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joshmedin · 8 months

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We were talking about food, weren't we?

I could tell you about places I've eaten. I'm not wealthy at all, but I've still had some fairly amazing food in a place or two.

But the thing is, I'm a restaurant guy. I work in a pizza place right now; we're a chain, and while our food is pretty darned good, that's not what I'm going to talk about, either. Exactly.

Because I don't have children. I have the kids who work for us. And I take care of them. (Okay, not all of them. The white supremacist that I fired, not so much.)

So when the kids have been good, and time allows, I feed them something special, something they can't just get off the menu-- but something that I can make with only the ingredients that I have on hand.

Let's look at a typical example.

I start with a crust. What kind of crust? I'll use any of them; our signature crust is a Detroit-style deep dish, which has a fluffier crust (lower-protein flour, closer to AP Flour than the bread flour that pizza dough normally uses), but I'm a past master at hand-tossed dough, and we have a very tasty thin, cracker crust as well. (The key to hand-tossed dough is to not use the dough press they provide, nor the docker they provide, but hand-toss it as God intended. But it's a skill that takes a while to master, so we have the press for the sake of new hires.)

Imagine the one you like best.

I don't just start there, though. There really ought to be veggies. My kids need to eat their veggies! But the default technique is fresh raw chopped veggies put on the pizza; they don't really cook very much due to their high internal water content (and actually make the top of the pizza cook less; pizzas with a lot of toppings, but especially wet toppings like tomatoes or pineapple require significantly more cooking.)

So let's improve things. Because of our deep-dish dough, we have no shortage of well-seasoned iron pans for the dough. In this, we add a mix of chopped green peppers (I'd prefer red or yellow, but I have to stick with what's available), chopped red onions, chopped tomatoes and sliced mushrooms. We're going to pour a little bit of garlic butter over this veggie medley and run the pan through our oven on the medium-cooking rack. (We have a conveyor-driven impingement oven, and that's it. It's very good for what it does, but it makes an awkward sauté device. But one learns to adapt.) This will nicely "grill" the veggies with the butter; the mushrooms will add some nice umami.

So, back to that pizza crust. We're putting tomato sauce on; it's not the only choice, but it's the most popular. But it needs something more, doesn't it? Over the layer of pizza sauce (uncooked; it's ground tomatoes, some water, and a seasoning mix of salt and herbs and no doubt other things) I add a drizzle of our ranch dressing.

Do NOT underestimate our ranch. The seasonings in it are pretty standard, but we start with extra-heavy mayo and buttermilk, the kind of thing that you can't buy in local stores. We have to special-order this stuff, and we make it ourselves every single day, like the sauce, like the dough.

You don't get the same quality with frozen dough shipped to stores and thawed, and you cannot convince me otherwise. Our dough isn't complicated at all, but fresh, hand-made dough is so much better than the alternatives.

Next, we must add cheese. Our cheese? No, not like those chains that buy frozen, pre-shredded boxes of cheese, each particle coated in cellulose to stop it from sticking. Ours? We take logs of mozzarella and a shredder, every day, after carefully assembling the cleaned blades and making sure that the machine will not commit awful mechanical suicide (the torque on literally every engine in the shop is insane) we push 'em through and carefully gather the shreds. We call this stuff "White gold," and it isn't cheap.

But I'm fond of cheese blends; I'll mix in other cheese that we have on hand-- cheddar, Romano, perhaps feta, sometimes even the provolone slices that we still use for our weird sandwich/calzone hybrid things. I'd add more, but, again, using what we have so we don't risk the wrath of corporate. Distribute evenly by hand, don't leave thin spots, for who wants those?

Those veggies are done now, caramelized and tasty, and they go on top of the cheese. Some of my kids don't eat meat; they're mostly set now, but others insist on further animal proteins. I often put grilled chicken on here, and maybe the addition of some nice, smokey bacon. I have to be careful with bacon, though-- it's tasty, but it tends to overwhelm subtler flavors. Still, it blends very nicely with the chicken indeed.

Okay, in the oven. I have a lot of stuff on this pizza; it will need a higher temperature and time to cook, but that's OK-- unlike most other places, our oven has three decks and four different chains, three different cooking temperatures and four different cooking times. Thickness of the pizza crust is an important detail here, so I make the necessary adjustments.

The pizza cooks; the cheese melts, and I used a lot of heat, so it becomes golden-brown, despite the cooking vegetables, the meats, all piled on top of each other, juices from the meats and veggies soaking into the flavor sponges that mushrooms are and transforming them while, in turn, adding that subtle vegetable umami to the blend. The grilled onions become sweeter and more tender; the peppers, likewise, the bitterness of green peppers becoming a subtle note in the symphony rather than a dominant aftertaste.

Okay, I cooked it. Are we ready to eat yet?

NO!

No, no, we have more work to do! A light dusting of garlic salt-- the garlic another flavor note, the salt light enough to bring out the flavors rather than becoming a flavor itself. (Alas, we have no fresh or roasted garlic! But one adapts.) Now we add the final touches-- perhaps some garlic butter around the crust, if it's hand-tossed, but otherwise, over to another station (once we've cut it with huge curved knives like scimitars fitted with an additional grip-point that would make them far too unbalanced to use as weapons using orthodox techniques) and NOW we add a little more mayo-- it doesn't take much; it's just a foundation for the real last step. Fresh, chopped lettuce and tomato. I'd add fresh spinach if we had it, but alas, it went bad too quickly, so corporate dropped it. Am I making a salad on top of the pizza? It may look like it, and I suppose I am, but the crisp, fresh taste of the lettuce, the acid of the tomatoes, these perform a wonderful contrast the the heaviness of pizza dough, cheese and meat, and one needs contrast in these matters.

Now, now we eat it. Carefully, though-- if it's thin crust, it MUST be cut in squares, or it won't be strong enough to support the toppings. If it's hand-tossed, consider the New York Fold as an approach to eating. Our deep dish can handle this as long as you manage to not spill the toppings everywhere when you bite into it.

If I used the deep dish, your lower jaw and tongue will encounter the crisp, fried outer layer of the dough first; your upper jaw, in turn, goes through a layer of fresh, crisp veggies, to the complex blend of flavors in the toppings, mixed together in the alchemy that is cooking, the hot cheese underneath still a bit melty, spreading over your mouth, the tomato sauce enhanced by the tangy richness of the ranch. You eat a slice. Perhaps two, if you are truly hungry.

And that will be enough. We're going to be hauling around fifty-pound bags of flour and fifty-pound boxes of mozzarella logs and hundred-pound buckets of freshly-mixed dough and stacks of pizza pans still rather warm from the oven and stacks of deep-dish dough and, later, cutting boards that are squares three feet on a side.

But this will give you the strength to go on. It fills your stomach in every regard, and-- hey, were you adding hot sauce to yours? That's fine. That's fine. I don't use it, but some people like the endorphin rush, and who am I to deny them?

But you got this pizza because you were good. Enjoy it.

And grab a slice quickly. Myles is coming back from his run, and he'll boggard the whole thing if we let him.

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spencerreidsconverse · 3 years

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When Evil Doesn't Sleep

summary: Spencer has been gone far too long on a case and when he finally returns home, reader shows him just how much she missed him.

word count: 3.4k

warnings: smut, implied dom/sub undertones, pet names

Pairing: Spencer Reid/Female Reader

A/N: My first fic!!! I hope you all enjoy! <3

“Y/n I’m really sorry but it looks like the case is going to take a lot longer than we thought. We had a recent development and the profile is now pointing to a partnership so now we’re hunting down two unsubs”. You sighed as Spencer rattled off his apologies through the phone before putting him out of his misery “Spencer honey, you don’t have to apologize. Quit worrying about me and focus on catching the bad guys.”

To say you missed Spencer would be the understatement of the century. He had been in Utah for six days already and now with a pair of psychos your odds of finding him in your bed by the end of the week were growing increasingly slim. It didn’t help that you had been swamped prepping for an extra class you’d agreed to take on at Georgetown where you worked as a Criminal Psychology professor. Between both of your hectic work schedules you hadn’t had a real weekend to yourselves in a few months, and while you knew when you first started dating Spencer that it was an inevitable of his job, it had never been this crazy before. They say evil never sleeps but lately it hasn't even taken a catnap.

“I love you Y/N. I promise I’ll come home to you soon and take you out on a real date. I’m sorry darling, I have to go. I’ll text you when I get to the hotel tonight and if you’re still up we can talk for a bit okay?”. “Alright Spence, I love you too. Stay safe okay?”. “I promise, goodbye love.”

Your farewell barely made it past your lips when the dial tone cut you off and once again your boyfriend of three years vanished from your side of the country. You let out an exasperated sigh before reminding yourself that there were other people who needed his help and that you could wait for his attention - at least until that night. Continuing the trek up the stairs of your and spencer’s shared apartment, you managed to haphazardly balance your grocery bags in one hand while unlocking the door and disabling the security alarm, internally cringing at the high shriek that rattled through your brain.

Walking through the living room, you sat the bags on your kitchen counter and began reorganizing the small fridge space to fit all the perishables you had brought home, absentmindedly hoping they wouldn't spoil now that it would be just you for several more days. Moving to the cupboard you replaced the few grab and go snack boxes you had made up to try and encourage Spencer to eat more throughout the day and refilled the paper plate stash that quickly became a requirement after you realized neither one of you could tolerate doing dishes every night. You ripped open the cardboard packaging of yet another microwave dinner and set the timer before leaving to change into more comfortable attire.

Opening the door of your shared bedroom, the smell of vanilla wax melts and dryer sheets hit you like a brick and immediately sent a pang of loneliness through your chest. Spencer was usually around by the time the chores needed done, and you rarely had to do them yourself. Unfortunately, the laundry was piling up and you needed something to distract you so you spent the day running errands and cleaning the apartment more thoroughly than necessary. You walked over to the stack of black dresser drawers and pulled out the first pair of pajama pants you touched, Spencer’s old caltech sweats that now fit you far better than him considering he had received them when he was 14. They looked more like capris on him now and it was embarrassingly difficult to convince him to buy a new pair that fit him properly. You slipped on a tank top and pulled your hair back before making your way lazily to the bathroom to take off the remnants of your simple makeup.

After scrubbing your face clean and pulling your dinner out, you moved to ready the couch for yet another night of binge watching cheesy 90s movies. You selected Clueless and watched the vibrant colors pop across the screen while you dived into your meal, making a poor attempt to ignore the slight freezer burnt taste that lingered after every bite. You finished your dinner and set the bowl aside before covering yourself with a blanket and allowing yourself to sink into the cushions, desperately awaiting Spencer's text.

You were jolted out of your doze by the loud buzzing of your phone against the wooden coffee table. Clumsily you reached for it and managed to swipe the answer pad before it sent your genius to voicemail. “Hello?” you managed before a yawn ripped its way through you suddenly. “Hey Y/N, I’m sorry it’s so late. I didn't mean to wake you, I figured you’d still be up. You should go back to bed love.” For the first time, you noticed the neon green numbers on the microwave. 12:30. You stifled another yawn and shook your head in an effort to wake yourself further “No way, I just dozed off while watching a movie. I was waiting to talk to you. Besides, I’m up now anyways so you might as well stay on with me for a bit. Did you get any further today?” “Well, JJ had the idea that the partners were originally a typical dominant/submissive partnership but that something in the dynamic must have changed because the MO began to deteriorate. We think the partners must have split up now, because we’re finding similar pieces of the previous MO at separate crime scenes.”.

You processed the information he fed you slowly due to your semiconscious state but eventually you put your words in order well enough to respond. “That should be helpful though yeah? I mean, they’re used to working in a partnership so being suddenly separated from your other half so to speak would throw you off track quite a bit right?”. You could practically hear him smiling through the phone as you drew the conclusions the team had come to only a few hours prior. “Yes. We’re hoping to be able to draw them out and trap them. Play them against each other.”.”Does that mean I can stop sleeping on the couch soon?”. You heard him let out a dejected sigh - you knew he hated that you would force yourself onto the cramped couch when you had a king sized bed a few hundred feet away but he understood.

When he had come home in the early hours of the morning after an abrupt end to a case a few weeks after you had moved into his place, he had caught you curled up on the sofa with a throw pillow stuffed under your head. When he questioned you about it the next morning, you simply answered that the bed felt too big without him and that you couldn’t stand the empty feeling. “Sooner than later I hope my love. Y/N I really wish you wouldn’t do that to yourself. It’s horrible for your body. It can put you at a much higher risk for chronic back and neck pain as well as-”. “Spence. I’m not a giant like you are. I fit on the couch much better than you do, and I barely notice the difference.”. You both cringed, hearing the lie clear in your voice. Still, Spencer must have felt bad because he humored you. “If you're sure. What did you do today my love?”. You smiled sadly hearing in his voice just how desperate he was to escape from his reality and come home to you.

”Well, I straightened the house. In fact, it’s so clean i think we could use it as a sterilization room.”. He let out a soft chuckle and you could hear him begin to relax as you recounted the rest of your day, excluding the part about the microwave dinner. Spencer loved to tell you how many of the ingredients were one step away from processed garbage and you decided to opt out of the lecture for the evening. He had more than enough to worry about without having to focus on your diet while he was away. After a half hour of light conversation, a loud yawn betrayed you as you were excitedly discussing the cute puppy you had met on the way to the market. Spencer immediately requested that you hang up and get some more sleep but you refused. After a few minutes of bickering, you relented on the condition that he would read to you until you had fallen asleep. You curled up under the fluffy blanket as Spencer’s even voice recited the collection of Grimm’s fairy tales quickly lured you to sleep.

