#but i need paying work and a vehicle and a lot of shit has to happen SOON. i'm so stressed lmfao.... | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

freedomfireflies · 2 years ago

Text

SnakeBite*

Summary: The third part to 404*

The one where Harry is good for more than a good time.

But he's still good at that, too.

Word Count: 5.2k

*Contains Mature and Explicit content! Please only consume what you feel comfortable with!💞You are so much more important!*

“Oh, come on…please. Please, don’t do this. Not right now. Not today…please.”

With a deep breath, you stick the key back into the ignition and try again. Waiting anxiously for the sound of the engine roaring to life. A sound you desperately need to hear more than anything.

Instead, all that follows is that familiar clunking of something heavy before there’s a rather shrill buzzing you can’t quite place.

Fuck.

Exasperated and woefully defeated, you take the key back out, groan, and drop your forehead onto the steering wheel. “This is not happening.”

Truth be told, you should have seen this coming. This isn’t the first time your poor car has made this unsettling noise, and perhaps it’s your fault for ignoring it for so long. You hadn’t meant to; you just didn’t realize it was this bad. Or that your car was this old.

Now, you’re trapped in the Juno Incorporated parking lot on a Friday afternoon with no way of getting you or your car home.

“The fuck is wrong with you?”

You don’t even bother to lift your head as Harry’s voice carries in through the window. “Nothing. Go away.”

You hear the sound of his boots scraping across the concrete before they stop, and you feel a large shadow fall over your side of the vehicle. “Can I assume that god awful noise came from this hunk of shit you call a car?”

Leaning back, you huff as you look over. “I’m sorry, do you want something?”

Harry smirks, arms crossing over his chest as he juts his chin toward you. “Pop the hood, let me see.”

“Yeah…no.”

“Come on,” he pushes, a few curls dancing across his forehead from a soft gust of wind. You realize he looks different outside of the lab. Normal, almost. It’s unsettling. “You wanna leave, don’t you?”

“Yeah, but knowing you, you’d probably cut my breaks.”

“If I were gonna take you out, I would have done it by now.”

“Oh. Wow. You’re really instilling me with a lot of confidence, thanks.”

He steps back and motions toward the front of your car. “Fucking relax, Tinkerbell, and just pop the goddamn hood.”

Regretfully, you do as instructed before leaning out the open window to watch him walk toward your engine. “Do you even know what you’re doing?”

“I know enough,” he replies, using the back of his hand to push on his glasses before bending down.

“That…is not helpful.”

“Well, I’m your only shot. Everyone else is gone.”

“I can call a repair guy.”

He shakes his head once. “Won’t get here in time. It’s rush hour on a Friday. You’ll be here for hours if they even show at all. And chances are, they won’t be able to schedule you in till next week. So, unless you’re planning to sleep here, in your car, can you please shut the fuck up, and let me focus?”

You feel your expression morph into a scowl as you unclick your seatbelt and step out. “I’d rather sleep in my car than trust you to fix my engine.”

You notice his eyes roll, but he’s amused. “Well, I can’t fix it. Not here. I think it’s your spark plugs. They tend to wear out faster in older cars. You’ll probably have to get them replaced.”

Scurrying to stand beside him, you glance over your engine and the internal workings of the car with a heavy sigh.

“You’re kidding,” you mumble beneath another strained groan. “And let me guess, it’s gonna be expensive.”

“Probably,” he agrees, glancing over. “But it’s not like you can’t afford it.”

Your eyes narrow. “I know I can afford it, I just don’t like dropping thousands of dollars on something so dumb.”

“Spark plugs aren’t dumb,” he retorts while reaching for your hood to slam it shut. “You need them to fucking drive.”

“Yeah, but having to pay for a rental car, manual labor, and a tow truck is dumb,” you point out. “And this is the last thing I need right now.”

His eyebrow lifts but he doesn’t ask for elaboration. Instead, he begins to stride across the lot toward a dark, black Harley, leaving you and your crisis behind.

In turn, you reach for your cellphone to look up local tow trucks and mechanics that might be able to help you out.

To your dismay, most shops are already closed for the weekend, except for one. And after a very lengthy and frustrated discussion, you learn that they won’t be able to come by until much later tonight. Which means that all your hopes of having a nice, relaxing evening are for naught.

Once again defeated, you slump back against the side of your car and drop your head. “Well…great.”

Harry’s smirk returns as he glances over and straddles his bike. “What?”

“I’m stuck here until midnight,” you mumble, running a palm down the side of your cheek. “You were right, everyone is booked.”

“Shit,” is about all he offers while pulling his helmet over his head. “That sucks.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“Welcome.” He revs the engine, and just like that, the bike roars to life. The loud and somewhat startling sound echoing across the parking lot as you flinch.. “So, what’s the plan, Princess? You gonna call an Uber and come back later?”

“I can’t,” you shout over the noise. “I have to be here in case they come early, or they’ll leave.”

Through the open visor, you see him frown. “Ah.”

“Yeah.”

He studies you for a moment more, and you feel your skin grow warm under such a scrutinous gaze. Like he’s looking for something written between the lines of your face. “Well…make sure you lock your doors.”

“No shit.”

He smiles again before flipping the visor shut and steadying the bike with his leg. You stand back, ready to watch him speed out of the lot and onto the street, but to your surprise…he simply sits there.

In fact, a good sixty seconds pass before he suddenly slips the helmet off his head, sighs, and thrusts it toward you. “Get on.”

You blink. “What?”

“Get on the fucking bike, Tink,” he repeats. “I know a bar we can hang out in till they get here.”

“I…I just told you, I can’t leave—”

“You can see the parking lot from inside,” he interrupts. “If they show, we can just run back over.”

You step closer, drawn to his proposition, although still wildly confused. “Uh…okay. Why, though? I’m fine to just wait here.”

He looks at you, the grassy green behind his glasses somehow softer in this natural lighting. “S’not safe,” he says simply, shrugging one shoulder up. “Be better to wait somewhere public, and I don’t really want your death on my conscience.”

