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callsign-venus · 24 days

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For the Love of Love | Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Reader | Part II

Part I | Series Masterlist

Summary: You immediately have doubts. As the morning goes on, they only get stronger. Good thing Bradley can be normal about this. Right?

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: fake dating, fake dating Bradley Bradshaw in particular, completely implied age gap

a/n: Thank all y'all for the response to the first part :) I was so nervous to post it, but everyone has been so kind and encouraging! Also, I've created a taglist for this series -- please let me know if you'd like to be tagged in future updates! Ok, ok, let's get this show on the road (literally, we're on the way to Tahoe lol), enjoy x

It was 6:15 am. Streetlights washed your walls a bright, sterile white. You paced in front of your door. Next to it, your pink luggage set waited for you dutifully. Bradley was supposed to pick you up 15 minutes ago. He hadn’t responded to any of your texts. Or your calls.

Were you dumb for thinking he really wanted to join you – and your entire family – in Tahoe? Was he drunker than he let on last night, or maybe he forgot entirely? You hoped not, you’d already bought him the seat next to you on the plane. You really didn’t want to explain to your parents why they were paying for two plane seats when only you arrived at the cabin.

You checked your phone. 6:17. Soon, you’d have to drive by yourself. Maybe he’d catch you at the airport.

Just as you made for your keys, there was a sharp knock at your door. You undid the deadbolt and flung it open. Bradley stood in the sickly yellow light of the hallway, looking better than you wanted him to in just gray sweats and a black hoodie.

“Good morning!” He was surprisingly chirpy for how early it was.

“You’re late. Why didn’t you answer my texts?”

“What texts?”

“The texts I sent you?” You grabbed all three pieces of your luggage and struggled through the door frame.

“My phone died.” He was tapping his phone screen like he was just realizing that it wasn’t turning on. He gave up, pocketed the phone, and lifted the two biggest suitcases out of your hands. “Jesus, how long are we going to be gone? It’s like you packed your whole closet.”

“Three days. But I have to be prepared.” You locked up your apartment and started down the stairs, your suitcase clanking down each step. Your neighbors were probably thrilled.

Bradley followed behind you, lifting your other suitcases as if they weighed nothing.

“So you’re just going to travel with a dead phone?” You asked when you finally made it to the lobby.

He shrugged. “Is your phone charged?”

“Of course.”

“Works good enough for me.”

He reached over your head to hold open the front door as you dragged your suitcase into the brisk early morning. His Bronco shone like adventure. You and Bradley loaded your luggage, and he opened the door for you to get into the passenger seat.

“Coffees?” You asked as he slid into the driver’s seat and started the car.

He glanced down at the twin iced coffees lined up in the cupholders between you. “I thought it'd help us get through the early morning. I didn’t know what you liked though, so I just got you my drink.”

You stabbed a straw through the plastic lid of the coffee and took a sip. It was shockingly sweet. You coughed a little.

“You like it?” Bradley smiled, keeping his eyes on the road. “I’ve perfected my order. Caramel and white mocha and cinnamon sprinkle on top.”

You take another sip. Without the sweetness taking you by surprise, it was much better. “It’s good. I would have pegged you for a hot black coffee guy, though.”

“I’m full of surprises.” He merged on the freeway.

The sound of the road passing under the Bronco filled the silence of the car.

“So…” Bradley tapped his thumb against the Bronco’s wheel, the echoes of some song you didn’t know. “What’s your family like?”

You watched lights flick on in the windows of the buildings you passed. People getting ready for their typical days. You pressed down a shock of panic. This was absurd. But Bradley seemed committed, and if it was going to work, you had to set him up for success. That meant warning him about your family.

“Well, my Grandma Sybil and Grandpa Thomas have been married for sixty years. Obviously.” Nervous laughter bubbled from your lips before you could stop it. “They’re Grandma and Grandpa. I grew up going to their house and stuffing myself on her cookies and falling asleep on his lap. But Grandma Sybil can be… stern.”

He stopped tapping his thumb to snag his coffee and take a sip. “Like, how so?”

“She’s just a little rough around the edges. She had a tough life before meeting my grandfather, and though she softened to him, I don’t think she softened much to the rest of the world. Just, don’t take it personally if she doesn’t warm up to you right away. Or at all.”

“Noted.” You heard him swallow.

You picked at a seam in your pants. “And their oldest daughter is my Aunt Marnie. She’s married to Uncle Jim. They run a crystal shop just outside of Vegas. They might try to push moonstone or onyx on you. Just smile and accept it.”

“Ok. Marnie and Jim. Crystals.” He committed the names to memory.

“Their daughter Sabrine just got married.”

“You went to the wedding, I remember.”

You flushed, grateful that the sun hadn’t quite risen yet and the hotness of your cheeks dissipated in the darkened car. He had remembered. You didn’t think any detail of your life was important enough for him to care to remember – and it really was just one week that you were gone – but maybe your life had bled into the Daggers’ more than you thought.

As the airport came into view, you told him about Sabrine and how she would bring her new husband Matt. She was already seven months pregnant. Grandma Sybil was less than pleased, but Grandpa Thomas either didn’t care or hadn't worked out the math.

“And what do your aunt and uncle think?” Bradley asked.

“I think they’re just happy that she’s happy. They sound excited to be grandparents. But Auntie Marnie did complain that the wedding was tacky.”

Bradley snorted. “Was it?”

“It was sweet,” you said. “It was in his mom’s backyard. The colors were red and black, but it was sweet.”

An airplane roared overhead, glinting in the sun that was just sharpening over the horizon.

Bradley pulled into the airport’s parking garage. He had only packed himself a duffle bag, so he was able to carry all of your luggage plus his own. In exchange, you carried both coffees and locked the Bronco. You slipped Bradley’s keys into his pocket as he instructed, your fingers warming where they grazed the fabric of his sweats.

The airport was fizzing with the whispers of early morning travelers. You rubbed your eyes as you stepped under the fluorescent lights, taking stock of just how many others were yawning and lining up at the baggage counter under those same lights. Why was the airport so busy before 7am?

As if he could read your mind (or maybe he just saw you tense up at the sight of so many people), Bradley said, “It’s ok. We still have time.”

His reassurance drove you to action. You traded his coffee for your bags and shuffled into line for the check in counter. From the standstill line, you watched Bradley as he wandered around the walkway, taking sips of his coffee, staring up at the ceiling, and generally being a 6’1” hazard to the travelers rushing to get to the TSA line. You rolled your suitcases across the green gray carpets the check in counter line eked forward, nearly running into the old man in front of you as you kept your gaze on Bradley. Why was even his boredom endearing?

Just before you got to the front of the line, he stopped and stared up at the ceiling, causing a woman who was looking at her phone to crash into him. You giggled as you watched him apologize, and saw, in real time, as the woman went from indignant to flustered as she realized how hot he was. She tried to strike up a conversation, but he caught your gaze from across the room. Her eyes followed his, and when it hit you, she was quick to disappear into the airport crowd.

Your face grew hot. You mouthed sorry to him as the woman at the counter was calling you forward. You were a little sorry; she was very pretty. But some part of you delighted in being perceived as his girlfriend, even if it was easier to convince a stranger than your family.

“Ma’am, next guest.” The stern voice of the woman at the counter shook you from your thoughts.

Once your bags were checked, you caught up with Bradley. The two of you rounded the corner only to stop short when you saw the enormous security line.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” you groaned.

“We’ll be fine. It’s only 7:15.” Bradley nudged your shoulder with his. “Plus, it gives us time to get our story straight.”

“Our story?” You asked as you both stepped into line.

“Yeah. Like, how did we meet?”

You didn’t skip a beat. “Nat introduced us.”

“That was quick.” He raised his eyebrows.

“Well, let’s try to stick with reality as much as possible. And my family loves Nat, her stamp of approval will go down great.” You really hoped no one could hear you two. But the steady murmur of overlapping early-morning conversation seemed to drown out your weird topic of conversation.

“Well, how long have we been dating?”

That you had to think about. “Well, it can’t be too short, otherwise it would be weird that I’m bringing you.”

“It’s already weird.” He laughed.

“They don’t need to know that,” you said. “How long do you think we could pass for? 2 months? 6?”

“Aren’t they going to ask why you’ve never talked about me or brought me around?”

“Good point. We’ll say 4, and I’ll just tell them I wanted to be sure before I told them about you.”

“You think we could convince them we’ve been dating for four months?”

You shrugged, but your stomach somersaulted. “We can try.”

“Like this?” He grabbed your hand and laced his fingers between yours.

Your hand tensed. Your stomach did a whole gymnastics routine. You were holding hands with Bradley Bradshaw in the airport. You looked around, sure that any TSA agent in your vicinity could sense your anxiety and pull you for secondary screening.

“Relax.” He patted your hand with his free one. “We’re not going to get far like this.”

You forced your fingers to meld with his. The iced coffee and your nerves were a terrible mix for your empty stomach.

“Better.” He kept hold of your hand as you shuffled up the line. Then he grinned.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“You know those couples in lines at amusement parks?” A lopsided smile brightened his face. “When they’re waiting in line?”

“The ones that are really into PDA?”

“Exactly.” He dropped your hand, slid up behind you, and wrapped his arms across your waist and rested his chin on your shoulder. “All we need to do is follow their lead.”

You did everything in your power to stay upright and keep your breathing steady with his chin pressing into your skin. He kept hold of you as the line moved up. You clenched your hands, your nails digging crescents into your palms. There was no way he couldn’t hear your racing heart and your ragged breathing.

“And there’s this move.”

As the line slouched to a stop, he spun you around, still keeping hold of your waist, but now you were face to face. You looked up at him, tried to form a sentence, but found yourself completely dumb. He leaned his forehead against yours. Surely he could feel the warmth of your face, see the confused longing in your eyes. He smiled at you for just a second before he broke away from you and threw his head back laughing, drawing glares from your fellow sleep-deprived travelers.

You were practically mute through the rest of security. Bradley seemed to have fun grabbing your hand, draping an arm around your shoulders, and messing with your hair. You wondered if he knew the effect he was having on you or if he was earnestly trying to practice for your family. Maybe he was just trying to rile you up.

“You were great.” He patted the top of your head, causing your heart to shrivel a bit. “We’ll have them all wrapped around our fingers.”

You cleared your throat and tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

Once you were through security, you broke up to scrounge some breakfast. Well, that’s what you let Bradley think anyway. You tried to beat down the butterflies in your stomach as you wove between slow-walking travelers toting huge suitcases and knots of families with waddling toddlers, straight to the bathroom.

The stall offered you just enough privacy to freak out. You felt your face, your waist, flexed your hands right in front of your eyes. It took you months to not freak out about the platonic arm draped around your shoulders, his quick hugs goodbye at the Hard Deck. How on Earth were you going to be normal about this?

He complimented you on a job well done, but in truth, he did all the work. You didn’t reach out for him once in the security line. Would your family even believe you liked him? After that performance, the idea that they could possibly think that you were in love seemed laughable.

The weekend stretched long ahead of you. You were beginning to realize how stupid it was for you to begin such a ruse that you’d have to keep up for three days. You wondered if Bradley would react poorly to being sent home after already getting through security.

You hurriedly texted Nat – who knew very well how you felt about her coworker, almost to the point where she might have purposefully orchestrated your trip. It was a bit of a text wall, detailing the TSA line and your dread about the weekend. If she wasn’t already working, she would probably be asleep for three more hours, so you pocketed your phone after hitting send.

The sound of a flushing toilet reminded you that, yes, you were having a small crisis in a public bathroom. That thought was so sad that you took a deep breath, set your shoulders, and walked out of the stall to face the world.

From a little store, you picked up a berry parfait for breakfast and a bottled orange juice, since the TSA confiscated your half-empty iced coffee.

You found Gate 4. People were falling asleep upright in the airport seats, blankets and pillows abound. It smelled like the Jack in the Box across the way. You found two empty seats by the window and kicked up your feet to reserve one for Bradley.

He found you ten minutes later, carrying a bag stuffed with two bagels – one sausage and egg breakfast sandwich and one cinnamon raisin with strawberry cream cheese, he explained. You nodded as you dropped your feet and scraped the rest of your yogurt out of your cup.

“So your cousin Sabrine is pregnant and your grandma isn’t happy,” he said around a big bite of bagel, egg, and sausage. “What else?”

“Well, my grandparents’ youngest child is Auntie Elaine. She lives in Alaska with her husband. They breed sled dogs.”

Bradley paused right before another bite. “Really?”

“Yeah, it’s pretty cool. Some of their dogs run the Iditarod, and I think one was part of the winning team a few years back. They have twins a little older than me. Nora and her wife Madison, they’re… really cool. Last I heard, they were climbing K2. And there’s Nora’s twin brother Owen. He has a girlfriend named Addison, which I think is funny. Madison and Addison. The twins don’t think it’s as funny as I do.”

Bradley laughed. The bagel sandwich was gone, and he traded the leftover wad of greasy wrapping paper for the cinnamon raisin bagel. “And what’s the deal with Owen and Addison?”

“They’re pretty chill.” You thought about it for a minute. “Owen used to punch drywall, but he’s calmed down.”

Bradley stared at you, waiting for you to laugh.

The gate agent called you to board before you could explain. Though you didn’t think any explanation would be helpful.

The plane ride was nice and short. You slept through most of the hour and a half. You were mortified to wake up on Bradley’s shoulder as the plane jolted in the harsh turbulence that shrouded the Reno airport.

You sat bolt upright, fully awake. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He patted your thigh assuredly. “It’s good practice.”

You didn’t have time to freak out at his touch because the plane rocked again. You’d experienced this turbulence countless times, something about the mountains and the desert air made the plane bounce around like a toy in the hands of an overexcited toddler. Still, as the plane jerked down, it planted a pit in your stomach that made your hands clammy.

When the plane dipped again, you clutched the armrest. You didn’t want to look at Bradley, who probably thought your overreaction was silly. He’d experienced g-forces upwards of 8Gs countless times. It was bad enough flying next to Nat, who you knew would never judge you, but next to Bradley, you felt like a little kid scared of the dark.

“Hey,” he gingerly pried your hand off the armrest and held it with a softness you didn’t expect from him, “look at me.”

You tore your eyes away from the flight tracker on the display in front of you, worried you’d see judgment in his dark eyes. But his expression was everything soft.

He smiled when you met his gaze. “We’re going to be fine. Trust me, I’ve flown a plane or two.”

You laughed despite the plane suddenly banking upward.

He squeezed your hand as the plane leveled. “So here’s the deal: you keep looking at me. You can only panic if I start panicking. Deal?”

You nodded. “Deal.”

He held your hand and your eyes until the plane kissed the blessed tarmac. By then, the pit in your stomach had been flooded with a mushy feeling you simply did not have time to drain because the seatbelt sign dinged off, and you had a rental car to secure.

Getting out of the airport went as smoothly as possible. Within 20 minutes of deboarding, you and all your luggage was crammed into a rental Prius. Bradley’s nose crinkled when he first saw it, but he folded himself into the passenger seat without complaint.

You fiddled with the radio until you got it to play a throwback ‘70s station, then peeled out of the airport. Soon, the dusty city of Reno and its casinos were in the rearview, and the Sierra Nevadas loomed large on the horizon. When the road lifted off the desert floor and began winding through the foothills, childhood excitement drummed through your veins. As the car screamed along the highway, desert scrub blurred into pine trees that jutted straight up toward the endless blue sky. Patches of snow bloomed in their shade.

