#code red code blue series | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sugudoe · 1 year ago

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𓈒ㅤׂㅤ ✎ ° 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐈 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑 ! ࣪₊ 𐙚

✶ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: being a kindergarten teacher is something you excel at, you even have two students you treat as if they were your own. not that they mind your endless devotion, much less do their dad, 𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐢 𝐤𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐨, if you could spare some attention to him as well.

✶ 𝐚. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: papamin!!!!!!! honestly i love papamin so much, i wish i could make that man a daddy. while on the topic, nanami is girl dad code, but for the plot he is sukuna’s and yuuji’s dad. also i loved writing sukuna as a baby, he is such a menace, he definitely was that kid who bite everyone. just posting this because i can’t wait till i post the series i’m making, i had to do something before. divider by: @cafekitsune

✶ 𝐬𝐲𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐛𝐮𝐬: pure fluff / ooc!sukuna / reader has no gender / no curse!au / modern!au / mention of death and grief (minor character)

✶ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3.7k

Yuuji thinks you are his princess, and you let him play with the wood horses and gallops around your desk, sometimes you even play pretend with him, accepting the roses he plucks from the school’s garden and sharing your sandwiches with him. He loves you very dearly, it’s not a secret he keeps that you are his favorite teacher, but it is yours that he is one of your favorites as well.

Now Sukuna, his twin brother, is a whole story. The two and a half years old siblings can be perceived as the perfect opposites, because Yuuji is adorable and expressive in good ways, and Sukuna tries to bite your ankles whenever you move near him sitting on the floor. His sharp teeth are always on showcase by his little smirk, he is a menace.

You know Sukuna might sometimes dislike you, not because you have done him terrible wrong, au contrarie, you have been a good teacher, a good human! He tries to grab your hair with his tiny fists and you put him in your lap quickly, staring at him with a cute smile, he thinks you are encouraging him to leave you bald but he ends up not caring anymore, and decides to snuggle against you and sleep. Only to wake up later with a bite on your wrist.

It’s love for your profession and for the children that you don’t report any of this to the superiors or his parent, you think hopefully that you can change his ways, make him better. It does work, credits be given, he used to be worse! He used to bite the other students, now his teeth are all over your and, unfortunately, his twin.

It’s something you try your best to control, gods be good, Yuuji only whines before slapping his brother’s head, and then Sukuna cries and comes to you. You open your arms and again, he is biting you.

“Ow, Kuna!” You move his head away from your skin. “What do you eat to have such sharp teeth, hm?”

He doesn’t answer you, his big eyes are filled with tears and he is wiggling towards any skin of yours to sink his canines.

“C’mere.” You grab him and adjust the baby in your hips, before moving towards the box filled with toys and grabbing a plastic one, you take it to the class bathroom and wash it, while Sukuna sits on the balcony, staring at you with his sad puppy eyes. “You are so cute, y’know that, right?” He nods, which takes you by surprise. “You can not keep biting me anymore, Sukuna, you get this?”

As expected, Sukuna doesn’t answer this time. He only gets what he wants.

“But let’s make a deal, you don’t bite me or Yuuji, you bite this whenever you feel like it, hm?”

Sukuna is not supposed to be with pacifiers anymore, something requested by his parent and passed to you through your boss. So it’s a little secret to let him have the blue whale in his mouth, he bites the thing so deeply that by the end of the week, you have to change it for a red rubber duck.

It’s keeps going like this for a couple more days until you notice the progress being made, Sukuna always has the toy by his gripping hands or in his pockets, and whenever he falls to the ground or gets pushed by a classmate, his little eyebrows crunch into an angry face. You think he is going to jump the kid or run at you and be a little vampire, but instead he grabs his toy and starts to violently munch on it.

It’s adorable, it makes you want to eat him.

But you noticed, obviously you did, how Sukuna has anger issues, and being a baby he has no idea how to control the anger but to externalize it with violence, and you gave him a escape plan. Now, he isn’t so angry anymore, sometimes he just squeezes the little toy, he also doesn’t spend his time with only you or his brother, he makes some new friends such as little Uraume, who follows Sukuna around and both keep sharing their lunches.

You do find one more problem arising, anytime Ijichi, who you learn is their butler, comes to pick the boys, Sukuna cries desperate for having to return his toy. You tried to let him have but the man refuses and your superior reprimanded you once, after catching you trying to give it. The next day, you notice quickly that Yuuji and Sukuna both have little red teeth marks on their arms.

You sigh desperate.

After class is over, few days later, Ijichi is late for the pickup, so you sat both Sukuna (sucking his little toy) and Yuuji (talking your ear off) down. They stop what both were doing and stare at you, one with pure sparkling eyes and the other with a raising eyebrow. You laugh at that.

“My darling cherubs, we need to talk.” You sit on the floor. “Kuna, you are not allowed to keep biting your brother, you know that. And you can’t bite him as well, Yuuji. You have to go to your papa, okay?”

The little one nods at you.

“Sukuna, honey, you can’t bring the duck home, we tried. But you can find another one to bite, hm?” He doesn’t answer, of course, he is two years he is not going on a quest for a rubber toy. “I’ll talk to Ijichi-san, for you, okay buddy?”

It takes you by surprise when Sukuna gets up and moves to sit on your lap, snuggling his face to your chest. When your arms go to close, Yuuji follows his twin and sits on you as well.

“Thank you, sensei.” Kuna’s little voice melts your heart even more, you hug them back instantly.

“I’ll do anything for the both of you.”

You don’t notice the presence behind you, or the fact that it’s been there since you sat down, and payed attention to everything you said, but mostly by how Sukuna went for you instantly and thanked you. The little bundle of angriness has his eyes closed, but his brother stares behind your shoulder and gasp, wiggling out of your touch and running towards the door.

“PAPA!” Yuuji screams making your heart jump. You turn back, staring at the scene. A tall blonde man, with formal clothes, kneels to the floor before opening his arms and grabbing Yuuji on his arms, kissing the pink hair of his baby.

You have heard the gossips towards the twins’s father, how exceptionally good looking he is, most charming and polite man anyone has ever seen or meet. And that he is single.

Of course, because of Ijichi being the one to bring and get the boys and the first teacher-parents’s meeting of the year being in just a few weeks, you haven’t met the man yet, but he here is, Nanami Kento, in all his glory.

You get up with Sukuna at the same time Nanami get up with Yuuji, and you notice right away that in his other hand he holds a bouquet of purple tulips.

“Look, Kuna, your papa is here.” You bounce the sleepy head on your lap, he opens his eyes before smiling a bit, and closing it again. “I think he got pretty tired after the playground today.” You laugh quietly before staring at the man, his eyes on his baby, a small smile on his face as well.

“Pleasure to meet you, Y/n-sensei.” It’s the first thing he says to you, his voice shaking your smile for a bit. “I’m sorry about being so late, the driver got busy with some stuff, so I had to come. I got you this, for the inconvenience.” He presents you the flowers, in your mind, he was going on a date, never in millions thoughts you would expect this.

“Oh, oh! Thank you, they are beautiful.” With your spare hand, you grab the flowers and smell them, smiling sweetly.

“I told papa you like those, sensei.” Yuuji says, with his eyes closed and large smile.

“Thank you, Yuuji, my charming knight.” You put the flowers on your desk before giving a pat to his head. “And thank you again, Mr. Nanami.”

“Again, I’m very sorry. But now, I think it’s time we go, right boys? Your sensei deserves to rest after the two of you.” Nanami grabs Sukuna from your arms, the boy open his eyes again for a second before falling into slumber. You help the male grabbing the twins backpacks and both of you move towards the parking lot.

When Nanami puts the babies in their seats, he turns to you grabbing the bags.

“Thank you for being their teacher, is not an easy job, but they both really like you.”

“It’s my pleasure, really. Sukuna and Yuuji make this job really worth it.” You answer sincerely, the door to the car is closed and the boys can’t hear you.

“I heard what you said to them, about the bites. I’ll get the toys for Sukuna, thank you for caring for him.“ Before Nanami gets into his car, he stops and turns back at you. “Would you need a ride? After all we did kept you here for longer than anticipated.”

You stare at the sky, dark clouds already reaching the sunset orange and pink, even the moon hangs more brightly than ever. You are inclined to accept, but you hold yourself.

“I would, any other day, but there is so much I have to do in the classroom and to grade the kid’s exercises, but thank you for the offer, Mr. Nanami.” You both exchange a smile before you wave at the awake Yuuji, staring at you by the window.

The next day and the others after, surprising everyone, Nanami is the one picking his sons up. His back is always tainted with the sunset from the corridor’s widows whenever he stays at the door, and a dozens of mothers and staff keep staring at him, searching for any opening to create a conversation. You are putting Yuuji’s bear beanie on, when you hear your boss asking Nanami for coffee with the excuse of talking about the boys, you laugh silently before grabbing the twins’s hands and moving towards their dad, giving an scape for him to move away from the woman.

“No need for the coffee ‘date’, the parents reunion with the teachers is this saturday, we all can talk there.” You say a bit loud, enough to send the message across, and all those people ready to jump at the blonde male move away.

“Thank you.” He whispers before grabbing the boys in his arms. “No ride today?”

Every once in a while, after the first time meeting Nanami, he has been asking you if you need a ride, and with a strength you don’t know where came from, you refuse nicely. It’s not that you don’t want, would be stupid to, it’s more for the fact that he is dreamily, you wouldn’t be any better than those who salivate at the sight of him. You could be worse.

“Not today, Mr. Nanami, these two made a mess in the bathroom, although I think Sukuna has a talent for arts, he painted the walls really well.”

“God, you’re joking.” You sign no with your head and the man sighs. “I’ll ask for the price of repair, please don’t worry about it, it’s my kids, I’ll fix it.”

“No need! Seriously, I believe just water and soap and it’ll be fine.” You grab Sukuna’s cheeks and he hides his face in his dad’s chest. “But if not, it’ll be a cute memory in the future, when they move classes or school.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” Yuuji squirms. “We’re staying with you forever, right Papa?”

Oh.

“C’mon, buddy, time to go home.” Nanami laughs his answer, and you move with them, holding their backpacks. It’s a little ritual now, you could say.

You wave them goodbye and return home that day with a slight tremble in your fingers, after this year most likely you wouldn’t see them ever again, and that fact made you terribly sad. You would miss pealing the fruits for Yuuji and being gifted half of it, would miss even the mark bites of Sukuna little mouth, even though he hadn’t been a menace in a long time now.

Admitting, you would miss Nanami and his lovely smile, the way he would ask you for a ride anytime. You should accept it, you know, but could you move on from this little crush you’ve been harboring, if you are meant to never see him again? Doubt it, no one can get over the Nanami Kento.

You sleep with those thoughts, these little moments you had with him and the sweet and gentle and chaotic memories you had with the twins. It’s a bittersweet feeling teachers have, you should be used to it by now, dealing with the fact that the babies don’t stay babies forever, only in your heart and memories. But there is something in that little family that shakes your core, that moves your mind and warms your heart, something that scares you.

Saturday comes but your anxiety stays. You decorate your classroom with a large table filled with charcuterie boards and juices, there is also paintings of the kids hanging by the walls, presents to give to their parents. All of them are on the corridor, you call for one couple after the other, for the intimacy of talking about their children.

You notice how each kid can resemble their parents in a comical and adorable way. Megumi, for example, who has his mom messy hair but his dad scowl, Nobara is energetic like her mom, and sensitive like her daddy who cries when gifted her painting.

You also see how they can be with their babies. Toge’s parents who are elated with your hand signs, and how you explain that you learned it in two months for the boy and has been using and teaching it in your class, for the other students to communicate with the him. Maki’s and Mai’s parents are stiff and bored, and you take notice of that to pay more attention to the girls, help if needed anything.

You do your job perfectly, but your eyes always go searching for a blonde man whenever you go call the next parents. He is not there yet, and you wonder if he won’t come. Maybe job related, maybe he forgot, you try to not be sad.

When you are taking Nanako’s and Mimiko’s fathers to the door, waving them goodbye, you catch sight of a man with beige suit and blue shirt, in his hands another bouquet of purple tulips.

“I told you we should have given something.” Mr. Geto whispers while staring at Nanami.

“Love, that’s not a ‘Thank you for being my kid’s teacher’ bouquet.” Mr. Satoru answers with a smirk your way.

“I miss when you would give me flowers.” Geto answers, his voice low because they are already by the end of the corridor.

“Huh? I gave your flowers last week?!”

Nanami and you are staring at the couple, until their figures disappear and both of you stare at each-other, smiling fondly at first and then laughing a second later.

“I’m guessing these are for me?” You ask when you move inside the classroom, Nanami following behind. You turn to him, and he nods, giving you the bouquet, perfumed perfectly. “Thank you.”

“I’m sorry I was late, the boys wanted to come as well but I had to keep them occupied and tired.” You nod laughing, before pointing at the table in front of your desk, putting your flowers there, he sits and you move towards the wall, grabbing two drawings.

“These are for you.” You sit by his side instead of in front of the man and give him the papers, he has a sweet smile while admiring the drawings. “I asked the class to draw their family, hasn’t had the time to check yet, but I hope it’s better than the one I saw earlier: the girl draw only her sister and their cats.”

“It’s perfect, don’t worry.” Nanami has his eyes on both drawings, side by side. You can tell which is which by the colors and traces, but none other, the art is basically the same. “This is Ijichi in the car, how cute.” Nanami points at the figure in a black suit driving a car besides the house in both paintings. You stares confused at the fifth stick person, besides Nanami and the twins. “Is that…?”

“I think so…” Your hands move to your mouth, hiding your growing smile when you notice characteristics in it that resembles you, specially a rubber duck in your hands, in Sukuna’s drawing. “I’m flattered they consider me family.”

“They are not wrong.” Nanami stares at you now. “That day we meet, you were helping them with one thing I had no idea how.” He moves the drawing to your desk. “I’m not their biological father, don’t know if you know that.” You don’t, so you keep yourself quiet and let him speak. “I was their godfather, been friends with their dad ever since we were little. Itadori Jin, great guy, that’s where they inherited that beautiful pink hair.” Nanami has a sad smile in his lips that break your heart. “He and his wife died in a car crash, first date since the birth of the babies, just two months old. Their grandfather was adamant on keeping them, but he realized he needed my help, so he let me adopt them officially.”

He sighs before grabbing his thighs.

“Recently I told them about their parents, that’s why Sukuna started the biting, his sorrow is physically showing. I tried to help but didn’t knew how, but you did, you handled it better than I could.”

“You are still a great father, they might not have come from you, but they are yours. And you did helped them, Sukuna might have received some slaps from Yuuji, but Yuu always hugged him whenever it became too much, and he listened to me instead of throwing a tantrum.” You hold his arm for a second before removing your hand. “You are raising them very well, Mr. Nanami, it’s not easy to be a parent, but you are doing fine.”

“Thank you, and please call me Kento.” It’s not professional, but you nod.

“Okay… Kento.” You whisper his name like a secret, and you wonder if you feel right, but it tastes like honey in your tongue. It’s just a second of both of you staring at each-other for his eyes to move to your lips. You should move back, but you don’t, nor you can. Instead, your eyes go to his pink lips as well. “We should wrap this up, it’s late, right?”

“Yeah, we should.” But none of you move, eyes moving to eyes and lips, over and over, you wet your lips, he groans and lunges at you. You accept him easily, moving your hands to circle his broad shoulders and touch his neck, while his large hands take your waist.

You shouldn’t be doing this, but it feels wrong to not be doing it. So you allow yourself to be kissed hungrily by Kento.

There is three knocks on the door before you both jump apart, your boss, the principal, makes her way in, eyes shinning at seeing Nanami.

“Mr. Nanami, so good to see you here! Would you like to come and have that coffee we were taking about some days ago?”

Kento looks at you, his hair is a little messy and his mouth is red, he looks even more ravishing than before. You cough awkward, grabbing your flowers, bag and the twins’s drawing before moving to his side.

“I’m so sorry, Principal, but Mr. Nanami is giving me a ride home.” The man has his hands on your back in an instant, moving both of you out of the class. “I see you monday.”

The two of you leave the baffled woman behind, Nanami has an eternal perfect smile charming his face, making you want to kiss him even more. Which you do, when he closes the door he opened for you, and enters the car you kiss him, when you both stop at a red light you kiss him. And when he let you at your house, his hands again in your back, he kisses you.

You are too tempted to bring him inside, even more to have your way with him, but he beats you to it, asking you to go out with him the next day.

It’s just the beginning of your blooming relationship, flowers every week, restaurant dates, kisses at every opportunity. You both keep yourselves occupied and yet reserved. He gives you rides home after most staff and students are gone, the boys happily talking with you all the way to your house, and he leaves you at your door with a peck the babies don’t see.