And you aren’t exactly sure what to say. Because you think this may be the nicest thing he’s ever done for you – even if it’s still a little odd – and you don’t want to spook him by doing the wrong thing.

But as you debate a response, he shakes the helmet at you again, rather aggressively. “Tink, get on the goddamn bike, please. I’m wasting gas here.”

With a huff, you snatch it from his hand and join him on the Harley. The helmet slips on rather easily, and once you’re sure it’s snug and secure, your eyes trail down his back, unsure of how to proceed.

You don’t exactly want to…hold him. Or touch him or straddle him. At least, not outside of the way you do in secret. In broad daylight. Where people could see.

In fact, you already feel as though you’re grinding against his ass from how small this goddamn seat is. Almost too close for comfort as you catch a subtle trace of his cologne and feel the warmth from his body.

But motorcycles don’t exactly come with seatbelts, and if he were to take a sharp corner, you might end up pancaked on the cement.

“Tinkerbell,” you suddenly hear him call over his shoulder, voice raised to carry over the growl of the engine. “Just fucking grab me, it’s fine.”

You glare at his curls, despite knowing he can’t see you. “I’m good.”

He snorts again before he’s suddenly reaching back, grabbing onto your wrists, and hoisting your arms around his middle.

You’re tugged forward, your chest pressing to his spine rather forcefully as he glances back.

“Pussy,” he murmurs, releasing the clutch until the bike jolts forward and takes off through the parking lot.

With a rather shrill squeal, you tighten your hold on his broad frame, and bury yourself between his shoulder blades. The sensation is exhilarating and frightening all in the same moment. The rush of wind, adrenaline, and the way he leans around the corner before taking off down the street.

You think you feel his chest vibrate with laughter, perhaps from the way your nails are scraping down his shirt. And despite your increasing terror, you find that you feel oddly…safe with him at the handles.

Not even two minutes later, he’s pulling into another parking spot on the other side of the street, right in front of the aforementioned bar. It’s a bar you recognize, one that a few of your other coworkers often frequent from time to time.

In fact, this is the exact same bar you and Harry first hooked up in all those months ago.

The memory makes you smile.

“What?” Harry asks as swings his leg over the side and stands up. “Why are you grinning like that?”

You quickly wipe the smirk from your face while wrestling the helmet off to hand back. “Like what? I’m just smiling, calm down.”

“I don’t like when you smile. It freaks me out.”

“You’re really rude, you know that?”

“What? I’m just being honest. You have a lot of teeth. It’s weird.”

You glower at him, swatting his chest as you brush by. “Bite me, Harold.”

“With what? Your teeth?”

You feign a snubbed gasp – to which he chuckles – before striding into the bar, leaving him to follow behind.

The large room is loud and crowded with people, the smell of alcohol and bad decisions clinging to the air. You make a beeline for the counter, exhausted and overworked and already annoyed by Harry’s future comments before he can even make them.

Like—

“Really? An appletini?”

With a deep breath, you look over while the bartender turns around to begin prepping your drink. “Yes, really. I like apples. And it’s delicious. And the color is fun.”

He rests an arm on the edge of the marble bar and leans in. “How incredibly boring of you.”

Once again, your expression falls flat. “Are you gonna be this fucking annoying the whole time? Because I’d rather wait by my car and get murdered.”

“I make no promises.”

“Clearly. And let me guess, you’re gonna order something cool and manly like a scotch on the rocks.”

Harry’s eyebrow quirks up before he smugly turns toward the bartender and calls, “I’ll have a SnakeBite.”

You can actually feel your eyes roll all the way into the back of your head. “God, you’re fucking pretentious.”

“Thank you,” he says with a smile, and you grit your teeth. “Will you relax? I haven’t even had a drink yet and you’re killing my buzz.”

“I’m not killing anything, I just can’t stand you.”

“No? Ouch. I thought we were friends.”

The sarcasm is evident, but you huff, nevertheless. “For the love of god, shut up.”

“What?” He nods his chin at you. “S’just a drink, don’t be so sensitive.”

“I’m sensitive because you’re annoying.”

“No, you’re sensitive because you’re wound up,” he retorts, eyeing you closely. It makes your skin crawl. “When’s the last time you got off, Tink?”

The inquiry makes you step back, almost as though trying to avoid his judgment. “None of your business.”

“So…couple weeks ago? In the closet, with me?” He clicks his tongue in disappointment. “That’s a long fucking time, Princess. No wonder you’re so uptight.”

Your mouth drops open, ready to scoff your resentment and perhaps a quippy remark before he suddenly steps forward and lowers his voice.

“Bet it’s achy, huh?” he coos, and the slight air condescension and sympathy makes your head spin. “Bet you hump your little pillow every night trying to get it done, yeah? But it never works, does it?”

Stunned and left without much remark, your lashes flutter.

He moves closer. “See, if we were friends…I’d offer to take you into the bathroom and help you out. But since you think you can do better…go ahead.”

He leans back while you gape at him. “I’m sorry…go ahead and do what?”

“Find someone,” he answers, glancing around the packed bar. “Take ‘em into the bathroom and let them bend you over the sink.”

“You can’t be serious—”

“Why not?” His eyebrow raises. “That’s the whole reason people come to bars. To get drunk and fuck.”

“Well…that’s not why I’m here.”

“It could be.”

“Harry…no—”

“Why? Seriously, why not? You need it.”

“I don’t…you’re so fucking rude, I don’t need to get off—”

“Coming is good for your health. And for your unfavorable attitude—”

“Oh, you are so fucking—”

“Rude? Annoying? Doesn’t make me any less right.”

You clamp your mouth shut and step closer, letting your gaze travel the expanse of his face. “Come on, Harry,” you murmur softly – salaciously – as his breath seems to catch. “Do you really think…you could watch me with some other guy?”

His expression twists, his mouth already forming around something else snappy and crude.