You woke up the next morning as sunlight peered through the curtains, stretching your body out to ease the aches from the previous night. You smiled softly as your screen lit up with a text from Spencer wishing you a good morning and an update that they had a solid plan for boxing in the two unsubs that afternoon. “If all goes to plan I should be carrying you to our bed before midnight tonight.”. Your smile widened and you sent back “Can’t wait to truly see you - and love you- tonight. I’ll be waiting.” You plugged your phone into the charger and straightened up from the night before when your phone went off again. The one word message glared at you from the screen and you let out an involuntary giggle. “Tease.”. You hoped it gave him something to look forward to until he was back in your arms. You sent back a simple “XO” before deciding to reread one of your favorite books for a few hours to kill some time. You made yourself a sandwich for lunch and had a few glasses of water as the clock slowly ticked by. You were over halfway through the lengthy novel when you received another message.

“We apprehended both unsubs. Hotch is postponing the paperwork until Monday so we can go straight home. I’ll see you in a few hours baby.”. You jumped slightly in celebration before finishing your current chapter, marking your place, and all but skipping to the shower to shave and exfoliate your skin. You knew Spencer would still be heavily worked up once he arrived home and luckily, his favorite release included intertwining your bodies as close as possible and loving you sweetly and slowly.

You took your time in the shower careful not to nick yourself with your razor. You scrubbed your scalp with your nails, letting your stress and soreness melt away under the steam. You waited until the water ran cold before turning the knob and stepping out, wrapping yourself in a fluffy towel and blow drying your hair until it layed perfectly even. You applied lotion all over your skin and stepped out of the bathroom to slip on your black silk robe, knowing it wouldn’t be worth it to dress up further. Spencer would be desperate to feel your skin against his and any fabric in his way didn't stand much of a chance.

You made an actual meal for dinner, a pasta dish with chicken that could be easily reheated for Spencer when he grew hungry later in the night. You helped yourself to a serving and after quickly cleaning up the kitchen and storing the leftovers, you retreated to the bedroom to wait for his return.

You were half paying attention to the feed you opted to scroll through on your phone when you heard the door creak open and bags drop to the floor. You set your phone on the bedside table and ran towards the foyer, all but throwing yourself at the exhausted man in front of you. He took a step back from the impact but still enveloped you in his arms and pulled you impossibly tight into his chest. “Hi baby.” you whispered against the scruffy skin of his jawline, peppering kisses up towards his earlobe. He let out a long sigh of relief and picked you up off the hardwood floor, wrapping your thighs around his waist resulting in a high pitched giggle to erupt from your throat. He kissed you then, slowly at first but quickly building more passionate. Your lungs were burning when he finally allowed you to pull away, opting to kiss down your neck to your collarbones and the skin of your chest that was newly exposed as your robe slipped open.

He carefully made his way back to your room, continuing his kisses back up to your shoulder, stopping only to leave marks you knew would only grow darker as time passed. At the very least he was sure to only mark you in places you could cover with little difficulty. “I missed you so much Y/N. The entire ride home all I could think about was you waiting for me in our bed. My gorgeous girl.”. You felt your chest heat up at his words of admiration, wrapping your fingers into his curls and pulling his lips towards your own once more.

You felt him groan against you and moved to quickly unbutton his shirt, slipping it down his arms and tossing it in the general direction of the hamper. He pulled you up with him then, so you were both on your knees, chest to chest as he pulled your robe fully down your back to the swell of your ass where he grasped at you through the slick fabric. You let out a whine and you pulled his belt off, undoing his jeans desperate to continue. He grinned against your neck and pushed you down so you laid flat on your back, completely exposed to him. He kissed at your stomach, making his way down to your inner thighs. He licked a slow wet trail from your pelvic bone to the top of your clit as you whimpered desperately. “Spence, please… I need more”. He humored you, creating slow small circles with his tongue moaning at the taste. You cried out as he created the perfect amount of pressure on your clit, legs threatening to close around his head when he moved to slip one of his fingers easily inside you as the mix of your own wetness and his saliva aided him. He smirked as he felt your thighs flex before using his left hand to throw one of your legs over his shoulders at a time. He pushed a second finger in, curling them up to perfectly reach your g-spot with every thrust. Soon though, you grew impatient with just his fingers. You needed more and you knew just how to get it.

“I want you so bad Spence. I’ve waited for so long and I just can’t anymore. I need to feel you deep inside of me.”. You were positive those words would leave him just as needy as you were and he proved you right when he kicked his pants the rest of the way off and went to line himself up against you. “Wait.”. He stopped immediately, examining your face for any indication of what was wrong. “What’s the matter baby? Are you okay?”. You shook your head and smiled at his concern before switching your positions so his back was resting against the pillows as you straddle his thighs. He smirked at you as he caught on, trailing his hands up the front of your legs to rest at your hips. “You gonna ride me angel?”. You responded with an eager nod and he squeezed your hips, pulling you up further so you were hovering above him. “Sit pretty like my good girl then.”. You whined softly at his words before slowly sinking yourself down around his length, sucking in a harsh breath at the stretch. Even with how wet you were, the adjustment took longer than usual due to the dry spell you were both suffering from as of late.

When you finally felt stretched out enough to move, you slowly ground your hips forward flush against his. He groaned out, lifting you back up so you were almost completely off of him before pulling you back down. You moaned both at the sensation and the idea of being manhandled by the genius below you. You realized what he was asking though, and began bouncing yourself up and down his cock, stopping every few thrusts to grind your clit down on him. You let out soft moans, and after a few more minutes you felt his fingers dig deeper into your hips and his breaths quicken. You knew he was close and as if on cue you started rubbing fast circles against your clit as he spoke again.

“Baby girl I’m getting close. You gonna cum with me angel?” You nodded furiously in response and you felt him start thrusting up to meet you. You panted as you hurried towards the edge of your orgasm, holding on until his thrusts grew sloppier. “You ready to cum with me baby? You gonna cum on my cock?” “Yeah.. gonna cum all over your cock Doc.” You fought to keep the grin off your face when he moaned at the title. He thrusted deep into you twice, before he ordered your release. “I want you to cum now baby. Cum all over my cock.” You felt your orgasm rip through you, electricity shooting through your limbs. Spencer groaned loudly as you tightened around him before pulling you down deep and releasing inside you.

You both fought to catch your breath as you rode out your highs before you found yourself slumping against his chest, suddenly drained from your activities. You felt him chuckle at your drastic change in energy as he wrapped his arms around you again. “I know you just washed the bed sheets and we’re both sweaty but do you think a washcloth will suffice for tonight?”. You nodded against his chest before slowly lifting yourself up and off of him, rolling onto your back on the other side of the bed. Spencer swiftly made his way across the hall, returning to wipe you down gently with the warm fabric. You shivered as the cool air dried your skin, watching him move throughout your room.

He slipped on a fresh pair of boxers before tossing the washcloth in the hamper along with his previously discarded clothes. He hung your robe on the back of your bedroom door then flipped the light switch off before rejoining you in bed to slip under the blankets with you. You immediately curled up into his chest, sighing contently as the sound of his heartbeat filled your ears. You kissed his chest and whispered goodnight, drifting into your first real sleep since before he left.

The next morning you and Spencer went shopping after you successfully convinced him to upgrade to a smart phone with video call abilities. He had begun to shut down the idea as he always had before but after the mere suggestion of what it could do to better your late night hotel room chats he was the one pulling you towards the nearest phone shop. You smiled politely while Spencer took his sweet time weighing the pros and cons of each model, letting your mind drift to the first time it would come in handy. As you finally neared the checkout counter, you took Spencer's hand in your own and gave it a gentle squeeze. After running his card through the machine, the salesgirl gave him the small plastic bag and wished you both a good afternoon.

As you exited the shop, you looked up at him, nudging him to get his attention “What do you think of an app controlled vibrator?”. He stared at you incredulously for a few moments, almost stopping dead in his tracks. After recovering from the initial shock at the vulgarity of your suggestion, he shook his head with a soft smirk and nudged back against you. “Tease.” he called you once more. “That’s the reason you love me right?”. He pulled you into his side, kissing you softly. “One of many Y/N. One of many.”

#spencer reid #Spencer reid/reader #spencer reid/you #Spencer reid x reader #Spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds #cm #Spencer reid smut #smut #Spencer reid x you #Spencer reid fanfiction

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keelywolfe · 3 years

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FIC: Knick Knack Paddy Whack (BAON)

Summary: As far as Stretch is concerned, there's only one solution when you're addicted to thrift stores. Selling all the crap you bought so you can buy more!

Notes: Stepping outside of the main storyline for a moment, we'll get back to the aftermath we're all expecting in a moment. 😁

Tags: Spicyhoney, Established Relationships, Domestic Fluff

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

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Read it on AO3

Read it here!

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Stretch was a bonafide thrift-a-holic, he honestly was, and he knew it. It was an important thing to know about yourself, really, because certain problems arose from bad case of oooh-shiny-itis.

Sure, one ceramic zombie hand thrusting up from the dresser to hold his rings and change was an awesome thing to behold, but an entire collection of zombie hands was a tough sell to the person you were living with, especially if that person was Edge. Not that he’d managed to find a collection of zombie hands and if he had, that thrift store would have been on the weekly check list, for sure. But the same premise applied to ‘zombie hand plus an entire horde of other bizarre ceramics surrounding it’.

Stretch wasn’t bitter about the limitations when it came to his collection, nah, he got it. There were certain things you couldn’t ask for from the person you love, and a house filled up with weird tchotchkes that looked like they belonged to the grandmother of the chainsaw massacre family was a step too far. Plus, asking Edge for more space would be unfair. He’d either agree because he didn’t want to tell Stretch no, or he’d say no and feel bad about it. Nah, the set of porcelain dragons playing instruments in a rock band he’d found wasn’t that important, not if it gave Edge a case of the guilts.

Problem was, Stretch really couldn’t resist sometimes. How was he supposed to turn away a wedding painting of Yoda and Kermit the frog? Or a coffee mug with a penguin orgy on it? He couldn’t, that’s how, but his allotted space was filling up in the house proper and soon he’d started to amass quite the collection in his lab, too. It was when the overflow expanded enough to start infringing on his erlenmeyer flasks that he decided he needed a new strategy. Science waited for no one and definitely not anything with the word ‘taxidermy’ included.

That’s when Stretch came up with the plan. Okay, it wasn’t a plan, exactly, more like a flash in the pants of brief inspiration, but hell, he’d been flying by on those his entire life, why stop now?

One of the places he frequented was an antique mall, which was a fancy way of saying one rung on the ladder above actual thrift store, except they rented stalls for people to sell their stuff, so maybe it was more like a glorified garage sale. People carted in their junk for other people to buy and the cashier up front handled all the transactions. Minimal time, minimal effort, that was exactly what he and his kitsch needed, so Stretch went ahead and rented a stall of his own.

The not-exactly-a-plan worked out pretty well. He could buy something at the thrift shop and proudly display it for a while around the house, and then when it came time to replace it with a new find, he’d add it to his stall and whatever money came from it, he donated to the local kid’s charity that the Antique Mall supported. That meant he got in his kicks and joy without looking like a prequel to a Hoarders episode and Edge only had to deal with the octopus tentacle ashtray for a few weeks.

Seriously, it was a win-win all the way around.

A few things did take up permanent residence, of course; he couldn’t give up his zombie hand. But so long as it wasn’t a clown, (clowns were disposed of by Edge immediately and with great prejudice), he was allowed things like his nested Matryoshka dolls of Nicolas Cages for a time.

About once a week he went down to add new things to his stall, mostly during the weekday hours when the buses were on the empty side and he could take up an extra seat with his box of additions. It wasn’t exactly a secret, Andy came along a few times to help, but he never really mentioned it to Edge. Not until today when Stretch realized he’d let things go a little too long and he had some extra boxes to haul down.

Better to take care of it while he was thinking about it, otherwise it tended to turn into an endless cycle of ‘oh, I should do that today’ and him forgetting, but aside from the extra lugging required, it was also Saturday and the bus would be loaded. Hitching a ride would be required, plus a little extra muscle, and his husband was his favorite source for both.

He found Edge in the kitchen, sitting at their temporary table with his laptop and yeah, it was Saturday, time to drag him away from whatever bullshit work he was doing. Stretch put on his best wheedling face and asked, “babe? can you give me a lift today?”

“Of course.” Edge didn’t look up, what a total waste of Stretch’s beguiling charms. His gloved fingertips were soft against the keyboard as he finished whatever he was typing before glancing up at Stretch, and maybe his schmoozing wasn’t entirely wasted; the way Edge closed the lid on his laptop spoke of a guilty conscious for working on his day off. “Where are we going?”

“downtown,” Stretch tucked his hands into his pockets and rocked on his heels. “i need to hit up my junk and disorderly shop.”

That got him a pause, “Your what?”

“heh, you’ll see.” Stretch curled a finger at Edge in a ‘come hither’ motion that his husband didn’t follow, only watched suspiciously. “c’mon, i need you to help me carry some stuff.”