It’s at your last day of the year, all your students glued to you, crying red faces you promise them to always be there when needed, giving the parents your personal number, they happily accept it. Yuuji and Sukuna are the most devasted, their little hands keep you from moving far away from them, and when Nanami comes to pick them up, Sukuna cries together with his brother, taking you by surprise.

You tell them bye and run to your apartment, where you prepare a whole meal and dress nicely, soon you hear the door knocking. When you open, it takes three stunned seconds before two little babies are running to your arms, screaming happily to see you.

“Now it’s a good time to say, Y/n is staying in our lives.” Nanami says while hugging you, both boys in your arms holding you as well.

“Forever?” Sukuna asks, Yuuji stares at you waiting for the answer.

“Yes, my cherubs, forever.”

#♱ 𓂃 ࣪ ˖ on stage ! ᯤ #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento #nanami kento fluff #nanami x reader #nanami x y/n #jjk x reader #jujutsu fluff #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk nanami #jujutsu nanami #nanami fluff #nanami x you #jjk x y/n #jujutsu kaisen nanami #gege when i catch you gege #papamin au

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bloodrvvvsh · 1 year ago

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Code Red, Code Blue. Chapter 1: Acquainted.

Synopsis: When the BAU is led to a case in Seattle, with Seattle Grace Mercy West as the focal point. And after an unfortunate incident involving two cups of hot coffee and a ruined pair of scrubs, Spencer meets a girl that changes his whole life.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Lexie Grey

Warnings: Typical CM discussions of crimes, typical Grey's discussions of gore and medical talk (very minimal, though!), meet-cute, literally one (1) offhanded "killing yourself" joke

Word count: 3.0K

Notes: My baby.. she's finally finished... Please enjoy, I spent way too long on this!

Likes are appreciated, but reblogs and comments help writers more!

Wednesday, September 29. 9:42 AM in Quantico, Virgina.

Spencer had only ever been to Seattle once.

Working in the BAU took him all over the country. Cases popped up in every corner, in every state, in every place you could possibly imagine. He had seen nearly every part of the vast landscape that was the US of A.

The last case that had led them across the country to Seattle was The Seattle Strangler, back when Gideon was still on the team. Spencer had mixed emotions about that thought. But he was a professional and he was going to do his job.

Their current case was as close as you could get to clean cut and dry in their line of work. Women in their 20s being stabbed. Pretty simplistic, right?

The one connection each murder had, though, was that every single woman was eventually directed to Seattle Grace Mercy West. And while the hospital was a fairly major one, it was a Level 1 Trauma Center, after all, which meant a lot of patients, it was definitely raising a few alarm bells in their heads. Each woman was also eventually declared dead at that exact hospital.

It could never hurt to check every possible lead, could it?

Spencer used two fingers to rub at the sleep clinging to his eye still. He tried, and failed, to stifle a yawn as he shifted in his seat. Although he was quite used to struggles with sleep (hence his dependence on caffeine), it never truly got any better.

“Late night?” Morgan inquired. He propped his arms on the top of Spencer’s seat, peering over the other man’s shoulder.

Spencer shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep,” he replied. He frowned softly, continuing to try and rid himself of the tiredness that stuck to his lashes before he was interrupted by another yawn.

God, he could really use some coffee right now.

He glanced down at his watch and his frown deepened. They still had at least another two hours until they would land.

Spencer would consider himself a fairly patient man. He didn’t mind waiting, hell, he most often played the waiting game in his job as a BAU agent. But right now, sitting on that jet running on only five hours of sleep with not a drop of caffeine in sight, he was feeling just one moment away from simply losing it.

Not like it would actually happen, though. Spencer wasn’t that kind of guy. He was calm and reserved, even in the face of adversity.

Hotch’s voice cut through Spencer’s internal monologue for the moment, snapping him back into reality. “We’re going to head to the police station first,” he began, casting a glance over each BAU member in eyesight, “After we get all the necessary facts, we’re going to head to the hospital. Sound good?” He was met with a round of nods from everyone and he nodded back.

Wednesday, September 29. 11:23 AM in Seattle, Washington.

Lexie needed a goddamn break.

Being a surgical resident had to be a punishment designed in one of the seven pits of hell. How dare she desire to save people's lives, right?

At least it was better than being an intern.

She loved her job, don’t get her wrong, being a surgeon was her dream. It’s just that she couldn’t remember the last time she got more than four hours of sleep a night and she was just so tired all the time. From running around constantly to several hours long surgeries to forty-eight hour shifts.

Not to mention the constant drama and tragedy that filled the Seattle Grace Mercy West halls. You couldn’t turn a corner without hearing about someone sleeping with someone else’s boyfriend or about another MerDer breakup or another surprise pregnancy. Really, sometimes it was just ridiculous.

Lexie herself had been the victim of that good ol’ SGMW drama. She was trying to pull herself free from the clutches of it all, but it always seemed to follow them all. Like some sort of curse was placed on that very hospital.

But that was besides the point. The point was that she needed just one moment of peace, away from all the chaos of the hospital and the drama. Was that so selfish of her?

The sound of sneakers shuffling and her racing heart filled Lexie’s ears as she rushed through the halls. The occasional ‘excuse me’ slipped from her lips, trying not to crash into everyone that was in her way.

When your attending pages 911, you don’t walk - you run.

Her feet skidded to a stop as the familiar emergency room came into view, nearly making her trip with the sudden halt. Her movements seemed almost practiced with the near mindless way she moved - triage gown, tie in the back, gloves. This wasn’t her first trauma, and it would be far from the last.

“What do we have?” Bailey’s voice cut through the millions of other noises filling the room - the rustling of fabric, the snapping of latex gloves on skin, the chatter of voices. The ER was ever far from being quiet.

“28-year-old woman stabbed fifteen times in the torso, majority in the chest,” Owen shot back. He rushed forwards when the glint of red and blue lights followed by the sirens that would follow them for the rest of their lives came into view, and the rest of them marched behind.

“God, overkill much?” Cristina muttered low to Meredith. Bailey, who heard everything always, shot a glare over her shoulder. Cristina threw her hands up in defense, eyes wide and eyebrows raised. Her face fell the minute Bailey turned away and she shook her head with a quiet scoff.

The doors to the ambulance flew open and out rushed a woman on a stretcher. “BP is 158 over 92, HR is 92,” an EMT announced. Owen cursed under his breath as he took the railing of the stretcher into his hands.

“She’s hypertensive,” he announced. Quickly, other hands began to grab onto the stretcher as well, guiding the women into the hospital doors. He barked out a few names and different orders and Lexie slowly loosened her grip on the railing as her feet quit keeping pace before stopping entirely. She watched as the woman was rushed towards a trauma room, a frown falling on her lips. Trauma was never a pretty sight.

With a sigh she made her way to the receptionist desk near the ER entrance doors where a few of the other residents left behind had gathered.

“That’s the third stabbing in less than two months,” April remarked. A little frown began to form on her lips as she flipped the chart in her hand. “And they’ve all been women in their late 20s.”

She didn’t have to say it. They were all thinking it. The glances exchanged spoke a thousand words.

“You don’t think..” Meredith trailed off. She shot a look towards Cristina, then glanced back at April. The current hypothesis wasn’t looking so hot.

“It’s probably just a weird coincidence,” Lexie was quick to interject. Her words did little to quell the tense energy that filled the emergency room. “I mean, Seattle’s a big city. Plenty of crazy people doing crazy things. I’m sure they’re not related.” She waved a hand dismissively. Then she added, “It is getting close to the holidays. Don’t crime rates increase during the holiday seasons, or something?”

The pager attached to her hip beeped. She groaned, a pout appearing on her face at the sound. She unclicked it from the waistband of her scrub pants to take a glance at the numbers displayed on the screen and she sighed once more. It was Derek.

With a murmur of, “I’ve got to go,” that was met with a few dismissive waves of goodbyes from her fellow residents, she made her way towards the elevators, absolutely not ready for whatever Derek had in store for her now.

Wednesday, September 29. 2:17 PM in Seattle, Washington.

One thing you never want to hear in a hospital is silence. And that’s exactly Lexie had been greeted when she emerged from the imaging room, a stack of paperwork and scans ordered by Derek in hand. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but something was absolutely happening and she’d be damned if she was left out of it.

It all started to make sense, though, as she made her descent down a floor of stairs and she noticed a group of her coworkers crowded behind a corner. Mentally she counted heads - Cristina, Meredith, Alex, Jackson, April.. All five of them in the same place at the same time, clearly hiding from someone (or something?), always spelled trouble.

Cautiously, she made her way towards the group. She tried to stand on her tip-toes, trying to look over their shoulders to see whatever the hell it was that was making them all stop in their tracks, but to no luck.

Finally with a huff, she decided to pipe up. “What are we looking at?” Her sudden appearance obviously spooked them, as they all nearly jumped at the sound of her voice, but they quickly relaxed when they realized it was just Lexie. She flashed a little smile that was short lived and didn’t quite reach her eyes with an utterance of ‘sorry’.

“Them,” Meredith said. Lexie leaned to the side and she followed the finger that Meredith pointed with. Never would have Lexie guessed what would be standing before her right now.

There, talking to the Chief and Owen, was a group of people that certainly didn’t look like they belonged together. One man in particular, though, stood out among the rest - a tall man with curly brown locks and the most beautiful face Lexie had ever seen. “I heard they’re FBI agents,” Cristina cut in, knocking her out her little lovestruck daydream, and Lexie’s head snapped so quickly to look back at her, it’s a wonder it didn’t break.

“What?” Was all she could manage in response. “FBI, wh-” She shook her head, trying to clear her head from all the thoughts racing through it. “What would the FBI be doing here?” Her voice dropped low, almost to a rushed whisper.

Cristina shrugged. “Hell if I know.” Lexie frowned. And just as she opened her mouth, ready to say more, Owen gestured in the direction of their little gathering. And when the group of supposed FBI agents looked at them, they all took off, scattering away in their different directions, like roaches when you turned the lights on.

Except for Lexie. She was frozen in place, her blood running cold in her body when their hard eyes locked on her. She forced another smile, a nervous little giggle escaping her as heat washed over her cheeks in heavy waves. She raised her free hand to offer them a half-hearted greeting before pointing behind her with her thumb and then promptly spinning on her heel and hurriedly trying to escape the embarrassment that was that interaction.

Wednesday, September 29. 2:45 PM in Seattle, Washington.

Spencer had drank approximately four-and-a-half cups of coffee since landing in Seattle, and he was not quite satisfied yet.

Would he ever truly be satisfied with the amount of caffeine he consumed? Could anyone, really? The answer didn’t really matter. Not to him, anyways. Especially not now, when the tiredness ran bone deep and the day was nowhere near close to being finished. So, he was going to get another cup.

“I’m going to get some coffee,” he announced offhandedly as he pushed himself up from his seat.

Morgan raised an eyebrow at the young genius as he started to make his way in the direction of the coffee machines. “Really?” Morgan said. “Another cup of coffee? Seriously, kid, you’re going to kill yourself with all that caffeine and sugar you consume.” Spencer waved a hand in response and Morgan could only shake head with a small smile falling over his lips.

“Oh, you’re getting coffee?” JJ perked up, craning her neck slightly to catch Spencer’s eye before he disappeared. “Do you think you could get me a cup, too? Please?”

Spencer nodded. “Cream and sugar?” A grin split across JJ’s face at the idea that he remembered what she liked in her coffee. Although, with Spencer, he couldn’t have possibly forgotten in the first place. “You know it!” she called out to him. “You’re the best, Spence!”

“No problem,” he called back to her as he turned the corner.

The trek to the elevator and up to the coffee carts was not a particularly long one, but it did give Spencer enough time to get lost in his thoughts. His movements almost ran on autopilot as he got on the elevator and pressed the button with the number four painted on it.

His feet moved for him, guiding him in the direction of exactly where he wanted to be. Ideas and different theories of their current case filled his head as he walked.

All of this to say - he was not paying attention. Not one bit. Not even as he mindlessly ordered two coffees - one mocha latte with room for sugar and one black with cream and sugar. Not as he began to round the corners that he was starting to become familiar with from turning around so many times due to his near caffeine addiction.

Not even as another body rounded the same corner as him.

It wasn’t until the harsh impact came, the colliding of two people knocking hard into each other and hot coffee being dumped all over each other, that he really came back to reality.

Lexie gasped as the coffee crashed right onto her, burning through her scrubs and stinging her skin. She glanced up, wanting to look whoever just ruined her scrubs in the eye, and it was like the whole world slowed for a moment.

It was cute supposed FBI agent guy.

Her jaw went slack, practically hitting the floor, and all she could do was stare. She almost wanted to pinch herself, check if any of this was really real, but the hot coffee burning her skin told her it was true.

“I’m so sorry,” The words fell out of Spencer’s mouth in an instant. He glanced around in search of something, anything, that could clean up the mess he just made, but he was coming up empty. “Really, I am so sorry-”

Lexie shook her head. “It’s fine-”

Spencer’s eyebrows pinched together. “I just spilled hot coffee all over you, it is not fine.” Lexie could feel her heart skip a beat.

“No, really, it- it’s fine,” she chuckled. “I have another pair of scrubs in my locker, it’s okay.” Spencer didn’t seem satisfied with that answer.

Now it was his turn to shake his head. “Can I make it up to you? You know, for.. getting you doused in coffee and ruining your scrubs.”

Lexie hesitated for a moment. While he was very cute, and seemingly very sweet, she barely knew this guy.

But something inside her told her to take her chance.

“Uh,” she bit down on her bottom lip. She waited for a beat. “Yeah,” she found herself saying, “Yeah, why don’t you buy me a coffee?” Spencer’s whole face lit up at her answer.

Could you blame him, though? Even covered in coffee, the woman before him was absolutely stunning.

“My name’s Spencer,” he finally added. “Spencer Reid. Doctor Spencer Reid, actually.’” Lexie arched a brow at him, head tilting to the side. “Doctor, huh?” she echoed. “Are you, like, new around here, or something? Did you transfer from another hospital?”

“Oh, no. I- I’m not an MD, I’m, uh.. I’m a PhD.”

Lexie slowly nodded her head. “Right,” she muttered. The smile on her face couldn’t seem to budge. “Well, I’m Lexie,” she stuck a hand out to him, “Doctor Lexie Grey, MD.” They both grinned at her words before chuckling. Spencer found himself thinking her name was beautiful. He glanced down at her outstretched hand and then so did she, and for a moment they were both just staring at her hand.

Finally, he spoke up again, “I- I don’t do handshakes,” he spit out. “The number of pathogens passed during a handshake is staggering. It’s, uh- it’s actually safer to kiss.”

Lexie nodded her head once more and let her hand fall back to her side. She ran her palm down the side of her thigh, subtly trying to wipe the gathering sweat. A part of her was tempted to ask if he wanted to kiss her, but she held off. For now.

“So, are you a germaphobe, or something? Or do you just know a lot of different facts?”

“Both, actually,” he said. “I, uh, I have an eidetic memory, so I remember everything I read. A lot about bacteria.”

“An eidetic memory?” Lexie echoed. “Really?”

Spencer nodded, a smirk worming its way onto his lips as he began to rock himself on his heels. “And an IQ of 187 and I can read 20,000 words per minute.”

“Oh, so you’re some sort of super genius, is that what this is?”

Spencer shrugged and his smile seemed to grow. “I don’t think intelligence can be defined by arbitrary measures. But for all intents and purposes, I am a genius.”

“You know, that’s really weird, because I actually have a photographic memory,” Lexie said. She tilted her head to the side again. “Does that make me a genius, too?”

Spencer chuckled. “Well, being a doctor isn’t an easy thing to achieve. Especially being a surgeon. I would imagine you have to be fairly smart to become one.”

Lexie’s own smile seemed to grow as well. “Well, Dr. PhD, why don’t you tell me a little bit more about yourself?” She nodded her head in the direction she came from before she started to walk. And Spencer found himself following behind her.

For some reason, Spencer felt like he wasn’t going to regret spilling coffee on her.

for @gghostwriter bc i don't have a taglist <3

(if you would like to be crcb taglist, let me know!!)

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guess-my-next-obsession · 1 month ago

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blue. | chapter one

pairing: bfd!joel miller x curvy!fem!reader

chapter warnings: series is 18+ only, MINORS DNI, age gap (reader's age is set at 25, joel is 40), best friend's dad trope, reader works at a bikini bar (race is a blank slate but reader is described as being curvy/plus size and is very much comfortable in her skin), divorced!joel, alcohol consumption, i think that's all for now :)

word count: 4k

next chapter | series masterlist

Blue.