But it seems to get stuck on his tongue when you suddenly reach out and trail your fingers down his chest. Moving in until there’s only a single breath between you.

“Do you really think…you could watch me touch them?” you whisper, glancing down to your hand as it grazes over his pec. “Or know that they had me dripping down their cock…the way I always drip for you?”

He wants to fight you. Wants to snort and look away.

But he doesn’t. He can’t. He’s mesmerized by the power you so easily stole from him. Undone by the sound of your voice taunting him with an idea he can’t seem to stomach.

“Wanna know I’m whimpering their name the way I always whimper yours?” you continue, smoothing your other palm up the back of his neck. Squeezing just hard enough to make him straighten up. “Wanna see the marks on my throat from where they held me—”

“Easy,” he warns lowly, reaching up to snatch your wrist. But he doesn’t move you. “Not here—”

“Why?” You push up onto your tiptoes and let your lips ghost over his. “Who’s gonna see, hm? Who’s gonna care?”

His lashes flutter, eyes traveling down to your mouth. “Are you this desperate for it, Princess? Wanna fuck me right here in the middle of the bar? Make them watch?”

You smile, head tilting until the tip of your nose dances across his cheek. “Maybe,” you nearly purr. “Bet you like to be watched. You always like watching me.”

And maybe he knows you’re merely playing a game. Teasing him just to throw him off track and test his patience.

But he plays along, eager to see where it might lead. “Can’t help it,” he replies calmly, smirking himself. “Y’just always look so pretty when you’re three fingers deep in your cunt.”

“Yeah?” Your nails scratch at the soft curls near the nape of his neck. “Funny how I can make myself squirt better than you can.”

He exhales a rather sadistic chuckle while his arm reaches to loop around your waist, pulling your chest flush with his. “I wasn’t trying to make you squirt.”

“No?”

His head shakes once. “No. Trust me, Tink. If I wanted to…I would.”

“Then maybe you should.”

His lips part just enough to tease you with a taste. “Maybe I will.”

“Yeah? Right here? In front of everybody?”

Another grin. “I could. Be so fucking easy, too. Bend you over the bar, pull your soaked little panties down…spread you open so they can see how much of a dirty little cumslut you are.”

And perhaps this started as a ruse, but just the thought and the tantalizing way he speaks breeds a new inspiration.

“Cause you are, aren’t you?” he asks quietly, large hand pressing hard against your spine. “My dirty, fucking Princess? Get all wet and weepy from just a couple words?”

You swallow a whimper trying desperately to come free.

“Should I check?” he whispers, now subtly moving you over until your back meets the counter. “Hm? See if you’re as wound up as I think you are?”

You rifle through your list of responses but find that you have none to offer as his fingers delicately begin to trace the edge of your jeans. Provoking you further.

You reckon you should probably stop him. Point out what an idiotic idea this is and remind him that he’s still very much in public, surrounded by people.

But his body blocks you from most of the crowd, and nobody else is close enough to notice. And you suppose that even if they did look over, they wouldn’t exactly be able to see or understand.

His eyes flick to yours, looking for hesitation. But when he finds none, the corner of his mouth twitches up into a pleased smile.

“Dirty Princess,” he teases, sliding his hand into your pants as subtly as he can while you quickly glance around for prying eyes. “That’s right, Tink. Look at them.”

The feel of his cold fingers against your warm skin is like ecstasy, sending a rush of adrenaline straight down to your toes.

You gasp quietly to mask a whine, vision going hazy as you watch him study you.

“Oh, sweetie,” he tsks, smoothing his touch through your folds. Spreading and stroking as you reel. “Poor fucking thing. Did’ya get yourself all wet for me?”

“No,” you manage to reply, heart hammering against your rib cage when he smirks. “I was watching TikTok’s of Andrew Garfield earlier. This is for him.”

“Ah,” he hums, but he’s wildly amused, hand still cupping you gently before he swiftly pulls out and leaves you to wilt. “Well, in that case…”

He steps away, fingers tucked between his lips as he pretends to turn around.

However, before he can get far, you manage to capture a fistful of his shirt and yank him back to you.

And you kiss him. Without reluctance or fear. You kiss him, and you sigh against his mouth, and swallow his surprised but greedy moan.

His hands are on your hips, squeezing and pulling, desperate to tug you further into his frame.

You go willingly, becoming pliable in his hands. A few people cheer from beside you, raising their glasses and whistling like drunken animals.

But it makes you both smile, suddenly unencumbered by the ideas of what people might think or who might see.

And it’s strange to feel so at peace in his arms. Unnatural almost to find relief in his lips or safety in his presence. Because this is still the same Harry that would let you drown before he jumped in after you. That would rather tell you off than tell you he likes you – even as an acquaintance.

You’re not enemies, per se. You imagine you’re both too old for such childish rivalries. But he’s cruel and rude and blunt. His ego rivals the size of the moon, and his lack of care and inhibitions is proof that he could never be who you’d need him to be.

But that’s okay, you realize. You find serenity in the sadistic, strange behavior. Because it means you don’t have to commit to giving him anything more than what he deserves.

His tongue leaves a quick lick to yours before he pulls back and studies you from behind the dark frames of his glasses. “I need to fuck you.”

And you almost laugh at the frank way he speaks. “Yeah?”

“Yes.” His palm slides over the curve of your ass, squeezing it one, twice, three times. “Meet me in the bathroom.”

“Ew, no. I’m not fucking you in a crusty ass bathroom in a sketchy bar,” you retaliate with a scrunch of your nose. “Pick somewhere else.”

“There isn’t anywhere else,” he huffs. “Unless you really do want me to fuck right here in front of everybody.”

“That’s not funny.”

“M’not trying to be funny. I’m trying to fuck you.”

“Well…try harder.”

His eyes narrow. “Fine, you wanna fuck me on my bike?”

You blink. “Okay, that’s really not funny.”

“What?” He’s grinning again, and you hate the way his dimples pop out. Hate how charming they make him look. “Come on, I ride the bike, you ride me.”

