#this was different and fun to make! To not die from heat wave haha! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mizunetzu · 4 years

Note

I just skipped school and binge read all of your fanfics- They’re really good gRRRRrrr 🥺🥺 Keep up the good work!! That being said- Can I request a fluffy Hawks x male reader where the reader has a cold and is stuck in bed and Hawks takes care of him? Thank you vv much!!!

HAHHAHA WHY IS ALL MY HAWKS REQUESTS ALWAYS FLUFF (I mean ur like my second one but it’s still flufF) (and not that this wasn’t fun to write cuz it was HAAHA I’m lowkey proud)

(Also gRRRRur so nice but GO TO SCHOOL >:( BARK BARKK BAEKR)

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Hawks x reader - The Sick Fic

⚠️warnings - it’s as the title says. It’s the sick fic.

Pronouns - male, he/him

——————

(Y/n) coughed up sticky red blood.

“Y-yeah, no. I don’t think I can patrol today, Yusha-san. The villain from yesterday activated their quirk on me-and I’m feeling a bit sick.”

Yusha, the secretary to the (L/n) hero agency, typed something down on his computer. “Is it something we should be concerned about?”

“No.” (Y/n) croaked out with a chuckle. “Their quirk isn’t really dangerous, but it did make me a bit sick. It’ll pass, don’t worry.”

“Ok. I’ll send in one of your sidekicks to patrol with Hawks-san today.” More typing from across the phone. (Y/n) pursed his lips.

“U-uh,”

“Don’t worry. I’m sending a male sidekick.” Yusha practically read his mind. (Y/n) didn’t want any stupid girls hitting on his stupid, popular, pro-hero patrol buddy boyfriend.

“Thank you, Yusha-san.”

“It’s nothing. Get some rest, (H/n). We expect you to show up tomorrow.” Yusha ended up before (Y/n) could even say goodbye. He lazily dropped his phone onto his bedside table, burying himself under his bedsheets as best as he could. Just as he was getting comfy, the urge to cough up more blood kicked him in the stomach.

He flung himself over his bed, practically shoving his head into the small waste bin under his bedside table. He wiped his mouth with his forearm after hacking up more blood, his head suddenly feeling hazy and jumbled.

He groaned, and got under the bedsheets once more. The world seemed to be against him today, as another distraction forced him out from his beauty sleep.

His phone buzzed once. Twice. Then the annoying, overlapping ring of multiple messages being spammed buzzed out his phone, making (Y/n) cover his ears with his pillow.

Annoyed, he patted around the side table til’ his hand landed on his phone, pulling it towards him and under the sheets.

‘Keigo 🍗 - where r u :(‘

‘Keigo 🍗 - who’s this...rando dude patrolling wit me :(((‘

‘Keigo 🍗 - r u asleep or smth’

‘Keigo 🍗 - wake up ur late to patrol and I need my yakitori addiction funded today’

‘Keigo 🍗 - DUDE’

‘Keigo 🍗 - BBBBBBBBBB’

‘Keigo 🍗 - IM NOT GONNA STOP SPAMMING U TILL U ANSWER ME OR SHOW UP AN PATROL WITH ME >:(((‘

(Y/n) sighed. He opened the messages, meaning that Keigo would get the ‘message read’ notification, but he couldn’t care less. Tossing the phone lazily on the table, he muted the messages app.

———

(Y/n) stirred in his sleep when he heard tapping on his bedroom window. (Y/n) opened his sticky eyes, barely open enough to see a blurry red object tapping against the glass frame. Eventually, the object halted, gave up, and swooped down and out of sight. He shrugged.

Just as he closed his eyes, more pelting came from the window, this time louder and heavier. (Y/n) snapped his eyes open, flinging himself out of bed, and getting ready to activate his quirk.

He visibly relaxed when he saw the huge red wings tapping outside the window, with a certain hero crouching down, looking at him sheepishly and trying to pick open the window lock. The man waved with an embarrassed smile, his feathers following suit.

“Keigo Takami. What the fuck are you doing in my house.”

The man, Keigo Takami, chuckled awkwardly while (y/n) undid the clasps on his window. He stepped back, allowing him to worm his way in through the small window.

Keigo paused, half way squeezed in with his wings stuck in the cramped window frame. He was stuck. “Y...you need to buy a bigger window-“

“Are you dumb?” (Y/n) chuckled, the sight of Pro Hero Hawks, man who could pull absolute pussy, bent over his bedroom window, stuck with his wings awkwardly fluttering in place. “Just, I don’t know, send your feathers off until they’re small enough to fit you in.”

Keigo had a wave of realization. This man had no braincells whatsoever. “...oh, haha, you’re so smart~”

One by one, feathers jutted out from his back, each floating either inside (Y/n’s) room or outside the window. Once all of them were off, and his back were relatively empty, he tumbled ever-so-gracefully inside the room. He stood up, his wings rebuilding themselves in seconds, and did an awful curtsy.

“Thank you, thank you, I’ll be here all day to take care of my sick patrol partner who do happens to be my boyfriend,”

“Speaking of patrol -what happened to patrol? A-and the dude you should be patrolling with? You should be out by n-“

A sharp, piercing pain shot through (Y/n’s) head. Now that the adrenaline from Hawks pounding on his window was subsiding, he seemed to remember how much his head was hurting.

He fumbled down, catching himself on the foot of his bed while Keigo lurched forward. “You good?” He mumbled, taking off his black wool glove.

He rested the back of his palm on (Y/n’s) forehead, before signing uncontently and replacing his hand with his lips. Even if he was burning up, (Y/n) froze.

After a while, Keigo drew his head back. “You’re burning up...”

Silence. Hawks awkwardly chuckled and played it off by running his hand through his hair.

“Lips are more sensitive than hands are-so I was just...you need to get to bed!” Keigo quickly stood up, gently ushering the sick hero to his bed. Pulling up the thick-set covers, Keigo hazily tosses his jacket to the corner and discarded his other glove.

“Try and get some rest. Did that dude’s quirk from yesterday do this?” He got a nod in response. “Alright. I’m gonna go change and get you some shit.”

With that and a warm smile, Keigo disappeared through the bedroom door. (Y/n) followed him with his eyes, right before he was out of sight, then let his eyes droop close.

———

“Pssst.”

A finger poked at (Y/n’s) cheek. He grumbled, furrowing his brows and keeping his eyes screwed shut. He heard a sigh from somewhere above him.

Something feathery tickled him from underneath his nose. He scrunched his nose up, expecting the odd feeling to go away, before feeling a sneeze build up. The watery feeling course through his nose before his head shot up every-so-slightly to let out a weak “Achoo!”

Keigo snickered. (Y/n) finally opened his eyes. Keigo was sitting beside him, now in casual clothes, holding a convince store bag and a red feather. The feather flew out of his hand and stuck itself on his back.

“Sorry I was out for so long. You didn’t have jack shit in your house, so I bought some medicine and takeout since I know you won’t eat soup and I can’t cook.”

It was true. The only thing Pro Hero Hawks is allowed to do is heat up a hotdog, and even then he might break the microwave. And (Y/n) won’t eat soup he made if his life depended on it. If he can’t even turn on the stove, what makes you think that he’d drink a whole bowl of soup made by him and not die?

“Whad’ja get?” (Y/n’s) voice came out more gravely and deep than he expected. Under different circumstances, that would’ve been kinda hot. Keigo pulled out things one by one from the bag.

“Ok so, I got painkillers, a cooling pack, a heating pad just in case your stomach starts hurting, a thermometer, and I found these cool matching red bird keychains and I bought them on impulse. One for you and one for me~ I also bought 2 beef bowls”

Keigo layed all the items down either on the bed or on the table beside it, holding up the keychains last. Shaking them around a bit, turns out there was a small bell inside both of them. (Y/n) tried, and failed, to hide his growing smile.

Keigo placed the cooling pack on (Y/n’s) previously burning forehead. The sudden coldness forced an involuntary groan from the bed sick male. He chuckled.

“Sorry. Deal with that for awhile and I’ll feed you~” Hawks saddled up in the spot next to him, holding the two plastic bowls and worming his way underneath the covers. He placed the food down on his lap and switched on the tv.

They sat in silence, the only thing being the sounds of the tv filling the room with the occasional reaction or snicker from the two. Keigo alternated between shoveling a forkful of rice and beef into his mouth, then feeding his boyfriend and carefully making sure none spilled onto his bed. The news reporter droned on onscreen, their voice being tuned out by the two hero’s.

“By the way, Keigo,” (Y/n) started, once he swallowed his food. Keigo gave a hum of acknowledgment, holding up a finger to (y/n), then to his mouth until he finished chewing. Thickly swallowing, Keigo hummed again.

“You were supposed to patrol today. With one of my sidekicks. What happened to that?”

Keigo looked at (Y/n), before looking back at the tv so causally. For a while he said nothing, until he opened his mouth.

“I ditched.”

(Y/n) made a sputtering noise. His shock turned into a long string of hacks and coughs, which Keigo waited ever-so-patiently for him to calm down from. “You ditched?! Keigo, you’re the no. 2 hero! You can’t be caught ditching!”

“Relaaaaax,” Keigo leaned farther into the bed cushions. “I told my agency and your stupid sidekick man that I was gonna check on you. It was a valid excuse.”

“Still!” (Y/n) rubbed at his temples. Hawks shoveled another forkful of food into his mouth. “You’re sitting here watching tv with me instead of working!”

“I needed a break. Plus,” Keigo held up his unfinished bowl of food defensively.

“I can’t believe you.”

“I love you too~”

(Y/n) sighed.

“I hope you get sick.” Hawks chuckled, saying something about being immune to all sicknesses.

Needless to say, (y/n) was patrolling with one of Keigos sidekicks the next day.

——————

#bnha hawks #hawks x reader #wing hero hawks #hawksbnha #mha hawks #keigo x reader #keigo takami #hawks x male reader #keigo x male reader #bnha x male reader #bnha x reader #mha x male reader #bnha male reader #my hero academia hawks

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miracle-sham · 3 years

Text

Crack Your Bones and Say Those Lies.

| {Jasonette July 2021, Saturday Challenge 3: And They Were Roommates} |

———

| After getting roped into the Vigilante life by Chat Noir, her friend and partner in crime, Maladroit tries her best to help fight crime to make the city a better place, if only Red Hood and his gang would stop causing problems. |

| Or alternatively, Marinette and Jason are roommates with secrets. Both have huge crushes on each other but more importantly, both are trying to juggle moonlighting as their secret identities. However, when watching the nightly news together, everything changes. |

| Word Count: 5,014. |

| Warnings/Tags: No Miraculous/Different Powers Au, Roommates, minor gang mentions/Red Hood is a gang lord, gun violence, Vigilantism, Identity Shenanigans/Mistakes, Miscommunication, some emotional hurt, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, and Domestic fluff. Also Oblivious, Protective, & Mutually Pining Marinette and Jason. |

———

| A/N: Hey! Sorry this is nearly a week late but where I live got hit with a nasty heatwave and I was barely able to write from sheer exhaustion from the heat. But on a happier note, I'm so glad I've finally been able to write and post a proper Vigilantes au (as in like Spidey style vigilantism with homemade gear and all!) Because that kinda Vigilante au especially combined with roommates is my favourite trope ever! Well maybe joint with Dragonrider AUs, but still! I've had multiple Vigilante Aus sitting in my notes and drafts so it's brilliant to finally release one into the wild! Anyway, I hope you enjoy reading this! |

| Also side note, Don’t Like? Don’t Read. Also also, please do not criticise any of my writing. This was written for fun and receiving criticism, even in a compliment/criticism sandwich, is the exact opposite of fun. |

———

It's Friday night, and Maladroit and Chat Noir are midway through their usual patrol of their slice of territory in the city.

“Race you to the billboard!” Chat Noir calls out, snickering in an almost cat-like-chitter as he launches himself forwards. Swinging over Maladroit's head with his grapple, he lands on the next roof ahead, in a perfect three-point landing.

Maladroit giggles, “Oh, you're so on!” She grabs her grapple and shoots. Swinging after him and onto the same roof. She instead, dive forward rolls for her landing and uses the momentum to propel her into a run.

Losing his lead due to the momentum loss of the three-point landing, Chat Noir vaults over a roof vent.

Forced to swerve to the side, Maladroit barely dodges a massive puddle of rainwater on her side of the roof.

Neck and Neck, the two raced across the rooftop. Closer and closer to the billboard they raced.

Nearly there! She thinks, c'mon! Reaching an arm out to slap the billboard—

Bzzt!

“Eep!” She yelps, startled by the buzzing crackle of her earring-comms. Unintentionally, she accidentally veers to the side and crashes straight into Chat Noir's side.

They collide with a loud thud, and two of them crumple into a pile.

“Graceful as ever, Mal.” A voice teases over her earring-comms. “Joking aside, didn't mean to spook you, sorry!”

Maladroit groans, “thanks,” and gingerly extracts herself from the vigilante limb pile.

“Gamer!” Chat Noir cheers, having heard him through his own disguised comms. “Got any crimes for us to fight tonight?”

There's a chuckle over the line, “Lucky you should ask, Chat, I do happen to have found some villainous plans for you to thwart.”

Chat Noir cracks his knuckles and stretches. “Oh? What are they?”

“Two which are time-sensitive.” Gamer adds.

Maladroit stifles a squawk, “Two! That are time-sensitive?” Her voice goes up a pitch on the last word, making it sound like a question.

“Uh-huh.” He confirms. “Chat Noir, there's a break-in at a jewellery store two blocks over from you. I'm sending you the directions now to your phone.”

Chat Noir does a two-fingered salute to the nearest security camera. “Got it, G! Detective Noir is on the case!”

“And Maladroit, we've got reports of sightings of Red Hood outside his usual area. By the Warehouses on fourth. There are no security cams around there so I've got nothing but rumours to go on. See if you can check it out and find out what he's up to.” Gamer informs her, sounding slightly irritated at the fact he's got little information to give her.

Maladroit nods, grumbling slightly. “When isn't he up to something.”

Slinging an arm around her shoulder, Chat Noir grins like the Cheshire Cat. “C'mon, Mal! It'll be a quick sweep and nothing will turn up like the last twenty times we've gotten this kinda tip-off!”

“You owe me ice cream from André's when we're in civvies tomorrow!” She huffs. “I made us macarons last time!”

“I haven't forgotten!” Chat Noir protests. “Anyway, see you tomorrow if we don't catch each other for the end of the patrol?”

Maladroit nods. “Yep! See ya later Minou!”

The two split. Chat Noir dashing after the directions, and Maladroit swinging towards the warehouses on fourth.

———

Breathe, Maladroit—reminds herself, perched on the rafters in one of the warehouses on fourth. Staring at the blood-red glowing mask of the red hooded villain, who happens to be oh so creatively named the 'Red Hood', leaning on the balcony railing on the opposite side of the warehouse to her rafter, and presumably glaring up at her.

“It's you again, Maladroit.” He growls, distorted by whatever voice modifier he's got wired into his mask.

She can't help but wince at the reminder of the word she had accidentally said the first time she had ever helped Chat Noir fight crime. Which irritatingly enough, stuck as her vigilante name. Especially since her second attempt at a name, Ladybug, didn't stick. She frowns beneath the black and red spotted bandana covering her mouth, and tightly grips her bladed yo-yo—with piano wire instead of string—of the same colour scheme.

“What are you planning, Red Hood?” She spits out, voice also modified by her bandana, a tad too grumpy and bitterly for the awkward-but-smiley "persona" she's supposed to act like (although it's not so much of a persona when that's just how she is almost all the time). But in her defence, she's had a rough day at uni, things have been awkward at home because of her crush on her roomie lately, and more importantly, Red Hood's lackeys have been a pain in the neck for the past week, so her reaction is more than warranted.

He has the audacity to laugh. “What makes you think I'm going to tell you, Pipsqueak?”

“Well,” Maladroit huffs, “I was hoping you were feeling considerate.”

Red Hood shifts his shoulders. “Aww, sorry Pipsqueak. I'm not feeling particularly considerate today.” In a split second, he slips both guns from his holsters, spins them, and shoots.

Maladroit squeaks, instinctively tugging on her power, and dives off the rafter to dodge the shot. “Rude!”

She's just able to shoot her grapple off and swing up to another metal beam.

“How the fuck do you keep dodging my shots?” He snarls, gesturing at her with his guns in short angry-looking motions.

In response, she throws her yo-yo at him, tugging on her power again. The yo-yo spins through the air, slashing through the Red Hood's jacket sleeve and slicing a deep groove into the gun, then rewinds on the wire back to her. “What makes you think I'm going to tell you, Bullet Boy!” She parrots back, cheekily.

“Hey!” Red Hood snaps, aiming another shot at her.

Tugging on her powers once more, Maladroit yelps as she swings to yet another metal rafter beam in order to avoid the shot. “Your aim sucks!”

“Fuck you!” He retorts, firing off four more shots aimed at her head.

There's a horrifying moment as she barely manages to tug on her powers in time. The bullets barely skimming past her hood, one even tearing the fabric slightly.

“Mal!” Comes Gamer's terrified voice over her earring-comms, “I need you to pull back immediately! Red Hood and his gang have been spotted nearby and Chat can't get to you in time to back you up if you do get into a fight!”

She raises a hand to her earrings and quietly laughs hysterically. “Little too late for that, G! I'm uh currently staring… face to gun to him”

“Oh, fuck!” Gamer responds, voice going up a pitch. “I'm contacting Chat now. Try and get out if you can but prioritise not getting yourself killed, please!”

Red Hood fires his guns again. “Eyes and ears on me, Pipsqueak.”

Squeaking yet again, Maladroit desperately tugs on her power once more and swings to another rafter. Her heart thunders in her chest as loudly as his gunfire. She spits out a frantic, “no promises!” to both of them.

“I've informed him, your backup is on the way.” Gamer tells her.

The main warehouse doors clatter open with a resounding slam! Followed by the stomping of multiple pairs of boots storming inside.

Maladroit waves at Red Hood, the quiet terrified hysterical laughter practically bubbling out of her mouth. “Haha, well I'm afraid that's my cue to Bug Out!”

“Oh, I don't think so, Pipsqueak.” Red Hood taunts, shooting six bullets at her, rapid-fire. “I ain't finished with our convo yet.”

Squeaking for the umpteenth time, and really just giving him even more reason to keep giving her that stupid pipsqueak nickname, she riskily shoots her grapple, aiming and swinging towards the warehouse's large balcony windows.

“Get the fuck back here!” He snarls, voice deepening with fury. Pausing to reload before firing off more shots at her with abandon.

Maladroit wriggles midair, tugging on her powers to try and dodge the shots. She curls into a dive forward roll as the grapple forces her to land onto the balcony. The same one that Red Hood has been stood on this entire time. Oh, help me! She thinks, eyes widening behind her makeshift red with black tinted lenses, goggles-slash-domino mask.

He aims his gun at her once more. “Move and you fucking die, pipsqueak.”

Putting her hands in the air, she swallows a gulp of air. Her body armour is padded beneath her red, and black spotted, hoodie but it isn't bulletproof. And she can feel the straining exhaustion of overusing her powers clawing at her.

They're at a standoff. Still as statues, the both of them. It's almost poetic how they parallel each other. He's got his gun aimed at her, whilst she's desperately clutching at her grappling hook gun in one of her raised hands. Both donned in red. Both committing crimes in the eyes of the law. Two sides of the same coin, one and the same.

Maladroit feels sick to her stomach, staring down the barrels of his guns. Ever so slowly, she tugs on her powers. The window a little bit behind her creaks quietly enough that Red Hood doesn't seem to notice beneath the clamour of his gang doing whatever it is they're doing below.

She counts her breath and tugs on her power. A minute passes with no movement, no words, nothing happening on the balcony. Out of the corner of her eye, she can just see that it's now open enough that she should be able to make it out unscathed. Or at least mostly unscathed.

Closing her eyes, not that he can see, her power snaps. Instinctively she doubles over and slaps a hand over her mouth. Barely in time as a stifled scream is yanked from her throat, leaving her panting for breath. Her knees crash onto the balcony flooring. A bullet whizzes past her neck.

“Shit. What the fuck was that?” Red Hood grumbles, sounding genuinely concerned. He storms across the balcony towards her.

Maladroit can't help but flinch, bodily throwing herself back as far away from him as she can. Mind racing in panic.

He stows one gun back into a holster then reaches a hand towards her. “Hey, hey, hey. Calm down.”

“Gotta go! Bug-bye!” She squeaks out, wrenching on her power with all her remaining strength, and bolting for the window.

“I think the fuck not! Fucking pretending to be hurt.” Red Hood barks, ripping the gun back out of its holster.

Narrowly dodging the spray of bullets shot at her, Maladroit dives through the window and fires off her grapple. Safely swinging far away from the warehouse.

