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ticklikeabomb · 5 years

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One-shot : Interview with the Avengers

Pairing : Avengers x Plus Size Fem Reader

Warnings : language, innuendos, dirty jokes

Word Count : 2.2k

A/N : Here we go for another clumsy reader story :)

Today was the day. It was either a win or a complete disaster. You worked for S.H.I.E.L.D as an operative but quickly proved your marks at being one of the best Agents of the agency. You didn't have much friends at work except for Sharon Carter also known as Agent 13. You both hit it off probably because she was always around to have your back. Not when facing a specific danger but because you were a hell of a mess, clumsy. Just like the greek god Epimetheus you had the tendency to do or say things before thinking about them and it was bad. One day, finishing later that night, you walked by Nick Fury's office and saw him play with an orange cat. Without thinking you mumbled "Oh so Nick Fury likes pussies" and of course having his open ajar he heard you. Mortified you ran as fast as you could back home, hoping not getting fired. The following day he kept eyeing you while you would make yourself as tiny as you could.

"Agent Y/L/N ! ", he called, making you jump on your and cover your clothes with warm coffee. "Fucking sh-", you whisper yelled while cleaning the spot on your blouse. "Now Miss Y/L/N !", he called back and motioned you to his office. He went behind his desk about to take a sit when he saw the coffee spot on your blouse and gave you a hard look. "Small incident Sir, I will handle it as soon as we're over." "Good." He began explaining your work parkour and felt your hands tremble, thinking he would fire you. "That's why I scheduled a meeting with the Avengers. They will interview you and see if you're a fit to the team", he finished. You looked at him with a numb, frozen kind of way and he cleared his throat and you finally reacted. "I'm sorry I lost you at 'but you'. I'm pained that my work doesn't prouve being efficient but I can understand if you would like to fire me, I mean it's a life or death kinda job, so."

"Wait. I never said I would fire you at the contrary, you are expected at the Avengers compound where they will interview you and see if you'll join their team." You blinked a couple of times after hearing what he just said cracked up laughing. You laughed loudly to the point of having tears form in your eyes but quickly calmed yourself seeing his hard and firm expression. "Oh you're not kidding", you whispered. "Do I look like the type of person who jokes around?"

"I don't know, no one is immune to laughter and besides after seeing you all fluffy with that cat the other night", you saw his eye widened and quickly rambled. " - I mean, ehm, hhhkrrm, I no cat, eh, yeah hey you got a new jacket looks sleek? Is it real leather because if it is that's animal cruelty. Not that you would tolerate that kind of behavior. Please can you just kill me right now and make it stop?" "Agent Y/L/N for someone who has the ability to speak all languages existent in the universe you surely are not good with words and communication." You smiled shyly and responded, "Yeah I know irony right." "Anyway, next Tuesday 2 pm at the Avengers compound. Don't be late." "Yes of course, I will be there and give it my best without verbally escalating." He sighed before dismissing you.

"Yo Steve wait up", called Sam out of breath. Steve chuckled and turned around seeing Sam struggle. "And you have the nerve to call me old man hein", commented Steve with a smug smile. They were reaching the compounds entry when they spotted a magnificent plus size woman waiting sitting at one of the sofas. She was attentively eying a man across the shipping section and they saw her stand up. "Je ne ferrai pas ça si j'étais toi" (I wouldn't do that if I were you), she told the man. "Je ne vois pas de quoi vous parlez?" (I don't know what you're talking about), he replied. "Corriges moi si je me trompes mais tu étais sur le point de voler ce prototype du bouclier de Captain America et le truc c'est que s'il t'attrapes, il te bottera tellement fort le cul que t'aura des hémorroides précoce. Tu peux compter sur moi pour ne pas me mettre en travers son chemin." (Correct me if I'm wrong but you were about to steal one of Captain America's shield prototype and the thing is that if he catches you, he will kick your ass so hard you will get early hemorrhoids. You could count on me to not stop him from doing so.) "De quoi je me mèle, occupe toi de ton gros cul salope" (Mind your own damn fat ass, bitch), he said. You sighted and before Steve could intervene, you punched the guy effortlessly. "Awnn désolé ma main a glissée" (Awnn sorry my hand slipped). The two Avengers looked at you in awe go back to your sit, a wide smirk plastered on their faces. The guy in question was standing up and crashed against Steve's hard chest. When he looked up, the Captain gave him a furious look before handing him over to a security guard. "Come on Steve we'll be late for the meeting", commented Sam.

