#worst group ive ever had the displeasure of meeting

[vampyrluver]

Cried for the first time at work, mean customers

[theiloveyousong]

hi hi hi omg ok abt the chanukkah gift writing thing. how abt. barnroe going on a teeny tiny date in miss retro's diner after they've only been publicly dating for a little while. that would be super cool /nf

HI okay ive FINALLY finished this im so sorry i just had NO motivation :[[[ i think its decent though !

Linda slides into the booth of Miss Retro’s with a huff, smooths out her skirt, looks at Becky so crossly she can’t help but grin. “This place is an absolute dump, Barnes. What are we going to order, chlamydia and fries?” She wrinkles her nose. Becky pats her on the hand gently and slides into the other side of the booth. Linda’s picking at her cuticles, nervousness visible past the disaffected sneer. 

Becky flicks her palm gently, and Linda glances up with doe-wide eyes. “Hey, Lin. You don’t have to worry, kay? This is like Hatchetfield’s queer community center. We’re fine.” Linda’s face relaxes a bit, and she falls into the booth, sighing thinly. Becky pulls out a menu from the holder, spreads it across the table. “Now, they don’t offer any STDs, but I would like a milkshake.” Linda grins tentatively. 

The diner’s bustling, teenagers packed into booths too small for their group and old couples having lunch together for the thousandth time. Linda glances around a bit, spots a girl with wavy blond hair and a silvery dress, and her face immediately crumples into a glare. Becky looks at her looking at the girl, and smiles. “Family rivalry? You two look super similar.”

Linda huffs. “Yes, actually. She’s my niece and the absolute worst person I’ve ever had the displeasure of meeting.”

Becky pouts. “Aww, I thought I was the worst person you had ever met? You used to tell me that all the time, babe.”

Linda’s face flushes. “Yes- Well- Times have changed, and I have now deigned to grace you with my presence. You should be grateful, Becky!” She tucks a piece of hair behind her ear. “Anyway, Brooke is-”

Becky bursts out laughing. “Brooke? Really? Didn’t know the nautical theme ran that deep!” 

Linda frowns. “Yes. It’s the boats, we do a lot of boating. She’s the epitome of what’s wrong with teenagers today, always on her phone and no respect for her friends and-” Linda leans in dramatically. “I heard from Spankoffski’s kid that she set fire to the bathroom during homecoming this year.” 

Becky smiles. “So we’re gossiping now? Didn’t take you to become a yente at the ripe old age of thirty-seven.” 

Linda’s ears turn bright red. “Shut up! Shut up, shut up! I will not become an old lady who gossips at synagogue about people’s appearances. Whether someone has gotten another nose job or not is none of their business!”

Becky places her hands over Linda’s. “And this is definitely not from experience, right, Lin?” 

Linda crosses her arms and harrumphs. “You know I’ll say anything you want me to, Barnes.” She sighs, looks at the menu. “Oh, greasy bad food, how I did not miss you. Oh, inevitable breakout, how I do not want you.”

Becky plucks it from her hands. “Nuh-uh! I’m picking for you. Consider it a gift!” Linda scrunches up her face. The teenage waitress saunters over to the table, tugging at her choppy hair and looking extremely bored. Becky frowns. “Where’s Miss Holloway? She’s normally working here on Saturdays…”

The waitress grimaces. “Yeah, well, Holloway’s not here, so you’re gonna hafta take it or leave it, hon. I dunno why either, just got a call to come into work, so. Yeah. Whaddaya want?” Becky pulls out a tiny notebook, scribbles something in it, and shows it to the waitress, who hides her smile with the order pad. 

Linda narrows her eyes. “What is it. What is it? Becky, are you not going to tell me?” Becky smiles, but says nothing. Linda slams her head down on the table.

“Comin’ right up, miss! We’ll get that right quick,” says the waitress, scurrying over to a table with ten teenagers crammed in. She shows them the order and one of them shrieks. Linda sighs.

[norabrice1701]

An Offer Received - Part V

A Jaguar Villain Tom Hiddleston Character (Thomas Conrad) fanfic 

Pairing: Thomas Conrad x Fem!Reader 

Summary: In which Mr. Conrad makes his move and you have a front row seat. 

Rating: Controlling behavior, f-bombs, Conrad being Conrad 

Previously: Part IV - 5 Minutes 

GIF credit to the original poster via the Tumblr search! (just, you know, replace the t-shirt with a bespoke suit) 

Part V - 5 Days 

You hadn’t slept well in days now.