It’s the color of your bikini top, the shade of your painted nails, the flavor of the popsicle you reach for when the Texas heat gets to be too much. It’s your chosen name here at The Boot—the bikini bar you’ve been working at for the last year since graduating college.

Every girl who works up front is given a code name, something catchy for regulars to remember. It helps build a sense of familiarity without compromising privacy or safety, and given the nature of the job, you can never be too safe.

One month into the job, you’d seen first-hand just how obsessed some customers can get. A girl who’d been working at The Boot a year or two longer than you slipped up one night when talking to one of the newer bartenders. Instead of calling her by her chosen name, Peaches, she used her real name, Deanna. What should have been a silly mistake turned into something dark and dangerous when a customer that had been a bit too interested in Deanna finally had a name to go off of. A quick internet search led him right to her front door. Thankfully, her husband was the one to open the door that night—with a loaded shotgun in hand—but it was a close enough call to scare Deanna away from The Boot for good.

Ever since then, everyone keeps their real names to themselves. The minute you step through that door, you’re no longer the person you’ve always been. Here at The Boot, you’re Blue, the unattainable, curvy, slightly sarcastic but always flirty bartender that keeps customers coming back for more even though they’ll never get it.

And most of the time, you enjoy playing the part.

It’s almost like being a part of a cast, coming here to work with a bunch of women who you’ll never really know. You might see them outside of work here and there, but it’s always a character you’re running into. The customers are no different. They come here playing a part, and you play one right back.

There’s no truth in any of it, and that’s usually for the best.

But there are moments, like this one tonight, that make you wish for a little bit of honesty.

Because if you’re being honest, the man sitting at the end of the bar—the man with dark brown eyes, soft, messy waves in his hair, and shoulders broad enough to bring a girl to her knees—looks a whole lot like someone you’d like the other version of you to meet. The girl who has more to offer than a fake name and an exaggerated persona. The girl who could bring a man like him home for the night without the nagging thought that he’s only doing it to say he managed to bed one of the illusive girls at The Boot.

But as it stands, the only girl he’ll get to meet is Blue. And Blue isn’t the kind of girl to bring home a customer, no matter how much she might want to.

“What can I get you, handsome?” The compliment is genuine, but it’s also something you’d say to any man who sat down at your zone of the bar.

Judging by the way Mr. Tall, Dark, and Rugged looks at you, his brown eyes sparkling red and blue from the neon signs behind you, tells you that he knows that too.

“Whiskey neat.” His voice is deep and rough, with just the slightest hint of a Texas twang. It’s as sexy as he is, and that’s just plain cruel.

You give him a quick smile before turning to the wall of liquor behind you and grabbing a bottle of Jack off the shelf, only for him to stop you.

“The good whiskey,” he says, bringing your eyes back to his for a beat.

You smile and nod as you turn back to the wall and grab one of the nicer bottles off the top shelf before turning back to the bar to pour his glass. “What’s the occasion?”

He sighs as he turns towards the entrance, seemingly waiting for someone to walk through the door. “No occasion. Just a…date, I guess.”

You slide the crystal tumbler towards top before resting your elbows on the wooden bar top, a tactic you usually use to get bigger tips after giving customers an eyeful of cleavage, but there’s no hidden agenda behind it tonight. “No judgement and all, but is this really the best place to bring a woman on a date?”

He breathes out a humorless chuckle as he lifts the glass up to his lips for a sip. “Believe it or not, this was her idea. I’ve never been here so I just thought this was a normal bar, not...”

“Not one notch from a strip club,” you say with a smirk. “Yeah, I can’t say I’d ever bring a date here. When I go out with someone, I want to be the only thing they’re looking at all night.” Leaning in conspiratorially, you lower your voice to a whisper and give him a wink. “The next morning, too.”

He eyes you for a moment, a soft, barely there smile tugging at his lips as his eyes bounce across your features before he finally lets out a breathy chuckle. You get the sense that this is the closest thing to a full laugh he gives most people.

“Yeah, well…can’t imagine that’s all that hard to do,” he says, glancing down at his cup just as the door opens and a long-legged redhead steps inside the building.

Dressed in skin-tight jeans, a low-cut black tank, and a pair of heels, she looks like a femme fatale straight out of every man’s wet dream. She’s older than you, but not quite as old as the man in front of you—if he’s somewhere in his forties, she’s around her late thirties. Her walk exudes the femininity and sensuality of a woman who’s lived plenty life, the sway of her hips and upward tilt of her chin carrying an air of confidence you haven’t yet mastered.

And, of course, she’s headed straight towards Mr. Tall, Dark, and Rugged.

“Joel,” she purrs from behind him, her voice just as graceful as her gait. The man in front of you—Joel, it seems—turns his head towards her, a cold look washing over his face as he takes her in.

Maybe he’s just as intimidated by her as you are.

“Shannon,” he says, extending his hand out for her to take. Her perfectly manicured hand fits in his softly as she takes him in, her green eyes bouncing across his handsome features before trailing down to the T-shirt and jeans he’s wearing. She frowns in disapproval.

“Did you come straight from work?” There’s a disappointed lilt to her voice. As if this obviously blue-collar man showing up to a run down bikini bar on a Friday night in a pair of faded blue jeans and a simple black T-shirt actually irks her.

Clearly much too invested in their interaction, you force yourself to move down the bar to check in on Jerome—a regular that’s been coming here since long before you were hired. He’s not awful as far as regulars go. Jerome just likes to sit down on his favorite stool every night and drink until he’s blind. Sometimes, he’ll make conversation, but more often than not, he just sits there and quietly sips his drink.

“Doin’ good over here, Jer?” you ask, propping your hip against the counter as you follow his gaze towards Joel’s date.

Maybe it’s telling that you managed to remember his name and not hers.

“S’that your cup of tea?” you ask with a smirk. He’s not usually the ogling kind, despite his favorite bar being so catered to the male gaze.

“Looks just like my wife,” he says, his slurred words thick with something heavy. “Ex-wife, I s’pose.”

“She must’ve been a real looker back in the day, then.”

He scoffs, lifting his glass to his lips. “Looked good enough to fuck the whole neighborhood and leave me with nothin’ but a broken heart and a lifetime of alimony payments.”

Unsure of what exactly to say to that, you decide to cut through the tension with a joke. “You should go warn him then. Save him the trouble.”

Jerome eyes you for a moment before turning back to the couple. With a huff, he sets his drink down and stands up, stumbling down the empty bar to where Joel is seated and his date is still standing.

You hiss at him to sit back down, but he’s got a drunken, one-track mind right now.

“Pardon me, son,” he slurs, tapping Joel on the shoulder as you look on with abject horror written all over your face. “You ever had your heart broken before?”

Joel’s eyes narrow with confusion as he looks at Jerome before letting his gaze travel to you down the bar. Averting your eyes, you quickly grab a cloth and pretend to wipe the perfectly clean counter rather than continue to watch the scene you accidentally crafted unfold.

“Yeah, somethin’ like that,” Joel says, his voice colder than it had been with you. His date scoffs from beside him, and his eyes roll in response.

“Well, women like your friend right here are nothin’ but heart breakers wrapped in a pretty package,” he says, though his words are hardly intelligible. “Best t’stay away from ‘em if y’can.”

“Jerome,” you hiss, and thankfully, he listens this time. “Come sit down. I’ll pour you one on the house.”

Jerome nods before turning back to Joel and patting him on the shoulder. “Y’hear me?”

Joel’s lips purse but he gives him a quick nod before turning back to the woman beside him. They fall into quiet, but strained conversation as you fix your attention back onto Jerome.

“I didn’t mean for you to actually go up to him, Jer,” you scold, refilling his jack and coke. “Can’t have you cock-blocking during people’s dates.”

He chuckles and tilts his head towards the pair. “Hardly looks like there’s gonna be any cock to block between them two.”

You let yourself steal a few glances their way as subtly as you can manage, and sure enough, the two of them look like they’re ready to claw each other’s throats out.

Maybe this isn’t a budding relationship, after all.

Maybe there’s some sort of history here that’s got Joel on edge and Jolene—you still can’t remember her name for the life of you—on defense mode.

“What do you think the story is, then?” you ask, unable to stop yourself.

“Mm, maybe she ran off with his dog to play house with his best friend,” he muses, rubbing two fingers against his gray, wiry beard as the two of you eavesdrop together.

“Maybe he was the one that hurt her,” you say, although your gut is telling you that’s not the case. Jolene looks too smug, too amused by Joel’s rigid posture to be the wronged. “Or maybe it’s some kind of role play they get up to. Who fucking knows”

“Why don’t you go on and ask?” Jerome says with a drunken smile. “You seem so goddamn interested, after all.”

You feign a gasp, clutching your nonexistent pearls. “You’re the one who stumbled over there with words of advice.”

“Well, you told me to,” he counters.

Rolling your eyes, you decide to venture over there and check in on the pair, telling yourself it’s just because Joel’s drink is empty and his date has yet to order.

“Can I get y’all started on another round?”

Joel sighs and swings his head towards you, an almost pleading look in his dark brown eyes. “Just the tab.”

Jolene scoffs and levels a glare at you. “I’d like a drink. Or are you only serving men tonight?”

Arching an eyebrow at her, you nearly tell her to fuck right off with her attitude, but Joel cuts in before you get the chance.

“This clearly isn’t workin’, Shannan,” he says, hanging his head for a beat before lifting his defeated gaze to meet hers. “Let’s just sign the papers and be done with it.”

Sensing that this moment is about to get a whole lot more personal than you’d like, you step away—back towards Jerome—and watch as Shannan, not Jolene, pulls a folder out of her giant purse and shoves it towards Joel.

“Seventeen years down the drain just like that,” she says, tutting her tongue as she watches him slip the papers out and pull a pen from his back pocket. “All because I made a little mistake?”

Joel says nothing in response as he signs his name on each flagged line while you, Jerry, and Shannan all look on with varying levels of interest.

Leaning over the bar, close enough for you to smell the liquor and cigarettes on his breath, Jerry whispers. “I don’t think it’s role play, darlin’.”

It’s a quarter past midnight by the time you close out and hang up your metaphorical apron. The bar’s nearly empty, save for a few stragglers that like to stick around until Miguel—the closing manager—kicks them out.

With your purse slung over your shoulder and your tips securely tucked away inside a zip-lock for you to count out in the morning, you make your way out of the bar and into the warm summer night. You traded your bikini top for a tank, but with it being this sweltering out, you almost wish you hadn’t. Sweat trickles down the nape of your neck to the valley between your breasts, drawing a map to a very neglected part of your body, because despite what most customers must think of you considering your line of work, you just haven’t had the time or energy to get much action lately.

That and the dating pool is more like a cesspit these days.

Breathing out a sigh, you listen to your feet as they crunch against the gravel parking lot with each step towards your old beater of a truck. It’s a hand-me-down from your father, one of the only good things he’s ever given you, and that’s not saying much considering how often the old Ford ends up at the mechanic’s.

Just as you open up the cab and set your purse inside, your phone rings and illuminates the darkness around you. You pick up the call with a smile on your face, already anticipating what stories your best friend will have to tell from her Friday night in Dallas.

Sarah’s four years younger than you, but the friendship came easy anyways. You were late to go to college, having to stick around and save up for school after graduating high school, and Sarah was an early graduate at just seventeen. Getting paired up to share a dorm freshman year was pure coincidence, but everything afterwards felt like destiny. She’d been the little sister you never had, the confidant you always longed for, and in return you helped steer her away from frat boys.

“Hey,” you say, cradling the phone between your shoulder and ear as you heave yourself into the truck. “How was the date with Chad? Or was it Kyle? I can’t remember which finance-bro you’re talking to right now.”

“Ha-ha, very funny,” Sarah says. “His name is Marcus, and he’s actually an attorney. Very fancy. Very sexy. Kind of boring.”

“Just your type,” you tease as the engine roars to life. “Does he get a second date?”

“Eh,” she hums, and you can practically see her tilting her head to either side. “We’ll see. He didn’t try to take me home on the first date, so that’s a win. But anyways, I didn’t call to give you a rundown on my shitty love life. Are you doing tomorrow?”

You chuckle dryly. “Besides working? No. You know I’m a hermit unless I’m getting paid to be a social butterfly.”

“Okay, well I miss you enough to pay you to come see me,” she says. “All the beer and carne asada you can eat if you come with me to my dad’s barbecue tomorrow afternoon.”

You bite your lip, contemplating the offer. It’s not as if you don’t miss your best friend. After living together all throughout college, it’s a special kind of torture having to be this far apart from each other—her busy with her new career in Dallas and you stuck here in Austin. You just haven’t felt like yourself in a while.

Call it the breakup blues, but ever since your last relationship, you’ve found a certain comfort in staying home and wallowing by yourself. But you’ve been a lonely hermit for far too long, and the thought of seeing Sarah after so many months of distance is just appealing enough to have you considering coming out of your shell.

“I’ll have to find someone to cover for me, but it’s a yes, if I can get off work,” you say. “Your dad’s here in Austin, right?”

You’d heard plenty about her dad over the years. According to Sarah, he was the best dad in the world. It was her stepmom, the one who came in a few years after her biological mom had passed, that sucked.

“Yeah, he just moved into a new place a few streets down from your apartment, actually,” she says. “So you definitely can't flake and blame it on the commute.”

Rolling your eyes, you hold up your middle finger to the phone even though she can’t see the gesture. “Fine, I’ll try my best to show up and meet daddy dearest. But it’s time for me to go home and get into bed. Long shift. Weird divorce paper exchange from a pair of customers tonight. The guy was sexy and completely not age appropriate and the wife was a cunt.”

“Oh, the joys of working at The Boot,” she sighs. “Text me when you’re home.”

“Will do. Love ya.”

“Love ya back.”

You weren’t able to get your shift covered last minute, but thankfully, one of the morning girls offered to switch shifts with you. Truthfully, she got the better end of the deal considering how slow and cheap the morning patrons are. But you’ve saved up enough to not need the tips for one night, and seeing Sarah is more than worth the sacrifice.

It’s nearly the end of your shift when a familiar face steps into the bar, his dark eyes scanning the room until they land on you. Feeling nervous for no apparent reason, you shoot Joel a smile and a wave.

He’s in a hunter green T-shirt today that pulls against his broad chest and shoulders, accentuating the light brown of his skin, and unlike last night, he put on a pair of stainless dark wash jeans that hug his long legs just right. If the whole blue-collar, working man thing did it for you last night, this cleaned up version of him is enough to make you sweat.

“Blue,” he says, glancing at your name tag that’s pinned to the flimsy fabric of your bralette. “I see they’ve got y’all in even less clothes than last night.”

You laugh without faking it. “Saturday is lingerie night—or day, I guess. If you’re looking to find me a little more covered up, I’d suggest coming on Sunday. We wear tank tops on the Lord’s day.”

Giving you a devastating smile, he nods and raps his knuckles against the bar top, eyeing the liquor behind you rather than meeting your stare. “I wasn’t complainin’.”

You breathe out a sigh in an attempt to clear your stomach of the butterflies fluttering there. “Can I get you something to drink? My shift’s almost over, but I’ll leave you in the hands of one of the other girls. They’re even easier on the eyes than me.”

His eyes flit back to yours before dropping to your cleavage and back up. “I don’t know about that.”

Yeah.

Fuck him and these fucking butterflies.

“But, no. I didn’t come for a drink. Or—well, I guess I did,” he says, suddenly going shy on you as he shuffles his feet and looks away. “I was wonderin’ if y’all sell drinks to go. I got a little get together I’m throwin’ tonight.”

“Looks like everyone’s throwing a party tonight,” you say, smiling. “Yeah, we sell cocktails by the gallon. But I’m going to warn you, the way I make them is fruity and highly dangerous. I’d sip with caution, unless you plan on giving your guests a striptease tonight.”

Another slight tug of his lips. “Unlike you, I don't think many people would enjoy the sight of me stripping down.”

“You'd be surprised,” you flirt, and for once, it’s not an act. “Anyways, let me go ahead and get those drinks started for you. It’ll just take a second.”

“No rush,” he says, settling into one of the stools.

His presence is a warm thing, even with your back turned as you go through the motions of funneling vodka, rum, and tequila into the different cocktail gallons. You can feel his gaze on your body, trailing across the expanse of your exposed curves and dips, right down to the round globes of your ass hardly concealed by a pair of lacy blue boyshorts. They’re just see-through enough to give him a glimpse at the skin beneath, but you feel naked in a way you don’t normally. Being a curvy woman in this industry usually means one of two things—either you’re fetishized or you’re ignored.

But it’s different with Joel. You don’t feel like he’s eyeing you like this because you fit some sort of kink he’s into. It just feels he’s a man who likes what he sees.