"Agent Y/L/N, they're ready to receive you", said the receptionist and indicated you the floor to stop on. In the elevator you went over the basics : "Ok think before speaking. Don't say anything inappropriate. Stay focus, try to impress them while being humble and for fucks sake don't say anything stupid." Just as you finished, the doors opened and you marched to the meeting room. Nick Fury saw you outside and indicated you to enter. You did as such, straightening your clothes and posture and greeted everyone after Fury's brief introduction. "Hello I'm Agent Y/L/N but you can call me Y/N, which is totally irrelevant since I was already introduced", you giggled nervously and mentally cursed yourself. You took place and let out a shaky breath before smiling at them. You saw Sam and Steve mumble something between them but didn't payed further attention. "So Y/N, your file and missions are quiet impressive. Care to tell us a little about some of them. Your favorite mission? The troubles you faced and yadda yadda yadda", exclaimed Tony shaking his hands.

"Sure can. I don't know if I deserve what seemed to be that credit you just subtly gave me. The missions are more of a team work really, I just follow the lead and try to do my best giving the situation at hand", you patted yourself for such a professional answer. He shook his head before declaring, "So you're boring." Your eyes widened, "Excuse me?" "Tony !", remarked Steve though greeted teeth. The billionaire dismissed the Captains stare and smirk at you. "I said you seem like the boring type of person and we don't think that would mix well with the team’s dynamic." You laughed and declared, "Oh if there's a word that doesn't describe me is boring. In fact I'm pretty sure the boring one in this audience must be you, you know speaking about maths and engineering and what not all the time. Do people actually understand you in a regular basis?" Your answer picked his curiosity and made the others chuckle. "Agent Y/L/N", called you out Fury. You noticed how inappropriate your words sounded and immediately apologized. "I'm sorry that was way out of line." "Don't apologize dear I'm curious. Tell me about your youth. Do you have any specific talent?."

You cleared your throat and began to explain what was your youth like. "Pretty basic : parents never home, always working, deeply proud of the prodigy son who followed their traces and that's pretty it. Concerning talents, my greatest talent is making people laugh without my consent by constantly embarrassing myself. "

Your answer made some of them laugh. "What about high school?", asked Natasha. "The language classes were always my favorite, not good in math, sports not really my cup of tea but I did like some sports. Football and by football I mean what you call soccer because that's (football) the sports real name ! And I was pretty good at handjob…HANDBALL, I mean HANDBALL !!!!", you panicky tried to rectify yourself. You closed your eyes in embarrassment while the room filled with laughter. You giggled nervously and said, "See talent, I'm just the best in that."

"I take back my boring comment, you convinced me", chuckled Tony. They kept interrogating you and you slayed the answers, somehow. "what about movies?", asked Sam. You frowned not really sure why that would matter but answered anyway. "My favorite movie is (Y/F/M). I love it beyond everything. There are still some classics that I have to watch, other that I started and never really finished, like for example Monty Python and the Gloryhole." Members of the team cracked up and you looked at them confused, just as confused as Steve, Bucky, Wanda, Vision and Thor. "I didn't know Monty Python and the Holy Grail had so much impact", you mumbled. And that made them lose it even more. "Oh dear, probably because you said Monty Python and the Gloryhole", explained Pepper. "I didn't say that did I?", You looked at them horrified and they nodded. "What's a Gloryhole?", asked Bucky perplexed. You cleared your throat and replied, "Ehm it's something, ehm how should I formulate this the most neutral way. Basically a hole in a bathroom, generally at clubs or bars where…good God someone help please", you begged. "It's a hole where guys sticks their dicks out to get it sucked by the person on the other side of the wall", stated Sam. You blinked a few times, warmth burning your body and nodded, slightly amused at the super soldiers disgusted faces. "Why would anyone do that???", exclaimed Steve. "People let me remind you the purpose of this interview which as I was expecting escalated real quickly", he said and his gaze landed at you. "I thought it was a good idea for Agent Y/L/N to join the team even if I let out one of the most vital aspects of her personality which is being really clumsy in the communication department all the time. Considering this aspect I'm afraid I was wrong and Agent Y/L/N will continue working as an operative at S.H.I.E.L.D."