“Wow,” Bradley said as the trees grew thicker like a tightly stitched blanket over the mountains. Snow carpeted the ground. Little cabins shone through the forest and snow like jewels.

“Wait until we get around this mountain.” You couldn’t keep the smile off your face. You carefully made a sharp turn, the mountainside steep and unwelcoming. But as the car straightened out, the trees yawned apart, and you caught Bradley gawking at the lake out of the corner of your eye.

Nestled between snow-draped mountains, it shone like a sapphire in the late morning sun.

You’d spent several summers splashing in its frigid waters with your cousins until your skin was so covered in goosebumps that Grandma Sybil threatened to pluck you for Christmas dinner. The same lake was the backdrop to hundreds upon hundreds of ski runs and one trip down the mountain with ski patrol. Your arm still ached to think about that late February day, even all these years later.

“It’s beautiful,” Bradley said, and you agreed wholeheartedly.

Your phone’s navigation system stated that there was only 20 minutes until you reached your grandparent’s cabin. You sucked in a breath between your teeth and cracked a window, hoping the cold, piny air would help settle your stomach. It didn’t. But you still had to finish giving Bradley the family rundown.

“My parents are Sean and Catherine,” you said. “My dad might try to intimidate you, but don’t worry, he’s a softie.”

“Ok.”

You couldn’t be sure he was paying attention, as his face was all but pressed against the window, soaking in the spectacular views. Even if you wanted to be mad, you really couldn’t blame him.

You stepped on the breaks as the road started dipping down a little. “My mom will be the most problematic. I swear sometimes she can read my mind. Whatever we do, it’ll be hard to convince her.”

“We’re going to be there in 18 minutes. Next time, a little more heads up please?”

“Sorry, sorry.” Your grip on the steering wheel tightened. “Just tell her that you take me to Vino in La Jolla and buy me flowers.”

“Is that what your ideal man would do?”

Would it be so bad if you just drove off the road? The steep mountainside looked more inviting by the second.

“Shut up.” You froze your gaze to the winding road. “I have a brother, his name is Tommy.”

“I know,” he said. “I think I’ve met him once – when he was in San Diego for spring break?”

“Oh, yeah, I forgot,” you said. “Well, he and his girlfriend Georgia are high school sweethearts. They’re the perfect couple, and it makes me sick.”

Bradley chuckled. “Noted.”

“So first goal: be believable.”

He laid his hand on your thigh. “Done.”

“Good.” His hand was burning hot. The car swerved ever so slightly as you lost focus on the road for a moment. “Second goal: be a better couple than Tommy and Georgia.”

“Let’s not try to overshoot this. We’ve only been dating for 4 months.”

You laughed in spite of yourself. When you eventually found your real partner, and everyone gathered in Tahoe again for Tommy and Georgia’s wedding, or a wintery ski trip, or whatever comes next for your family, you’ll come clean. You’ll cling to your partner and tell everyone all about your good friend Bradley Bradshaw and how the two of you never really dated. Your grandparents’ anniversary will be a hazy memory, but everyone will remember the tall, good-looking naval aviator and his (totally out of season) Hawaiian shirts and giant mustache. There would be shock, but eventually it would be an inside joke for years to come. You just had to get through this weekend.

Too soon, you were pulling into the cabin’s long, steep driveway. The cabin itself jutted off of the mountainside, its tapered roof giving it a harsh look, though you swore when you were little it just made it look cozy and inviting. Its windows were like glassy eyes following the Prius.

You put the car in park and turned to Bradley.

“Ready?” You asked.

“Ready, babe.”

Before you could fully register the fact that he called you babe, the cabin’s front door slammed open, and your family bursted out to greet you and the mysterious man you’d arrived with.

The knot in your stomach tightened like a noose.

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@djs8891 @avengersfan25 @cornishkat @julielightwood @makingpeoplelaughsince1995 @abitdemented @darksparklesficrecs @igotmajordaddyissues @cupofchamomileeee @imaginationlover101 @simpfictionalcharacters

#top gun maverick fanfiction #rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x female reader #top gun fanfiction #bradley bradshaw fanfiction

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thefiresofpompeii · 2 months

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i know this is like. minus fourth world problems + autism, and maybe other fandoms have similar issues — i’ve never gone too deep into fandom spaces before and regret doing so — but. why are doctor who fans such incurable haters. i started watching in november after the specials aired and although i’ve been severely critical of certain unfortunate writing choices (as is my right. episodes that suck are… bad) i couldn’t fathom hating an entire series, an entire doctor’s/companion’s run let alone an entire showrunner’s tenure. you mean you can’t stand any of it??

it almost feels like… whenever i come across a person that loves to talk about nine and ten and donna and how much they loved wild blue yonder or w/e, they end up being a shallow moffat hater harping on about misogyny and one-dimensional women as if later series didn’t exist. whenever i find a fellow twelveclara understander who posts about missy and defends hell bent etc. suddenly i come across a post about how they hate rose? what could possibly compel you to dislike the character of rose tyler? i say this as somebody that isn’t a huge fan of tentoo. for more batshit examples saw a post along the lines of “don’t say you think tenmartha is interesting and then post about timepetals” like these are Characters bro. they’re not going to get sad. they are vehicles for the story they’re not people. tenrose was the carrier of the narrative in s2 and tenmartha in s3 and saying i enjoy the complexity of both of these relationships as they progress isn’t contradictory because that’s… the direction that the story takes????????

i don’t even hate chibnall era. even s11 has some redeemable bangers. what i mean is i fell in love with the show as a WHOLE . which means EVERY part of it is important to me and i don’t discount it. every next development builds on the previous. the timeless child ruined a lot of things but opened up many new avenues for exploration! i like the flux i like thasmin i like dhawan master i like the fugitive doctor i love dan and karvanista

you are all allergic to fun. sorry for getting mad about people getting mad it will (not) happen again. im going to go touch grass now

#jamie.txt #dw #doctor who #not adding any more tags this post is not a discourse starter in fact it’s the opposite of that

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suddencolds · 8 months

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Fool Me Twice [5/?]

Hello, remember this series? This chapter took me like six months to write. It was very embarrassing opening up the google doc again to see that the last edit was in April (back when I rewrote this chapter from scratch five times over before giving up entirely.) Anyways, I need to post it before I lose my nerve. 😭

Part 5 ft. fake dating, a cold, and an intervention

You can read part 1 [here]! (No context is needed aside from the previous 4 parts).

—

The drive to Good Day Diner is uneventful. Francesca recommended it to him awhile back, when they were both still in college, and he’s been trying to puzzle out their recipes ever since. Though, even with the ones where he’s come close, he rarely has the time to make them properly, in between work and everything else, so he’s been back here a few times since then.

Yves picks up two pint-sized containers worth of soup—chicken farro and miso with ginger—and strikes up a conversation with the cashier while he waits.

“This isn’t your usual order,” she says.

“Yeah,” Yves says. “It’s for a friend.”

“They’re a fan of miso?” Yves considers this. They’ve gone to more than a couple work outings together, and though Yves hasn’t paid particularly close attention to what everyone else has ordered, he thinks he remembers Vincent getting miso salmon on one occasion, a few weeks back. “I’m not sure,” he says. “I hope so.”

“Your friend didn’t tell you their order?”

“He doesn’t know I’m getting dinner for him. I just happened to be passing by, so I thought I might as well.” That part’s not entirely true—the restaurant is a twenty minute drive from the office, and it’s not really on the way home, either.

“So it’s a surprise,” the girl says, leaning back with a smile that looks a little too knowing for Yves’s liking. Whatever she thinks she’s figured out, he’s sure she has the wrong idea. “That’s awfully nice of you.”

“It’s not like that,” Yves says. “We aren’t that close. I’m not even sure if he’ll be happy to see me.”

“Why’s that?”

“He’s done a lot for me, and I think—” I think I might’ve repaid him in the most ungrateful way possible, his mind supplies unhelpfully. “I think all I’ve done, in return, is cause him trouble.”

The girl finishes ladling soup into the containers and reaches over the counter for two caps. “Usually when people do a lot for you, that means they like you.”

“Or it means they’re just really nice,” Yves says. “I think that’s closer to it.”

“So you’re getting him soup because you feel indebted to him?” She sets the soup containers carefully into a brown paper bag, slips in two plastic sleeves worth of utensils, then slides it towards him.

“Something like that,” Yves says, taking the bag from her. “Thanks, I’ll let you know how it goes the next time I’m back. Have a good one!”

“You too,” she says. “I hope your friend appreciates it.”

It’s not as nice as treating Vincent to dinner, but maybe what Vincent needs right now is convenience, not luxury. if he’s already made up his mind about working late, then at least he can work late with dinner on the side. Yves doesn’t even have to talk to him, really. He can just leave the soup on Vincent’s desk with a note, as unobtrusively as possible, and then take his leave again.

The drive back is shorter than expected. Yves turns on the radio, if only to not be left with just his thoughts, and listens to the newscaster talk about traffic, and the weather, and a local festival that’s going to be held on friday. When he puts the car into park and pulls the keys out from the ignition, the silence that follows is not reassuring in the least.

He pockets his keys and heads up the stairs, into the office building, and takes the elevator up to the fifth floor. The office is well-lit, even this late at night—it gives the impression of it being perpetually daytime, even though the clock on the wall says otherwise.

He takes a post-it note off of Cara’s desk, scrawls on: Figured you wouldn’t have time to get dinner, so I got you soup, and signs it: -Y. He sticks the note onto the paper bag, regards it for a moment, and then—after reconsidering—staples it on, just in case.

Then he heads off—past rows and rows of desks, around the corner and through the hallway, past the break room, to stop at the doorway which overlooks the room where Vincent sits.

Vincent is still at his desk, paging through documents with one hand, scrolling through what looks to be a long list of email correspondences with the other. From this distance, it’s hard to tell that anything is off, except—

He looks exhausted. It’s subtle, but once Yves notices it, he can’t stop noticing it. It’s present in the way Vincent holds himself, as if the wiry frame of the office chair is the only thing keeping him properly upright. It’s in the way he blinks hard at his monitor, his eyebrows furrowed slightly, as if he’s been staring at it for hours.

There’s a mug of what looks to be black coffee on his desk, half empty but still steaming, which seems to imply that he plans on staying much later. Yves clears his throat.

“Still working hard?” he says.

Vincent’s gaze snaps up to where Yves is standing. “Yves,” he says. “I thought you left.”

“I did.”

“Did you forget something here?” Vincent dog-ears the page he’s flipped to, then sets the stack of papers off to the side. “I can help you look.”

“No,” Yves says. “Well, not exactly. I know you said you didn’t want to be bothered. I promise I’ll be out of here soon.”

“Okay,” Vincent says, expectantly.

“Have you eaten?”

“I ate,” Vincent says. The relief Yves feels, at that statement, is unfortunately short-lasted. “Lunch. A few hours ago.”

“Lunch was eight hours ago.”

“I’ll eat tomorrow.”

“Will you catch up on sleep tomorrow too?”

“If I manage to finish this by then,” Vincent says, “Then yes.”

Yves stares at him. Does Vincent really, truly think there’s nothing wrong with any of this? With whatever sleepless, miserable late-night work session he’s already seemingly resigned himself to? “So what? You’re going to crash on the couch here?”

“I’ll head home around 4,” Vincent says.

4am. “And what? Lay down for fifteen minutes?”

“Three hours, maybe,” Vincent says, turning aside to muffle a cough into his elbow. “I don’t live that far.”

He says all of this in earnest, as though none of it strikes him as even the slightest bit unreasonable. Yves can’t help it—he doesn’t think he could hide the incredulity in his voice even if he tried. “You have to be kidding me.”

Finally, Vincent’s face shifts to show—something. Something other than the utter blankness from before, something past the civil, perfectly drawn business facade. Yves doesn’t have to look for very long to register it as frustration. “What part of my answer was unclear?”

“None of it is unclear,” Yves says. “It’s just… exceptionally unreasonable.”

“By some arbitrary metric of yours, sure.”

“Ask anyone else at the office and they’d agree with me.”

“What you—or anyone else at the office—think about my sleep schedule doesn’t concern me.”

“Let me help,” Yves says. “Please. We’ll get it done twice as fast if I help. Or if you really don’t trust me, hand it off to someone you do trust.”

“There’s no need. It’s my work to get done.”

“You should be at home right now, not working overtime on your first day back,” Yves says. He looks over all of it, now—over the desktop computer and the monitor, the charts and graphs laid out on screen, the piles of paperwork currently occupying Vincent’s desk. There’s a pang in his chest that he hadn’t quite accounted for. “It can’t be pleasant doing all of this with a headache.”

Vincent blinks at him. “What headache?”

“The one you’ve had since before I left.” Vincent can attempt to deny it if he wants. But between Leon, Yves’s younger brother, and Victoire, his younger sister—who’ve caught their fair share of colds throughout the years, between the other members of the crew team he’d spent his 6ams with—who he’s seen frequently tired and occasionally under the weather—Yves thinks he’s well equipped to recognize a headache.

And Vincent looks as put-together as always, for the most part—he looks like he could’ve just walked out of a photoshoot for some classy magazine, his hair neat, his tie done neatly, his suit jacket criminally well-fitted to his shoulders. But Yves doesn’t miss the stiff set of his jaw and the tension strung through his posture, the way he tilts his head ever-so-slightly away from the bright overhead lights as if it hurts to look at them, the way he rubs his eyes or pinches the bridge of his nose, always subtle enough to go unnoticed. The way he holds himself, now, as if it’s taking all of his energy to appear so presentable.

“I don’t,” Vincent starts. “I haven’t—”

“I can tell, you know,” Yves says, a little dejectedly. “I’m pretty sure it’s my fault you have one, anyways.”

Vincent frowns. “Talking to you hasn’t given me a headache.”

“Not that,” Yves says. “But I’d imagine that spending all of New Year’s Eve next to me when I was under the weather might have.”

Yves watches the surprise flicker across Vincent’s face.

“So that’s what this is about?” Vincent says slowly, his eyebrows furrowing. He looks—confused, now, taken aback by Yves’s admission—and then a little sad. “You’re just here because you feel guilty.”

“I do feel guilty,” Yves agrees—that much is true. “But that’s not why I’m here.” he feels hopeless, suddenly, attempting to explain himself to someone who would probably have preferred it if he never bothered. Perhaps he shouldn’t have come. Perhaps it was presumptuous to think that he could help in the first place. “I realize now that I can’t change your mind on any of this. But even if you plan to stay here all night, I— I just thought maybe I could—”

He’s interrupted with a harsh, “hhHh’NGk-t!” which jerks Vincent forward in his seat. Then a soft, wet sniffle, and then another— “Excuse m—Hhh’GKT!”, neatly pinched off into his hands. Vincent’s eyes flutter shut as he cups both his hands over his mouth, his eyebrows drawing together as his shoulders tremble with an inhale: “hih… hiIIh… hI’GKSCHHuuh-! Snf-! hH… HEh’DZSSChhUH!”

It’s immediately followed up with a few harsh, grating coughs which leave Vincent hunched over slightly, his glasses slightly askew, his hands still cupped to his face.