Your wrists had ached long after he released the knots of his tie, the discomfort a constant reminder of that afternoon and everything it represented. If your night in his bed had felt like surrender, that afternoon felt like the ultimate submission. He seemed unbearably pleased with himself when you both dropped to his desktop, exhausted, sticky, and heaving for breath. 

But the fallout from that encounter had been equally as disturbing. 

Even through the humiliation of answering his questions and the mind-numbing pulse of pleasure, you didn’t forget that he had sacrificed a meeting to be with you, offering you your first glimpse at a timeline.

“Believe me, this time next week - it won’t matter.”

Of course, you could figure out the implications. It wouldn’t matter because the world as everyone knew it would...would just...cease to exist? Change? Upend? You didn’t have an accurate word for what he would do. 

But that wasn’t the worst part - the worst part was waiting. And continuing to wait. And now…? Now, two weeks had passed since he uttered that statement. Had something happened? Did you miss his great revolution? Had someone betrayed him? You didn’t understand, and you didn’t dare ask.

And, to make things worse - five days had also passed since Sebastian Barnes disappeared.

Honest-to-God disappeared. No one had heard from him. His flat was pristine, undisturbed. His car parked in its assigned spot. The office security cameras recorded him leaving and his car pulling away, but after that…well. It was anyone’s guess and the police had no leads. Simmons had been doing a decent job serving as interim Head of IT, but he couldn’t wait for his boss to return.

You didn’t dare ask Conrad about him, either. But of course, you suspected him. Between binding your wrists and his innovative use of cufflinks, he made clear his displeasure over Barnes’ treatment of you. Sure, Conrad was hellbent on world domination, but was he really the type of man to make men disappear? To murder?

A chill ran down your spine as you glanced to Conrad’s closed double doors. It made sense that he’d have to get his hands dirty to achieve world domination. But did Sebastian Barnes really pose that much of a threat?

You took a sip of your coffee, trying to push your sleep-deprived thoughts aside and glancing at the clock. 6:46 am. Plenty of time to run through your inbox before starting on the day’s to-do’s. And you needed to be on your game today – you were attending a production strategy meeting in three hours. Sure, it was Barton’s department now, but you still watched it like a hawk, taking extra pride in its continual success.

You recognized the hissing hinge of Conrad’s doors, the click of the handle closing. It was second nature to glance up, offering a polite smile as you waited for his instruction or request.

Even now, it still amazed you how he looked flawless every day without end. Today’s suit was a sleek charcoal that reflected an almost dark navy under the office lighting. A pocket square matched the crisp, pristine white of his shirt. He approached your desk, smoothing the front of his jacket and fastening the front button. His gaze met yours, sharp and bright. “Time to go, darling.”

Time to go? Wasn’t the work day just starting? You shook your head, smile faltering. “I don’t understand, sir. Your first meeting isn’t until 9 am.”

“Time to leave this world behind.” The corner of his mouth curved. “Time to build anew.”

The words stunned you. This was actually it? Today was the day? Your heart leapt and your stomach lurched as you struggled to form a thought. “Today?”

“Right now, in fact. No time to waste.”

You glanced to your desk, numb. Did you grab your laptop or coffee? Perhaps purse and phone? What would be left to come back to after…well, after. You didn’t even have a clue where you were going.

“You needn’t worry about any of your things. You won’t need them.”

The surety of his voice unnerved you. And, yet, moved you to action. You pushed up from your seat, grabbing your coffee tumbler. You couldn’t handle this without more caffeine. He started in a brisk clip for the door, reaching to hold it open for you. You passed through without acknowledging the gesture, feeling his hand quickly fall to the small of your back, steering you through the maze of office corridors.

Eventually, you reached the south end of the main building and he pushed the button for the service elevator. You knew better than to ask, despite the rising tide of anxious nerves that threatened to reject your last drink of coffee. Instead, you took a deep breath and another sip as he led you into the elevator confines.

He extracted a slim key from his pocket, inserting into a keyhole as he pressed the ‘LD’ button three times. A rather puzzling gesture. The loading dock was the lowest level for the service elevator, and only the employee elevators went the next two levels down to the parking garage.

His soft chuckle startled you as the key disappeared back into his suit. “You needn’t look so worried. Or, perhaps, it’s confusion? Either way, you’ll have your answers soon enough.”

