and the odd angle or odd script moment or odd lighting choice, there was talent-- sheer undeniable talent-- that was thrown in... maybe not everyday, but most days. And even more complexly, Chris Carter-- for all the faults that can be levied at his later work or behavior towards long-time friend Gillian-- fostered that talent. He was a generous executive producer; and once he formed loyalties, he stuck to them. In all the past interviews I've read, his writers and actors and crew admired his work ethic and trusted his judgment. And, while it wasn't the best judgment to guide the juggernaut of this immense series, he handled immense, buckling pressure so well that, by and large, he passed himself and his writing off as the stuff of legends... until, of course, it inevitably blew apart and plunged downward. But that's a risk he took; and the show did incredibly well while it soared.

Putting the two together: if I were to use this show as a teaching tool, I'd divide it into segments: the MOTW and the mytharc. The MOTW is where the show shines brightest, and what it's most remembered for by the vast majority of its viewers (and the populace.) Here, I could prove what incredible talent and dedication and drive can do: what generosity and fostering of ability, what openness to ideas, what creativity pushed to its max would inspire. How Squeeze-Tooms succeeded but Pusher-Kitsunegari failed; how to handle a skeptic-believer dynamic believably; how one show contained a multitude of tones, and played with them expertly (from drama to horror to sci-fic to comic to romantic to adventure to etc.); how to sensitively (or try to) push forward an idea that needs to be solved, in our world, without choking the audience with moralistic spoon-feeding. How and why (and when) a show can do all these things in one breath and utterly embarrass itself in another (looking at you, Fight Club.) That would then lead me into my second point: what the consequences of that would look like-- scripts written the night before (perhaps even the day of) filming; actors and crew pushed to their exhausted limit; one man creating more and more and more shows-- because he doesn't trust his first one will go on forever-- instead of focusing that incredible drive and effort to cleanly outline his pet project. Lastly, I'd shift into the perfect demonstration of The X-Files's rises and falls: its mytharc How the MOTW idea existed, in its infancy, in the Pilot; that the convoluted, ever-evolving plot didn't take shape and fly until the scope of ideas grew greater and greater; how that spawned an incredible mythos (or the potential of an incredible mythos); and how that mythos, for the most part, carefully danced a line that could have enraged many different factions of society and many different points. An elegant, slimmed conspiracy, at first, that took time to highlight important issues-- government overreach, abuse of power, coercive or vindictive control-- until it devolved into trite statements, repetition instead of invention, without firmer substance. Until the writers didn't have any land left to explore, turned around, and realized they'd flown into a corner. Then they threw a smokescreen-- a new tragedy or drama onscreen-- and hoped the audience would be blinded to the trick, once again. And, ultimately, how that lack of trust in the audience was a greater sin than their ability to finish the show satisfactorily.

If I were to step back, though, I think The X-Files could prove any point you want to prove: the struggle of the artistic vs. the executive, the reality of expectation vs. creative vision, the high of a meeting of minds between an ideas man and his audience, the impropriety of expecting fan loyalty yet shoveling them slop, the deevolution of a beloved franchise through disengaged interest and floundering quality, the importance (the sheer, indisputable importance) of writing well if nothing else, etc. etc. etc. I don't think I'd get into the Chris Carter issue, though. That area of drama is locked away from all but the most interested (in my case, over-invested); and it wouldn't be productive to bring into a classroom, seminar, or what have you. Unless, of course, I were teaching psychology. ;))))

Personally, I would divide the show into its sequential leaps forward: the time Chris Carter insisted on casting David and Gillian for their chemistry; the time Morgan and Wong pitched the show's first creature episode; the time Rob Bowman insisted on trying something different while directing; the time DD started writing, then directing, under the show's tutelage; the time GA wrote out her own script and directed it; the time Kim Manners or Rob Bowman or Vince Gilligan (or Spotnitz) pushed for overtly romantic moments between Mulder and Scully; the time 1013 and the show's theme and the UFO poster and the smoking man became international iconography, etc. All of these elements echo back to Chris Carter as a competent helmsman, and showcase him (and the show) at his best. Then, I'd pivot to the creative toll: the time crunch, the stress, the media speculation, the lack of privacy or a life, the ever divided attention-- that the most glamorized years of the show were also the most brutalizing (FTF and Season 5 filmed consecutively; and back to back with Season 4.) Finally, I'd focus on the sudden tone shift, pivot, and recovery of Season 6, 7, 8, and some parts of 9; and how each of the last three seasons suffered from the same fate: fresh new mysteries, failed follow-through, and catastrophic fatalities until the writers hit the emergency "Reset" button again. And that that pattern continued, irrevocably, for a movie and another two years.