“Bless you,” Yves says, a little stunned.

Vincent doesn’t say anything to that—he just reaches across the desk for a tissue and blows his nose quietly into it, before he discards the tissue into a small metal trash can under the desk. The tips of his ears look a little red.

His throat probably hurts too, Yves realizes, with a jolt. Yves really shouldn’t be prolonging this conversation if he can help it.

“I, uh, brought soup,” he says awkwardly. The paper bag crinkles slightly as he lifts it. “Just so you wouldn’t have to skip dinner entirely. That’s why I was gone earlier. I initially meant to just drop it off here, not—” he clears his throat. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to argue with you.”

Vincent is quiet for a moment longer. Then he says, “You didn’t have to do that.”

“What? Bring you dinner?

“You didn’t have to come back at all.”

“I know that,” Yves says. “But I wanted to.”

Vincent takes the bag from him, lifts the post-it note so he can read the few lines Yves has scrawled onto it. He turns aside to muffle a few coughs into his sleeve. “This must have been a lot of trouble.”

“Not more trouble than attending a New Year’s party on someone else’s behalf, that’s for sure,” Yves says. It’s a wonder that Vincent agreed to that arrangement in the first place—Yves doesn’t know how he’ll even begin to make it up to him. “If we’re keeping count, I still owe you.”

Vincent regards him for a moment, his expression unreadable. “I never thought that you owed me.”

“Okay,” Yves says. “Then I’m doing this on my own accord.”

“What do you possibly have to gain from that?”

Is it not obvious enough? Yves sighs. “Nothing. I care about you.”

Carefully, slowly, Vincent opens the bag, shifts his documents over to the other side of the desk, and takes out the two containers of soup. Yves regards them closely—hopefully they’ve still retained most of their warmth, even after the drive here.

“I’m not sure if they’ll be to your taste,” he says, a little sheepishly. “If you tell me what you like, next time I’ll try to keep it in mind.”

“I’m not picky,” Vincent says. He rummages through the paper bag for a spoon. “I think I’d like both of these. Have you eaten already?”

“Not yet,” Yves says. Perhaps he should’ve picked up dinner for himself at Good Day, too—he’d been so preoccupied with getting something for Vincent that he’d forgotten. Either way, it’s inconsequential. There’s probably enough in the fridge to last a day or two before his next grocery run.

“You also got dinner for yourself, right?”

Yves must hesitate for a moment too long.

“That’s a little hypocritical,” Vincent says. “Do you want to pull up a chair?”

“What?”

“You haven’t eaten. You brought two soups.”

“They were both supposed to be for you.”

“You’re already here.” Vincent says. He shuts his laptop and leaves it off to the side, clears a space on the table, and sets the chicken farro soup in front of Yves. As if it really is that simple.

Yves stares down at it, a little perplexed. I thought you didn’t want to speak to me, he wants to say.

“Unless you’d just prefer to take this home,” Vincent says, misinterpreting his silence as hesitation.

“No,” Yves says. “You’re right. I’ll pull up a chair.”

—

Yves ends up dragging over a chair from one of the tables nearby—he makes a mental note to put it back before they leave. Vincent shuts his laptop and leaves it off to the side.

“Now we’re both staying past nine,” Vincent says.

“Yes,” Yves says. “I’ve always wanted to see what this place turns into at night.”

“Does it live up to your expectations?” “It’s a bit of a ghost town,” Yves says. “But not in a bad way. Feels like I could take all the snacks out of the break room and no one would bat an eye.”

“That’s the real reason why I’m here right now,” Vincent says, so deadpan that it barely sounds like a joke. Yves laughs.

Something about this scene—about sitting with Vincent, here, having dinner on the only corner of his office desk that isn’t occupied by documents—feels a little nostalgic.

“This is just like when I first joined,” he says. “When you were helping me with all the onboarding stuff.”

Back when he first joined, Vincent’s desk was a frequent destination. It’s not that Vincent is particularly friendly—it’s more just that Vincent is really, really good. He has expertise in things that he’s only done once in his life, and he can spot mistakes at a glance. He’s patient, too, even though Yves thinks that if the roles had been reversed, anyone teaching Vincent anything would never have to exercise any patience at all.

He can’t blame Angelie for looking to Vincent for help, either. It wasn’t that long ago that Yves was the one hovering at his desk, watching Vincent go through relevant work over his shoulder.

“The first couple weeks are - snf-! - always difficult,” Vincent says. “But you picked things up quickly.”

“I can’t imagine you as a beginner at anything,” Yves muses.

“Everyone’s - snf -! - a beginner at s-some— hH-! Just a second—” Vincent turns his head away sharply, burying his nose into his shoulder before— “hh’GKt-! Hh… Hhh’IIZSCchuhH! snf-! Hh-! hhih… HiH’GKT-!... Hh… hHih… hIH’IKTSHhh’uuh!”

“Bless you,” Yves says reflexively.

“Thank you,” Vincent says, with a small cough, which he muffles into his sleeve. He sighs. His voice has held up pretty well, but Yves can hear the muted edge of congestion in his voice, softening his consonants. “What was that you said to me? ‘You’ll get tired of that phrase really quickly?’”

“I won’t if you get over this cold soon,” Yves says. “Maybe that’s the real reason why I brought soup.”

“So that’s why you’re being suspiciously nice to me,” Vincent says, with a laugh. “I’m relieved to know you’ve had ulterior motives all along.”

Everything gets easier, after that. Vincent seems to enjoy the soup, for the way his eyes widen, almost imperceptibly, after he takes his first bite. (“So I was right to think you’d like miso,” Yves says, and Vincent laughs and says, “Am I really that predictable?”) When Yves offers again to help, after dinner, Vincent wordlessly hands him a small stack of business proposals. It’s not much, but just the fact that he’s agreeing to let Yves help is already a step in the right direction—give Yves an inch, and he’ll take a mile.

Yves looks through all of the documents he’s handed, scrawling notes in the margins, and then goes through another third of the stack of unreviewed paper on Vincent’s desk, while Vincent scrolls through pages of spreadsheets, processing data and creating new graphs. Vincent is almost frighteningly efficient, even when he’s not feeling his best—they lapse into a comfortable silence, interrupted only by the occasional, near-inaudible hitch in Vincent’s breath, always followed by a wrenching sneeze, or two.

There’s the coughing, too—always muffled tightly into his sleeve, after Vincent turns to face away from him, which must be exhausting. Yves doesn’t know why he bothers. It’s not as though he can catch this cold again.

(“Bless you,” Yves says, after the tenth-or-so sneeze, trying not to let the concern creep into his voice. “I think the pharmacy near 59th is still open. If you want, I can stop by and grab you something for your symptoms.”

“No need,” Vincent says. “If it - hh-! - gets bad enough, I’ll — Hhh-!”

“Bless you again—”

“hihH’IZSCHhhuh! - snf-! - I’ll get something myself.”

Yves wonders what his metric for bad enough is. Then again, it’s probably better not to press.)

It’s nearly eleven before Yves decides to head home at last.

“I can’t thank you enough,” Vincent says, with a rueful sniffle. “You must be tired.” “Not really,” Yves says. “I usually sleep pretty late. If you’re still feeling this bad tomorrow, take the day off.”

“I’ll think about it,” Vincent says.

Yves sighs. “At the very least, promise me you’ll head home sooner rather than later?”

“No promises,” Vincent says—though at the disapproving look Yves gives him, he amends, “But I’ll try.”

He sounds like he means it, at the very least. Yves supposes he’ll take what he can get.

[ Part 6 ]

#snz fic #sneeze fic #sneeze kink #snz kink #snz #i cannot decide if i want to write another chapter of this where vincent gets even worse or if #i should advance their story in the plot sense #i do like these two and want to write more of them in the future if people are still interested in reading more of them :')#my fic #yvverse

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bearhugsandshrugs · 5 months

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Bearhugs Updates for December

Hey all, I’ve been getting quite a few followers on here lately (hiiii), plus I have an inbox backlog and several WIPs; so I thought I’d share some updates about what to expect over the next weeks.

Requests & Asks

I am still working on filling drabbles (closed for now) and headcanon requests. If you haven’t seen your message having been replied to, it’s because I’m still working on it! Some come easier to me than others, which is why I might change ask order sometimes. Be patient with me please.

Anyway I wanted to take a moment to thank you all for sending in your asks and comments. I appreciate you all so much! Every time I get a message I’m doing a happy dance 🥰

Give Away

I’ll do one, and it should go up some time this week. Keep an eye out!

Til Death Do Us Part

My running Gortash x Tav series is nearing its conclusion. I expect it to run until the end of the year, maybe January. Yes, I know.

Keeping Score

My running Raphael x Tav series is fighting me with my ambitious plot and world building. Turns out sketching out an entire AU plot with introducing OC and DnD lore characters and places is difficult? Who would have thought? Not my naive ass lmao

But anyway that’s the reason it’s updating slower than the Gortash series.

Mutually Assured Destruction

The new enemies to lovers slow burn for Gortash x Tav. I will put it up on Tumblr too soon as it’s only two chapters so far (brand new)!

Drabble Series, Fic posts etc

I will put all my drabbles into a series on AO3 and my fics from AO3 on here. Especially Folie à Deux, who several people have cited as their gateway drug to Raphael (haha) hasn’t been posted on here yet so I will do that for its three month anniversary.

There are more WIPs I’m hoping to get to once work slows down too! Mostly smut.

So you’ll see some housekeeping and posts of fics you might already know. If you enjoyed them please share and like them! It feeds me emotionally and I’m not even kidding.

Okay that’s it. Thank you all 🩷

#my writing #bg3 fanfiction #bearhugsandshrugs updates #enver gortash #bg3 raphael #gortash x tav #raphael x tav

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gracie-rosee · 18 days

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Thoughts from an Elriel at heart who loves all ships and characters.

I’ve gained a bunch of new followers lately so… idk. Hi? This is the only post I will make about this btw. The only time I will share my thoughts on ships and the state of the fandom. My blog is a pro-positivity blog! So step into my mind for a brief minute before I bury this post on my blog and eventually delete it lol. I don’t tolerate negativity or bullying on my page at all. It’s an Instablock.

TL;DR: I love my elriel forever and forever. But all ships are hot regardless of canon and I don’t think it’s cool to police people around in fandom when we are all just here to have a good time. My blog is a place for everyone.

If this post isn’t to your liking in any way, keep scrolling and have a great day!

Okay it’s honesty hour. I genuinely think Elucien and Gwynriel could happen. Now listen.

I think that given enough time, their relationships could turn into true, deep romances.

But as of right now, where the series is at, there is no room for time. Koschei has been teased for like three books now and has made an actual appearance in the last book. He’s definitely going to be the villain that is fought in the next book (or two.) Plot wise, I don’t think there will be a big waiting period, meaning the next book will pick up almost right away. And considering it’s a romance book mainly, the actual romance has to start then too! Right away!

And I think Elain and Azriel are the only ones who have that build up to convincingly lead a romance book together.

So yes. I think Gwynriel has the potential to be a great couple. I think Elucien would be amazing.

Just not in this universe. Not right now.

Which is fine. I know, I just know the part of my heart that roots for these couples would be crushed by the story they would have if they were rushed and crammed into the next book. I’m already really wary of SJMs writing from the way she handled acosf and her re-write of Hofas. I don’t trust her with these ships to be honest. I think no one can write gwynriel and Elucien better than the incredible INCREDIBLE fanfic writers we have in this fandom. (I love you guys!)

I think in the canon world, they need more development. I need to see Elucien form a bond not influenced by their mating one first! I need to see Gwyn and Azriel’s healing on their own before they get together.

But Elain and Azriel? They have a story that’s already rolling. It’s been building since the moment they met, before Elain met Lucien and before Azriel started training with Gwyn.

So unless SJM kills one of them off, Elriel will own my head, heart, body, soul, and entire conscience LOL. 😂

But alas, Sarah is a very emotional writer. And I cannot NOT fall in love with almost every character she gives us. Years from now, one of these couples will be canon and I’ll still be reading fic and drawing for the others.

And isn’t that the point? It makes me sad that this fandom has developed the mindset that you’re not allowed to like multiple things. That there is a right and a wrong. That you have to pick sides.

Where are the people who love these books as a whole, not just those who are here for one couple that’s up in the air? Maybe I’m just old, but normally fandom is a place where everyone comes together for the love of all of it, not the hatred of part of it. 🤷‍♀️

#acotar #just one tag #because im hoping this reaches the casual/first time readers brave enough to venture into the acotar tag on tumblr dot com in this age #my blog is first and foremost a safe space for EVERYONE #all ships #all people #all fans are welcome here #I sincerely swear I will never bash anyone’s opinions regardless of my own #that’s low behavior #I love all of you guys here #talk to me about anything #my dms are always open

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welcometojackass2022 · 2 years

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What A Jackass Girl Would Be Like (Except She’s as Mean and Gross as the Guys Are)

@gocryaboutitt Sorry for the wait! I’ve formatted this so that it’s a series of little stories/scenarios of different stunts the girl would participate in and what her relationship would be like with the guys. I hope that works for you!

I have a name for the character, but I didn’t want to use it here cuz my account is mainly for reader inserts, so she’s referred to as the female jackass. Also, Crash is a camerawoman character that my friend and I made up, so she gets a couple mentions here.

Based off of this post I made about a female jackass member who’s as nasty and gross and mean and tough as the guys are: https://welcometojackass2022.tumblr.com/post/691606782874976256/dont-get-me-wrong-im-absolutely-obsessed-with

The Terror Taxi Stunt (Before the Reveal):

When it came time for the boys to collect pubic hair to use for Ehren’s beard, the female jackass was the first person to volunteer. She pulled her ratty gym shorts down just enough to expose her pubic hair to the camera, grinning as the rest of the crew roared with laughter. “Gimme the fucking razor, I can handle the hack job on my own.” Bam dutifully handed her the razor and held the collection bowl directly under her crotch. “You wouldn’t happen to have crabs or anything, would you?” She laughed. “Nah, but I’ll tell Ehren I do after he finds out what the beard’s made from.” Bam went to peek inside her gym shorts. “Are you hiding an entire jungle in there? Jesus fucking Christ, the bowl’s nearly full already.” She elbowed him in the gut and snatched the bowl. “Fuck off, Margera, you’ve got a bush too.”

The Terror Taxi Stunt (After the Reveal):

Ehren had finally been told that the hair glued to his face was real pubic hair, and as he tore it off in chunks and tried not to gag, the female jackass leaned over and tapped him on the shoulder. “Oh, by the way, I’m 99% certain that I have crabs, so good luck explaining that at your next doctor’s appointment.” Ehren ran off to the grass as if he was about to throw up, and the rest of the crew lost it, with Bam rolling around on the ground in a fit of laughter. With Ehren out of earshot, the cameraman panned to the female jackass and lowered his voice. “When are you gonna tell him you don’t actually have crabs?” She grinned. “Never. I’m sure he’ll find out on his own.”