You snort as you turn around to take a sip of your drink. “I’d rather get herpes.”

“Wow. Classy. Real fucking classy—”

“Admit it, you’ve had it before—”

“Oh, fuck you—”

“Well, you can’t. Remember?”

He scoffs. “Then where the fuck do you want to go?”

“I don’t know. Literally anywhere else?”

“Well, I’m not taking you back to mine.”

“No? You don’t want me to see the bridge you live under?”

“Troll jokes. Funny.”

“Thank you, I thought so. It’s very fitting.”

His expression falls flat before he sighs and steps closer again. “Meet me in the fucking bathroom,” he repeats quietly, “and let me fuck you. Let me make it better.”

You want to remind him – again – that a dirty bathroom in a crowded bar isn’t exactly the best place. You’d never get a moment of privacy, and the position would most likely be wildly uncomfortable.

But suddenly, none of your reasons seem to matter. Because it hurts to be away from him. Actually aches between your thighs, forcing you to swallow thickly.

So, instead of responding with an actual answer, you simply take his hand, and drag him through the crowd.

You catch his smug smile – and resist the urge to slap the glasses off his face – before yanking him into the hall and toward the bathroom.

You both stumble through the door, already back on each other’s lips. Kissing, and groping, and groaning as you work to get the lock flipped.

You pause for only a moment to make sure the single stall restroom is in fact empty while Harry uses this as encouragement to begin nipping down the side of your neck.

Your nails scratch down his scalp and he moans against the heat of your skin, exhaling his relief and lust all in the same breath.

His touch is firm – pointed and almost painful – as he pushes you back toward the wall. You gasp when you meet the cold, hard cement, lashes fluttering from the force and the sound of his belt coming undone.

He nods his chin at you, entertained by your fascination. “Come on, Princess. You’ve seen my cock before.”

“Just shut up and fuck me,” you murmur, swallowing thickly when he pulls himself out. “Before I change my mind and find somebody else."

He scoffs with a smile. “I’d like to see you try.”

He gives himself a few pumps, growing harder in his palm before he lets go and moves his attention to your jeans. He’s got them down your legs and pooled around your ankles in under thirty seconds flat, your panties soon following suit.

But he teases you for just a moment. Because of course he does, the sadistic fucker. Needing to hear you beg for him before he actually gives you what you both want.

“Harry,” you huff, glancing down as he presses a kiss to the inside of your thigh. “We don’t have time, and the floor is dirty. Just do it.”

“Just do it? How romantic,” he snorts before obliging and straightening back up. “Thought girls liked foreplay.”

“We do, but not in gross, dirty bathrooms.”

“Fine. Next time.”

And for some reason, the casual way he refers to the future makes your head spin. You always assume the two of you will continue from time to time. But hearing him promise to take care of you again…

It’s almost…nice?

Pushing the thought aside, you begin to turn around, hands pressing into the wall to brace yourself in preparation for what comes next.

But just as you’re getting comfortable, he suddenly grabs onto your hips, and spins you forward once again.

“No,” he murmurs softly, pretty green eyes trailing down your face. “No, I wanna see you this time.”

“Oh,” you whisper, skin growing hot as he steps between your legs. “Okay…?”

He grins lightly before reaching up to trail his thumb along your bottom lip. “I like watching you get all sappy when I fuck you. The way you grin when it feels good.”

Suddenly, your pulse starts to stagger. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I like your smile.”

You suck in quiet breath. “I thought it creeped you out. That I had too many teeth.”

He chuckles to himself before taking hold of his cock and bringing it closer, trailing it between your legs. “You do. But that’s what makes you so beautiful.”

You think he must be out of his mind. Lost on the idea of sex and pleasure and SnakeBite’s. Tipsy and not all there. Because the Harry you know would never say something like that to you.

But you suppose you don’t really know Harry at all.

With that final thought, he hoists your leg over his hip, and begins to push in. It’s slow at first. You’re tense from the surroundings, from the loud sounds of the bar just on the other side of the wall, and from his admission.

But he loves it, cursing through gritted teeth before surging forward to kiss you. “Tink, you gotta fucking relax. Y’know I can’t do it if you don’t let me in.”

“Try…trying,” you pant, head falling back against the wall with a thud. “Sorry. Just go.”

He frowns, eyes rolling as his glasses begin to slip down the bridge of his nose. “M’not gonna go if you’re not stretched, Princess. I’m not trying to hurt you—”

“I don’t care,” you argue with a soft whine. “Really, I don’t care. Just go. Make it hurt.”

He releases your leg to slip his fingers just below your jaw, forcing your eyes on him. “Stop. M’not gonna do that, just relax.”

“I’m trying—”

“Try harder,” he murmurs, kissing the side of your mouth. “Come on, sweetie. Know you can do it. Know you always take me so well, don’t you?”

You nod fervently. “Yes…yeah, yes—”

“Then take me,” he whispers, his free fingers finding your clit. He rubs, and presses, and pinches until he feels you begin to unwind. “There you go…there she is, that’s my girl. S’better, isn’t it? Yeah? Gonna let me in now?”

You can’t exactly speak, already lost in the pleasure and the fullness his thick cock provides as it pushes past your walls and settles nearly in your belly.

The sound you make is depraved and eager, and it makes him smile. “That good, huh? So fucking cute how cockdrunk you get.”

“Shut…up,” you huff before reaching for his hair. “Faster.”

“Faster,” he repeats to himself, hips pulling back just to snap forward. “Always want it fast, don’t you? Never want me to take my time.”

“Cause I don’t want your dick in me longer than it needs to be,” you retort, but you both know that’s not true. “Fucking hurry—”

With a sharp and sudden thrust, he changes the pace. Obeying your command for fast and hard as your bodies shake with pleasure and force.

And you imagine it should feel quite strange to be so enamored by one man – one cock. But here you are, panting, and gasping, and whimpering as he fucks you against this bathroom wall. Ignoring the pounding of the fists against the door from people wanting to be let in.