You wanted to smart off. To tell him just how unhelpful that was. But you just swallowed another mouthful of coffee instead and told him what he surely wanted to hear. “Yes, sir.”

The elevator doors slid open to reveal…to reveal - 

You nearly tripped over your feet, bowled over at the sight before you. The elevator had opened onto a platform overlooking a covered dock on the water of the city harbor that berthed a sharp, sleek submarine. A small group of people moved about, bustling ropes, hefting boxes, calling out actions. The forward most hatch on the bow was open and a box emblazoned with ‘Dole Bananas’ rested beside it, the yellow fruit bright in the glow of high-pressure sodium lights.

This had to be it. The Operation ‘Blue Sea’ submarine prototype. Sure, Conrad had continued to funnel funds into the project account, but it had never occurred to you that he was actually pursuing the submarine - outfitting it to be his…well, his hideout, his floating command center, his place to stage global change.

Conrad’s amused chuckle sounded low in your ear. “Close your mouth, my dear.” His hand fell again to the small of your back, a guiding gesture. “Can’t have you catching flies before we cast off.”

Your feet moved of their own accord down the metal stairs as he followed swiftly on your heels. “You can’t be serious…that – that is your plan? Surely, we’ll never make it out of the harbor.” You scrambled to recall what you knew of submarine films. “There have to be submarine nets...radar, sonar….”

“And I’m insulted you haven’t given my development team enough credit.” His voice carried just above the din of preparations. “Operation ‘Blue Sea’ was conceived with the sole purpose of developing a stealth, reconnaissance submarine befitting the modern technological age. And we’ve had four years to perfect it ever since the government decided it wasn’t a practical investment.”

You stared at the gleaming black hull, at the sail that rose to an intimidating height. Claustrophobia had never afflicted you before, but you’d never been on a submarine. Your head went light at the prospect of being confined in that tube beneath the crushing ocean depths.

He stopped short, turning towards you with a questioning gaze. “Your watch, please.”

Suddenly the weight of your LOKI smartwatch felt like lead as you held it up yet drew it protectively towards your chest. “What for?”

His nimble fingers reached for your wrist, efficiently undoing the clasp and pulling your watch free. It dropped to the metal with a clink before he brought the heel of a pristine oxford down on the watch face.

You jolted as it cracked under the blow, and again as he brought his heel down a second time. The screen winked to black and he stooped to retrieve it. 

“No unauthorized GPS devices.” He tossed the damaged watch casually into the dark water of the submarine bay. 

You sighed, overwhelmed at the situation. Lamely, you waved your metal, insulated coffee tumbler. “What about this? Maybe there’s a hidden GPS tracking device in here...”

He arched a brow, impossible to tell whether in displeasure or disbelief. Maybe both. “You’re welcome to keep it if you can climb ladders with only one hand.” 

Your gaze stole up to the sail and the access ladder, watching a sailor scale up to the top. You knew what waited on the other side. Another ladder...one that led nowhere but inside.

Coffee wasn’t strong enough right now. You really needed tequila or bourbon. 

Raising the tumbler to your lips, you downed the rest of the dark, bitter liquid. You chucked the empty tumbler aside, hearing the metal exterior connect with the metal decking. You licked the last drop from your lips. “Well, you said no time to waste.” 

His eyes wrinkled with tells of amusement as the corners of his mouth pulled to a faint smirk. The tip of his tongue darted out to wet his lips as he lifted a hand gallantly towards the gangway. “Ladies first.” 

You tried not to focus on the murky water as you stepped onto the serrated metal, gripping the handrails as you felt the gangway roll with the bobbing submarine. Conrad followed right behind you, raising one hand in a signaled gesture to the dock workers. 

No turning back now. 

The kitten heel of your pumps plinked off the hull as you navigated the unsteady surface to the sail ladder. With one hand in front of the other, you started to climb. Thank god you wore slacks today. A hand extended at the top of the ladder, and you accepted the sailor’s steadying grip as you stepped off. The gentle swaying motion of the submarine was far more pronounced at this height, and you hoped seasickness wouldn’t set in. 

“After you, miss.” The sailor motioned down at the open hatch, an almost inviting glow emanating from it, offsetting the hull’s dark exterior. 

Your gaze caught Conrad’s as you stepped onto the ladder. He looked so impossibly pleased that you wanted to punch him. Maybe you could try later. 

