#3752
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engaged to be married but secretly eloped because they couldn’t wait any longer
#andrei svechnikov#pyotr kochetkov#carolina hurricanes#canes lb#3752#what’s their ship name?#svechkoch maybe
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#3752 @ 福岡県北九州市小倉北区砂津(西鉄砂津バスセンター)
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Sell my Car South Morang 3752 #South Morang #3752 #Victoria #Australia https://www.cardismantlers.com.au/south-morang/
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3752 Chicago, IL 04/09/2024
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heh heh goat girl
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Marquise Spinneret Mindfang
Act 5, page 3746-3759
Much fanfare was made of the trial. More than I would have dared to hope. It seems my luck has 8een returning of l8.
The High8loods surely intended to make a spectacle of my conviction. They filled the court8lock with peasants ravenous for the comeuppance of a 8lue 8lood. I wasn't a8out to deny them what they came for.
It was kind of the authorities to supply me with phalanx of such impressiona8le spect8ors. The weak wills were nearly as thick in the air as the rust in their veins. Funny how my other senses seem to have piqued since exchanging glances with the dragon. What an extraordinary specimen. How I've come to covet the creature since it ruined my fleet. I know too well the whispers of a dangerous new infatu8tion when they 8eckon. 8ut I digress.
It was simple enough to nudge the hostility of the low8loods from one aristocrat to another. The su8juggl8ors could not have 8een pleased, 8ut nor could they have 8een altogether unamused, I would expect. I wonder if this was part of their unfathoma8le game? I'll never understand their riddles.
I only regret I didn't get to hear the opening st8ment the neophyte had prepared against me. The case she compiled from all that evidence she 8urned must have been damning. I 8et her remarks would have stung worse than when she severed my arm. She certainly would have shown me gr8ter mercy 8y taking the other instead!
Alas, I mock to disguise the extent of my regret.
Had my escape not necessit8ed her demise, she would have made a lovely rival. If she'd only discarded her childish preoccup8tion with justice, we might have made a striking scourge. Had we inched 8lacker we'd have torn red miles across the land and sea. Unfortun8ly, the only miles to 8e found through her 8ureaucratic calling were those of red tape. When so ensnared, one is eventually 8ound to 8e choked.
With the court8lock cleared, all that remained to o8struct my freedom was His Honora8le Tyranny himself.
Upon reflection, Redglare showed the foresight of a true seer in thieving my arm 8efore the trial.
It permitted a fair fight.
Though I was free, I had no fleet. No matter. With the gam8lignants decim8ed, I'd em8raced the turn in fortune and pledged to put my seagrifting ways 8ehind me. With any luck, the skies will 8e my future. My thoughts again returned to that dragon.
8ut first, I was in need of temporary refuge. I sought it with the expatri8.
He owed me for the sweeps of protection I provided after his 8razen defiance of the High8loods. It was perhaps the only such courageous stand ever taken against a superior 8y one of his supercilious pedigree, and I'd not have 8othered sticking my neck out for another. 8ut the admir8ion he'd won naturally wore thin as he persistently 8emoaned his treason and 8anishment, and I was saddened to find this ha8it holding "STRONG" even now. I wonder if he still 8elieves she was worth it?
Repairing my arm would go a little further in squaring his de8t with me. Even if I came with 8oth intact I might have ripped one off and put him to the task just to halt to his 8lu88ering. Darkleer was always a skilled machinist and the work proved an adequ8 distraction. So pacified, he listened to what I had to say, a8out my recent travails with the law, and Pyralspite, and what I'd come for in truth - the treasure he'd 8een keeping safe for me.
I cradled the oracle in my synthetic hand, as if appraising 8y w8 the mystic qualities it still concealed. With my vision 8fold seared away, I was as 8lind to its secrets as the old Doctor was to its present wherea8outs. I'd learned to keep it cloaked from the awareness of the man who once called me his protege, a 8ackhanded term of endearment from a smug manipul8or. Loc8ing his so called dark pockets was the only gam8it I had in countering his milktongued dou8lespeak. The expatri8 for indiscerni8le reasons seemed naturally surrounded 8y such a void in the Doctor's awareness, and so was uniquely fit to inherit the or8. The Doctor could not see his treasure, nor I into it.
I considered what to do with it for a while. Should I find Pyralspite 8y consulting with the oracle, as I'd done so often to steal fortune from my adversaries? I guessed exploiting some technological means of gazing through its surface may have 8een simple enough, 8ut I hesit8ed. Every expedient granted 8y its counsel, though never instantly, came at a price. Knowing his n8ture, I'm surprised I only now recognize it as yet another instrument of his spurious 8enevolence, dangerous 8y way of selective divulgence. The sense of infalli8ility his oracle 8rought me was superficial, and in hindsight weakened my readiness. Knowing my f8 so far in advance, I took Redglare's threat lightly. The gr8est mistake I have ever made was asking the or8 when I would die.
8ut as I revisited the prophecy surrounding this unfortun8 query, something struck me. I thought of the man I would have as a m8sprit centuries from now, who was said to command an army of 8easts. The one it called the summoner.
If my o8session with the dragon should continue to 8urn for so long, would he 8e the one to assist me in taming it? I did not have enough knowledge to ask the right questions when I had the opportunity. Were that the case, I might have asked if it would 8e his rare a8ilities of communion that would 8ring Pyralspite under control. Would it 8e on account of my influence? And if so, would I exert this influence 8y taking his will, or winning his heart? These are details I would have given no second thought in drawing from the or8, my curiosity a force usually too much to quell. 8ut now...
I have thought of the summoner often. I have 8een trou8led to know that as one so common 8looded, he could not possi8ly have hatched yet, nor will he wriggle from the caverns for many sweeps. So I must have p8tience to take up my role in his story of heroism. It is a tale which reads to me as though lifted from a child's story, yet I know I'd 8e a fool to dou8t its veracity entirely. He would rise through the ranks of the cavalreapers and assume command, having proven the most skilled and fearless of them. He would exhi8it a remarka8le pup8tion, the sort only recorded in myth, growing, or perhaps simply revealing, a striking pair of wings. His army thus inspired would spearhead a major re8ellion. Surely one at least on the scale of the sectarian revolt crushed 8y the High8loods, who thereafter for8ade its mention, or any invoc8tion of the heretical sym69ls at all, even in private journals. Which is why I will stick to the fa8le of the summoner, and not risk another execution with even o8lique reference to the compelling tale of the sufferer.
Resolution to the summoner's mutiny is foggy, as I only understand what has 8een rel8ed to me through the 8rief answers I thought to solicit. Ultim8ely, the ire of the Condesce would 8e such that in the settling dust of the conflict, she would 8anish all from the homeworld, except the young. She would scatter all who reached maturity to the stars to fight her wars, I presume to keep them occupied, existing in a less centralized st8 from which such a coup may arise. This is still an incredi8le notion for me to consider, and I cannot imagine how she would come to enforce such an upheaval in our civiliz8tion. Though I suppose she will have on her side the advantage of an unparalleled lifespan, and the leverage extended 8y the hideous psychic prongs of her deep undul8ing monstrosity. That is, until it chooses another little witch to serve. Nevertheless, I take the prediction as truth, and find it amusing that a homeworld domin8ed 8y children will 8e the gr8 summoner's legacy. One of them, at least.
More importantly, and less amusingly, his legacy will 8e my demise. You see, I first learned his name when I asked who would 8e the one to kill me.
I have never spoken nor written of him out of contempt for the prophecy, 8ut do so here, in my final entry for this journal. I took this to 8e a pitia8le fate, and scoured the or8 for any means of escaping it, or at least, to salvage a little dignity from the tale of my downfall. Alas, it had no consol8tion for my vanity.
8ut as I sit here deciding what to do with the damna8le little sphere, I understand my error. It was not in failing to chart a course through future events to turn my fortune's tide, even so many sweeps from now. It was in 8elieving the future was mine to know, and fortune mine to control. If this hero is meant to 8reathe life into my em8ittered heart, and if he is to earn the right to run it through, then so 8e it. For him, I will commit to this page my highest expect8tions. And for what precious uncertainty is left in my future, I renew my vigorous anticip8tion.
The oracle I will resolve to part with. I will conceal it in a crypt 8earing the sign of the expatr8, with a map to its loc8tion hidden in this journal. To whomever finds it, 8e wary, for the truth it tells may leave its new keeper 8lind as I was. Though no more.