The Boys Fucking With Her Hair:

One of the unspoken rules of the jackass crew was to never fall asleep at work, because by doing so you were inviting the rest of the cast to prank you while you slept. Unfortunately, the female jackass totally forgot this on one occasion during the filming of the first jackass movie. Bam and Ryan Dunn walked into one of the backrooms and found her passed out on the couch, and they immediately decided to fuck with her. They brought in a cameraman and the rest of the jackass cast to watch, and then Bam took a lighter and used it to singe the ends of her long, greasy hair. The smell of burning hair somehow wasn’t enough to wake her up, so Ryan took it a step further and got a pair of scissors, grabbing a massive chunk of her hair and chopping it off. When the female jackass woke up and saw him standing over her with a third of her hair in his fist, she immediately got up, chased him through the building, tackled him to the ground, and shoved the entire chunk of hair down his throat. Any normal person would have cut some hair off the other side to make it even or even shaved off the whole thing just to start over, but the female jackass isn’t normal, and so she kept her hair exactly as it was for the rest of filming, to the point where it became her signature hairstyle.

Filming Dangerous Stunts With the Crew:

From the moment the female jackass member joined the crew, she’s been welcomed with open arms for one simple fact: she’s down for literally anything. Jumping off a three story building into a pile of trash cans? She’d say yes without hesitation. Being dropped into a pit full of poisonous snakes? Sure, just give her a thick pair of shoes and she’s good to go. She’s fearless as hell and will gladly volunteer to do stunts that the rest of the crew refuse to do. When the rest of the crew didn’t want to do a stunt that involved being shot at with a BB gun from only ten feet away, she immediately stepped up. When no one else wanted to slide down the roof of a four story building stark naked into a freezing cold pool in the middle of December, she eagerly took the opportunity and pulled it off flawlessly. She’s proven time and time again that she’s not a pussy, and the crew never doubts her for even a second. If anyone even suggested that she was too weak for a certain stunt, the rest of the crew would laugh their ass off and call them an idiot. She’s also been known to agree to extremely stupid stunts, like letting some of the cameramen (usually Crash) tattoo dicks on her arm while the two of them ride rollercoasters.

Being Gross as Hell with the Rest of the Crew:

If there’s one thing that’s certain, it’s that the crew couldn’t give a shit less that she’s a girl. The boys are all just as rough and disgusting with her as they are with each other; they’ve farted in her face, thrown animal shit at her during stunts, vomited all over her, shoved her face into their sweaty armpits, body slammed her into walls, and pranked her with electricity and rat traps just as much as anyone else, and she’s done the same to all of them. Her hygiene is about as good as the rest of theirs is (meaning not very good at all), so it’s not like any members of the crew like it when she shoves their face into her armpits or sticks her ass in their face when they’re unable to move. She’s been a part of the team so long that they’ve essentially forgotten that she’s physically different from the rest of them, and they have to be careful with bullying her in public because there’s been a couple of instances where they’ve pulled a mean prank on her or done something gross to her in public and had a random member of the public get onto them for “abusing” her. Someone could probably make a twenty minute compilation of footage of all the times she’s pulled her gym shorts down and stuck her sweaty ass in Bam’s face while he was distracted. One of her favorite things to do is blow her nose into a tissue and then open the tissue and rub it all over someone’s face. She also likes lighting her farts on fire, and has done it multiple times with one of the cameramen, Crash.

Addressing the Relationship Questions:

The Jackass crew were interviewed for their upcoming movie, and one of the first questions asked was directed at the female jackass member. “Are you dating any of the cast?” All of the crew, her included, reacted with total disgust. “These guys have seen me do some absolutely disgusting things, and I’ve seen them do even more disgusting things, and when you see stuff like that, it’s impossible to think of them in a romantic way. How am I supposed to kiss Dave when I’ve seen him eat horse shit? How do I fuck Bam when we’ve farted in each other’s faces? How do I even think about dating Steve-O when he’s thrown up on me every day since I started working with him? These guys are my best friends, but I could never be anything more than that with any of them.” The rest of the guys agreed, and the subject was quickly changed.

The Topic of Vagina Stunts:

Half of the stunts done by the crew involve their dicks, so when the female jackass member joined the crew, it only makes sense that she wanted to do some vagina-related stunts. She directly asked Johnny to let her do something involving her getting hit in the crotch with a baseball, but while Johnny and the crew were all for it, some of the higher ups flatly refused; for one reason or another, they didn’t think it was appropriate to show a woman being hit in the crotch on TV. But her and the boys were determined to make it happen, so for the second jackass film, they filmed several stunts of her getting hit in the crotch and then, after lots of begging, finally managed to convince the executives to let them put the footage on the 2.5 film. Johnny once said he’d never seen a woman be so eager to get hit in the crotch with heavy objects before.

Being Absolutely Stupid Like the Rest of the Cast:

Usually when there’s only one female member of a group, she’s the “voice of reason” and the smart one. That’s not the case here. The female Jackass member is just as stupid and juvenile as the rest of the cast. In a stunt that involved having to answer questions at a fourth grade level, she got every single question wrong, even the ones about simple math. When one of the crew members would come up with a stupid suggestion, like lighting up fireworks in the house, she’d always be the first to agree. She doesn’t have a single bit of common sense; her brain wants excitement and adrenaline, and that’s what she looks for. She’ll go along with any stupid idea if she thinks it’ll be funny or exciting, so if you want to speak to someone reasonable, don’t come to her. She laughs just as hard at fart jokes as she does at actual punchlines, and she’s an avid user of fart putty and whoopie cushions.

#jackass imagine #jackass x reader #jackass #johnny knoxville #bam margera #steve o #chris pontius #danger ehren #dave england #preston lacy #wee man #imagine #fanfiction #headcanon

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flfverse · 6 months

Note

Oh gosh, ok first things first, the obligatory (but still very genuine) please take care of yourself— no fanfiction is worth killing yourself over (no matter how much you or we love it.) At the same time, wildly excited that you’re still working on Free Falling regardless of everything happening in your life — I love it so much. Tbh, I’ll take any part of FLFverse in any form.

Since you said you were looking for asks, I have a couple of questions stacked up as I’ve been reading and rereading all your fics — no pressure to answer ofc, and idk if some of these answers contain spoilers or things you want to keep secret at the moment, but here we go.

Ok so history of subs in the hero world: in one of your BakuDeku fics, they watch this All Might series and you mention this female sub who was the first hero sub, but that there was just generally stupidity by society and the hero world that relegated her to sidekick hood (and then I think she left actually doing the heroics to manage her own agency? Forgive my memory. It’s been a minute since I’ve read it and I too am drowning in college.)

At the same time, however, from both Hawks and Deku’s POVs, there seems to be not any subs at all in the hero world when they’re heroes/training to be heroes. And forgive me if I’m wrong, but I sense from some of the BKDK fics, Deku is kinda seen as one of the first out sub heroes? Obviously there’s a huge gap in the middle between where Free Falling is right now and where the BKDK fics pick up that you probably can’t answer, but is it just like, an open secret in the hero world that Hawks is a sub? Is he one of several that can get by as long as they don’t openly admit it? Have there been hero subs before Hawks, or is her the first high profile heros who’s a sub, regardless of who knows? Have there been other high profile sub heros before Hawks and Deku? I don’t even know how much of that you can answer, but I’m just too obsessed with your world building and fictional history to not ask.

Ok so the next thing I have to ask, and I’m also guessing it’s a thing you can’t answer bc as an obsessive writer/reader of fiction, this is what I would center a plot point on (which, no judgement if you aren’t going to, I’m just obsessively theorizing in my free time): what are the legal ramifications of contracts? Hawk’s specifically. I remember that you posted a lot about contract’s legality, and a lot of Hawk’s seems to be in the illegal zone, ie, he signed it when he was underaged. Again, my memory is failing me, so I can’t remember if things like, there’s no dom specified or that there’s no end date specified could nullify the contract either. But then there’s the thing about permanent contracts. Is this like catholic marriage? Like, you can’t get it dissolved ever, unless under incredibly specific circumstances? Or do illegalities trump permanence? Is permanence itself even legal? But if it isn’t, why is everyone so afraid of that? (Personally, Im sensing Legal and Court Drama in the future, and if that’s the case, please know that I will literally lose my mind in anticipation.)

Anyways, those are things I’ve been stewing over. They might be too plot heavy for you to answer, idk, I’ve never done one of these before. But despite my absolute love of this entire world (but especially Free Falling), or rather, because of it, please take your time and prioritize your mental health! I think everyone who reads this series and loves it a lot would prefer it be a thing that’s made the way you want it to be in a way that’s supportive to you, no matter how long it takes or when the updates come :)

🥺 you’re so sweet 💖 and thank you for the ask!

SO, history of submissive heroes. basically that first hero sub (Morioka!) (she still needs a first name and a hero name shh) was doing it illegally/undercover, then once her secret got out she fought and won the right to keep being a hero so woo submissives can be heroes now.

[side note: i imagine that even she technically wasn’t The First, like when quirks were still new and heroes weren’t regulated, who was going to stop them? but it was still very rare bc of the general attitude around subs and it’s all very hush hush no one talks about that bit. it’s not like they were real heroes, after all 🙄]

so anyway, all that went down just ahead of aizawa’s generation, actually. his first year at UA was the first year the school started allowing submissives (not every hero school did right away, those requirements took a few years). as we know, aizawa and yamada are switches. you know who isn’t? oboro :3

i would like to write about that sometime. just. rahhh. that’s part of why aizawa is very pro-sub (the rest is, you know, basic human decency).

oh—i forgot about the fate of morioka up there. she was actually dropped by her agency for the scandal and did her best working with other heroes/on her own for a little while, but ultimately it got to be too much and she retired early to find a different career. unfortunately not the most feel-good story.

as for how many submissive heroes there are now, during Free Falling, i’d say there’s a handful. but like morioka, quite a few burn out or never really climb the ranks that much and fade into obscurity. on the face of it discrimination is Bad and Not Allowed, but toxic workplaces, y’know? i don’t think i’ve said it outright, but i’ve definitely alluded to ryukuu being a sub. she’s the highest ranking one known to the public and gets a ton of shit for it, but from what we see in canon she doesn’t seem to be too big on the spotlight anyway? i don’t see her as being very activism-minded, she’s just trying to do her job, not be the face of a movement, and probably avoids discussing it publicly just for the sake of her own sanity. valid.

hawks is technically going stealth as a switch. he just dodges the question if it’s brought up or says something vague. the fan conspiracy theories are probably wild (oh no, now i’m thinking about FLFverse rpf xreader fic), but among heroes it’s kind of a “don’t ask, don’t tell” thing—at least the ones that aren’t dicks.

hawks’s image is very carefully crafted by the commission and they do not want that part of him to become undeniable fact because it would damage his reputation. especially after everything he’s accomplished. the first hero to make top ten before he’s twenty is a submissive? uh, yeah, right. that would go over well.

beyond that, i think it’s pretty much just deku who’s high-profile. and kaminari and jirou to a lesser extent (and whoever else i’ve decided subs, there’s 20 of them leave me alone). their whole class is really famous for obvious reasons, so it’s kind of a given. i’d like to say that deku being, you know, who he is starts to change some minds, and he probably does, but not so much that it takes all the fun out of playing with the social hierarchy, right? ;D change can’t be that easy.

hm, gotta think about the second question. if there is to be Legal And Courtroom Drama, it would be in part 4, which is a huge amorphous blob in my brain right now. i know some legal stuff has to happen/change, but i’m not sure if i’ll focus on it or not yet. tucking that in my back pocket!

anyway. what i can say about that right now is that hawks’s contract is very illegal, but pretty much solely bc of the underage signing, especially given that it’s permanent. permanent contracts are like marriage licenses. they’re the only ones that have to be registered with the government in order to “count” and they are harder to get out of, but not quite catholic-marriage-level. and yes, illegalities would trump permanence.

the question is….do you trust the hero commission to be honest with either the government or hawks?

there’s also the whole deal that separate from the D/s contract, hawks still has his canon contract where the commission bought him from his mom. what’s up with that? time will tell.

there’s also other legal/ethical/etc issues going on which, of course, you all won’t know about until the end of part two. :) i can do ~intrigue~, i promise

#flfverse #free falling #d/s au #asked and answered #aossimusings #thank you again for the ask! i wrote the whole thing like the day you sent it but i had to look up morioka’s name lol and i was too lazy #and then i tweaked some things #but yeah yep yes #i’m glad you like the fics <3 #i actually tentatively had a breakthrough on my first-priority fic project #so if that keeps up and my motivation hangs around after so i can write free falling…..#fingers crossed and all that

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aralana765 · 10 months

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Updating my pinned post to show more of what I’ve written!

Sk8 the Infinity fics:

Sk8—Sunflower series: Reki knows he doesn't have the most confidence in himself. It's something he's been working on as he builds on his strengths and loves: skating and skateboards. But it never hurts to have a little backup as you build yourself up. Langa wants to build up a new skill to help his mom. Luckily, he knows someone knows how to cook and has the time to help.

Sk8 Sunflower—To Build a Mechanic: Joe knew Reki was smart, especially when it came to all things skating. But seeing those smarts put down on paper, seeing it come together in a cohesive board design, that was something entirely different. Something that deserved to be recognized.

Sk8 Sunflower—To Build a Programmer: Reki is finally finding his place at S. People come to him for his board designs. Langa and Miya are great friends. He can go to Joe and Shadow for help if he needs it. Maybe even Cherry if he's in a good mood. Yeah, he's doing alright. But Kaoru Sakurayashiki sees potential in Reki. Sees a way for him to flourish even more.

Sk8 Sunflower—To Build a Chef: A companion fic to To Build a Programmer. As Reki starts to find his footing building boards and learning programming from Kaoru, Langa decides to dive into a new interest. He approaches Joe about learning to cook as a gift for his mom, and establishes a mentor along the way.

Sk8 Sunflower—To Build a Bond: Reki had given Kaoru a unique opportunity for his birthday: a way to sync both of their AIs. Carla can't wait to reach out to her new friend. Takes place in To Build a Chef after chapter 9.

Sk8 Sunflower—To Build a Vacation…Maybe: Joe and Kaoru have left for Kaoru's birthday trip, leaving the boys behind, despite Reki's best pouts and clear arguments that he definitely deserves to go to the family reunion (he is their son, after all). Instead, he and Langa consider making a trip of their own.

Sk8 Sunflower—To Build a Trip Home: Kyan Hiroshi loves his family, but with his job he often has to love them from afar. But his son is confessing to his crush today, and he will find some time to support him, no matter what. Maybe some day he'll even get to meet the boy.

Sk8 Sunflower—To Build a Relationship: A side fic for Sunflower primarily focused on Joe and Cherry's relationship. Can absolutely be read independently. Chapters will mostly be disconnected scenes showing different aspects and times in their relationship.

Sk8 Sunflower—To Build a Tradition: Five years after Reki received his lip piercing from Kaoru, it’s his turn to give a piercing to the next generation. Miya just wishes his piercer would admit that they definitely share Kaoru and Joe as dads. Part of the Sunflower series. Featuring art by @Mediaraiz!

Sk8 Sunflower—To Build an Adult: It’s Kaoru’s birthday, and his pseudo-son has planned a day out for him. But it’s strange seeing Reki grown up, knowing that means he’s gotten old too. Though, not necessarily a bad strange. (Takes place ten years after the general Sunflower timeline)

Sk8—So The Stories Say series: Kojiro works as the right hand to the spymaster of Eden, known to most as Cherry Blossom, and separately as the Duke Kaoru Sakurayashiki. Kojiro has no love for the king, Adam, and wants to see him overthrown. Luckily, so does the spymaster. And, luckily, he always seems to be on everyone’s good side. (Fantasy au, spies, villainous/manipulative Kaoru. He’s a nasty piece of work. Fae magic)

Sk8 STSS—Actions and Words: Count Higa Hiromi, highest ranked general of the armies of Eden, is a man of action, not words. That’s not to say he wasn’t a smart man. And there was something…off about the Spymaster's new scribe. Not dangerous, maybe. But something…not quite…good.