But most importantly: I'd use any scene, any episode, any season to prove that all this profound effort-- time, blood, sweat, and tears-- can create giants... and can tear them back down when the foundations crack and give way. Until, in short, the writing, the one aspect holding everything together, falls apart. And without the writing, there is no final act, there is no happy landing-- there is only a man caught in the act, reprimanding you for looking behind the curtain.

Hope this helps! :DDDDD

#asks #anon #took me a bit!#this is a little all over the place #but I wanted to be as broadly thorough as possible #xf meta #mine #thoughts #this was such an intriguing question-- thank you! :DDDD #couldn't think of specific examples... probably because the show itself is so segmented #I could teach different courses on it forever and ever #or at least a very long time ;))))

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jmagnabo92 · 7 months ago

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The Star-Crossed Lovers Angle

Alright, I'm re-reading the hunger games, and it just occurred to me that there's no way the star-crossed lovers thing came up just before the interview prep day.

The reason I think this is because Cinna/Portia already planned for them to be a proper duo - in fact, Cinna tells them to hold hands in the opening ceremonies, they are dressed alike every day, and are told to act like they're friends and a duo throughout everything.

This all leads up to Peeta's 'big confession' that supposedly makes Katniss desireable. (For the record, I think Katniss would've gotten the attention and sponsors she did with/without all that - she had a lot going for her).

That said, they either would've had to plan the star-crossed lovers thing all along OR maybe they figured at least 'friends' and losing one another would lead to rebellion somehow? Haymitch says 'the hand holding added a touch of rebellion' and it seems like there was that obvious lead that he had chosen Katniss to live. (She probably had the best odds with the way she started out by volunteering).

So, did they plan to 'use friends' or did Peeta admit to his feelings when he cleaned up Haymitch / before Katniss joined them for breakfast on the train? Could Haymitch/Cinna/the rebellion been planning to use her (and anything they could get out of Peeta) and it just worked out?

I don't think 'just friends' would've worked because some of the tributes become friends or at least care because they're from home (ala what Johanna says in CF). So, now I am wondering WHEN Peeta confessed or if they always planned on having Peeta lie or something if he hadn't been crushing on her?

Thoughts?

#katniss everdeen #peeta mellark #Cinna #haymitch abernathy #THG #The Hunger Games

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viktorybell · 2 years ago

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Tight Spaces

Jayce x Viktor x GN!Reader

Word Count: 3.8k (EXACTLY 3.8k I will never achieve this again.)

Warning: slightly suggestive at the end, but that’s it

Ask: is it ok if i request some poly jayce and viktor x reader? if you dont do poly just jayce is fine =] maybe the reader is an artist and they love drawing their crush(es) but because theyre a journalist they cant normally show off their art, but while at the lab one day, the other notices their sketchbook and asks to flip through it - and reader, forgetting that its a sketchbook and not a notebook for articles, says yes. after that, everythings up to you >=]

You’ve always been good with tight spaces. It’s part of what makes you one of Piltover’s most prolific reporters. You’re willing to go places that the majority of the prim n’ proper Piltover journalists wouldn’t dare. Which is partly because you grew up in a shabby neighborhood on the edges of the Undercity and partly because you were just a damn good reporter.

Growing up in the Undercity was integral for developing your reporter skills. You didn’t have many toys or trinkets to fill your time with, so you found alternative ways for filling your afternoons as a child. Alternative ways meaning snooping. Creeping around the Lanes and finding new hiding places. Unseen and unnoticed places where you could camp out for an afternoon. Your favorite spot had been a gap in the wall behind Vander’s old bar. You’d sit there for hours, drawing pictures in the dirt with a stick while listening in on the dozens of conversations that felt infinitely more interesting than your life had at the time.

Your start in the Undercity also helped to endear you to a certain renowned inventor with similar origins.

You were in his lab now, sketching out the shape of him and his lab partner where they’ve been hunched over a complicated set of blueprints for the last hour. This is usually how your sessions worked. With you wandering aimlessly around their lab while they bounced between assignments and answering your questions. The drawing was a more recent addition to the routine, though.