“This ride is starting to sound less like transport and more like a chore.” But Edge followed him to the basement for the boxes, and, surprise surprise, his willingness to help went up a few notches from wary to eager when he figured out what Stretch was doing. Eh, couldn’t blame him. At the top of the pile was a plush frog with the top hat that played ‘hello my baby’ whenever you pushed on its foot, something Red did every single time he walked past it, plus anytime he’d felt like shortcutting in for a quick press. Time to let it damage the sanity of another family.

The boxes were tossed into the trunk of Edge’s car, frog and all, and soon they were on the road, heading downtown. Truth be told, Stretch wasn’t sure what Edge would make of the place. He tolerated thrift stores well enough, but the antique mall was a different kind of beast. An entire building of obscure collections cluttered together into eclectic displays that others were trying to barter and sell.

There were stalls filled with milk crates of old records, shelves and shelves of antique glassware and dishes. Some stalls had vintage clothing, feathery boas mixed in with disco pants and ruffled aprons. Old instruments, rusty farm equipment, strange kitchen gadgets that looked more dangerous than useful, this place had everything and then some.

Plus, the mall had a certain sort of smell, a musty, dusty scent verging on decay that settled into the sinuses and hung around for a while. Stretch thought it was the smell of a life well-lived and he kinda liked it; after years of thrifting, he associated it with finding treasures, but who knew if Edge felt the same. His tastes in smells (heh) ran more to clean and green, not old-timey funk. Could be it reminded him of shower mildew.

Whatever his opinion of the odors, Edge kept it to himself. He helped with the box carrying and checked out Stretch’s stall curiously but didn’t say much. Probably recognized the stuff on the shelves as having once been on a table or Stretch’s nightstand, until the glee wore off and it ended up gathering dust in the basement. He wandered off at some point, heading into the depths of the mall, and left Stretch to restock his meagre wares.

It took longer than he’d expected. Since he’d opened up his stall, not everything Stretch found thrifting found its way into the house proper anymore. Some of it he bought as a straight-to-video option and he was getting pretty good at finding interesting doodads at the thrifty places that might sell better here, location, location, location, that was the ticket.

Stretch always priced his junk reasonably, usually not much more than he’d paid for it. Wasn’t like he needed the money, and besides, Stretch knew himself pretty damn well, therapy did that to a guy. At the end of the day, he knew what this was really about; all an elaborate scheme to satisfy the inner packrat in his soul that struggled sometimes with giving things away.

Bartering had been built in him before he could say the word; in the Underground, he’d gotten damn good at getting deals for what he could scrounge at the dump. This was the same thing, really, just with slightly different stakes. Dinner wasn’t riding on his latest stash of dvds anymore, always a plus, and these days he could simply look at the empty shelves, content in the knowledge that his Smeagol cardboard cutout had found a new home.

Hey, therapy wasn’t the only way to work out a few kinks in your internal lines.

When the last box was emptied, Stretch wandered up to the front desk to give the lady who ran the front register his new inventory list. That was when he heard it.

There was an old piano up front with a sign on it that said, ‘Do not ‘play’ if you cannot play’. Most of the time it sat silently but someone up there was giving it a good try today. The notes were slower, with obvious hesitations as the player searched for the correct keys, but the song was one Stretch knew. Gently melancholy, a match to the cautious playing.

His curiosity piqued, Stretch wandered over to watch and he wasn’t entirely surprised to see Edge sitting on the piano bench, his attention on his hands as he slowly played. It was a tough choice between watching him play and simply listening to the song and Stretch found himself trying to do both. The uncertain skill in hands he knew so well as they coaxed the music free.

When the last note faded, a faint smattering of applause came from the different stalls around them. Stretch waited for it to end before sitting on the bench next to Edge.

Quietly, Stretch said, “i didn’t know you played.”

“I don’t,” Edge said. He smoothed a hand over the keys, not pressing down, simply touching them. “Not really. I can’t read music, but I know a song or two by rote. A friend of mine pushed me to memorize them.”

Welp, Stretch didn’t have to ask what friend, now did he. An old friend back in another world, and people weren’t replaceable even if they wore the same face. He didn’t say anything, didn’t need to; Stretch understood in a way only a few people could, and he settled a hand on Edge’s leg, squeezing his knee gently.

“that was really good,” Stretch offered, “you have a good memory, babe.”

“Some of my memories are better than others,” Edge said. The words were more contemplative than sorrowful, and he didn’t look at Stretch, only touched the back of his hand briefly with his gloved fingertips. “You tend to feature in the best ones, love.”

He reached for the keys again and started to play. The song was more confident this time, bright and cheery, with only the occasional missed note. A handful of other people drifted over, some pausing to watch and some moving on, going about their day with a song to carry them along.

Stretch only tapped his toes and listened as Edge played, more than willing to let him go on until he was ready to stop. If Edge wanted to take a brief dive into the past, then the antique mall was a place for it, where memories and times past mingled with the present.

Besides, a new memory to take home was better than any knickknack.

-fin

Note: The first song Edge was playing was 'Clair de Lune' by Debussy and the second was 'The Entertainer' by Scott Joplin. In case you were wondering. 😁

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #by any other name

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forevercloudnine · 3 years

Text

batman forever riddlebat ship meme

(This one was inevitable. God, do I love this movie. @heroes-etc gave me questions from this ship meme.)

2. Who is the most insecure and what makes them feel better?

The obvious answer here is Edward because he is... clearly and pathologically insecure in his identity and requiring outside approval. You could argue he gets over this once he adopts his flamboyant supervillain identity, but as soon as he steps out of it to be Edward Nygma again he’s as self-conscious as ever. On some level his Bruce cosplay at the Nygmatech party is probably supposed to be a dig at his former idol, but it’s pretty transparent that he’s paranoid about not measuring up, especially once Bruce actually walks in.

As for what makes him feel better, two obvious high points of his self-esteem right off the bat (lol) are when Bruce is giving him positive attention in his intro scene, and directly afterwards when he’s murdering his boss for ragging on him.

Of course, neither external validation or murder is, like, a permanent solution to insecurity. Obviously. If they ever got together Bruce would probably make him go to therapy, which would be incredibly hypocritical because, as Dr. Meridian points out in this movie, that’s not exactly something Bruce is doing. Although in Bruce’s defense, if you count the novelizations as canon for this continuity, the psychiatrist Alfred hired for him as a child basically wrote him off as a lost cause that was going to inevitably self-destruct at some point in adulthood. So I can see why he’d think therapy isn’t for him.

"Young Bruce may seem quite the stalwart, but there’s still a child beneath that veneer of calm acceptance [...] The day will come when that veneer crumbles, and the boy reacts to the memory of his ordeal. Such matters may be postponed, but not indefinitely. And the longer this one is delayed, the greater the damage will be to his psyche.”

“Still,” Alfred pressed. “How do you think this will all come out? Off the record, if you prefer.”

Another pause. “I am not terribly optimistic,” the stout man admitted. “But I assure you, I will do my best.”

Alternatively, Bruce just lets Edward borrow his clothes and calls it a day. It’s less time consuming than therapy and both the movie and novelization demonstrate how into that Edward is.

He was murmuring to himself, “We’ll probably be dining at Wayne Manor together.” He envisioned Bruce sitting across from him, and began to launch into a narrative [...] “Yes. Yes. A Party in my honor? I should have rented a tuxedo. What?” he couldn’t believe it, “One of yours, Bruce?” He gave it a moment’s thought and then shrugged. “Why not? We are the same size.”

3. Who is the most romantic?

Uh, not Bruce! Batman Forever is the most thoughtfully romantic he gets in the entire series, and even here his only two dates ideas are “whatever Gotham social event my secretary tells me I need a date for” and “coming on to my date in my alternate identity to see if she loves me enough not to cheat on me with Batman.” Also, he vacillates between staunchly refusing to do any flirting at all and dishing out the least romantic pick-up lines possible.

You say “bad writing,” I say “totally in character for a hot rich guy who knows that this is as hard as he has to try to get into someone’s pants.” Bruce might love his partner with the intensity of a thousand dying suns, but he’s still sending Alfred to buy all their Valentine’s Day presents. His idea of a romantic evening for two is finally trusting someone enough to tell them his secret identity. If he’s done that already, or they already figured it out, then his playbook is over. That’s clearly the only romantic fantasy he’s ever allowed himself.

(I was going to say he does this once every movie, but he actually never does this in Batman & Robin specifically because he doesn’t actually care about Julie Madison. She proposes to him and he gets her name wrong while shooting her down. Add that to the “Bruce Wayne isn’t romantic” box.)

The ridiculous amount of magazine cut-outs populating Edward’s apartment indicates that he probably has a very vibrant and extensive set of fantasies involving Bruce, which is hinted at a couple times in the novelization.

Edward would certainly know him when he saw him. He’d spent enough time anticipating the moment, after all [...] Finally he was going to be meeting Bruce Wayne face-to-face, and he had every moment of the encounter scripted [...] He’d rehearsed it to perfection in his mind for weeks upon months.

In the grand scheme of things... in the fabulous, sweeping, intertwining destinies of Bruce Wayne and Edward Nygma, such a slip would not even rate a footnote.

He becomes suddenly and painfully aware that if Bruce Wayne walked away without Edward Nygma by his side, then that would be it. It would be finished. All these weeks, months... indeed, a lifetime of planning... and it was crumbling under him just like that.

Of course, that doesn’t necessarily mean his fantasies are all romantic in the traditional sense of the word. This is a man who was charmed by Harvey holding a charity circus hostage with some kind of graffitied missile warhead. Tonally, there’s not even that much of a difference between his crush collages and his riddle death threats.

What’s weirder, using a magazine cutout of someone you hate to make a pop-up card of their face, or using a magazine cutout of someone you love to replace the anatomically correct heart in the cardiovascular system diagram you keep in your apartment/arcade/makeshift laboratory? Probably the former, since it was made with the express purpose of Bruce actually seeing it. Although presumably Edward was planning on taking Bruce to his apartment at some point? And in the novelization, he actually drags Bruce into his cubicle to look at his Wayne Shrine.

He grabbed Bruce’s arms and shouted “No, don’t leave me! I need you!” [...] Bruce was thunderstruck as he was pulled partway into Edward’s office... and then he caught sight of the shrine.

Edwards’s head bobbed eagerly. Now, finally, Bruce would understand the depth of Nygma’s devotion to his idol. He would see how important he was to Nygma.

Notably, the only thing that upsets Bruce about the fact that one of his employees has a serial killer wall dedicated to him at their work station (@heroes-etc: realistically.... IS this the first time this has happened? i doubt it.) is the fact that the shrine includes a picture of him taken directly after his parents’ death, which is obviously a huge trigger for Bruce’s PTSD.

Wayne’s gaze zeroed in on the picture of himself as a young man.

The eyes of Wayne the elder locked with Wayne the younger, and when he slowly turned his scrutiny back to Edward Nygma, Edward could feel the temperature in the cubicle drop to subzero.

Later, once Bruce isn’t being actively reminded of the most traumatizing day of his life, he reflects that he could probably relate to Edward’s specific brand of crazy, and hopes that it’s not too late to try again (it is).

He paused momentarily at Edward Nygma’s cubicle, thinking about the intensity he’d seen in the man’s eyes the other day. Nygma’s ideas might have been a bit odd, but that sort of passion—if properly channeled—could accomplish miracles. That was something Bruce Wayne certainly knew better than anyone else. Perhaps after this fiasco was the time to take Nygma aside under less-pressured circumstances. Start again...

With any other character, I would call bull on their being this unphased by someone being obsessed enough with them to build a stalker shrine, but, like. It’s Batman. He probably has a stalker shrine to Michelle Pfeiffer Catwoman in his cave somewhere. When they start dating, Edward mails the weirdest magazine cutout valentines to his office on the regular, and every time Bruce has to assure his staff that it’s not a ransom letter and it’s just “his boyfriend being romantic.”

9. What is the most embarrassing thing they have done in front of each other?

I mean, by most people’s standards, any one of the things that Edward does in front of Bruce could easily be the most embarrassing thing to happen to them in their lifetime. But for the most part, Edward seems blissfully free of that kind of self-consciousness. He accidentally introduces himself to Bruce as “[extended moaning sound] Bruce Wayne” and shakes it off without even registering his mistake. Even when he feels like Bruce has rejected him and his project, his emotional state is more shocked, saddened, and angry than it is ashamed. He does apologize to Bruce, during the scene where they first meet, for holding on to his hand too long during their handshake. And by “handshake” I mean that Bruce extends his hand to be shaken, and Edward just grabs on and holds it without any motion whatsoever for the entire first half of their conversation. Which might be the only time he ever apologizes in the entire movie. So I’ll say that was his moment of embarrassment.

Bruce only really embarrasses himself in front of Alfred, but Edward does manage to trick Bruce into getting scanned by his mind reading device at the Nygmatech party. Being tricked in general would be pretty awkward for Bruce, since this movie goes out of its way to show the audience how SMART and CLEVER and KNOWLEDGEABLE ABOUT BRAINWAVES Bruce is at every opportunity. But being tricked into getting your mind read is about a million times more embarrassing than just running into a wall like some kind of Looney Tune. Obviously having access to Bruce’s mind allows Edward to figure out that his former boss/current obsessee is Batman, but also it’s just got to be super weird in there. Bruce is a bizarre man.