Clearing your throat, you start talking just to keep yourself from thinking. “So what’s the party for?”

“Well, as I’m sure you saw last night, I’m gettin’ a divorce,” he says, his deep voice bringing an ache to your core despite the nature of the conversation. There’s nothing sexy about divorce, nor should there be about a man at least fifteen years your senior. But here you are, turned on anyways. “The party was my brother’s idea. Get myself back out there and all that. Socialize.”

“You don’t sound too happy about that.”

He scoffs. “I’m not all that enthusiastic about startin’ over again at my age, that’s all.”

“How old are you?”

God, please don’t let him be older than your father.

“Forty,” he says.

That’s not too bad. Just fifteen years. He was practically still a kid when you were born. Totally acceptable.

Right?

“You’re still plenty young,” you say, rather than what you want to say. “Don’t hang your hat up just yet.”

“Easy for you to say,” he chuckles. “You don’t have a bad back or achy knees yet.”

“Hey, I work on my feet all day,” you challenge, shooting him a smirk from over your shoulder and inadvertently confirming your suspicions on what his eyes were locked in on. Turning back around, you hide the way your lips part in response. “My back aches plenty.”

Silence falls between the two of you as you finish up his gallons just in time to clock out. You quickly ring him up and slide the jugs his way, but he must be feeling just as flustered over the interaction as you are given the way his eyes refuse to meet yours for long.

“Remember what I said about those drinks,” you say, catching him as he hurries to leave. Joel shoots a bashful smile your way, tipping his chin at you before pushing through the door.

And for the first time in your career—if that’s what you’d call this job—you hope to run into a customer outside of work.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller tlou #joel tlou #tlou joel #tlou fic #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us hbo #joel the last of us #bfd!joel miller #blue

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respectthepetty · 1 year ago

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Hii! Just wanted to make sure you knew that the Your Dear Daddy trailer should be subbed now on YouTube! I just found out from your post it released and went over there to watch it expecting to make use of the 50 Thai words in my brain, but turns out I didn't need them!

Anon, thanks for letting me know, so I can be even more unhealthy about this show.

*trying not to make tea kettle noises*

BECAUSE THIS IS WHY SILA IS A HEAVENLY HUMAN!

WHEN HE SHOULD BE RED!

He will become this man's angel on earth and help him see the light.

He is going to save him from himself.

They are going to save each other.

And it's all because of divine intervention.

Which I'm sure involves that ring.

This show is about to get a colors award from a pilot trailer alone because THIS IS GENIUS!

Give me the story of a red devil turning into a white knight/angel to save a sad blue boy.

GIVE ME THE COLORS!

#your dear daddy #your dear daddy the series #the colors mean things #color coded boys in love #God and destiny have entered the color coded arena #red thread of destiny #maybe #heavenly human and sad blue boy #definitely #I was already at a 10 on the hype scale #now my heart is beating too fast and I need to calm down

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loganjameshowlett · 1 month ago

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SWALLOWTAIL

01: PRAHA

pairing: joaquín torres/ex-widow!reader summary: sam, bucky, and joaquín find you with a proposal word count: 7.4k+ series masterlist | next installment

The man is unremarkable.

Slate hair on an expedition away from his forehead, though combed into a respectable style. Grey-blue eyes as murky and opaque as the waters of the Vltava. A long face, sharp chin angled into the upturned collar of his dark jacket. The café is crowded, and he does not strike you as particularly observant, sitting as he is with his eyes on his latte and a yellowed paperback whose cover has been half torn off. Foolish. New to the game, perhaps, though that is hard to picture, given his age. Maybe just new to the field. A desk jockey on his first field assignment. Could be a midlife crisis situation, you muse. Easy money, whatever the case. Laughable.

But then again, you’d take laughable gratefully after the ringer the last few had put you through.

He had made his way into the café two hours ago, and was still nursing the same cup of coffee he ordered when he came in. He rarely changed positions, skinny left leg thrown crossed over the right at the knee, elbows decorously kept off the table even as he held his book up in front of his face. He bored you within five minutes of watching him. Within three, you had realized he wouldn’t need very close watching at all, and you allowed yourself the luxury of letting your mind wander away from your mark. The couple at the table to your left was arguing in Czech– he had promised to accompany her on a trip to Sofia to visit her family and was now trying to beg off due to work– and the old man with cute tortoiseshell glasses a few tables in front of you was talking warmly to his grandchildren in gravelly-voiced Italian. The couple argued for the better part of an hour, which, at least, helped you pass the time.

When the unremarkable man stands from his unremarkable table inside of this unremarkable café beneath the watchful shadow of Prague Castle, you drain the rest of your mug. The door doesn’t have time to close before you’ve slipped out behind him. The man tracks down the road with his hands in his pocket, and boards a tram headed down the hill and across the river into the heart of Old Town. He sits in the front– you can’t believe your eyes when he hardly glances at the other passengers before sitting down– and you sit in the back, head catty cornered in the curve of the wall in order to watch him and everyone else.

The Red Room hasn’t caught onto the fact that you’ve made base in Prague, as far as you know. Most of your work you did outside of the city, and largely outside of Czechia altogether. Frankly, it annoyed you that one of theirs was toddling around your city, and such an obvious dunce at that. Though it did make the job easier. Less travel, if nothing else.

He gets off the tram in Old Town and starts ambling his way toward the Astronomical Clock. Heading towards the most touristy piazza in the city. Obvious, but not a bad move. Would be easier for him to lose a tail there than in most other parts of the city. It also, fortunately for you, made your job a lot easier.

The Red Room hadn’t entrusted him with any crucial information, obviously. They did this kind of thing sometimes, letting a desk jockey get the taste of the field when they had something menial that needed to get done and didn’t care if the operative got themselves killed. Usually low level information trade offs between Widow handlers, which is exactly what Unremarkable Man is doing in your city. It boiled down to glorified elementary school note passing, essentially. But the coded message he was carrying on a usb hung like dog tags around his neck would tell you where Solenne Rousseau would be carrying out her next mission. And with any luck, you’d be there to intercept and break her conditioning.

Seven ex-Widows were free to move about the world as they liked, armed with new identities and new lives, because of the work you’d been doing since you became a free agent two years ago. Your extensive knowledge of how the Red Room operated, even if said knowledge is a little dated these days, made your attempts to break Widow brainwashing more successful than other’s; your brief time working with SHIELD before they imploded gave you the skills and connections you needed to spirit the newly freed women away to lives where they can make their own choices and live in relative safety. The work was never done– The Red Room stole and trained up little girls faster than you could blink– but it’s the only worthwhile thing you could think to do with your life. Especially now, free from the Red Room as you are but severed from the only people you had come to trust since your Widow days.

In the thick of the crowd beneath the astronomical clock, it is easy for you to sidle right up to Unremarkable Man’s back. Your fingers are swift as they unclip the chain around his neck, and you nudge him into the path of a large group of French tourists. Their disgruntled jostling and sidestepping allows you to pull the usb and chain out from beneath his sweater without his noticing. Within seconds, the crowd has swelled between the two of you, taking you out of the range of his sight. In another few seconds, you’re out of the square entirely, taking a meandering route home. It’s a beautiful day after all, unseasonably warm for early spring, and with the day’s one task being such a cinch, you had a stretch of languid time to actually enjoy it.

You rent a two-room flat in Prague 2, close enough to your favorite part of the city, Old Town, without having to deal with the worst of the thronging tourists. The street is cobbled and tree-lined, and the building a pleasantly bright, white-painted limestone. Kids fill it with laughter and shouting on their way home from school every day, and your windows get full sun. You’ve spent the last six months trying to convince your mind to see the place as home after more than fifteen years without one, but you’re starting to think that home might be a concept too alien for you to comprehend.

You are six blocks away from your building when things start to feel wrong.

A prickle on the back of your neck, the unmistakable feeling of someone watching you. The street was just busy enough to mask anyone obviously following you at a quick glance, and looking about any more thoroughly than that would tip off any pursuers that you were onto them, so no can do. Maintaining a leisurely pace, you take a left, moving away from your building and towards a shopping street that you know is always crowded.

You’ve considered this scenario before, of course. Being who you are, it was only a matter of time before someone came after you. You try to keep on the move, lay low, continuously update your cache of false documents. The mistake you made was deciding that you could stay in Prague just because you like it. Just because it felt like a place you could one day think of as your own. Even rookies know that staying put might as well be a death sentence. Is it the Red Room closing in on you now? Somebody you went after in your SHIELD days?

The possibilities twist through your mind in a tumult as you use the crowd for cover from your pursuer. You slip into a deli that you know has a back exit, emptying into a wide alley inhabited by dumpsters and questionable puddles. You meld into the shadows at the back of the alley just in time for the door you just came out of to bang open once again. Three men pour out onto the cobblestones, taking a few steps before realizing that the freedom of direction once leaving the alley would make their mark impossible to follow now.

It takes a second for you to place the taller two, but once you do, you sigh, hand dropping from the gun holstered beneath your jacket.

“What the hell do you two think you’re doing?” you ask, stepping forward and crossing your arms over your chest. All three men whip around to face you. The dark-haired one all the way to the left hisses out a shit, hand coming up to his heart.

“Good to see you, too,” Sam Wilson says, your name warm and bright from his mouth. You scowl.

“Wilson. Barnes. Did you come all the way to Europe just to stalk me through my neighborhood?” You ask, leveling a decidedly unimpressed stare at the pair of them, and the wide-eyed kid they seemed to have acquired since the last time you saw them.

“We need to talk,” Bucky says, face and voice serious. You’ve always appreciated his ability to cut right to the chase. “And not in this alley.”

You have known Sam and Bucky to historically get into some bullshit, but you also know they wouldn’t have come all the way to Czechia if it wasn’t dire. It’s probably something you don’t want to hear. Something that will distract you from your own work, almost assuredly. Unfortunately, they are also two of the only people you still currently trust on Earth, and for that they deserve an audience, if nothing else.

“Fine,” you decide. “Come on.”

—

Your flat is the most airtight place you could take them to talk, but that’s not saying much. You sweep it regularly, of course: no bugs, no cameras. You looked into all of your neighbors when you moved in, and you do as extensive a dive as you can into each person that moves in after you. Still, it’s an old Central European apartment building. The walls are thin, and anyway, you’re only one person. Thorough as you are, there’s always the chance that you missed something.

But there isn’t a better alternative, so you herd the three men up four flights of stairs and into your tiny apartment. The tall ceilings help to accommodate them, but even so, you feel kind of squished. You’ve never had so many people in here before. You’ve never had anyone in here before.

“This the kid wearing your old wings?” you ask Sam, gesturing at Brown Eyes, who had immediately begun pacing the limited floor space upon entering your apartment, clearly brimming with unshed energy. His steps falter with your question, and he casts a startled kind of glance over at Sam.

“You keeping tabs on me?” Sam asks, voice sly.

“You’re Captain fucking America, Sam. I’d have to work harder to not know what you’re up to.”

“That’s Joaquín Torres, and yes, he does wear the wings now,” Sam says.

“Nice to meet you,” Joaquín says brightly, extending a hand. You glance down at it and then back up to his face, before relenting to one curt shake. “I don’t just wear the wings, I’m the new Falcon.”

“No, you’re not,” Sam interjects.

You tell Joaquín your name, trying out the whole polite, small talk thing he seems pretty eager to partake in. “They call me Swallowtail in the field.”

It was a name Maria Hill had given you, after breaking your Red Room conditioning and taking you under her wing at SHIELD, however briefly. You wear it with a pride not reserved for many other things.

“Oh, shit, you’re Swallowtail?” Joaquín asks, eyes widening. “The ops you did with Agent Hill are legendary, dude. It’s an honor.”

Your eyes narrow at him as you try to assess, for about the half-dozenth time since he busted into the alley, what his deal is. Giving up the ghost, you set your sights on Bucky instead. “What are you doing here?”

“We need your help,” he says, and the gravity of his tone stops the first response that comes to your head from actually leaving your mouth. They deserved to at least have you hear them out, you had decided. You’ll follow through on that, even if you are already bursting to just say no and be done with it.

“A piece of modified Stark technology resurfaced a few days ago,” Sam starts in. “The Aetos Device. Heard of it?”

When you shake your head in the negative, he carries on. “Stark thought it up during the very early Iron Man days. It’s a power nullifier– disrupts essentially any kind of power, from Hulk’s gamma radiation situation, to newly-awakened Inhuman genes, to every kind of mutation a mutant could be born with. In the end, Tony never built it– too much like playing God even for him, I guess– but the schematics were recently discovered to be among several dozen stolen by HYDRA during their infiltration of SHIELD.”

“Two nights ago, a teenage mutant was killed with the device as part of a demonstration for prospective buyers,” Bucky cuts in. “His mutation was too essential to the basic workings of his biology, so it didn’t just depower him– it murdered him. Slowly and painfully. They watched as he suffered a deadly heart attack in front of them.”

Your chest constricts at the thought. The ability to depower any superhero at any time is enough to bring the world to a halt, or give Hydra the upper hand they would need to take over the world, or whatever it is they want to do these days. But the effect the device had on this mutant? Hydra could deploy a mutant genocide at any time.

“The three of you are hunting it down?” you ask, surfacing from your thoughts.

“Hoping it’ll be the four of us,” Sam answers. “None of us have powers, which gives us an advantage. They can’t take our skill sets away– it has to be us. You have the most active connections and up-to-date intel on the happenings in Europe, too, which we’ll need. My source tracked someone useful to us right here, in Prague.”

“You know I don’t do teams, Sam.”

“Seems like a waste,” Joaquín says pointedly. His body language– arms crossed over his chest, chin dipped so he’s looking down his nose at you– makes you want to squirm. You know what he’s thinking, and he’d be right: no hero like the ones he’s used to would do anything in this situation except climb aboard right away. To do anything else would be selfish.

“We know how you feel about teams,” Sam cedes.

“So, then–” you start, but Bucky cuts you off.

“You trusted us before. Helped us out of more than a few binds when we were on the run. It wasn’t that long ago that we had each other’s backs. Seems kind of like a team, doesn’t it?”

“I could’ve left you idiots to fend for yourselves,” you say, feeling defensive.

“But you didn’t,” Sam responds, like you’re making his point for him. “And being a member of a team didn’t kill you then, did it?”

A beat of silence as you glare at each of them in turn, thinking.

“I think you wanna help,” Sam declares.

“Oh yeah, seems like historically you do wanna help,” Joaquín tacks on.

“Fine,” you say, stepping towards Sam and jabbing your pointer finger at him. “One mission. Then I go back to what I’ve been doing here.”

“One mission,” Sam echoes, looking at you with that stupid smile on his face.

—

It only took about ten more minutes to decide that you wanted to punch Sam Wilson in the head.

Your simple question of what next? was met with the admission that the intel they were working with and the safehouse they were working out of were both courtesy of Contessa de Fontaine. Not exactly the most trustworthy fucking person to rely on for information or safety of any kind, no matter what excuses came out of Sam’s mouth.

“I am well aware of the Contessa’s past. I don’t even trust her as far as I can throw her, believe me, but her intel hasn’t led us astray once,” Sam defends. The angrier you look, the less able to stop talking he seems to be. Good, you’d like to sit here and see how he tries to talk himself out of this one.

“You’ve relied on her intel how many times?” you ask. Bucky shoots you a stern look in the rearview mirror of the car they had led you to once you agreed to join up, like he’s asking you to let up a little on Sam. Not a fucking chance.

“A few! It’s been accurate every time. There’s no reason to think this time would be different.”

“It’s fucking stupid is what it is,” you mutter. Outside the tinted window, the crowded streets of red-roofed buildings thin into newer, sadder looking apartment blocks. Prague holds more charm than it knows what to do with usually, but sometimes this sad, Soviet remnant peaks through in communist architecture, or a certain feeling tied to a sparse, gray-skied winter day. Despite the sun, you’re feeling grim.

Joaquín shifts from the other side of the back seat, scooting forward and reaching over the console to turn the radio on, twirling the volume knob until some obnoxious slavic pop song fills the taut silence. He offers a sheepish smile and a shrug in return to the look you shoot him as he settles back into his seat.

Guess we’re done talking about that, then.

The safehouse is in a largely derelict apartment building on the outskirts of the city, close, Bucky tells you, to the private airstrip where things will be going down later in the night. The plan seems pretty simple: Jan Novotny, a pretty well-known black market arms dealer, is meeting a mysterious buyer who the Contessa claims has information on the Aetos Device. Apparently Joaquín is some kind of tech genius, and all the four of you need to do is get into the hangar, incapacitate the mysterious buyer’s guards long enough to copy shit over from his drive, and get out. With any luck, the guy will have the Aetos Device’s location stored somewhere on his drive, and the rest of the mission will be as straightforward as going and getting it.