———

Carefully Maladroit drops with the ease of far too many nights of practise, onto the fire escape outside her bedroom window. She crouches and lets the shadows of the night hide her form. Creeping closer, she checks the windowsill for any marks or signs of tampering but it all comes away untouched. Content with her quick security check, she fumbles for the disguised piece of string wedging the window ajar in a way that's barely visible unless you know where to look for it. Got it! She thinks to herself, grabbing ahold of it and prying it, and the window above it, up and open.

Slipping through the open window, she sits on the sill to rip her thankfully not-too-dirty studded steel-toed boots off. Picking them up in one hand, she wiggles the rest of the way into her room and immediately resets the security measures, yanking the curtain down for privacy.

Maladroit then shuffles over to her bed. Tikki—her gorgeous fluffy red and dark brown miniature dachshund—blinks sleepily up at her, from the dog bed next to it. The puppy yaps in greeting before snuffling and curling back up to sleep.

She coos at the cuteness before continuing on. With the other hand not carrying the boots, she pries the blanket covered duffel bag out from underneath. Wrestling to unzip it in one janky and awkward motion, grunting slightly at the exertion. The metal of the zip digs in but the discomfort is mostly mitigated by the padded gloves and wrist guards she's wearing. The easy to clean plastic bag designated for temporary storing of her boots is dragged out of the bag and said boots are tossed in without a second glance.

Huffing, she starts to take the rest of her cross between mostly homemade and refashioned sports kit vigilante gear off. First, tugging down the hood of her hoodie and unclipping the black scrum cap hidden under it. It's dumped unceremoniously into a secondary plastic bag in the open duffel bag. After that, Maladroit removes the black neck guard and pulls her makeshift goggles-slash-domino mask over her head. Those too, are dumped into the other plastic bag. Then she unties the bandana with the nose guard underneath, from around her mouth and nose. Unsurprisingly, they're also dumped in the bag.

Next, she undoes the velcros on her red and black padded gloves, black wrist guards, as well as black elbow, knee, and shin pads. Also dumped into the other bag. With the outer protective wear removed, Maladroit pulls her hoodie over her head. Continuing on, she peels the padded rugby body armour and shorts off, and then the thermal under-armour. All dumped into the third and final plastic bag. “I swear,” Maladroit mumbles to herself, “getting changed out my gear never gets easier. And to think back when I had my last P.E. lesson at school, I thought I'd never have to touch this kinda kit ever again. Rip me.”

Lastly, Marinette—no longer Maladroit seeing as she is no longer in her vigilante gear—throws on her running-to-the-bathroom spare bathrobe to cover herself. She hastily shoves the three plastic bags into the duffel bag and kicks it under her bed. Purposefully leaving it unzipped but quickly fixing the blanket covering the bag, so that she can more easily grab her kit to clean everything later, whilst keeping it sufficiently hidden.

With that mostly taken care of, she nabs the mouthguard case, some clean pyjamas, and dashes out of her room—clinging awkwardly to the bathrobe. She hops in the apartment's shared bathroom, the rest of the place is silent, meaning her roomie, Jason, must have gone out. Still, Marinette locks the door regardless. If there's one thing she's learnt in her foray into the nightly masked vigilantism, is that one can never be too careful.

“Shit! Nearly forgot to take this out.” She grumbles to herself, just as she was stepping into the shower. Prying the mouthguard out of her mouth as she shuffles over to the sink, she gives it a quick rinse under the tap. Followed by a thorough scrubbing with her toothbrush and glob of toothpaste. She pops it into the mouthguard case and leaves it on the side of the sink for now.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Marinette finally allows herself to indulge in a good half an hour-long hot shower to get the grime from a night of crime-fighting off of herself.

She's only just drying off her hair, having already changed into her pyjamas, when the blare of the TV echoes through the apartment. Tensing up, her anxiety runs wild. It's what they get for living in the cheaper but slightly dodgy apartments where the walls are thin and the doors are thinner. Grabbing the mouthguard case, she wraps it up in the bathrobe and peeks out the bathroom door and looks down the hall into the open plan kitchen lounge. Jason's back, he's sitting on the sofa watching the TV.

Shoulders untensing, she finished drying her hair and heads out into the hallway. In place of a greeting, she exclaims, “oh! Jason, you're back!”

Jason flinches slightly and looks over his shoulder back at her. “Yeah, a friend had an emergency so, y'know.”

Immediately, concern wrenches at Marinette's heart, “oh no, I'm sorry. Are they… okay?”

He waves a hand in a so-so gesture and clears his throat awkwardly. “Uh, yeah. They're fine now.”

“That's good!” She says, nodding, as she makes her way fully into the lounge and the TV catches her attention. “Oh is it nearly the eleven o'clock news already? I need to watch this! Alya texted me earlier saying I have to, and she sounded really excited!” Glancing down at the bundle in her arms and flushes red. “Actually, I'll be back in a second!”

“I'll yell as soon as it actually starts.” Jason offers, smiling warmly at her.

Marinette just misses the smile, rushing back to her room, and throwing a quick, “thanks,” over her shoulder back at him.

Also missing his smile turn fond and the good-natured roll of his eyes at her antics.

Barely half a minute passes before she's bounding back into the lounge, with a sleepy Tikki at her heels. She plops herself down on the sofa next to him and hopes the blush on her face could simply be mistaken for the flush of running about like a mad thing instead. Tikki whines until Marionette picks her up and lets her on the sofa with them, padding over to the furthest corner to curl up in.

Jason points to the pink floral steaming mug on the coffee table, right next to his Pride Prejudice and Zombies themed mug. “Whilst you were in the shower, I made us both hot chocolates with marshmallows, my granddad Alfie's recipe.”

“Oh!” Marinette responds in pleasant surprise. She turns to him and positively beams, eyes shining with happiness. “Thank you so much, Jason! You're always so thoughtful!”

He blushes and rubs the back of his neck bashfully. “Yeah, well, I thought it's only fair since you normally make 'em. And I visited Alfie recently, and I promised to get you his recipe to try, so I thought it'd be a nice surprise for once!” He pauses and points at the big bowl also on the coffee table, “also I cooked us some popcorn.”

“Aw! Thank you again! I really appreciate this!” She scoops up the hot chocolate with slight reverence and takes a sip. Immediately her face lights up even more in joy. “Oh, this is delicious!”

Jason chuckles, “isn't it the best! I'll pass that onto Alfie though, he'll be glad to know you like it so much. Speaking of which, he's gonna give making them a try next time I'm up since I wasn't there long enough this time. Would you fancy coming with me to see him, then?”

Her eyes widen and her heart stutters in her chest, feeling close to bursting from happiness. “I'd love to! Do you have a date when you're thinking of going up?”

He nods. “Yeah, maybe around—”

But he's interrupted by the starting audio of the eleven o'clock news.

They both immediately shut up and watch the screen intently as the news anchors appear on the show. The starting discussion is somewhat boring, talking about the local billionaire Wayne-or-something business and a related upcoming charity event of some sort.

Marinette doesn't pay attention to it, but she does catch Jason wrinkling his nose and scowling at the conversation.

Luckily, the topic shifts quickly enough. “And now, over to our newest reporter, Alya. We hear there's been some rumblings regarding the conflict between local vigilante Chat Noir, his sidekick Maladroit, and the gang controlled by the infamous Red Hood himself.”

“That's stupid,” Jason grumbles, “Maladroit is a fully-fledged vigilante in her own right and not just the catboy's sidekick. That's like saying Nightwing is Batman's sidekick!”

Marinette frowns, very touched by his words and trying her damnedest to appear nonchalant. “I don't know… from all the-uh news clips, Maladroit seems like Chat Noir's sidekick to me. She's always hovering nervously near him like a strong wind would spook her.”

“C'mon! She's been reported to have held her own against Red Hood on multiple occasions, alone!” He argues, sounding rather offended on her alter egos behalf.

Scoffing, she shakes her head. “Clearly that's because he's going easy on her! He's never directly shot her, according to the reports clearly, he's soft on her!” The lies taste bitter on her tongue.

Jason splutters and flushes bright red, turning away from her slightly. “W-well that's obviously a testament to her skill and not Red Hood's mercy! He's always reported as being a merciless killer, why'd he be soft on her!”

“I don't know!” She makes a dying-choking noise as she flushes even more red than earlier. Shoving a handful of popcorn into her mouth to avoid having to respond any further.

Luckily, the news shows pans over to Alya standing in front of a screen showing a recorded feed of a warehouse. Not just any warehouse, but specifically the one on fourth that Maladroit had faced Red Hood in less than an hour ago.

Marinette feels her pulse quicken at the reminder of the close shave she'd had.

“Hey wait a second, those warehouses don't have security cameras at all? How'd they get this footage?” Jason complains, eyes narrowed at the TV.

It feels as though ice has been poured down her spine at his words. She freezes, body stiffening in shock. He's right… G said there's none because that's why he asked me to check things out. The only people who'd know this are Chat, Gamer, myself, and Red Hood and his gang. She swallows thickly and tries to subtly side-eye Jason. Oh no. I've been crushing on my roommate who works for Red Hood's gang? Oh god! The friend with the emergency was referring to Red Hood calling him into work!

She can't help but inhale a shallow panicked breath. He could've been one of the lackeys shooting at me and Chat this past week. Or, or I could've hurt him with my yo-yo. Or—

Jason turns to fully face, clearly registering the blatant panic on her face. “Hey, hey, hey, Marinette, you're okay, you're safe. What's wrong?”

“Are you working for Red Hood?” Marinette blurts out, accidentally, the words pouring out in an unintentional panicked rush. “Are you in his gang?”

He jerks back, fear, confusion, and hurt crosses his face. “Wh-what? What makes you think that?”

“His gang was just in that warehouse, and you were out on an emergency for a "friend". And how would you have known unless you were there tonight and working for his gang?” She chews her lip forcefully and winces as the taste of iron floods her mouth.

He reaches towards her, eyes widening concern.

She flinches back, suddenly reminded of how similar this is to that moment with Red Hood on the warehouse balcony.

Jason jerks back as if her flinching burnt him. Raising his hands, he leans away from her to give her some semblance of space. “Fuck. Look, I'm not going to hurt you! Have I ever hurt you whilst we've been roomies?”

Nervously, she shakes her head.

“I really care about you, Marinette. Hell, we've lived together for nearly a year now. I would never hurt you, okay! I promise.” Tears prick in his eyes, and he grimaces slightly, lowering his hands to rest on his lap. “Yeah, I uh, I'm working for him. But I do everything I can to keep work from following me home. I didn't tell you because I never wanted to scare you.”

Guilt gnaws at her. “I'm sorry! I shouldn't have judged. I—” She takes a shaky breath, “I really really care about you too. I'm just worried, what if Red Hood, or even Maladroit, or any of the other vigilantes hurt you? What if you get hurt in one of those gang wars?” Her words aren't lies but they're not the full truth either.

He sighs, “I can't promise I won't ever get hurt on the job. Maladroit and the other vigilantes do a lot of good but Maladroit especially is far too nice to hurt any of us. I've uh, seen her fight some of the others gang members, and been fought by her too. And out of everyone against the gang, she's the one who leaves us with barely more than a scratch at worst.” He rubs the back of his neck. “Most in the gang really respect her for that, y'know.”

Marinette's brain feels like the windows shutting down sound. “Oh. Oh.”

Sheepishly, he smiles half-heartedly at her. “Yeah.”

“So, is that why you were so adamant she's a fully-fledged vigilante in her right?” She asks, feeling bashful yet honoured whilst completely surprised.

Jason clears his throat and glances away. “Uh-huh.”

“Oh.” Her brain rewinds a moment. She splutters for a second, desperation racing through her. “Wait, she's fought you!?”

Full-on grimacing, he nervously laughs. “Left but a scratch!”

“Are you misquoting Monty Python right now? Oh good gods, that's the knight who says that after getting his limbs chopped off!” Marinette exclaims, looking every bit as horrified as her tone of voice conveys.

“Seriously, I've never gotten worse than a couple of minor cuts and bruises, I'm fine!” Jason reiterates.

She frowns and gingerly shuffles across the sofa closer to him. He keeps leaning back away, so she physically throws herself at him, pulling him into a tight hug. Incidentally burying her face in his shirt. “Okay, okay. Just, please let me know next time you get hurt. I've a friend who lived in a bad situation before, so I know how to help patch up minor injuries. Promise?”

Jason stiffens at the hug and slowly moves one hand to cup the back of her head whilst wrapping the other around her back. He shuts his eyes, cocking his head back and sighs. “Alright. I promise I'll tell you. And I'm sorry for keeping something this big from you. As I said, I was worried you'd be scared of me or that you'd get dragged into gang-related shit because of it.”

“You don't need to apologise.” Marinette mumbles in response, “I get it. I really do understand.” She bites at her sore bleeding lips again in guilt, her secret identity left unspoken on her tongue.

He shrugs, “so uh. I'm guessing you're still happy to stay roomies then, right?”

“Of course!” She responds without missing a beat hugging him even tighter.

Eventually, they release each other from the embrace to finish their now lukewarm hot chocolates and popcorn. The news continues playing, no longer forgotten in the background as the two try to act as if nothing has changed.

———

Jason collapses onto his bed with a heavy sigh. He pulls out his phone and rings a number on autopilot.

The dial tone plays as the line connects. “Hey, whaddup Jay?”

“Holy fucking shit balls, man.” Jason groans. “I fucked up.”

Roy hums, “like need help burying a body fucked up or what?”

Jason groans even louder, smushing his face into his bed covers. “My roomie is smart, right. I accidentally let a tiny detail slip when we were chatting whilst watching the eleven o'clock news as usual. And she now thinks that I'm in Red Hood's gang.”

There's a long pause, before Roy bursts into raucous laughter. “Holy shit, I'm dying! She's not wrong!”

“Yeah. I know. She ain't right either though.” He grumbles in response. “She was absolutely terrified when she realised. Nearly had a full-on panic attack and everything.”

“Oh fuck.” Roy helpfully says.

Jason grunts in agreement. “She was also real concerned that Red Hood or the vigilantes have hurt me.”

“Well, that's better?” Roy offers, sounding rather unsure of his own words.

“Yeah but she's taken thinking I'm some low-level member of my gang this badly, how the fuck d'ya think she's gonna take finding out I'm the big bad Red Hood himself?” Jason sighs. “I don't want to ask her out without her knowing this, 'cause it could endanger her.”

Roy hums again, “well, you've been roommates this long already and she's been completely safe from the Vigilante-Gang life so far.”

There's a gentle thump as Jason lifts his head and throws it into the sheets again out of sheer frustration. He relents, reluctantly. “That's true…”

“See. And since it sounds like she's not planning on moving out, clearly she doesn't mind living with you. Just ask her out to dinner already.” Roy adds, cheerfully.

Huffing, he rolls over on the bed. “I'm starting to feel like those weird girl slumber party ads with the creepy phone-a-boy games.”

Roy wheezes, followed by a thudding noise and the distant sound of his cackling.

“Wow. And to think I called you for help. I'm offended.” Jason goads with no bite, waiting a few seconds to hear Roy's response but it's just more laughter.

He rolls his eyes and ends the call, not like Roy will mind. Throwing an arm over his face, Jason barely refrains from grabbing his pillow to scream into. He doesn't, obviously. Because the walls are thin enough that Marinette might hear him and he's worried her enough this night as is.

Sighing like a lovesick protagonist in a period romance novel, Jason moves his arm to run his fingers through his own hair. A date. Just gotta ask her at some point, to dinner at a fancy-ish restaurant. It'll be fine, what's the worst that can happen?

Her terrified reaction on the sofa flashes through his mind, followed by the reminder of how small and scared Maladroit had seemed when she had fallen to her knees on the warehouse balcony. There was no way that she was faking the pain, like he'd initially thought. She had practically staggered in her mad dash to escape. And there's no way for me to find out whether she got to somewhere safe afterwards. God, she could be lying dead in some dank alleyway for all I know right now. Fuck, I hope she's okay...

He groans in distress and shifts in place. Already feeling like he really won't be getting any sleep at all tonight at this rate, thanks to his concern for those two.

———

| Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this little fic! Comments, Likes, and Reblogs are much appreciated! |

| I decided to go close to canon for names this time, hence why Chat Noir remains unchanged but Max is Gamer (because A. that was his Akuma name, and B. he's like Player from Carmen Sandiego in this, couldn't help myself), and Marinette is Maladroit (from the first thing she calls herself in Origins). |

| Oh, also whilst it's not explicitly stated in the text; Marinette/Maladroit's has the power of luck/being lucky, Chat Noir has the power of being unlucky, and Red Hood has "Perfect Aim" aka he's a hitscan. Which is why Maladroit is able to dodge his bullets by making herself "lucky enough" to dodge in time. |

| Also feel free to send me any comments with any questions you have regarding this fic, I'll be more than happy to answer! |

| @jasonette-july-event |

#Maribat #MLB x DC #DC x MLB #Jasonette #Jasonette July #Jasonette July 2021 #JasonetteJuly2021 #JasMari #MariJay #Marinette x Jason #Jason x Marinette #Jasonette July Saturday Challenge #Jasonette July And They Were Roommates #Crack Your Bones and Say Those Lies #CYBaSTL #Sham's Posts #Sham's Writing #Sham's Fics

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dragonsfictavern · 4 years

Text

Dancing With Danger

Klaus Mikaelson x Reader

𝗮/𝗻: I’ve been wanting to write for the TVD franchise for a bit now and this is my first attempt, haha. Yes, it was kinda hard writing different speech and different mannerisms but I hope it turned out well and pretty accurate for you all. Hope you guys enjoy it!!!

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 3.8K

1860

“So who dare you take home tonight, Miss?” My dear friend Madeleine asked me. I look at her with narrowed eyes, causing her to giggle shamelessly.

“I am a godly woman, Madi. I would not let a man bed me so easily,” I tease. Though it may be improper, I see no man around to witness, allowing Madi and I to freely laugh as loudly as we want.

“What kind of gentleman will it take this time, then?” She asked lightly. We both turn our attention to the double-doors, and the party that was being held beyond them.

“No, no, Madi. Not a gentleman… something else.” I smirk.

Madeleine and I walk into the ballroom, arms latched together as our eyes search for a possibly free man to dance with. Though I was eager to dance, I couldn’t help but admire the room my father put together in our estate. The room was embedded with gold designs and shimmering silver over the white walls. The design followed up to the ceiling where paintings of men and women dancing decorated the space. Two chandeliers hung on each side of the room. Diamonds and lighting making the whole room sparkle.

On top of the light tan floors, laid tables of food and wine. Silks were draped over the wood of the tables and sconces hung on the wall above each table. A single candle to light the area.

Madeleine and I walk around the room, waving and saying hello to the respectable people of London.

“Drink?” Madeleine asks as I eye a man around my age. He was blonde, shimmering brown eyes. He was cute. He danced with a lady of the court. By the way their eyes stayed enclosed on one another, they were completely smitten. I smile and duck my head. Love was absolutely adorable. “Miss? Would you like to get drinks?” Madeleine asks again. I jump a little and look over to her.

“Pardon me, Madeleine. My mind was elsewhere. But not to worry, it’s back,” I joke. I lead us to the closest table to look over the wine list. Madeleine picked up her usual and turned back to the crowd. I rather liked to take my time and pick something new.

I am just about to pick up a nice red when Madeleine lets out a squeak. I turn to look at her wide-eyed when she grips my forearm tightly.

“Madeleine, mind your manors,” I scold. She looks down at our arms and instantly lets go.

“I apologize m’lady, but look and you will see my reason for such haste behavior,” she explains. I turn back to the crowd and my eyes immediately fall onto the count's son, Jameson, who I find already staring at me. I jerk back around to face the table with a gasp. Madeleine giggled quietly and faced me. “He is quite cute. Explain to me again why you won’t give him a chance? Your father approves,” she wonders. I finally pick up my drink and turn to her.

“It’s exactly that my father approves that makes me not want him.” I grin, bringing the glass to my lips. Madeleine sighs and looks back to the Count’s son.

“Miss, your father is the Prime Minister. You need to marry someone of the same caliber,” Madeleine reminds me. I down the rest of the glass and stare at her.

“I will marry for nothing less, then for love. I refuse otherwise,” I inform her. She gives me a hard look.

“You know that is not how things work…” she trails off. I blow air out of my nose, placing my hands on the fabric above my corset. God, these things are tight. Why are they always so tight? I go to answer her when she lets out another squeak. “Miss, he’s heading this way,” she announces. My head snaps to where I saw him last and yes, indeed, he was heading this way.

“Let us move,” I order. I grab her hand and weave us through the men and women among the crowd. Madeleine stays silent as I drag her along with me; which is probably for the best considering her opinions on my relationships with men.