He kisses you. Kisses all of you. Your lips, your cheek, your chin, your nose, your jaw, your neck, your collarbone. Tugs on your skin with his teeth before flattening his tongue against the tortured flesh.

His hand dances underneath your shirt. Palm smoothing up your stomach and over the cup of your bra. Slipping just far enough inside to knead you in his grasp. Make you whimper and push closer.

And he’s so warm. All of him is warm and soft and strong. He smells like mahogany and sex, and he feels like ecstasy.

You love his hands. The veins in his arms, the bulge of his muscles. The tan of his skin and the way he holds you.

He might be infuriating, but my god is he fun to look at.

“Fucking shit,” he snaps, readjusting his angle to make sure he’s fucking into you just right. “So fucking good, Tink. You’re shaking, sweetie. You close already?”

You can’t respond with words, instead clenching around him in an effort to prove his point.

He smirks, quickly reaching up to push his glasses back into place. “Good. Want you to come all over my cock, baby. Want you to soak me. Can y’do that for me, Princess? Can you soak my cock?”

You think you know what he means, but truth be told, you aren’t sure if you can. You’ve only done it twice before – by your own hand, not his – and you wonder if you’d even be able to like this.

But the question is answered for you when he moves just enough to find that sweet, spongy spot that unravels you faster than lightning.

He hits it over and over and over – perhaps without even realizing – and when you suddenly begin to cry out his name…he understands.

He watches as it happens, aiding in your pleasure by spitting on his fingers and bringing them down to your clit.

The ministrations are ruthless and beautiful, and it almost distracts you from the gushing between your legs, and the way you soak his thighs.

“Shit,” you think you hear him groan, his eyes nearly rolling back in his head. “So fucking good, Tink. Yeah, just like that. That’s good, baby, keep going. Give me all of it. Fucking all of it, sweetie, yeah.”

And just before you can go sliding down the wall out of pure exhaustion…he follows. Pressing his chest into yours to keep you upright as he spills inside your pussy, creating a bigger mess than before.

Everything is wet and sticky and warm. He’s breathing into your neck, holding onto your body so tight, you imagine you’ll see memories of him tomorrow.

And you stay, just for a moment. Learning how to take in air again and waiting for the feeling to return to your muscles.

“You okay?” he finally asks, exhaling the question into the sweaty skin of your throat. “Didn’t break you, did I?”

Your smile is lazy as you shake your head. “It would take a lot more than you to break me.”

And he laughs. In the kind of way that makes you clench around him again.

Which only makes him laugh harder.

“I fucking hope so.”

Next Part:

~ Jealous*

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~ Off the Shelf*

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mediumgayitalian · 1 month ago

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this post: I NEED A SOLANGELO OFFICE AU FIC WHERE NICO IS THE CEO AND COLD AND EVERYONE HATES HIM AND WILL IS HIS ASSISTANT WHO THINKS HE'S HIT BUT STILL THINKS HE'S MEAN AND STRAIGHT BUT SOMETHING HAPPENS AND THEY GRADUALLY GROW CLOSER AND NICO STARTS WARMING UP TO HIM AND IT'S MUTUAL PINING AND UGH SOMEONE WRITE THIS PLEASE I BEG

(https://www.tumblr.com/icantspelll/782319142725369856/i-need-a-solangelo-office-au-fic-where-nico-is-the?source=share)

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oh ho ho. happy you asked. post here. excuse me as this is a little all over the place and also somehow 3500 fucking words again and also i pretty much wrote the climax scene but WHATEVER its in my head now

modern au obviously.

there is a car accident.

a big one.

lee is brain-dead. on life support, and getting constant visitation, but...yeah there's not a lot of hope there. michael is in somewhat of a halfway house, newly unable to walk, at least for now, and with a host of other symptoms that make living at home hard. he needs assisted car.

will got off relatively scot-free. he had some minor brain damage and now has a migraine disorder and a shitton of burn scars from trying to drag his brothers out of a burning vehicle before they all blew up.

him and his mother also now have a whole lot of debt.

(it does not help that michael refuses to see them...the guilt from being the driver is hard. will is devastated to have lost not one brother, but two, in some ways.)

he starts working for this medical nonprofit partially because theyre hiring (desperate for a PA bc no one will stay under nico's bitch ass long enough) and also bc he's hoping to do a little fraud and get his bills paid maybe

(theyre desperate.)

rachel hires will i think. she is nervous in the interview not in the shy way but in the oh god i cannot tell him whats actually waiting for him way. i dont want him to walk out. fuck.

i think shes the main secretary. yeah.

nico interrupts the interview to bark about needing something.

rachel is so crushed bc now this guy will never accept the position fuck.

except will takes it easy as anything -- he DID go through med school and is very used to being yelled at and treated like shit by superiors. he has also worked in service. he doesnt even blink. its about dry cleaning or some dumb shit like that, just something nico needs picked up and fast because hes already late and irritable

so wills like ive got it sir. gimme an address and ill bring it to your office. can i get you a coffee while you wait?

and his voice is light, then he raises his eyebrows, slightly, and says, same tone, but eyes a little steely, or perhaps a xanax?

and rachel CHOKES.

but nico just scowls and go coffee is fine. GOOD espresso from this specific coffee shop or im not paying for it.

so rachel is like god fuck you want the job then? and will is like yah sounds good. and hauls ass immediately to the coffee shop, which happens to be the one lou or cecil work at, and he gets special best friend privileges to skip to the front of the line and get his espresso going I GOT THE JOB OKAY LOVE YOU BYE and hauls ass to whatever errand. comes back.

and its just.

for weeks nico is increasingly more demanding and absurd, like he usually is, because PAs quit after a week. but will is NOT QUITTING. so nico is kind of taking it like a challenge to be more and more impossible but will takes everything in stride with quick attitude and no issues whatsoever.