12. What first changes when it starts getting serious?

Whether he’s idolizing Bruce or plotting his destruction, Edward is still seeing the subject of his lifelong obsession as a larger than life exaggeration of the real man. Some of that pedestal would probably survive into the beginning of a romantic relationship, but by the time they got serious Edward would have had to recognize that Bruce has both positive and negative traits. He would also have had to grapple with the fact that the man he once assumed would make everything in his life better is a lot of work to be around, especially in this movie’s continuity where the trauma of his family’s death and his guilt over allowing enemies like Joker to die are genuinely affecting Bruce’s day-to-day functionality.

(A lot of things, Chase.)

Edward’s introduction scene demonstrates that he doesn’t see Bruce as having these kinds of problems. His Escapism Wish Fulfillment Device TM is clearly a very personal project for him, since he, you know. Is kind of already living in a Bruce-centric fantasy world.

When he’s pitching it to Bruce, however, he states that he doesn’t think someone like Bruce would ever need to escape reality (which could just be ingratiating flattery, but he barely seems aware of what he’s saying at the time because he’s too busy staring with his mouth open at Bruce putting on glasses).

(Side note: an interjection from @heroes-etc

Anyway, moving on.)

Obviously we know he’s wrong, since Bruce escapes his reality every night by dressing up like a bat and scaring people. Normally that’s just subtext (or me being cynical and creating subtext), but Batman Forever introduced a hot psychiatrist who is constantly poking at Batman for being a power fantasy created by a traumatized mind to cope with intense feelings of helplessness in childhood.

The novelization makes it clear that it’s not the illusion of perfection that Edward is attracted to, however. The picture of Bruce in Crime Alley is what kickstarts Edward’s obsession, not because Bruce seemed flawless but because he seemed to be going through similar pain as Edward (whatever Edward’s pain even IS in this continuity). So I think recognizing Bruce’s issues would be less of a dealbreaker and more of a point of connection, were they to get serious.

He saw, there in Bruce Wayne’s face, an intensity that mirrored his own. An anger, a frustration at the hand that fate had dealt him. There were no tears on Bruce’s face. Instead there was a smoldering intelligence that Edward intuitively sensed was on par with his own.

There was something in Bruce’s eyes, something in that gaze. There was Bruce, in a moment of raw emotion, his parents just having been cruelly taken from him. And there was no self-pity. Just cold, hard anger.

[...] Ed still had the newspaper with him when he was walking home from school. Not that he needed it to read; the contents were safely locked away in his skull, thanks to his photographic memory. But he wanted to clip out the articles and pictures about Bruce Wayne. He found the young man fascinating, as if he had discovered a soulmate of sorts.

For Bruce, on the other hand, getting serious presumably just means attempting to include Edward more and more in the found family he builds in the latter half of the 90’s Batman movies. Alfred approving a love interest is not quite as tantamount in this continuity as it is sometimes (Micheal Gough Alfred is pretty laid back), but Bruce is still spending all of his non-Batman, non-socialite time with his butler. So if Edward wants to hang out with Bruce, he has to either get on Alfred’s good side or prepare for a lot of “romantic quality time” where his boyfriend’s dad is glaring at him from the background.

Dick is less important to get on the good side of, since he and Bruce argue all the time in these movies (apparently one of the proposed scripts for Batman & Robin was Bruce kicking Dick out of the house and making him go to college, where Dick would cope with his dad-related anger by bullying his psychology professor Dr. Crane into becoming a supervillain. I personally feel like I deserved to see that Scarecrow origin). So if Dick doesn’t like Bruce’s new boyfriend, it’s just one more thing for them to be catty to each other about.

Alfred’s niece Barbara Wilson on the other hand (who is adorable as a fusion of Barbara Gordon and Julia Pennyworth, do not @ me) would be absolutely vital for Edward to win over, because her opinion could easily either make or break his standing with her uncle. Also Bruce decided to adopt her within five minutes of meeting her, so he’s obviously fond.

19. Where do they go on their first date?

Edward’s fantasy sequence in the novelization makes it obvious enough that he would really, really like to have dinner at Wayne Manor. Hanging out at someone’s house isn’t really a traditional first date, especially if one of you is a billionaire who could have taken you literally anywhere, but clearly none of that matters to Bruce, because that’s exactly the first date he invites Vicki Vale on in Batman (1989).

It’s pretty painfully awkward (“You want to know the truth? I don’t think I’ve ever been in this room before”) until Bruce gives up on the formality and takes her down to eat the rest of their courses with Alfred in the kitchen.

I feel like his first date with Edward could probably go the same way, with a few major differences. One, Edward would have been super enthused about eating in the fancy dining hall, and Bruce would have only suggested finishing their meal in the kitchen because Edward clearly wanted to see As Much Of The Manor As Possible. Two, when Alfred offers to stop embarrassing Bruce and leave them alone for the end of their date, Edward would have insisted he stay and break out the baby albums. You cannot convince me that Alfred is not a scrapbooker. Actually, does what Edward’s doing count as scrapbooking? Maybe they could compare notes.

#riddlebat #batman forever #edward nygma #riddler #bruce wayne #batman #ship meme #i do not actually recommend reading the novelization because it did chase so dirty i still seethe about it sometimes #but it did make edward pretty fucking gay #now the batman & robin novelization i recommend wholeheartedly #because for some reason bruce has a huge crush on mr. freeze #like literally bruce stalked him for a while in his 20's #and his internal narration is constantly monologueing about how handsome victor is #truly george clooney batman is canon gay

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madamewriterofwrongs · 3 years

Note

Hi CJ you're lovely. Today's been kind of a shit day. So I'm gonna prompt you if that's okay? Would you write some Eddie or Buck has a bad day and Chris + the one who didn't have a bad day is all about giving the comfort and the hugs and just being there? (rydergrace)

I’m sorry this took so long, and I’m so sorry you had a shitty day. I’m honored you would come to me and I sincerely hope this helps <3

For @rydergrace

He wished there was a reasonable explanation for why he felt the way he did. The sun was shining, he had a wonderful family, he loved his job, but try as he might: Eddie couldn’t muster the energy required to smile for more than a few minutes at a time.

Perhaps it had been the phone call from his parents last week wondering how Christopher was since they never saw him anymore. Perhaps it was getting the second notice from the bank that his credit card payments were late. Perhaps it was getting a knot in the line as he prepared to repel to the fifteenth story to save a victim (easily repaired, but he should have caught it sooner). Perhaps it was none of those things or some unholy combination that had him leaning against the steering wheel of his truck – an impulsive purchase that became a constant reminder of yet another one of his failings – unable to walk inside his own house.

Inside, there was his husband and his son who were both home from school and eager to hear all about his day. They would have dinner on the table and Christopher would ramble on about all the things he’d learned, while Buck would hide his smile when he had a related story to tell so as to not interrupt the boy.

Inside, the lights would be on, filling the world with a warm, orange glow that might have the power to chase the darkness from his mind. But what if it couldn’t? What if he couldn’t leave these feelings at the door until he could better deal with them in the safety of his bedroom? He never hid his feelings from either of them, never lied when things got hard, but he hated being a burden. He hated that he had so many emotions to sort through at the end of the day. He hated feeling that he would ruin the light by simple existing with the people he loved.

So, he held out on going inside for as long as possible. Let the sadness drift away quietly until it was something more easily contained and then he could face his family.

He spent so much time with his forehead pressed against the steering wheel, trying to push away the darkness, that he didn’t hear the front door open. Nor did he hear it close. He missed when it opened again and two figures approached the back of the truck and gently placed a few items in the bed. He only looked up when he heard a gentle rapping at his window.

Shame and adoration made him nauseous at seeing Buck and Christopher waving from outside. With every fibre of his being, Eddie loved those two, and that trumped anything he was feeling. He opened the door without a second thought, his smile barely reaching his cheeks let alone his eyes.

“Hey guys. What are you doing out here?” His voice crackled as though he hadn’t spoke in hours (and, upon reflection, he hadn’t) and it served as a reminder that two of the happiest people he knew were saddled with him for life.

In lieu of a direct answer, Buck outstretched his hand in offering and tilted his head towards the back of the truck. “Come on.”

Eddie took Buck’s hand in his and rose from his seat. It was a promise they’d made years ago, in front of their friends and family, through smiling tears. I will go wherever you lead.

Christopher smiled up at him and a small sliver of darkness evaporated. He’d always known that his son was his own personal miracle, but the wonders he was able to perform never ceased to amaze him. The firefighter placed a hand on the back of his son’s neck and absorbed the warmth and love against his skin. With one hand on his husband and one on his son, Eddie allowed himself to be lead away from his hiding spot (more shame swirled in his chest at his own admission).

In his dreams, the sadness evaporated when he reached the truck bed. In reality, his smile was lopsided as he held the tears at bay with sheer force of will.

“We made a picnic.” Christopher declared, already tossing his crutches against the side so he could pull himself up. He was growing stronger every day. The boy was stubborn like his father and hopeful like his Buck. He was resourceful and kind and imaginative and his whole damn world.

And he’d made a picnic for his dad.

Beside him, Buck squeezed his hand, drawing his eye away from his son and into the eyes of the man who was his moon; a gravity he couldn’t explain, brightening his night, forever a part of his life no matter how hard he’d tried to deny it.

He loved the moon.

Part of him expected Buck to question him: why hadn’t he come inside? What was wrong with him? Why couldn’t he be happy?

“I love you.” The man whispered, and Eddie held tighter to keep from releasing his emotions in one fell swoop. Instead, he tugged Buck’s hand and the two of them climbed into the truck beside their son.

They had laid a blanket from behind the couch against the floor (though it did nothing to protect them from the uneven surface and cold steal), and placed one pillow for each head at the edge of the blanket. In the corner was a pizza box and three bottles of water and on any other night, Eddie might have scolded his boys for ordering out when they would all be home at a descent hour but tonight, he was simply grateful not to do the dishes. Thankfull, Eddie spotted Buck’s laptop before he nearly sat on it – it would have meant another purchase he couldn’t afford, and the darkness crept in just a little more.

Then Christopher climbed into his lap as he sat against the truck, and his vision narrowed to the four corners surrounding him. Buck pulled open his laptop, scooting in beside his family, opening their shared Netflix account. While his husband searched, Eddie found himself mesmerized by his son’s hair. With every day – despite the Texas and then California sun – it grew darker, but he was forever the golden child. His curls were as soft as the day he’d first run his fingers through them, and they still smelled liked home. The scent itself had changed over the years; first, it was the ‘new baby’ smell that everyone talked about, then honey and baby powder, then some grassy concoction his parents had used for gentle skin, then he smelled like Eddie because it was easier to buy one giant bottle of shampoo. Now, he smelled like homemade crafts and burnt toast and skinned knees and the springtime laughter whenever Buck pushed him on the swings.

A little of the darkness subsided.

He was pulled from his contemplation by the sound of the company’s logo flashing red as he realized the movie was starting.

“What did you pick?” He reached the hand not combing his son’s hair and grabbed the pizza box to place between them.

Instantly, Buck picked up his first slice. “Something good, don’t worry. We’ve seen it a million times.”

Well, that could be any number of movies. Both he and Buck had what they liked to call ‘comfort movies’ that they could recite by heart but still watched on a recursive loop whenever the mood struck. They were perfect for a night like this.

Soon enough, his mind wandered away again, this time drifting no where in particular. Instead of a long list of his failings, there was the ominous understanding in his chest that something was wrong – that he was missing something. For the life of him, he couldn’t figure out what it was but it clawed at the walls of his ribcage until he struggled to breathe.

He could feel Buck kiss the underside of his ear, a secret place he only touched when they were quietly in love. Eddie turned and saw the concern hiding inside the affection but still, his husband didn’t ask any questions. In truth, he didn’t want him to. He knew Buck had every right to ask but he had no answers. But Buck never asked so he never had to wander into the darkness. It crept up behind him instead.

They ate pizza that grew cool in the California night air. They ate long after it grew cold. They watched a movie they loved well and when that movie ended, they watched another one. When Christopher began to shiver, Buck produced a spare blanket and wrapped the trio inside it. When the pizza was gone, the urge to remain upright grew less. By the end of the second movie, all three were laying on the bed of the truck, pillows under heads, laptop propped on Eddie’s belly since he was in the middle.

He knew the instant Christopher nodded off, feeling the weight on his shoulder suddenly double as the boy curled into his side. Even if his arm weren’t trapped beneath the sleeping body, he wouldn’t have moved for anything. Buck seemed to notice as well, because he decreased the volume just enough that they could still hear it in the silence between them.

As the third movie began, Eddie let his head fall to the side, eyes more focused on the man beside him than anything on the screen. He loved this man; it had never been something he expected to happen but it was as true today as it was the day he looked at his best friend and realized he wanted to spend his life with him. And for some inexplicable reason, Buck loved him just as fiercely (of that, he had no doubt).

Nothing his mind could conjure would ever erase the love he held for the two people in his arms.

Perhaps he should have been embarrassed to be caught staring at his husband but the only thing that passed his lips was a whispered “thank you” as he craned his neck to kiss him without disturbing the boy who’d captured his right arm completely.

They didn’t sleep in the truck – despite Buck’s quiet protests that it would be fine. Instead, Eddie carried his son inside while his husband packed up their meager picnic. As he placed one final kiss on Christopher’s forehead, tucking him under the covers, he sent a silent thank you to whoever had granted him such a precious gift.