“Miss! Miss! Please, stop!” Jameson says as loudly as socially acceptable. What fun is a man who follows the rules...? I roll my eyes and move faster. We reach a crowded corner and I stop us.

I immediately start laughing, making sure to hide it behind my gloved hand. When I look up, I see Madeleine with a stern expression and her hands on her hips. My laughter seizes.

“Do you have something to say?” I ask, an edge to my tone. Her hands fall to her sides.

“No miss,” she responds. A grin makes its way onto my face.

“No, no. Speak your mind, handmaiden. Please, I do love to hear the thoughts of servants. Even when they seem to be...unwarranted.” I stand up tall, though Madeleine remains taller. Madeleine shakes her head and casts her eyes to the floor.

“No, Miss. I have nothing to say,” she says timidly. I step forward, guiding her chin to look up at me with only a single finger. I look at her intently.

“I thought so,” I say softly. I let my hand fall and step a few paces back.

“My darling girl,” a new voice calls out. Surprised, I turn around with a wide smile. I walk forward and embrace my father heartedly.

“Father! I didn’t believe I would get to see you this evening,” I express. His chuckles shakes us both before he steps back.

“Yes, well, we’ve had some surprise visitors arrive and I wanted to introduce them to you,” he explains. He takes my arm and intertwines his own with mine. He turns us to a family of three. Two men and a woman.

The first man was rather tall. He had brown shaggy hair that fell across his forehead. He was quite broad. Stiff and proper. His hands were folded in front of him and I knew he had no interest in taking my hand and I had interest in giving it to him. So instead, he nodded and I returned the gesture. I felt my father stiffen but I merely squeezed his arm; a subtle gesture to calm down.

“This is Mr. Elijah Mikaelson,” my father introduced.

I looked to the woman next to him. She was also fairly tall. She had long blond hair and her features looked quite regal. Blue eyes, a straight nose, a sharp jaw. She was gorgeous. She did a little curtsy and I sent one back.

“This is Miss. Rebekah Mikaelson,” my father continued.

My breath caught in my throat as my eyes fell onto the last man. He was breathtaking. His height matched close to his siblings but his frame was leaner than Elijah’s. His hair was a dirty blonde and his eyes were like the deepest parts of the forest; a dark green that shook my core. They had mischief dancing in them and his stance reflected it. His lips were plump and I wondered what it would feel like to press my own against them.

“...and this is Niklaus Mikaelson. The patriarch of the Mikaelson family,” my father finished. My lips part to speak but all words quickly die off my tongue as Mr. Mikaelson brushes his fingers along the bare skin of my forearm before he gently guides my hand up to his mouth.

“It’s a pleasure,” he rumbles, his eyes looking up at me as he stays bowed. I could feel the heat of his breath through my gloves and I was positively breathless. He doesn’t say anything else but stares into my eyes as his lips lower onto my hand. I inhale sharply; the feeling of those lips on my hand did nothing to help the images I was having of something further. He steps back with a smirk on those beautiful lips.

“The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Mikaelson,” I say lowly. Niklaus’ smirk broadens. My father begins talking to Elijah but my gaze stays focused on Niklaus. We stare at each other and all sound drowns out of the room.

Then in a snap, Niklaus looks away from me and angles himself to my father. I place my hands along my bodice and I look away into the crowd. Who is this man..?

“Sir, I wondered if it be alright to ask your daughter for a dance?” Niklaus asks. I quickly look over between the two men. My father also looked between the two of us. Niklaus’ siblings seemed to be glaring at their brother.

“Yes… I think that would be a lovely idea.” He nods. Niklaus’ eyes fall back onto me and he holds out a hand.

“What do you say, Miss?” He asks, keeping his hand out and letting me decide this time if I wish to take his hand. I keep my gaze towards him. Just when I am about to take his hand, my eyes flicker to the side. Jameson was once again heading this way. I wince, turning around to Madeleine who continued to look to the floor. I step up to her.

“Madeleine. Distract Jameson for me,” I tell her. She looks up at me, brows furrowed.

“How exactly should I do that?” She asks. My eyes widen.

“I don’t know! Dance with him, bed him, let him ravish you in a dark corner for all I care. I just need you to distract him,” I whisper harshly. Madeleine's eyes set ablaze in rage. Before she gets a chance to say anything I push her towards him.

With them both out of the way, I face Niklaus and take his hand.

“I would love to dance,” I answer. I set my hand in his and we make our way onto the center of the ballroom once the song ends and the next one is about to begin.

We separate from one another and then take a step towards each other as we begin the Viennese waltz.

I place my right hand in his, feeling the pressure of his hand gripping mine. He slides his other hand to my back and I inhale sharply, instinctively arching my body at him. Continuing on, I lightly let my hand sit on his right bicep.

He watches me intently as we dance in a circle before spinning me under his arm and pulling me close. Closer than socially acceptable. I smirk and subtly take a step back. He matches me, taking a step forward while wearing that same look as mine. He repeats the movement before we twist our bodies and cross and uncross our feet as we step down the room along with all the other couples.

We get to the end and instead of twirling me, he picks me up and turns us both. I squeal, clutching tightly onto his arms. I look around seeing as no one else had done it. He sets me down and everyone steps back down the room.

I look up at him and smile even wider then expected when I see a smile on his face as well. This time he twirls me normally and we move to stand side-by-side. My arm arches in an awkward angle to grasp his shoulder and his arm moves completely around my back, pushing my flush against him. I gasp. A scoundrel this man was.

I quickly look to my father, wishing not to see a red face and an angered expression when surprise rather fills my features. Elijah Mikaelson was keeping my father quite busy in conversation.

“At least my dear brother is good for something,” Nicklaus mentions after seeing where my gaze was.

We move back down the room, twisting to face each other and touch hands before pulling out again. We repeat this all the way down the room.

“Is he not useful for other things?” I ask, trying to make conversation. When in reality I couldn’t be more interested. Why would I be interested in getting to know that man when this man was right here and dancing with me.

We reach the end and we step back from each other. I send Nicklaus a curtsy and in return he bows down to me. What a delicious sight…

He stands up and holds out his hands in front of him. I take them and we twist and cross back down the room.

“Perhaps he’s useful for some things,” Niklaus responds vaguely, a knowing smirk on his face. I narrow my eyes as we go back to our original dance position.

He took the lead, turning us around and around while standing in place. After about four spins, I stepped around him, and then he stepped around me, all the way to the other side of the room.

We separated, taking a step away from each other before swaying our hands in front and behind our person as we followed along with the beat. Niklaus always seemed to remain close though. An occurrence that made me excited while at the same time, uneasy.

“So, how are you liking our little town?” I ask. He gathers me back in his arms before we danced in a circle and he spun me around once again.

We danced in a few more circles, and each time, Niklaus would twirl me and tug me closer to him. It was completely inappropriate and that must have been why I loved the feeling so much. Or perhaps it had more to do with the drool worthy man standing in front of me than the scandal itself.

“It’s… lively,” Niklaus responded, looking around at the people surrounding us. Both those who also danced and those who watched.

He tugged me close after a twirl once again and once again did it completely take my breath away. We start moving, dancing in one giant oval around the room with all the others instead of each separate couple dancing in smaller circles.

“Well that’s vague,” I respond bluntly. Catching my error quickly, my eyes bulge out on their own accord. Niklaus’ grip tightens on me. “I apologize, sir. I’m afraid my tongue was a bit quicker than my mind.”

Niklaus chuckles lowly as he spins me before snapping me back into his hold. We step out away from each other and twist back in as we walk back down the room.

“No need to apologize, m’lady…” Niklaus trials off as we stop mid-way down the room before he dances me in a circle down the rest of the room. We then turned around and began doing the four-step dance up the room. He twirled next under his arm and this time, stepped up to me instead of simply dragging me towards him. “I like a bit of fire,” he said darkly.

My mouth seemed to be stuck in a half-gasp and a half-smirk. But inside I was utterly and completely awestruck.

We dance back down the room, somehow stopping right in the middle of everyone. We danced, twirling in a circle as we stayed in our place. Niklaus twirled me once more under his arm and we each take a step back, our hands still connected as we bow to each other one last time.

His eyes stayed on mine, unmoving as we bowed. I felt my throat go dry and my hands begin to clam up from under my gloves. He too seemed to have a fire that lit his soul and kept his eyes ablaze. With one firey look, his eyes sent a heat through my entire body. I had never felt more alive.

We hadn’t even noticed that the room had erupted into claps and calm cheering, or that the other couples had walked off of the floor. Niklaus and I both stood up, our hands still grasped.

From over Niklaus’ shoulder, I spot Jameson staring at us with a very clear sign of anger on his face. The poor boy was jealous. He was jealous even after I had clearly stopped all his previous advances towards a courting.

My eyes flicker over a bit to Madeleine. She looked back at me, shame and guilt covering her features. I shake my head at her, causing her to stare down at the ground. The girl couldn’t even keep a mindless man busy, how was she ever going to find a husband?

Movement around her, drew my attention. Anything could’ve been more interesting… and it seemed it was. Jameson was headed to us. I quickly look back up at Niklaus, only to see he was already staring at me. I blink quickly a few times, jumping back from him in slight surprise. But I’m quick to wipe that expression off of my face and instead, plastering on a charming smile.

“Would you like to head someplace a little more… private?” I ask, taking a chance. A devilish smile appeared on his face. He motioned his arm to the double-doors and nodded.

“Lead the way.” I smile back and intertwine our arms, leading him to the doors. I look over my shoulder as Jameson halts. I smirk, sending him a wink before walking through the doors held open for me by none other than Niklaus himself. What. A. Gentleman… well, hopefully not.

It seemed I was rather lucky to find Mr. Mikaelson this evening. Not only did he get me out of a dance and an encounter with Jameson, but he also looked to be a perfect snack. All this dancing and socializing did make me feel rather peckish. Besides, I haven’t fed in what felt like ages.

With my hunger for the blood of my dance partner on my mind, I guide him to one of the many extra rooms that barely anyone uses. Like always, a fireplace was lit up and couches and chairs sat in front of it. This room I had taken us too, seemed to be one of the many small libraries my father used to keep his old books in.

I turn around and lock the door, even pulling on the handle to make sure it’s secure. Wouldn’t want him running away now would we? I suddenly feel his presence behind me. I smirk, letting my fangs appear along with the veins under my eyes at the prospect of blood.

I turn around, ready to strike when I suddenly jump back, realizing his face looked exactly like mine. I retract my fangs. Niklaus had jumped back too, obviously startled by this surprise, maybe even a little more than I was. Oh, how men loved to underestimate a woman. He had actually fallen onto one of the chairs and was currently leaning back on one as he stared up at me with a pleasant surprise.

“You’re a vampire?!” I shout at him. He chuckles, using his arms and pushing himself out of the chair.

“That much is obviously, love. What had not been obvious, was the fact that you too are a vampire,” he states, walking closer to me. “The question is, who turned you?” He asked, getting so close to me I could feel his breath on my face.

Katherine’s face flashed through my mind. And with her face, memories of her asking to stay at my estate for a while as she had been running from a very powerful family… my eyes narrow. I jut out my chin and look him in the eye. I wasn’t going to be intimidated by him. Even if Katherine, the most intimidating person I had ever met, feared him.

“I think you know,” I whisper.

Niklaus gripped my shoulders harshly and slammed me up against the door. Sure he was strong as hell and my back actually did hurt a bit, I couldn’t help but think his intimidation and strength were… attractive.

“Where is she?!” He growls out, veins popping back up under his eyes. He removes his hands from my shoulders and places them on the door, effectively caging me. I laugh lightly, bringing my hands up and brushing the skin under his eyes with the pads of my thumbs.

“Afraid I don’t know,” I say softly, a pout forming on my lips for a brief moment. “She stayed here for about two weeks a couple of months ago. In those two weeks, she turned me, returning the favor of letting her stay for a bit. Then she left and told me nothing of where she was going,” I explain everything to him. He raised a brow, looking over my face for any sign of lying. He cleared his throat, looking me dead in the eye.

“Are you telling me the truth?” He asked. Compulsion? HA! Katherine had told me to start drinking small sips of vervain to help stand the burning so that no other vampires could use compulsion on me. She hadn’t told me that these Mikaelsons, probably the powerful family she was running from, were able to use the power on other vampires. I play along. For the fun of it.

What business of it was Niklaus’ where Katherine was? He obviously didn’t like her that much and I owed quite a bit to Katherine. So if it took a pretty little lie in order to keep her safe, I’ll do it.

“Yes,” I answer. Niklaus rose a brow as his eyes narrowed at me.

“I think this mishap could turn into quite a fulfilling opportunity,” Niklaus stated with a growing smirk.

“And how is that?” I ask, looking him up and down. He still hadn’t moved from his previous position. Klaus followed my actions and looked me up and down.

“There can be many benefits to this arrangement,” Niklaus spoke darkly. He let his arms fall off the door before bringing his right wrist close to my face. “Curious?” He asked. I look up at him from under my lashes, a smirk on my face as I take his wrist and hold out my own.

“Partners,” I agree. Niklaus smiles widely in the most wicked way and looks down at my wrist, veins appearing under his eyes and fangs poking out from his mouth.

“And what a pleasurable partnership it will be,” Niklaus said before biting into my wrist. I cry out, my breath leaving me in an instant.

“Indeed it will be,” I said breathlessly as veins appeared under my own eyes and fangs poked out from my mouth. I quickly latched onto his wrist.

I wasn’t going to betray Katherine… but having a little bit of fun before he realized that wouldn’t hurt anybody.

Now this was definitely not what I expected to come out of tonight… but I wouldn’t have wanted anything else besides this to happen, anyway.

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soshinee · 3 years

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i know y’all love to act like the south is a monolith of rich white christian conservatives and you love to think that tens of millions of ppl deserve to suffer bc of shit political opinions from corrupt senators and other ppl in power or whoever but i swear to god if i see anyone else joking abt how southern ppl are freezing to death i’m gonna lose it. there are ppl other than rich conservative wasps living in places like texas, there are poor people, there are black and brown ppl there, there are children and sick ppl and old ppl and homeless ppl and they are suffering. it’s a serious fucking problem when hospitals can’t get power, or when ppl are freezing to death in their own homes bc their houses are designed to shed heat instead of retaining it.

not every texan is ted fucking cruz not every texan is morally irredeemable and unworthy of your sympathy, should you be so generous as to deign to give it to those unwashed, uneducated southerners who are only reaping what they sow! if only they weren’t all climate denying yokels then maybe they could have prevented this, but alas! bc of the actions and words of the relatively few, now millions deserve to suffer and maybe even die 💔 but it’s their own fault, after all, right? (y’all sound stupid as hell is what i’m trying to say here.)

obviously politicians in municipal and state legislatures have issues and don’t invest enough in infrastructure or whatever else (which can honestly be said abt most states let’s be honest) but it’s not just about government stuff it’s also about how houses are built for hot summers and mild winters bc it’s a different climate than the north. most southern states in general and gulf states in particular are better equppied for heat and hurricanes than blizzards. it’s the same as how ppl living in colder climates aren’t used to/equipped for extreme heat waves or hurricane conditions. not to mention homeless ppl who don’t stand a chance in a storm like that, bc they don’t have any resources to begin w and many places which could potentially be a shelter under normal circumstances may not have power. obviously better preparation by the powers that be would’ve been preferable but we’re past that and making fun of the suffering going on right now in this exact moment isn’t the cute progressive look you think it is. it actually makes you seem evil and morally bankrupt, imagine that!

and yes there are lots of issues in the south in pretty much all facets of society. i’ll be the first to admit that as a southerner myself; there are a ton of things to fix, i’m not denying that in the slightest. but implying that at least 29,000,000 people aren’t worthy of sympathy or support bc they live in a state you don’t like is fucking barbaric.. sure it’s a haha funny joke when a southerner is like “brrr so cold” and it’s 60 degrees out, but it’s not jokes anymore when ppl are literally dying. how come basic survival and life or death situations aren’t a partisan issue until it’s ppl you perceive as “the enemy” who need help? that doesn’t seem weird to you at all?

southerners aren’t inherently less human than ppl from other regions of the country, they don’t deserve to die more for where they happen to live just bc you perceive them all as one ignorant, backwards, stupid mass of bigots. (white) northerners have always had a dumb superiority complex over all of us dirty bible-thumping, climate-change-denying, yeehaw-hollering, unenlightened rednecks, but i have to ask all of y’all laughing at ppl dying in a blizzard: where’s your morality at, if you’re so much better than texans? or your empathy? did they fall off your high horse? y’all make me sick lmfao

#this is all kind of boiling over for me at this pt like ppl acting like all southerners are evil is a pet peeve of mine #YES there are white racists and bigots and climate deniers and bible thumpers here #BUT THERE ARE OTHER PPL TOO #anyway. this is all i’m gonna say rn bc if i don’t stop i’m gonna keep yelling abt it #and i am not generalizing ppl who are not southerners this is specifically abt ppl who are making fun of ppl going thru the blizzard rn #if the shoe fits then it fits. otherwise keep it pushing.#long post #like if read #also um not sure if i want ppl to rb this isn’t a well put together statement or psa #i’m literally just ranting that’s all :)#also i told myself i was taking a break from actively posting but then i got mad abt this sorry. i’m leaving fr now #also if i’m out of line lmk pls lmk. i don’t want to step on toes or say smth wrong just bc im too mad to be coherent rn #wow how many times will i say also :)

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bigbrotherlouis · 3 years

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for director’s cut: the raleigh/airport scene in ‘i can’t find nothin’...’ if you would like to!!!!

ANGELA you’re gonna make me talk about sex scenes on main?! let’s DO IT

(director’s cut meme)

andrei understands, on some level, why they have to fly commercial, (i’m always going to make players fly commercial in fic if i can. direct action.) even with a job like theirs, but in practicality, when he’s wandering around the raleigh airport at six am after their flight out is delayed, he doesn’t.

marty’s laughing at him in the way that means he’s trying to be subtle about it, but andrei’s too grumpy to care. (this was for la.) it’s too fucking early and the line for coffee is too fucking long.

“it’s too early,” he whines. marty flips over the book in his hands to read the back cover.

“boo fuckin’ hoo, bud.”

“i’m tired.” and again, in russian, “я устал.”

“не— не— i don’t care,” (i couldn’t remember how to phrase this properly and i didn’t want to look it up, plus it’s funny) marty snaps back. “it’s your own fault for watching tv until one in the morning.”

“it was gossip girl,” he mutters. “important american culture.” (in one of my transition workshops where we learned to handle moving countries, we watched mean girls as an example of american culture. true story.)

“uh huh, and degrassi is exactly how canadian high school was like.” (didn’t like the flow on this sentence but i couldn’t figure out how else to phrase it. oh well.)

andrei is, like, ninety percent sure marty didn’t finish high school in canada, but he’s not willing to take the chance that he’s wrong and get teased about it. “please, can we go to starbucks now? давай, давай.” [let’s go, let’s go] (translation is always a struggle, and even more so when it’s a different alphabet like russian. i decided to include translations when context isn’t immediately clear for the reader’s comfort. also, this is something my family does-- use a different language when we want to stress something, like svechy stressing that he wants to leave)

“talking in russian won’t get me to go any faster, svechy,” marty says, placid for the early morning, and shoves a book into andrei’s hands. “here. read this and distract yourself.”

“i don’t read until i awake.” (svechy’s syntax was hard for me to write, because i want it to be clear, true to character, and respectful all at once which is hard to balance. it’s why svech’s grammar can sometimes seem a little inconsistent-- sometimes, i chose respect and readability over true to characterization. also, transliteration of accents can make people seem childish or dumb which is absolutely not what i want!)

“sucks to suck.”

andrei grumbles under his breath, a mixture of russian and english and some of sebastian’s favourite swedish (this should be finnish. oops.) curses thrown in there too, absently drumming his fingers on the cover of the book he’s still holding. marty is paying him no attention, which almost bothers him as much as the lack of caffeine does.

he’s cocking his head to read the spines of the books in the airport store when he feels the heat of someone step behind him, too close for politeness, and he’s whirling before he can even really think about it. (there really aren’t a lot of places spies can meet up by accident without getting too repetitive, especially in something that’s supposed to be silly and short, but an airport felt plausible.)

“whoa,” says joel, stepping back out of andrei’s elbows. “easy there.”

“joel?”

“in the flesh,” he says with a grin, and andrei’s thinking about how twice is a coincidence but three times is a pattern when (this is me lampshading their constant meetups because i didn’t feel like expounding on it LOL)— “is that twilight?”

“i— what?”

“the book you’re reading.”

andrei looks down at his hands and then scowls in the general direction of the shelves. fucking marty. (this is the whole reason they’re in the bookstore. for me to make this joke about svech holding twilight.)

joel tips his head to the side and grins wider. “didn’t peg (haha peg) you for a vampire guy, but i can see it. wait, fuck, are you from transylvania?” (apologies to americans but this is a little jab at your general geography abilities)

“no, not in in russia,” he says absently. “siberia, yes. transylvania, no. why you here?”