'Fuck', you thought. Sure you were sometimes a mess but you were really looking forwards for that chance. You stood up and looked at them. "I'm sorry I wasted your precious time. Director Fury, I will see you tomorrow at the office. If you'll excuse me, I'm gonna go now and wish you all a good day." With that you left the room, shame and embarrassment written all over your features. After you left, with a smug smile Fury turned towards the team and asked "What do you think?" "Oh I like her", stated Tony with big eyes. "She is quite entertaining", shouted Thor. "She can punch a guy", commented Sam and asked F.R.I.D.A.Y to show them what happened at the hall. "Another thing I forgot to mention and that isn't stated in her file, she understands and speaks all the languages known in the universe, which would provide a real advantage during missions", told Nick. "She's by far the best candidate we had the opportunity to see today", added Vision. "I agree", the others commented. "It's settled then", said Fury and stood up. "Oh and please no more stories about Gloryholes", he said before leaving the room laughing.

The next day the Director called you at his office. "Y/N you're fired" "Oh that was …fast and direct", you replied. "Pack your things as soon as possible, Stark's chauffeur will wait for you at your appartement." You nodded and let your head down before his words hit you. "Wait why would Tony Stark's chauffeur wait for me?" "Because you're the team's new member. Welcome to the Avengers, Epimetheus", he declared. "Wait for real?", your eyes shone brightly and you jump on his arms happily. "Thank you Sir, I will not let you down." "I would appreciate you would right now", he commented and you gasped. "Oh sorry didn't mean to you know." "Yeah yeah I know. Oh and for the record Agent Y/L/N, I do love some pussy." You sighed and blinked your eyes in a mix of confusion and humor. "O-k-ay, I didn't really need to know that but ok. I'm gonna go cause you know, Imma bout to join the real game so bye homie. I mean Sir. Goodby Sir." "Just go before I change my mind", he stated and you laughed. When you were out, he shook his head and let out a chuckle. "These Millenials are crazy Motherfuckers."

* gifs not mine, credit to owners*

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living-dead-parker · 5 years

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Tragos Amargo - T.H

A Tom Holland x Mexican!reader

Summary: Tom sees you for who you are when you’re drunk. A Mexican tradition in the making. A very self-indulgent fic bc ya girl is Mexican and I would like to see more of that kind of interaction in fanfic lmao

Warnings: cussing maybe idk, mentions of alcohol, the Mexican stereotype where Mexican parents will get drunk at a kid’s birthday party until like the early hours of the morning and start singing to Chente or Ramon Ayala, but is it really a stereotype if it actually happens bc y’all don’t know the number of times I’ve seen my mother and my grandpa and plenty of others do this at any party really.

Word Count: 1.1k

A/N: The song sung is called Tragos Amargos by Ramon Ayala is y’all want to find and translate the lyrics.

It had been a long night of partying. It really was. A mutual friend of yours, as well as the whole cast of the Spider-Man crew, was having a birthday. You'd known this person since childhood, actually, being a close family friend that you remember seeing at every party as a kid. They understood the whole Mexican party thing. Show up half an hour late, eat and converse for a while, drink until you have the courage to dance and show off, then if you were special enough, you stayed until late to drink more and get emotional. However, you never got that far. Even when you became a legal adult, you never got as far as the last bit. Until now.

Now, you all sit in a circle. Your mutual friend, named Antonio sits in the with his back facing towards his house. You sit next to him, Tom on your other side, holding you close. Everyone would comment on how sick you two lovebirds are, but they think it's cute nonetheless. On Tom's other side sits Harry, followed by Sam, then Jacob, Zendaya, Darnell, then Harrison and back full circle. The only Spanish-speaker there are you and Antonio, yet everyone kind of knew where the night was going. You're drunk and so is Antonio, they all are in various phases of being buzzed, but none as close to drunk as you. Antonio plays music from his portable speaker, as the time now reads two-thirty in the morning. It's late.