By the time he reached the bedroom, Buck was in their bathroom, so he changed into his pajamas and went about shutting the house for the night. Buck met him in the doorway, arm reaching for him the way it had outside the truck.

I will go wherever you lead.

Falling into Buck’s embrace was the easiest thing he’d ever done. Being surrounded by him was a safe haven he never knew existed and he treasured with his entire being. Buck was solid and warm (some nights he had to physical remove his husband from his side because he thought he might boil to death in his arms). The steady beating of his heart could be heard when he tucked into his neck and just breathed. It was all he could bring himself to do but it didn’t matter. Being held by Buck was so easy because he trusted him to never let go.

For a decade, Eddie stayed within the safety of his husband’s arms and with each passing moment, he felt the world loosen its grip on his shoulders. The darkness still lingered. It would never truly abate but Eddie was never left to face it alone. Even when he was a stubborn ass about expressing his emotions (as Lena had told him with a punch to the shoulder), he had ways of fending off the darkness.

He had the smell of honey and baby powder, he had the steady beating of his husband’s heart, and he had pizza in the back of the truck with the two people who meant the most to him.

Everything would be okay.

#cj writes things #rydergrace #love jamie #if you squint this is k teacher buck #i hope you don't mind

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lovelyirony · 4 years

Note

'i’m the best worst thing that hasn’t happened to you yet' - for winter13 please? :)

Winter Soldier is a freelancer now. It’s surprising given the ironclad grip that Hydra had held over him, but it was...nice. To escape from their grasp, to be on the run and choosing jobs for himself. There was no RSVP checkpoint, no orders that had to be exact.

He got a job, executed it well (forgive the pun), and sometimes had coffee afterwards.

Of course, he took jobs from all over. As long as payment was discreet and so was the job, people were happy to pay a man who had once been a machine.

Jobs from all over meant that there were always requirements. He had no problem disposing of members of Hydra, but SHIELD was a bit trickier. Winter Soldier reserved the right to refuse a job, and had countless times now.

(Countless. Almost made him giddy.)

Agent Thirteen. The newest assignment.

The hit came from someone inside SHIELD. Which isn’t as suspicious as most would think. SHIELD is many things, but thorough is not always one of them. There are people that slip through the cracks because they get a second chance, something that Barnes thinks they could learn from ever since Jasper Sitwell has become...ill-disposed of. And Pierce has died mysteriously with files about Hydra’s involvement plastered to his chest.

But Agent Thirteen is born-and-bred into SHIELD. Her great-aunt was the leader of it all, and she ruled with iron in her bones and a heart that cared genuinely. She stayed late nights at the office, kept a knife on her at all times, and was...surprising.

There was a reason Hydra laid as low as it did throughout the years.

He had heard that Agent Thirteen lived up to the expectations set upon her. But he wasn’t sure that she was deserving of the fate that someone else had in store for her.

So he decides to move next door. Whoever was living there has moved out, so he’s moving in as Jim Wetzel. Typical first name, not last. SHIELD is the absolute queen of taking generic names, having a “just-moved-in” neighbor that’s a little too tense, a little too observant.

Jim Smith wouldn’t do. Jim Smith is too generic. No one names their kid Jim Smith anymore, it’s like sirens wailing loudly.

So he’s Jim Wetzel. He shakes with his right hand, smiles at the woman who says her name is Kate--it most definitely isn’t--and they exchange pleasantries.

“When did you hear about the place? It seemed awfully...fast,” Thirteen says.

“A friend of a friend knows some people a couple floors down, got the message from them,” Jim says with a shrug. “And now here I am. How long have you been here?”

“Almost a year now,” she responds kindly. “Keep an eye out for the washer on the left, I don’t trust it.”

“Good advice,” Jim says with a laugh. “See you around, Kate.”

Kate. What a bad name in the mouth. He’s not sure if it just sounds fake or if it’s because he knows she’s not a Kate.

He has never really moved in before. Not at this level, not for this long. He has furniture, and he went to the thrift store and bought an eclectic collection of plates and mugs, most of which are very weird. One mug might be cursed, he’s not sure yet.

Then he sets up shop. SHIELD’s hours run from six a.m. to about eight at night, or later if you’re a very good employee. Or a very bad one. Either way, Sharon may stay later. So he has ample time to place bugs.

The problem is that she will know all the typical places. Under the television, underneath the bed. (Which he wouldn’t do anyway, because you get...interesting noises.)

So he has to be sneaky with places, think outside the box.

Her apartment really is quite nice. Tasteful decorations, small portraits that are obviously faked. He finds her guns and knives, and one set of poison darts that are innocuously disguised as toothpicks in a jar. He thinks it’s cute.

Meanwhile, “Kate” is pretty fucking sure that her next-door neighbor is either a spy or a model. Potentially both. But no one that hot just “surprise” moves in, and no one can hold two boxes with one arm unless they’re Natasha, but Natasha would be smooth if she was struggling. This guy didn’t even look like it was a problem.

So she is suspicious.

But she is also interested in this guy. He’s her type: a little bit dangerous, nice smile, and probably looks good in navy blue.

So when she comes home at eight-thirty, she does check her home.

She finds one bug. She’s sure there are more in places that she would never check, and this means that this guy has been in the business a hell of a lot longer than she thought. It also means she’ll have to run facial recognition on any chance that he’s recognizable, and those chances are slim.

But she cannot dismantle the bugs yet. She has to leave them there until she has enough evidence to be a nice neighbor and confront him with a nice dish of brownies.

It’s odd, living in a place that you know is bugged. She knows that he didn’t touch the bedroom. Hmph. She would have.

She smiles at him in the hallway when they wake up the same time.

“Where you off to, Jim?” She asks, holding her briefcase.

“Gym,” he answers. “Gotta get it in somehow, you know? What about you, work?”

“Boring office job,” Kate answers easily. Kate does have a boring job. It’s all paperwork and accounting and the classes she would have failed if she had taken them in college. “Where do you work?”

“Private security firm,” he answers. Which is kind of true. He is independent. “Just making sure people stay safe from threats.”

“Important work,” Kate says lightly. “Ever go wrong?”

“Rarely.”

She nods, stepping forward as the elevator door opens. “Good luck today, Jim. Hope the workout goes as planned.”

Okay. Bucky knows she’s onto him now.

Shit.

Sharon has important shit to do.

But she is not an art student.

So she is trying to convince Agent Jenson to draw someone for her.

“I will buy you the good donuts,” Sharon begs. “You know I wouldn’t be doing this for any other reason.”

“One time when you were bored you made Thea on third floor photoshop Clint into a McDonald’s ad just to see if you all could get it to Times Square and you did,” Jenson says, deadpan. “I’m not sure how Barton doesn’t get recognized, he’s gotten on national news twice.”

“The marketing team describes him as a Florida man, we got lucky,” Sharon argues. “And Barton isn’t involved in this.”

Agent Jenson cannot be convinced.

But Sharon gets lucky because Coulson loves history.

James fucking Barnes.

Jim.

Goddammit. She’s screwed. And it’s only Thursday.

When she comes home at ten o’clock (yes she did procrastinate going home, it’s not like you can’t procrastinate death), she has a gun trained on her door.

Right on Jim, who has a knife raised.

“You know, why aren’t we both rational about this?” Sharon asks. “I’m sure you can talk diplomatically, Barnes.”

“I can. But I find more truth in threats and statements rather than diplomacy. Politicians aren’t known for telling the truth.”

“Good thing I don’t have a plan to go into politics,” Sharon says. “So let’s sit down. I’m not gonna hold this gun for twenty minutes.”

And then they sit. That’s awkward.

“I need to know something,” Barnes says. “And I’ll know if you’re lying.”

“Of course you will. I’d be concerned if you didn’t,” Sharon says. “So. Why were you sent to kill me?”

“There are rumors of you being disloyal to SHIELD. I need to know if you’re working for anyone else.”

“No. Not ever.” He nods.

“Who hired me?” she asks.

“A man who goes by Crossbones,” Bucky says.

“Oh my god,” Sharon groans. “Of fucking course it’s Rumlow...”

Bucky freezes. He knows that name. He remembers that man.

“New plan,” he says. “You’re gonna help me get rid of Rumlow.”

Sharon blinks.

She’s used to decisions being made over a series of days. This is...this is new.

“This is personal, isn’t it?”

“You’re smart,” Bucky says bitterly. “He’s an asshole. And I hate him a lot.”

“Got it,” Thirteen says. “Then let’s switch it up. Draw him to where I am. I’ll take care of the rest. You’re on clean-up.”

“I’ve never had a team-up before,” Bucky says. “But I usually think we know each other’s names.”

“Sharon,” she says. “Bucky, right? Or do you seriously go by Jim?”

“Not like Bucky is any better,” he mentions. “But yeah. Bucky. Pleasure doing business with you, Sharon.”

“Better get started,” she says.

(Oh, he’s in love.)

#lovelyirony writes #winter13 #sharon carter #bucky barnes #buckysharon #i love them.......they #sharon #bucky #winter soldier #agent thirteen #they are both capable!#and a little bit too good for their own good!

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blankdblank · 4 years

Text

Next Caller Pt 22

“Dis will be thrilled to have someone so extravagant to blend in with this year. Usually Tili has to miss it and our robes aren’t as fine as the dresses and capes she chooses.”

“Cape? Wouldn’t she go as an animal?”

To himself he chuckled, “No, Dis is going as a Butterfly Storm Fairy again.”

“Butterfly?” You asked with a curious grin.

“Yes, we are quarter Hobbit and she uses that to her advantage to be extravagant. This year especially as she’s carrying and no one would dare try to stop her.”

When he paused in the living room to light the fire he shifted to face you, “Is this a Dwarf courting thing? Why she would ask me?”

“Could be she considers you family. Or an ally, they can be used to buffer in the first meeting of clans.”

“Is it really going to be that bad?”

He chuckled again shaking his head, “Which clan is she from?”

“Stone, foot, I think? And Baggins, obviously.”

“We usually get along with Stonefoot clan. I promise you, there won’t be any battles you would be eased in the middle of.”

“Well I doubt there would, I’m just not the best in my opinion to buffer, I barely know you all and I’ve met her parents once.” Your doorbell rang in another roll of thunder, turning your head you mumbled, “Now who is that?”

Frerin chuckled and said in your glance at him, “I thought Bilbo was the only one who could remind me of Gran and unexpected guests. Hobbit trait, even we feel the pull from time to time outside of the clan.”

To the door you went and opened it again this time finding Dis and Vili outside who grinned at your moment of confusion, “Hi.”

Dis, “We came to check on you, make sure you were doing well.”

“I am,” stepping back you opened the door wider and let the pair in, “Just gonna order take out.”

Vili closed the door asking, “Frerin’s here?” He said lowering to remove his boots after Dis slipped out of her shoes as well. “And lighting a fire.”

Frerin smirked standing up from lighting the fire, “Blustery outside Vili, perfect temp for a fire. Besides, always like a fire after a shopping trip. Jaqi insisted on picking lunch.”

“I’ll get the menu,” you said heading to the kitchen.

Dis moved closer asking lowly, “She ok?”

Frerin nodded, “Seems like it, bit put off, Mal asked Jaqi to play buffer at the festival this weekend. Well, didn’t ask really.”

Vili, “And her family?”

Frerin, “Her Amad is her clan. I think settling here is the big change. Full time, big house compared to her flat.”

Dis, “What were you buying?”

Frerin smirked, “Housewarming gift. She’s promised to be very cross with me when it arrives after letting me buy it for her.” Making the pair smirk in return.

“Ok, Chinese food, what do you guys like?”

Gathered around the menu on the couch you added it to the app for the local shop on your phone and paid through it then switched on the projector as Dis said, “Mal cornered you into attending the festival I hear?”

“It, it’s not like that. Just nerves.”

Vili, “Nerves to meet us?”

“Meet all of you, have the guys meet her parents for the first time.”

Dis shifted, “Her parents are cautious on the courtship?”

Vili, “Is it because she’s being courted by two suitors at once?”

“No,” you wet your lips, “That’s not what I mean. Just, they weren’t spring chickens when they had her.” That had them nodding haltingly, “They’re just protective, she was a surprise after years of having stopped trying.” The admission softening their expressions, “I mean, they even were wondering about me when we first met, wanted to make sure I was a good influence when she kept bringing me up.”

Frerin chuckled, “You, a bad influence?”

Dis, “No doubt they got over that quickly.”

Vili, “Anything we can do?”

You shrugged, “I don’t have babies. No clue. I do however have a bear in my backyard. You all seem more than sensible, guys are adorable, don’t know them that well past they’ve got a good trade, mechanics on a pit crew. Once you get past the fact they’re all fresh out of their teens, give or take some years,”

Vili, “That would be an issue?”

“To be blunt, she’s a Dwobbit. There’s two of them, depending on when they decide to get physical,”

Dis nodded, “Pebbles.”

“Yup.”

Frerin, “Well I doubt that would be an issue so early. I’ll keep the boys busy if I have to.”

“Doubt Mal would like that.”

Vili, “Neither would the boys, but even we had some limitations on time together. They will get over it.”

Switching to a court tv show you all settled into the couch easing the center foot rest out to slide sideways before removing the cushion revealing the wooden top that Vili helped you settle the food onto. Frerin brought out some plates and the adorably small bottles of juice to go with the meal your conversation bled through the show you all commented on. A glance at Dis rubbing her back when the food was over had Vili asking, “Back hurt?”