“Seems like a longshot,” you say, when they finish explaining the plan. Your voice echoes in the apartment, which is mostly empty except for a table strewn with various supplies and a makeshift tech center you assume is for Joaquín set up haphazardly in the corner.

“Maybe, but we don’t have anything better,” Bucky says. “The guy’s not gonna have the device on him. Getting the intel like this is our most pain-free option, and will hopefully let us continue flying under the radar for a little while longer.”

“Right,” you nod. “Then we better make sure to stay under the radar tonight. If they realize we’re on them it might spook them into changing their plans and moving the device faster.”

“Why do I feel like you’re saying that because you don’t think we can manage incognito?” Sam asks.

You raise an eyebrow, looking at him and Bucky in turn. “I remember Linz. And Basel. Do you?”

“Touché,” Sam cedes. “We have a few hours to kill until we can gear up and get going.”

“I want the–” Before you can finish your sentence, Bucky is already thrusting a manila folder, the edges dotted with silver paper clips, toward you. You take it with a thank you, flipping it open immediately. The intel is sparse, only a dozen papers inside at most. A few CCTV stills printed on glossy paper are paper clipped to the front of the folder, and a rundown on Novotny complete with a mugshot of his long, scar-pocked face waits for you at the top of the pile. Glancing up, you spot a dingy plastic chair shoved haphazardly against the wall near the tech set up, and you cross the room in a few quick strides, planting yourself on the seat. You’re hoping to commit most of this stuff to memory before you get out in the field.

A few minutes later, Joaquín settles down in front of the field laptop and turns it on. The screen’s glow is the brightest thing in the dank apartment, and washes the plains of his face in pale blue. Every couple of minutes or so, you feel his eyes shift from the screen to you, lingering a few moments before turning back to whatever he is tapping away at. The fifth time he does this, you look up and meet his eyes. He freezes for a moment before glancing back at his screen, that same sheepish smile from the car spreading across his face. In the screen glow, you can just barely see the heat in his cheeks.

A few minutes later, Joaquín seems to finish whatever he was doing on the computer. Across the room, Sam and Bucky are bickering about something while Bucky cleans a gun and Sam leisurely packs things from the table into a compact duffel bag. Joaquín’s hands go to his lap, his right foot tapping rhythmically on the floor. His fidgety energy has your hackles up for no good reason.

“What was it like, working with Maria Hill?” Joaquín asks suddenly. You glance up at his face– open and expectant– before glancing down at the page you are in the middle of reading, and then back up at him again. His brown eyes seem to literally be sparkling despite the lack of real light in the room.

You apparently sit silently for too long, because Joaquín presses onward. “I mean, she’s like, mythological. Is she really that much of a badass?”

“I doubt that the things you’ve heard even come close to the truth of Agent Hill,” you tell him, before pointedly returning your eyes to the intel in your hands.

“Cool,” Joaquín says, voice colored by genuine awe. You can feel him wanting to ask more questions, but your eyes stay studiously on the folder in front of you. Eventually he gives up, standing and joining Bucky and Sam over by the gear.

When you finish reading, you snap the folder shut and stand, joining the rest of them. You hand it back to Bucky, who, in turn, hands you a pistol with a silencer affixed to the muzzle. You nod to him, grabbing a thigh holster from the mess of things on the table.

The boys are loud as they gear up for the mission, banter coming easily and non-stop between them. You stand to the side, fastening the pistol holster over your clothes and checking that your throwing knives are all present and accounted for. You observe them as you do this: the way Joaquín manages to pull a small smile out of Bucky, the casual, affectionate touches Bucky and Sam share. Sam ruffles Joaquín’s hair, and Joaquín elbows him toothlessly in the stomach in return. It all feels… well, kind of foreign to you. Maria was the best mentor you could have asked for and you wouldn’t change a thing about your time with her, but, like her mentor before her, she was always rather distant. Eyes on the mission, always. It’s the reason she was so good at her job, but it didn’t make much room for bonding moments between the two of you. Not that you were ever trying to bridge that gap. The only social skills the Red Room ever taught you were the fraudulent kind, meant to snare marks and do little else. The trio seem to catch onto your uneasiness, because they don’t try to touch you or tease you or fold you into their easy rapport. Fastening the pistol into its holster, you steadfastly ignore the part of you that wishes they would.

—

The airstrip is small, just a hangar with a couple small planes parked on the tarmac and a singular runway. It’s nestled within a group of fields still halfway dry and winter-yellow. The city lights wink along the horizon, all the warmth Prague has to offer out of reach. The group of you had walked two miles in the dark from the safehouse to get here, a feat that was much easier for Bucky and yourself than it was for Sam and Joaquín, burdened by the Captain and Falcon suits as they are. Joaquín had spent the entire walk complaining about how heavy the wing pack got after five minutes of wearing it, and Sam had begun threatening to relieve him of his duties before the apartment building was even out of sight.

“Okay, you two need to shut up now,” you say, voice low as you turn to face them in the dark. “Sam, you’re hanging back in the treeline, ready to provide aerial support if we need it. Buck, you’re scouting ahead so we know what to expect. The buyer’s plane is the only black one on the tarmac, and lucky for us, it looks to be parked farther away from the mouth of the hangar. Joaquín and I should be able to get in with minimal fuss and get in and out with the intel. We clear?”

“Yes ma’am,” Joaquín says, and you roll your eyes.

“Don’t get yourselves killed,” Sam says, already walking backwards toward the seam where field meets forest.

“Bucky’ll make sure we don’t,” you assure Sam. “I intend to put that metal arm to good use.” Sam laughs, and turns his back on the three of you, moving to assume position. Bucky heads toward the hangar next, while you and Joaquín hang back, waiting to hear what to expect.

Next to you, Joaquín rocks steadily from heels to toes, orange visor alternating between catching his face in the moonlight and hiding it in the shadows. When he catches you staring he cocks his head to the side, observing you right back.

“Jus’ a little nervous. Aren’t you?” he asks.

“I am not,” you reply, sweeping your gaze back toward the airstrip.

“Come on, everyone gets nervous,” Joaquín insists.

“The last time I was nervous before a mission, Mother locked me in solitary confinement for three days as punishment for my hesitation. I don’t get nervous anymore,” you tell him. Before he can reply, Bucky’s voice crackles to life in your earpiece, alerting the two of you that there are two guards stationed within and directly outside of the buyer’s plane. You nod and immediately start heading for the airstrip, but you can feel Joaquín’s eyes on you all the while.

Only about half of the lights seem to be on in the hangar and on the tarmac, casting the whole business half in shadow. A smallish group of people cluster within the hanger– you assume it’s where the deal is going down. Large, imposing men with larger guns loosely clutched in their hands mill about between the planes. It is immediately clear to you that the present company does not expect any surprises, and the guns and guards are more about showing off might than anything else.

You move forward, quick and silent in the dark, trusting that Joaquín will be behind you. He makes more noise than you, what with the wing pack, but not enough to get you into trouble. You dodge through the shadows until you are within a few dozen feet of the black plane. At this point you stop and pull Joaquín down with you behind a stack of crates. You need to observe the buyer’s guards for a few moments, get your bearings with who they are and what to expect before you jump in.

Beside you, Joaquín is watching you again. You kind of respect that he doesn’t try to hide his curious observations, and strangely, having his eyes on you is already starting to feel run of the mill.

“You always look at people like you’re trying to decide whether to disappear or stick a knife in their ribs,” he voices, though the words are pitched low enough you know that nobody else will hear him.

Because I am. “Guess which one I’m thinking when I look at you,” you mutter, but the words lack any real bite.

He grins. “You’ll warm up to me.”

“Maybe if you don’t kill us first with the yapping on the job,” you respond, turning around to shoot a glare in his direction. Really, all the talking is bad form. You assume Joaquín is more used to being up in the air with Sam these days than pulling any kind of stealth on the ground.

The two men stationed at the bottom of the plane’s stairs are more fat than muscle– all you and Joaquín will need to do is come up behind them and administer a handy little nerve pinch. They’ll be down for the count long enough for you to get in and get out, and quietly, too. You hope. You can’t get a good look at the pair inside the plane, but you should be able to use surprise and the close quarters to your advantage. You share as much with Joaquín.

“Dibs on the baldy,” Joaquín says, and that’s that. You glance back at him once more to make sure he’s ready, before melting backwards into the shadows at the edges of the tarmac. You take the long way around the plane, ducking beneath the smooth cylinder of its body until you are directly behind the pair of guards. Quick as a cat, you reach around him and pinch his ulnar nerve, hard. As he goes down, you grab his gun before it can clatter to the asphalt. Joaquín’s bald man drops to the ground a moment later, Joaquín nearly tripping on the man’s legs as he struggles to yank up the gun before it can make any noise. When he catches your unimpressed face, he sends you a wordless thumbs-up.

You mount the short flight of stairs up into the private jet first, pausing a few steps up until Joaquín is right behind you. You can see a shadow moving in the light of the cabin, indicating a guard on your left hand side, but you can’t see where the other one is. You pause for a moment, waiting to see if the other guard telegraphs their location, but you’re not lucky enough for that.

“Go left. I got your six,”Joaquín says, voice a low murmur over your shoulder. You nod once and resume your ascent. It’s nice, you suppose– you might be going in half blind, but you’re not alone this time. Not like you usually are. And goofy as he is, your gut has been telling you that you can trust him basically since you met him. No better time than the present to test out if the feeling’s right or not.

You move quickly once you get to the doorway: the first guard is seemingly on his way to the seats further down the cabin when he comes face-to-face with you. Shock flits across his features, but before he can do anything more, you grab the long body of his gun and ram the butt into the underside of his jaw, hard. Stunned, he takes a faltering step back, and you take the opportunity of his janky equilibrium to grab the gun and use it to spin him around. Once he’s facing away from you, disoriented, it’s easy to pull the gun up against his throat with both hands and choke him out. He drops like a sack of potatoes.

You didn’t see the second guard standing at the bar behind him until he dropped, and by the time you have eyes on him, he has his gun trained on you. There’s no time to think, and muscle memory moves your dominant hand to your shoulder sheath. A second later, your throwing knife finds its mark in the hollow of the guy’s throat, and he goes down. You sigh and move further into the cabin, stepping over the incapacitated one to dislodge your knife from the dying man’s throat. You wipe his blood off the blade on the fabric of his pants and resheath it.

When you turn around, Joaquín is looking at you, mouth slightly agape behind that stupid orange visor. And there you go again, hackles back up like you have something to prove. When he trains his gaze on you like this, you find that it feels like he’s looking inside of you, at all the blood-soaked bits hidden away in the dark.

“He would have shot me,” you say sharply, feeling bizarrely desperate to explain and pissed that you’re explaining anything all at once.

Joaquín holds his hands up in a gesture of surrender. “That was so badass,” he says, and there’s something like awe in his voice.

“Can you go do what you need to do so we can get out of here before I have to kill anyone else?” you ask, gesturing behind him. There’s an expensive looking laptop on one of the plush seats that you’re sure must be the buyers.

“Oh! Right, yeah,” Joaquín nods. He turns from you and heads down the aisle, dropping into one of the seats and opening the laptop, before producing a small drive from somewhere in his suit and jabbing it into one of the laptop’s side ports. You glance out one of the small windows: from what you can see, things still seem business as usual over by the hangar. For the moment, at least. But you can feel the clock ticking.

“How long is this going to take?” you ask, turning back to the cabin’s interior and taking a couple steps toward Joaquín.

“Not too long, if– yes, there we go,” he mutters, more to himself than you as his fingers clatter across the keyboard. He pauses to turn his face up and shoot you a teasing smirk that is far too reminiscent of Sam’s. “Would go faster if you don’t ask questions, though.”

You roll your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest and turning away from him to keep an eye on the door.

Half a minute later, your comm unit crackles to life in your ear, and Sam’s voice comes ringing through. “Shit, guys, you got company. Coming in from the west.”

“I have eyes on ‘em– they’re comin’ in hot, we gotta get out of here now,” Bucky responds, voice grim and urgent. You turn around in time to see Joaquín pulling the usb from the laptop and secreting it back into his suit.

“I got what we came for,” he says into his comm. “Swallowtail and I are out. Heading for the rendezvous point.”

With confirmation that the job is done, you pick your way back to the door. Before you can even glance outside, you hear rapid gunfire far too close for comfort. You veer to the side of the door and opt for looking out windows on either side of the plane first, trying to get your bearings.

“I see at least ten or twelve of them moving toward the hangar. Machine guns, all of ‘em,” you report to Joaquín.

His face is grimmer than you’ve ever seen it. “We’re gonna have to make a run for it. Once we’re far enough, I can fly us out without getting us both shot down and killed.”

“Hang on–” you start, but Joaquín is already in the doorway and counting down from five. You get behind him, ready for the two of you to stay close and move fast.

Down on the tarmac, gunfire lights up the night. All of the guards who had previously been milling around the planes are gone, running to the chaos near the hangar. Good for the two of you– should make slipping away a little easier. You’re a little more reckless this time around, Joaquín foregoing the shadows you had traveled through previously for a more straightforward path. All you need to do is get to the treeline at the edge of the tarmac; the rendezvous point is a little further into the woods, but it will be a lot harder for any of these goons to follow you or shoot you through the darkness of the nighttime forest.

But to get there, you first have to pass by the heart of the fighting.

If you have any luck, everything going on will be too much for anyone to notice the two of you fleeing. But there’s a lot of guys on the field, and Joaquín isn’t exactly dressed in an incognito way.

You’re almost there when a man shouts something in Czech. You only half catch it through the other noise, but you’re sure he’s talking about the two of you, calling attention to your escape. You turn to look behind you even as you keep running: there’s a black-suited man with a machine gun bounding down the steps of a private jet far closer to the two of you than the rest of the fighting. Within shooting range.

Time slows as you watch the man turn the machine gun on the pair of you. You’ve done a lot of death-defying things in the past, a lot of turning up broken but breathing when you should be six feet under, but you’re out in the wide open with a machine gun pointed at you fifty feet away. In the stretched out fraction of a second, you think you should start trying to accept death before you meet it.

The machine gun starts shooting. You scrunch your eyes closed, not even able to find it within yourself to hate the cowardice of not meeting your death in the eye. But no bullets find your flesh. Dazed from the adrenaline and confused by the fact that you’re still alive, you crack your eyes open and are met with a slate of gray in front of you instead of the tarmac. It takes a second for you to realize that it’s one of Joaquín’s wings, slammed down and embedded in the asphalt, the only thing standing between yourself and gruesome death.

Joaquín’s face is inches away from your own when you turn around, pale and drawn, his brown eyes wide. You’re both breathing heavily, and one of Joaquín’s arms is curled protectively around you, making sure to keep you behind the shield of his wing.

“Hold onto me and do not let go,” he instructs, his voice clearer and more commanding than it’s been all day. You comply wordlessly, locking your arms around his neck and ducking your head to his shoulder. You can feel the quick but steady thread of his pulse where your temple is pressed against the hot skin of his neck. As soon as both of his arms are fastened securely around your waist, he turns away from the gunfight and launches you into the air.

The feeling of sudden weightlessness sends your stomach into your throat and you cling tighter to Joaquín, eyes shut tightly against the frigid rush of the wind. Considering you haven’t been shot out of the air already, you have to assume Joaquín has taken you way high, way fast. You don’t actually want to know how true that is, so you opt to keep your eyes shut.

“We’re good, okay?” Joaquín’s voice comes in crisply through your earpiece despite the strength of the wind. “I got you.”

You nod against his neck, feeling a little frantic. The flying thing right after the almost being shot to death thing was doing a lot for your complete discombobulation.

“Sam, we’re coming into the rendezvous site aerially. Thirty seconds out,” Joaquín says into the comms. You hear Sam’s voice come through, but you don’t catch what he sees with how intensely you’re focusing on not throwing up on the Falcon suit. Despite all your training, sudden, violent movements have never exactly agreed with your composition.

As promised, roughly thirty seconds later you feel a dip that must indicate Joaquín is descending. The actual landing is much gentler than you expect; Joaquín takes the brunt of it before setting you on your own feet. You take a reflective step back from once your feet touch the ground, but being not entirely oriented, you stumble a half step. Joaquín’s hands tighten on your waist for a moment, making sure you can remain steady on your own before he withdraws.

“You good?” he asks.

“Yeah. Thank you for that,” you nod, finally starting to feel normal again now that you’re out of the air.

“You two alright?” Bucky asks, emerging through the trees to the right of you. You can see the brighter colors of Sam’s suit a few paces behind him.

You nod again. “Joaquín saved both our asses. We’re okay.”