Sk8 STSS—Uniquely Captivating: Kojiro was a lucky man. He came to the kingdom of Eden as a spy for the kingdom of Sole, and now he worked as Eden's spymaster's right hand man. He had access to Eden's every secret. But more than that, he had found a new purpose, something new to dedicate not just his life, but his everything to.

Sk8—The Right Mindset series: One night when Kaoru can't sleep and Joe is away, Carla recommends a new method of soothing her master: hypnosis. When Joe interrupts, the evening quickly redirects to something kinkier, and the men find something new to add to their bedroom activities.

Sk8 TRM—Only Left With Pleasant Thoughts Now: Carla fell silent for just a moment, letting Kaoru watch the bright pink light spin in smooth circles in the dark of the room. Then, her voice eased out of the shadows again, soft, and somehow different than before. “There is a reason people attribute things like spirals, circles, and pendulums to meditation and trance. Their movement is repetitive and predictable, and the mind finds comfort in that. It likes to know what is coming, and finds satisfaction, if not pleasure, in finding itself correct.”

Sk8 TRM—Write Your Gorgeous Mind Away: “So. Carla gives you the words. You write them to match. She’s also going to have some music to set the mood. Oh,” he added thoughtfully, tugging on Kaoru’s ponytail, “and you’ll have to really focus on your work, because I’ll be trying to distract you. You think you can handle all that, princess?” “Can I handle doing calligraphy with some music while you try to distract me? That’s my average Tuesday afternoon, Kojiro. I still don’t see how this is supposed to work.” He leaned his head back on Kojiro’s shoulder, but his expression was smug. “I think you’ll figure it out pretty quick. And if not, if it doesn’t work, I’ll try something else.” He hummed, then grinned. “I know, we can make it a challenge. See how long you can hold out before you drop." Kojiro and Kaoru have been introducing hypnokink into their lives since the night Kaoru resorted to having Carla try hypnosis out to help him sleep. Now, Kojiro has a new induction he wants to try out on his husband, even though Kaoru has his doubts on how effective it will be.

Sk8—Doubt Comes In and Meets a Stranger: To prevent Kojiro's family from causing an emotional scene at the airport, Kaoru offers to drive him when it comes time for him to go to Italy. But being left behind can be okay sometimes, so long as the one leaving will miss you too. Or, Kaoru really overthinks Eurydice's side of the story.

Sk8—New Precedent: Kojiro returns from Italy thrilled to be with his family and Kaoru again. He's also extremely ready to hit up Crazy Rock, even if Kaoru doesn't go to S anymore. But there's a new skater running the show, one who hides their face, that Kojiro gets on with like a house on fire. Or, Kojiro is an idiot and falls for the same boy twice.

My Hero Academia fics:

Mha—Hanging By a Thread series: Best Jeanist should be dead. He should have been killed a few times over. But he’s still kicking, and he’s going to make it everyone’s problem.

Mha HBaT—Loose Threads: Hakamata Tsunagu should wake up in the Commission safehouse he's been recovering in since Kamino. That's where he should be. But instead, he wakes up, curled up and crammed into a duffel bag, drugged, and without the first clue of his surroundings. So much for the "safe" house.

#my writing #sk8 the infinity #sunflower sk8 fic #mha #my hero fanfic #sk8 fanfic #best jeanist #reki kyan #langa hasegawa #kojiro nanjo #kaoru sakurayashiki #fanfic

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roosterforme · 9 months

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hiya! i’ve been binging your fics for the past couple of days and i was flying through them so fast i forgot to like most of them, so i figured it was only fair to message you and say you are such a great writer! the way you build worlds around your oc’s is phenomenal. obviously i figure that the top gun characters are the main pull to your fics, but your oc’s are so fleshed out and so relatable that they’re the ones making me want to rush to the next chapter. i’m rooting for their happy ending as much as bradley’s or bob’s. ‘batting practice’ was the first story of yours i read and then ‘the younger kind’ and then ‘curveball’. then you posted a one shot with beer boy and sugar and i was like ‘who are these people?’ so i found ‘old habits die hard’ in your master list and blew through it so quickly. and i hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but i could see the confidence in your writing build throughout that series. i don’t know if you starting trusting the way the story was unfolding or you just started trusting yourself to write it, but it’s palpable. in an entirely good way, i promise!!!!! anyway, i just wanted to say thank you for sharing your stories with us. they’re absolutely wonderful. and i can’t wait to spend more of my lunch breaks blowing through as many chapters as i can ☺️ (p.s. if you don’t mind me blowing up your notifications, i will go back and like every chapter i didn’t, you just say the word!!!!!!!)

ANSLEY! Thank you so much for this ask, it really warmed my heart! I am SO HAPPY that you started with Batting Practice and then read more of my fics from there. I love that you could tell I started to feel better about Old Habits the more I got into it. That was the first series I started posting after my Roo&BG fics, and I was really nervous at first. And please, blow up my notifications all you want! I'm just so happy you're enjoying my masterlist! Thanks again!!

#if you ask emily

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cheeto-flavoured-pasta · 5 months

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For the Random WIP Ask Game:

11. 🌈 RAINBOW SLOTH: Wild card! Share one thing about your WIP that you have been waiting to be asked about!

And all of a sudden I’ve forgotten everything I’ve ever wanted to be asked…

Kidding (partially).

I initially wanted to post a whole paragraph about plot twist ideas/arcs for my WIP for this, but then again, I also wanna talk about APS fun facts, but then again again, the question is asking to share only one thing, so now I have to actually make a choice and commit. :P.

I think I’ll do the second option, so here are some random APS fun facts:

The very first version of APS was some novel I wrote 3 years ago that was set in Japan (I was a huge weeb at the time and it was so cringey) and the plot was wildly different and honestly so convoluted. I tried to take the premise of “superhumans discovered by government and go through dystopic hell” and “secret underground superhuman organization that basically fights off ‘bad guys’” and mush them together. Turns out, you can’t have two main premises at once (at least for me). One of them could have been a side-premise/subplot of sorts, but nooo. I had to mash them together and squeeze them into one book to the point where the plot switched from one plot idea to the next (ex: I set up the story as a “superhumans discovered by gov’t” plot and then completely flipped it on its head and forgot the other premise halfway through). It was a hot mess. A flaming mess. I deleted that book entirely and decided to change everything about it (except the title). That was a much better decision.

Caster was supposed to be the love interest of another random side character. Decided against it later because I don’t wanna center the story too much around romance. Caster’s also aroace and not interested in any kind of relationship, it wouldn’t really be fitting anyway. Idk, the idea just didn’t stick.

There was supposed to be a scene in chapter 6(?? Was it 6?) — the one where there’s a street brawl and someone chokes and dies — where Talia actually steps in to do something. All she manages to do is splash water in one of the perpetrator’s/instigator’s faces. I only wrote that because I thought it was funny, but I took it out later because it created a big character inconsistency

APS was supposed to be a book series with dual-POVs throughout (ex: Caster and Talia for the first book, Melissa and Cassian for the second, etc. etc.) I eventually scrapped that because the second POV either became useless to the book or it could have another whomp story all by itself without sharing the story with a perspective of another character.

At one point, I planned APS to be a 6-10 book series with so many fucking prequels and sequels and companion novels. I scratched that entirely because, seriously, it was so unnecessary to have that much for no good reason at all. The plot would be too stretched and convoluted if I kept it as a 6-10 book series, and after revamping the plot events, I realized I only needed three books to tell the whole story.

To build off the previous one: I do have a slight “spinoff” series of APS called APP (A Powerful Past). It’s more of just individual books covering pieces of backstory/lore in more detail, but that’s a side-series, so it’s pretty much it’s own thing. I’m only gonna work on it after APS is finished, so for now, the most I do to work on APP is to add to any thought dump pages.

#writeblr #writing community #writers of tumblr #ask answered #aps #writing ask game

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celestial-robots · 2 years

Text

Finding Equinox

A Sun & Moon X Reader Story

Chapter One: Dawn of a New Day

Word Count: 6363

Summary: You have a new job at the famous Fazbear Mega Pizzaplex! Surely this will be a normal retail job. Unfortunately, that notion is quickly disproved, as you find yourself severely underqualified for the position Fazbear put you in. But on the bright side, the sun-themed animatronic in the Daycare is nice.

Author’s Note: I’ve been talking about this fic for a while, now’s the time to post it. I’ve never written an X Reader fic before—heck, I’ve only used self-inserts a handful of times before. But I’ve been inspired by a lot of good fics I’ve seen centered around Sun and Moon, and I wanted to throw my had in the ring ^-^ This is going to be a longer series with a bit of a slow burn on the romance part. I mean, you gotta get to know the guys before you date them, right? I hope you all enjoy it, I’ve had a lot of fun writing this :D

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Freddy Fazbear’s Mega Pizzaplex. It sounded like something out of a children’s show. Some place where the characters would hang out in between going to school classes and fighting supervillains...or something. But no. It was a real place, a massive building that was a cross between a mall, a theme park, and a robotics lab.

It was also the site of your new job.

Honestly, you hadn’t expected them to actually look at your online application. Fazbear was notorious for using robots whenever possible, and you’d heard all about the Mega Pizzaplex’s STAFF bots. You weren’t really sure why they were hiring in the first place if the STAFF was oh-so amazing. But you needed a job to pay rent on your brand-new apartment, and your current one sucked. At least the Pizzaplex was willing to pay more than minimum wage. Surprisingly.

So, when they emailed you back with congratulations on getting the job, you snatched it up. Sure, it would mean commuting to the Pizzaplex outside of the city five days a week, but you liked driving. And you would be lying if you said you weren’t fascinated by working for the Fazbear Entertainment. The company that spawned a million ghost stories—not to mention multiple genuinely scary horror games. The legend appealed to you, as terrible as the rumors were.

Your first shift was on Monday, starting at 3pm. A decent enough time. It took a solid forty minutes to drive out to the Pizzaplex, though, and you weren’t sure if there’d be trouble getting in, so you left at 1:40. Luckily, the massive building—seriously, this was probably bigger than your college campus had been—had an employee parking lot nearby. You found a decent spot, then gathered your items for the day.

The email you’d gotten from Fazbear Entertainment said you were allowed to bring or wear whatever you wanted, as long as you acknowledged that Fazbear Entertainment wasn’t responsible for lost or damaged items. And you’d done your research on the Mega Pizzaplex shortly after getting the job. In accordance with your research, you put together a little Survival Pack:

Work uniform. It was really just a T-shirt with a logo on the front and back that read “Fazbear Entertainment Mega Pizzaplex Employee.”

Company-issued FazWatch. It had been sent to you in the mail along with the shirt, and looked a lot like some of the novelty toys that Fazbear sold. That wasn’t going to be confusing at all. But apparently it gave you security clearance.

Headphones. Connected to your phone via Bluetooth, so you could listen to music or a podcast while you worked, and hopefully drown out the sound of the large crowds that went in and out of the Pizzaplex each day.

Charger and portable battery. Headphones wouldn’t be much good if your phone died.

Sunglasses. Looking at the promotional pictures on the website, you knew that there would be bright light galore inside the building. And you would prefer to not have to stare at those for your entire shift. The pair you brought today were especially big, with round lenses that covered almost the entire upper half of your face.

Face mask. Just in case you needed to dull some strong smells or avoid breathing in any sort of particles.

Zip-up hoodie. Allowed the logo on the T-shirt to be seen. You hadn’t been sure if the Pizzaplex would be too warm or too cold, so you brought this just in case of the latter.

Backpack with packed lunch. Sure, the email said that food would be provided for you, but you’d been screwed over by messages like that before, so you brought something just in case.

With these powers combined, you gained the Ultimate Ability: Getting Customers to Leave You Alone Unless You Approached Them First.

Walking in through the front entrance was easy. The logo on your T-shirt allowed you to skip the massive lines. You strolled right in through the glass doors...and stopped short. Wow. This place was...really, really cool. And funnily enough, looked a lot like the pictures on the website. You’d been half-expecting some Expectations Vs. Reality shit, but no. On the surface at least, this place was incredible.

Also very, very loud, and very, very bright. You mentally patted yourself on the back for thinking of your Survival Pack. You glanced around, unsure where to go, before calling one of the elevators. The email said to go to the atrium when you arrived. So, one short elevator ride later, you stepped out onto the center balcony, overlooking the massive neon-lit expanse of the Pizzaplex.

“Hello New Employee.”

You jumped at the sound of a robotic voice behind you. Spinning around, you saw one of those patented STAFF bots: simple robots with painted-on facial features and wheels for feet. “We are glad to have you here as part of the Fazbear family,” the voice continued. “Take a map.” The bot held out a folded sheet of paper in one of its clamp-like hands.

“Uh...suuuure.” You took the offered map. Surprisingly, your FazWatch beeped. You glanced at it and saw a notification, telling you that a map of the Mega Pizzaplex had been added. “Huh.” You looked back at the map in your hands. Yep, it was paper, alright. How did it connect with the watch? Or did the bot do that?

“Your company-issued Freddy FazWatch will alert you to any tasks you have to complete on your shift,” the STAFF bot said. “All tasks must be completed before ending your workday. New tasks can and will be assigned at any point during your shift. These tasks may include janitorial services, transport of goods from storage using the utility tunnels, animatronic maintenance and repair—”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“—and upkeep of devices such as arcade cabinets, musical equipment, and any internal systems of the Mega Pizzaplex. Remember to smile, you are the face of Freddy Fazbear’s Mega Pizzaplex.”

“Wait a minute, what was that second-to-last one?” you asked. But it was too late. The STAFF bot had already rolled away, and was hounding the incoming customers to “take a map.” You almost pursued it, but decided against it. The bot probably wasn’t programmed to do anything more than give you that introduction and map.

Still...was that really it? You weren’t going to have any training or anything? Were you even going to meet your supervisor? Did you have a supervisor? You stand there, confused, for a good few minutes, looking down at the atrium and getting in the way of incoming families. Well...guess you would have to make do.

You shuffle off to the side, pass through a few doors, and somehow end up in a gift shop full of kids asking their parents for plushies. Another STAFF bot behind the counter seemed to be handling the transactions, thank god. You’d manned the register before in other jobs, and it always made you feel awkward. Well, nobody was looking for you, so you take a moment to pull out your phone and put on your most energetic music, cranking up the volume until only the loudest of children’s screams pierced the barrier of sound. Then, you decided to check out this FazWatch.

The interface was easy enough to figure out. You had a tab for tasks, a tab for the map, and a tab to remind you of your schedule. It seemed you had a fifteen-minute break scheduled for six o’clock. You could also clock in and out from this tab. Right now, it was 2:50, so you tapped the “Clock In” button. Nothing wrong with being early, right? There was also a gear icon in the bottom left for settings, and a lock icon in the bottom right that told you your security level. It was Level Four...which seemed a little high for what the job description was, but you weren’t going to complain.