She shook her head, “Just kicking. We should get some mandarins on the way home.”

“I have some, if you want some. Tons of fruit in the fridge.”

The guys helped to carry the dishes into the kitchen setting them in the sink while Dis grabbed a mandarin and looked in the fridge and claimed one of your boxes of raspberries, “Ooh, raspberries.” She straightened up and looked at you making you giggle.

“Help yourself. I have four boxes left. I also have some blueberry jam if you guys want it. Not a big fan of blueberries, used to give it to my neighbors.”

Frerin, “Ooh, I’ll take some of that.” You nodded and went to the pantry showing them your jam and preserve supply dropping their jaws.

Vili looked you over and you said, “I grow a lot of fruit. Like, a lot.”

A hug was taken by Frerin with a promise to see you in the morning and if their hands weren’t full with reusable totes of fruit and jars from your pantry Dis and Vili would have done the same, both thanking you and wishing you good night.

Exhaling slowly you locked the door behind your back looking through the entrance hall. Back to the living room you went and put on a music video channel and went to rinse off the dishes you loaded into your washer. Drying off your hands you left the cloth on the counter and started swaying and bouncing along to the songs through your house. Happily and curiously your birds joined in on the fun bopping and dancing along, a fun hour was spent until the rain came down heavily and the storm shutters began to ease down. Under the stargazing glass roof of the greenhouse you joined them in watching the storm get blocked out triggering the crystal lanterns inside to light up.

Out again you went shutting off the music switching the channels until your phone buzzed and you smirked seeing a message from Mal that her scooter was finally out of the shop and it was just her luck that it had started to rain ten feet from her building. Easing your laptop closer you opened it starting to look at scooters and the road requirements for them. You were just a subway stop away now and with everything in town it wouldn’t be unreasonable to get yourself one. It certainly would silence your friends on the walk home past midnight. Rain however would be a hindrance, however those days you could always take the subway.

Her rant on the rain had you messaging back, “How much was your scooter?”

“Not certain, was Mom’s in school, Adad fixed it up for me, why?”

“Think I might look into getting one. Might stop people from worrying about me walking past midnight.”

“I think you’d love a scooter! We could match!”

“True. Don’t think I could pick a pink one.”

“Just don’t forget a helmet.”

“I know. My oldest friend is a racer. He would tear out his hair if he found out I didn’t wear one.”

“Agh, my window wiggled open. Talk to you tomorrow, have to fix it.”

“Night.”

With a sigh you sat back then hopped up to head to your study fetching your legal pads for the latest book in your series to write out the ideas and bits of dialog that flooded into your mind. Up till nightfall you wrote feeling your eyes drooping signaling you to take them back to your study, turning off the show. With the pads secured in your mini safe tucked in one of your trunks into the bath you went to scrub the stray ink off your hands, that once gone freed you to plug in your phone and crawl your way under your covers and fall asleep.

Half dazed again you plopped on your couch post breakfast waiting for the doorbell to sound grumbling about how late you had stayed up and the three video messages you had received from your family about a recital your sisters had along with a third from Cirdan flaunting his melon patch that he had harvested. The interruptions however unexpected were infinitely welcome as a tether to your family. A welcome warmth seeping from you into your home reminding yourself just how you had planned to fix up the spare rooms to bring them out one day. Quotes for the installation of the built in bunk beds had been added to your list and seemed to be modest a cost without the mattresses, which would near double it. Buying the house was a small fortune, and it seemed filling it would cost the same. But a text had torn you from sleep and up you climbed to your feet to head out into another blustery day making your shirt flap around you and braid circle you almost twice.

Halfway sliding your way to the car you climbed in and flashed Frerin a grin. “Thanks again.”

“No need to thank me. Trouble sleeping?”

With a giggle you showed him one of the pictures your family had sent you with your mother and sisters, all three with peach colored curls, mint eyes with silver speckles, around Cirdan with his emerald eyes, pastel pink hair and braided beard to his chest smiling widely with armfuls of melons. “Got some videos last night. Two recital performances and Cirdan’s melons. They’re enjoying their spring.”

“That’s good.” He said backing out of your drive.

“Yes it is. You sleep well?”

“Like a rock.”

A brief stop at the shop had you sipping on your cider as Frerin got tangled in a call over speaker phone concerning work parting you with finger waves, his being reluctant as if he had wished to say something. Out you popped and headed inside the lobby where you found Glorfindel and Ecthellion waiting. The pair beamed at you and the latter said, “Thursday,” Your brow inched up, “I have the final figures and now we are just hashing out the wording. I’ll get it finished today, hopefully they will have their end signed tomorrow and you on Wednesday with wheels turning on Thursday for their ad to be posted and their side to settle on an advance for your sending a draft of the novel in to Gorgo. Though I doubt it is to edit and critique but to gain a sneak peek into the series.”

With a giggle you replied, “No doubt, and that’s good news.”

Glorfindel, “Better news, we got a quote on those stickers, next week should be able to get a few thousand ready for purchase, surely with more to follow in pre-orders on the website. I will have the ad up later today, plus let’s say 20 for you, your Naneth and the Durins of course to split.”

Tightly you hugged the pair earning tight hugs in return muffling your soft, “Thank you!”

Back again they stepped and Glorfindel asked guiding you to the lift asking, “Any plans today post tea stop?”

“Actually, I have to buy some shoes.”

They both said, “Ooh,”

“And, I’ve been considering a scooter, possibly.”

Glorfindel, “Nice.”

Ecthellion smirked asking, “What type of shoes?”

“Well the Festival this weekend, Mal asked me to be her buffer. I’ll wear my old costume, which is a bit long.”

Ecthellion, “What color?”

“Black and gold, for the dress. The feathers are all white.”

Ecthellion said, “Let me buy your shoes. I have time between calls and my sister needs some help shopping as well in Greenwood. Glori can help you with your scooter shopping.”

Out into the hall you stepped and said, “I haven’t decided yet.”

Glorfindel, “We can at least look for you. It wouldn’t hurt.”

You nodded, “I suppose. They do seem reasonably priced and it is a short distance so aside from blustery and rainy days I could zip around quite easily, and safely, they have biking lanes here even on bridges.”

Ecthellion, “I think it would suit you nicely and ease you into car ownership.”

Glorfindel, “How do you think today will go over?”

“Well, it’ll be the test if I can keep this going on air and be convincing. Should be suspenseful all the same.”

Ecthellion, “No doubt about that.”

Mal from the lift came out with a huff, “First the rain now these winds. Get my scooter back from the shop and now I am left to hoofing it.” She looked you over, “Any thoughts on the scooter shopping since last night?”

“Thought I might go looking today. Just to browse. Feel things out at least.”

Mal said, “I’ll come too then, apparently the guys have to pick out the finishing touches to their costumes.” Pouting through a disappointed huff, she looked you over, “How did it go with Frerin? All cozy with the fire and his shopping spree?”

Weakly you chuckled and replied, “Dis and Vili showed up,” making her inhale sharply, “Came to check on me. We had lunch and I sent them home with a heaping helping of my jams and preserves, some of my berries and a mandarin too.”

Mal huffed, “Oh boots! I could have had lunch with their parents! Oh the luck of it all..”

Rubbing your hand on her arm you said, “Don’t be like that. You get to know them over the weekend. They are not half as vicious as they try to seem. You will get along well.”

Mal, “Oh I don’t doubt that, parents love me.” Making you smirk to yourself, “Just have to keep Adad from going off on the guys.”

“Oh I doubt he would go for the jugular. They make you happy, they have earned a chance to be heard out at least.”

Glorfindel said, “I am certain there is event enough to distract as well, Thranduil has shared it is quite amusing with interest enough for our first trip out.”

“How did it go?” Thorin asked noting his brother’s furrowed gaze in having to park and walk around the building to get in the much safer front door brushing his hair out of his face on his way to the counter.

“Buy the hedges.” Thorin huffed and Frerin blurted out, “I got interrupted by a work call.”

A twin pair of stewardesses from weeks prior sighed asking, “We haven’t missed her, have we?”

Dwalin said, “Show should start soon.”

The taller of the ladies said, “No, his forbidden lover. Only been half a week.”

Thorin rolled his eyes turning away from the pair while Frerin smirked and moved closer. The elder brother muttering, “Don’t start.”

Dwalin chuckled replying, “She shows up later.” Lower he continued, “Still besotted.”

Thorin rumbled, “I’m moving away from all of you.”

Frerin chuckled, “Good, I think our dear Mafioso would be needing a roommate. Someone to help her fill in her home.” Earning a glare from his brother only deepening his smirk. “You and I both know she feels a bit timid on spending all that money to fill all that space just for herself. Now, with a lover,” Thorin’s glare deepened, “she may feel more comfortable in it.” Frerin chuckled and said on his way to the office, “For now just let your mind wander to this weekend. She will be Mal’s buffer.” Parting Thorin’s lips in wonder as to how you would be dressed for the occasion finally allowing him to see you out of casual clothes. Not that he didn’t adore you comfortable, but he was curious to see what you could pull off for an event of this level.

Eyes shifted upwards at the sounding of the opening music for the show and with baited breath. Bunny’s opener was nowhere in sight and right into the thick of things the Countess and her family all delved into plotting with papers being scattered about and crumbled up. Nearly an hour plotting had bled into reminiscing as to where Bunny could have been taken until an abrupt cut off came with the clinking of coins in your palm to mime chains in Bunny’s waking up to a cackle from Holm.

Hair was standing on end by the first ad break you stretched your tongue and lips readying to start up again spilling more into the sinister back and forth delving out more of the pair of rarely spoken about characters. Harshly words were spat back and forth between the pair until Bunny was drugged and Holm said to his henchman to ready ‘the device’ a second ad provided the switch over and a bathroom break for you to return. From there to delve into a seemingly unrelated new pair of characters revealed to be treasure hunting off the edge of Rohan’s cliff side. Meaning was revealed as they set off a sonar device that backfired sending off an unintended electromagnetic pulse killing the power to several lands surrounding the cliffs. The final send off being Holm’s cries of rage and a pre copied grumbling from Bunny.

That tiny breath of hope giving everyone listening in a belief that their dear announcer had a chance of being rescued or possibly escaping at the playing of the closing music. Frerin had gone to the station in the second ad break parking in the garage to give himself time to listen to the show and be on time to fetch you back again. Upon seeing you with Mal and the tall golden haired Elf he exited his car flashing you a grin asking, “You seem pleased. It was a lovely show.” Looking to Mal he said, “I smell a plot afoot. I want in.”

Mal chuckled and said, “Jaqi’s looking at scooters today.”

Frerin smirked looking to you, “Just browsing, haven’t decided yet.”

Frerin chuckled then said, “All the same, I’m in. Oh, and I can drop you at the shop on the way Mal,”

Mal, “But..”

Frerin sent a wink her way, “A certain Durin is heading your way.” Parting her lips making her hurry over to climb in through his door as he laid the seat forward.

Glorfindel chuckled saying, “I’ll follow you then.” Patting your back to guide you to the car you let yourself inside.

It was just a few minutes to drop her off then turn around to head for the dealership just a couple exits away on the highway.

Dis inside the shop in a stop of her own finished off her own mug of tea and upon seeing Frerin’s car passing the shop she climbed to her feet as Dwalin asked in the car pulling away, “Guess they were dropping Mal off.”

Thorin in watching the car take off in the complete opposite direction rumbled, “Where are they going?”

Dis patted his back saying, “Frerin mentioned he was shopping yesterday, maybe he’s asking for her opinion on something.”

Thorin, “Perhaps, but who was in the car behind him?”

Dis smirked saying, “I will ask Mal at brunch with Bilbo and Frodo. Try not to worry. Frerin says she is doing well. Her main issue being adjusting to her new home compared to her old place.”

Thorin rumbled back in concern, “It’s that bad?”

Dis sighed, “You know how we all felt moving out the first time, she was there for centuries and in a matter of days she’s now in a huge place. It must barely feel lived in yet to her, only just found her hedge trimmer yesterday.”

Dwalin, “Oh that couldn’t have gone well. What’d she get?”

Dis, “Bear.” Looking to Thorin again she said, “In time.”

Grumbling in her absence they turned to distract themselves hoping you wouldn’t take long, though they could always drop by your place after if it took too long.

“Hmm.” Easing your fingers around your braid you untangled from inside the glass wrapped dealership sales floor. Near to the size of a baseball field you eyed the various types of scooters stemming to dune buggies and four wheelers. Between the two men you strolled through the small Vespas that you had looked up being unable to take across bridges or highways into the more crotch rocket style scooters. Each one growing more expensive by the aisle and at the approach of a salesman you reached up to tap Glorfindel’s side only for him to pull out his coin purse he set in your palm parting your lips.

Lowly he stated, “You get paid from the hotel next month, I know you’ve budgeted for your hotel check. Use the gold and write me a check on the first. You’re good for it.”

Misspelled, that was all you could think of the man with a Troll saying on his arm. No doubt meant to be something far more formidable than ‘cabbage behind dawn’ all the same you looked at the man who was pulling his longer sleeve out from under his plaid shirt sleeved shirt tucked into his black jeans hanging over an odd pair of bright orange boots matching his tie with lime polka dots on it. His certain salesman grin easing out in his approach.

“Take it you’re prepping for uni for your little miss?”