"Y/N, remember being kids and we used to mess with my tia Chema?" he asks loudly, giggling as the alcohol rushes through him.

"Oh yeah, huh?" you ask, your accent coming out a little. It's funny to them all. "Those were the good days, running around and stealing her stuff until it was all gone. She threw the biggest fits and as soon as she left, the real party began."

Antonio laughs heartily as you recall the story of your childhood. Everyone joined in by giggling as well. They watch as you take another swig of your drink; a mixed tequila drink with more tequila than a mixed drink should have. You lean your head on Tom's shoulder as he looks over at you. He leans down again and presses a kiss to your cheeks and you respond in a likewise manner. You're very sentimental and emotional most of the times that you're drunk.

"She was the reason that Luisito broke up with me when we were ten," you tell Antonio, making him laugh at you. "But that's not so bad because I got my Tommy here," you respond, wrapping your arms around the man next to you. He leans into your arms and you can't help but kiss him. "Tom," you call out, pulling him closer to you and pressing your lips to his in a chaste kiss before pulling away from him. "I love you so much," you slur. "You're so pretty, you're my pretty boy and I want you in my life forever. I love you."

You turn to Antonio and pull him into your arms. He wraps his arms around you and he presses a kiss to your hair, smiling as he rests his head on yours. "You're like a brother to me Tonio," you tell him. He nuzzles his face into your hair. "We've been through so much and I can't believe we're still friends to this day. You're so amazing and you deserve only the best in the world. I love you, man."

You then look straight ahead at Zendaya and smile at her. "You're so pretty," you call out to her, your voice wavering. You don't see it, but Harry has been recording the whole time. "Like, you're so gorgeous, I sometimes question whether I like Tommy as much as I like you. Which I do, way more, but you're so pretty. You make my heart flip with how nice and talented you are and if I wasn't in love with Tommy, I'd probably be in love with you."

From there, you turn to Harry. "Harry, you're such a good guy. Your photography is so good and I think you're such a swell guy," you say. Then you turn to Sam. "Sam, you're also a good guy and Elysia is so lucky to have you. She's so gorgeous and you both make a hot couple, and I love you guys and you're both so precious."

Then you turn to Darnell and Harrison. "Darnell, I don't know you too well, but we're friends, right? I think you're so cool and the fact that you're the Madi to Z's me is astounding. Plus, you're so pretty too. Wow."

You turn to Jacob and smile. "Jacob, you're such a funny guy. You're also a great cuddler and a great listener. You remind me of a lot of good things in the world. I love you too," you tell him. Then you turn to Harrison and smile. "Harrison, you bit sweetie pie," you tell him. "You have really beautiful eyes and an even more beautiful soul. You're so kind and Monty is such a good dog, I love him. I love you too, you're so cool. I can't believe we're friends."

By the time you're done, Antonio hits skip on the song currently playing and everything falls into place as the next song begins playing. Almost like clockwork. You hear the accordion and the drums and everything else kick in and you and Antonio turn to each other. You wrap your arms around each other, sighing dramatically.

"Clavado en este rincón, como tu clavastes a mi corazon. Estos tragos que tomo son pura tristeza y son mi dolor," you and Antonio sing along. The song continues for some time and as the chorus reaches, everyone is watching intently. Both you and Antonio brace yourselves and begin shouting along with the song as you both sing while in tears. Your moment has finally come. "Trago de amargo liquor, que no me hacen olvidar, y me siento como un cobarde, que hasta me pongo a llorar."

It wasn't too long after this shared moment that you were in bed and asleep. The next morning, you woke up in an empty bed. You had been changed into pajamas and you had a hangover. There were some pills placed on the bedside drawer with a bottle of water. After sitting up, you take the pills and hop off, dragging yourself to the kitchen where everyone was. You could smell some food but that's the last thing you want. You just want some coffee and maybe an egg. Maybe.