#homestuck#marquise spinneret mindfang#page 3746#page 3747#page 3748#page 3749#page 3750#page 3751#page 3752#page 3753#page 3754#page 3755#page 3756#page 3757#page 3758#page 3759#homestuck act 5 act 2#homestuck act 5
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I am trying to write a post and yet nothing is coming to me. I don't think there is anything left to be said. Massacres-food shortages-polio epidemic of Gaza, I have talked about it all in an effort to fundraise for my friend Siraj Abudayeh ( @siraj2024 ). Mostly because this is what his life has come to, despite not having any say in it at all. A settler colony willed to destroy Gaza and because of that for almost a year, Siraj and his family are:
having to live in a tent, where there is no relief from either heat, cold or rain
where sand mites and insects keep pestering the family all day long
causing a breakout of infections amongst Siraj’s sons, and putting the rest of their cousins at risk
since right now all of Siraj’s extended relatives ( 23 family members) are currently living with him after being displaced in an IOF attack
I have talked about this and more. I have talked about how every day Siraj has to take risks and go to Deir al-Balah just to get a steady hotspot connection so that he may campaign for his fundraiser and how after all this he gets harassed online because he is a journalist who gives us his daily updates. Beyond this I do not know what else to say to you so that you may donate to Siraj and help him cross this last lap of his fundraiser.
Recently Siraj posted an update about the massacre at al-Mawasi camp and it hits you hard when you realize that this camp is just 2 km away from Siraj’s own. Everyday when he sends me a message, I breathe a sigh of relief because after all these months- from our first tentative hellos to now when we crack jokes after a machine translated chat goes wrong, there is always a fear that maybe this might just be our last interaction. I know these thoughts have nothing to do with the fundraiser in itself, but my point is, as a friend, Siraj has requested that I help him reach 82k and right now this is all I can do. So please donate even if it is $3 USD ( $5 CAD). The fundraiser has trickled to almost a crawl and this makes Siraj worry. At least the gfm reaching its goal would be one less burden on him. He has fought so hard for this, please do not let him down now.
Currently at $78,248 / $82,000 CAD. Only $3752 CAD left to reach his goal. That is approximately 2.7k USD.
Please donate and get Siraj to his goal by this Monday. You got him this far, do not abandon him now.
Vetting 219
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Waldorf Astoria Las Vegas
The Waldorf Astoria Las Vegas, formerly the Mandarin Oriental, Las Vegas, is a 47-story luxury hotel and condominium building in the CityCenter complex on the Las Vegas Strip in Paradise, Nevada. It is managed by Hilton Worldwide as part of the Waldorf Astoria Hotels & Resorts brand. It is owned by Tiffany Lam and Andrew and Peggy Cherng.
The hotel was originally owned by MGM Mirage and Dubai World, and operated by Mandarin Oriental Hotel Group as part of its luxury chain. It opened on December 4, 2009, occupying the former site of the Boardwalk hotel-casino. It was rebranded under the Waldorf Astoria name in 2018, following a $214 million purchase by Lam and the Cherngs. The hotel has 389 rooms leading up to the lobby on the 23rd floor. The upper floors contain 225 condominium residences.
Source: Wikipedia
Aria Resort and Casino
Aria Resort and Casino is a luxury resort and casino, and the primary property at the CityCenter complex, located on the Las Vegas Strip in Paradise, Nevada. It is owned by The Blackstone Group and operated by MGM Resorts International.
Construction began on June 25, 2006, with a design by Pelli Clarke Pelli Architects. Aria received LEED Gold certification for its environmentally friendly design, and is the largest hotel in the world to achieve such a feat. It was also among the most technologically advanced hotels in the world at the time of its opening on December 16, 2009. It was developed as a joint venture between MGM and Dubai World, before being sold to Blackstone in 2021.
Aria's hotel includes two curvilinear glass towers, rising up to 50 stories. The hotel has 4,004 rooms and suites, and is a recipient of the AAA Five Diamond Award and a five-star rating from Forbes Travel Guide. The resort also includes the only casino at CityCenter, with 150,000 sq ft (14,000 m2) of gaming space. Other features include an 80,000 sq ft (7,400 m2) salon and spa, 500,000 sq ft (46,000 m2) of convention space, and numerous restaurants, as well as artwork and water attractions.
Source: Wikipedia
#Waldorf Astoria Las Vegas#3752 South Las Vegas Boulevard#Kohn Pedersen Fox#Aria Resort and Casino#3730 South Las Vegas Boulevard#Pelli Clarke Pelli Architects#Veer Towers#exterior#Paradise#travel#original photography#vacation#tourist attraction#landmark#summer 2022#USA#cityscape#Nevada#architecture#reflection#palm tree#street scene#night shot#detail#façade#Clark County#neon sign
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#Germany#view of Kaiser Wilhem Church before the allied bombings of 1943 from the Kurfürstendamm in Berlin#1943. [5684 × 3752]
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These Moments
I’m posting on mobile so if it’s a little weird looking, that’s why.
Pairing: Will Miller x Reader
Word count: 3752
Warnings: swearing, smut(Minors DNI), Charlie Hunnam being a menace. Fwb, unprotected p in v.
A/N: this is the first thing I’ve written and completed in… waaaaay too long. I hope you like it. Yeet.
Everyone is always going on and on about Benny Miller and what a fighter that kid is. But your gaze is firmly set on his big brother, Will. The guy who trains Benny, who gets into the ring and is just as capable. You can’t help but watch him across the gym from your position behind your desk, pressing your thighs together harder and harder with every passing moment.
It’s not as though you’ve never seen a man before, and you’re some blushing virgin school girl. You’ve had sex, and lots of it. And you know Will Miller can fuck. Why, just last week, he fucked your brains out on the floor of the ring after the gym closed. Then he walked you to your car like a gentleman.
It’s not that Will doesn’t care about you, or vise versa. But he has commitment issues from his time in the army, and you just can’t trust people. So how can you be in a relationship with someone if you can’t trust them?
Will catches your eye and a small grin tugs at his soft lips. Those lips have you sweating. Remembering the way those lips pull every sound imaginable from your sweat-slicked body; the way those lips find magical spots that make your toes curl.
Your face starts to heat at the memory and his grin widens as you flip him off and drop your gaze. Jerk.
The front door opens, stealing your attention as two regulars come in. One is tall and muscular, definitely imposing, but you know he’s just a big teddy bear who’s crazy about his wife. That’s Jim. The other is a prankster and he always manages to scare you around the gym. That’s Teddy.
“Hey, gorgeous.” Teddy says, setting his membership card on the counter. His open grin is infectious and you can’t help but smile back.
“Howdy.” You reply, scanning his card.
“It’s Friday.” He continues as you scan Jim’s card.
“All day long.” You reply sarcastically. Jim collects his card and with a wink, he heads for the locker room. Teddy doesn’t walk right off. He has been asking you out every Friday for the last six months. It doesn’t matter that you never say yes, or that you act completely uninterested-he asks without fail.
And, to be fair to him, he’s not rude or obnoxious about it. It feels more like a teasing inside joke now. He still respects your boundaries, and treats you like a lady.
“You busy tonight?” He asks, leaning over the counter to look at you closer.
“Probably not.” You reply dryly.
“Do you want to be?”
“Probably not.” You answer in the same tone. He tips his head back and laughs. “Teddy, aren’t you tired of flirting with me? It doesn’t get you anywhere.”
“Tired of flirting with such a beautiful woman?” He places a gentle finger under your chin, tilting your head up to look at him. “Never.”
Your eyes inadvertently darts over his shoulder, landing squarely on Will, glaring at Teddy. “You’re such a hopeless flirt.” You shoo his hand away.
“Only for you, doll.” He grins. He backs away, a wicked glint in his eyes. “I’ll pick you up tonight.” He calls loud enough for the whole gym to hear
You roll your eyes, flipping him off. “You’re a filthy bastard.” You reply, leaning back in your chair. You’re not worried about Teddy, he’s harmless. He’s come to your defense on more than one occasion both inside and outside of the gym. His flirting is good natured, never pushy or demanding.