“Attaboy,” Sam says, clearly trying to lighten the mood after such a near-miss, but the relief on his face is palpable.

“Just all in a day’s work for the Falcon, am I right?” he asks Sam, who rolls his eyes.

“Don’t push your luck, Torres.”

You’re all in for quite the walk back to the safehouse, the roundabout, forested route about twice as long as the one you took to get to the airstrip. It’s worth it to make sure none of the machine gun-toting goons are able to track you back, but the adrenaline crash after almost dying makes it tough. Sam leads the way and Bucky brings up the rear, with you and Joaquín trudging along in the middle of the formation. The silence between all of you is taut but not tense, as you listen for any signs of pursuit amidst the bucolic noises of the spring night. After a mile or so, you’re pretty sure the four of you are in the clear.

“So, the throwing knives,” Joaquín says, the first words spoken for over twenty minutes. “They’re your ‘thing’?”

“I’m trained expertly in over two dozen forms of weapons,” you inform him.

“Yeah, but you had the knives on you today before we even found you. They’re totally your favorite.”

You shrug. “They’re easy to conceal and cheap to replace.”

“Good reasons for favoritism,” Joaquín nods sagely. He has taken his helmet off, and the damp waves of his dark hair catch and reflect the bright moonlight. Surprisingly, Joaquín’s idle chatter seems to immediately work on subduing your post-near-death experience anxiety. Usually, you’d sooner knock someone out cold and drag them back to the safehouse than endure all this conversation. The response raises all kinds of red flags in your brain.

—

It’s well into the night by the time you finally reach the safehouse. Joaquín looks like he could drop where he stands, which doesn’t stop Sam from putting him to work straight away.

“Start running that information through our filters now. We need the device’s location,” Sam commands him. Joaquín lets out a tired sigh, but nods nonetheless. He frees himself from the wing pack, dropping it and his helmet on the table in the center of the room before settling down in front of his tech station. As he begins to work, Sam and Bucky start shedding gear on the table and methodically packing it into duffel bags. You opt to keep your throwing knives, of course– they essentially never leave your person– and the pistol Bucky had given you earlier in the day.

“Got it!” Joaquín says, then cows himself as if shocked by his own volume. “Vienna. The device and its schematics were last tracked to Vienna, but it’s not there anymore. There’s details of a deal that went down less than forty-eight hours ago. A man by the name of Anton Babjak is identified as the buyer.”

“Babjak,” you mutter, gathering the name in your thoughts. “He’s known as the Bobcat in darker circles. He was an assassin back in the day, but he’s been operating solely as an arms dealer since I joined with SHIELD, as far as I know.”

“We need to figure out his next move,” Sam says, face serious as you’ve ever seen it.

“I know someone who can help. We need to go to Madripoor,” you announce.

#joaquin torres x reader #joaquin torres #marvel #marvel x reader #the falcon x reader #sam wilson #captain america #bucky barnes #the winter soldier #TFATWS

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idrellegames · 11 days ago

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Since I've been getting a few more asks about Episode 3—no I'm not hiding it from anyone, no it's not going to be released for the public any time soon, and yes, it is being worked on, and yes it is getting closer to being finished!

The majority of it is available to play as an alpha demo on my Patreon, although what currently playable is locked to specific Episode 2 endings.

My quarterly roadmaps are posted both here and on itch.io, and have all the updates about what's going on with Episode 3 and where I am currently am in development (Q1 report is here, Q2 report here!).

Episode 3 is the finale of Act 1. There are a lot of choices, a lot of decisions that will impact the future of your playthrough and your Wayfarer's journey. Many of your decisions from Episode 2 will come back to haunt you (in a good way or a bad way) in Episode 3. This episode is going to change everything, and the game and your Wayfarer will not be the same afterwards.

Finally, Episode 3 is the length of a full IF game due to its complexity. There is a reason why it is taking so long to develop. I know folks are impatient for more, but Wayfarer's episode structure is more like installments in a long-running series than chapters of a book. It takes time to pull off something like this, and I promise it will be worth the wait!

Green parts are playable and in the alpha build; blue is completed but not coded (and therefore are not in the alpha); yellow is in the drafting process; red is not started. word count is cumulative for all variations/routes/paths; single playthroughs will vary greatly in length depending on choices made.

I am very close to the end now, but it is very difficult to accurately estimate how long it will take me to finish. I know some people are angry about this, I know some people are disappointed and frustrated because the game is in-development and not a finished product. I know some people think I died and fell off the map or abandoned the project because it hasn't had a public update in a very long time (I didn't, I've always been here, working away).

I don't like releasing content before it's ready. I also don't like releasing episodes in bite-sized pieces even if it means more regular updates. I don't think that would make the game very enjoyable, and it also would make it buggier, with more time spent fixing stuff that I would have normally caught in the editing phase if I finished more things before coding.

I am well aware that Wayfarer is extremely ambitious in its scale, and I am going to live up to how ambitious it is. Ambition takes time, and also sometimes life hits hard. When you're a solo developer, no one else can pick up the slack if you get sick or have a family crisis or need to take time off, so you are going to perpetually be behind schedule.

(And no, other episodes are not going to be as long or as complicated as Episode 3!)

So, at this point I can't say when Episode 3 is being released. Only that it will be!

#wayfarer #wayfarer if #dev log

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sunflowerwinds · 11 months ago

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stick ‘n poke | e.w

summary: it’s the first day of the campers arriving and you have a discussion with ellie about tattoos. during the supervised session of the campers doing arts & crafts, she mentions that she knows how to stick ‘n poke and you take her up on the offer. late night tattooing and exposing questions ensue.

pairing: ellie williams x fem!reader

contains: even more flirty!ellie, oblivious!reader, needles and slight bleeding so tw for that, steve being a himbo ally.

word count: 3.6K

a/n: maybe i love this series. comments & reblogs are much much appreciated lovelies <33

under the summer stars masterlist

The first day of the children arriving was more than hectic. More of the staff came the day after everyone else had arrived like the chefs and security for the grounds. Now, the seven camp counselors, including you, stood in a row outside of the main office on the opposite side waiting for the children to come out one by one to sign in with their parents. You recognized a few familiar parents and children but there were always new faces which you loved to see.

Ellie stood on your left while Steve was on your right. The group wore white baseball short-sleeve shirts in blue, green, and red blocking with block letters reading ‘STAFF’ on the back those coordinating colors. You thought they were insanely cute compared to the years before; it was strictly neon but Dina and you begged for something less bright and more flattering.

Thankfully, Tommy, Joel’s brother, and owner of the campgrounds, heard the complaints and had the dress code changed. You forgot every year how exhausting it was trying to reassure sketchy or overprotective parents that their children are safe and are never going to be alone. Etc. You could never blame them considering what people hear a lot about summer camps: specifically slasher-type movies based around the isolation of camps.

There were a lot of kids you recognized from the summers prior, making sure to let them know it, especially the ones that recognized you first.

Once the early crowd came by and huddled into your cafeteria for a complimentary lunch before the parents headed off home, you finally were able to take a breath, turning to the auburn-haired girl with a smile.

“Jesus, I always forget how overstimulating that is. How many parents asked if I was thoroughly CPR trained?” You exasperated to which Ellie threw her arm over your clothed shoulders, tugging you in for a moment.

“Trust me, I get it. Almost every parent asks if I’m even allowed to work here because of my tattoos.” Ellie rolled her eyes and held her arm up to you, turning her wrist from side to side to show you the tattoo. “Like do they think I’m gonna just grab their kid and shove a needle into them?”

You simply chuckle, resting your head on hers. Her thumb rubbed at your shoulder through the fabric causing you to slowly close your eyes with a hum. Every touch from her felt like a stress relief.

“Definitely. They saw tattoos and thought ‘she can definitely do a stick and poke on my child.’” You hum.

“You don’t have any tattoos right?” Ellie questions as her hand moves from your shoulder to your upper back.

You shake your head with a disapproving sigh, trying not to think about how her thumb was now massaging into your tense upper muscles. What the hell was she doing? Trying to send you into a coma?

“I do want some though. They’re just expensive as hell,” you lowered your voice which Ellie hummed in agreement.

“Well, I’m sure when you do you’ll look even better than you already do,” Elise raised her eyebrows at you with a cheeky smirk.

You shrugged her arm off your shoulder and shook your head.

“Shut up,” was the only argument you could come up with as you felt flustered at her comment.

Ellie merely chuckled and held her hands out in defense. “What? You want me to lie and say you’ll look like shit?”

“I didn’t say that, Els,” you look around as she openly cusses without thinking, hoping none of the helicopter parents heard her.

Before Ellie could retort something back, the two of you heard Joel calling the whole group of counselors over. You give her a pointed look before she playfully pushes you along as you walk, making you giggle like an idiot. When you get to where Joel is standing, Ellie’s hand lingers on the middle of your back as he speaks to the entire group.

You couldn’t believe how touchy she was being. Not that you were complaining but you swore years prior she had never been as lingering with her touches with you.

“After everyone is done in the cafeteria, gather your groups so that y’all can go to the cabins and help them unpack. After that, take them to the arts cabin to make their name tags for their bunks and tie-dye their shirts for next Wednesday for the field trip to the Botanical Garden,” Joel reads off his see-through red clipboard.

The group nods as they agree to the set schedule for the day. Once every single parent had said tearful ‘goodbyes’ and ‘love you’s’, your friends began to round up their troopers for their cabin. This was arguably one of your favorite parts of camp; getting to know these adorable children.

One by one, each of the counselors called the names of all 12 of the campers for their assigned cabins. You introduced yourself to the children, smiling at them kindly in hopes they would become comfortable with you. Some of them were more shy than others but that’s usually the case.

“Okay guys, you’re just going to follow me to the cabin where everyone will put your bags down before we head on over to the art cabin. If you have any questions, any at all, do not be afraid to ask me, okay?” You look at the wide-eyed and curious faces before they all agree to your statement.

You reluctantly had to walk away from Ellie and made your way to the cabin, checking to make sure every child was accounted for once you arrived. After about half an hour passed where you explained the basic rules for camp to all the kids, you gathered them to make their way over to the art cabin.

You felt more at ease when you entered the much larger cabin to see the rest of your friend group already having the kids make the name tags. Your campers dispersed once you gave them the ‘okay’ to go and color.

Ellie gradually made her way over to where you were standing, watching over the kids to make sure they weren’t drawing anything inappropriate on their name tags. Her shoulder bumped your own, a brazen grin on her face. Your brows set in a furrow at her fidgety manner.

“What’s up, Els?” You question, turning to her.

“I may or may not have gotten stuff to do stick and pokes,” she lowered her voice, making eye contact with you.

Your eyes nearly bugged out of your head at her words. The children were thankfully distracted by the rest of your friends to even listen to what you two were talking about.

“Where the hell did you get the materials for a stick and poke?” You asked in disbelief.

“Gave Tommy 50 bucks to go and get everything from the grocery store down the street.” Ellie shrugged nonchalantly.

You couldn’t believe your ears.

“I could give you one, you know. Free of charge, of course, since it’s your first one.” Ellie added on which really spiked your attention.

The offer was tempting if you were being completely honest with yourself. It wasn’t as if Ellie was a terrible artist; she actually had a bit of talent in that department. She was pretty much the only person here you would trust to do such a thing. On the more selfish side, you could be alone with Ellie.

“Miss Ellie! I need help!” A young boy shouted from across the room.

“Alright, buddy. I’ll be right there,” she called back before turning to you to point a finger in your direction. “Think about it, okay?”

You nod slowly. “I will.”

Content with your response, Ellie jogged over to the boy who had gotten the glue on his face. You internally freak out as your eyes dart around the room. All of your campers were doodling away, chatting amongst each other while you were having a crisis.

You had zoned out so bad, that you didn’t even realize that Steve was now standing next to you.

“Oh, Steve, hi.” You greeted him with a small smile.

“Hey, um,” he cleared his throat, hands clasped behind his back, “I don’t want to seem nosy but is there something going on between you and Ellie?”

You snap your neck before shaking your head furiously, a weird chuckle leaving your lips.

“No! No, absolutely not.” You persisted.

“Okay,” Steve trailed off, “you… like her, though, right?”

You looked at Ellie who was leaning over all of the kids' drawings, commenting on how all of them were ‘sick’ or ‘cool’. It was undeniable.

“Yeah, why?” You raised your brows at him.

“Damn. I owe Robs 20 bucks.” He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. You mouth ‘what?’ to yourself before Steve continued with: “She thought you just liked her and hadn’t told her yet and I thought you two were screwing in secret.”

“And you placed a 20-dollar bet on that?” You narrowed your eyes.

“Yeah,” Steve said ashamedly. “Robin went on and on about how ‘not everyone is hooking up just because I do’ and how ‘it’s different because it’s two girls’. I understand that but it doesn't mean, you know, two consenting adult women can’t be hooking up too.”

You blink at the flawless-haired man, listening to him ramble. Robin and he had very valid points.

“Well, it doesn’t matter anyways because I’m never going to tell her,” you added, shrugging your shoulders as you scanned over the area to see if any of your campers needed help.

This time Steve whipped his head to stare at you.

“Why not?”

“Uh, because I could humiliate myself and lose her as a friend. I know our relationship wouldn’t be the same if I did,” you explained with a long sigh. “She’s not making it any easier either. She asked me if I wanted her to give me a stick and poke tonight.”

Steve whistled playfully before you bumped his shoulder. He scoffed at your annoyed expression before putting his hand up in defense.

“I’m just saying if I know flirting,” he leaned down to mutter to you, “and I think I do, she wants you just as badly as you want her. My personal opinion is to go for it.”

You shake your head at his words but don’t necessarily push the thought away. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Robin and Abby whispering amongst each other. Robin glanced over to where you and Steve were standing before nudging the taller woman.

“You know what’s going on over there?” You lean into Steve with furrowed brows.

“No clue but I think I gotta go. One of my kids just shoved a googly eye up his nose.” Steve patted a hand on your shoulder before speed-walking over to this table full of campers.

To your surprise, none of your children had spoken up once. You jinxed yourself almost immediately as a little girl with dark coily hair pulled into two ponytails raised her hand and waved it around to get your attention.

You make your way over to her, leaning over to lean over her small shoulder.

“Hi, Vanessa. What did you need help on, sweetheart?” You tilt your head and look at her name tag.

“Oh. No, I didn’t need any help. I have a question though,” Vanessa turned in her chair, looking up at you.

“What is it?”

“Are you and Mr. Steve boyfriend-girlfriend?” She pointed her little finger in the direction of Steve tilting the child’s head back to see if he could get the googly eye out.

You awkwardly laughed at her question, scratching underneath your jaw. Kids, from what you’ve learned working at this summer camp, are extremely nosy and have zero filter with their questions. You remember just last summer when a little boy asked you what were the dots on your face: you were breaking out the first week. He was talking about your acne.

“Uh, no. Mr.Steve and I are good friends.” You said slowly. “Boys and girls can be just friends, you know?”

“Oh, well, he’s super cute,” she giggled as she covered her mouth like it was a secret.

The girl had taste but you just didn’t swing that way. You didn’t know what else to say but thankfully, Abby shouted over the conversations to turn in your name tags to their designated counselors so that they could get started on the tie-dye shirts.

You retrieve the hard stock paper from all twelve of your campers before tucking them underneath your clipboard.

“When your group is called, carefully walk up to the front table to grab a white shirt. If you need help picking out a size, ask for help from any of the counselors.” Abby grinned before making her way over to you.

You turn to her with a small smile, nodding your head over to her group of children.

“You doing okay with your kids?” You question, tilting your head up at her.

“Yeah, they’re not too bad but I give it a few days before they start pulling pranks on us.” Abby sighs with a shrug.

You nod sadly, knowing how truly creative these children can get when it comes to pranking. You still can’t stand the smell of a bubble bath.

“Well, you promised to help me prank Ellie so you’re really one to talk,” you raised your brows at her with a soft chuckle.

Abby couldn’t even say anything to you as you were right.

“I meant that, too. I got a few ideas for her.”

A part of you tried to ignore the quite obvious disliking Abby held for Ellie. Her tone triggered you from the first day and their little tense bicker.

“I will, Abs.”

Abby simply smiled before patting your shoulder with her own clipboard. You rolled your eyes playfully as she walked away from you. You catch Robin’s eye and she avoids your gaze almost immediately.

Weird.

“You sure this is safe?” You question for probably the tenth time that night as Ellie dipped the needle into the little plastic cup of ink.

Ellie let out a soft chuckle at your antsiness, reaching over to place a hand on your fidgeting one. You, after a lot of second-guessing, made your way to the cabin next door, making sure to only knock on the counselors’ side to not wake up the children. Every single voice in your head was telling you that you were betraying your one goal you had for this summer but your heart was telling you to spend as much time alone with her as possible.