However, as you walk down the stairs to the kitchen, you check your phone, seeing the video that Harry had posted on Instagram. Of you and Antonio singing and crying together. Today should be fun.

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lyonrhodes · 5 years

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One Bad Day #8: Collapse

Red Hood x OC, Batman/DC Fan Fic

Summary: Dora has lived in Gotham her whole life and is accustomed to the rampant crime and corruption. Her life gets worse when Black Mask takes over the city. She thinks all hope is lost but a new vigilante appears, calling himself the Red Hood. However, he’s not your typical knight in shining armor. Dora must decide: does she dare fall in love with a revenge-driven killer? (Romance, Crime, Action)

Chapter 8: Collapse

Dora ripped the orange biohazard sticker off the Alibi’s front door. Her mother Anita struggled to get the police tape off the gaping opening that would have been the bar’s plate-glass window, so Dora helped her out. “Hopefully all that was enough to keep out looters,” Dora said, balling up the tape.

“In this city? On Park Row? I doubt it,” said her mother.

The GCPD had taken two whole days to catalog the evidence, and the crime scene cleaners another two to do their jobs—getting rid of all the blood and gore left behind by the bodies. Dora’s mother had given the cleaners keys to the bar so they could lock up the kitchen, office, and bathrooms when they were done. However, anyone walking down the street could have just stepped through the tarp that covered the broken front window and take anything they wanted from the main barroom. Dora did just that—it was quicker than walking through the front door.

“Dios mio,” Anita gasped.

The crime scene cleaners had stripped down the barroom to its bare bones. Most of the floor panels had been removed, baring the concrete foundation underneath. The upholstery from the booths had been ripped out, the couches and armchairs from the lounge area were gone, along with a lot of the tables and chairs. An entire wall had been stripped of its wood paneling, and another had a hole in it big enough to step through to the bathroom behind it. The copper piping was missing. Anti-septic fumes lingered in the air.

“What the fuck happened in here?” Anita stared at the hole in the wall. “And what happened to the pool table?”

When Dora had told her mother what happened that night, she had left out Carla and Holly’s participation, and had glossed over the gory bits—like the man that had basically burst like a water balloon splattered blood everywhere when Red Hood’s motorcycle slammed him into the pool table. “You don’t want to know.” She felt her stomach lurch just remembering it. “At least they left the bar alone.”

Anita scoffed. The bar was still there, but the wood was cracked and pockmarked with bullet holes. The tap handles were bent or missing. The liquor shelf behind the counter was a ruin and the wall itself was swiss cheese; the mirror was shattered and all the shelves were gone, along with the bottles that had been kept there. In fact, all the drinks were gone, including the kegs underneath the counter—and the area still reeked of alcohol. Dora wondered if that was the work of the cleaners or looters.

“Some hero that Red Hood guy is.” Anita ran her hand across the scarred bar top, brushing off debris. “He saved us from getting robbed by those gangbangers, but it was the cops that fucked us over.”

“What do you mean?”

Anita sighed. “The crime scene cleaners took almost all of the insurance payout. The check is coming, but it’s not going to be very much. Paying to fix this place up will have to be out of our pocket mostly.”

Dora’s heart sank. She remembered the last time they completely renovated the bar—ten years ago. Her parents were in debt for years. It wasn’t until President Luthor’s relief bailout after the earthquake that they managed to get out of debt, but almost immediately afterward Black Mask took over the rackets on Park Row. The Alibi never stayed pristine and new for very long.

“Don’t worry, it’ll be alright,” Dora said, placing her hand on her mother’s shoulder. “We got through it... twice, three times? We can do it again. It’s about time, anyway. This place needed an update.”

Anita shrugged off Dora’s hand. “No. I don’t think we can do it this time around. We don’t have the money, mija. Black Mask took most of our savings with his damn racket, and the tenants are breaking off their leases because of all the crap that keeps happening here. Entiende, who wouldn’t move out with three murders on their doorstep—todo dentro un solo ano. We just don’t have the savings or the income to rebuild... We...”

No, don’t say it, Mami.

But she did. “We have to sell it. Cut our losses and leave this place behind. Let it be someone else’s problem.”