But with the way Will is glaring at him, one would think Teddy just kicked his dog or something. You could go out with Teddy-you and Will aren’t serious, you have no doubt that he’s seeing other women and that doesn’t bother you. He’s an amazing guy and he should find someone who makes him happy. You’re just aware that it’s not you. But, Jesus Christ, you’ll have some fun with him until then.
Will
Will, for the majority of his life, has been pretty even-keeled. Benny, his impulsive kid brother, has him saved as ‘Steady Eddie’ in his phone. That’s what his parents always called him and Benny, that little shit, is carrying on that tradition.
And aside from the few heated PTSD moments he’s not exactly proud of, he still keeps a cool head; he’s pretty logical and there isn’t a lot he can’t handle.
That being said, seeing that jackass with a god damn man-bun touch you? Seeing him tilt your chin up to meet his gaze the way Will has done so many times? It makes his blood boil. Hearing him say he’ll pick you up for a date? He might have punched his brother harder than he should have. It’s a good thing Benny has a hard fucking head.
But what’s really got him fucked? The way you drop your gaze to the desk, laughing. He didn’t even know you liked guys like that: man-bun pretty boys who work out for the aesthetic of it.
While he’s busy paying attention to you, Benny gets his revenge and punches Will back squarely on the jaw. It rocks him back against the ropes and he can’t even be pissed-it’s a good hit.
Determined to not lose focus again, he turns his back on you, planning on discussing this with you later. Do you want to stop sleeping together? Are you finally ready to find someone?
You’ve always been crystal clear about not wanting a partner. You claim you value your independence too much, but Will likes to think he knows you a little better than that. Someone hurt you. He doesn’t know who-your family and past is a complete mystery to him. And if you two are just fucking, Will supposes he doesn’t need to know more.
Benny finally calls it quits. Will has gotten out of the ring after the punch so he could comment and critique his younger brother. Ben is exhausted, he can tell that much just by looking at him. He should have called it earlier, but he was lost in his head.
“Go home, kid. Get some rest.” Will says, holding open the ropes for him to crawl out.
“Want me to give Teddy a solid thump on my way out for you?” Ben teases.
Will, caught off guard, can barely respond. “What are you talking about?”
“Him taking your girl out.”
Will squints at him. “Do you have a concussion? Do I need to drive you home?” Will reaches for his head, but Benny swats him away with a roll of his eyes.
“That’s not the point. I’m not blind, y’know. But fine. Hide things from me.” Benny heads for the locker room and WIll glances over at reception, halfway through the first step toward you. But you’re not there anymore, someone else is manning the desk. “She’s up in her office, you dingus.”
Will follows the gesture and sees the light on up there. Even better. He heads up there, hoping to at least catch you for a chat.
He pauses in the doorway, watching you read over something on your tablet. You’re entirely focused, a little pinch between your eyebrows that he loves has to smooth out occasionally. He must make a sound or maybe you can just feel him staring at you, because you look up.
***
You can feel the bluest pair of eyes on you, boring through your skull. Finally, unable to stand it, you look up from the article in front of you, entirely unsurprised to see Will taking up the whole doorway.
“Headed out for the day?” You ask, closing your tablet and setting it down.
“Benny is.” He says evenly, and you nod.
“He looks good. You’ll have him ready in no time.”
“Yup.” He agrees simply and you frown.
“That’s all I get? What’s with you? Normally, you’re happy to talk strategy until my ears fall off. And all I get today is ‘yup’?” You make a face.
He doesn’t answer, at least, not right away. He steps into your office, looking at all the pictures on the wall. There are a couple of you and him together, Benny’s fights, fooling around with your new camera after fooling around that one time. He’s seen them all a million times, so why is he studying them now.
Abruptly, he turns to you. “Are you bored of me?” He asks and you can’t smother the absurd chuckle that bubbles out of you. When he doesn’t laugh in return, you frown.
“Oh-you’re serious.” You realize. “Miller, what in the world makes you think I’m bored of you?” You ask with a huff.
“I dunno. I was standing right there and you were flirting with… what’s his name? Man-Bun.” He waves his hand.
Your forehead wrinkles as you try to comprehend. “You mean Teddy?” You ask.
“Sure.” He shrugs and you grin. Will isn’t the type of guy to wallow in self pity. But here he is, in your office, looking for all the world like a lost little bunny.
You push yourself to your feet, taking the two steps to be directly in front of him. “You jealous, Miller?” You grin wider.
“Don’t be fucking stupid.” He snaps, but he won’t’ meet your eyes.
You place your whole hand dead center of his chest, your grin spreading so much your cheeks hurt. “Let me tell you about Man-Bun-Teddy.” You offer, guiding him backward to your couch slowly.
“Don’t really care.” He pretends. It’s cute.
“Every Friday, Teddy comes in here and asks me out.” You say, your voice soft, a whisper in the silence of your office. His knees buckle and then give out against the low edge of your couch.
The softest groan escapes him as he lands. “I don’t-“
“And every Friday, I tell him no.” You straddle his muscular thighs, leaving plenty of space between your bodies.
“And every Friday, he says ‘I’ll pick you up tonight.’” You lean in close, fingernails scraping at the nape of his neck. “I don’t fuck him.” You whisper. “Not the way I fuck you.” Your hand slips down between your bodies and into the band of his sweatpants. He’s got you all dizzy, light headed, desperate to feel him inside you.
“Never?” He manages to rasp out. Your hand wraps around his hardening cock. Christ, that beautiful cock.
“Never. He’s never tasted me,” you nip at his neck gently. “He’s never been inside me,” you continue, kissing down his neck. “He’s never felt me cumming around his cock,” you tease, gripping and stroking his shaft lazily; a soft little twist on the return, just the way he craves it. His lip catches between his teeth as you nip at his collarbone.
Your breath comes out as a desperate rush as you feel him stiffen in your hand. “Love the way you feel under me, Miller.” You moan quietly.
“Darlin’,” He groans, gripping your hips, trying to regain control of himself. But that isn’t what you want. You want him to lose some of that carefully constructed control. You want him to be a little rough and leave bruises on you in the shape of his fingerprints on your thighs. You crave the way he clings to you in these secret, stolen moments.
He twists his head, capturing your lips against his, cupping your face and kissing you harshly. His lips, his tongue, god, that fucking mouth making you weak. It steals the air from your lungs and you feel weightless and heavy all at the same time. He rasps out your name roughly against your lips before delving back into a frenzied kiss.
His hands pull at the hem of your shirt, tugging it off, the only second he’s willing to break away from your mouth. His fingers trace up your spine, sending goosebumps across your exposed, heated flesh. With experienced deft fingers, he unclasps your bra, breaking away to watch as he slides the straps down your bare shoulders. One shoulder at a time followed by soft kisses to your skin following the path.
His touches are different from his kisses today. Kissing him is frenzied and urgent, but his touches are slow, savoring. He’s enjoying watching the effect he’s having on you right now.
He removes your hand from his pants and you miss the feel of him, heavy and hard in your palm. Tossing your bra to the side, his fingers blaze trails down your arms to your wrists. His eyes are roaming over your skin, an appreciative smile on his handsome face.
He guides your hands up to the wall behind his head. “Hands on the wall, sweetheart.” His voice is rough, raspy; deeper than usual. “That’s a good girl. Keep them there for me.” He praises and you fucking melt. He guides your chest closer to his face and you arch your back, rolling your hips teasing yourself, but also desperate for any kind of friction on your cunt.
His tongue darts out to flick against your nipple, his big hands hot on your bare back. He wraps his lips around it, teasing it with the tip of his tongue as you continue to roll your hips but you’re not getting anything you need.
He slides a hand up into your hair, gripping the elastic holder and tugs on it, pulling it from your hair so your locks fall forward. You look down at him, his blue eyes twinkling as he bites down lightly on your nipple. Keeping eye contact, he bites a little harder, stopping only when you gasp, lips parting, and he soothes it with the flat of his tongue. He gathers your hair into one fist and pulls it back so you’re arched even more against his mouth. He slips two fingers around the crotch of your little shorts and panties, pulling it up through your folds and against your clit.
“Come on, darlin’. Use me to get yourself off.” He encourages, letting your nipple go for just a second to encourage you. He presses his thumb against where your clit will be and you start grinding your hips faster, chasing that perfect friction. His mouth returns to your nipple, sucking and nibbling it, adding to your mounting pleasure. You can’t see him, your head forced backward to stare at the ceiling as he torments your body.