Your mental and emotional state often collided with one another.

Now here you were in your oversized gray tee and a pair of green pajama shorts that had white shamrocks on them, sitting on her springy mattress as she dipped the disinfected needle into the tattoo ink. Ellie had on her signature black wife pleaser and a pair of boxer-briefs, one singular black glove on her right hand. The dim yellow of the lamp on the small desk was the only source of light in the small room.

“It’ll be okay. Now, it will sting a little bit because, well, it’s ink going into your skin but let me know if you need a break.” Ellie gave you a heads up, scooting in closer to you on her swivel barstool. “You said you just wanted a sun with a swirl in the middle?”

You nod as you watch her place a hand on your knee to steady your shakiness. You were nervous but excited for doing something like this. Outside of the camp, you weren’t someone who left their house often unless it was to eat, for school or when one of your three friends invited you out which you declined most of the time.

“Can we talk about something so that I don’t move a lot and fuck it up?” You nervously chuckle.

Ellie sucked in a deep breath as she began to poke the needle into your skin, causing you to scrunch up your nose at the pain.

“How about you tell me about life back at home? Just tell me everything, you know.” Ellie looked up for a second to give you a reassuring smile.

You mutter a soft ‘okay’ as you close your eyes, gripping onto the thin sheets on the bed.

“I don’t really do much. It’s not that I don’t get opportunities to. I just never have the courage to do a lot in my life so that gives me a lot of free time to read romances even though they make me feel extremely lonely. It’s annoying but I guess I kind of did that to myself,” you sucked in a deep breath when the pressure grew stronger on your upper thigh.

“You’re doing good,” Ellie whispered as she dipped the needle back into the ink cup. Her thumb was gently rubbing underneath the skin where she was placing the tattoo.

Great. Now you’re getting aroused and you’re in pain. A dangerous combination.

“Um, oh, I tried dragon fruit and kiwi for the first time last week. It was in a really big fruit bowl with melon, strawberry, mango, green grapes and pineapple.” You blurt out as you remember how delicious the refreshing bowl was.

“Very summer-y,” Ellie hummed with a cheeky smile as she was finishing up the spiral in the middle.

“I thought so,” you hum, sucking in a deep breath as she wiped a disinfectant wipe over the finished swirl portion to clean up some of the dots of ink and blood resting on your skin.

Ellie sat upright to stretch out her hunched over position, looking at you with a gentle smile. You weakly smiled back as you looked at the swirl, tempted to ask her to just finish there but that would mean going back to your cabin which you really didn’t want to do.

“How’s it looking?” Ellie cleared her throat, twiddling the makeshift ink pen around her fingers.

“It’s so clean. How did you do that?” You ask in genuine shock.

Ellie sheepishly shrugged her shoulders as she scratched at the space behind her ear. You let yourself take a few breaths as you brace yourself for the last bit of the tattoo.

“Okay, I’m good now,” you grin as your hand finds itself gripping onto the sheets once again.

Ellie nodded at your ‘okay’ but her eyes locked on your tight-knuckled hand. She clears her throat before motioning to her knee that was pressing into the metal bed frame.

“You can… put your hand on my knee. Just so you don’t screw up my sheets,” she teases as her eyes flicker to her exposed knee.

You hesitantly release the nylon sheets before carefully placing your hand down on her protruding bone. You held back every urge to rub your thumb on her pale skin just as she had been doing to you this entire time. You did, however, feel the little pricks of hairs that Ellie missed on her knee. You weren’t going to judge her, of course. It was comforting knowing how human she was.

“Is there anyone special back home?” Ellie hummed as she dotted the sunbeams.

Your eyes bulged out of your head. How fucking ironic the girl you had been head over heels for is asking you this question.

“Uh, no, not back home,” you shake your head at her question.

You weren’t technically lying. There was nothing waiting for you at home other than your dads.

“So you don’t have feelings for… anyone at all?” Ellie sounded almost nervous asking you the question.

Suddenly your palm grew hot and sweaty at the on-the-nose question. You could lie and say ‘no’ but your lack of immediate response captured Ellie’s attention. Ellie’s eyes flickered up to you with a shit-eating grin on her pink lips.

“I-I don’t.” You accidentally stutter, making you want to wring your neck right then and there.

“You’re a shit liar,” Ellie scoffed as she wiped off the excess blood and ink. “Who is it?”

“No one. Seriously don’t start,” you let out a strained chuckle.

“Why did you get so tense all of a sudden then?” Ellie quipped.

Well part of it has to do with the fact that I would give anything to have your tongue down my throat, you thought to yourself.

“Nothing. It’s no one and nothing, Els.” You shake your head before motioning to your tattoo. “Aren’t you supposed to be tattooing not being nosy?”

Ellie shook her head with a raise of her eyebrows. “So it is someone?”

You mutter an ‘oh my god’ to yourself before she continues to speak. “If it was really no one, you wouldn’t have called me nosy. I’m just saying.”

God, her sarcastic tone both irritated and comforted you.

“I don’t know. Abby is pretty… cool and sweet.” You blubber out, your word vomit causing your head to ache.

Ellie’s features dropped for a moment at the name. You even felt a nerve in her knee twitch. Why did you say Abby of all people? She pursed her lips before going back to the task at hand.

“Abby?” Ellie hummed. “Really?”

No.

“Yeah. What’s wrong with Abby?” You question the freckled girl, eyes flickering to her furrowed brows.

Ellie sucked in a deep breath, shaking her head. You wanted to scoff at her reaction but you simply kept your hand on her knee, allowing her to finish what she started.

“What about…you?” You carefully ask.

“What about me?” Ellie raised her brows.

You sigh. “Do you have anyone special?”

Ellie’s soft green eyes followed up your body to your lips before shaking her head, dismissive of your question.

“No one you know of.”

This needle is digging into your skin and your blood is seeping to the surface but Ellie’s words hurt the most tonight.

tag-list: @abbyshands @ih8chickentenders @elliesprettygirl @justhereforinspopics @be3flow3r @hearts4joongie @plutolovesyou @bready101 @joanvisitsrome @elliewilliamssrealgf @hysteriawillnotsuccumb @shady-lemur @melanie-watermelon @elliescoolerwife @ucannotcompare @sakiigami @shalalala-sana @joordynn @ummlover @thisiscarlatrying

#cherry’s fics!#wlw #sapphic #ellie williams #ellie williams fanfic #ellie tlou2 #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams fanfiction #ellie williams x female reader

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stagefoureddiediaz · 8 months ago

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911 and the Wizard of Oz!

So I’ve written a couple of times about the wizard of Oz connections that 911 has had in the past. Well after 8x03 and the trailer for 8x04 - everything has become much clearer to me and boy oh boy is Tim pulling a blinder with this one!

I need to start by saying he is playing on lore from both the original books as well as the film, so much of this wouldn’t be evident if you had little to no knowledge of the book series. I however do - because I loved the books as a child and I have also long been interested in the link between the books, the original film and the queer narrative that runs through them. Especially because of my yellow and blue and then blue and green colour theory and its use in telling queer narratives in cinema and television in the aftermath of the 1939 film.

For those who don’t know the background of it, you can read my post here about the wizard of oz and its queer narrative and the yellow/blue colour theme, but for a brief run down the wizard of oz and its themes have been a key part of the queer narrative since they first appeared in print and then on film. Yellow blue colour theory stems from Dorothys dress and the yellow brick road and became a film short hand for queer narratives in film, during the hays code era (1934-1968), and has continued on to this day. the most recent and most obvious use of the blue/yellow blue/green coding has been in heartsotopper - where it is very heavily and very cleverly used to help tell the queer narrative, but it is its use in films during the hays code where it was doing a lot of work to ‘secretly’ provide queer narrative in film. (this is a specialist subject of mine and I could write about it all day - I really would love to do a phd in it, but I do not have the money or time to do that so I write about it at any opportunity on tumblr!)

Many of the nods to the story are subtle, but they are there and I am going to go through a good number of them with you - especially the ones we’ve had in season 8 so far, the main thing to note right off the bat though is that they all connect in to Eddie and that is very telling to me - especially when we take 5x01 - 5x04 into account. the rest is below the cut becasue it's long!

The very first reference to the Wizard of Oz we get is in 202 - 7.1. We have the entitled woman (that is the name they gave the character in the credits!) with her dog - Paisley.The entitled woman is wearing red shoes and we get shown her with just her feet sticking out from under the rubble in a clear nod to the wicked witch of the east being buried under Dorothys house in Oz.

Kat the little girl who gets separated from her family and ultimately reunited with them is a nod to the overall story of Dorothy in the wizard of Oz - and Paisley is a nod to Toto - Dorothy’s dog. I will also mention the fact that we get a heart metaphor during this disaster - Jeff - the heart of a champion.

We get a further nod in season 2 in 207 - Haunted - where we have the girl at the halloween parade dressed as the film version of Dorothy. I don’t think there is a huge amount to read into from a Wizard of Oz perspective, beyond the fact that it is referenced - we don’t actually need to see anything further in regards to the Wizard of Oz - its all about making the connection.

This episode is a big episode of Eddie and his storyline and this is a way for 911 to link Eddie into the Wizard of Oz theme without being massively obvious about it and his absence from this scene is a key part of that.

There are other key elements in this scene that we’ve been seeing come into play over the seasons for Eddie and that is what makes the wizard of Oz reference especially interesting. First up it's important to note that this is the episode we see the return of Shannon in. We have the horse and his rider - being separated by the death of the horse and the officer describing the horse as his friend. There are two things this is playing on here - the first is the foreshadowing of Shannons death, the second is that the show has then reused this metaphor of partners being separated by death, this time making use of the police aspect as a part of Eddies breakdown in season 5 - Mills’s - Eddies partner while he was in the army and her death. These two elements are why Eddie absence is key - Eddie becomes the officer and Shannon or Mills becomes the Horse and having Eddie present in the scene waters down the metaphor.

The fact we get a lot of wizard of Oz references in season 5, makes this a really interesting and clever connection to draw. The other aspects of this scene in 207 is the pretty important reference about the horse needing a sedative to stop him thrashing around until his heart gave out. Bearing in mind this is the first really intentional heart metaphor we see on the show and it’s a pretty key episode for Eddie in relation to his heart, his absence from this scene becomes louder, especially as he is off with his heart (Christopher) enjoying halloween. It makes it clear that the Eddie and hearts metaphor has been there since very early on - and has been (at least loosely)connected to The Wizard of Oz.

Remembering what I said above and in my other post about the wizard of Oz being very heavily connected to queer theming and storytelling in media it makes it likely that this is the show putting in early building blocks for a queer Eddie arc gif they wanted to then go down that route later on. (this makes the season 5 theming I’ll talk about shortly even more interesting to me!)

The last thing to mention is the is the emphasis on the devil, a priest and a drag queen at the parade- all things we see appearing in Eddies arc through season n7 and into 8. The drag queens from the bachelor party - in which we really see Eddie letting go and have fun for the first time. The priest and the devil are a metaphor for Eddies struggles with his faith - the idea of temptation (in the catholic church - especially the devout catholic church, being queer in any way is seen as being tempted by the devil), and with us having knowledge of Eddie going to church and likely talking to a priest in some capacity in the next few episodes, we have yet another tie back to this storyline from 207.

Now I obviously have no proof with what the intentions were for ~Eddie in season 5, but I’ve long had my theories and now, knowing that they had originally intended to have Bucks bisexual arc take place in s5 but it got shut down by the higher ups, I can make some pretty educated guesses based off what we did get early on in the season.

Season 5 opened with the blackout and then we led straight in to 5x04 ‘Home and Away’ with all its yellow and blue colour theming. Can you see where I’m going with this? How does the opening of the film version of the Wizard of Oz start? Yup that’s right - in black and white and then when Dorothy finds herself over the rainbow everything is in colour and the use of yellow and blue is very strong with Dorothy’s blue gingham dress and the yellow brick road with the green colouring coming later on when they reach the emerald city.

So I think 911 was intending to play on that concept in season 5 - the idea that the black out is a nod to Kansas being in black and white (not to mention the use of green for the hackers!) and then 5x04 is a play on Dorothy following the yellow brick road - hence the heavy use of yellow and blue and the way it winds through the narrative of the episode (along with the use of the bluejay as the schools animal emblem - which is a symbol of communication, curiosity and confidence - seeing a bluejay is telling you to be bold and chase your goals!). What is the other thing we get a huge number of references to in season 5 - especially connected to Eddie - hearts and heart metaphors.

We do also get a nod to the wizard of Oz in season 6 and the zeppelin disaster - which is a nod to the hot air balloon the wizard crashed into Oz in. The zeppelin is yellow and blue and the conversation on board refers to one of the pilots mother in law - whilst she isn’t stated to be a witch, the implication is there. the 110 is also closed in roughly the same place as we get it closed in 8x03. along with the fact that Eddie is the one to go into the zeppelin - Chim and Buck only partially go in - and the parallel storyline in the episode is about a heart issue, we once again have The Wizard of Oz being tied into heart metaphors.

Let’s move on to season 8 now and look at the vast number of Wizard of Oz references we have seen so far and appear to have coming up in 8x04. I will say the sheer number of references in season 8 compared with the more subtle ones from seasons 5 and 6 is one of the reasons I’m so very sure we have a queer Eddie arc going on - that they’ve finally been able to pull that trigger and move things forward for him.

Just remember that things don’t have to exactly follow the story of the wizard of Oz to be relevant - its not about the narrative following the same path, but more about the use of recognised aspects and tropes from the book and film to convey information and aid the storytelling. It is often more about the concept and meaning behind something and a 911 character may share the traits of more than one wizard of oz character because it is their traits that are relevant not necessarily TWoO characters full journey through the book or film.

The bee-nado is a literal reference to the tornado that sent Dorothy to oz - its one of the reasons we don’t see more of the bees - they serve their purpose in the same way the tornado does so we don’t need to see them again.

Gerrard building ‘his 118’ with a security fence around the firehouse and cast iron plumbing is a reference to the wizard building the Emerald city - which has a wall around it for security. In Oz it is the place full o the most up to date technology etc. So Gerrard is building his Emerald City.

The mother in the car falling asleep due to anaphylaxis is likely a reference to the poppy field in the film version of TWoO, along with the flowers at the perfume launch and Bucks statement that ‘smoke worked last time’ - because the smoke did make the bees sleepy like the poppies made Dorothy and her friends sleepy.

Bucks plan to have Eddie run and attract the the swarm of bees is a reference to an event that happens in the book. The wicked witch sends a swarm of bees to sting them to death. The tin man and scarecrow had seen them coming and scarecrow comes up with a plan - he has Dorothy, toto and the lion covered in his straw to hide them from the bees who only find the tin man - they try to sting him but it breaks their stings and kills them instead without hurting the tin man as he is impervious to bees by nature of being made of tin. What we see happen in 801 is very clearly placing Buck into the role of Scarecrow and Eddie into the role of tin man - Buck comes up with the plan and Eddie undertakes it successfully - his turnouts protecting him from the bees just like the tin man being made of tin protected him.

Gerrard hitting his head is a reference to Dorothy hitting her head in the tornado and waking up in Oz - its a reference to Dororthy’s line ‘Toto, I have a feeling we’re not in Kansas anymore’ - its a play on the fact that the 118 is a very different place to when Gerrard was removed first time. Gerrard represents the black and white world - outdated and not up with the times (which he wasn’t back in the day either but that’s kind of the point), the world (the 118) is now in glorious technicolour since his departure and Gerrard will end up back in a black and white world in the end while the rest of the 118 will remain in colour and move forward. This places Gerrard in the role of the Wizard, but it is more akin to the book wizard than the film wizard - originally in the books (it was later glossed over as it didn’t go down well with readers) the Wizard arrives in a hot air balloon and becomes ruler of Oz by usurping he King and handing over the princess to a witch (more on this later!). As is shown in the film, he leaves Oz to return home in a hot air balloon. If Gerrard is the wizard, this makes Bobby the king (usurped from his throne at the 118) and Hen becomes Ozma (this is something I will talk about a bit later as it deserves its own section!) which fits with how we are being shown Hen being given the 118 captains role on a more frequent basis - suggesting the show is transitioning her into becoming the captain down the line.

Tia, her dog and Jordan are an interesting trio - they are a very clear parallel serve as a multi layered allegory as they play on several aspects of the film and books, as well as linking to aspects of 911 and especially on Buck and Eddies storyline.

Firstly we have the dog - who is the same type of dog as Paisley from season 2 - right down to the red bow in the hair (which is encouraging us to draw parallels with the earthquake disaster). Both dogs are a nod to Toto - Dorothy’s dog in the Wizard of Oz. The dog is also a representation of Buck, but I’ll go into that when I talk about Buck below!