“But this place, this whole building, has been in our family for generations, we can’t just leave it behind...”

“Your family, Dora, not mine.”

That stung. A lot. Te quiero, Mami, pero you’re such a bitch.

Dora’s mother had estranged herself from her father when they divorced. They had still co-owned the building, but split its management; Monty ran the Alibi on the first floor, while Anita became the supervisor and landlord of the apartments upstairs. When Monty died, the first thing Anita wanted to do was lease the Alibi, but Dora convinced her not to.

Taking a breath, Dora tried to settle her emotions. “How else are we going to support ourselves? This place is your job, Mami—and mine. You’re not qualified to do anything else. You don’t even have a high school diploma!”

“Look here, mija, I managed this bar and a dozen apartments, and kept books on all of it, by myself for over twenty years. Your father never did that shit, it was me. I have more experience than any fucking CPA or landlord or super in this city that’s worked as long. That has to be worth something to somebody.”

“Do you really want to demote yourself to being a super elsewhere, if anyone will even hire you, when you’ve been your own boss for such a long time? You’ll make much less money working for someone else than you will for yourself. Tu sabes eso. We need this place. As much as you don’t like to admit it, this bar wasn’t just Dad’s lifeblood, it’s yours too. It’s mine. Soy Silva, soy Latina, soy de Santa Prisca, como ti, Mami. Pero entienda que tambien soy Montgomery. Yo soy la hija de mi padre.”

She couldn’t tell if her mother was angry or sad, but either way she was on the verge of tears. “Yo queria mas para ti que esto. You were in college, Dora. You were supposed to be a doctor, not a bartender. And you threw it all away for this dump.”

Dora grabbed her mother’s shoulders. “Let Carla be the doctor in the family. Let Mercedes be a lawyer, a broker, or an engineer or the fucking president or whatever. I’m willing to sacrifice my future and invest it in this place to give them those opportunities. Like you and Dad did for me.”

Those words broke the levee. Anita rummaged through her purse and pulled out a tissue to dab her eyes with. “Fine,” she sighed, then cupped Dora’s cheek, looking into her face. “You may have gotten my looks, but you were always his daughter more than mine.”

悪

Over the next few days, Dora and her mother worked out the finances.

The insurance check was chump change like Anita had expected, so they got a loan from the bank. However, the bank only approved a small amount at a ridiculous interest rate because the Alibi’s accounting was a nightmare—poorly kept and inexact, with unexplainable losses and gains all over the place. Her mother was insulted, but Dora thought it was ironic. Their books were only in such terrible shape because of Kosov’s and Black Mask’s extortion and money laundering over the years.

To supplement the loan, Dora had to take out a title loan on her father’s vintage 1969 Chevy Impala, which almost broke her heart. Sometimes she felt like the car was imbued with his spirit more than the Alibi itself. It, too, had been in the family for generations.

But even the loans weren’t enough. It took hours of debating, but Anita was finally able to convince Dora to mortgage the Montgomery building, meaning they no longer owned it—the bank did, but they still had most of the rights to the property.

And with that, they had enough to rebuild the bar, but at the cost of the heaviest debt Dora had ever known in her adult life. She knew how she was going to pay it back—it was just daunting to think how long it would take. She couldn’t rely on the income sources she had once taken for granted. For once, she began to regret her decision to keep the building, but her father’s memory made her persevere.

Some of the Montgomery building’s tenants had already moved out in the wake of the shooting. More said they weren’t going to renew their leases. The remaining renters united, demanding lower rent or else they would move out as well. Dora negotiated with them, at first leaning heavily on sympathy, but she eventually had to convince them that Red Hood was their ally. He would protect them if anything ever happened again—which was unlikely because by now every gangbanger, narco, and mafioso on Park Row knew not to mess with the Alibi, the Montgomery Building, or anyone living in it.

Dora and the tenants agreed to some terms, but it led her to think about Red Hood and if he would actually extend his protection to the tenants like she had promised, not just to her and the Alibi. Lately, it seemed like he was actually protecting her, giving her an uncomfortable new sense of the term “protection money”—the literal sense. The monthly twenty-five percent she still owed him weighed on her conscience as much, if not more, than her other debts.