A twitch of your brow had it clicking in your head that again you were counted to be the child in the mixture by your size. Frerin however grinned parting the lips of the salesman who recognized him instantly. Easing his arm around your shoulders saying, “Helping my big Sis pick out a scooter.”

The man looked you over catching your flinch of a grin, “Yes, well we certainly have a fair selection for Hobbit sized lasses to choose from. Any specifics you require?”

“Well it has to be legal to take on the highway and bridges, I have to cross a bridge to get to work. I don’t live far from my other job so it won’t be needed for long commutes, just the back and forth I suppose.”

He nodded and started to guide you through the difference in motor classifications you really didn’t need as well as how fast each could get to leaving a smaller group of two brand models to choose from. “Have you driven one before?”

You nodded, “Ya, not since I was in the service, but I remember the gist of it.”

Lowly he muttered, “Service,” then wet his lips wondering at your age noticing you had Elf not Hobbit ears. “We do have a special edition mint striped one in the back if you wanted to take this white one to our demo track in the back room?”

You nodded and he waved over another man telling to go fetch the mint one and ready it for purchase, sprucing it up and filling the tank with minor checks to fluids and battery and such. Hunched over he guided the scooter through the sales floor and through a barn door that another worker at the counter near there opened for you all flashing you all a grin as you passed.

Inside the miniature mock obstacle road course set up half the size of the sales floor complete with street signs to practice stopping and starting at he set you up on the starting corner. Inching back you pocketed the coin purse and held the weight of the scooter while he went over the tiny features like blinkers, headlights and of course the tiny tweaks to the clutch, shifter and accelerator from the much older model you had driven on your training base. The salesman stepped away leaving you under the watch of another man to go check the paperwork for the scooter was being gathered by his assistant.

Ignition switched on and around the course you went leaving Glori to look at chuckling Frerin who muttered, “Just trying to picture my brother trying to fit in the back of that. Mahal knows he’s going to want to keep it equal and if she wants to drive I certainly want to be there when he’s squished on the backseat.”

Glori chuckled saying, “I highly doubt if he is as protective as you all say that he wouldn’t simply buy her something bigger.”

Frerin chuckled saying, “He’s already been trying to think of ways to lend her his car. I think this might be the nail in the coffin for him.”

Glori looked at Frerin and asked, “I don’t mean to offend, however, as nearly kin, Thorin is not the sort to bounce from one relationship to the next, is he? Because there are certain courtship markers that once cast off many Elves will not take another partner.”

Seriously Frerin answered, “I understand fully, and no, he isn’t. He was tightly bound to a woman years back, though she cheated and he nearly decided not to court again until he met Jaqi. I give you my word it is nothing frivolous.”

Glori flashed him a calming grin and turned his head to look at you again, “Her Naneth had such a time courting Cirdan, were it not for his patience and compassion along with Jaqi’s hard earned blessing they would not be bound. It took quite some time for trust to be rebuilt. We wore her down though, and she is the stronger for it. Completely treasured. I am certain she would agree to the union, once her trust is sated. Though that entirely depends on the pace Jaqi chooses.”

Frerin, “Well at this rate either they’ll back into a courtship by accident or Thorin might just explode with all he’s been holding in.”

“Is that normal for Dwarves, repression of emotions until explosions?”

Frerin chuckled, “Depends on the Dwarf. And how badly they’ve been burned before.”

Five laps and three paths through the obstacles on the inner ring the man guided you to try you came to a stop in front of the pair who grinned at you making you say, “You’re plotting something.”

Frerin chuckled saying, “Just saying they had some interesting designs for helmets you could choose from. I doubt you would need a full face one, but you will be getting a helmet. Even with the bike lanes you could still fall down.”

Smirking at him you got off and handed the weight to the man who came to take it back again. “I know. Even without telling Thranduil I could hear him shouting the same.”

Glorfindel settled his hand on your shoulder and in your shared smile Frerin caught a matching set of glowing silver rings in your eyes lighting up and white swirls spreading from his fingertips up his hand in the contact. Part of the reason why Elves outside of clans or couples rarely showed physical affection in public as like when Dwarves embraced their kin their invisible clan markers would glow. A brief moment of visible joy and peace between the pair of you. “It suits you, you want it?”

You nodded and said, “I think it would be a good purchase.”

He nodded and lowered his hand when the first salesman came back, “Alright, minor hitch, the mint striped one is a bit more powerful than the white one, would that be alright still?”

You nodded, “Should be fine for me.”

He nodded and said, “Well I have the paperwork ready and if you have the details we could work out the payment plan for you.”

“Ah, I have payment in full.”

Making his grin inch wider, “Even better. Saves plenty of time. My office is on the way past the helmets.”

To go with the green to silver color changing stripe on your black scooter you picked a shimmering pale green and silver open faced helmet that bumped the price up to an even three gold coins post tax. Part of the process was their helping to confirm the purchase by giving you the info setting up your insurance for it and printing out your temporary insurance papers. Curiously though the salesman eyed you after having read your birth date back in the Second Age only adding to your mystery and the question of you were younger or older then your golden haired clearly fully Elven friend.

Thankfully the winds weren’t as strong here and had died down quite a bit since your arrival. Next to the curb around the building you eyed the pair after passing Glorfindel back his coin purse, “Do you guys have to go now?”

Glori said, “I should perhaps check on the station, ensure the show hasn’t received another duffel of letters or random items to help Bunny escape.” Leaning in to hug you again, “Love you, see you tomorrow Jackrabbit.”

Flashing him a wave in his turn, “Love you too Glori. Drive safe.”

“You as well, if it is windy tomorrow please do not risk it.”

“I know,”

Frerin said, “I’ll be picking her up again,”

Glori grinned saying, “Good, have fun Frerin.”

Frerin chuckled and looked you over asking, “Hungry?”

“Kind of.”

He nodded and after checking his watch he said, “Why don’t you come over to ours. We’ve invaded your home nearly daily, come scavenge in ours.” With a giggle you watched him turn saying, “Just follow me, won’t take no for an answer.”

Trotting to his car again he hastily messaged Thorin, who had been lingering around and after an hour decided you weren’t coming and headed home with a huff curious where his brother had taken you. A bark from his pocket had him pulling out his phone at Frerin’s alert to read, “Hey Rin. On our way to our place. If you’d like come down and check out Mafioso’s new wheels.”

Pt 23

@himoverflowers, @theincaprincess, @aspiringtranslator, @sweeticedtea, @ggbbhehe4455, @thegreyberet, @patanghill17, @jesgisborne, @curvestrology, @alishlieb, @jogregor, @armitageadoration, @fizzyxcustard, @here2have-fun, @lilith15000, @marvels-ghost, @catthefearless, @imjusthereforthereads, @c-s-stars, @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore, @mariannetora, @shesakillerkween

Hobbit/LotR – @abiwim, @jotink78, @pastelhexmaniac

#Thorin x Reader OC #Dis x Vili #Frerin #Glorfindel #Hobbit #lotr

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themoonandotherslikeit · 5 years

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The Daughter of a Righteous Man -Chapter 9

*SEQUEL TO THE LOOK IN HER EYES*

After her husband is drug to Hell, Ava Winchester and her brother in law Sam try their best to do right by Dean and raise her daughter, only to find that good intentions aren’t always enough. Loving someone isnt always enough.

Chapter Nine, When the Light Dies Out

Ava

"Team, this is Detective Winchester. She will be starting here at the precinct. She has a great track record form her previous department outside of Seattle. Make her feel welcome," Sheriff Jody Mills said. "Your desk is over here." She pointed. "Make yourself at home."

I nodded and smiled. I lowered myself into my chair and ran my hands along my new desk. I was getting my life back. I would only be working four days at first, and Sam would work Wednesday through Sunday. John or Bobby agreed to watch Nel when neither of us were home. They all wanted me to go back to work. To be happy. My old Sargent gave a glowing review. I was hired almost immediately.

"So, Ava. Why do you want to work here?" Sheriff Mills asked, crossing her arms.

"I have a three month old baby," I began. "But before I was a mother I was a damn good detective. I lost myself, and I want to find that girl again. There are two places I feel at home, with my family and with my work. I need to give myself that second home again."

Jody smiled widely. "I have a son. I know exactly what you mean." She took out my file. "I spoke to your Sargent at your old office. He spoke very highly of you. He was sorry to see you go, but I figure his loss is my gain. We need some more strong willed women in this department. Welcome to the team, Detective."

"So, Ava. I'm Lacey." A woman came up to me, extending her hand. She had a badge attached to her hip. "It's nice to see another woman in this building. It's starting to smell like bacon and axe body spray." She grinned widely. She had shorter strawberry blonde hair.

I laughed warmly and leaned back in my seat.

"I'm surprised Sheriff Mills let you come right in and be a detective with no grunt work. You must be good,” Lacey added.

I shrugged. "I already did the boys club song and dance. I earned my spot every day. Guess it counts for something after all."

"Guess so." She grinned. "Haven't seen you around much. Did you just move?"

"A few months ago. I had a baby, so I'm just getting back to regular life."

"Please tell me you have pictures."

I grinned. It was so nice to talk to someone new. Someone who didn't know me. "Of course I do!" I pulled out my phone and pulled up a picture of Sam holding Nel out to the camera. They were both smiling.

"Oh my gosh she's so cute! And who is this handsome guy? Is this your husband?"

"No,” I said weakly. "It's my brother in law."

"Is he single?" Lacey grinned at me.

"No," I said flatly.

The rest of the day was paperwork, and training videos. The most exciting part was my gun certification. It felt good to hold my weapon in my fingers. To feel the cool metal. Before I hunted monsters, there was always an easy answer. Everything could be solved with a pair of cuffs or a gun.

I yearned for that simplicity some days. I took in a deep breath and held it. I only pressed the trigger when I released my breath. Zing. Head shot. I blew through my eight required shots like nothing. Four chest and four head. Flawless. Sheriff Mills offered to buy me a drink off the clock to celebrate.

"Rain check, Sheriff. It's my first real day away from my little girl, and I miss her."

I spent the whole day trying to be the badass cop again, but I still pumped in the bathroom during my lunch break. I was dying to see Nel.

"Give her a kiss for me," Jody said with a nod. "You did good today."

"Thank you."

When I pulled up to the house it was almost dark. My training had taken longer than expected. My breasts were full, and my shoulder was sore from shooting. I was out of practice. I was ready to fall over when I unlocked the door. The house was dark, and I wondered if Sam dropped by Bobby's. I clicked on the light and was suddenly assaulted by sound.

"Surprise! Happy birthday!" Sam had Nel on his chest in a baby wrap. Bobby and John were in the living room as well. It was a pathetic party, but something came over me. He remembered. He wanted to surprise me.

I walked to Sam and pulled him into a hug. "You didn't have to do this."

"Sure I did." He grinned. "We don't really celebrate birthdays, but you deserve a party."

I glanced around the room. "This is a party?"

He laughed loudly, and laced his fingers with mine. "We need to make friends."

"I'll say."

"I ordered take out from that Thai place you like."

I grinned widely. "You're the best!"

"Hey, birthday girl," Bobby said walking to me. I released Sams fingers and let Bobby hug me. "Twenty seven. Wow. Does this mean I'm old?"

"Without a doubt."

"Let's have a drink." Bobby offered, pulling me into the kitchen. He took out the whiskey and poured himself a glass. "So do you want to tell me what's going on with you and Sam?"

I swallowed hard, my blood running cold. "What do you mean?"

"I may have been born at night, Ava, but I wasn't born last night."

I sighed. Shit. "I don't know, Bobby. We are living... we are trying to make it through."

"He's a good kid. You know I think that, but isn't it a little soon?"

"Of course it is," I hissed. "But you've seen me, Bobby. I've been a corpse! I've been dead. I died that day with Dean. I want to feel something. Anything good."

His expression softened, and he sighed. "Damn it, kid. Is this really the way?"

"I don't know," I admitted. "But it may be way too fucking late to take it back."

"It's never too late, kid. If he cares about you then he will take the hit. Just be honest. That's all you can do."

Sam

"Son, Who are you two trying to fool?" Dad asked.

"What?" I was bouncing Nel. Ava and Bobby had just went into the kitchen.

"You and Ava. Your brother isn't even cold in the ground and you're with her?"

I cleared my throat. "It isn't any of your business, Dad."

"The hell it isn't. You think you can just wiggle into her life, into my granddaughters?"

"So now you're this caring father? You care about Dean now that he's dead?"

"Don't start with me, Son. Where's your respect for your brother? How would he feel?"

"It doesn't matter," I said, broken. "He isn't here. If he was here it wouldn't even be an issue." I shook my head. "I promised him I'd take care of her, and I'll be with her however she wants me. Now, this is Ava's birthday, and if you care about her like you pretend to, then put on your happy face, eat dinner, and then go the fuck home."

I was grateful that Eleanor was too young to understand. She was asleep, her face pressed against my chest. I put on my best smile and walked into the kitchen. "Ready for dinner?"

"Sure," Ava said with a smile. "But first I want baby snuggles."

I unwrapped Nel from my chest and handed her over to Ava.

"God she's so beautiful. Hi little one." She kissed Nel’s face and hummed gently to her. "I'll go put her in her swing."

Ava walked out of the kitchen, and I laid out the dinner. It was awkward. It was obvious that Dad and Bobby didn't approve of Ava and I, but I didn't care. If she wanted me, I would be there. It was Ava, and I against the world.