Taking one step at a time, you descended into the calm buzzing activity below. You weren’t entirely sure what you expected of the interior - all you had to go on were Hollywood movies. But the control room was whitewashed clean, lined with some of the expected pipes and valving, but banks of sleek consoles and display screens dominated the space. A small uniformed crew hunched over stations, giving status reports to a central man who stood, coordinating the controlled chaos. No one paid you any mind as you stepped off the ladder, moving to one side. 

You studied the openings in the bulkheads that extended both fore and aft, but you had no clue what lay in front or behind. Would you even have free reign of the submarine? Would you be treated as a guest? A prisoner? 

Conrad stepped onto the landing beside you, and the groaning squeak of metal sounded above you. With a gasp, you looked up just in time to see the last vestiges of exterior light swallowed up by the black hatch, the watertight lock mechanism sealing into place. 

“Lion and Fox secure.” The man - supposedly the captain - standing front and center called into his radio. “Prepare to set sail.” 

Conrad stepped up to the man, conversing in low tones that you couldn’t quite make out. As best you could tell, the man took his orders from Conrad, of course. 

“Very good, captain,” Conrad said louder, stepping back, “take us down and blackout mode, if you please.” 

The captain opened a shipwide channel, sounding the order for dive preparations. The blaring of a klaxon horn made you jump as you stiffened, squeezing your eyes shut. You really didn’t want to know the minute the ship slipped beneath the waves - the thought of nothing but these walls between you and endless water….

“Darling, breathe,” Conrad’s gentle, soothing voice sounded in your ear, “in and out, slowly. Just breathe. You’re going to be alright.” 

“Am I?” Your words rushed out. “We’re in a fucking prototype submarine. How do you know it’ll even work! How...how can we already be diving...we haven’t even left the dock - are you sure it’s deep enough-” 

“Shh, now,” his arm wrapped around your waist, both in comfort and warning, “it won’t do for you to make a scene.” He tugged you along at his side, turning to the captain. “You know your course.” 

You let yourself be pulled along through the forward bulkhead, leaving the steady buzz of the control room behind. A narrow corridor along the curved hull snaked along a collection of rooms that stretched to the hull’s other side. He opened the first door, guiding you in. 

The room that greeted you looked so unassumingly ordinary. Half office, half living room - crisp furnishings, clean walls, and pleasant decor. If it weren’t for the couple of camouflaged pipes and the rushing sound of ballast tanks emptying - you could almost, almost believe that you were back in your office. 

“I’ll forgive you this once,” Conrad started softly, “but do not publicly cast doubt on my plans again. This prototype, as you called it, has made over thirty dives. I’ve personally overseen the testing of every system on board, and accompanied her through trials in open water. We’ve already proved all of the city’s best anti-submarine defenses inept.” He pulled you tighter against him, his scent wrapping around you. “I have not come so far, so close, to leave anything to chance at this late hour.” 

You looked up at him, still reminding yourself to breathe. “How long?” 

“How long...will we be at sea, or can we stay at sea?” 

You didn’t like the implication of the last option, but you had to know. “Both.” 

“We will be at sea for five days, but we are well provisioned to stay at sea for three months, if needs must.” 

“Three months?” How was that even possible? How could you go for three months without touching solid land? Without escaping him, without….without…. 

Soft lips pressed to your forehead. “There, there…just keep breathing.”

“What…what am I supposed to do? I-I’ll surely go crazy just sitting around here….”

He pulled back with a quizzical look. “Then, why would I continue to pay you?” He motioned towards the desk, and you registered the presence of a laptop. “You’ll find a remote connection to your office laptop. LOKI’s resources are at your disposal just as they ever were.”

You struggled to understand. Did he really just expect you to keep working...like it was any other day? “I don’t get it,” you looked back to him, “won’t LOKI have to take a hit or go down or something…in order for you to rise up?”

His brow furrowed. “Well, that would certainly be a waste. Especially considering that LOKI will need a new CEO in short order. My attention can only be divided so many ways.”

You froze on his words, stunned at the implications. Were you presumptuous enough to actually ask…?

He could probably see the question swirling in your eyes. Especially if the grin that teased his lips was any indication. “A new CEO who understands all the company’s workings and has set upon building a strategy of success that should only continue to flourish.”

“You can’t…fuck, you can’t be serious.”

He winked and turned around just as quick. You almost had to second-guess yourself – he had fucking winked.

His voice carried over his shoulder as he reached for the door handle. “Best of luck with today’s production strategy meeting.” 

Silence descended and you wanted to scream. 

What the fuck?

Up Next: Part VI - 5 Empires