Red Hood had saved her life on two occasions, but she couldn’t forget that he was a criminal as much as he was a hero. He killed people, ruthlessly. Only bad people, but nonetheless, in the eyes of the law they were people that didn’t necessarily have to die. He ran the brothel that Holly worked at now, technically making him her pimp. And Dora had learned through Holly what became of the cocaine Carla had brought into the bar—Red Hood had sold it. That didn’t sit right with Dora, but it relieved her somewhat to know that Red Hood sold the cocaine not on the streets of Park Row, nor Gotham’s other ghettos like the East End, Backport, or the Narrows, but instead to the spoiled gentry on the Upper West Side.

Dora had no idea how Red Hood would react when she told him she couldn’t make her first payment, let alone the second, or the third, or possibly the fourth. The Alibi wouldn’t bring in revenue for at least a month because of the remodeling, and they wouldn’t make a sizable profit for years because of the debt... And that was only if the bar actually survived that long. She wasn’t certain if any of her customers would return, especially if her dwindling tenants were any indication.

When Red Hood wasn’t shooting people and cutting off their heads, he seemed like a relatively nice guy... Would he understand? Twenty-five percent of zero was still zero.

As days went by, Dora started to doubt herself more and more, believing she had financially ruined her family, like her father almost did—ten years ago, during the last renovation. The risk had paid off then, but only because of a lucky government bailout had saved them from bankruptcy.

悪

“Well, this is the last of it.” Carla grunted as she pulled the crowbar back, ripping what remained of the ruined cabinetry away from the wall. The wood cracked, splintered, and finally snapped. She kicked the debris into a pile in the corner.

“Great, thanks,” Dora said, not looking Carla’s way, busy calculating the cut she had to make on the tile in her hands. She marked it with a pencil and lined it up with the whirring buzz saw.

“Why don’t you let the contractors do that?”

“Because they’ll charge us.” Dora swapped her glasses for safety goggles.

“So?”

“Every penny counts, Carla.”

“Be careful, Dee.”

“I know what I’m doing.” Pretty much. Dora was thankful she had learned a lot about home improvement from her father when she was younger, having helped him maintain the apartments upstairs as the super. Lesson one was how not to pay a professional for simple little tasks you could do yourself—if you weren’t lazy.

Satisfied with the cut, she blew the dust off the tile and set it on a sawhorse. “You should head home,” she said to Carla, looking outside. “It’ll be dark soon.”

“Mom said to pick up dinner on the way back. What do you feel like eating tonight?”

Dora fished through her pockets and pulled out a few crumpled bills. “Here, get something from Fausto’s.”

Carla looked down at the money. “You’re not coming with me?”

“Nope.” Dora picked up another tile and went to a corner. She knelt down and penciled in some reference marks. “I’ll be home in a few hours. The contractors are coming tomorrow, so I have to finish this today.”

If she didn't, and continued tomorrow with the contractors around, she would have to endure a pack of beer-bellied Santa Priscan illegals her mother insisted she hire (to save money) telling them what to do—whether it was because they thought a woman’s handiwork was inferior, or as a pretense to flirt with them.

“Um...” Carla hesitated. “Okay, I guess I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah. See ya. Don’t forget to get a quesadilla for Mercy, and a flan for Mami. You know how she loves those.”

Before her sister had even left the bar, Dora was back to work. She had lied to Carla. She knew it would take her more than a few hours to tile the floors—easily all night. But the bar was closed indefinitely, so she could sleep in tomorrow while the contractors worked. Even still, if she wanted to minimize how much she had to deal with them, there was no time to waste.

A few hours later, her back was aching and her knees were sore from all the crawling around... but she was only half done. She still needed to do the lounge area, the pool and darts area, and cut down more tiles for the odd corners by the doors to the office and bathrooms... She groaned as she stretched and popped the kinks in her back. She needed a piss and a cold drink of water before continuing—and maybe some coffee... or maybe some whiskey.

In the bathroom, she washed her face in the sink and ran some water through her hair. As she dried off, someone knocked on the back door.