“Come on, pretty girl. Show me how much you wanna cum. Show me how wet this pretty cunt can get.” He urges, pulling a little harder on your shorts. You whine, riding faster and faster, you’re so close, Christ, having him under you is so heady. He leaves hickies across your chest, teasing between your nipples, letting you grind yourself against his hand. He bites your nipple again, catching your clit just right and your body locks up, cumming, clenching around nothing, eyes squeezing shut as you ride out your release. Your hips slow and he lets go of your hair, sliding them back to your waist.
It isn’t until you look back down at him, panting slightly, that he speaks again. “There’s my pretty girl.” He praises. You surge forward, kissing him eagerly, pulling at his shirt. He wraps his arms around you, leaning forward for you to pull it free of the couch. Peppering kisses along your skin until he can sit back and you pull it off completely.
His body is a work of art, muscles moving and sliding under tan skin. You shift backward, dragging your fingertips down his abs as you slide off his lap. You kneel between his thighs, pulling on his sweat pants until he relents and lifts his hips. You pull them down to reveal his throbbing, beautiful cock, hard and waiting for you to take it into your mouth.
Will’s beautiful blue eyes are blown wide, watching as you lift his cock, kissing the tip before stroking your tongue slowly along the underside and back up. He moans softly at your teasing. You wrap your lips around the head, sealing it inside and a quiet hiss escapes him and then you start to slide it deeper into your mouth, creating an impossible suction along the sensitive skin.
“Hands up here.” He instructs. “Want to be the one giving you pleasure today.” He orders, trapping your hands flat on his strong thighs. He watches as you bob your head deeper and deeper on his shaft. Your tongue dances along it, stroking and massaging as you suck his cock. Another moan escapes him and you double your efforts. His hips lift to meet you and you roll your hips, wishing you had something between your thighs to grind on.
“So good, darlin’. So good.” He bucks his hips up repeatedly and the quick succession makes you gag but you love it.
You pull off, drool stringing from your mouth to his beautiful, glistening cock. He tugs on your wrists, urging you to your feet.
“Need you wrapped around me.” He mumbles. You start to slide off your shorts but he shakes his head. “Leave them on. Like the way they look.” He adjusts his lap and helps you straddle him. He holds his cock up right and guides you down onto it.
God, the stretch. The burn. You crave it every time. The way he fills you to the brim. You tip your head back, swiveling your hips to sink lower. He utters a low curse, gripping your thighs as you work him inside you. You hold onto his shoulders as you start to lift yourself off him and then drop back down.
You moan deeply, needing more. You pick up the pace and before you can even think it, you’re riding him fast and deep. Each downstroke sees a roll of your hips, tugging on his cock, gripping him inside you.
“H-hands on the wall.” He instructs and you lean forward, bracing against the wall, and that changes the angle of him inside you. You’re close to seeing stars and you ride him faster and faster. “Christ.” He groans, lifting your hips when he feels you slowing down. He lifts you slightly and then fucks up into you faster than you could move. You whine and gasp, trying to keep your noises down because of the open gym below you. “J-just like that.” He moans, licking a stripe up between your breasts.
It pushes you over the edge and you drop down, muscles tensing as you cum hard. He supports your body, fucking you through it.
When you can move again, he lifts you off him. “Bend over your desk.” He orders and there’s something about his tone that makes your pussy drool. It’s authoritative, possessive.
On shaky legs, you walk over behind your desk and bend over it, gripping the edge and spreading your legs. He kneels behind you, burying his face in your cunt hungrily. Your clit is his main focus, sucking, licking, flicking, biting until you’re trembling and cumming on his face, clinging to your desk for support as he eats you to a wild orgasm.
“Bet Man-Bun never did that.” He mutters, standing back up and lining his cock up with your entrance.
“Who?” You mumble, breathing hard.
He grabs your hips as an anchor spot and thrusts deep. You cry out, clenching around him desperately. He starts a deep, harsh pace, fucking you harder and faster. His fingers dig into your hips as he palms your ass, his breathing just as ragged. “That’s it. Good girl. Let the whole fucking gym know I’m fucking this sweet cunt in your office.” He grunts, leaning down over you and pressing you into the surface off your desk. He’s impossibly deep inside you, driving you crazy as he rocks deeper and deeper. Each thrust sends his balls slapping against your clit as he steadily fucks you.
Tears slip out of your eyes as he makes you delirious with sheer pleasure. You can’t breathe, but if it means he stays just like this; on top of you, fucking you stupid, then you don’t need to breathe. He presses his mouth against your cheek, a hand around your throat, holding your back against his big broad chest. He’s whispering something, it takes you a long second to process it.
“Just like that, baby. Fuck, you feel amazing. Make me wanna fuck you every time I see you. Gotta have my cock in this sweet cunt every day.” He slips a hand between your body and the desk, finding your clit and strumming it furiously under your shorts. Your legs give out as you cum again, squeezing his cock as you try and fail to support your body. It’s all being held up by the desk now.
“That’s it. Cum on my cock. Gonna make me fill you up today.” He growls and Jesus Christ, you cling to the desk, cumming again, legs shaking, crying all out now. “One more, be a good girl for me. One more and then I’ll be nice to you.” He pants. You whimper under him, only able to take what he’s giving you. He nudges your ankles further, strumming your clit as he fucks you into the desk. You reach back, clinging to his hand and he squeezes it tightly, thrusting completely inside you, cumming up against your tunnel’s end, fingering your clit to one final orgasm. He presses his lips to your temple as he rocks back inside once, twice, thrice, four more times as you start to come down, lying boneless on your desk. He stays there until he softens and slips out of you.
He takes a long second to compose himself, looking at you on your desk, unwilling to move even a little bit. He lifts you gently and carries you over to your couch.
“Did you fall asleep on me?” He asks and you shake your head.
“Absolutely not.” You look over at him, naked in all his glory in the middle of your office.
“Wanna order Chinese?” He asks, settling himself between your thighs.
“Yeah. I’m starving.”
“Can’t imagine why.” He grins, ordering food first before lying himself between your thighs and tracing your clit with his nose.
“What are you doing?” You ask warily.
“Eating this pussy until our food gets here. And then probably again afterward.” He says, a wicked grin tugging at his lips. “I haven’t made you cum nearly enough.”
Shit.
Part Two
#mermaidxatxheart-writes#romance#triple frontier#triple frontier au#triple frontier fanfic#triple frontier fanfiction#triple frontier fic#will ironhead miller#will miller x reader#will miller#charlie hunnam
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𝙉𝙤𝙩 𝙖 𝙡𝙤𝙩, 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧
Glenn rhee x reader
Word count:3752
Warninig: fluff, dead, blood
Pt2 , Pt3
You ran as fast as your legs would allow, stumbling up the stairs while trying not to fall. Behind you, the growls and gasps of the creatures—those who were once your neighbors—roared loudly, almost deafeningly. The upper floors offered no solace; the walls were splattered with blood, silent witnesses to a recent massacre. The air was thick, heavy with death and despair, and each step brought you closer to the unknown, to a possible trap or, perhaps, an unlikely salvation.
By the time you reached the fifth floor, the situation had become even more macabre. Two of those monsters, turned into insatiable predators, were devouring the mangled body of someone you had likely known in life. Horror gripped you; a scream formed in your throat, but you stifled it by covering your mouth with a trembling hand. You knew that the slightest noise could condemn you. There was no time for mourning or compassion. There was only one mission: survival.
Desperately, you looked around for an escape. The growls were getting closer. With no other options, you slipped into an apartment with an ajar door. Once inside, you moved cautiously, your hands gripping the small knife you carried, a pitiful defense but at least something to make you feel somewhat protected.
The living room showed no obvious signs of violence, except for some bloodstains that extended into the bathroom. You took a deep breath and headed for the kitchen, your heart pounding in your chest, searching for anything that might be useful. After a few minutes, you had gathered a small stash: cans of food, soda crackers, snacks, and water. It wasn't much, but it could make the difference between life and death. As you rummaged through the drawers for something more useful, a particular sound startled you.