Now. Onto the tasks. Cleaning the glass in Rockstar Row...fixing a STAFF bot that some kids messed with...restocking the ice cream parlor in Bonnie Bowl with new ingredients...and a few other things. Most of it didn’t sound too hard, but you were a little worried about that STAFF bot. Sure, Fazbear liked to brag about how their animatronics were extremely advanced yet simple to use, but you didn’t think you were qualified to work on anything robotic-related. You hadn’t even taken any math classes in college.

Well. Better get to it. If that STAFF bot from before was right, new tasks could show up at any moment. You shouldn’t let them pile up.

Sure enough, all the tasks you’d been assigned were simple to figure out. The biggest obstacle in your way was navigating the damn Pizzaplex. The Faz-map on the FazWatch was Faz-awful. Terribly low resolution. This company was worth billions of dollars, but it couldn’t spare ten bucks for the map. And the paper map you’d been handed only showed areas customers were allowed to be in, it was no help for the employee-only parts. But once you figured out where you were going, it was just a bunch of manual labor. Even the broken STAFF bot only had its wheels jammed. Jabbing about with a screwdriver fixed it right away.

Sooner than you thought, six o’clock approached, and with it, your fifteen-minute break. You were pleasantly surprised to see that you’d already completed all your assigned tasks. Maybe you could take a longer-than-mandated break. If you were really lucky, you might even be able to just chill for the rest of your shift.

You looked around. Your last task had been fixing a machine in customer service. Apparently a teenager stuck a magnet on it and completely broke it. Honestly, you hadn’t been sure what to do, so you just turned the machine off and on again. Surprisingly, it worked. Hopefully. You’d hate to make some other human worker—of which you had seen none the whole day—fix it. Now, you were standing near the elevators in the lobby, staring up at the massive golden Freddy statue. Customers were standing around, waiting for the elevators to arrive. A few little kids were looking at you, probably wondering why this strange person was wearing sunglasses indoors.

Alright. Logically, you should take your break in the break room. That would be great...if you knew where one was. In the three hours you’d been wandering around the Pizzaplex doing menial tasks, you hadn’t seen anything even like a break room in any of the employee-only areas. So...that left you at a loss.

A loud noise pierced the sound barrier you’d set up with your headphones. You jumped and glanced around. One of the kids waiting for the elevator was screaming and pulling against his mom, apparently scared of getting in the moving metal box. A few other customers were watching the scene. Some of them noticed you staring and stared right back. You quickly looked away, feeling irrationally guilty.

Ah, screw the break room. You just needed a place that was quiet and empty of customers so you could eat your lunch (dinner?) without any unexpected noises or staring families.

You looked around for an area without any people. Obviously, the lobby and main atrium were a no-go. What else was there? Gift shop, lost and found, daycare—daycare?

Partly out of curiosity, partly out of noticing nobody was heading that direction, you walked over to the big garage door. It opened on its own, doing that thing where the doors recognize your security level and let you in accordingly. You ducked under before it fully opened.

You found yourself in a long, wide hallway. The floor was a pattern of purple colors, while the ceiling resembled a night sky full of stars. There was a series of planters with palm trees—probably fake—and various decals on the brick walls. One was a rainbow logo with an arrow pointing further down the hall, reading “Superstar Daycare Pick-Up.”

While you could have sat on one of the planters to eat your lunch, you headed further down the long, wide hallway, wanting to see if there’s a better place at the end. You glanced around at the wall decals. They seemed to be advertisements for some sort of...candy? Sunnydrop Energizing Candy and Moondrop Sleepy-Time Candy, each featuring cartoon mascots styled after the sun and moon respectively. It was pretty cute, actually, but you couldn’t help but wonder what made this candy “energizing” and “sleepy.”

Drugs?

No, probably not.

But honestly given the rumors surrounding Fazbear Entertainment and child endangerment, you wouldn’t be surprised to hear they were putting something weird in the candies. Maybe too much of something that’s regulated for good reason.

The hallway ended in another one of those garage doors, decorated with a sun and moon motif. This also opened automatically, and you were immediately greeted by a pair of golden statues. Kind of like the one in the lobby, but much smaller. And instead of depicting any of the headlining Glamrock animatronics, these are replicas of some sort of...sun and moon...things. With puffy pants. Oh, wait. They were probably the same characters on the candy advertisements. Duh.

You stepped further into the room. There were a few tables and chairs here, and you took off your backpack in anticipation of sitting down for what must have been the first time in three hours. But before you did, you looked around some more. The area overlooked a larger playplace, walled in and with netting covering the top. You stared down at it. Looked pretty nice, honestly. You would have loved something like this as a little kid. But where was the entrance? There was a slide up here that leads down into the playplace (labelled “Slide Into Fun!”) but that doesn’t help with getting out.

Still holding your backpack, you pushed through the turnstiles and walk down the stairs to what must be the ground floor. More tables down here, sweet. And an oversized pair of wooden double doors. Good. That solved that mystery. With your curiosity satisfied, you sat down at one of the tables and pulled out your lunch.

You ate peacefully, unbothered by any customers or tasks, completely content to sit here and avoid the possibility of being stared at. Your music blared in your ears, so you turned it down a bit, since it didn’t need to be as loud in this quieter area.

While you sat there, you wondered if you’d ever get to meet any of those famous animatronics Fazbear was known for. They’d been completely absent so far; you hadn’t even seen them in their rooms when you cleaned the glass on Rockstar Row. Strange. You knew the Pizzaplex had closed for a while about a month ago—something that was heavily complained about on social media. The official excuse was “maintenance” and “upgrading systems,” but it had all been very vague. Even the email you got upon hiring hadn’t said much. It was very mysterious. Maybe something happened during that time it was closed, something that put the animatronics out of commission, but Fazbear decided to reopen without the animatronics anyway. You wouldn’t be surprised.

Once you were finished, you checked the time on your phone—surprisingly, the FazWatch didn’t have a space for the time. 6:08. Huh. Speed-eating, hell yeah. Now, with some time to kill before your break ended, you put your lunch bag away and stood up.

Movement flickered in the corner of your eyes.

Your head whipped towards it. Where did that come from? Was it...inside the playplace?

You approached the wall cautiously, peering through the glass at the play area. At some point during your break, someone had shown up inside there. Or...maybe it would be more accurate to say something. Your wondering about the animatronics must have called to the universe, because now there was one only twenty feet away from you.

The animatronic had its back turned to you, but you recognized the design immediately. It was the same as the golden statue on the floor above. Tall, with long limbs and a circular disc of a head, triangular metal bits jotting out from the side to imitate sunrays. Puffy striped pants and frills around the waist and neck made it look like a clown or jester. Currently, the animatronic was fussing with a stack of toy barrels, bent over and carefully nudging them. Which was a little strange. The barrels were already perfectly stacked.

For a moment, you just watched, intrigued. This wasn’t like any other Fazbear animatronics you’d seen pictures of. It was much thinner and lacked an animal theme, but also...well, its colors were a bit duller than you were expecting. Especially for something themed around the sun. You would have expected bright colors, like the candy advertisements, but instead it was all pale yellows and grays, with darker reds and oranges in the pants and frills. Maybe all the animatronics weren’t quite as colorful as their ads depicted.

As you continued to stare, the animatronic stood up straight, putting its hands on its hips and nodding. It spun around...and immediately stopped when it caught sight of you through the glass wall.

“Oh. Uh...” You were once again surprised by the inaccuracy of the decals on the walls. Yes, the animatronic had a sun for a face, divided in half with one half looking like a crescent moon. But unlike the ads, the animatronic’s eyes were just blank white. No pupils to be seen. It was a little unsettling, but you got over it. Slowly, you raised a hand and waved. “Hi,” you say, feeling awkward.

To your surprise, the sun animatronic immediately jumped into the air and began waving back enthusiastically. It followed this up with several excited gestures, even doing a little dance where it hopped back and forth on its feet. You couldn’t help but smile; something about this was endearing. But as the animatronic continued to gesture, you realized it was probably talking to you.

“Oh! Hang on.” You dug into your pocket, pausing your music on your phone and taking off your headphones. Now you could hear ambient music playing from overhead speakers: a catchy, bouncy tune that was fitting for a daycare. “What were you saying?” you asked.

The animatronic had paused for a bit while you rooted around in your pockets, but once it had your attention again it instantly resumed its excitement, waving its hands back and forth and rotating its face—rotating its face?! Yep, surprisingly, that circular plate of a head could rotate all the way around. That was kind of cool. You wondered how it worked. But, sadly, you still couldn’t hear anything. Was this glass soundproof?

You glanced at the big wooden double doors, but then hesitated. Pulling out your phone again, you watched the time change from 6:11 to 6:12. Then you checked the FazWatch on your wrist. No new tasks had shown up...You wouldn’t have any work to do until one appeared. And that might be a while. You considered it...and then muttered “Why not?” under your breath and walked over to the doors.

Unlike the garage doors leading to the daycare area, these wooden ones didn’t open automatically upon your approach. For a moment, you worried that your security level wasn’t high enough. But then you grab the handle of one of the doors and pull, and it opened without resistance. Well...without much resistance, at least. It was still a very big door, and you grunted with exertion as you gradually pulled it open.

The moment there was enough space, you slipped through, letting the door slowly shut behind you. You coughed, waving your hand in front of your face as dust floated through the air, and then pulled on your emergency face mask. Good thing you’d thought to bring that. The overhead music was even louder inside the playplace, looping along, echoing through the completely empty area.

Well. Almost completely empty.

“Hello new friend!” The sun animatronic from earlier appeared in front of you, grabbing your upper arms and lifting you off your feet. “It’s so good to meet you!”

“Holy shit!” you yelped.

“Sorry!” The animatronic instantly let go, and you fell to the floor, jolting at the one-foot drop. It backed up a bit. “It’s just so exciting to see someone new!” Even as it continued to talk, it couldn’t stay still, bouncing on its feet and fidgeting with its hands. “We can color, play hide and seek, order pizza and eat until we can’t anymore! It’ll be so much fun!”

“I—okay, uh, yeah.” You reached up and massaged the spot on your arm where the animatronic grabbed you. Its grip hadn’t been too tight, but the metal hands made it feel much worse. “Uh...Who are you, by the way?”

“My name is Sun!” The animatronic said cheerfully. “But you can call me Sunny or Sunshine or whatever else you want! And what’s your name, new friend?”

You gave it—him?—you’re going to go with him—your name, and then moved on. “Yeah, I, uh...I’m glad to meet you, too, dude. I-I just started working here. I, uh...haven’t seen any other animatronics yet.”

“Oh, it’s your first day?” Sun gasped, despite not having the breath to do it properly. “And I’m the first one you’ve met? I’m so honored! A-are you here to help reopen the daycare?!”

“Um...nnno.” Sun instantly deflated. Guilt curled around your stomach. "S-sorry. I didn’t even know we had a daycare until now. I just kinda wandered in ‘cause I didn’t see anyone else heading over here. Uh...but! It’s really cool that we have one!” You put a happy spin in your voice, trying to cheer Sun up. Though you weren’t sure if it’ll work on an animatronic...

It worked. Sun perked up. “It is really cool! The Superstar Daycare is the bestest place for all the little ones to play and have fun!”

“Yeah, it looks nice.” Though, now that you were actually in the daycare...you noticed just how empty it is. There was quite a bit of dust in the air, and a visible layer of it over on a nearby desk. And besides the occasional stack of toy barrels, there was nothing on the ground. You gave Sun another look. Close up, you realized that his colors aren’t naturally dull. Instead, the paint on his body was chipped and faded, covered in a layer of grime. What did he say? ‘Are you here to help reopen the daycare’? How long has this place been closed?

“Of course it looks nice! I keep everything nice and orderly!” Sun stood to the side, holding his arms out in a ‘Look at this!’ gesture, indicating the entire playplace. “See?”

“Yeah, I saw you messing with some of these barrels through the glass,” you said.

“Yep! It’s important that everything’s just right! Very important, ho ho ho!” Sun laughed. “Oh, but where are my manners? What would you like to do, new friend? I-I have puppets, and paints, and all sorts of supplies!”

“Well...” You checked your FazWatch. No new tasks had shown up, but... “Um. Sun. You know I’m...on the clock right now, right? That means I might have to leave to do something at any moment, and eventually I need to clock out and go home...”

“Oh.” Again, Sun’s posture slumped a little. “No, I...I know, new friend. I-I just thought I’d offer.” He tapped his fingertips together, looking down at the ground. “You don’t have to stay, but if you want to, we can do anything you want! I-I promise it’ll be fun! But it’s up to you.”

Even though his expression didn’t change from a smile the whole time he talked, he looked and sounded so dejected that you immediately felt bad. Could an animatronic feel sadness or was it just a programmed response? Well, either way, your heart was too soft to just ignore him. “Hey, I didn’t say I was going to go right now,” you said, giving him a smile. “I have some free time to hang out.”

“Really?!” Sun looked up. “Oh wow! That’s great news, friend!” He jumped into the air, arms outstretched towards the sky in excitement, and landed with a solid thump! “We’re going to have so much fun! What do you want to do? I can go get some toys—oh, you’re probably a little old for them, though. I also have arts and crafts supplies, like fingerpaint and glitter glue! Or we can play games! I know a lot of different ones!”

“Um...yeah, sure, I’m down for some arts and crafts,” you said. “But nothing too messy. Do you have, like, markers or colored pencils or something?”

“Hmm, I don’t know. I’ll go check!” With that, Sun spun around—quite literally, his torso and head rotating 180 degrees before his legs caught up with the spin—and skipped off. He was gone before you could even say anything.

You blinked in surprise. What? Where did he even go? “Uhh...okay, then. I guess that’s how superheroes do it.”

With nothing to do but wait, you give the playplace another look, walking around some of the play structures. There was a ball pit. Sweet. Part of you was tempted to jump right in, but there could be anything hidden in there, bugs or worse. If you were a kid, though, you wouldn’t have hesitated. The play structures themselves were pretty sturdy, despite the daycare being closed for god knows how long. It would probably be a bit cramped for an adult like you, but again, as a kid you would be all over them. Stacks of toy barrels were all over, which you avoided touching due to how concerned Sun was over keeping things orderly.

Other than all that, the only thing of note in the daycare was the big desk by the wooden door. You wandered back over, stepping behind it. The dust on the surface looked even thicker up close, though there were areas that weren’t as dusty. Most notably around a small Freddy Fazbear head that looked like it was supposed to hold something. That was a little weird...why that specifically? And not something like the computers or drawers?

“Oh, new friend? I-I don’t think you’re supposed to be behind there.”

You looked up. Sun had returned, carrying a big plastic box and a stack of plain white paper in his arms. He was standing some distance away from the desk, bouncing in a more...anxious way than before. “I’m not? Why not?” you asked. “I’m staff.” You pointed at your shirt for emphasis.

“W-well, um...” Sun paused. “It’s...just for security! And I don’t think you’re security, you would have a different uniform if you were.” He laughed, but it sounded a bit strained.

You raised an eyebrow. “For security? Really?”

“Yep.” Sun’s bouncing grew faster, his mechanical joints making a clacking—and jingling?—sound. “And we don’t really need the desk, anyway! We can just sit on the floor and draw!”

“The floor’s soft,” you pointed out, glancing down at the mats that covered every surface.