Viktor, who was from the Undercity despite the two of you having never met, was a dream to draw. For as much of a show he put on trying to scare you away during your first report, those sharp angles softened pretty quickly when he realized you didn’t startle easy. His long legs and messy hair just inspired the artist in you in a way that you hadn’t felt since you were young. It was like coming home after so long being stuck in the stuffy yet isolating atmosphere of Piltover.

Then there was Viktor’s partner, Jayce Talis. Jayce didn’t feel familiar like his counterpart, but was intriguing and alluring all the same. Where Viktor’s shape took form in sharp, wispy lines, Jayce’s were sturdy and bold. He was comforting and bright, like sunshine after a storm. And wasn’t that the most fitting way to describe it? Jayce had been full of apologies and little jokes during the first meeting between you three. Where Viktor was a little less than welcoming, Jayce doubled down on friendly smiles and encouraging pats on the back.

Not that either of them could scare you away now. You’ve moved far past the awkward first few interviews, your questions stilted and the atmosphere tense with the distrust coming off of Viktor in waves. It was hard to keep up with how many pieces you’ve done on these two so far, you stopped counting when you ran out of fingers to count them on.

Somewhere between your first article on an exclusive Hexbros interview and the piece you’re currently working on talking about the environmental benefits of Hextech technology, the three of you grew close. Viktor was comfortable, like sepia memories drenched in nostalgia. He was a man from the Undercity through and through, tough and resilient despite all the odds. Then there was Jayce, who was his opposite in every way besides how much he cares. He hadn’t needed more than a day to win your favor, it was like he always knew what to say to you. It did things to your brain. Hence why you’re sitting on the couch in their lab and scribbling down their likeness instead of pestering them for answers like you should.

“It’s been an hour and I’ve answered maybe a question and a half for this piece. Should I come back when you two come back down from outer space?” You call out just loud enough for them to hear as you put the finishing touches on your sketch.

“Sure, let me put a pin in our progress on life-saving, world-changing, investigative technology for your silly newspaper questions,” Viktor hums sarcastically, rummaging through his desk drawer for something. To his right, Jayce’s stomach growls loudly.

“Maybe a break wouldn’t be a bad idea,” Jayce grins sheepishly at you while you’re holding back a laugh. “Science can wait for lunch time, right?”

“How quickly you abandon our team when your stomach’s involved,” Viktor comments while moving over to rummage through Jayce’s desk now.

“Hey! I’m not abandoning anybody, ok?” Jayce scoffs, folding his arms defensively. “And besides, Y/N’s a part of the team too at this point.”

“For putting up with your never-ending appetite?” Viktor grins slyly at Jayce.

“I was thinking more for putting up with your attitude, but…” Jayce has to quickly dodge the balled up paper that Viktor beams at his head. It does nothing to dampen the goofy smile that’s burning your eyes from the sheer warmth and fond exasperation it exudes. “Hey! Stop screwing with my stuff!”

“I wouldn’t have to screw with your stuff if you just kept the lab tidy.”

“You’re messier than I am!”

“You cannot prove that.”

“You wanna bet?”

“Girls, girls! You’re both equally as disgusting as the other! Can we stop arguing now?” You groan, shutting your sketchbook and setting it on top of an identical notebook. Identical except for the paper inside that was lined instead of blank. You tried to keep your reporter’s notes and questions separate from the drawings you did as a hobby. Especially when your hobby mostly consisted of drawing the two other men in the room. “What’re you looking for, Viktor?

“My toolkit. The one I use for detailing,” Viktor huffs, knocking the desk drawer he’d been digging through shut. Both you and Jayce could tell in the tense line of his shoulders that he was actually getting frustrated now.

“Do you remember where you put it last?” Jayce asks, his voice softer as he steps closer to Viktor. You don’t think either of them even notice, but as Jayce moves in, Viktor unconsciously sways towards him. For as much as they bicker like an old married couple, they care deeply for each other.

Maybe it was your reporter’s habit of looking into things too much and drawing conclusions, but you’d thought the two were an item. FOR MONTHS. It’d been earth shatteringly awkward when you called Jayce ‘Viktor’s boyfriend’ in front of them and they had instantly stopped their playful arguing to stare at you, jaws dropped. You’d stopped talking outloud about the conclusions you drew from their behavior since then. For your sanity.