nico asks him to do four things at once and will is like "hm impossible as i am not heracles try that one again" and nico, kind of shocked since no one has ever outright refused him before, DOES. he asks for something more reasonable

like will is SO GOOD. he knows all the medical terminology, hes fast, he knows EVERYBODY, and with him as nicos PA meetings go better?? somehow?? people are charmed by will's smile and quick wit and boy is it a break from nico's snapping.

because they like will more theyre less likely to be difficult for nico, and the actual nonprofit stuff they are trying to do gets a lot easier to do

nico would be huffy about it but like. will makes his life easier too

seems to always know when nico has a headache and when he was sick refused to let him come into the office, shoved his ass onto the subway -- where he had never been even once in his life -- and brought him back to his (penthouse.) apartment and cared for him until he passed out

they dont talk about it but its like the most caring nico has recieved in a hot minute and it def changes the vibe between them

nico is gruff but he is less abrasive. he thanks will when will does stuff for him. he actually eats when will brings his meals and cheerfully sits with him instead of scowling out the window. he even lets will coach him on being less of a jackass in meetings and (tries) to take that advice.

the office is gagged. will is EVERYTHING.

but then nico gets this -- inoccuous notification.

about a small case file being approved, money being sent somewhere.

and he frowns because...he didnt approve that.

nico may be a nightmare but he is a nightmare who CARES. he looks at every file on his desk. he remembers details for every case he can.

and he did NOT send money to this particular care facility. as it is usually covered by their rival company and nico knows better than to mess with that

but he looks further into it and realizes there have been a LOT of funds sent without his approval. and he realizes that the person approving them has been will.

and he is FURIOUS.

this boy he has trusted -- he has let into his HOME, he has shared meals with, he has laughed with and even shared secrets with -- is fucking with his company. and sending money to OCTAVIAN'S insurance company no less, their biggest rival.

he calls will over and fires him on the spot basically.

will cant explain himself. everything is falling apart around him. he doesnt even have the words.

hes a little heartbroken, too. because nico -- the man whom hes really starting to fall for -- calls him a fraud, and hes right.

he doesnt even pack his things. he turns around and leaves.

he doesnt cry, on the walk to the subway. even though its dark. he doesnt cry at the station. he doesnt cry on the train.

he cries a hundred yards from the lobby of his shithole apartment building, because he left the keychain his little cousin made for him on his work lanyard, now on nico's desk, and he wont ever get it back.

hes depressed as hell. he wont stay in his room, because that scares his mother, but he drags himself to michael's facility every day even though michael still wont see him and plays with the kids living there, trying not to feel too sorry for himself. and then he drags himself to lee, even though lee is fucking brain dead, and then he drags himself to whatever part time job he can find.

nico, on the other hand, is a NIGHTMARE.

will has been there long enough that everyone has kind of forgotten who he was before, but whatever he was, this version is worse. hes acerbic and sullen and fucking AWFUL. almost cruel. people come back from meetings in frustrated tears and not even rachel can stand to work with him. the atmosphere in the office is shot.

she comes to him, one late night.

i know he stole from us. and i know thats hard. but he was good, nico. he was a good person. i think you should at least find out why.

nico just ignores her. rachel sighs, and walks away. shes ready to find a new job, honestly -- she is proud of the work she is doing at this company and she has worked here so long, but this is unbearable. she cant live like this. shes not even the only one who feels this way.

one day nico sends for coffee. they still have no PA so jason volunteers to get it, and he comes back, way later than he should be, and he is bright eyed and frantic and there is a barista in tow behind him. and jason doesnt even leave the lobby he hollers for nico to get his ass over. nico does, eventually, scowling at his shouting, snapping at him what the fuck is your problem im busy and jason is like NO. no. dont talk to me like that. dont GIVE me that! you dont fucking listen. you dont listen to a single other person, nico, and that is your problem!

and nico locks his jaw and goes fine, then.

and jason falters and hes like no, no. since you know everything. go on.

and there are like.

crowds.

but jason doesnt care and nico is not looking. so jason takes a deep breath and goes firing will was wrong.

and nico goes the man who stole from us? that was wrong?

and jason steels himself and says firmly yes. did you even ask him why?

and nico says im not one to give alibis to thieves, no.

but jason scowls and goes LISTEN, you prick. listen. and he gestures to cecil, who is following the exchange with wide eyes and kind of realizing for the first time how maybe fucked his best friend is.

but if theres one thing about cecil markowitz its that he's LOYAL.

so he straightens up and gets serious and goes: how much do you know about will's car accident.

and nico blinks. and hes like. wills what.

and cecil is like. you know. the car accident that disabled him for life (migraines & brain damage) and killed his brother and got his other brother in assisted living facility. he spent like 15 hours of his day with you. im sure you talked about it.

and nico kind of pales because he is like oh no. oh god no please tell me he did not commit fraud for the most selfless possible reason and i punished him for it.

and cecils eyes kind of harden and he goes yeah. the disabilities that are invisible for him so that insurance companies refuse to help him. and the hospital that is charging him out of life and liberty to keep his brother on life support. surely you know about these things. that he is working so hard to fix. surely you are aware. and nico just quietly goes no. i didnt know.

and cecil goes did you ask?

did you ask about him, ever?

about his life?

his friends and his needs and the reason he sometimes called in because he was curled up on his bed with a pillow over his head in so much pain he can't speak? did you? ask about that?

and nico realizes that this is bigger than the fraud, maybe. this is, as cecil is implying, almost a year of constant CONSTANT effort from will; will sitting with him on long nights and helping him with hard cases and squeezing his hand as he whispers about his sister. effort that has not been funnelled back -- nico realizes he doesn't know will's legal name. he realizes he doesn't know his address. his -- fuck -- his favorite flowers, although will has brought him sunflowers -- his favorite -- on more than one occasion. so nico turns to cecil determined and is like help me fix it.

and cecil is like honestly im not sure i want you around my best friend. like to be real. he loves you and you didnt even give him a chance to defend himself.

and nico nods and hes like i know. i fucked up. i will make it up to him for the rest of my life.