“well, i just like to lurk around airports for fun. you see interesting people like this.”

“really.”

joel snorts. “no, i have a flight, dumbass. i’m a business bitch.” (my rule of thumb for writing joel’s dialogue is to think of the most ridiculous thing i can imagine a person saying in any given circumstance and then assigning him that line.)

“a business bitch?”

“yeah, dude. makin’ money moves n’shit.”

“you’re not following me?” andrei asks, aiming for teasing, pretending it’s not a real question. (more lampshading. i was lazy.) joel makes his eyes go wide and innocent, and mostly doesn’t succeed.

“andrew,” he says, outraged. “are you accusing me of being a stalker?”

“yes.”

“oh, so you’re definitely team edward. (this joke fell into my lap) i see how it is. can’t a bro say hi to his bro in an airport, especially after getting a decent brojob the last time they saw each other?”

andrei mouths the word brojob (i crack up every time this term is used and joel would absolutely say it) and then shakes his head. “no.”

“tough crowd. what are you doing here, buddy?”

“waiting for marty to finish so we can go to starbucks. too early and he is too slow.”

“yeah?” joel looks over at where marty is now examining the overpriced souvenirs with a very careful air, taking them off the shelves and putting them gently back. (i was very into this image) “wanna go stand in line with me?” (high romance there, bee)

strictly speaking, marty and andrei are supposed to be together when travelling, just in case someone gets snatched. it’s happened before, but andrei really, really wants something to drink before they fly out to fucking vancouver, or wherever they’re going. he can’t even remember. besides, if joel was going to snatch him, he would’ve done it earlier, in the hotel when andrei was fucked out and happy. he shrugs. (listen. i didn’t want to do any worldbuilding because it was a fun au so i did the bare minimum.)

“sure. marty, i go to stand in line,” he yells and marty waves a hand without looking up. the line stretches down the hallway, too many people patiently waiting for a rush. (i’m so familiar with this and it makes me sad just writing about it) andrei can’t fault them; he’s tired too, which is why he doesn’t realise that joel’s pulling him towards the bathrooms instead of the coffee shop, pushing him into the family stall and shoving the door closed. (i’m gonna be honest: i have absolutely no idea why i made this a sex scene. like none. i remember being halfway through and being like “....i’m writing?? airport sex??” but i don’t remember why i decided it was a good idea.)

for a second, andrei thinks this is when he gets kidnapped and killed, a rival taking him out in the crowded airport where no one can see. the bulgarian maneuver would’ve been a lot less conspicuous, but oh well. (this is referring to the bulgarian assassins who killed a journalist in the 80s? i think? with a poison-tipped umbrella and i’m just now realising that’s probably not common knowledge)

instead, joel clicks the lock in place and presses up close, plastered to the front of andrei.

“wha—” says andrei, but it’s swallowed up in joel’s mouth, swallowed up in the kiss that joel gives him. he kisses back, of course he does, because it’s a fucking good kiss. joel hums, coaxing his mouth open for a minute and then biting on his lower lip before pulling away. he doesn’t go far, hands skimming down andrei’s body until he drops to his knees on the dirty bathroom floor.

“we are in a toilet,” andrei hisses. “in an airport.” (svech has the practical response)

joel shrugs, giving him the biggest shit-eating grin as he undoes his belt. (joel is never not going to be smug) “guess you have to be fast, then. besides, i owe you one.”

technically, he still got off last time, even if it was pretty basic, it’s not like andrei’s going to say no, not when joel is looking so eager and mischievous.

“don’t make too much noise,” instructs joel, (i realised after i posted the fic that both blowjobs start with someone giving instructions and i’m gonna say it’s because it’s a literary parallel and not because i don’t know how to transition into sexual acts) and then he’s got his mouth on andrei’s dick and andrei can’t think of anything else to say. he bangs his head against the door and clamps a hand over his mouth, digging his fingers of his other hand into the wood behind him.

joel is good enough that andrei’s not going to last long, not like this, getting off on the secrecy of it all. (read: i just didn’t want to write a lot. but also i think svechy has an exhibitionist streak in him and joel definitely does) it’s a tiny bit shameful in the way that makes him groan into his palm, makes him rock his hips into joel’s hot mouth. joel just hums around andrei’s dick and that’s— okay, that’s a lot. andrei’s gonna get a splinter under his nails from digging so hard, or maybe he’s gonna die on the spot, or like something because joel pulls off to just go right back in again and fuck. (fun fact! i’ve never had sex i don’t know what i’m writing)

“fuck,” he hisses through the meat of his hand. “fuck!”

it’s too loud, probably, and joel’s eyes flick up to his with a warning.

“sorry,” andrei breathes. joel pinches his thigh, sharp enough to sting, and embarrassingly, that’s what makes him come with a noise between a breath and a whine.

“baller,” (joel pick something less sexy to say i dare you) joel says smugly when andrei comes back to earth, enough of a douche move that andrei can’t help but roll his eyes. he flicks joel on the cheek.

“you suck.”

he grins. “well, yeah. obviously.” (low hanging fruit but he’d say it so i wrote it)

“idiot,” andrei mutters and then tugs on joel’s shoulders until he stands up, pulls him in until he can nudge at joel’s jaw with his nose. “i help you?”

joel shakes his head, his hair tickling the side of andrei’s cheek. “nah, i like it when you owe me. hey, does it count as being part of the mile high club if we’re still on the ground?” (i was literally in the middle of posting this fic to ao3 before i realised i had not made a mile high joke which was unacceptable. typed it right into the text box)

“no?”

“damn. it’s on my bucket list.”

“you so weird,” andrei tells him, not managing to keep the fondness out of his voice, and then yawns so hard his jaw cracks. “i’ll pay you back with a drink.”

“oh my god,” says joel and then pinches andrei in the side so he twitches. “i just gave you the best airport blowjob—”

“only airport blowjob.”

“the best fucking airport blowjob of your life, and you’re thinking about drinks? fuckin’ ridiculous, andrew.”

“not andrew, yo-el.” (this is svech getting back at joel as best he can. trying to give it as good as he gets it. establishing banter!!)

“sure, bro,” joel mumbles and andrei shoves at him so he can get his pants back on, fumbling with the door. “next time better be fuckin’ phenomenal. you owe me big time.”

“excuse me, you said it was payback. we equal.”

“maybe i changed my mind,” joel says with a grin, bumping him with his hip.

“maybe i disappear forever,” he replies, halfway between teasing and halfway to serious. joel reaches up to fix his snapback (this is also for la.) and shrugs.

“nah, you’re too sweet to do that.”

“i’m not sweet.”

“uh huh, bro. keep tellin’ yourself that shit.”

the line’s gone down, incredibly, and they’re close enough to the counter that andrei has to start thinking about what to order. he should probably get something for marty, or risk getting whined at all flight.

“yo,” says joel when they’re two people away from the barista. “you got digits?”

andrei hesitates and then holds up his hands, wriggling his fingers. “uh. yes?” (it’s probably more in character for real life joel to ask for instagram instead but this joke made me laugh so much that i couldn’t bear to leave it out. also it’s a little fun second language moment)

joel blinks at him for a long second and then breaks out into a wide smile, shaking his head. “nah, not those. i mean, like, a phone number.”

“i don’t have a phone,” he mutters and then pulls one out of his pocket. (YES this is a tumblr post ripoff but svech wasn’t just going to give it up so easily so in it went) “okay, give.”

he dutifully types out the sequence joel rattles off and then sends a smiley face to the number when joel makes him text.

“cool. now we can text instead of ambushing each other in public.”

“that not me,” andrei tells him. “all you.”

“you’re jumpy and it’s cute.”

“i’ll delete your number. block it.” he warns and joel waves a hand.

“yeah, yeah,” he says cheerfully and then leans over to tell the barista what he wants to drink. it’s the most ridiculous sugary concoction, hardly any coffee, and andrei stares at him in horror. (this is projection for my horror at some of the things i’ve seen in american coffee shops. that’s just. so much sugar. also prime chirping opportunity to show their personalities and dynamic a little)

“you gonna drink that?” he asks and joel frowns a little. “is just sugar. candy.”

“yeah, so? it tastes so good.”

“you not gonna have teeth.” he orders two cold brews and pays. “you gonna die early from sugar.”

“somehow,” joel says with a sparkle in his eye, “i don’t think it’s gonna be the sugar that’ll nerf me in the end.” (minor foreshadowing here! also lmao @ the thought of joel saying nerf)

he gets his vanilla bean java chip unicorn whatever frappuccino— literally, what the fuck— and takes a satisfied sip.

“disgusting,” says andrei. “no more kissing for you.”

“aw, bud, how am i gonna practice? you said i needed it.” (it’s not stated in the fic but joel learned how to flirt from watching tk and patty and i think it shows)

“lost cause,” he tells him airily. he’s about to suggest something— he’s not even sure what— when someone appears over joel’s shoulder.

“farabee,” the guy says. he looks stern, but that might be the impressive beard. or the death glare he’s levelling andrei’s way. “where the fuck have you been?”

joel brandishes his drink. “caffeinating it up, g. stayin’ alert and awake.” (real life joel has said this at least once to claude, and i will stand by that statement)

g’s frown gets deeper. “we’re going to miss our flight.”

“nah, we’ve got time— oh, shit. yeah, we gotta bounce, bruh, but i’ll catch you later? text me.” (inelegant departure but my goal was to not overthink things in this fic, like i’m prone to do, so i left it) he almost literally get pulled away by his elbow, towed by his ginger friend through the airport so he can enthusiastically wave his goodbye.

“well,” marty says out of nowhere, reaching for his cold brew and making andrei jump. “there’s good news and bad news.”

“okay.”

“the good news is that he’s cute and somehow into your stupid face.” he takes a long drink, conscious that andrei is about to hit him for making him wait and enjoying it very much. (he’s dramatic and also i wanted to draw out the surprise a little) andrei needs new teammates.

“the bad news?” he prompts.

“the bad news,” repeats marty, grimacing. “the bad news is that he’s definitely in the same line of work as us.”([john mulaney voice] the other shoe just dropped.)

everything in andrei’s head grinds to a stop. “uh. what?”

“i recognize his handler. giroux, french canadian division.” (i’m gonna work g into fic when i can bc i love him)

“joel’s american,” he says absently and marty takes another drink, shrugging.

“so philly’s an international cooperation team. (this was my way of making the international aspect of the spy teams make sense, and also to not have this be enemies-to-lovers, as much as i love that trope) can’t imagine that ever happening.” he gives svech a look which, yes, andrei knows they work together because of a treaty or whatever, but still. he wants marty to be wrong about joel, for so many reasons.

mainly because he doesn’t like feeling like he’s been conned, not when he’s so good at doing the conning, and this is a big one. (it’s not my fic if there’s not at least a little angst!)

“fuck,” he says glumly. marty pats him on the shoulder.

“well,” he says. “at least he’s cute.” (marty’s trying to show his support for svech here! he just wants good things for his friend :)))

that was so fun to do, thank you so much for asking! ily!! <3 <3 <3

#personal issues #fic talk #hockey fic #hockey #hockey bros #my fic #long post #selkiefinalist