"How was your first day at work?" I asked Ava as we were digging in.

"It was really good! I renewed my gun certification, and I got my badge."

"You're official." I grinned.

I insisted that she should go back to work. She was getting stir crazy in the house. I knew she missed being a part of the force.

"Yup, and I met my partner. Another girl, Lacey."

Bobby groaned.

"What?" Ava asked, sucking a noodle into her mouth.

"That Lacey has arrested me multiple times. She's strong for a skinny thing."

"Uncle Bobby, your picture is up in the office. You're the town drunk." She eyed him.

I couldn't help but laugh. "Got him."

The dinner ended up okay. We were laughing and drinking. Ava had one drink, but that was enough to make her eyes relax. Bobby and Dad left after we had cake.

I was leaning over the dishes, so she wouldn't have to wash them, and she walked up behind me wrapping her arms around my waist. "Thank you for tonight. It was wonderful." She pressed her lips to my back, and I smiled.

I dried off my hands and turned around to pull her into a hug. She was so small, about a foot shorter than me. "It isn't over yet, birthday girl."

Ava

I raised an eyebrow at Sam, my hands resting on his chest. "It isn't?"

"Nope." He kissed my forehead. He reached into his pocket and handed me a small velvet box.

My heart pounded. The last time a Winchester gave me a box like this it held Mary's wedding ring. The ring that still rested on my finger.

"Open it." He urged me.

I glanced at him. Sam didn't want to marry me. That was fucking crazy. We were friends. We were sleeping together, and just trying to be. We weren't in love. I sucked in my breath and opened the box.

A necklace on a silver chain hung three stones. "Oh my god, Sam."

Blue topaz, aquamarine, and an emerald.

"Our birthstones. Yours, mine, and Nel’s," he said excitedly. "Our family."

Our family minus one.

I stared at the necklace, and even though the gesture was right I still couldn't breathe knowing it was missing an important piece. A garnet for Dean.

"I love it," I choked out.

"Let me put it on you."

I turned around. Sam draped the necklace on my neck and clasped it. "You look beautiful," He said when I turned around.

"Thank you."

"I was thinking. Can I pick you up from work tomorrow?" He ran his fingers through my hair.

"Why?"

"I want to spend time with you." He smiled. "Please."

I met his green eyes, and I melted a bit. "Okay."

He leaned in to kiss me. "You look tired. Head to bed and I'll finish the dishes."

I brushed my teeth, and got into my pajamas. I cuddled into bed and closed my eyes. The necklace felt hot against my skin, and I twisted the wedding ring on my finger.

"Ava wake up."

"Hmm?" I opened my eyes sleepily to find Dean sitting next to me holding a cupcake with a lit candle in it. "What?"

"Happy birthday, sweetheart." He smiled at me. His cheeks lit up by the candle.

I sat up in bed and rubbed my eyes. "How did you know?"

"I've always known. We were just on a case and well... we don't celebrate birthdays."

"We don't have to."

"You're special, Ava," Dean said with smile. "If anyone deserves a birthday it's you. Make a wish."

I closed my eyes and thought it over.

What could I wish for?

His hand brushed mine and I knew.

I wish for this. Me and Dean together forever. I want seventy more birthdays. I want children and a yard. I want more late night drives and stolen kisses. I want to spend my life making Sam uncomfortable in the Impala when Dean, and I get carried away. I want a life for him.

I want it all.

I blew out the candle and opened my eyes. The moment I opened them I caught him kissing me. He was still holding the cupcake, and I glanced at it. I took it out of his hand before he could notice, and I smashed it into his face.

He opened his eyes in shock as the cupcake hung off the side of his face. "Ava Langston!"

"Dean Winchester!" I teased.

He grabbed my face and rubbed his icing covered face on me. I laughed and kissed him. He tasted sweet. I never wished on a candle. At least not as an adult, but in that moment I hoped with everything in me that it would come true. That'd I'd never have to say goodbye to this man, because even though we couldn't admit it... we were real. We were in love.

—————

Chapter Ten, 161,280 Minutes

Get caught up!

Tag List:

@xjamiedennettx

@deans-baby-momma

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fuck-customers · 6 years

Text

Few Months worth of BS

So a mix of be hardly getting on tumblr anymore and submissions being closed whenever I am on has caused a pileup of BS stories from both jobs, enjoy.

Note- Job 1 is gas station cashier, job 2 is Tiny SeaTzars

1. Job 1- it’s like 9am, i’m barely awake and this dude who looks old enough to be my dad comes in. He’s nice enough, pleasant guy, buys his stuff and leaves. Comes back in like 5 seconds later to ask if i’m married. I was 17 at the time so I said “Sir, i’m 17.” and he immediately backpedaled thank the heavens. Creepy enough, yeah? Nope! His first thought was to say “I’m so sorry, it’s just my wife recently passed and I’ve been looking.” To which my manager (my mom) pops around the corner and says “Well you’re looking in the wrong places sugar.” In a lovely tone that screamed “You’re 3 seconds from joining your wife”. He left redder than a tomato and that incident has become a running joke with everyone.

2. Job 1- Slow day so far, mostly just pissers. (peeps who use the bathroom and don’t buy anything) Dude comes in looking like hell. Fills his own cup up from our fountain and gets pissy when it rings up a whopping $2, says it’s a refill. I tell him we don’t have refill prices. So he goes and switches it out to one of our cups. Then he wants to pay with a card, gets even more pissy when I tell him there’s a $5 minimum on cards, says “that’s bullshit, since when?” Well ever since the card fees aren’t worth it on under $5 purchases, so always. Best part of that is we have LARGE signs on both sides of the door and ON THE FRONT of the fountain machine that say “Due to fees, there is a five dollar minimum purchase requirement on all cards, thank you for your cooperation!” He gets pissed beyond words, my manager tries getting him to calm down, he says “Not right now, you really don’t know the kind of day i’m having.” Things escalated quick and next thing I know he throws his full cup of soda on the floor and stormed out cussing up a storm. I ran after him and got his plate number as my manager called the cops but they couldn’t get anything from it so he’s never been found and ugh. Prick. Prick is all I can say.

3. Job 2- Someone actually called Tiny SeaTzars to ask for the hours of the CFK (backwards) next door. Just… really?

4. Job 2- We have a new dude, on like his second week. If a pizza is expired (been in the box for over an hour) we workers can eat it. Boy he was happy about that. Thing is, he’s almost always eating. Wasn’t working Friday but got told Saturday. It’s about 6pm, y'know, near peak rush hour when we can easily make a $2k hour, and he’s in the back leisurely eating pizza. Everyone else is busting their ass and he’s eating. Makeline dude had to leave his post to get sauce (because SOMEONE wasn’t at his post where he could be asked to get it for him so makeline doesn’t have to LEAVE THEIR POST IN THE MIDDLE OF A RUSH) and found him and chews him out, and thankfully he got a writeup for it. But just??? Bruh what level of stupidity/obliviousness do you gotta be on to see everyone rushing and running around you and think “Oh, time to eat some pizza.” ????

4. Job 1- Lady I don’t know comes up to the pump and sets of the bell that says someone’s trying to get gas. We have some regulars that we just release it and they’re trusted to come in and pay after, otherwise we’re prepay. However, I have never seen this chick before since I’ve worked here so not doing that. I tap her pump on my screen to shut it up and wait for her to come in. She does, all smiles, and says hi. I ask what I could help her with, she gets a confused look on her face and says “I need gas.” and I tell her we’re prepay. Bitch mode starts to wind up and she asks in a pissy voice “Really? Since when?” and I tell her “Since the station opened.” and then she says “Hmph, okay, I’ll talk to Sean (store owner) about that.” and leaves. Like, okay? We’re prepay, you’re not gonna change that by talking to the boss, who will tell you we are prepay. I don’t get people who think they can namedrop my boss to scare me??? Like “I know Sean.” Yeah, he runs a mechanic shop, half the county knows him, your point?? Best part is when they mispronounce his name or get it entirely wrong. “Yeah, me and Shane have been friends since we were kids.” Well good for you and Shane, but that ain’t helping you with SEAN.

5. Job 2- Lady calls in a 10 pizza order to be picked up the next day at 10am. We don’t open until 10:30. I try telling her and she get’s angry but tried meeting in the middle for 10:15. Talked to my managers and they said no way before 10:30. Tell her and she gets so pissed. “For such a big order you can’t get there 15 minutes early to open?” Okay first of all, do you really believe that we get here at 10:30 and open up? What the fuck are we going to sell?? We need to count down the registers, prep the toppings, make sheetouts and stock the hotboxes. We’re here at 6am or better just so we CAN open up at 10:30. We can’t just open the doors at 10:15 because if there’s more customers waiting around we’ll have to serve them when we’re NOT ready because we let you in, and then it snowballs into “well you were open this early yesterday/last week/blahblah” and then we get in trouble. In the end she cancelled her order and asked for corporates number.

6. Job 2- Sunday after-church rush. Coworker calls in to ask for when he works next. Manager flat out tells him to get up and come check for himself because we can’t stop and look for him right now and hangs up. Seriously dude, literally EVERYONE knows to take a picture of the schedule when it’s posted. You hang around for half an hour before you leave every day anyway so wtf is stopping you from being an adult and taking a picture of your hours?? He called back like three times over the next few hours and we finally slowed down and told him but my god how stubborn and lazy do you have to be.

7. Job 1- Dude and his friend come in, one goes the the bathroom, the other gets some candy (which is RIGHT on the other side of my counter) and then goes looking around the shelves for other stuff. Buddy comes back to pay for gas and other guy leaves. I tell bathroom boy to hold on and I do a quick survey of the shelves find nothing, then go out to their car and see candy snatcher reclined in the seat eating the Reese’s he just took. I tapped on the window and the dude about jumped a foot in the air. I said “So, do you wanna pay for that or should I just go on and call the cops on you for shoplifting?” and luckily the dude doesn’t try fighting it and comes back in and tells his friend to pay for it. Friend is notably pissed and just glares at him. Tells me to just put whatever change is left after the candy in gas and heads out. Sincerely hope his friend at least thunked him in the back of the head for trying, and failing, at being a petty candy thief.

8. Job 2- Ever since I’ve gotten glasses my eyes have been bloodshot almost a constant 24/7. Eyedrops clear it up for maybe an hour or two. The first few days the “are you high” question and jokes were kinda funny and amusing, but it’s been two months and it’s still going on. I would just stop wearing my glasses but I need them to legally drive (astigmatism in both eyes) so ugh.

9. Job 1- Once again, the station is prepay. It’s written on every pump in very large letters above every handle. Please tell me why these 5 asian guys (I think relevant? They didn’t seem to understand me well so maybe language block?) could not get it through their heads that they have to pay before they get their gas. They come in saying the pump isn’t working, I say we’re prepay, you have to pay before you get it. One of them goes to hand me his card and I ask how much in gas he’d like. Confusion. Ended up having to explain what prepay was (felt like a tool because of it) and they ended up leaving saying “Okay, we go to station down the street.” And I just.. Okay? Every station in the county is prepay but okay, you do you. Honestly this is more of a “I hope I didn’t offend them” than a fuck them thing. Felt bad I couldn’t help them.

10. Job 2- We ran out of green peppers, so one of our supremes is off the menu unless they’re fine with no peppers. Dude calls and wants the pepper supreme. I tell him we’re out of green pepper and he goes into upset toddler mode.

Him: “Out of peppers, are you kidding me? How does that even happen?!”

Me: “Well, it’s kinda a supply and demand thing, Sir. If it’s a popular topping we’ll run out of it quick.”

H: “How can you run out of peppers it’s a pizza store you’d think you’d be able to tell when to order more of a topping!!”

And we don’t order it ourselves? We take count and tell our District Manager that we need things and he’s supposed to order them for us? (Dumb system I know but it’s what’s in place)

In the end he asked for a manager and just hung up when he said the same thing. Found out he left a review on google about us. “Horribly unprepaired for the simplest of orders.” okay buddy, take the one star review and shove it up your ass.

11. Job 2- This one girl I go to school with got hired on. She seemed nice enough, we never talked before but apparently she knew me. She’s a decent worker (few nit-picky things, nothing bad) but… She makes me want to hit her sometimes. I get it, you’re trying to be funny/bubbly/joking/whatever, but I don’t know you well enough for you to be making jokes off of my appearance? I’m aware I that have a slightly larger than average head, I don’t like attention being drawn to it, especially randomly? We’re stretching dough and she just randomly says “You got a big ass head you know that? A big ass head.” and laughs. Like… Thanks, it’s not like that was a point of ridicule in the past or anything. And then while we’re washing dishes she gets mad and threatens to beat me for, wait for it, splashing her with water.

At the sink.

While doing dishes.

And she’s too extra with her reactions. Little extra is funny, I admit, but she is over the top. I was washing deep dish pans and a flake of bread flew off and hit her with some water. She spat and did that little “pthptpthpthtpht” thing for almost an entire minute, then went on to say “We gonna throw hands if you do that again” I just… Kindly shut the fuck up and let me to dishes by myself if you’re gonna be such an extra [word that almost got this post deleted] like that okay? Just kindly fuck off.

I have plenty more but I feel like this post is too long as is. Enjoy my suffering and expect more to come.

#submissions #fuck customers #cashier problems #fuck coworkers #submission

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