Dora froze. The knock came again, harder. She fumbled for her glasses and slid them on.

When she started renovating the bar a few days ago, the first thing she had done was replace the wooden front and back doors with ones made of industrial-grade steel with magnetic RFID locks. She would have installed a proper security system, complete with cameras and an alarm, but there simply wasn’t enough money in the budget.

She poked her head into the kitchen. “Go away! We’re closed!”

Whoever was behind the door didn’t answer; they only knocked again, more insistent.

Maybe the new steel door was too dense to hear through. It might be Holly, Dora thought. She usually came around at this time of night when she got off work for a free drink and some conversation. But just to be careful, Dora reached for the crowbar Carla had been using earlier, wishing Red Hood hadn’t borrowed her father’s gun. She felt naked without it now.

She unlocked the back door and it swung open. No one was there. The alley was empty; obscured in darkness except for a dim flickering lamp overhead. She gripped the iron bar tighter.

“Holly? I’m here,” Dora called out, stepping outside. “Hello?”

Gravel crunched behind her. She wasn’t alone.

Without stopping to think, Dora turned around and swung the crowbar.

[v0.3.15.1]

#red hood #redhood #jason todd #jasontodd #dc comics #dccomics #batman #xreader #x reader #xoc #x oc #red hood x reader #red hood x oc #jason todd x reader #jason todd x oc #fanfiction #fanfic

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twdfanfics · 7 years

Text

Mischievous Translator

Request: Yes, anon

Put through google translate ironically so sorry for mistakes Could you be a part two to Foreigner, where they are in Alexandrea tries and Carl to talk with the reader and hit on it, but hes make a fool of himself and inadvertently insults her. I imagine the French taunter from Monty Python four down reason. Happy ending please and love your work❤️❤️❤️

WARNINGS: NONE

Words: 443

Sorry that it’s been a bit slow posting. Exams are killing me so I’ve had to focus more on studying and writing to the side for a little. Should be getting back on schedule soon!

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It’s been a few weeks here at Alexandria and it’s been amazing. Aaron has been teaching you some English when he can and you’ve been learning quickly. It doesn’t feel quick enough for you. Sure, you’re able to understand them more now--much more--but you’re still outcasted by it. Although, Carl has been sneaking off with Aaron which makes you hope that maybe he��s trying to learn French so he can talk to you, but that’s probably just wishful thinking.

“Y/n!” Carl calls to you while you’re helping Maggie out in the pantry putting away food they just found while on a run. You turn to look at him and smile. Carl is a nice guy, to say the least. He’s been good to you here, trying his best to help you adjust and even teaching you a few phrases that he knows Aaron probably won’t cover. And in turn you taught him a few of your favorite words.

“Hello, Carl,” you say. Your accent makes the words a bit hard to understand, but you’ve been working on it. Carl responds back in French, buturing the pronunciation a bit, but you find it cute he tries. And it’s not like you’re doing perfect with English so.

“Uhh…” he looks over his shoulder and you see Aaron sort of shooing him on. “Tu es laid.” At first you’re offended then burst out laughing. Aaron is fooling with him. Poor Carl looks so confused and you feel bad for him.

Carl shoots a look to Aaron and motions for him to come back to him. You laugh and look at Maggie who wears a questioning expression.

“I am ugly,” you say, trying to explain. Maggie doesn’t understand what you mean, but you can’t explain it to her really.

Carl walks back over and he looks as red as a tomato. Poor guy.

“Tu es belle,” he mutters sheepishly. Even though it took him a try--not that it was his fault--you still blush a bit and smile.

“Thank you, Carl,” you say, giving him a peck on the cheeks.

“I ask Aaron for help. Didn’t go well.” You laugh and punch him on the shoulder.

“Maybe not. It was...cute?” He blushes even more.

“I’ll take it.” You catch Maggie out of the corner of your eye. She tells you two to get out of the pantry so she can get work done. Her tone is very jokingly, not meaning it seriously. You exchange a look with Carl then look to Aaron who’s watching the both of you. Carl understand waht you mean and you both set off in a run, chasing after the mischievous translator.

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