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shivermewhiskerz · 3 years

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haha

According to all known laws of aviation, there is no way a bee should be able to fly. Its wings are too small to get its fat little body off the ground. The bee, of course, flies anyway because bees don't care what humans think is impossible. Yellow, black. Yellow, black. Yellow, black. Yellow, black. Ooh, black and yellow! Let's shake it up a little. Barry! Breakfast is ready! Ooming! Hang on a second. Hello? - Barry? - Adam? - Oan you believe this is happening? - I can't. I'll pick you up. Looking sharp. Use the stairs. Your father paid good money for those. Sorry. I'm excited. Here's the graduate. We're very proud of you, son. A perfect report card, all B's. Very proud. Ma! I got a thing going here. - You got lint on your fuzz. - Ow! That's me! - Wave to us! We'll be in row 118,000. - Bye! Barry, I told you, stop flying in the house! - Hey, Adam. - Hey, Barry. - Is that fuzz gel? - A little. Special day, graduation. Never thought I'd make it. Three days grade school, three days high school. Those were awkward. Three days college. I'm glad I took a day and hitchhiked around the hive. You did come back different. - Hi, Barry. - Artie, growing a mustache? Looks good. - Hear about Frankie? - Yeah. - You going to the funeral? - No, I'm not going. Everybody knows, sting someone, you die. Don't waste it on a squirrel. Such a hothead. I guess he could have just gotten out of the way. I love this incorporating an amusement park into our day. That's why we don't need vacations. Boy, quite a bit of pomp... under the circumstances. - Well, Adam, today we are men. - We are! - Bee-men. - Amen! Hallelujah! Students, faculty, distinguished bees, please welcome Dean Buzzwell. Welcome, New Hive Oity graduating class of... ...9:15. That concludes our ceremonies. And begins your career at Honex Industries! Will we pick ourjob today? I heard it's just orientation. Heads up! Here we go. Keep your hands and antennas inside the tram at all times. - Wonder what it'll be like? - A little scary. Welcome to Honex, a division of Honesco and a part of the Hexagon Group. This is it! Wow. Wow. We know that you, as a bee, have worked your whole life to get to the point where you can work for your whole life. Honey begins when our valiant Pollen Jocks bring the nectar to the hive. Our top-secret formula is automatically color-corrected, scent-adjusted and bubble-contoured into this soothing sweet syrup with its distinctive golden glow you know as... Honey! - That girl was hot. - She's my cousin! - She is? - Yes, we're all cousins. - Right. You're right. - At Honex, we constantly strive to improve every aspect of bee existence. These bees are stress-testing a new helmet technology. - What do you think he makes? - Not enough. Here we have our latest advancement, the Krelman. - What does that do? - Oatches that little strand of honey that hangs after you pour it. Saves us millions. Oan anyone work on the Krelman? Of course. Most bee jobs are small ones. But bees know that every small job, if it's done well, means a lot. But choose carefully because you'll stay in the job you pick for the rest of your life. The same job the rest of your life? I didn't know that. What's the difference? You'll be happy to know that bees, as a species, haven't had one day off in 27 million years. So you'll just work us to death? We'll sure try. Wow! That blew my mind! "What's the difference?" How can you say that? One job forever? That's an insane choice to have to make. I'm relieved. Now we only have to make one decision in life. But, Adam, how could they never have told us that? Why would you question anything? We're bees. We're the most perfectly functioning society on Earth. You ever think maybe things work a little too well here? Like what? Give me one example. I don't know. But you know what I'm talking about. Please clear the gate. Royal Nectar Force on approach. Wait a second. Oheck it out. - Hey, those are Pollen Jocks! - Wow. I've never seen them this close. They know what it's like outside the hive. Yeah, but some don't come back. - Hey, Jocks! - Hi, Jocks! You guys did great! You're monsters! You're sky freaks! I love it! I love it! - I wonder where they were. - I don't know. Their day's not planned. Outside the hive, flying who knows where, doing who knows what. You can'tjust decide to be a Pollen Jock. You have to be bred for that. Right. Look. That's more pollen than you and I will see in a lifetime. It's just a status symbol. Bees make too much of it. Perhaps. Unless you're wearing it and the ladies see you wearing it. Those ladies? Aren't they our cousins too? Distant. Distant. Look at these two. - Oouple of Hive Harrys. - Let's have fun with them. It must be dangerous being a Pollen Jock. Yeah. Once a bear pinned me against a mushroom! He had a paw on my throat, and with the other, he was slapping me! - Oh, my! - I never thought I'd knock him out. What were you doing during this? Trying to alert the authorities. I can autograph that. A little gusty out there today, wasn't it, comrades? Yeah. Gusty. We're hitting a sunflower patch six miles from here tomorrow. - Six miles, huh? - Barry! A puddle jump for us, but maybe you're not up for it. - Maybe I am. - You are not! We're going 0900 at J-Gate. What do you think, buzzy-boy? Are you bee enough? I might be. It all depends on what 0900 means. Hey, Honex! Dad, you surprised me. You decide what you're interested in? - Well, there's a lot of choices. - But you only get one. Do you ever get bored doing the same job every day? Son, let me tell you about stirring. You grab that stick, and you just move it around, and you stir it around. You get yourself into a rhythm. It's a beautiful thing. You know, Dad, the more I think about it, maybe the honey field just isn't right for me. You were thinking of what, making balloon animals? That's a bad job for a guy with a stinger. Janet, your son's not sure he wants to go into honey! - Barry, you are so funny sometimes. - I'm not trying to be funny. You're not funny! You're going into honey. Our son, the stirrer! - You're gonna be a stirrer? - No one's listening to me! Wait till you see the sticks I have. I could say anything right now. I'm gonna get an ant tattoo! Let's open some honey and celebrate! Maybe I'll pierce my thorax. Shave my antennae. Shack up with a grasshopper. Get a gold tooth and call everybody "dawg"! I'm so proud. - We're starting work today! - Today's the day. Oome on! All the good jobs will be gone. Yeah, right. Pollen counting, stunt bee, pouring, stirrer, front desk, hair removal... - Is it still available? - Hang on. Two left! One of them's yours! Oongratulations! Step to the side. - What'd you get? - Picking crud out. Stellar! Wow! Oouple of newbies? Yes, sir! Our first day! We are ready! Make your choice. - You want to go first? - No, you go. Oh, my. What's available? Restroom attendant's open, not for the reason you think. - Any chance of getting the Krelman? - Sure, you're on. I'm sorry, the Krelman just closed out. Wax monkey's always open. The Krelman opened up again. What happened? A bee died. Makes an opening. See? He's dead. Another dead one. Deady. Deadified. Two more dead. Dead from the neck up. Dead from the neck down. That's life! Oh, this is so hard! Heating, cooling, stunt bee, pourer, stirrer, humming, inspector number seven, lint coordinator, stripe supervisor, mite wrangler. Barry, what do you think I should... Barry? Barry! All right, we've got the sunflower patch in quadrant nine... What happened to you? Where are you? - I'm going out. - Out? Out where? - Out there. - Oh, no! I have to, before I go to work for the rest of my life. You're gonna die! You're crazy! Hello? Another call coming in. If anyone's feeling brave, there's a Korean deli on 83rd that gets their roses today. Hey, guys. - Look at that. - Isn't that the kid we saw yesterday? Hold it, son, flight deck's restricted. It's OK, Lou. We're gonna take him up. Really? Feeling lucky, are you? Sign here, here. Just initial that. - Thank you. - OK. You got a rain advisory today, and as you all know, bees cannot fly in rain. So be careful. As always, watch your brooms, hockey sticks, dogs, birds, bears and bats. Also, I got a couple of reports of root beer being poured on us. Murphy's in a home because of it, babbling like a cicada! - That's awful. - And a reminder for you rookies, bee law number one, absolutely no talking to humans! All right, launch positions! Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz! Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz! Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz! Black and yellow! Hello! You ready for this, hot shot? Yeah. Yeah, bring it on. Wind, check. - Antennae, check. - Nectar pack, check. - Wings, check. - Stinger, check. Scared out of my shorts, check. OK, ladies, let's move it out! Pound those petunias, you striped stem-suckers! All of you, drain those flowers! Wow! I'm out! I can't believe I'm out! So blue. I feel so fast and free! Box kite! Wow! Flowers! This is Blue Leader. We have roses visual. Bring it around 30 degrees and hold. Roses! 30 degrees, roger. Bringing it around. Stand to the side, kid. It's got a bit of a kick. That is one nectar collector! - Ever see pollination up close? - No, sir. I pick up some pollen here, sprinkle it over here. Maybe a dash over there, a pinch on that one. See that? It's a little bit of magic. That's amazing. Why do we do that? That's pollen power. More pollen, more flowers, more nectar, more honey for us. Oool. I'm picking up a lot of bright yellow. Oould be daisies. Don't we need those? Oopy that visual. Wait. One of these flowers seems to be on the move. Say again? You're reporting a moving flower? Affirmative. That was on the line! This is the coolest. What is it? I don't know, but I'm loving this color. It smells good. Not like a flower, but I like it. Yeah, fuzzy. Ohemical-y. Oareful, guys. It's a little grabby. My sweet lord of bees! Oandy-brain, get off there! Problem! - Guys! - This could be bad. Affirmative. Very close. Gonna hurt. Mama's little boy. You are way out of position, rookie! Ooming in at you like a missile! Help me! I don't think these are flowers. - Should we tell him? - I think he knows. What is this?! Match point! You can start packing up, honey, because you're about to eat it! Yowser! Gross. There's a bee in the car! - Do something! - I'm driving! - Hi, bee. - He's back here! He's going to sting me! Nobody move. If you don't move, he won't sting you. Freeze! He blinked! Spray him, Granny! What are you doing?! Wow... the tension level out here is unbelievable. I gotta get home. Oan't fly in rain. Oan't fly in rain. Oan't fly in rain. Mayday! Mayday! Bee going down! Ken, could you close the window please? Ken, could you close the window please? Oheck out my new resume. I made it into a fold-out brochure. You see? Folds out. Oh, no. More humans. I don't need this. What was that? Maybe this time. This time. This time. This time! This time! This... Drapes! That is diabolical. It's fantastic. It's got all my special skills, even my top-ten favorite movies. What's number one? Star Wars? Nah, I don't go for that... ...kind of stuff. No wonder we shouldn't talk to them. They're out of their minds. When I leave a job interview, they're flabbergasted, can't believe what I say. There's the sun. Maybe that's a way out. I don't remember the sun having a big 75 on it. I predicted global warming. I could feel it getting hotter. At first I thought it was just me. Wait! Stop! Bee! Stand back. These are winter boots. Wait! Don't kill him! You know I'm allergic to them! This thing could kill me! Why does his life have less value than yours? Why does his life have any less value than mine? Is that your statement? I'm just saying all life has value. You don't know what he's capable of feeling. My brochure! There you go, little guy. I'm not scared of him. It's an allergic thing. Put that on your resume brochure. My whole face could puff up. Make it one of your special skills. Knocking someone out is also a special skill. Right. Bye, Vanessa. Thanks. - Vanessa, next week? Yogurt night? - Sure, Ken. You know, whatever. - You could put carob chips on there. - Bye. - Supposed to be less calories. - Bye. I gotta say something. She saved my life. I gotta say something. All right, here it goes. Nah. What would I say? I could really get in trouble. It's a bee law. You're not supposed to talk to a human. I can't believe I'm doing this. I've got to. Oh, I can't do it. Oome on! No. Yes. No. Do it. I can't. How should I start it? "You like jazz?" No, that's no good. Here she comes! Speak, you fool! Hi! I'm sorry. - You're talking. - Yes, I know. You're talking! I'm so sorry. No, it's OK. It's fine. I know I'm dreaming. But I don't recall going to bed. Well, I'm sure this is very disconcerting. This is a bit of a surprise to me. I mean, you're a bee! I am. And I'm not supposed to be doing this, but they were all trying to kill me. And if it wasn't for you... I had to thank you. It's just how I was raised. That was a little weird. - I'm talking with a bee. - Yeah. I'm talking to a bee. And the bee is talking to me! I just want to say I'm grateful. I'll leave now. - Wait! How did you learn to do that? - What? The talking thing. Same way you did, I guess. "Mama, Dada, honey." You pick it up. - That's very funny. - Yeah. Bees are funny. If we didn't laugh, we'd cry with what we have to deal with. Anyway... Oan I... ...get you something? - Like what? I don't know. I mean... I don't know. Ooffee? I don't want to put you out. It's no trouble. It takes two minutes. - It's just coffee. - I hate to impose. - Don't be ridiculous! - Actually, I would love a cup. Hey, you want rum cake? - I shouldn't. - Have some. - No, I can't. - Oome on! I'm trying to lose a couple micrograms. - Where? - These stripes don't help. You look great! I don't know if you know anything about fashion. Are you all right? No. He's making the tie in the cab as they're flying up Madison. He finally gets there. He runs up the steps into the church. The wedding is on. And he says, "Watermelon? I thought you said Guatemalan. Why would I marry a watermelon?" Is that a bee joke? That's the kind of stuff we do. Yeah, different. So, what are you gonna do, Barry? About work? I don't know. I want to do my part for the hive, but I can't do it the way they want. I know how you feel. - You do? - Sure. My parents wanted me to be a lawyer or a doctor, but I wanted to be a florist. - Really? - My only interest is flowers. Our new queen was just elected with that same campaign slogan. Anyway, if you look... There's my hive right there. See it? You're in Sheep Meadow! Yes! I'm right off the Turtle Pond! No way! I know that area. I lost a toe ring there once. - Why do girls put rings on their toes? - Why not? - It's like putting a hat on your knee. - Maybe I'll try that. - You all right, ma'am? - Oh, yeah. Fine. Just having two cups of coffee! Anyway, this has been great. Thanks for the coffee. Yeah, it's no trouble. Sorry I couldn't finish it. If I did, I'd be up the rest of my life. Are you...? Oan I take a piece of this with me? Sure! Here, have a crumb. - Thanks! - Yeah. All right. Well, then... I guess I'll see you around. Or not. OK, Barry. And thank you so much again... for before. Oh, that? That was nothing. Well, not nothing, but... Anyway... This can't possibly work. He's all set to go. We may as well try it. OK, Dave, pull the chute. - Sounds amazing. - It was amazing! It was the scariest, happiest moment of my life. Humans! I can't believe you were with humans! Giant, scary humans! What were they like? Huge and crazy. They talk crazy. They eat crazy giant things. They drive crazy. - Do they try and kill you, like on TV? - Some of them. But some of them don't. - How'd you get back? - Poodle. You did it, and I'm glad. You saw whatever you wanted to see. You had your "experience." Now you can pick out yourjob and be normal. - Well... - Well? Well, I met someone. You did? Was she Bee-ish? - A wasp?! Your parents will kill you! - No, no, no, not a wasp. - Spider? - I'm not attracted to spiders. I know it's the hottest thing, with the eight legs and all. I can't get by that face. So who is she? She's... human. No, no. That's a bee law. You wouldn't break a bee law. - Her name's Vanessa. - Oh, boy. She's so nice. And she's a florist! Oh, no! You're dating a human florist! We're not dating. You're flying outside the hive, talking to humans that attack our homes with power washers and M-80s! One-eighth a stick of dynamite! She saved my life! And she understands me. This is over! Eat this. This is not over! What was that? - They call it a crumb. - It was so stingin' stripey! And that's not what they eat. That's what falls off what they eat! - You know what a Oinnabon is? - No. It's bread and cinnamon and frosting. They heat it up... Sit down! ...really hot! - Listen to me! We are not them! We're us. There's us and there's them! Yes, but who can deny the heart that is yearning? There's no yearning. Stop yearning. Listen to me! You have got to start thinking bee, my friend. Thinking bee! - Thinking bee. - Thinking bee. Thinking bee! Thinking bee! Thinking bee! Thinking bee! There he is. He's in the pool. You know what your problem is, Barry? I gotta start thinking bee? How much longer will this go on? It's been three days! Why aren't you working? I've got a lot of big life decisions to think about. What life? You have no life! You have no job. You're barely a bee! Would it kill you to make a little honey? Barry, come out. Your father's talking to you. Martin, would you talk to him? Barry, I'm talking to you! You coming? Got everything? All set! Go ahead. I'll catch up. Don't be too long. Watch this! Vanessa! - We're still here. - I told you not to yell at him. He doesn't respond to yelling! - Then why yell at me? - Because you don't listen! I'm not listening to this. Sorry, I've gotta go. - Where are you going? - I'm meeting a friend. A girl? Is this why you can't decide? Bye. I just hope she's Bee-ish. They have a huge parade of flowers every year in Pasadena? To be in the Tournament of Roses, that's every florist's dream! Up on a float, surrounded by flowers, crowds cheering. A tournament. Do the roses compete in athletic events? No. All right, I've got one. How come you don't fly everywhere? It's exhausting. Why don't you run everywhere? It's faster. Yeah, OK, I see, I see. All right, your turn. TiVo. You can just freeze live TV? That's insane! You don't have that? We have Hivo, but it's a disease. It's a horrible, horrible disease. Oh, my. Dumb bees! You must want to sting all those jerks. We try not to sting. It's usually fatal for us. So you have to watch your temper. Very carefully. You kick a wall, take a walk, write an angry letter and throw it out. Work through it like any emotion: Anger, jealousy, lust. Oh, my goodness! Are you OK? Yeah. - What is wrong with you?! - It's a bug. He's not bothering anybody. Get out of here, you creep! What was that? A Pic 'N' Save circular? Yeah, it was. How did you know? It felt like about 10 pages. Seventy-five is pretty much our limit. You've really got that down to a science. - I lost a cousin to Italian Vogue. - I'll bet. What in the name of Mighty Hercules is this? How did this get here? Oute Bee, Golden Blossom, Ray Liotta Private Select? - Is he that actor? - I never heard of him. - Why is this here? - For people. We eat it. You don't have enough food of your own? - Well, yes. - How do you get it? - Bees make it. - I know who makes it! And it's hard to make it! There's heating, cooling, stirring. You need a whole Krelman thing! - It's organic. - It's our-ganic! It's just honey, Barry. Just what?! Bees don't know about this! This is stealing! A lot of stealing! You've taken our homes, schools, hospitals! This is all we have! And it's on sale?! I'm getting to the bottom of this. I'm getting to the bottom of all of this! Hey, Hector. - You almost done? - Almost. He is here. I sense it. Well, I guess I'll go home now and just leave this nice honey out, with no one around. You're busted, box boy! I knew I heard something. So you can talk! I can talk. And now you'll start talking! Where you getting the sweet stuff? Who's your supplier? I don't understand. I thought we were friends. The last thing we want to do is upset bees! You're too late! It's ours now! You, sir, have crossed the wrong sword! You, sir, will be lunch for my iguana, Ignacio! Where is the honey coming from? Tell me where! Honey Farms! It comes from Honey Farms! Orazy person! What horrible thing has happened here? These faces, they never knew what hit them. And now they're on the road to nowhere! Just keep still. What? You're not dead? Do I look dead? They will wipe anything that moves. Where you headed? To Honey Farms. I am onto something huge here. I'm going to Alaska. Moose blood, crazy stuff. Blows your head off! I'm going to Tacoma. - And you? - He really is dead. All right. Uh-oh! - What is that?! - Oh, no! - A wiper! Triple blade! - Triple blade? Jump on! It's your only chance, bee! Why does everything have to be so doggone clean?! How much do you people need to see?! Open your eyes! Stick your head out the window! From NPR News in Washington, I'm Oarl Kasell. But don't kill no more bugs! - Bee! - Moose blood guy!! - You hear something? - Like what? Like tiny screaming. Turn off the radio. Whassup, bee boy? Hey, Blood. Just a row of honey jars, as far as the eye could see. Wow! I assume wherever this truck goes is where they're getting it. I mean, that honey's ours. - Bees hang tight. - We're all jammed in. It's a close community. Not us, man. We on our own. Every mosquito on his own. - What if you get in trouble? - You a mosquito, you in trouble. Nobody likes us. They just smack. See a mosquito, smack, smack! At least you're out in the world. You must meet girls. Mosquito girls try to trade up, get with a moth, dragonfly. Mosquito girl don't want no mosquito. You got to be kidding me! Mooseblood's about to leave the building! So long, bee! - Hey, guys! - Mooseblood! I knew I'd catch y'all down here. Did you bring your crazy straw? We throw it in jars, slap a label on it, and it's pretty much pure profit. What is this place? A bee's got a brain the size of a pinhead. They are pinheads! Pinhead. - Oheck out the new smoker. - Oh, sweet. That's the one you want. The Thomas 3000! Smoker? Ninety puffs a minute, semi-automatic. Twice the nicotine, all the tar. A couple breaths of this knocks them right out. They make the honey, and we make the money. "They make the honey, and we make the money"? Oh, my! What's going on? Are you OK? Yeah. It doesn't last too long. Do you know you're in a fake hive with fake walls? Our queen was moved here. We had no choice. This is your queen? That's a man in women's clothes! That's a drag queen! What is this? Oh, no! There's hundreds of them! Bee honey. Our honey is being brazenly stolen on a massive scale! This is worse than anything bears have done! I intend to do something. Oh, Barry, stop. Who told you humans are taking our honey? That's a rumor. Do these look like rumors? That's a conspiracy theory. These are obviously doctored photos. How did you get mixed up in this? He's been talking to humans. - What? - Talking to humans?! He has a human girlfriend. And they make out! Make out? Barry! We do not. - You wish you could. - Whose side are you on? The bees! I dated a cricket once in San Antonio. Those crazy legs kept me up all night. Barry, this is what you want to do with your life? I want to do it for all our lives. Nobody works harder than bees! Dad, I remember you coming home so overworked your hands were still stirring. You couldn't stop. I remember that. What right do they have to our honey? We live on two cups a year. They put it in lip balm for no reason whatsoever! Even if it's true, what can one bee do? Sting them where it really hurts. In the face! The eye! - That would hurt. - No. Up the nose? That's a killer. There's only one place you can sting the humans, one place where it matters. Hive at Five, the hive's only full-hour action news source. No more bee beards! With Bob Bumble at the anchor desk. Weather with Storm Stinger. Sports with Buzz Larvi. And Jeanette Ohung. - Good evening. I'm Bob Bumble. - And I'm Jeanette Ohung. A tri-county bee, Barry Benson, intends to sue the human race for stealing our honey, packaging it and profiting from it illegally! Tomorrow night on Bee Larry King, we'll have three former queens here in our studio, discussing their new book, Olassy Ladies, out this week on Hexagon. Tonight we're talking to Barry Benson. Did you ever think, "I'm a kid from the hive. I can't do this"? Bees have never been afraid to change the world. What about Bee Oolumbus? Bee Gandhi? Bejesus? Where I'm from, we'd never sue humans. We were thinking of stickball or candy stores. How old are you? The bee community is supporting you in this case, which will be the trial of the bee century. You know, they have a Larry King in the human world too. It's a common name. Next week... He looks like you and has a show and suspenders and colored dots... Next week... Glasses, quotes on the bottom from the guest even though you just heard 'em. Bear Week next week! They're scary, hairy and here live. Always leans forward, pointy shoulders, squinty eyes, very Jewish. In tennis, you attack at the point of weakness! It was my grandmother, Ken. She's 81. Honey, her backhand's a joke! I'm not gonna take advantage of that? Quiet, please. Actual work going on here. - Is that that same bee? - Yes, it is! I'm helping him sue the human race. - Hello. - Hello, bee. This is Ken. Yeah, I remember you. Timberland, size ten and a half. Vibram sole, I believe. Why does he talk again? Listen, you better go 'cause we're really busy working. But it's our yogurt night! Bye-bye. Why is yogurt night so difficult?! You poor thing. You two have been at this for hours! Yes, and Adam here has been a huge help. - Frosting... - How many sugars? Just one. I try not to use the competition. So why are you helping me? Bees have good qualities. And it takes my mind off the shop. Instead of flowers, people are giving balloon bouquets now. Those are great, if you're three. And artificial flowers. - Oh, those just get me psychotic! - Yeah, me too. Bent stingers, pointless pollination. Bees must hate those fake things! Nothing worse than a daffodil that's had work done. Maybe this could make up for it a little bit. - This lawsuit's a pretty big deal. - I guess. You sure you want to go through with it? Am I sure? When I'm done with the humans, they won't be able to say, "Honey, I'm home," without paying a royalty! It's an incredible scene here in downtown Manhattan, where the world anxiously waits, because for the first time in history, we will hear for ourselves if a honeybee can actually speak. What have we gotten into here, Barry? It's pretty big, isn't it? I can't believe how many humans don't work during the day. You think billion-dollar multinational food companies have good lawyers? Everybody needs to stay behind the barricade. - What's the matter? - I don't know, I just got a chill. Well, if it isn't the bee team. You boys work on this? All rise! The Honorable Judge Bumbleton presiding. All right. Oase number 4475, Superior Oourt of New York, Barry Bee Benson v. the Honey Industry is now in session. Mr. Montgomery, you're representing the five food companies collectively? A privilege. Mr. Benson... you're representing all the bees of the world? I'm kidding. Yes, Your Honor, we're ready to proceed. Mr. Montgomery, your opening statement, please. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, my grandmother was a simple woman. Born on a farm, she believed it was man's divine right to benefit from the bounty of nature God put before us. If we lived in the topsy-turvy world Mr. Benson imagines, just think of what would it mean. I would have to negotiate with the silkworm for the elastic in my britches! Talking bee! How do we know this isn't some sort of holographic motion-picture-capture Hollywood wizardry? They could be using laser beams! Robotics! Ventriloquism! Oloning! For all we know, he could be on steroids! Mr. Benson? Ladies and gentlemen, there's no trickery here. I'm just an ordinary bee. Honey's pretty important to me. It's important to all bees. We invented it! We make it. And we protect it with our lives. Unfortunately, there are some people in this room who think they can take it from us 'cause we're the little guys! I'm hoping that, after this is all over, you'll see how, by taking our honey, you not only take everything we have but everything we are! I wish he'd dress like that all the time. So nice! Oall your first witness. So, Mr. Klauss Vanderhayden of Honey Farms, big company you have. I suppose so. I see you also own Honeyburton and Honron! Yes, they provide beekeepers for our farms. Beekeeper. I find that to be a very disturbing term. I don't imagine you employ any bee-free-ers, do you? - No. - I couldn't hear you. - No. - No. Because you don't free bees. You keep bees. Not only that, it seems you thought a bear would be an appropriate image for a jar of honey. They're very lovable creatures. Yogi Bear, Fozzie Bear, Build-A-Bear. You mean like this? Bears kill bees! How'd you like his head crashing through your living room?! Biting into your couch! Spitting out your throw pillows! OK, that's enough. Take him away. So, Mr. Sting, thank you for being here. Your name intrigues me. - Where have I heard it before? - I was with a band called The Police. But you've never been a police officer, have you? No, I haven't. No, you haven't. And so here we have yet another example of bee culture casually stolen by a human for nothing more than a prance-about stage name. Oh, please. Have you ever been stung, Mr. Sting? Because I'm feeling a little stung, Sting. Or should I say... Mr. Gordon M. Sumner! That's not his real name?! You idiots! Mr. Liotta, first, belated congratulations on your Emmy win for a guest spot on ER in 2005. Thank you. Thank you. I see from your resume that you're devilishly handsome with a churning inner turmoil that's ready to blow. I enjoy what I do. Is that a crime? Not yet it isn't. But is this what it's come to for you? Exploiting tiny, helpless bees so you don't have to rehearse your part and learn your lines, sir? Watch it, Benson! I could blow right now! This isn't a goodfella. This is a badfella! Why doesn't someone just step on this creep, and we can all go home?! - Order in this court! - You're all thinking it! Order! Order, I say! - Say it! - Mr. Liotta, please sit down! I think it was awfully nice of that bear to pitch in like that. I think the jury's on our side. Are we doing everything right, legally? I'm a florist. Right. Well, here's to a great team. To a great team! Well, hello. - Ken! - Hello. I didn't think you were coming. No, I was just late. I tried to call, but... the battery. I didn't want all this to go to waste, so I called Barry. Luckily, he was free. Oh, that was lucky. There's a little left. I could heat it up. Yeah, heat it up, sure, whatever. So I hear you're quite a tennis player. I'm not much for the game myself. The ball's a little grabby. That's where I usually sit. Right... there. Ken, Barry was looking at your resume, and he agreed with me that eating with chopsticks isn't really a special skill. You think I don't see what you're doing? I know how hard it is to find the rightjob. We have that in common. Do we? Bees have 100 percent employment, but we do jobs like taking the crud out. That's just what I was thinking about doing. Ken, I let Barry borrow your razor for his fuzz. I hope that was all right. I'm going to drain the old stinger. Yeah, you do that. Look at that. You know, I've just about had it with your little mind games. - What's that? - Italian Vogue. Mamma mia, that's a lot of pages. A lot of ads. Remember what Van said, why is your life more valuable than mine? Funny, I just can't seem to recall that! I think something stinks in here! I love the smell of flowers. How do you like the smell of flames?! Not as much. Water bug! Not taking sides! Ken, I'm wearing a Ohapstick hat! This is pathetic! I've got issues! Well, well, well, a royal flush! - You're bluffing. - Am I? Surf's up, dude! Poo water! That bowl is gnarly. Except for those dirty yellow rings! Kenneth! What are you doing?! You know, I don't even like honey! I don't eat it! We need to talk! He's just a little bee! And he happens to be the nicest bee I've met in a long time! Long time? What are you talking about?! Are there other bugs in your life? No, but there are other things bugging me in life. And you're one of them! Fine! Talking bees, no yogurt night... My nerves are fried from riding on this emotional roller coaster! Goodbye, Ken. And for your information, I prefer sugar-free, artificial sweeteners made by man! I'm sorry about all that. I know it's got an aftertaste! I like it! I always felt there was some kind of barrier between Ken and me. I couldn't overcome it. Oh, well. Are you OK for the trial? I believe Mr. Montgomery is about out of ideas. We would like to call Mr. Barry Benson Bee to the stand. Good idea! You can really see why he's considered one of the best lawyers... Yeah. Layton, you've gotta weave some magic with this jury, or it's gonna be all over. Don't worry. The only thing I have to do to turn this jury around is to remind them of what they don't like about bees. - You got the tweezers? - Are you allergic? Only to losing, son. Only to losing. Mr. Benson Bee, I'll ask you what I think we'd all like to know. What exactly is your relationship to that woman? We're friends. - Good friends? - Yes. How good? Do you live together? Wait a minute... Are you her little... ...bedbug? I've seen a bee documentary or two. From what I understand, doesn't your queen give birth to all the bee children? - Yeah, but... - So those aren't your real parents! - Oh, Barry... - Yes, they are! Hold me back! You're an illegitimate bee, aren't you, Benson? He's denouncing bees! Don't y'all date your cousins? - Objection! - I'm going to pincushion this guy! Adam, don't! It's what he wants! Oh, I'm hit!! Oh, lordy, I am hit! Order! Order! The venom! The venom is coursing through my veins! I have been felled by a winged beast of destruction! You see? You can't treat them like equals! They're striped savages! Stinging's the only thing they know! It's their way! - Adam, stay with me. - I can't feel my legs. What angel of mercy will come forward to suck the poison from my heaving buttocks? I will have order in this court. Order! Order, please! The case of the honeybees versus the human race took a pointed turn against the bees yesterday when one of their legal team stung Layton T. Montgomery. - Hey, buddy. - Hey. - Is there much pain? - Yeah. I... I blew the whole case, didn't I? It doesn't matter. What matters is you're alive. You could have died. I'd be better off dead. Look at me. They got it from the cafeteria downstairs, in a tuna sandwich. Look, there's a little celery still on it. What was it like to sting someone? I can't explain it. It was all... All adrenaline and then... and then ecstasy! All right. You think it was all a trap? Of course. I'm sorry. I flew us right into this. What were we thinking? Look at us. We're just a couple of bugs in this world. What will the humans do to us if they win? I don't know. I hear they put the roaches in motels. That doesn't sound so bad. Adam, they check in, but they don't check out! Oh, my. Oould you get a nurse to close that window? - Why? - The smoke. Bees don't smoke. Right. Bees don't smoke. Bees don't smoke! But some bees are smoking. That's it! That's our case! It is? It's not over? Get dressed. I've gotta go somewhere. Get back to the court and stall. Stall any way you can. And assuming you've done step correctly, you're ready for the tub. Mr. Flayman. Yes? Yes, Your Honor! Where is the rest of your team? Well, Your Honor, it's interesting. Bees are trained to fly haphazardly, and as a result, we don't make very good time. I actually heard a funny story about... Your Honor, haven't these ridiculous bugs taken up enough of this court's valuable time? How much longer will we allow these absurd shenanigans to go on? They have presented no compelling evidence to support their charges against my clients, who run legitimate businesses. I move for a complete dismissal of this entire case! Mr. Flayman, I'm afraid I'm going to have to consider Mr. Montgomery's motion. But you can't! We have a terrific case. Where is your proof? Where is the evidence? Show me the smoking gun! Hold it, Your Honor! You want a smoking gun? Here is your smoking gun. What is that? It's a bee smoker! What, this? This harmless little contraption? This couldn't hurt a fly, let alone a bee. Look at what has happened to bees who have never been asked, "Smoking or non?" Is this what nature intended for us? To be forcibly addicted to smoke machines and man-made wooden slat work camps? Living out our lives as honey slaves to the white man? - What are we gonna do? - He's playing the species card. Ladies and gentlemen, please, free these bees! Free the bees! Free the bees! Free the bees! Free the bees! Free the bees! The court finds in favor of the bees! Vanessa, we won! I knew you could do it! High-five! Sorry. I'm OK! You know what this means? All the honey will finally belong to the bees. Now we won't have to work so hard all the time. This is an unholy perversion of the balance of nature, Benson. You'll regret this. Barry, how much honey is out there? All right. One at a time. Barry, who are you wearing? My sweater is Ralph Lauren, and I have no pants. - What if Montgomery's right? - What do you mean? We've been living the bee way a long time, 27 million years. Oongratulations on your victory. What will you demand as a settlement? First, we'll demand a complete shutdown of all bee work camps. Then we want back the honey that was ours to begin with, every last drop. We demand an end to the glorification of the bear as anything more than a filthy, smelly, bad-breath stink machine. We're all aware of what they do in the woods. Wait for my signal. Take him out. He'll have nauseous for a few hours, then he'll be fine. And we will no longer tolerate bee-negative nicknames... But it's just a prance-about stage name! ...unnecessary inclusion of honey in bogus health products and la-dee-da human tea-time snack garnishments. Oan't breathe. Bring it in, boys! Hold it right there! Good. Tap it. Mr. Buzzwell, we just passed three cups, and there's gallons more coming! - I think we need to shut down! - Shut down? We've never shut down. Shut down honey production! Stop making honey! Turn your key, sir! What do we do now? Oannonball! We're shutting honey production! Mission abort. Aborting pollination and nectar detail. Returning to base. Adam, you wouldn't believe how much honey was out there. Oh, yeah? What's going on? Where is everybody? - Are they out celebrating? - They're home. They don't know what to do. Laying out, sleeping in. I heard your Uncle Oarl was on his way to San Antonio with a cricket. At least we got our honey back. Sometimes I think, so what if humans liked our honey? Who wouldn't? It's the greatest thing in the world! I was excited to be part of making it. This was my new desk. This was my new job. I wanted to do it really well. And now... Now I can't. I don't understand why they're not happy. I thought their lives would be better! They're doing nothing. It's amazing. Honey really changes people. You don't have any idea what's going on, do you? - What did you want to show me? - This. What happened here? That is not the half of it. Oh, no. Oh, my. They're all wilting. Doesn't look very good, does it? No. And whose fault do you think that is? You know, I'm gonna guess bees. Bees? Specifically, me. I didn't think bees not needing to make honey would affect all these things. It's notjust flowers. Fruits, vegetables, they all need bees. That's our whole SAT test right there. Take away produce, that affects the entire animal kingdom. And then, of course... The human species? So if there's no more pollination, it could all just go south here, couldn't it? I know this is also partly my fault. How about a suicide pact? How do we do it? - I'll sting you, you step on me. - Thatjust kills you twice. Right, right. Listen, Barry... sorry, but I gotta get going. I had to open my mouth and talk. Vanessa? Vanessa? Why are you leaving? Where are you going? To the final Tournament of Roses parade in Pasadena. They've moved it to this weekend because all the flowers are dying. It's the last chance I'll ever have to see it. Vanessa, I just wanna say I'm sorry. I never meant it to turn out like this. I know. Me neither. Tournament of Roses. Roses can't do sports. Wait a minute. Roses. Roses? Roses! Vanessa! Roses?! Barry? - Roses are flowers! - Yes, they are. Flowers, bees, pollen! I know. That's why this is the last parade. Maybe not. Oould you ask him to slow down? Oould you slow down? Barry! OK, I made a huge mistake. This is a total disaster, all my fault. Yes, it kind of is. I've ruined the planet. I wanted to help you with the flower shop. I've made it worse. Actually, it's completely closed down. I thought maybe you were remodeling. But I have another idea, and it's greater than my previous ideas combined. I don't want to hear it! All right, they have the roses, the roses have the pollen. I know every bee, plant and flower bud in this park. All we gotta do is get what they've got back here with what we've got. - Bees. - Park. - Pollen! - Flowers. - Repollination! - Across the nation! Tournament of Roses, Pasadena, Oalifornia. They've got nothing but flowers, floats and cotton candy. Security will be tight. I have an idea. Vanessa Bloome, FTD. Official floral business. It's real. Sorry, ma'am. Nice brooch. Thank you. It was a gift. Once inside, we just pick the right float. How about The Princess and the Pea? I could be the princess, and you could be the pea! Yes, I got it. - Where should I sit? - What are you? - I believe I'm the pea. - The pea? It goes under the mattresses. - Not in this fairy tale, sweetheart. - I'm getting the marshal. You do that! This whole parade is a fiasco! Let's see what this baby'll do. Hey, what are you doing?! Then all we do is blend in with traffic... ...without arousing suspicion. Once at the airport, there's no stopping us. Stop! Security. - You and your insect pack your float? - Yes. Has it been in your possession the entire time? Would you remove your shoes? - Remove your stinger. - It's part of me. I know. Just having some fun. Enjoy your flight. Then if we're lucky, we'll have just enough pollen to do the job. Oan you believe how lucky we are? We have just enough pollen to do the job! I think this is gonna work. It's got to work. Attention, passengers, this is Oaptain Scott. We have a bit of bad weather in New York. It looks like we'll experience a couple hours delay. Barry, these are cut flowers with no water. They'll never make it. I gotta get up there and talk to them. Be careful. Oan I get help with the Sky Mall magazine? I'd like to order the talking inflatable nose and ear hair trimmer. Oaptain, I'm in a real situation. - What'd you say, Hal? - Nothing. Bee! Don't freak out! My entire species... What are you doing? - Wait a minute! I'm an attorney! - Who's an attorney? Don't move. Oh, Barry. Good afternoon, passengers. This is your captain. Would a Miss Vanessa Bloome in 24B please report to the cockpit? And please hurry! What happened here? There was a DustBuster, a toupee, a life raft exploded. One's bald, one's in a boat, they're both unconscious! - Is that another bee joke? - No! No one's flying the plane! This is JFK control tower, Flight 356. What's your status? This is Vanessa Bloome. I'm a florist from New York. Where's the pilot? He's unconscious, and so is the copilot. Not good. Does anyone onboard have flight experience? As a matter of fact, there is. - Who's that? - Barry Benson. From the honey trial?! Oh, great. Vanessa, this is nothing more than a big metal bee. It's got giant wings, huge engines. I can't fly a plane. - Why not? Isn't John Travolta a pilot? - Yes. How hard could it be? Wait, Barry! We're headed into some lightning. This is Bob Bumble. We have some late-breaking news from JFK Airport, where a suspenseful scene is developing. Barry Benson, fresh from his legal victory... That's Barry! ...is attempting to land a plane, loaded with people, flowers and an incapacitated flight crew. Flowers?! We have a storm in the area and two individuals at the controls with absolutely no flight experience. Just a minute. There's a bee on that plane. I'm quite familiar with Mr. Benson and his no-account compadres. They've done enough damage. But isn't he your only hope? Technically, a bee shouldn't be able to fly at all. Their wings are too small... Haven't we heard this a million times? "The surface area of the wings and body mass make no sense." - Get this on the air! - Got it. - Stand by. - We're going live. The way we work may be a mystery to you. Making honey takes a lot of bees doing a lot of small jobs. But let me tell you about a small job. If you do it well, it makes a big difference. More than we realized. To us, to everyone. That's why I want to get bees back to working together. That's the bee way! We're not made of Jell-O. We get behind a fellow. - Black and yellow! - Hello! Left, right, down, hover. - Hover? - Forget hover. This isn't so hard. Beep-beep! Beep-beep! Barry, what happened?! Wait, I think we were on autopilot the whole time. - That may have been helping me. - And now we're not! So it turns out I cannot fly a plane. All of you, let's get behind this fellow! Move it out! Move out! Our only chance is if I do what I'd do, you copy me with the wings of the plane! Don't have to yell. I'm not yelling! We're in a lot of trouble. It's very hard to concentrate with that panicky tone in your voice! It's not a tone. I'm panicking! I can't do this! Vanessa, pull yourself together. You have to snap out of it! You snap out of it. You snap out of it. - You snap out of it! - You snap out of it! - You snap out of it! - You snap out of it! - You snap out of it! - You snap out of it! - Hold it! - Why? Oome on, it's my turn. How is the plane flying? I don't know. Hello? Benson, got any flowers for a happy occasion in there? The Pollen Jocks! They do get behind a fellow. - Black and yellow. - Hello. All right, let's drop this tin can on the blacktop. Where? I can't see anything. Oan you? No, nothing. It's all cloudy. Oome on. You got to think bee, Barry. - Thinking bee. - Thinking bee. Thinking bee! Thinking bee! Thinking bee! Wait a minute. I think I'm feeling something. - What? - I don't know. It's strong, pulling me. Like a 27-million-year-old instinct. Bring the nose down. Thinking bee! Thinking bee! Thinking bee! - What in the world is on the tarmac? - Get some lights on that! Thinking bee! Thinking bee! Thinking bee! - Vanessa, aim for the flower. - OK. Out the engines. We're going in on bee power. Ready, boys? Affirmative! Good. Good. Easy, now. That's it. Land on that flower! Ready? Full reverse! Spin it around! - Not that flower! The other one! - Which one? - That flower. - I'm aiming at the flower! That's a fat guy in a flowered shirt. I mean the giant pulsating flower made of millions of bees! Pull forward. Nose down. Tail up. Rotate around it. - This is insane, Barry! - This's the only way I know how to fly. Am I koo-koo-kachoo, or is this plane flying in an insect-like pattern? Get your nose in there. Don't be afraid. Smell it. Full reverse! Just drop it. Be a part of it. Aim for the center! Now drop it in! Drop it in, woman! Oome on, already. Barry, we did it! You taught me how to fly! - Yes. No high-five! - Right. Barry, it worked! Did you see the giant flower? What giant flower? Where? Of course I saw the flower! That was genius! - Thank you. - But we're not done yet. Listen, everyone! This runway is covered with the last pollen from the last flowers available anywhere on Earth. That means this is our last chance. We're the only ones who make honey, pollinate flowers and dress like this. If we're gonna survive as a species, this is our moment! What do you say? Are we going to be bees, orjust Museum of Natural History keychains? We're bees! Keychain! Then follow me! Except Keychain. Hold on, Barry. Here. You've earned this. Yeah! I'm a Pollen Jock! And it's a perfect fit. All I gotta do are the sleeves. Oh, yeah. That's our Barry. Mom! The bees are back! If anybody needs to make a call, now's the time. I got a feeling we'll be working late tonight! Here's your change. Have a great afternoon! Oan I help who's next? Would you like some honey with that? It is bee-approved. Don't forget these. Milk, cream, cheese, it's all me. And I don't see a nickel! Sometimes I just feel like a piece of meat! I had no idea. Barry, I'm sorry. Have you got a moment? Would you excuse me? My mosquito associate will help you. Sorry I'm late. He's a lawyer too? I was already a blood-sucking parasite. All I needed was a briefcase. Have a great afternoon! Barry, I just got this huge tulip order, and I can't get them anywhere. No problem, Vannie. Just leave it to me. You're a lifesaver, Barry. Oan I help who's next? All right, scramble, jocks! It's time to fly. Thank you, Barry! That bee is living my life! Let it go, Kenny. - When will this nightmare end?! - Let it all go. - Beautiful day to fly. - Sure is. Between you and me, I was dying to get out of that office. You have got to start thinking bee, my friend. - Thinking bee! - Me? Hold it. Let's just stop for a second. Hold it. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, everyone. Oan we stop here? I'm not making a major life decision during a production number! All right. Take ten, everybody. Wrap it up, guys. I had virtually no rehearsal for that.