The sharp cry of a baby broke the silence, coming from one of the rooms at the back. You stood still for a moment, trying to convince yourself that you had imagined it, but the crying persisted. You knew ignoring it wasn't an option. With hesitant steps, you moved towards the source of the sound, stopping in front of a door decorated with a small heart-shaped sign bearing the name "Alice." You pushed the door gently, revealing a pink-painted nursery, filled with drawings and toys scattered on the floor.
In the center of the room stood a white crib, and there, wrapped in blankets, a baby cried inconsolably. Her little face was reddened from the effort of crying, seeking attention, company... protection.
"Damn it," you whispered, this time with more resignation than fear. You looked around, hoping that at any moment someone—perhaps the baby's mother—would come running through the door. But no one came. Anxiety gripped your chest. You knew leaving little Alice there was a certain death sentence. The baby's cries already resonated as an open call to the monsters prowling the building.
With no other options, you took the baby in your arms. Her crying was desperate and incessant, and each passing second made you imagine that the things outside were drawing closer, attracted by the noise. As you rocked her gently back and forth, her sobs began to calm. Her tiny hands clung tightly to your shirt, and gradually, the crying turned into soft whimpers until, finally, it ceased. You sighed with relief, but the tension didn't fully dissipate. Every second was crucial.
You left the room with stealthy steps, Alice wrapped in your arms. The silence of the apartment was oppressive, and the feeling of being watched never left you. Keeping your gaze upwards, you walked down the hallway, vainly searching for any sign of life in the other rooms. But there was nothing. The place seemed deserted.
The bathroom, however, caught your attention. The door was locked, but through the gap beneath it, a faint beam of light filtered in. Something or someone was on the other side. You approached cautiously and pressed your ear against the wood, and horror overwhelmed you. A low, menacing growl resonated from inside, followed by a rasping sound: claws scratching the door.
You instinctively recoiled, fear freezing your blood. Whatever was trapped inside was not human. There was no doubt. Those creatures had reached this place, and surely whoever was locked in there would find a way out soon.
You quickly considered your options, aware that you couldn’t stay. The building was no longer safe, and probably neither was the city. Chaos was spreading like an uncontrollable fire. There was no alternative but to flee before nightfall made the streets even more dangerous. The creatures became more active at dusk, and the cover of darkness would only increase their numbers.
With trembling hands, you found a larger bag and filled it with essentials: supplies, some clean clothes, and everything you might need to care for your new companion, Alice. You fashioned an improvised sling and secured her gently against your chest. Her calm breathing contrasted with your own racing heart.
Leaving the building was easier than you had imagined. The creatures were scattered, hunting on other floors or in the streets. Moving with stealth and determination, you made your way to your car, parked not far from the main entrance. With Alice secured to your chest, you quickly got in and started the engine.
Three weeks had passed since you left the city. Those days felt like an endless nightmare. The first two weeks had been particularly exhausting: the roads were blocked with abandoned cars and wandering corpses, and you had no choice but to continue on foot. You walked through forests, taking shortcuts when you could, though it only heightened your paranoia. The constant crunching of leaves under your feet, the distant sounds of the infected, and the ever-present danger of being surprised kept you on high alert.
Dealing with Alice was another challenge. The baby cried incessantly, her relentless hunger forcing you to stop more often than you would have liked. Sometimes, you could only pray to find a safe place to rest. Sleeping was not an easy option; every nighttime noise, every shadow moving in the dark, was a potential threat.
As you pressed on, the physical and mental exhaustion began to take its toll. You wondered how much longer you could keep going. Alice needed more than you could offer alone. However, as if some higher power had heard your silent pleas, things changed the day you encountered the group.
It happened while you were exploring an abandoned house, desperate for food or diapers for Alice. Hunger and exhaustion were becoming unbearable, and each step felt like a burden. Entering a dusty room, the air thick with humidity and mildew, you were struck by the emptiness. The weight of reality hit you hard: there was nothing. You leaned against the wall for a moment, struggling against despair.
That’s when you saw him: a rugged man with a face hardened by life, holding a crossbow with an unsettling firmness. You had no idea how long he had been there, watching you. Instinctively, you stepped back, raising your hands in a gesture of surrender. The cold steel of his gaze pierced through you, and fear took hold. You were cornered, unsure if this encounter would mean the end.
The man did not lower his weapon but took a step closer, studying your every move. “Are you from the city?” he asked in a deep, authoritative voice. His tone made it clear that he was used to taking control of situations. His eyes quickly scanned the space behind you, as if expecting someone else to emerge from behind you. But he saw nothing.
The lump in your throat made it hard to speak, and for a moment, you thought your legs might give way. You could only nod, hoping it would be enough to placate him. The man kept his gaze fixed on you, evaluating, measuring every detail.
“Are you alone, or is there someone else with you?” he asked again, not softening his tone. Before you could answer, a second man appeared in the room. He was younger, with Asian features, and seemed to be with the first, as the latter showed no surprise upon seeing him. The younger man carried another weapon, though his posture
“There’s no one with me,” you managed to say, your voice trembling as you tried to stay calm. But at that moment, you felt Alice shift in the carrier, as if she was about to wake up. The faint movement of the baby immediately caught both men’s attention.
The younger Asian man slowly lowered his weapon, his expression softening as he assessed the situation. There was something in his gaze, perhaps empathy, or maybe just exhaustion. The crossbow man, however, did not immediately change his expression. His eyes dropped to the small bundle against your chest, and for a moment, the tension in the room became unbearable.
“Is that… a baby?” the young man murmured, incredulous. It seemed he hadn’t seen something so small and delicate in a long time.
You nodded once more, unconsciously tightening your hold on Alice, trying to protect her as best as you could. “Yes… it’s just her and me,” you replied with more confidence than you actually felt.
“What’s your name?” asked the young Asian man, his voice softer than the armed man’s.
“My name is Y/N, and she is Alice,” you answered, feeling a slight calm beginning to settle inside you. You gently stroked Alice’s back, trying to keep her calm. Still, you couldn’t ignore the discomfort caused by the young man’s continuous gaze.
“I’m Glenn, and this is Daryl,” Glenn introduced himself, taking a step toward you and extending a friendly hand. Although you appreciated the gesture, you opted to keep your distance, your survival instinct still on high alert. Glenn noticed your hesitation and lowered his hand, not offended but maintaining his friendly tone.
Daryl, however, had not entirely lowered his guard. His crossbow was still ready, though now aimed at the ground. The tension in his jaw and the coldness in his eyes kept you on edge. The air felt dense, heavy, as if something could go wrong at any moment.
Glenn placed a firm but calm hand on Daryl’s shoulder, trying to ease the situation. “Calm down, she’s not a threat. Look at her, she’s alone with a baby. Let her breathe.” His conciliatory tone managed to soften Daryl’s stance a bit.
Daryl exhaled slowly and finally lowered the crossbow completely, though not without issuing one last warning. “Alright. But I recommend you get out of here before nightfall. It’s not safe to be out in the woods at this hour, especially with a child.” His tone made it clear that he was giving advice rather than making a threat.
You nodded quickly, aware that you didn’t have many options left. The sun was beginning to set, and although you had survived until now, you knew you couldn’t keep going alone for much longer. The city had been hell, and now the forest was proving to be just as dangerous.
“Listen, Y/N,” Glenn interrupted, his voice much softer, almost a whisper. “We have a camp not too far from here. It’s not much, but it’s well-protected, and we have supplies.” His eyes, which had been cautious before, now reflected something more. Empathy, perhaps. “You don’t have to keep wandering alone. You could stay with us. Alice would be safer there.”
His words resonated in your mind. The offer seemed too good to be true, but desperation was beginning to take over. You glanced at Alice, feeling her small, warm, and vulnerable body against yours, and realized you could no longer afford to keep testing your luck. The walkers outside would show no mercy, and you knew you’d soon run out of strength.
“I don’t want to cause any trouble,” you said, unsure. Although Glenn’s offer seemed sincere, something inside you still doubted. You had seen the worst of people in recent days, and distrust had become second nature.
“You won’t be a problem,” Glenn replied with a kind smile. “There are more people at the camp, and we’re all in this together. We can’t promise you an easy life, but we can offer you safety and some peace. At least, for a while.”
You looked at Daryl, searching for any sign that the proposal was genuine, but his expression remained impassive, as hard as a rock. However, by not objecting to Glenn’s offer, he seemed to be giving his tacit consent.