Which was probably for the best seeing as, despite their insistence that they were just friends, the two had obvious feelings for each other. It was clear in the way they spoke to each other, understood the other’s eccentricities and adored them for it. You got the feeling that the two didn’t get to fully be themselves often, making it that much more of a privilege that you can sit on their couch and be a part of it, no matter how minor. There was a sick jealous part of you that squeezed in on itself as you watched Jayce rest a hand on the side of Viktor’s arm. You weren’t sure who you’d rather be in that moment, as Jayce leaned in just that much closer, lowering his voice until it was soft enough only the two could hear it.

Notebook. Yes. Reporting. Mhm, yep. You were here to write a report about Hextech. You should probably stop gawking at the two and actually do what you’re paid to do.

Tearing your gaze away, trying to ignore the pit of longing in your gut and give the boys some privacy, you absently reach for your notebooks and pens and they topple to the floor. You roll your eyes as your favorite color pen rolls under the lab’s couch.

Figures.

Getting on your hands and knees, you stack your notebooks and set them back on the coffee table. Then the hard part. You try and slip your arm under the small gap between the couch and the floor. It’s dusty and you try not to think about what you’re touching until you grab something decidedly un-penlike. Wondering what sort of horrific artifact you’ll find under the couch that has clearly never been cleaned under, you’re surprised to pull out the missing toolbox.

“Good find, Y/N!” Jayce cheers, making you jump where you were still kneeling in front of the couch. Turning to look, you find both men staring at you. You hadn’t even realized they stopped talking to watch you fighting for your life trying to find your pen. Aw, damn. Your pen…that thing’s gone forever now.

“Go figure, looking for my pen and I found your toolkit,” You chuckle goodnaturedly as you stand up from the floor, dusting yourself off.

“Our little lab good luck charm strikes again, however can we repay you?” Viktor teases, him and Jayce headed over to your side of the room now. Whatever Jayce had said to him certainly seemed to put him at ease, your face going red as you played Viktor’s words over and over in your mind. You could think of a couple ways he could repay you. Shit, focus, they’re both staring expectantly.

“You can repay me by getting some actual work done while I grab us lunch,” You make a big show of rolling your eyes as you hand over the box. Viktor gasps in mock offense while Jayce makes puppy dog eyes at you.

“Aw, you’re leaving us?” Jayce whines. “But I didn’t even get to read through your notes yet!”

“There’s not even notes to look through yet, we haven’t gotten anything done this last hour,” You point out. Jayce sighs dramatically, his big, sad eyes still staring pathetically back at you. Incapable of resisting, you grab a book off the table and shove it into his chest. “Here, you big baby. You can look through my old notes while I grab you ungrateful wretches some food.”

Jayce flutters his eyelashes and hugs the book to his chest, “Awww, you always know just the things to say!”

Viktor glares over at Jayce, “What? That’s not fair, what am I supposed to read?” Your heart nearly leaps out of your chest as you watch Viktor swipe the other book off the table.

Drawing Viktor and Jayce in the lab wasn’t just a random thing you decided to do today. Your sketch book was almost entirely filled with different sketches of the men from almost every time you visited the lab for the last six months. If either of them looked through your sketch book you’d probably have to quit your job, move countries, and then completely change your identity so nobody will ever know you’re the poor schmuck falling for the brightest minds in Piltover.

“Not that one!” You yelped, quickly trying to snatch the notebook back from Viktor. Unfortunately, Viktor shoots his arm out of reach lightning fast, filling you with dread. Both men look at you in shock. Which quickly gave way into the most devious smirks you’ve ever seen.

“Why? What’s in here that you don’t want us to see, hm?” Viktor practically purrs, half lidded eyes making you stutter over your words.

“What? Nothing! Give it back!” Making another grab for it, this time Jayce swipes it from Viktor and lifts it high up above his head. You could kill him.

“Hmmmm, I dunno, Viktor. Sounds like there’s something pretty important in here,” Jayce has his free hand on his hip, carrying on a casual conversation with his partner as you jump up and down. You’re getting nowhere with snatching your notebook back. “Maybe we should keep it safe while our darling reporter gets lunch?”

“Oh how kind, Jayce! You wouldn’t mind, would you, doll?” Viktor hums at you. He’s not hiding his amusement at your struggle at all as Jayce chuckles and wiggles the book out of your reach.