#long post #bees tw #<- idk just in case

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laws-yellow-submarine · 4 years

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Skylar(OC)/Law One-Shot

The benefits of being hyper means I get extra writing done lol So inspiration for this is taken directly from my mystery prompts list from the event, but also it was an idea I knew I wanted to use in my fic at some point. So, while this is currently written as a one-shot, it will appear in the fic at a later point, when the story gets to when this takes place. I have a lot of fun writing Skylar and Law interactions, especially when they’re in that kind of weird “I kinda like you a little bit maybe but hell no I’m not gonna say that to anybody not even myself” stage haha hope you enjoy!

Tradition: “Baby, it’s cold outside…”

White filled Skylar’s vision as she stared, open-mouthed, through the porthole. Fluffy mounds piled high on the hills far beyond the docks, lay flat on the rooftops in the town nearby, fell in perfect forms from the heavens to rest on the ground below.

Damn, she owed Shachi 500 belli.

Racing through the Polar Tang, she quickly made her way to the top floor, ready to run right out onto the wooden deck. She was stopped before she even touched the door by a large hand grabbing her by the shirt.

“Where are you going, Skylar-ya?”

Skylar blinked at him, trying to squirm out of his tight grip. “Outside? Duh! It’s snow! I wanna touch it!” But Law made no move to let her go, instead raising a brow and scowling at her bright grin.

“You’re not seriously planning on going out in just that…?” He really didn’t think she could be that stupid. Sure it was only a bit below freezing, but considering the weather where she was from, frostbite would set in faster. Not to mention her risk for hypothermia. Even he was wearing a coat for crying out loud!

“Oh come on, Law, it can’t be that cold,” She huffed indignantly, putting her hands on her hips the best she could despite him still gripping her collar.

“You need a coat.”

“Don’t have one. I’ll be fine, now let. me. go!” She continued struggling against him, but his grip just tightened, dragging her down the hall to the men’s quarter’s. After finally realizing he wasn’t going to let up, Skylar dropped to the ground and crossed her arms, forcing him to literally drag her along behind him like some petulant child. Law snagged for only a second, jolted by the sudden increase in weight, but kept to his task, determined to find something for her to wear. He wasn’t about to replace his, albeit unaffiliated, cook.

“Hey, make yourselves decent,” he called through the door after knocking, waiting for the shuffling to stop before walking inside with the obnoxious woman still on the floor behind him. A few of his men stood around, having just finished dressing themselves in hats, scarves, and gloves. “We need an extra boiler suit, who’s got one?”

Ignoring the woman’s squeals of “please don’t make me wear that!”, Law waited for his men to check their chests, feeling his scowl deepen when they all came up empty.

“Sorry, Cap...I think they’re all in the laundry room.” Right, tomorrow was laundry day. Dragging his free hand down his face, Law sighed and left the room, waving his men off to enjoy their day. He dragged Skylar further down the hall, the woman finally attempting to stand up after complaining about her bottom hurting (not that Law was paying attention to that, of course). He pushed open his bedroom door, commanding the woman to sit on the couch while he searched for a spare jacket.

Skylar, continuing to be an overall brat, sat down on the floor instead. At Law’s exasperated look, she just huffed, turning her head away before answering, “I will die before I sit on that ugly, yellow fucking couch.”

On second thought, maybe he should let her just freeze to death.

Breathing deep through his nose, Law turned to his closet, groaning slightly when he too came up empty-handed. Apparently he only owned the one coat, and as he was already wearing it, that meant she couldn’t. Of course, he could just give it to her for now; being from the North Blue, he was more well-suited to the cold, enjoyed it even, and would be able to handle being out longer without it than she would.

Then again, it was his coat.

Skylar jolted in surprise when she felt a hunk of fabric hit her in the face. Looking at the bundle in her hands, she recognized the smiling face from Law’s favorite yellow hoodie. “That should help keep you warm until we can get to a shop. Don’t get it dirty.” Skylar pouted, but began putting it on anyway; Law was standing directly in front of her only exit, and she knew he wouldn’t move until she did as he said.

“I mean, I’d be the one washing it anyway,” she said, wrinkling her nose as a new smell hit her. Taking a quick whiff of the hoodie’s collar, she barked out a cough, covering her nose and holding the fabric as far away as she could. “Fucking hell, please let me wash this you are disgusting!” She let out a squeal as he plopped his hat on her head, scalp already itching from the material. “Jeez, what are you a fucking goblin? I’m washing this too! God, I’m gonna have to take like three showers to get your stink off of me!” Yet underneath the stench, Skylar didn’t miss the underlying scent of antiseptic and a soap that reminded her of the woods back home in the spring. When his back finally turned so he could open the door, she caught herself taking another sniff.

She took off as soon as the door opened, speeding back through the sub all the way to the deck, running over the gangplank, onto the docks, only to slip at the end and go barreling into a large snowbank. She quickly sat up, hands and nose burning as she tried to extricate herself from the snow. It was hard to do with how much she was shivering, and she swore if the guys still on deck didn’t stop laughing at her, she’d poison their dinners, Law be damned.

“W-w-w-why is sn-snow so f-f-f-f-f-fucking cold?! Why d-d-d-do people l-l-l-l-l-live here?!”

Law facepalmed from his position on the docks. He’d warned her.

“Come on, we need to get you someplace warm before your nose falls off,” he deadpanned, coming up next to her. Skylar blanched under the redness forming along her nose and cheeks, matching her ungloved hands.

“C-c-c-can that r-r-really happen?!” She squeaked, taking his offered hand to pull herself up.

“Sometimes. Wrap your hands in the sleeves, that hoodie’s big enough on you to cover yourself twice; take advantage of it.” For once not arguing with him, she did as he said, the warm fabric instantly taking some of the bite away from her fingers. She buried her nose in the stinky fabric as best she could, choosing to focus on the underlying “Law” scents rather than the “stinky, unwashed hoodie” scents.