Finally, you nodded, letting a little relief seep into your thoughts. “Alright. I’ll go with you.”
After what felt like hours of walking, you finally descended a hill and before you was a scene that, in another time, would have been a mundane sight: an improvised camp with cars and a trailer. However, now, amidst the chaos, it represented a refuge, a possibility of rest, and perhaps, safety.
Glenn turned to you, noticing your exhaustion. “We’re almost there. It’s better than being out there, believe me.” He smiled, a mix of relief and concern in his gaze. Daryl, for his part, kept his distance, still vigilant with his crossbow ready, though he had stopped aiming it directly at you. He seemed to trust Glenn more than the situation.
As you emerged from the dense forest, the camp Glenn had mentioned became visible through the trees. With each step, your legs felt heavier, and the sweltering heat made sweat trickle down your forehead and body. Glenn briefly stopped to check that you were still following, offering a supportive smile, while Daryl, in his own way, stayed alert, his crossbow always at the ready.
Finally, you reached a small clearing in the forest and turned left. That’s when you saw it: the camp. Just as Glenn had said, there was a trailer blocking a slope, and next to it, a smoldering campfire. Near the campfire, a picnic table and several chairs formed an improvised circle. A bit farther away, several tents were grouped around a small path cutting through the vegetation. The place looked humble but safe.
You had taken only a few steps when a burly man with an expression of both alertness and distrust approached quickly. “What’s going on, Glenn?” he asked in a deep, firm voice. He was Shane, who seemed to be leading the group at that moment.
Glenn raised a hand to calm him. “Everything’s fine, Shane. She’s from the city. She’s alone… and has a baby.”
Shane cast a quick glance at Alice, his expression softening slightly before turning back to you. “Alone, you say?”
“Yes, we checked,” Daryl interjected, finally lowering the crossbow but not taking his analytical gaze off you.
“Well, it’s better to talk to the rest,” Shane said in a less aggressive but still firm tone. “Lori and Carol are with the kids; maybe they can help with the baby.”
You observed several people engaged in various activities. Two blonde women, one clearly older than the other, were sitting and cleaning what you assumed were freshly caught fish. Further along, a dark-skinned woman was resting next to a burly man with a serious expression, who was relaxing in one of the chairs near the campfire. On top of the trailer, an older man with a fishing hat kept a calm watch from his position, holding a rifle firmly, as if he might need it at any moment. To your right, you noticed a Latino man and another taller man wearing a cap, checking a couple of cars.
Glenn, who stayed by your side, gave you a reassuring glance before speaking. “Come on, I’ll introduce you to the group.” He took a few steps forward, guiding you toward a pair of women sitting at an old picnic table.
“Hi, girls,” Glenn greeted with his usual friendly tone. “I want to introduce you to Y/N.” He made a hand gesture indicating for you to come closer.
The tall woman with brown hair, holding her son on her lap, looked up with a warm smile. “Hello,” she said as she stood up kindly. “I’m Lori, and this is my son, Carl.” She extended a friendly hand towards you, her smile genuine, as if trying to offer you some of the peace you were missing at that moment. You shook her hand in return.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.
Glenn then turned to the woman next to her, who had a more reserved appearance but a calm presence. “And these are Carol and her daughter, Sophia,” Glenn continued, pointing to the little blonde girl playing with a rag doll.
Carol looked up with a discreet but warm smile. “Nice to meet you, Y/N,” she said softly, while Sophia looked at you with shyness, hugging her doll a bit tighter.
Lori noticed the small sleeping bundle in your arms, and her face softened even more. “Is that… your baby?” she asked delicately, as if trying not to invade your personal space.
The question gave you a pang in your chest, and you felt a brief wave of sadness. You shook your head slowly, looking at Alice with tenderness. “No… I’m not her mother.” The words came out in a whisper laden with sorrow, reminding you of how much Alice had lost in such a short time. “Her parents… are gone.”
Lori didn’t press further or ask more questions, understanding the pain implicit in your answer. She simply nodded with a slight smile that aimed to be comforting. “She’s very cute,” she commented gently. “You’re lucky to have her with you.”
After a brief silence, Glenn took charge of the situation again, now that everyone had been introduced. “Well, let’s see if we can find a place for you.” He gestured for you to follow him, leading you to the area where the tents were set up.
Walking together along the path between the tents, Glenn gave you a smile. “You know, we don’t usually get many visitors. I think Daryl thought you were here to steal our fish,” he joked, raising an eyebrow with a small laugh.
You returned the smile, grateful for the attempt to ease the tension. “Well, if I ever get to that point, you’ll know I’m desperate.”
Glenn chuckled and nodded. “You’re right, I wouldn’t mind if it’s for survival. Although, in that case, I’d offer you one myself. I work hard to keep us stocked,” he said with a wink.
As you arrived at a small cleared area, Glenn stopped in front of his tent. “We don’t have a tent for you yet, but you can use mine until we sort something out. Don’t worry, I can sleep in the trailer, there’s enough space,” he offered without hesitation.
You gave him an incredulous look, grateful but also a bit embarrassed. “Are you sure? I don’t want to impose.”
Glenn made a casual gesture with his hand. “Don’t worry, I’ve slept in worse places than the backseat of a car. Besides, how often in life can you say you were a gentleman and offered your tent to a lady?”
You smiled, feeling a bit more relaxed with his sense of humor. “Well, I guess I’m lucky to have met a gentleman in these times.”
Glenn returned the smile, apparently pleased that his joke helped you feel more comfortable. “You know, if you need anything else, don’t hesitate to ask. We’re a small community, but we take care of each other. And now that you and Alice are here, that includes you two as well.”
You felt deeply grateful for his kindness, something that already felt rare in such a shattered world. “Thank you, Glenn. It really means a lot.”
You entered the tent, grateful for the brief moment of tranquility. You knelt on the ground, observing what was in the small space: a sleeping bag, a backpack, and a couple of neatly folded clothes on one side. It was simple but cozy, and at that moment, you realized how exhausted you were. You sighed as you unfastened the harness holding Alice and gently placed her on the floor so she could move and stretch.
The baby, always restless, took advantage of her freedom and began to crawl around the small space. Despite the circumstances, seeing her curiosity about the world brought a small smile to your face. “You really need a good bath,” you commented softly, as if the little girl could understand your words. Alice, of course, simply looked at you with those lively eyes, emitting a babble as she smiled, completely oblivious to the harshness of the outside world.
With a clumsy but determined movement, Alice crawled back to you, raising her little arms as if wanting to be picked up. “Again?” you murmured, lifting the little one and holding her against your chest. “I’ve spoiled you too much, haven’t I?” you said with a slight laugh, as Alice rested her head on your shoulder, her small body immediately relaxing in your arms.
You gently stroked her back, feeling her breathing calm and steady. The need to protect her enveloped you strongly, like a silent promise you had made without even realizing it. This new place, this camp full of strangers, represented a risk, yes, but also an opportunity. An opportunity to find a respite, at least for a while, so that both of you could regain your strength.
Maybe it wasn’t so bad after all. Despite the initial distrust and the evident dangers of the outside world, these people seemed, at least, more human than what you had encountered before. Glenn had been kind, and the others had shown no signs of rejection. There was a certain sense of community in the camp, a spark of hope that seemed hard to find in these times.
#the walking dead#writers on tumblr#glenn rhee x reader#glenn rhee#carl grimes#rick grimes#daryl dixon#maggie rhee#one shot#fluff#negan smith#lori grimes#for you#baby#rosita espinosa#twd daryl#twd negan#twd x reader#twd rick#twd#twd daryl dixon#twd glenn#carol peletier#michonne grimes#rick x michonne#twdedit#twd carl#twd carol#twd cast#twd headcanons
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Car Removals South Morang 3752 #South Morang #3752 #Victoria #Australia https://www.cardismantlers.com.au/south-morang/
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are elites’ masks affected by their ID? like will an elite always spawn with a specific mask, or is it random
ID : 3733 (elite)
ID : 3752 (elite)
ID : 3763 (elite)
blatantly taking this opportunity to elitepost but yeah, they are! each scav has one preset mask type they'll always spawn with. dunno why, probably because they "respawn" every cycle and the mask is arguably one of their most definitive traits
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Work Jitters
[Gideon Graves x Female!Reader]
Synopsis: Getting the job at Graves Industries was hard enough, but keeping it? That was a whole new ballpark.