“We can use the box!” He shook the box he was holding. Something inside clattered against the plastic sides. “If we just...stay out here.”

You stepped out from behind the desk, noticing the way Sun stopped bouncing the moment you did. Something behind there was making him nervous. There was no doubt about it. “Are...you okay?” you ask slowly.

“What do you mean, friend?”

“I mean, like, do you have deskophobia or something?” You raised your hands. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m not gonna go back there if you don’t want. I just want to...be sure. That everything’s good here.”

“Oh!” Sun sounded pleasantly surprised. “Thank you for your concern, friend! No, I’m not afraid of the desk. I’m just...not allowed to go back there. A-and we can’t spend time together if you’re hiding behind the desk!”

“Huh. Okay, then.” You nodded, but there was clearly something more going on. Sun was scared of you being behind the desk. Was there something back there that he didn’t like? Well...this wasn’t the time to bring it up. You didn’t want to give a robot a panic attack. “Alright, we’ll just sit down here then.” You lowered yourself to the floor, sitting on the soft mats.

“Alrighty!” Sun sat down across from you, folding his long legs and setting the plastic box and paper in between the two of you. He took the lid off the box, revealing its contents: a mismatched assortment of markers, pencils, and crayons, colors and brands all mixed together.

“We’ll have to dump these out if we’re going to use the box as a table,” you said.

“That’s okay, as long as we clean it all up after!” Sun didn’t hesitate to tip the box over, spilling coloring supplies all over the floor. “Here, you can use this! I’ll use the lid.”

“Okay, if you insist.” You laughed a little, doing your best to keep the various supplies from rolling too far away.

Silence fell for a while as you’re quickly sucked into drawing. It had been a while since you’d drawn for fun, outside of an art class. It was nice to doodle whatever you wanted. Sun was quiet as well, except for a slight jingling sound that you soon realized came from bells tied on ribbons around his wrists. He went through a lot more paper than you did, only spending five or ten minutes on each page.

Eventually, you noticed he wasn’t coloring anymore. You looked up and saw his face leaning over you, looking at your own drawing. “Oh fuck!” you gasped, surprised. “When did you get here?!”

“Um, friend, I-I was nice about it before but language like that really shouldn’t be used in the daycare,” Sun said.

“Even when there’s nobody else here?” you muttered under your breath.

“Even then!”

“Oh. I-I didn’t realize you could hear that.” Great, now you’re embarrassed about sassing the daycare animatronic. “Anyway, uh. Sorry. You just surprised me, leaning so close.”

Sun immediately leaned back, quick enough that you were mildly surprised he didn’t fall over backwards. “Oh I’m so sorry! I should have realized. I just wanted to get a better look at your art. You’re a very good artist, friend! That’s a wonderful drawing!”

“Haha. Thanks, dude.” Your face grew a little warm. That sounded like the sort of compliment someone would give a little kid during crafts time in school. But hey, Sun was probably programmed for interacting with small children, so you didn’t pay it much mind. It sounded genuine coming from him, not condescending like it might coming from another adult. “It’s just doodling.”

“If that’s just doodling than your other art must be amazing!” Sun leaned a bit forward again. “I really like this one.” He pointed at a drawing of a flower you’d done in one corner of the paper. “And this one!” Now he pointed at a sketch of a person, smiling and waving in another corner.

“Daw, stop it, Sun. You’re so sweet.” You laughed a little bit. “I’m just practicing poses and colors and stuff.”

Before Sun could say anything else, an intercom overhead crackled to life. “It is now seven o’clock. The Superstar Daycare is officially closed,” said the familiar voice of the announcer. “The Daycare lights will be turning off in five hours. Have a wonderful day here at the Freddy Fazbear Mega Pizzaplex.”

“Seven o’clock? Really?” Surprised, you checked the time. Seven o’clock indeed. You’d been sitting here for forty-five minutes. It hadn’t felt like that long at all. More importantly... “Wait, isn’t the daycare already closed? I mean, hadn’t it been closed for a while? What’s up with the announcer?”

“Oh, don’t worry about that, friend,” Sun said. “That always happens at this time! It’s just a scheduled thing! Yes, the daycare has been...closed for a while...but it might open again soon! You have to be prepared. A-and don’t worry about the lights going off! They don’t turn off anymore.”

“I...wasn’t really all that worried about the lights turning off, but thanks,” you said slowly. “My shift ends in two hours, anyway, so I wouldn’t be here long enough even if they did.”

“Good!” Sun sounded oddly...relieved? “The lights have to stay on.” His peppy voice suddenly became very serious. “On. On.”

“Okay, okay. You’re really serious about that, aren’t you?”

“It’s very important,” Sun added, still in that grim tone.

You blinked, confused. You’re about to ask him why it was important when you’re interrupted by a quiet ping! sound, followed by a voice coming from your wrist that said, “New task added!”

“Huh?” You lifted up your arm, looking at the FazWatch. Indeed, a new task had just appeared. A few machines in the East Arcade had run out of tickets and needed refilling. “Oh shi—shoot.” You stand up, only now realizing the pins and needles in your legs. “I have to go.”

“Already?” Sun stood up as well, much more fluidly than you did. “But you haven’t been here that long!”

“I know, I know. I’m sorry.” You bent over and started putting the coloring supplies back into their box. “But you know what they day. Duty calls, and all that. Call of duty. Call of Duty Shooter Man.”

Sun’s face rotates a bit to the side, perhaps confused by your last remark. “Well, do you have to go right now? We can keep coloring! Or if you want, we can do something else!”

“It’s tempting, but I really shouldn’t.” You sighed.

Suddenly, Sun reached forward and grabbed your arm. “A-are you sure? I have more crafts supplies! I-I can go find them!”

“Jeez, dude, be careful with the grabbing!” You pulled your arm away, discreetly looking down at the spot where he grabbed you to check if it left a mark. Luckily, it didn’t.

“I’m sorry!” Sun retracted his arm, stepping backwards. “I-I’m really sorry.” He put his hands behind his back, as if to show that he wasn’t going to try again. “Heh. O-of course, you probably have...very important technician things to do. Go ahead. Sorry.”

“...wait, what?” You weren’t sure if you heard him right. “What do you mean ‘technician things’?”

“Well...because you’re an animatronic technician,” Sun said.

“I’m a what?!”

Your shout echoed in the empty daycare, but you didn’t care much about your volume at the moment. You weren’t supposed to be a technician! You weren’t remotely qualified for that! That wasn’t even the job you’d applied for! How in the Fazfuck were you a technician?!

“Did you...not know that, friend?” Sun asked hesitantly. “I-I mean, it’s possible that you were incorrectly entered as one in the database! Or that my scan was wrong!”

“Your scan?” you asked absentmindedly, more concerned with the whole technician thing.

“We automatically scan any face we see!” Sun said proudly. “That way we can identify a child’s registered guardian and also any staff members with their information in the company database!”

“Right. Okay, that makes sense.” You looked down at the FazWatch again. “Oh my god, is that why my security level is so high? Because it thinks I’m supposed to work on the animatronics? Ffffffrick. Frick, man.”

“Friend, are you...alright?” Sun asked. “Is there anything I can do?”

“No. Thanks for offering, though.” You rubbed your eyes, suddenly feeling tired, and pulled off your face mask. “I’m just...going to go.”

Sun said nothing. When you looked up again, he was staring at you, perfectly still with his shoulders hunched. He seemed tense.

“I’ll come back,” you reassured him. “If not after I take care of this, then tomorrow. I have another shift at the same time, I can stop by to visit.”

“Promise?” Sun asked.

“Promise,” you said, smiling.

“Oh that’s great, friend!” Sun clapped his hands together, the motion accompanied by jingling bells and metallic clanking sounds. “I’ll be prepared next time! Oh! Do you want to take your drawings with you?” He bent over, carefully picking up your arts projects from the floor and holding them out for you.

“Sure.” You took the offered pieces of paper. “Thanks, Sun.” After a moment’s pause, you turn around and head back to the big wooden doors. “Well. I’ll see you later, then.”

“See you later, friend!” Sun waved cheerfully as you pushed the door open and headed out.

Unfortunately, you were not able to return to the daycare before the end of your shift. After you’d refilled the arcade machines with tickets, two more tasks had appeared, instructing you to fix the lights in El Chip’s and clean a whole crowd of STAFF bots that had been attacked with cake at a kid’s birthday party. And after that, the tasks kept coming. You barely managed to finish them all before it was time to clock out at nine o’clock.

You wanted to stop by the daycare before heading home—which surprised you. Sun had really made a strong impression, for you to already be attached. But it was going to be a long drive back, and to be honest, walking around late at night made you pretty anxious. Even if it was just a short way from your car to your apartment. You didn’t want it to be any later than it already was.

Still, you felt bad just leaving. So you quickly ran back to the daycare area, stopping by just long enough to peer through the glass walls into the playplace. Sure enough, Sun was there, fussing with the stack of toy barrels again. He quickly caught sight of you and waved. You waved back, then pointed to the side, indicating you were leaving. It was hard to tell from this height, up by the “Slide Into Fun!” slide, but it almost looked like Sun’s shoulders slumped. Was he disappointed? Well shit, now you just felt worse. You waved harder, then slowly backed away and disappeared.

You’d make it up to him tomorrow.

#fnaf security breach #fnaf sun #fnaf moon #fnaf daycare attendant #x reader #y/n #sundrop #moondrop #findingequinoxfic

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babyjakes · 2 years

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forever and a day | 34. willa's.

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summary | a story in which america’s favorite captain gives a new life and family to a five-year-old girl who has suffered well beyond her years at the hands of hydra.

characters | dad!steve rogers, girl/willa rogers (original character)

warnings | AU similar enough to OU to include spoilers to many Marvel movies (Age of Ultron and beyond). action and fight scenes with violence and killing. injuries/mild gore. mature themes related to and semi-graphic depictions of child abuse/neglect, past CSA and CSM, and their aftermath (emaciation, wounds, scarring, etc). medical abuse and experimentation. ptsd/trauma symptoms in a child (developmental discrepancies, de-humanized behavior, detachment, extreme fears). medical treatment of CSM and other aftermath of abuse.trauma-informed therapeutic treatment of ECT. minor mentions of disordered eating. evil!Tony Stark.

[Steve]

After about an hour or so of addressing her wounds, Willa fell right asleep on the make-shift cot. I’ve wrapped her up in a blanket and placed another under her head, folded up as a pillow. The poor girl cried the entire time. She didn’t say much, just cried. With the amount of pain she seemed to be in, it didn’t surprise me that she was struggling to form words. Fortunately, I guess, Tony’s blasters didn’t do much more than surface damage. While the kid’s got some pretty nasty burns, I didn’t detect any critical injuries. That doesn’t mean, though, that she’s in any way alright. This was a big hit for her to take, especially from Tony. I get that he was trying to shoot at me, but at the end of the day, he shouldn’t have been shooting at all.

After packing the last of the medical supplies back into the storage compartments, I make my way to the front of the ship to find Bucky. He’s sitting in the pilot’s seat, staring straight ahead as the world flies by through the window. I come up beside him and take the seat to his right, not saying anything at first. He’s silent as well; he doesn’t even turn to look at me, but I can tell he’s aware of my presence.

“How is she?” he asks after several more minutes of silence.

“Asleep,” I reply simply, shifting slightly in the uncomfortable seat.

“What kind of damage did Tony do?”

“Burns,” I tell him. “Nothing more, at least from what I could tell.”

“I can take a look at her too, when we land,” Buck offers. I nod.

“Did you put the plane in stealth mode?” I check.

“Yep. No way in hell they’ll find us,” my friend assures me. I sigh, thinking silently to myself, he better be right. Reaching into my pocket, I pull out my phone. Ten missed calls from Tony Stark. Unlocking the screen, I pull up his contact. With shaking fingers, I silence his notifications. Whatever he might have to say, I don’t want to hear it. Unless it’s an apology, but I know it’s not.

Shoving the device back in my pocket, I sigh again, gazing aimlessly out of the window in front of me. “She took that hit for me, Buck,” I say quietly, my voice barely above a whisper. The man’s expression softens slightly as he looks over at me, his grey-blue eyes meeting mine.

“I know,” he nods roughly. “I thought it was gonna kill her.”

“I did too,” I admit, heartbreak building up in my chest. “It very well could have. If it had been a blast from Wanda, or Vision-”

“They wouldn’t shoot at you like that,” Bucky argues. “Tony’s reached a new level of dangerous. His side’s entire objective was to stop us, just stop us. When he pointed his fist at you like that, the look in his eyes gave him away. He was firing to kill.” I look down at my lap, unsure of what to say. In the end, I’ll never truly know what Tony’s intent was. He had orders to bring us in, sure. But could Bucky be right? In that last moment, at his last chance to get me, was he coming for blood? “Maybe I’m not worth all this, Steve.” my friend’s voice trails off.

“Hey- no, okay? None of that. Of course you’re worth it, Buck; you know I’d do anything for you.”

“I know,” he says, swallowing hard. “Maybe that isn’t the best idea.”

“They’re trying to take you down for something you didn’t do. They want you locked up for the rest of your life; I can’t let them do that to you,” I try to reason with him.

“Maybe I belong locked up,” Buck mumbles. My heart drops in my chest as I look over to him. He keeps his gaze from meeting mine, staring straight ahead out of the window.

“Bucky- hey, listen to me. What you did- that wasn’t you,” I tell him sincerely . “They had control of your mind. You were a victim.”

“I know,” Bucky chokes out. “But I did it.”

Opening my mouth, I’m about to say more, but my phone ringing in my pocket stops me. I pull it out, the screen flashing a notification in front of me. Incoming call: Peter Parker.

“I’ve gotta take this,” I shake my head, standing up and stepping away from Bucky.

Venturing back into the jet, I find a chair in one of the rows of seats lining the walls. I take a long, deep breath before sliding across my phone screen to answer. “Peter?” I say warily, confused as to why the teen is calling me.

“Mr.- Ste- Cap- Captain?” the kid’s shaky voice responds, and I can instantly tell he’s in tears.

“Hey Peter,” I murmur, softening my voice. “What’s going on?”

“I-I’m sorry for c-calling you… the others don’t know; p-please don’t tell them,” he begs, his voice quivering. Pity builds in my chest for the young boy and I nod, even though he can’t see me.

“Okay, Pete. I won’t tell them. I promise, buddy. I won’t.” He sniffles, his breaths coming through loudly over the phone as he struggles to form his next words.

“I j-just- I need… is Willa okay? D-did she make it?” he asks, his voice cracking at the little girl’s name. A heartbroken smile faintly crosses my face at his question.

“Yeah, bud. She’s alright. She’s a little burnt up, but she’s gonna be just fine,” I assure him.

“I h-had no idea Mr. Stark w-would just shoot at you like that,” he admits coldly, the guilt evident in his voice. “H-he told me we were meeting you all there to bring you back, to bring you home. Then I found out that Tony wanted you in trouble.” I sigh, nodding. I had a pretty good feeling that Peter wasn’t in on all the details of our encounter. He showed little to no awareness of what he was actually doing, and given how much he clearly cares about us, I think he would’ve acted much differently if Tony had been straight with him. “I-I’m so sorry, sir. I never would’ve f-fought if-”

“Hey Peter, it’s okay. Alright? I know that Tony didn’t tell you the truth. I know how much you care about us, about Willa.”