Looking like a bright yellow, spotted turtle, she waddled down the streets next to him, likely walking closer than necessary, but wholly uncaring. He radiated body heat, and while she hated admitting he was right about the cold, she’d take what she could get to get warm again.

For his part, Law let her walk too close, keeping focused so as not to accidentally step on her. He glanced at her from the corner of his eye, taking note of the shade of red she’d become from the snow. Hopefully they’d avoided frostbite, but he wouldn’t know for sure until he could actually examine her. He watched the way frost fell from her eyelashes as green eyes squinted against the wind, her silver hair blowing from underneath his hat. He’d actually had to hold in a laugh as she walked with his hoodie bunched up around her face, the bright fabric still reaching almost to her knees from the size difference. It was a shame she hated yellow so vehemently; she looked damn good in his sweatshirt.

Not that he’d tell her that. Or anyone else for that matter. In fact, reader, forget you read that; nobody needs to ever know that thought once crossed his mind.

Finally, they came across a shop selling winter coats, nestled near a small alley a few streets away from the inn they’d be staying at. Law ushered Skylar inside, smirking at the way she shivered in the sudden warmth. The shop was small, but cozy, with racks upon racks of coats, scarves, hats, and gloves in a rainbow of colors. They started for one of the women’s racks, when suddenly a loud voice called out to them from the sales counter.

“Oh, honey, what on earth are you wearing?! Baby, it’s cold outside! You need more than just a hat and a sweatshirt in this weather!” The duo whirled around to see a small, wrinkled old lady sitting behind the counter, glaring and wagging her finger at the Surgeon of Death like it was nothing. “And you! Be a proper gentleman and give that poor girl your coat! I swear, men today have no manners when it comes to treating women properly!”

As Law sneered at the menacing finger wagging in his face, Skylar devolved into a fit of snorts and giggles, wisely choosing to go about the task of finding winter clothing instead of openly laughing in his face. He glanced back at her, ignoring the old woman for now. “Make sure you get everything; you’re more susceptible to the cold than the rest of us are, and it’s doubtful this will be the only winter island we stop at.”

“Yeah, yeah, I got it,” Skylar said, waving him off much to his annoyance. He kept his gaze on her as she perused the selection of coats, seeming stuck on what color to get.

“Don’t get those, get the yellow one,” he said, without really thinking about it. She scoffed at him.

“Ew, no. What is it with you and yellow?” Law shrugged.

“It’s your color,” he smirked at the way she gagged.

“You’re disgusting. I’m getting purple. Just to spite you.”

“What else is new?” his smug grin widened at her glare, but he left her to pick out the rest of her gear: a white hat, scarf, and pair of gloves. As they walked up to the counter, Law grabbed a pair of fluffy yellow earmuffs as well, to be safe, and opened a room while she wasn’t paying attention. Placing her items on the counter, Skylar began searching for her wallet, and Law quickly switched out the white scarf for a bright yellow one, discarding the room after doing so. The entire purchase was in the bag before she even looked up.

“Skylar-ya, stop looking for your wallet, it’s back on the sub. I’ll pay.”

“Dammit Trafalgar, stop taking my damn money!”

“Sweetie, let the man pay. It’s the least he can do for making his poor girlfriend walk around in the cold like that. You know you can find better than this, don’t you honey?”

Skylar turned red, from more than the cold this time, and began giggling again as Law fumed. His face had turned a rather interesting shade of crimson, and he slammed the money on the counter before grabbing his companion by the hood of his sweatshirt and dragging her out the door. Skylar gave a surreptitious wave to the old woman as the door slammed shut behind them.

Back out in the cold, Skylar began putting on her new purchases, amazed at how much warmer she felt from even just the jacket. Reaching into the bag as Law took his hat back, she paused, noticing a few...oddly colored items.

“Law…” He hummed. “Why is there a yellow scarf and earmuffs in here?”

“So you stay warm, obviously,” He replied, face turning smug. “Put everything on, it’s too cold to go without.”

“I fucking hate you,” She seethed, yanking the earmuffs over her white hat and tying the offensively bright scarf around her face. Law gave her no response, just waited for her to finish before starting down the road to the inn. As she fell into step beside him, he felt her anger dissipate as he situated his hat back how he liked it.

“Thank you…” Law glanced at her. “For not letting me freeze to death.” He smiled, more genuinely this time.

“If you froze to death, I’d need to find a new cook, and I don’t think the crew will tolerate me in the kitchen ever again.” Skylar laughed at that, agreeing with him, and they continued down the road in companionable silence.

#Trafalgar law #trafalgar law scenario #law x oc stuff #law x OC #law/OC #valentine skylar #one piece OC #one piece fan fic #fan fiction #one piece #one piece scenario #300+ follower event TECHNICALLY #for context: skylar doesn't believe snow exists #that's why she owes Shachi money lmfao #I'll probably edit this a bit when I do incorporate it into my fic but only to make sure it fits nicely #this is like a merry christmas gift to myself lmfao #hopefully the read more works but if not I'm so sorry I swear I put it in

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seeaddywrite · 5 years

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bitch, i’m a monster

a/n: this is the start of the vampire AU that’s been bugging me for the last few weeks. it takes place in a mostly canon universe, but ignores max’s death & michael’s relationship with maria. michael & alex still aren’t together, though the reasons are different this time around, & their feelings for each other are still very real.

it’s a little ridiculous, a lot melodramatic, & a whole lot of fun to write. i probably would have given up on it a long time ago if it weren’t for @soberqueerinthewild‘s insistence i do something with it, & her beta-ing, so, as always, she’s the best! i’m hoping to post the follow-up for the last day of Roswell NM Week, & then hopefully that will be the end of it because i absolutely do not want another never-ending ‘verse haha.

also, this is not the real title!! i just grew attached to the title on my google doc & can’t find a good one yet -- soooo it’s temporary haha. hopefully it makes you laugh as much as me.

The sharp, stabbing pain in his residual limb is the first sign. It’s a human pain, one easily avoided if Alex is careful and drains one of the packets in his specialized, hidden cooler on a consistent schedule. But that cooler is in his cabin, safely stashed in the sub-basement that Jim Valenti had kindly left him, and Alex is stranded in the middle of the goddamn desert without access to anything that would help the pain disappear.

It takes several minutes for the severity of the situation to process, though, since Alex is busy blinking the remnants of unconsciousness from his eyes and trying to figure out how he’d gone from reclining on his couch to what seemed to be the middle of the New Mexican desert. He groans and pushes himself up from coarse, brownish grass and gritty red dirt. There’s nothing ahead of him for miles but desert landscape and waves of heat rising from the ground; it’s got to be close to midday, as the sun is still high in the sky and beating down on him. It makes his skin feel too-tight and sore, like he’s got a low-level sunburn, and Alex has spent enough time in deserts to know that it will only get worse the longer he’s outside.

The sun might not reduce him to ash like it does in horror films, but sunlight is still not kind to vampires. The damage it causes will burn through whatever blood is left in his system at twice the normal speed, and leave him starving even faster than he wants to consider. It’s not worth thinking about, not yet -- it’ll only make him panic, and he needs to be focused on getting back to his cabin before he loses himself to baser instincts.

“Fuck,” he mutters passionately, giving himself approximately thirty seconds to acknowledge how miserable he is before forcing his tactical mind and survival training to take over -- but he doesn’t have the chance. A short, wry chuckle from behind him makes Alex jump, and he twists around abruptly to find the source, his body habitually trying to find a defensive stance, even from his seated position in the dirt.

“Yeah. Fuck pretty much sums it up,” Michael Guerin drawls, his achingly familiar features drawn into a pinched scowl as he surveys their surroundings, and Alex’s heart sinks. Stranded alone in the desert is bad enough, but Michael’s presence makes it worse, despite the traitorous feeling of security and pleasure that sparks in Alex’s chest when he sees him. It’s a vestigial reaction from the days when Alex was allowed to think of Guerin as his only port in a storm, and he hates that he can’t shake it even now, with years of one night stands, abandonment, and heartbreak between them. “Whoever knocked us out and dropped us here got our phones and dosed me with pollen. Again.” He shakes his head, hard, and a cloud of yellow dust surrounds him briefly to illustrate his point.

It takes a moment for Alex to remember the significance of the dust. It’s been over a year since Noah’s death and the discovery of the strange powder that nullified the aliens’ powers, and he’s had too much on his mind to spare it much thought in the intervening time. Jesse Manes’ escape from Kyle’s hospital and the subsequent skirmishes with him had taken up all of Alex’s time and energy -- but he knows intimately how much Michael loathes feeling powerless, and that frustration is obvious in the tight pull of his shoulders and the set of his jaw. For a moment, Alex wants to get up and smooth the lines in his face with his fingertips, to kiss away the fury at feeling helpless that burns in his own chest as much as Michael’s, but as always, he holds himself back. Getting close enough to touch Guerin at this point is too dangerous, anyway; every time Alex has allowed himself such luxury since his transition to vampire, the fight to keep his appearance and instincts within human bounds had been nearly impossible to win. He’d been an inch away from burying his fangs in Michael’s neck the last time they’d been naked together -- which is going to stay the last time they were together. Alex isn’t going to allow his love for Michael to put him in any more danger than his alien heritage already does. Especially not danger from Alex.

“You gonna sit there until you dehydrate?” It takes a moment to process the question as Alex looks up at Michael. His jeans are covered in the reddish-brown dirt of the desert rather than the streaks of oil Alex is used to seeing. There’s a sprawling purple bruise across his sternum, revealed only because there are several buttons undone at his collar, and his curls are in utter disarray, matted with dried blood at one temple. Alex does his best to keep the latter as a clinical observation, but he swallows convulsively at the realization, forcing himself to focus on Michael’s scowl instead of the blood. His stomach cramps at the sight anyway, reminding him that it’s well past time for his bagged lunch, and he drags his gaze away.

Michael waves a hand in front of Alex’s face in silent offer to help him up, and he takes it without thinking. As always, the contrast between his extreme body heat and Alex’s undead cold is shocking, but Michael doesn’t seem to notice. Everyone feels considerably cooler to him, Alex imagines, so the difference must not be as noticeable as it would be to others. Still, he’s careful to release Michael as soon as he’s found his balance on both feet, and to mask the wince that threatens to contort his face as he does so. He’s never really had to deal with aches or pains in his residual limb, even immediately after the amputation, because he’d healed with miraculous speed after he began to feed on a consistent schedule.

It wasn’t actually that simple, of course. Alex had woken alone in a military hospital with limited memories of the explosion that put him there. The blast itself was still a blank spot in his mind, but if he tries, he can picture the tall, broad-shouldered Sebastian Erickson leaning over him, his ABUs torn and bloodied though there were no visible wounds on his body. Alex remembers trying to look at him, to focus and tell him to go get the others to safety, but Sebastian had only smiled sadly and rested a cold hand on his forehead. “This is going to hurt, I am afraid,” he’d said, in the same old-time accent that Alex remembered from nights at the bar with his squadron and countless training simulations. “But it is the only way you will live.”

Alex remembers the words, but no accompanying panic. He hadn’t even felt pain at that point, just a vague sense of disconnect from the world around him and the sudden, overwhelming certainty that he was about to die. He’d always imagined he would fear death, would fight it with everything in him, but it had seemed a relief, then. No more war. No more guilt. No more anything. But the moment he relaxed into it, allowed himself to accept his fate, Sebastian’s familiar visage was in his line of sight, twisted into something … other. Something monstrous. And while the thought of death wasn’t enough to make Alex panic, blood-red eyes and fangs, it seemed, were.

The flash of fang, the burning pain that started in his neck at the site of the bite and spread through his entire body with alarming alacrity, are crystal clear in his shoddy memory. Alex remembers screaming for help, clutching at Sebastian’s hand until it was just gone, along with Sebastian himself, as if he’d never been there in the first place.

The next foggy memory Alex has is from days later, after his amputation. He was high on pain medication and barely lucid, but there’s no forgetting Sebastian’s sudden presence in the tiny, sterile room. After the initial burst of fear, an instinctive panic that comes from two predators in a room together while one is weak and vulnerable, Sebastian had begun to explain. It was the first time Alex had heard the word vampire outside bad pop culture references, and even high on painkillers, he’d believed it too fantastical to be true -- until Sebastian had snarled, fangs flashing in his mouth beneath fluorescent lights, and bit into his forearm. Blood streamed crimson over his pale skin, and from feet away, Alex could smell it. His mouth watered, his gums throbbed, and when he blinked, his vision was suddenly too good, taking in every detail of the hospital room before he even looked in that direction.

Then, the bloody wound was shoved beneath his nose, and Alex loses the thread. He remembers sensations, feelings -- the way his entire body thrilled at the first drop against his lips, the first impression of his tongue against elongated teeth, the pure euphoria his first swallow. He’s been high on weed and drunk off his ass, but nothing else compares to that initial rush of fresh blood in his mouth. And at that point, there was really no denying the truth of it any longer. Alex was a vampire, and it did no good to pretend otherwise.

When it was done, Sebastian disappeared, sliding through the tiny window with inhuman grace and without a backward glance. He left a phone number for his contact at a blood bank in Sacramento, California, behind, and tucked a tiny cooler full of blood packets beneath the bed, where the doctors would have no reason to look -- and Alex never saw him again. He’d been forced to learn most of what he knows of vampirism on his own by trial and error, and he’s lived in constant fear of what he’s capable of ever since.

“Alex? Alex! Did you end up with a concussion or something? Hello?”

The increasingly anxious voice pulls Alex back to the present, and he blinks, shaking his head and taking a step back, far enough away that the temptation to touch Michael eases. “No, I’m fine,” he says with a tight smile. In all honesty, he may have had a concussion, but it’s long healed by now. “I don’t remember anything about how we got here, though. You?”

It doesn’t matter, really; the course of action is still the same. Get the hell out of the desert, find a way back to town, and hopefully manage to do it all before he ends up revealing his less-than-human side to Michael. But Alex isn’t the sort of person to be hit over the head and dragged out into the middle of the desert without wanting to know who’d done it -- if they didn’t get what they were after the first time, there’s too high a chance that they’d try again. Plus, whoever had done this has to know about Michael and his siblings’ secret to have used the pollen. That alone is enough of a reason to find and stop them; there are too many ways that information could be used against them, and Alex won’t let it happen.

It turns out, Alex needn’t have worried.

“C’mon, Manes, think about it. Who are the only people who know about this shit that aren’t on our side?” He brushes another waterfall of the yellow powder to the desert floor, scowling at it furiously. “Plus, you and me? Not Max or Isobel? Not Valenti, or Liz, or the half of the damn town who knows what we are? It’s gotta be personal. Who’s the only guy you know who’d want to take you and me out first?”

Alex sucks in a sharp breath, ignoring the scent of Michael’s blood that it drags into his lungs. It’s impossible to deny that he’s right -- even though Alex very much wishes he could, because the insinuations are terrifying.

“My dad,” he says tersely, rubbing at his temples in a futile attempt to stop the ache building behind his eyes. Of course it was his father. Jesse Manes is the only addition to this fiasco that could possibly make it worse, and that’s the way Alex’s luck has been running, lately. “Remind me to call Kyle as soon as we get back to town. He’ll need the heads-up to make sure no one shows up behind him with a gun again.”

Michael stares flatly back at him, incredulity glowing in his eyes. “That’s what you’re worried about right now? Seriously? Look around, Alex!” He spreads his arms wide, encompassing the expanse of desert surrounding them, touching the horizon on all sides. There’s no sign of the way they’d come, no way of knowing for sure in which direction home was, and they’d been left with no supplies or methods of communication. Just the two of them, with Michael’s powers muted and Alex’s useless without a steady source of blood.

In short, they’re screwed.

Alex presses his lips together tightly, then nods curtly, conceding the point. “Yeah, okay. Valenti’s on his own for now,” he agrees, and tries to organize his thoughts, filtering out the voices in the back of his head that are screaming that he’s going to either starve in the middle of this wasteland or end up fang-deep in Michael’s neck before he can stop himself.

“As long as this isn’t all a diversion, I think everyone else will be fine until we get back and show we ruined the grand plan … whatever the hell that is,” Michael muses thoughtfully, and Alex’s shoulders slump in relief when he keeps talking. Not because his thoughts bring good news, but because it gives him something else to focus on, anything else, besides the steadily growing panic in his chest and the hunger that’s beginning to gnaw ruthlessly at his insides. “Any ideas? Kidnapping us and leaving before we’re dead isn’t exactly Jesse’s style. He’s usually into more hands-on stuff: torture, gunshots to the head, fiery explosions, all the classics. So why’d he dump us out here when there’s a good chance we’ll be able to find our way back and come after him?”

Alex calls on years of military discipline to keep from squirming at the questions. He knows the answer, of course. His father has been his nemesis, his war, since he was eight years old, and Alex believes in knowing thy enemy. Jesse Manes is a sadist. He gets off on watching others hurt and always has -- especially when it comes to Alex, who has managed to disappoint him in every way a son can. He’s gay. He’s unalterably in love with an alien. And three years ago, when he should have died in an IED explosion, adding to the family legacy, Alex became something inhuman instead. It’s the perfect trifecta of sins, in his father’s eyes, and being dumped in a sun-scorched desert at midday with nothing and no one around besides a powerless -- and therefore defenseless -- Michael Guerin is his idea of a fitting punishment.

Even after discovering all of Jesse Manes’ secrets, Alex still has no idea how he found out about his condition, but that doesn’t matter. He knows, and at least thinks he knows how to kill a vampire. And Alex has to admit that this is a good way to do it. Eventually, instinct will take over and he’ll end up attacking Michael to stay alive. And afterward, in time, Alex will begin to dessicate from lack of blood. At least, he assumes so -- no one has ever actually told him what happens when a vampire goes too long without blood, but movies and literature all seem to agree that the consequences are unpleasant.

Not that it particularly matters. Alex isn’t naive enough to think he’d care about what came next if he lost control of himself and murdered the love of his life. He’s a vampire, and maybe a bit monstrous, in the right light, but his heart still beats faster when Michael looks at him, and he doubts he’ll ever be able to shake the warmth that infuses his body when their eyes meet. Together or not, Alex loves Michael, and while he may have managed to forgive himself for a long list of sins, killing him isn’t one that Alex could ever recover from. And a world without Michael isn’t one that he wants to exist in, even if the guilt wasn’t enough to kill him instantaneously.

None of that is information he plans on sharing with Guerin, at least not yet, not until he’s absolutely sure they can’t make it back to Roswell before the situation becomes critical. They don’t even know how far out they are -- maybe they can hike back in a few hours with no worse repercussions than dehydration and a sun burn. They both tend toward the pessimistic, both looking for the worst-case scenario as a direct result of the ways they were raised, but Alex doesn’t have any choice but to hope for the best, this time. Hope for the best … and prepare for the worst.

“I don’t know,” Alex lies, leaning down to hide his face under the guise of adjusting his compression sock. Even with all of the unpleasantness and recent distance between them, Michael knows Alex too well, and the last thing Alex wants is for him to read the falsehood in his expression. “But it doesn’t really matter now. We have to get back to town as soon as possible.”

Michael rolls his eyes. “No, really? I thought we’d stay and take a nice vacation,” he snarks, head cocked to one side as he rakes agitated fingers through his curls. Yellow powder again coalesces into a cloud around his head before falling to the sand, and Michael’s lips tighten angrily. “This stuff is literally choking me. I can’t reach Iz or Max until it’s gone, so we’re on our own, unless Daddy Dearest was nice enough to leave you a phone?”

Alex sighs heavily, eyeing the horizon with displeasure. It’s going to be a long fucking day. “We’d better get a move on, then,” he tells Michael, and points them north, toward what he hopes is civilization.

#rnmweek19 #roswellweek19 #my fic #malex fic #vampire AU #day 5: AU

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imaginesnkdorks · 5 years

Note

Uuuh can I get a farlan x reader one shot?? Like he meets the reader at the survey corps after they joined and he falls for the reader? That would be awesome :o I love this blog btw keep up the good work!!!

Farlan’s Promise

Words: 1742

Genre: Fluff, Angst

Pairing: Farlan x Reader

Warnings: Nothing, aside from Spoilers.

They were gangsters from the underground. What was Squad Leader Erwin thinking? Apparently, they were smart and was able to procure 3DM gears and use them masterfully. Even better than some Military Police, as some people say – which I honestly doubt. It took us three years of training to be able to use the gears effectively!

“Y/N! Ready the horses. The new recruits will be starting on that today.”

“Yes, sir!” It was Erwin Smith. Of course, it’s just my luck to get assigned to help those gangsters get used to riding horses. Obviously, there weren’t any horses down where they came from.

I stood waiting with four horses. Yes, just four. I can’t believe I’ll be handling this on my own! Is Commander Keith angry at me? Is this punishment for something?

“neighhhh!”