WC: 3752
Category: Slight Hurt, Slight Fluff (?), Gideon being… Gideon {TW—Vomiting}.
Jason Schwartzman, my beloved.
『••✎••』
Gideon Graves, that smug bastard.
You'd seen his picture in the paper once, or maybe more than once; you couldn't recall exactly. The article was about his company, about how he'd been awarded several "big brain" awards in the past three years, and about how his company was looking to hire the best and brightest. The article even said how much he valued diversity.
But then, why was he working so hard to keep you from the job?
It wasn't as though you were the most unqualified person in the world to be hired at G-Man Media. You'd worked in tech for a number of years. You'd worked hard. You were smart, and you had experience. But apparently, Gideon Graves had a way of making things difficult for you. He was looking for people who were more than qualified.
"But I'm plenty qualified," you'd told him, practically stomping your foot. "And you can't make me feel like I'm not qualified. You don't have that kind of power."
You'd watched in utter amazement as he'd waved his hand dismissively at you.
"Power?" He laughed, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "I have no power over you. I have influence. I can make life difficult for you, but it's not as though I'm doing that. You've simply failed to impress me."
Your cheeks burned as you tried to think of something clever to say to that, but there was no way to deny his words.
He didn't even sound angry. He sounded so sure of himself, so absolutely positive of his own superiority. And he'd been so smug about the whole thing, too. Like you were a piece of trash, he'd just found on the street.
And that had just pissed you off so badly. You were usually a fairly even-tempered person. But when you'd walked away from that meeting, you'd felt like you were about to burst out of your skin. You'd marched straight back to your car and driven to a nearby grocery store parking lot. You'd climbed out of the car and put your hands on the hood, pressing your forehead against the warm metal, letting yourself take a few deep breaths to try to calm yourself down.
And that was how you'd met Gideon Graves…
Your boss.
Yes, boss. Despite the fact that he openly admitted his dislike for you, you decided that he was wrong, so wrong, in fact, that you stormed up to him the next day and told him so.
"I'm not failing to impress you," you told him, "You’re failing to impress me.”
You'd watched him fold his arms over his chest and scowl at you. You'd wanted to bite your tongue. He'd had an intense scowl.
But you hadn't bitten your tongue. Instead, you'd done something even more stupid.
"I know how to work a computer," you snapped.
That wasn’t as hard-hitting as you'd intended; it was honestly the stupidest thing you have ever said, but it made that tiny corner of Gideon's lip turn up. Not his usual, knowing smirk, but an actual genuine smile.
"Oh?" he said, leaning back in his chair, tilting his head back and studying you, his eyes narrowed. "That’s one impressive skill set."
Sarcasm. You could deal with sarcasm. You'd dealt with sarcasm in college. Sarcasm was almost your best friend at this point.
"I'm a quick learner," you told him, "and I can work anything with a keyboard."
He laughed again, his smile growing. You were starting to think he just smiled when he was mocking people, but there had been times when his smiles had seemed more genuine, and this one had definitely felt genuine.
"I'm sure you are," he told you, and you felt yourself smile just a little bit when he didn't say it in a mocking tone. "But there's a little more to the job than that."
"I can do the job."
His eyes narrowed, and you were pretty sure he was trying to decide if he wanted to fight you. He leaned forward, placing his arms on the desk.
"What makes you think that you have any chance of winning this position? I told you once, and I’m telling you twice. You're not all that impressive."
"No," you agreed, "not compared to you. You're an idiot savant—a genius with a cocky attitude. But the company isn't looking for an idiot. They want someone with ambition. And I have it. I'm not giving up."
"No?"
"No."
He sat back in his seat, leaning back in his chair, a little smug smile curling his lips.
He was deep in contemplation. His eyes were on you. His face was an inscrutable mask, but his eyes. Those eyes of his. You felt as though he could see straight through you. He had seen you and known, without having to be told, that you weren't like the rest of his previous employees. That you were determined and that he wasn't going to be able to stop you.
He might not like you, but he recognized that you were going to keep trying to get the job and that you were probably the only person in the world who wasn't intimidated by his smug attitude.
"You have balls," he said.
"Thank you."
"No," he said with a frown, "that wasn't a compliment."
He shook his head and held out his hand. You glanced at it and then back at his face.
"A deal," he told you. "One week. You go to work, and you try your damnedest to impress me. Fail, and you’re gone. Pass, and you'll get the job. Deal?"
Your smile was wide, and you reached out and took his hand, giving it a shake.
"Deal," you said.
And here you were, nearly two weeks later, still with the job. You were honestly so impressed with yourself.
It wasn't always easy; Gideon Graves could be a real bastard. But he was an interesting person. He always looked so sure of himself, but there were moments where you could see his doubts. You could see them on the rare occasions when he was surprised or flustered. His confidence was sometimes only a mask for the uncertainty underneath.
He was an enigma to you.
You tried to learn as much about him as possible. You absolutely hated his attitude, but you were more than willing to admit to yourself that you were genuinely curious about the man. There was just something about him that made him fascinating to you. You wanted to know what was going on inside that complicated head of his.
So, you watched.
You watched as he ate lunch. You saw how he would never take more than two bites and would only take the smallest possible amount of time to eat. He never left a single crumb on the table, never let anything get near him that might leave even the tiniest bit of food on his clothes.
You saw how he would do his own filing and paperwork. He could type up a report in no time at all. And you could swear you'd seen him go through a pile of paperwork and not so much as lose his place once. You'd tried to copy his speed a few times, but your fingers were just too clumsy. You were nowhere near his skill level.
You watched how he handled people. He was arrogant, and he had his share of asshole moments, but he was always polite. Always professional. Even if the person he was speaking to was an idiot, he still managed to maintain his composure. Sure, he belittled them, but he did so in a way that was still professional. He never made any comment that would get him sued.
He never let his composure slip, except for one time, and It was all your fault.
You felt sick. You had woken up that morning with a headache and a body that felt like lead. It had taken you forever to get out of bed. By the time you had gotten yourself together and had managed to drag yourself to the shower, you'd felt even worse. But, with how Gideon acted, you were used to getting your work done regardless of how you were feeling, so you'd gotten dressed and headed to the office.
A total of four hours later, you were starting to regret not staying home.
You were doing your best to keep your eyes open, but you just couldn't stay awake. Your mind felt fuzzy. Your body was like a heavyweight. And all you could think about was going back to your apartment and crawling into bed. You could feel your body leaning forward.
The chair tipped, and your body rolled forward, nearly falling out of the chair, only stopping when you hit the edge of the desk.
And then there were hands on you.
Gideon's hands.
He had you, his arm under your shoulders, holding you against him as he straightened the chair.
"Office. Now. Before you hurt yourself," he said, his voice cold, his expression hard.
You stood up, but your head spun. You might have been able to fight it if he had actually helped you to your feet, but instead, he let go of you, watching with a frown as you wobbled back and forth before turning around and starting for the office.
Your feet felt heavy. Your body felt as though it was moving in slow motion. You stumbled a few times before making it into the room. He came in after you, closing the door behind him. You saw him scowl at you before walking to his desk. He leaned against it and crossed his arms over his chest, glaring at you.
"So much for impressing me."
"Sorry," you said, slumping in the chair across from his desk. You could feel your eyes drifting closed. You couldn't help it, but you knew it was because you were so tired.
"I pay you to get your work done, not to go to sleep on the job. I don't care how sick you are. This is unacceptable."
You wanted to tell him you were sorry, but your mouth wouldn't move. You were just too tired.
"Do I have to drag you out of this chair myself?"
You managed to open your eyes and look up at him. You tried to say something, but all that came out was a mumble.
He frowned, his lips a tight line. He pushed off of the desk, and then he was moving towards you. Your stomach lurched as he reached down, grabbing hold of your arm and pulling you up. Your legs wobbled underneath you. His hand was at your elbow.
"Careful," he said, keeping his grip on you until you had straightened up. "You took this job knowing that it would require effort. I will not have you losing sight of what you're doing because you're too lazy to get out of bed in the morning."
"I-”
Then, the worst thing imaginable happened. Just as he was threatening to fire you, your stomach lurched again. But instead of it just being your stomach, this time, it was the entire digestive system as a whole.