Your face is burning from the energy you’re wasting trying to jump as high as you can and also because maybe you’re a little flustered. You’d almost missed the pet names the two had given you. Almost. It wasn’t helping out with your situation at all, though. Focus, time to think of a different tactic.

Neither inventor was prepared for you to take a running start and leap onto Jayce.

“Woah!” Jayce borderline squeaks as he immediately lets go of both books to wrap his arms around you. His big, strong arms that are built with muscle from all the time he spends in the forge. Big, strong arms that are wrapped around your waist to stop you from slipping where you're hanging from his shoulders. You almost don’t even notice that he dropped your books, too caught up in the sheer heat radiating off of him. “Are you ok??”

This hadn’t been your plan.

Originally, you had planned to just climb him until you reached the book, but now with your notebook free and one of the two most handsome men at the academy holding you tight…could you really call it a failed plan?

Right. Jayce asked you a question. And he was staring at you in shock. Viktor was doing the same. OK, yeah, time to be normal. You could do that…right?

After untangling yourself from Jayce’s arms and hopping to the ground, you snatch up your notebook and give the boys a sheepish smile.

“Oh geez, no idea what came over me, guys! Probably just hangry, I’ll go grab that lunch now, enjoy the old notes!” You manage to just duck out of the room as both scientists open their mouths to say something. The bang of the lab door slamming shut has never sounded so sweet before.

It’s a herculean task to not replay that awkward interaction over and over in your head. Feeling tortured as it plays through again and again in your mind’s eye, but it almost feels worse when you try to think of anything else.

You shake yourself mentally as you stand in line at the academy’s dining hall. Yes, you’re the world’s most socially inept reporter. BUT at least you grabbed your book and prevented the world from ending via your stupid crush drawings being exposed to said crushes. Flipping to a random page in your book, you nearly drop it when you open to lined paper and a paragraph detailing the top ten most unconventional uses for Hextech.

The book slams shut, your shaking hands doing so on impulse. Quickly you tear the book open to another page, maybe you were seeing things. It’s an interview on Viktor’s work ethic. Another page. A think piece on Jayce’s past and how it led to where he’s at today. Another page and another and another.

You grabbed the wrong book.

From behind you a student clears their throat, asking if you were gonna move up. The dining hall continued to slowly shuffle forward like your entire world didn’t just stop. On autopilot, you stumble to close the gap in the line, muttering some half-assed apology as your mind reels.

The notebook for your reports was here, which could only mean that your sketchbook was left behind with the last two people you’d ever want it to be left with. There’s no chance in hell they aren’t flipping through it right now and laughing over how hopelessly and desperately in love you are.

To your agony, the dining hall line was steadily shortening, even as you do your best to drag your feet the entire way. You were dreading coming back to the lab.

Maybe there was a chance they had opened to a life drawing of Piltover.

Yeah! Maybe they opened to a less damning picture and decided to respect your wishes for your sketchbook to remain untouched. You were worrying over nothing. It’ll all turn out fine in the end. Probably.

—

“Did you really draw all of these yourself??” You hadn’t even been back in the lab for five seconds before Piltover’s golden boy was in your face, holding a head shot of himself that you’d done in graphite last week.

“I quit. Find a new reporter who will pick up your stupid lunches.”

“Oh, Jayce, leave them alone,” Viktor looks entirely too amused where he’s sitting with his legs crossed. Jayce is leaning against the desk to Viktor’s right and flipping excitedly through the pages. “This is obviously personal to them.”

“What? My private sketches that I never let anyone touch? No, go ahead,” You shrug your shoulders, unpacking your bag on Viktor’s other side. The knowing look in his eyes was making you twitch, so you refused to look at either of them.

“These are incredible, Y/N. Seriously, I’m floored,” Jayce gushes, passing the book over to Viktor.

You fight back the urge to throw Jayce’s lunch across the lab and sprint out, never to return. “It’s just drawings, Jayce.” You mutter through gritted teeth. This was like torture. There’s no way in hell they didn’t know you had a crush on the both of them by now.

“Don’t sell yourself short, now,” Viktor hums as he thumbs through the pages and stops at the one you did today. Through the messy bits of his hair that are constantly falling into his eyes, he looks up at you. Almost right through you, honestly. It’s like he can see through your act, the way you play unbothered when you’re nothing but a hot mess inside. His golden eyes are piercing from this close, and when he points back to the drawing, you’re almost relieved at the excuse to look anywhere else. “There’s obviously a lot of passion that goes into these, hm?”