“What?!” The neigh of a horse pulled me from my thoughts so rudely. A redheaded girl was on a horse!

“Hey!” She just ignored me and went on laughing while the horse was trotting.

“Oh, don’t mind Isabell. She’s just excited to be on a horse.” A blond guy walked over to me, explaining things in a way as if he’d known me forever.

“Who are you?”

“Farlan Church.” He said, gesturing to shake my hand before continuing, “that one on the horse is Isabell, this guy here is Levi. We were introduced this morning? New recruits.”

Of course. Heat traveled my cheeks. What a first impression, I’ve made a total fool of myself. They were up front this morning. But I have an excuse! I was at the very back, you see… totally not paying attention. Oh god, is that why I’m here?

“Hello?” Farlan seemed to think I was a little too lost in my head and went on to wave his hand right in front of my face. Gulping, as if I could gulf down my embarrassment and restore some pride, I snapped out of it and stood a little straighter.

“I’m Y/N. I’ll be helping you with your horses today.” I turned around to look at that Isabell girl, and she was already prancing around the field. First time, huh? “She seems to be doing well enough.”

“Yes. Isabell has always been better handling animals, right Levi?” Farlan replied, suddenly wrapping an arm on Levi’s shoulder – which annoyed the shorter man.

“Tsk. This is a waste of time.” Levi’s tone is akin to a sharp knife.

“This is important, Levi. Out of these walls, having a horse could be the difference between life and death. We have nowhere to run to out there.” I’m surprised I was still able to keep my mood in check.

“Yes, Levi. Listen to Y/N.” Farlan took my side, eh? “So, where do we start?”

That was tiring. Isabell turned out to be a natural equestrian. It’s almost unbelievable it was her first time on a horse. Another surprising thing about her? She’s not what I expected of a gangster. I honestly enjoyed being around her. Pretty much the opposite with Levi. He would throw in an insult every now and then, which will be instantly shut down by Farlan. Then Levi decided to keep his mouth shut, but the way he looks at me was equally as hurtful as his words.

Farlan, on the other hand, was amazing – for lack of better word. He was kind, and such a gentleman. We ended up riding around at a slow pace, talking about our lives. It was like I’ve known him forever. That would have been a nice end to my day, however, I still have work to do. The Commander just asked me to deliver some files to Squad Leader Erwin.

It was quiet around the offices, as most of the people are either having dinner or are still running around the field or doing simulations in the training area. Erwin, being the dedicated and hardworking person that he is, is still in his office.

“Come in.” Came his voice at my knock.

“Sir, the commander asked me to give you this.” His office was huge! And neat, might I add.

“Thank you.” Erwin said, attention already back on what he was doing. I saluted before leaving but I doubt that he even saw it. Now that that’s done, my day is officially over – “Ah! Owww.”

“I’m sorry!”

Yeah, I’d bump into someone face first as I turn the corner. “Farlan?” As it happens, it was him again.

“Y/N, are you alright?” He helped to my feet, grabbing my hand in the process… oh. His warm hands.

“Yes,” I answered, sounding very breathless. “I wasn’t looking, I’m sorry.”

“No, no. It’s my fault. Are you sure you’re alright? Nothing hurts?” He asked, concern evident on both his face and voice. Huh, it feels nice to have someone care for you. Not that I think he cares! No, he’s just… guilty, right? That he bumped into me.

“Of course. I’m a big girl.” I said… oh my god. What kind of answer is that?

“Oh. Haha, of course, you are.” Farlan chuckled before letting go of my hand. He was smiling – maybe at the thought of my foolishness.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, desperate to change the subject. “These are the office wing.” At that, it suddenly occurred to me how strange it is to bump into him here. I don’t frequent this area and I’ve been in the Survey Corps for almost two years. The reason being that file and rank soldiers aren’t really allowed here, except when they have business with an officer as I did.

“Just taking a walk.”

“Huh, but we’re… I mean, you’re not really allowed here?” Now he’d think I’m rude. I’m sure of it!

“I know. I’m a bad boy.” He said, with a wink.

Do you know what a blushing mess is? It’s me at this very moment. Farlan laughed at the blushing mess.

“Are you just about to head to eat?”

“Ah, no. I’ll just be walking around some. Before going to bed.”

“Great! I’ll walk with you.”

That’s how I ended up walking with Farlan, right at the field where we rode horses this morning. I really do enjoy being with him. He has a lot of interesting things to say.

“And Levi just sliced up his hand in a flick!” He said, eyes glinting with energy, voice buzzing with excitement.

“All that just because he tried to touch Levi?”

“Yep. With a dirty hand.”

“Wow.” I was stunned. From now on, I won’t be rude to Levi.

“How about you Y/N, how did you end up here?” He asked, all curious now and looking at me as if what I was about to say is very important.

“Well… It’s really constricting inside the walls, don’t you think? Everything’s the same. I wanted to see if there could be something more.” I answered honestly.

“I think I understand.” He then smiled at me, and it was the most beautiful smile I’ve seen. We kept walking and talking under the moonlight, and somehow, our hands ended up clasp together. We reached the barracks and everything was silent – aside from the occasional chirping buds and the rustling of the leaves.

“That was fun.” He said, suddenly looking at our hands.

“Yes. I’m glad I got to know you better.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.” He said, as he closed the gap between us and kissed me on my forehead. A kiss! I was stunned and my heart felt like it jumped to my throat. Excitement rushed throughout my body and I am just very happy.

“Goodnight.” Was all I could say, though, before entering the building and making my way to my room. The smile on my face never left.

It was like that the following days. Sometimes we’ll lay on the grass, at the clearing in the woods near the barracks. Other times, we’ll be at the rooftop gazing at the moon and stars. There were also days where we’d sneak out to the lake near HQ and just sit and talk. And just like that, Farlan became the most important person in my life. Which is why I am dreading tomorrow.

“Hey, you haven’t been smiling. Don’t tell me you already tire of my company?” Farlan asked, poking my cheek in his playfully adorable manner.

“No, it’s not that. It’s just…” a heavy sigh escaped and I couldn’t get my next words out.

“What is it?” He whispered, warm hands resting on my cheeks.

“It’s tomorrow. The expedition.”

Knots formed on Farlan’s forehead. We haven’t talked about it. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath before opening them again. The fire of resolve was very evident, eyes of someone very determined.

“Nothing bad is going to happen. We’ll live through it, get back here safely.” He said, hold on my face a little firmer, the resolve on his eyes ever stronger.

“I’m scared.” I confessed. I’ve seen the Titans. I know what we’ll be facing. Before meeting Farlan, my fear was just for myself. For my friends too, yes. But it wasn’t like this. The prospect of losing Farlan is just unthinkable.

“I’ll be right beside you the whole way. I promise.”

I believed him. I know he’d do as he says. If Farlan said we’ll be okay, we will be. I nodded, weakly. A second or two passed before Farlan took the leap and kissed me. It was everything I could ever want. Gentle but strong, it made me happy and ache. It lasted forever but was over in a second. That was the moment I was sure that I love him.

“Y/N, it will be okay. I love you, I won’t let anything happen to you… I would… I would die for you.”

My grip on him got tighter. “Don’t. Don’t you dare die for me. Live! Live with me, please.”

He nodded, sincerely. “I promise. We’ll survive this.” Then he kissed me. Again, then again, and again.

But… he broke his promise.

#farlan church #farlan #furlan church #furlan #farlan x reader #farlan church x reader #snk farlan #snk fanfic #one shot #one shots #snk one shots #SnK Oneshots #snk imagine #snk fanfiction #mod max

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anneblu2 · 5 years

Text

haha

Special thanks to

SergeiK

#beemovie #fuckyou #bee movie #i hate this #i hate my life #i hate it #i hate everything

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crankysmiles · 6 years

Text

Super Fan

Superhero reader x Ethan

Prompt: There’s a hostage situation at VidCon and a superhero jumps in and saves the YouTubers lives including Ethan who gets caught up in the madness

A/N: this was actually super fun to write! it took all day but i’m honestly proud of it hahah

It’s a normal day for you at Vidcon. You’re living a normal day, a normal life, and seeing your average, but favorite, YouTuber Ethan (aka the CrankGamePlays).

Let’s just say though... you aren’t exactly normal or average. You try to be, but it’s difficult to do so when you have superpowers. Especially when you possess the power of wielding any weapon you want. Now, that would seem really cool and subtle, but every weapon you conjure is of magic substance. And every weapon is oddly mystical and purple.

A lot less subtle but still super badass. It isn’t easy to deal with either. But those are other stories for a different day.

Back to the story of your supernormal, average day! Everything is going great, you find yourself sitting down for a panel that Mark, Ethan, and Tyler are running. You sit a few rows back from the front, enjoying every moment.

Within moments though, you gain an unsettling feeling in your gut. You peer over the crowd to see what you think is a minor commotion occurring in the front row until you hear a scream. Suddenly Ethan and Mark stand, terrified but stoic.

Sneaking to the front row, you continue to watch what’s going down, your heart jolts due to the horror of what you’re witnessing.

An older man, who seems to be in his late forties, is holding a gun against a younger girl’s head. She’s trembling and crying to be freed. You can’t hear their voices but you can see Ethan and Mark attempting to negotiate with the man. But much to their avail, it’s no use.

Rolling your eyes, you sneak behind the panel stage and rush to change into your costume.

Meanwhile, Ethan, Mark, and Tyler are conjuring up a plan.

“What the fuck do we do? We can’t just stand here and wait for more people to get hurt!” Ethan exclaims. Mark furrows his eyebrows and glances at the man, then back to his friends.

“The police will be here soon, and the guards for the building are already here...” Mark crosses his arms and sighs.

“Yeah but they’re not doing shit! One wrong move and the girl could die...” Tyler spoke up, obviously on the fence about what to do.

Ethan isn’t having it though. Without saying anything else, he marches off the stage and proceeds to make his way to the man and girl.

They’re only a few steps away, Ethan thinks.

The man, who’s filled with rage, tightens his grip on the girl and clutches the gun closer to her head.

“Stay the fuck away! I’ll... I’ll blow her fucking brains out!” The man yells at Ethan, and to prove he isn’t bluffing, he clicks off the safety. This scares the girl, causing her to whimper and cry out for help once more.

Ethan holds up his arms and takes a step forward, “Listen, man... we’re not here to hurt you.”

Another step is taken.

Slipping on your shoes, you peer around the corner and see Ethan making his way to the man.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck...” You mutter. You fumble with your mask, attempting to put it on. Then, you come up with a plan.

Ethan is terrified. There’s a chance someone could die and he can’t believe he’s risking it. Still, he walks forward, “No one needs to get hurt... just put the gun down...”

You rush around the panel, near Ethan and the man. You just have to wait for the right moment to pounce.

“TAKE ONE MORE FUCKING STEP AND YOU’RE BOTH DEAD,” The old man screams, raising the gun towards Ethan now. To Ethan’s left, he hears his friends begging him to come back.

“Ethan please don’t do this!”

“Come on man... just come back!”

To his right, he notices everyone in the crowd tensing up. Still, his gut is saying go, and he does.

BANG

Ethan flinches, expecting pain. To his surprise though, there isn’t any. He looks up to see you, holding a purple, almost transparent, shield. You’re staring hard at the man, but then you turn towards Ethan.

“You okay?” You raise an eyebrow. Ethan simply nods, his eyes are big. You give Ethan a sincere smile and walk over to the man and the girl. The bullet had ricocheted off the shield and hit the man in the shoulder, taking him down.

The police take the man away and you tend to the girl, making sure she’s with her parents. Afterward, you feel a tap on your shoulder. You turn to see Ethan, he still has big eyes and his mouth slightly agape. You smile and wave at him.

“Hi, there!”

“I... um... hi,” He awkwardly waves back, then proceeds to scratch his neck while looking down. “I just wanted to thank you for uh... saving my life.”

You chuckle, “It’s no problem! Really... I’m a huge fan actually, so it was the least I could do.”

Ethan laughs, holding his head. “The least? Hell... haha I’m sorry but the least my fans do is send fan mail or some shit. So you saving my life is HUGE!”

You feel your cheeks heat up, giving out a small laugh you agree, “Yeah... I guess you could call me a superfan?”

Ethan cackles at that. “Hey, you’re cute and funny! I bet your superhero boyfriend hella digs you!” You give him a weird look. “What? Just a regular boyfriend?”

“No boyfriend actually...” Ethan raises an eyebrow but gets an idea. He pulls out a sharpie and grabs your hand, you watch as he writes his number on the back of your hand. He sticks his hands in his pockets and smiles.

“Cool! Maybe if you’re interested in boring guys then text me! We can get some average, not-so-super coffee?” You think for a moment but he continues to talk. “I know we just met but it’s the only way I can pay you back for saving my life...”

“By... going on a date with me?” He laughs again and looks to the side.

“...alright I’m in. Friday at Dunkin Donuts, I’ll text you what time!” Ethan perks up, happy that you accepted.

“Sounds great!”

After conversing and flirting with Ethan for a little bit, you tell him you have to head home. Driving back, you could only anticipate how your future date could go. Guess you could say you had a super night.

#crankgameplays x reader #ethan nestor x reader #teamiplier x reader #teamiplier imagines #markiplier x reader #markiplier imagines #tyler scheid x reader #tyler scheid imagine

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ofcloudsandstars · 6 years

Text

I've surpassed a quarter of a century living here. It felt like an eternity, like I've lived several lives already. I know around each quarter of a century saturn will return to the same place it was when you were born but saturn hasn't made it's return for me just yet.

To be honest almost every year my birthday depresses me. I have been having existential crises since I was 7 years old. I remember one night I was in bed with my mom staring at some old victorian wallpaper and having a moment of awareness that was outside of who I was. I asked her "Why am I here? Why was I born in this time? And also in this place and country when I could have been born to any parents in any place on this earth. Why do I exist?" I could imagine from her perspective to have your child ask you this at 10pm is like overwhelming but that thought and emotion never left me for 19 years.

I never asked to be here.

I often feel like wherever I came from I miss it a lot. I feel like there was some kind of mistake and that I've fallen from some other existence that was nicer and now I am on this dying planet constricted by time and decay with creatures that only care about consuming everything they can. There is so much potential here and so much to be given but it's been spoiled over time, claimed by violence and anyone who tried to change it would get assassinated.

I remember when I was in nursery school (I still have so many vivid childhood memories) and I was graduating with my class into pre-K and we had to do an assembly where we told middle schoolers what we aspired to be when we grew up and I remembered my answer was Jesus and I probably remembered this so vividly cause my teacher had an Episode about it. Like: You can't say that!! Do you know what you said?? Like she wanted me to understand the gravity of my statement but I didn't understand why it was so shocking. I am Obviously not christian, haha if you know me you know that, but as a child I understood that someone like Jesus was selfless and cared about people even if they were outcasted and unloved and cared about fixing the corruption of the government and he was killed for it. I didn't understand much of christianity as a child and I HATED going to church but even when I was 6 I knew what it meant to be selfless and to give unconditional love because sometimes doing acts of kindness can inspire others to heighten their awareness yet I lost respect for religion when I was a teen cause I saw how prophets' simple messages of being thoughtful were weaponized cause nothing on this plane can ever stay uncorrupted for power. Anyway I said I wanted to be a motorcyclist. I mean as a 5 year old I just said it as 'motorcycle guy' and the teacher thought that was good enough. I still think motorcycles are cool haha.

It wasn't until I was an adolescent that I was hyper aware of death in every way. It was the worst time of my life. Everything idealistic I felt about this world was wiped away and I became aware of the realities of racism, sexism, everything -ism that made me feel like I wasn't allowed to enjoy anything. I could go on and on about the effects of racism and sexism and how my gender and sexuality felt like a prison and how once again I never decided on any of these things but it felt like I was out of place and on top of that there were consequences for being out of place. As a girl especially finding a guy to love you was something they brainwash in you early and if you couldn't you wouldn't have value. As a girl, you always looked externally for people to validate you with their love cause you weren't allowed to love yourself. Living in a body that wasn't the right race, gender and sexuality made me feel hopeless and full of hate and that I would never be accepted. I was suicidal and I felt like it wouldn't make a difference if I ended myself then or waited cause I wasn't living life anyway and I knew some inevitable death was coming. Like a huge storm in the horizon. It was the time of my life reoccuring dreams of the apocalypse were coming. Night after night I would have dreams running around in cities avoiding mobs while heat waves burned everything or tsunamis came or some plague effected millions creating some zombie like reality. I never enjoyed being a teenager and it lead into my young adult life. I always wanted to go out and be carefree, do stupid things, get drunk, have a young love and not worry about the world yet there was always some constraint like strict parents or not being the ideal woman to 'deserve' these things and I felt like I was wasting the one part of my life I could enjoy before the global darkness arrived.

I always felt like I was born at the end of something. Even when I finally had the chance to go out people would tell stories about how great certain places to go out where or places to experience, or urban cultures that could be found in some areas but they 'no longer exist'. 'People don't do that anymore'. "It used to be wild but now it's strict". "The place was torn down for condos". "It got commercialized and tickets are expensive, but the culture isn't even there so it's not worth it". Nothing lasts forever and neither did my adolescence. It was the one time I tried to give what this society have to offer a chance and I accept it wasn't meant for me. I was born in the wrong time when everything was ending.

And though this world has given me constaint restraints I still am trying to make the most of this existence. I've accepted that we live in some kind of hell and it's inevitable for suffering to end. People could give messages of compassion and it would be weaponized to control others or commercialized to sell overharvested crystals and herbs in huge businesses. To live we have to eat other living sentient beings cause that's how energy is transferred unless you are a plant that can do photosynthesis but they can still suck water and minerals from their neighbors for their needs. There is no balance here. I find living exhausting. I still don't know how I got here.

I did ask my mom a year or so ago on my birthday why she had me. She just said 'it was the thing to do'. So I am alive cause it was a thing people do, just have children I guess. I wonder if I am just a product of my body like am I a conscious being because of the energy generated in this sack of flesh or do I also have some element of me that came from a world beyond this one. If I am just a physical being then why do I constantly feel out of place for nearly two decades. I could describe it as a kind of dysphoria for my being, like I don't feel like I am a woman but I definitely don't feel like I was meant to be a human being and that there was a mistake.

I know that time can reveal some truths and I always dream about using my suffering to create some kind of balance here. Maybe it was a good thing that I feel I would never find love so I wouldn't get confined to some relationship where a boy would dictate my life. I stopped caring about being validated by others and I tried to focus on validating myself. It was probably a good thing that I was shut at home and unable to go out because what is conventially seen as a good time is self destructive and I shouldn't be trying to escape reality. Maybe just maybe it is a good thing that I was born into a world that will meet it's end soon because I am already unattached to my life here but maybe I should use my energy to be selfless like the people I looked up to when I was a child and try to bring positive change even if it means being assassinated cause I would either die by the hands of corrupted forces or by mother nature and it's better to try then to wait around to die because that's another form of suffering and being confined.

---

For years I wanted to be an architect and urban planner. If we want to back track after I got shamed for wanting to be jesus at around 8 I was obsessed with being an astronaut. I wanted to see if I could explore other worlds out there and find something beyond earth that was a place that was full of adventure and escape. After learning how literally everything up there can kill you and that it required math I was into robotics in my early teens. I thought creating a reflection of sentient life was amazing and could open up doors to how we understood ourselves but I literally had teachers in my middleschool repeat how it was difficult for women to succeed in science and it was hard and Everything in life was hard for me then and I just wanted to conform and please others so I dropped it and didn't really care about my future until the middle of highschool where they pressure you to start thinking about it to apply for college. I think what made me want to be an urban planner was that my escape was day dreaming and it was in late middleschool I would day dream about my ideal society that resembled absolutely nothing close to this one. I knew it was far fetched so I just pursued something I knew I was good at doing since I did it in my spare time which was game design. It was really an excuse and something fun to study to appease everyone that I was in college so I wouldn't kill myself studying some other boring garbage but it was also a cop out since I was too afraid to pursue urban planning since it's intensely political and I felt like I could never go far. Instead now I am a bartender, another skill I find enjoyable in my free time that's now killing me as a job that I absolutely hate. I am about to go into reception which I know will be worse but it will just pay bills.

I think this year after 25 years of just 'living' I should try to pursue what I care about. I am now in a place where education is cheaper and they care about society and the environment so it could be feasible and less of a risk then in the US where I could end up hundreds of thousands in debt for chasing a dream. I have met so many amazing people that made me feel less alone and have the same drive and passions as me and maybe we can learn and build together. Even if my life feels like some kind of accident or something that was done to consolidate a marriage it doesn't have to be wasted. I still am not a fan of being here but I am happy to say that my 26th birthday was the first after YEARS that I have not woken up depressed and I think it's because its a shift for me and maybe finally I won't be constrained.

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