so cecil begrudingly helps him and points out the flowers will likes on the walk. and they get to will's apartment and his mother answers the buzz and she softens, a little, because she can see just from how will speaks of this man that he loves him, even if he's made a mistake. so she tells him that he's with his brother. he is most days.

and cecil says well i am going to leave you to it. i -- can't go back there. lee was my friend too.

so nico swallows his pain and heads up to the local hospital. and the secretaries and nurses know will by NAME -- he may not have completed his residency but he has an MD, still. he was a prodigy, too, graduated early. he knows his shit and he knows his shit well, and while he isnt employed or anything he sure helps them a whole lot.

so nico follows their directions to lee's room and when he gets there will is --

well, will is balanced on lee's bed, tongue sticking out of his mouth, illegaly painting something on the wall. a sun, in the corner, by the looks of it. and dotted stars on the ceiling.

nico is like well i see where half the bills are coming from now. and will SHRIEKS and falls off the bed and nico catches him, barely, and smiles and says youre gonna get charged for vandalism, dumbass.

and will pulls away wide eyed and is like. nico. oh.

and it does not escape nico's notice that he puts himself between nico and his brother.

and boy does that feel like shit.

so nico sits down on the chair a fair distance from him and waits for will to sit too. and they lay there in silence for a significant chunk of time before nico is like, just straight up: im sorry. i made a mistake.

and will doesnt really look at him and is like i uh. i did technically funnel several thousand dollars from your company. you were not exactly in the wrong.

and nico shakes his head and hes like i mean more than that. i did not treat you well.

you dont treat anyone well.

no, you're -- different.

im different?

yes.

nico pauses, staring out the window.

i took advantage of you, i think.

and will doesnt really answer he just stares. and nico looks back at him finally and he has his hand brushing over lee's arm, absentmindedly, by habit pulling up his covers and brushing back his hair. he looks at nico the whole time.

and nico says i think you are a carer. most of all. you care for people. and you came to my company and i was in this dark space, that i have been in most of my life. i was used to it. and then you come in with your brightness and heat and i clung to you, even as i scorned you in the beginning, because you were the light after plato's cave, you know? it stung and i was sullen and hesitant but god for the first tme everything lit up.

and that just wasnt...thats not fair to you, i guess. i never thought about what you need. youre a person, not a bright thing. and im sorry for that.

and will goes well i was like. your hired assistant.

and he squirms and hes like and honestly you kind of helped me too.

and nico isnt quite ready to accept it. he says your friend tells me you were a doctor.

and will nods. almost.

a doctor, will. i didnt even know.

well, i dont talk about it.

will avoids his gaze and there is a beeping from lee's monitor, so he stands and fixes it with practice and ease. nico watches his shaking fingers still as they adjust his saline, like it is nothing.

i dont know -- how. my brother wont talk to me. lee is -- dead, functionally.

he chokes as he says it.

i relied on my brothers every day of my life and then i woke up one day and didnt recognise myself in the mirror and my two favorite people in the world were -- gone. i was adrift.

will shrugs.

i quit my program. i -- couldnt do it anyway, i guess, cant cut someone open with shaking hands. i just cried most days and struggled and the debt kept getting worse and i wanted to -- well. he doesnt say it but nico gets it, suddenly and horrifically -- will fiddles with the bandage always on his wrist and nico realizes what it hides, what will has tried to do.

i convinced myself i didnt have a purpose, nico. i was so sure of it. he looks to nico and his eyes are so dark in the setting sun. nico cant breathe.

but you gave me something, again. i mean, you were a piece of work and i went home and complained about you to anyone -- and i mean anyone -- who would listen --

he grins, and nico huffs a laugh, not doubting it --

-- but fuck, neeks. for the first time in too long i was me again. there was someone i could help. and -- well, not a bad someone either.

he looks down and there is a curl to his shoulders that is almost shy. nico stares at it, at the bob of his throat, and his mouth goes dry.

you're funny, even when youre being a jackass. and you care about people and you get things done and you arent bothered by my attitude.

i like it, nico admits, heart pounding. will looks at him and he flushes but pushes forward, still, forces the words out of his mouth. i like it when you push back at me. it makes me feel like a -- human, again. like someone who can be wrong instead of an untouchable entity.

will snorts. well i can most certainly promise you that you are wrong often.

nico quirks his lips. i know. i know. he breathes out, smile dropping. and i was hugely wrong, will, in casting you away. the foam of the arm rest creaks under his fingers. i -- want you back, if you want to come back.

will exhales, fingers tracing the swirls of lee's bedsheets. nico's heart sinks, and he knows what will is going to say before he says it.

i don't think i can work for you anymore, he confirms. he bites his lip. i -- it was a lot, nico.

nico nods, chest tight. i know. i totally under--

plus, there's something of a conflict of interest.

nico whips his head up. what?

will avoids his eyes, breathing quick and shallow, shoulders up to his ears. i'm. i think its frowned upon, when the PA wants to sleep with the boss. whole trope and everything.

nico feels his heart stutter. he meets will's guarded, careful eyes with his own wide ones, and stares, one minute, two, until the barely-there hope in will's eyes starts to fade, until he nods to himself.

i hope you'll still write me a reference letter, will jokes lightly. i mean, i dont see a lot of PAing in my future but --

im in love with you, nico blurts. marry me.

will freezes. uh.

i mean! i mean, fuck, im sorry, i -- nico is bright red and he feels it, and wills nervous little giggle makes it worse, fuck, what is he doing.

he exhales, long and slow. he balls his fists and lets go of the tension, like jason taught him. he meets will's eyes again, and this time his voice is steady.

not yet, he says firmly. don't marry me -- yet. but. he breathes out again. try, with me. he swallows. if you want to.

i want to, will says, softly.

we can get you back to med school, if you want. something other than surgery. people need doctors, will, you can always --

i want to.

-- any school you want, if you still need school -- do you still need school? -- ill pay for it, i can --

i want to.