It wasn’t until his release on your arm, the wave of nausea subsiding and your head spinning so hard that you could barely stand, that you realized what had happened.
You just puked all over your boss.
You looked at him in horror. His white suit and red shirt were completely covered in a disgusting mix of stomach fluids and coffee. This was where you saw him break. His normal, professional demeanor vanished, and his eyes grew wide, his jaw-dropping.
For a moment, you thought he might say something. But then his eyes narrowed, and his expression hardened, his lips pursing together. He was shaking from head to toe. You couldn't tell if he was angry or if he was disgusted.
"Out," he hissed, his voice quiet but venomous.
"I'm so sorry-"
"Get the hell out.”
You nodded and quickly did as you were told.
Great, not only did you ruin a suit that was probably worth more than your apartment, but you managed to piss off Gideon and get yourself fired. The job you fought so hard for was just thrown out the window in an instant. You didn't blame him. If you were him, you would have fired you too.
It was a long drive home. You were still feeling sick to your stomach, but now it became more like the feeling of a hangover than actual illness. Your headache had subsided a bit, but you felt achy all over.
You pulled up in front of your apartment complex and climbed out of the car, feeling like you were made of lead. You stood there for a moment, leaning against your car, waiting for the feeling of your body to return to normal. When it finally did, you headed inside and took a quick shower before crawling into bed, not even bothering with any dinner.
Your last thought was how Gideon Graves had looked when he realized you had puked on him. You wondered if he was okay. You tried not to think about it, but his expression kept coming back to mind, over and over. He'd looked like he'd been about to explode.
Again, understandably so. But even though you'd done your best to forget it, the memory just wouldn't leave your mind.
The incident became a week’s memory, but you still couldn't stop thinking about him, about his face. About the fact that you lost your job over something so stupid.
It was another week before you saw Gideon again. Honestly, you weren’t expecting it.
Your doorbell rang, and you figured it was the pizza guy since it was just after five o'clock, and you had ordered some dinner. But when you went to the door, there was no pizza guy. Instead, there was Gideon Graves leaning against the door frame, his arms crossed over his chest, glaring at you.
You glanced at him for a moment, your heart pounding in your chest, your cheeks burning, and then looked back down at your feet.
"I'm sorry," you said.
"Don’t apologize. I don’t want your apologies.” He looked around, glancing at your apartment. "Are you going to let me in, or are you just going to keep standing there until you decide to ruin my suit again?"
You blinked, looking back at his face, but his expression hadn't changed.
You moved aside, letting him in. He walked past you and stood in your living room. His eyes darted around, and you could tell he was taking it all in. You had a tiny apartment, but it was nice; you'd worked hard to make it so. You had a nice couch, a few bookshelves, a TV, and a small table and chairs in the kitchen area.
"Well?" He said, turning back to look at you.
"I- What?” You asked, not knowing what to say.
"I’ve called you. No responses. I came to your apartment last week. No answer. And now that I'm here, you're standing there, looking like an idiot when I expected a fully functioning human being."
You blinked a few times, still not entirely sure what was going on. You cleared your throat.
"What do you want?"
“What do I want?” He scoffed. His face twisted into a look of disgust, his eyes narrowing at you, and his upper lip curling just the tiniest bit as though he smelled something rotten. "You ruined my suit, and then you left. You don't answer your phone when I call. Did your uncultured brain forget about the job you practically begged me for? I told you to impress me, but if you can't even be bothered to show up, I have no interest in continuing your employment."
You frowned, your jaw dropping open.
"Wait, I’m not already fired?”
His eyes snapped up to your face, his brow furrowing. His lip twitched as he fought to hold back whatever he wanted to say to you. The long pause had your mind shifting attention to him. The way he looked. The way he smelled. You took a small step forward.
"I... I thought-"
He was wearing a suit, like usual, but instead of the white suit with the red shirt, he wore a dark gray suit with a light blue shirt. The shirt wasn't buttoned all the way. He hadn't worn a tie, but he usually always had one, so you were a little shocked when you saw that he didn't have one.
And his hair. His hair wasn't slicked back the way it usually was. Instead, it was loose. It's not quite messy, but it's not perfect either.
"You thought you'd been fired?" he said, snapping you out of your thoughts.
You nodded.
He sighed and then shook his head. His hands made their way to his glasses, and you realized that his eyes had been fixed on the ground this whole time. He was staring at the floor like he couldn't even look at you.
"I would never fire someone for… puking on me. I’m not that cruel," he muttered. He turned his eyes on you, his fingers adjusting the frames of his glasses. "No. You're still employed here. I simply came to inform you that I'm willing to overlook this week, but the next one that you miss, you're fired."
"Oh," you said. “I- Thank you."
"Don't thank me."
He was turning to leave, and you had to wonder why he had come here in the first place.
"Gideon?"
He paused, his back still to you.
"What did you think I was doing?"
You could see him stiffen, and you had no doubt that he was clenching his jaw. But after a moment, he turned back to look at you, his eyes meeting yours, and you noticed that he had stopped chewing his gum.
"If I had to guess," he said, his tone sharp, "I would have assumed that you were either sleeping or still sick. I told you I would have you fired if you were too sick to work. The fact that you didn't even bother to respond to my calls and messages was more than enough for me to assume the latter."
“But you didn’t fire me."
He narrowed his eyes. "If you don't feel well enough, I suggest you stay home. I don't want to deal with your incompetence right now."
He started to leave again.
"Wait!" You called after him.
He stopped again and looked back over his shoulder at you. His expression was dark and foreboding.
"Do you... Do you need anything?"
"Need? What could you possibly-"
You interrupted him, cutting him off before he could say anything rude or condescending.
"I'm sorry I puked on you. I really am. If I had the money for another suit, I would replace it, but I… don't have that kind of money."
"It’s not ruined. I shipped it to be dry cleaned." He sighed, rolling his eyes. "I don’t want or need your apologies, nor do I need your money. It's not worth a thousand dollars."
"Well, what do you need?"
He was silent, turning his eyes on the floor again, his fingers fussing with his glasses again. His brow was furrowed, and you could see that he was struggling with something.
"Gideon?"
"Stop saying my name like that," he snapped.
He turned around and looked at you again. You blinked in confusion, and he sighed, walking back towards you until he was standing in front of you.
You've forgotten, honestly, how short he was. You were used to thinking of him as this giant of a man. When he walked into a room, his presence made him seem larger than life. But now, you were able to see that he was really a bit shorter than you were. He was a bit on the skinny side, too, not muscular or anything like that. But he still had presence, even when he was being quiet when he was simply standing there looking at you, his lips pressed into a tight line.
"Why?"
You blinked again.
"Why what?"
He rolled his eyes, and his expression softened for a moment, just for a moment, before he got angry again.
"You're not supposed to sound so concerned about me. It's insulting. I'm your boss. I shouldn't need anything from you. That's why."
"It’s just a favor… If it will keep you from firing me, I'll do it," you said.
“Just show me you're not incompetent," he snapped, "that you can do your job without having a meltdown over it."
"Okay."
"And quit making me repeat myself. Just show me. I want you to show me that you're going to be an asset to this company."
"I will."
His lips pressed into a thin line, and he was silent for a moment, his eyes searching your face. He sighed again, his shoulders relaxing as he did so.
"I need-"
"Yeah?"
His eyes narrowed.
"Are you going to interrupt me every time I tell you something?"
"Yes," you said.
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, but he didn't yell at you. Gideon just sighed, looking tired all of a sudden, like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders.
"I need you to come in tomorrow. I have some… matters I need to attend to, so you need to handle the rest of the work."
"Okay. Can I ask what’s going on?"
His eyes narrowed again, his lips pursing, and you felt like you might have pushed too far, but you were determined to be better.
"Just show up tomorrow," he said, his voice a bit softer. He sounded less angry.
He turned again and headed back for your front door.
"Gideon?"
"What?" He asked, not looking at you as he turned around, his hand reaching for the knob.
"Thanks… for not firing me."
He looked up at you, meeting your eyes, and you were surprised to see that he was smiling again, albeit a tiny little smile, but he was smiling.
"Don't thank me; just get it together," he said, and he pulled open your door and left, shutting it behind him.
And you were left there, staring at your front door, wondering how the hell you were going to be able to do the work that he was going to give you and where exactly that damn pizza was.
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