“P-please don’t hate me, Ste- I-I mean, C-Cap, sir,” Peter pleads, his voice shaking in desperation.

“Never, buddy. I could never hate you. You’re alright, Peter. Things are just fine between you and me, and between you and Bucky and you and Willa, too.”

“O-okay,” the kid breathes, his voice coming down a little bit, allowing me to relax slightly, glad to have been able to ease his anxieties. “I-I have to go, I don’t want anyone catching me on the phone with you. B-but if you guys need anything, if there’s anything I can do…”

“Thank you, Peter. Stay safe, alright?”

“Yes sir,” he agrees, and the line goes dead. I take a deep breath, returning the phone to my pocket. The more time passes, and the more things progress, I just become more and more upset with Tony. Our little disagreements have really escalated into situations I find unacceptable. There was the whole incident with Willa in the lab back at the tower. And now there’s been this confrontation, a literal split down the middle of the team, and Tony’s not even giving his side the truth? It’s only led to chaos and people getting hurt. Willa being blasted. Bucky questioning his worth. Peter becoming scared that I would abandon him.

I’m snapped out of my thoughts by movement appearing in front of me as I gaze off distractedly. Glancing up, I see that Willa’s appeared in front of me, her big green eyes wide and full of tears. Her body shakes as she stands, looking as if she’s struggling to keep herself upright.

“Hi sweetheart,” I greet the girl carefully, startled that she’s up by herself. I open my arms up for her and she warily enters them, standing between my legs as I sit on the edge of my seat, wrapping her up as gently as I can in my embrace while being sure to not touch her injuries. “What are you doing up all by yourself?” I ask.

“W-woke up and couldn’t find you,” Willa whimpers. I nod, stroking her hair gently. “I-I’m sorry,” she adds as she wraps her own arms around my midsection, trembling through her apology. “Please forgive me.”

“What’re you sorry for, Willa?” I ask, confused as to what she could possibly feel the need to apologize for.

“Y-you, I…” the child begins, her voice trailing off as she tilts her head to look up into my eyes. “You weren’t s'pposed t-to bring me with. Th-thought you’d leave me with the others,” she reveals. My eyebrows raise in alarm as I shake my head at her.

“You- what? You’re sorry that we brought you?” Willa nods. “Why, doll? It was always the plan to bring you; we weren’t just gonna leave leave you there- I wasn’t just gonna leave you.”

“T-Tony was- h-he tried to kill you,” the little girl sniffles, her words sinking deep into my stomach. “Th-that’s why I- you should’ve gotten out, sh-should’ve gotten away,” she mumbles, pressing herself into my shirt. My heart pounds heavily in my chest as I hold the child in my arms.

“You- that’s why you ran in front of me? To take the hit so that… so that we could leave without you?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

Willa nods into my embrace, and an overwhelming sense of sadness and guilt settles in my gut. I guess what I can say is that if I had any doubt in my mind before about Willa’s love for me, it’s now surely vanished. She was clearly willing to risk everything for Bucky and I to get away. And to that, I don’t know what to say. The amount of love and care and selflessness wrapped up in this little five year old girl is truly unbelievable.

As gently as I can, I cup Willa’s uninjured cheek with my hand, tilting her head to lock her gaze with mine. “I love you, sweetheart. I want you to know that,” I tell her, and she nods. “You never needed to take that hit for me. The last thing I want you doing is putting yourself at risk for me, okay? It’s dangerous.”

“I-I’m sorry,” Willa stutters, tears building back up in her eyes. “P-please, I’m sorry.”

“Hey- no, don’t cry, honey. Shhh, don’t cry,” I croon, stroking my thumb against her cheek warmly. “I’m not angry with you. What you did back there meant the world to me, doll. I just want you to know that it’s my job to protect you. And if anything, it should be me jumping in to save you, okay?” The girl nods, sniffling down her sobs.

“St-Steve?” she asks.

“Hmm?”

“Like- like a mommy?” her little voice wavers, her eyes peering up into mine. The familiar words ring through my ears, and as I gaze into her eyes, through the watery pools of green, I see so much fear, so much hesitancy. But stronger than that, more than anything, I just see longing. Longing that’s been there for a while now.

“Like a mommy, that’s right,” I tell her warmly. “Protecting you and caring for you, loving you. Just like a mommy, sweetheart.”

Willa’s tiny hand raises up to point a single finger at me, then turning it around to point at herself, her eyebrows raise in question. And even though I can almost certainly tell what she’s asking, I decide to push her a little bit further, hoping that she’ll confirm it for me, just to be safe. “What do you mean, Willa?” I ask, nodding at her hand.

The wide-eyed child takes a deep breath, her bottom lip beginning to tremble. And as it does, it almost feels like the whole thing might be falling apart completely. She drops my gaze as tears flood her eyes, her breathing escalating rapidly. As she jerks back slightly in my arms, I instantly rush in to reassure her, “Hey, hey. Easy, sweetheart. Breathe for me,” I murmur, rubbing up and down her back soothingly. “Can you ask me, Willa? It’s safe for you to ask me,” I promise her. “I just want to hear it coming from you.”

Willa squeezes her eyes shut tightly, tears running down both of her cheeks. But just when I think I’ve lost my chance with her once more, she opens her mouth again, her words seeming to stumble out before she can stop them. “Y-you- be my- b-be mine? Th-that? Be- like a m-mommy, t-to me? M-my mommy- Willa’s m-mommy?”

A flood of grace and tenderness washes over me as I run my thumb over the precious girl’s cheek, almost trying to will her eyes to open with my mind. Somehow, it works, and my gaze locks with hers, relief and love shining through the green as she sees the smile forming on my face. “Okay, Willa. I’ll be that for you. Like your mommy. Willa’s.”

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#faad #faad: willa's #eun's writing #steve rogers #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers series #steve rogers au #steve rogers angst #steve rogers fluff #hurt/comfort #steve rogers x child!oc #dad!steve rogers #the avengers #avengers fanfiction #mcu #mcu fanfiction #captain america #captain america fanfiction

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worsethandeath · 2 years

Text

hot summer’s day

cw: dehydration, implied starvation, kidnapping mention, sun exposure, strappado/stress positions, electrocution, dislocation, manhandling, bound wrists, noncon touching, sleep deprivation (kinda), self-sacrifice, creepy (?) whumper, threat of death

to be honest I’ve never posted anything like this so I tried my best with the content warnings. these characters aren’t related to anything I just came up with them specifically for this. also I don’t know what I’m doing. enjoy.

It was a hot summer’s day when he dragged them outside, both with their hands bound tightly behind them, but neither gagged. There would be no one near to hear them even if they tried to scream. The yard itself was large and open, very few trees, and in the back corner was a well-kept garden. Five feet from the patio was what, at first glance, looked like a stage; a simple wooden platform, with metal rings sticking up from the planks, and a sturdy six foot pole coming up from the back of it. At the top of the pole was a beam sticking out over the platform, with a few diagonal supports to keep it sturdy. A rope hung from the end of the beam, swaying idly in the breeze, threaded through a series of metal rings screwed into the underside of the wood.

There wasn’t a cloud in the sky, and the sun was intense above them. They’d hardly been outside since they were taken, and their skin had thinned and paled. The concrete beneath them burned the soles of their feet.

Mister pulled them to a stop on the patio, and walked in front of them, gesturing to the structure.

“Which of you would like to try it out?” he asked with a grin. He had on a wide-brimmed hat, and sunglasses that hid his eyes.

Dana and Scout said nothing, only inched closer to one another for some small ounce of comfort.

Mister stepped forward, tilting his head. “Come on now, I worked hard to build this for you.” He grabbed Scout by the chin and forced him to look up at him. “No need to be shy.” He released his grip and ran the palm of his hand down Scout’s neck, squeezing his shoulder muscle. Scout’s gaze immediately fell back to the ground and he trembled under Mister’s touch. Dana tried to press closer, to reassure him that she was still there. Mister dropped his hand and walked behind them. Neither dared turn around. Next to her, Scout suddenly cried out, as Mister kicked at the back of his leg; he lost his balance and fell hard, knees slamming into the concrete patio. Dana winced, not daring to move.

Mister crouched down next to Scout, now kneeling with his head bowed, and grabbed him by his hair, using it to push him down and grind his face into the grit. Scout whimpered. Mister held him down, forcing him to hold the bowed position. Behind his back, Scout’s hands flexed as his arms twisted, trying and failing to find some comfort as he was held there longer and longer.

“Do you want to get up, little one?” Mister’s voice was soft.

“Y-yes,” Scout whispered.

Mister pressed harder on the back of his head. “Go on then, get up.”

Scout’s squirming intensified, but he was unable to lift himself against Mister’s hand. Mister barely needed any pressure to keep Scout down. After a few more minutes of watching him struggle, Mister let up, and Scout lifted his head, only to be met with a boot to the face. He cried out and fell to the side, his bare arm scraping hard against the ground. There was a spot damp with tears and blood where his face had been. Dana tried not to look at it.

Scout tensed, waiting for another blow, but Mister didn’t move. After a few seconds of waiting with bated breath, he slowly pulled himself to his feet, careful not to lose his balance without the use of his arms. The entire left side of his face was rubbed raw and dripping blood. He assumed his position next to Dana. Mister let out an exasperated sigh.

“Fine.” He grabbed Scout by his arm and pulled him to the platform. Scout’s eyes flashed to Dana, wide with fear.

“W-wait!” Dana shuffled forward, still avoiding Mister’s eyes. “I’ll do it. Whatever it is.”

Mister broke out into a wide smile. “There we go.” He let go of Scout’s arm, and beckoned Dana forward. She looked to Scout, and with tears in his eyes he mouthed, ‘thank you.’ She swallowed and walked forward, stepping up onto the platform. Mister grabbed the rope, wrapping and knotting it methodically around her bound wrists. She let herself sob as silently as she could muster, turning her head away from Scout. Mister tugged the last knot tight and patted Dana’s arm. “Wait here.”

He marched over to Scout and pulled him to a short wooden pole in the ground. He pushed him to his knees by his shoulder, and tied his wrists to the pole. Scout swallowed. Head down.

Mister mussed up his hair and made his way back to Dana. “You ready, sweetheart?”

Dana couldn’t bring herself to shake her head. Mister wrapped the other end of the rope around his hand and began to slowly pull taut the rope around her wrists. Dana tried to keep her breathing steady. The skin on her face and shoulders was burning. Mister continued to pull on the rope, stretching the muscles of her shoulders so she was forced to bend forward. Mister tugged once, forcefully, and Dana gasped as her shoulders were stretched to their limits, stopping just short of being pulled out of their sockets. She stood up on her tiptoes, trying to get some minute relief.

“P-please…” she whimpered.

Mister secured the rope to the pole behind her and came around, crouching down so he could be level with her.

“”Please’ what, darling?”

“P-please sir, please don’t pull anymore. It h-hurts.” Her burned skin rubbed painfully against itself where her arms met her torso. Her calves were beginning to ache, but any attempt to bring her heels down caused her shoulders to scream.

Mister’s lips twisted, but his expression was inscrutable beneath the glasses. “Now, darling, of course it hurts. It’s supposed to.” He knelt down and knotted some rope around Dana’s ankles, running it through the two metal rings near her feet and keeping her from being lifted off the platform. He stood back up. “There you go. Now you shouldn’t suffocate.”

Dana choked back a sob. “P-Please sir, what do you want? I’ll d-do anything, just let me down!”

Mister clicked his tongue, gently patting her on the cheek. “Oh, sweetheart… I want you to scream.” He pulled the rope free again and all at once pulled down, lifting Dana’s wrists into the air. With nowhere else to go, her shoulders made a sound somewhere between a snap and a pop, and the tension that had been forcing her to bend forward vanished, replaced with a pain unlike anything she’d ever felt. And scream she did, a sound that was hoarse and desperate, all the air of the loudest scream she could muster, without the voice. Her feet scrambled beneath her, trying to take on the burden from her shoulders, rope digging into her wrists and ankles with equal force.

It burned, and the heat of the sun was nothing to her anymore. She twisted, trying to find some marginally more comfortable position, to no avail. Screams continued to rip themselves from her throat as waves of pain crashed into her.

Mister reached back and tugged hard on the rope- jerking her arms up and then letting them drop again. Dana’s eyes flashed open as she shrieked, more piercing than the previous ones.

“Oh, that was delicious.” He pulled the rope again, eliciting another broken shout.

The pain was too much. She could feel her consciousness slipping, even as she knew letting herself black out would tear her shoulders even further out of place. Her eyelids fluttered, trying to keep her eyes open. She must have left them closed for a second too long, because Scout shouted, “no!” as Mister’s taser met the flesh of her stomach. The scream caught in her throat as all her muscles seized, including those previously holding her shoulders in place. Tears poured from her eyes. She couldn’t breathe.

“No sleeping, dearest, if you hang for too long you’ll suffocate.” Mister pulled the taser away. Dana could do nothing but sob. If she stood up on her toes, her calves ached; if she dropped, her shoulders screamed at her; if she fell unconscious, she’d suffocate- or else be shocked awake again. At this point, she didn’t know what would be worse.

So she hung there, sobs sometimes punctuated by screams when Mister decided to tug on the rope. Eventually the tears wouldn’t even come, and she just shook, trying not to pull at her shoulders or meet Mister’s eye.

After ten minutes, the sun started to take its toll. She had already been dehydrated, and now she was being left in the unrelenting afternoon sun with no water.

“M-mister, please, I need water, I’m gonna… I’m gonna pass out,” she begged. Her mind swam, and a combination of a lack of blood flow and dehydration caused her arms and legs to begin to cramp painfully. What little food she had in her stomach threatened to expel itself, but she forced it down.

“Come on darling, you can stay awake. I’ve given you enough water this week. I even gave you a glass yesterday when you asked so nicely.”

“Please!” Her body was drenched in sweat, yet she was shivering. A few yards away, Scout’s eyes widened at the outburst.

Mister walked to the pole and wrapped the rope around his hand. “What was that, dear?”

Dana froze, then dropped her head. “I’m sorry, sir,” she whispered. “I will stay awake. Thank you for the water yesterday.”

“That’s better,” he said. He put the rope back and patted her shoulder; she bit down hard on her lip to suppress the whimper in her throat.

Even as she said the words she knew she couldn’t last much longer. Eventually the pain or the heat would get the better of her. Did Mister really intend to leave her there to die? Surely, if she blacked out, he would cut her down and bring her back inside. He would let her have some water, and rest for a few days. He wouldn’t let her die…

She jerked awake just as she collapsed with a strangled shout. Her hands were still bound behind her, and everything hurt, but her heart flooded with relief. It was over. She could rest.

“Thank you sir, thank you,” she sobbed. Mister picked her up, but he didn’t take her inside. Instead, he set her on the grass, tied her wrists to something, and walked away. She looked up, and froze. In her place on the platform was Scout, in the process of being tied to the rope, eyes red with tears, face raw but no longer bleeding, skin burned wherever it had seen the sun. He mustered up a small smile. Her heart sank.

#my writing #whump #electrocution #kidnapping #stress positions #dislocation #co-whumpees #worsethandeath #I need to get back into the habit of writing more frequently #so if this is a little scuffed it’s cause I’m out of practice ig #me making excuses but oh well

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