Tia represents both Dorothy and the tin man, we see her initially as, not heartless, but guarded, but she softens especially when we see her following the instructions Hen gives, and bonding with various people on the plane including Jordan, in much the same way we see the tin man do for Dorothy and scarecrow. She is also a representation of Eddie (again I’ll go into this more later on)

Jordan is a reference to both the flying monkeys (through his telephone conversation he is implied to be a business monkey which is in turn a play on monkey business - behaviour that causes discomfort our annoyance) and the cowardly lion. He is also a reference to Chopfyt who only appears in the books and is a man made from the parts of others and is a reference to Tommy, which I will explain later as well!

its worth pointing out that Jordans viagra fuelled boner is hidden under a rainbow towel and when they get off the plane Tia, Jordan and the dog are sat on a yellow tarpaulin - the implication being that they are still in Oz and over the rainbow, but that isn't real life - its fake - a dream - and reaity will set back in once they are able to go home.

Buck has 2 red flares to bring the plane home - symbolic of the red slippers - click three times and say there’s no place like home.

There is a lot of yellow and blue lighting used in combination - especially around Buck and Eddie.

The green lighting on the plane after it has landed - a reference to leaving the Emerald city and Oz and going home.

Im sure there are others that I may have missed, but these are the key ones, and most of them will likely remain in play in some capacity in the upcoming episodes.

As for the potential upcoming oz references, we have the following

the tiger in 804 is likely a reference to lions and tigers and bears. Oh my! from the film, but may also be a reference to the hungry tiger from the books - who is a tiger who is never full and desires to eat a fat baby but never would as his conscience would never allow him to. He is described in the books as the largest and most powerful of his kind and is one of Ozmas chariot drivers and is friends with the cowardly lion. The Tiger reference coming in no place like home and the books connection of the tiger with Princess Ozma and the cowardly lion makes me feel like Karen may be represented by and paralleled with the tiger, and the idea that Karens conscience won’t allow her to metaphorically eat Ortiz (the fat baby) but that is purely speculation on my part!

the pumpkin stuck on a head storyline that’s been hinted at coming up in 805 - in the books there is a character called Jack pumpkin head who is made by the Princess Ozma when she is Tip and then brought to life by magic (Ozma is the rightful ruler of Oz and was given to the Witch Mombi of the North by the wizard in order to prevent he rightful ruler of Oz ascending the throne. Ozma is transformed into a boy called Tip by Mombi, but is later turned back when Glinda discovers what has happened). Im expecting this arc on the show to play into Jack’s storyline in the books. Jack refers to having lost a father when Tip is returned to being Ozma. I think we’ll see it played as a reference to Mara, Chim and Hen, because Hen is Very Ozma coded which I’ll explain a bit more later on!

Masks. with 805 being titled masks it feels very loaded towards the Wizard of oz and the fact he wears different masks (in the book) depending on who he is meeting with. He appears to Dorothy as a giant head (as we see used in the film), to the Scarecrow as a lovely lady, to the Tin Woodman as a terrible beast, and to the cowardly Lion as a ball of fire. He does this with the intention of scaring them all, but in all cases has chosen the wrong image to make the desired impression. there is of course the fact that the mask slips (the curtain gets pulled away by Toto) and the truth of the Wizard is revealed - that he is a fraud - merely a man who has been using magic tricks to make himself seem great and powerful.

these are just the ones we know about, there may very likely be more revered once we’ve seen the episodes, for example we might get a play on Eddie in church and going to confession - the idea of hiding ones identity behind a screen.

I want to talk a bit about the specifics of the firefam, and how they fit into the concept in a more detailed way. Obviously all members of the firefam fit into multiple aspects of each of the 4 main characters in Oz, but they each have one that has a stronger pull than the others. Each one of the characters in the books and film have specific traits that form their personality and a key part of their narrative - Dorothy wants to get home, The lion wants courage, the scarecrow a brain and the tin man a heart. These are all allegories for the bigger picture.

Dorothy wants to go home, yes, but that is part of her bigger desire to belong - the books reveal much more about her past and upbringing in Kansas. She is also the first person in the wider story - it is her journey that sets in motion all of the other ones.

The cowardly lion is in fact not cowardly, but incredibly brave, and a loyal friend, he is just full of self doubt because he believes his fear makes him inadequate as lions are supposed to be the king of beasts. we see him overcome that self doubt and go onto succeed - becoming a well respected and important member of Ozma'z court.

The scarecrow wants a brain but is in fact shown to be the smartest of the group - coming up with clever plans and sharing a great depth of knowledge the also becomes the ruler of the Emerald city - appointed by the wizard when he leaves, and it is stated by the tin man in one of the later books the he is ‘probably the wisest man in all Oz’

The Tin man wants a heart, but in fact is one of the most tender, emotional, considerate and caring people in Oz as well as being extremely competent and practical. He is also shown to seize up and rust due to either the rain or his tears. In the books he is given more backstory - his axe was enchanted by the wicked witch of the east and it causes him to chop off his body parts limb by limb. The witch does this because he is win love with her ward Nimmie Amee. when he chops out his heart he feels his could no longer love her and so left. he does later try to find his long lost love but is left disappointed when he finds her married to a man made up of his body parts and those of another tin man called Captain Fyter who had also been enchanted by the witch for the same reason. she refuses to leave her man of parts and tin man and scarecrow return to the emerald city together.

The Tin man and the scarecrow sit very much in parallel with one another in both the books and the 1939 film, they are very much a pair and shown to be each others foil and in the books especially spend a long time debating with one another about the relative importance of the brain and heart, but in combination with one another form a perfect whole.

With the main characters of Oz covered we can explore the way 911 is using their traits to tell the stories of our firefam, but before we do that I want to look at a few other key 911 characters and how they relate to the wizard of oz!

Bobby in my opinion is Glinda the good witch - he shares a lot of traits with her. It is Ginda who helps restore Oz (the 118) to its fully unified state - something that had ceased to be under the Wizard and the wicked witches rule in separate counties. She also tends not to meddle or interfere in Ozian matters unless requested to do so. This fits with bobby’s traits very well - he doesn’t tend to get involved in things unless pushed to do so or asked directly. Much earlier in Oz’s history Glinda also helps redeem the tyrannical king of Oz through the creation of the forbidden fountain and the waters of oblivion - the king drank the water and then forgets his cruel and nefarious intentions. bobby replacing Gerrard at the 118 fits fairly well into this theme.

Ortiz is an interesting one - she fits into bot the role of The wizard, as well as the wicked witch of the west. I think that Ortiz is the wizard in part because the name Ortiz can loosely be read a s a play on ‘wiz’ as in wizard, but also because she is the most powerful person in the show right now - and it is all built on lies and corruption - much like the wizard is in Oz! However as the film unfolds we are shown that the witch is in fact more powerful than the wizard, but is also eventually easily brought down. This is why I think she is also a reference to the wicked witch, but also because the witch controls the flying Monkeys - who serve as her lackeys and undertake her bidding.

Gerrard is both the Wizard of Oz and a flying monkey. I wrote above about the wizard hiding behind screens and masks and and Gerrard and I wrote about Gerrard building fences around the 118 being reference to the wizard building the emerald city. The flying monkey connection is obvious - he is working under Ortiz.

Tommy fits into a couple of different characters. He is in my opinion most closely connected to Chopfyt and Nimmie Amee, but he also fits into the meaning of the flying monkeys. Chopfyt is made up of the parts of the Tin woodman and Captain Fyter (the tin soldier) who are rivals for the attention of Nimmie Amee who is married to Chopfyt but was at one time courted by the tin man and the tin soldier. Captain Fyter and the Tin Woodman become friends during their journey to find Nimmie Amee. The flying monkey connection is perhaps a more obvious of the three, the monkeys are subservient to the wicked witch of the west and in the begins episodes we are shown Tommy being very much under Gerrard wing through his behaviour. It is also worth nothing that the flying Monkeys in the book drop the tin man over shape rocks leaving him so dented he could not move and they pull the scarecrow apart, scattering his straw and throwing his clothes up a tree - Dorothy is able to repair them both with the aid of the Winkies (the people under the control of the wicked witch of the west) and Dorothy then commands the flying monkeys to take them to the Emerald city.

The meaning of these character connections is clear to me - Tommy as Nimmie Amee courts first the tin man (Eddie) and then the Tin Soldier (Buck) but chooses Chopfyt in the long run. Tommy is made up of parts of both Buck and Eddie in the same way that Chopfyt is made up of parts of Tin man and Captain Fyter. The fact neither Tin man or the Tin soldier succeed with Nimmie Amee and that she choses Chopfyt is telling and possibly gives us clues about the eventual demise of Buck and Tommys relationship and suggests that as tommy fits both characters parts (both characters who are fairly small roles in the books and are plot devices - much in the same way as Tommy is in 911), he will ultimately choose himself (as we’ve already seen him do in 705).

Onto the 4 remaining members of the firefam, and I believe Chimney is for the moist part, meant to be Dorothy - he is the first member of the firefam in the same way Dorothy is, he fits a lot more of the Dorothy tropes from the book than the film shows, he is described as the heart of the 118 - which is basically what Dorothy represents in the books and film - she is the one who keeps everyone together, or brings them back together when they have been separated. And if we follow the theming of Gerrard being the wicked witch of the west, it becomes more apparent - in the books Dorothy is enslaved by the wicked witch and forced to carry out menial cleaning tasks - in much the same way we see Chim being treated by Gerrard in Chim begins. It is Chim who we are shown supporting Hen, Buck, and Eddie as they begin their careers at the 118.

The other thing of note - which currently doesn’t fully work, but will if, as I suspect, the wizard of oz references around Eddie are a part of his Queer journey - is that Chimney is the only one of the four members of the team (we are not including Bobby as he is the captain) who has no queer coding in any way and is in a heterosexual marriage. The reason this is important and plays into the idea of Chim being Dorothy is that the term ‘Friend of Dorothy’ is coded speak for being queer - I explain it further in my meta which I linked at the top of this post - the play is that Dorothy herself is not queer, but that her companions on her journey down the yellow brick road are. Which fits Chimney perfectly - with Hen and Buck being Lesbian and bi respectively and with the Wizard of Oz connections to Eddies storylines across the previous seasons and again in the current season being very loud, it feels fair to assume that Eddie will also sit somewhere on the queer spectrum before too long (and really is the reason behind me writing this insanely long post!)

Hen is the cowardly lion. We are shown Hen doubting her abilities at several points throughout the show, but she is arguably the bravest of the 118. The cowardly lion’s favoured companion is the hungry tiger (as I wrote about above - we may well see Karen paralleled with the tiger in 804)

But Hen is also Princess Ozma and this is a far more powerful connection. Ozma is the rightful heir to the throne of Oz and spent much of her childhood in the form of a boy called Tip as she had been enchanted by the witch Mombi until Glinda the good witch discovers the enchantment and forces Mombi to return her to her true form and take her rightful place as ruler of Oz. With Bobby filling the role of Glinda, helping Hen achieve her full potential and the allegory of Hen having to hide herself for much of her life until she becomes a firefighter - the wig we see Hen wearing in Hen begins plays into this idea perfectly - that Hen was disguised but has been freed from that disguise and become her true self.

Buck is the scarecrow. But he is also Toto and Captain Fyter. I explained the Captain Fyter connection above in the section on Tommy so I won’t repeat myself here. Buck is toto for a couple of reasons. Firstly we have the connection to the dog in the plane in season 8 who growls at Jordan and Tia tells him that the dog doesn’t like men, he then becomes friendly when Jordan is ill, but we see him returned to Tia when they leave the plane. this is all a allegory for Buck’s bi arc. Tia is Eddie in the scenario and Tommy is Jordan . The dog growling and being protective is akin to Buck growling and becoming jealous over Eddie and Tommys friendship, trying to keep Tommy away from Eddie, but then becoming friendly with Tommy in the same way the dog becomes friendly with Jordan in a therapy dog kind of way before returning to Tia at the end, implying that Buck will always go back to Eddie when it comes down to it. the therapy dog aspect is also interesting as it implies BUck is providing some kind of therapy for Tommy - this could be read as Buck helping Tommy learn and grown (likely in connection with his still undressed past behaviour) - makes him a better person, before they part ways and Buck ‘returns’ to Eddie.

Then there is the wizard of oz references - it is Toto who sets much of the plot of the wizard of Oz in motion - by biting Almira Gulch in Kansas in the film version and by hiding under the bed in fright in the book version. It is Toto who reveals the truth of the Wizard of Oz being just a man, and it is Toto who leads The lion, scarecrow, and tin man to where Dorothy is after she has been captured by the wicked witch (in the film - he is less involved in the book!) and it is toto who stops Dorothy from leaving with the Wizard and ultimately leads to Dorothy learning the slippers she wears can carry her home if she clicks her heels together 3 times and wishes to go home. All of these events either play into Bucks arcs in 911 or will potentially going forward. Bucks impulsive ways could be said to mirror Toto’s impulsive actions in TWoO and it will be interesting to see if being taken under Gerrard wing leads to him gaining information that helps Hen take down Ortiz!

The biggest connection though is with the scarecrow. The scarecrow has long been associated with bisexuality - due to his line in the film ‘of course some people go both ways’. in the book the scarecrow also reveals that he lacks a brain but greatly desires one - he is in fact only 2 days old when Dorothy meets him so he is essentially just naive because as the book progresses it becomes increasingly clear he actually is very intelligent and knows many things. One of the other aspects of the scarecrow is his ability to know his own limitations and in the books he becomes ruler of Emerald city, but hands the crown over to Princess Ozma enabling her to take up her rightful position as ruler of all Oz, becoming one of her most trusted advisors. Most of these are traits that Buck shares with the scarecrow - we see season 1 buck reflected in the naijvtie of a 2 day old scarecrow, but once he hits his stride, we see that Buck is actually very intelligent, full of knowledge (random facts wiki Buck!) and comes up with great ideas - things that are being very clearly demonstrated in season 8 so far. He is also becoming much much better at knowing his limitations and that is something I think we will continue to see develop in the way it does in the scarecrow across the books.

And finally we have Eddie. Eddie is the Tin man through and through. The heart metaphors that surround Eddie - especially in season 5 are a very obvious and direct link to the tin man. and Like I said above the Tin man is the most compassionate, sensitive and tender and caring people in Oz. He is incredibly practical and competent as well and undertakes the scarecrows plans readily. He and the scarecrow pair up a lot across the book series and go on adventures together, their heart and brains combining to lead them to success in nearly all cases. The tin man also becomes a trusted advisor to Ozma and is considered to be a fair and wise person in Oz. These are all things we see portrayed in Eddie. He has this tough exterior, but inside he is very soft and tender and he only reveals that side of himself to those he can trust. Eddies heart is a key part of Buck and Eddies dynamic especially in combination with Bucks brains - we are so often shown Buck having an idea and Eddie carrying it out because he trusts Buck - the perfume bee run is just the latest in a long line of them and it is a key aspect of the Tin man and Scarecrow in the Oz books. I’ve spoken above about the other aspects of the tin man and his connection with various characters, but it really is the tin man and scarecrow dynamic that is at the heart of things in the wonderful wizard of Oz book especially (pun intended!!).

All of it plays into the Oz theming we’re being shown in 911 having an important meaning and it is very much connected to Eddie far more than any other character. One can argue that the books - at their core - are about following your heart and letting it lead you to your truth and to home and that is the very heart of Eddies story. Carla’s line about making sure he’s following his heart and not Christophers rings very true, and we’ve reached a point now where Eddie has to follow his own heart, because Christopher is not in the picture and they’ve chosen to go very very hard with the wizard of Oz metaphors - building on the foundations they already created in previous seasons and now being able to bring them to fruition.

I could literally write about this all day, but this is already ridiculously long and I'm not sure it even makes sense at this point! It was only supposed to be a short post! So I’m stopping here and letting you all go back to your lives - thank you for reading especially if you've made it this far! and let me know your thoughts!💜💜💜🐝🌪🌈

Tagging a few random people just in case they're interested! @buddiediaz118 @buddie911abc @fruityfirehose @sunflowerdigs

@spotsandsocks @livingwherethesidewalkends @satvojihusana @inell @eddiedisasterdiaz @lemotmo @courtjestermerlin @lover-of-mine @lovecolibri

#kym writes very long meta!#long meta #sorry this wasn't meant to be this many words!#911 does the wizard of oz #911 abc #911 meta #the wizard of oz #the wizard of oz and queer narrative #eddie diaz #evan buckley #buddie #anti bucktommy #anti tommy kinard #911 spoilers

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