“Stop fucking with me, Viktor,” You grit out, not even pretending to keep yourself busy with the lunches anymore. In your ears you can practically hear all the blood rushing to your head. It’s fucking with your head, you don’t know what Viktor’s up to and you just want the games to be over with. You’re so busy glaring daggers at Viktor that you don’t even notice that Jayce has shifted from his partner’s side to right behind you until he places a gentle hand on your waist.

“Fucking with you? I’ve done nothing of the sort,” Viktor hums. The corner of his mouth twitches up as you jump at Jayce’s touch, and you almost don’t hear him add, under his breath; “Not yet anyways…”

“We just wanted to thank you for all the lovely art work you’ve made of us,” Jayce’s voice comes from directly beside your ear, and you absentmindedly sway backwards. Leaning into where you can feel the heat coming off of him in waves. Good lord, does he always run this hot? You feel like you’re melting. “That ok? You gonna let us thank you?”

“I - well, I wouldn’t say no, but-” It felt like your head was spinning. Jayce was practically snug against your back at this point, Viktor smirking in front of you while watching you slowly lose composure. You try to gather yourself enough for a full sentence, “Wait, I’m sorry. I’m confused. You guys aren’t…weirded out?”

“Of course not,” Viktor assures you as he takes one of your hands and uses the desk to help push himself to his feet. “I like getting to see this side of you. For someone who spends all their time digging into other’s secrets, you aren’t very forthright.”

“Although I kind of wish you had felt comfortable enough to show us yourself. I’m sorry you grabbed the wrong notebook,” Jayce says, pressing a kiss to the top of your shoulder. An action that nearly wipes every thought from your brain clean. There’s absolutely no way this is actually happening. You’re half tempted to pinch yourself.

“I wanted to,” You blurt out, the words surprising you with how much conviction you put into them. Once they were out in the air, you found that you meant them. The words came out easier this time, “I just didn’t know how. Honestly, I just felt like an asshole for assuming you guys were a couple and didn’t want to make things awkward again.”

You can feel more than hear Jayce chuckling behind you. In response, Viktor shoots him a fond look over your shoulder. You’re more than a little bit lost when Viktor makes a noncommittal sound in the back of his throat.

“Ehh, about that.”

“What. What?? Have you two been messing with me this entire time??” You try to turn around in Jayce’s hold, catching a glimpse of his red face before he turns you right back around.

“No, no! Nothing like that!” Jayce reassures you. Huffing and leaning back into where Jayce is standing sturdy and strong behind you, you raise an expectant eyebrow at Viktor. “We really were just friends when you asked if we were dating.”

“It’s just your little comment made the both of us realize we wanted something more than that,” Viktor is staring into your eyes again, although the golden hue’s less piercing this time. His eyes are full of intensity, but less like an interrogation this time and a bit more smug. Like everything was falling into place exactly how he wanted it to.

It took a large amount of restraint to hold back from yelling out a triumphant ‘I KNEW IT!!!’ Instead, you settled on “Oh? And where do I fit into all of this?”

Like a cat who got the canary, Viktor’s smirk widened. Apparently that had been just the right thing to say.

“Where you’ve been fitting in this entire time, my dear,” Viktor purrs, almost closing the gap between you two as he places his hand on your waist, opposite of Jayce’s.

“Right here next to us,” Jayce finishes Viktor’s thought, and you wonder if they rehearsed this beforehand. Not that you had much time to wonder after Jayce started placing a trail of kisses along your shoulder and up the side of your neck, effectively killing any and all brain function you had left.

Your head was still spinning but in some weird way you were growing used to it around your two muses. Fortunately, you’ve been growing fond of their brand of chaos. There wasn’t anybody else in all of Piltover or the Undercity that could leave you reeling like Viktor and Jayce. It was almost suffocating, the heat being generated from where you were stuck between the two of them, but you found yourself rather enjoying the feeling.

Afterall, you’ve always been good with tight spaces.

#viktor #viktor lol #viktor x reader #viktor x male reader #viktor x gn reader #arcane #arcane x reader #lol #league of legends #lol x reader #male reader #gn!reader #this piece is so goddamn rusty #im sorry yall i havent written fanfic in over a year #mr viktor writes

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