-- i promise i am not hurting for money and thats what this whole organization is, isnt it, making the medical field more accessible, and --

nico.

nico freezes, gulping in a huge breath. will sets his brother's hand lovingly down and moves until he is crouching in front of nico's hyperventilating form, both hands gently squeezing his.

deep breaths, nico. follow me.

nico does, inhaling when he breathes in, huge and exaggerated, and exhaling when he breathes out. will keeps breathing with him until the shake in his chest steadies, until the bounce of his legs slows to something more normal.

ill marry you, nico, he says quietly. if you still want to marry me.

nico nods frantically. i do. gods, will, i do.

he places a hand on will's scarred cheek, and will leans into it, tired but soft, hesitant but believing.

i do.

long engagement, will says. he smiles wryly. it'll take you two years at least to make up for all the shit youve thrown at me.

nico laughs, drawing him in close. as long as you need, he promises. we'll do it your way, for this. we tend to, anyways. okay and they kiss etc etc

epilogue is as expected. they get married. will gets his residency in paediatrics and starts his own practice. he sees patients in low income high debt areas specifically and nicos company fights the shitball insurance policies for them. it takes time, but eventually they let lee pass. nico is there for the funeral, squeezing wills hand as he cries through his eulogy. michael lets his brother in, again, coming eventually to their company.

nicos new PA is an old largely-retired man who was once will's favourite prof. his work under nico is easy. his position is revered, and he has large shoes to fill.

the end.

some thoughts from my earliest stage of brainstorming before i hit my roll:

nico would be such a sullen asshole trying to scare will off like the rest of his PAs and wills stubborn ass is like well none of your other PAs were broke enough apparently because you could violate several subsequent labor laws in front of me and im not going anywhere. jackass. ill show you what it looks like to need MONEY

i think it would also b really funny if when will initially hears back from his application cecil and lou ellen are wide eyed going you cannot work for DI ANGELO. mafia man?????? will you are so mouthy you are going to end up dead and will is like bitch we cant eat im going to end up dead ANYWAY

but he is a little afraid of mafia man nico

that is what first breaks the tension. will mouths nico off and nico calls him into his office, sits him across his desk and just stares, silent and deadly. and after several minutes of squirming will snaps if youre going to get your mafia cronies to off me you should know my life insurance payout is fucking insane and that will be a hassle for you to handle

and

there will be no gentle parenting nico into manners here will brings a spray bottle 💀

"get me x and x's number now"

(spray)

"MOTHERFU" (through gritted teeth) "get me their number please"

(spray)

"WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT FROM ME."

"treat me like a person"

"...sorry. can you please get me their number."

"yes, thank you for asking."

other employees are watching in awe and fear

jason personally buys him lunch for a week

#i want to write this but mostly i want to skip past the slowburn stuff which is an issue #actually i want this to be a movie but you can see why this cannot be the case #ask #skeleton sunday #longpost #solangelo #solangelo au

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bexcookiee · 5 months ago

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All the Batkids failed their first drivers test. They all got too used to occasionally driving the Batmobile. (Whether they were allowed to or not.) They broke at least half a dozen road rules each minute in that car and all struggled to switch to legal driving.

Dick was first and he got so many lessons to correct his poor driving. After being a menace of a child and Bruce letting him get away with shit, despite all the lessons Dick just couldn’t get the “way too many” road rules to stick in his head when he would go out a break half of them once a week. He was fully angsting during this period and only tried the test a max of twice before Jason died and he took a long break. (And maybe drove a lot of vehicles illegally when he needed to, there was no proof.) When Tim came along he tried again. At this point he had (illegally) driven enough and was old enough to properly understand road rules and passed on his next shot at it.

Jason died too early to take the test as ‘Jason Todd’, he took the test once in his main civilian identity and was about a meter away from crashing before the instructor slammed the brakes. He forged the license and told everyone he only failed because he couldn’t stand the backseat driving. He has crashed many vehicles and sends any of his traffic violations to Bruce to pay (despite having crime money that could definitely cover it). Dick bails him out frequently when he gets taken in due to the sheer amount of repeat offences Jason’s racked up. (Jason getting revived legally would just mean he claimed to have taken the test and wouldn’t actually take it.) TLDR; Jason literally never gets his license but certainly failed first time ‘round.

Tim was pretty close, he didn’t sleep the night before and told everyone ‘this is how I work best’. He failed on account of accidentally speeding, max 10km/h, over the speed limit when he zoned out slightly. He failed the second time because he, again, didn’t sleep the night before and so fucked up his parking and failed to stop properly at stop signs. He got his license third try when he actually got some sleep the night prior. However no one ever wants to get into a car with him because he never actually sleeps enough for his driving to become road safe.

On Cass’ first drivers test she failed on account of ignoring road signs. After driving the Batmobile regularly using the quickest route she was used to turning left despite signs that say no left turn and honestly stop signs, what are those? Cass was begrudgingly a little more sensible than some of her siblings so she drove the Batmobile more often and instinctively broke many of these before the instructor could get a word in edgewise. Her instructor considered switching jobs after she crossed four lanes of traffic, very well mind you, when there was absolutely no reason for her to even go that way. (It was the path she always took to Arkham after a breakout. Instinct had kicked in.)

Duke failed for speeding. There were a couple other infractions but he managed to get those excused, no one really knows how. Miraculously he got his license on his second try. (He shouldn’t have, letting him on the road was a mistake.)

Damian got a bunch of lessons and tried really hard to show his siblings that he was the best of them. By the time he took the test he got all the normal stuff down and could probably drive better than Duke or Cass when he wanted to. He failed on account of accumulating too many little infractions. He was pissed. He took more lessons, like way more than he actually needed to, and also got his license second try. No believed he actually got it without threatening his instructor (he tried it the first time) legitimately and wouldn’t get in the car (civilian ids) with him behind the wheel for a good while.

#dcu #batfam #batman #dc headcanon #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #cassandra cain #duke thomas #damian wayne #the real question now is if we think bruce got his license first try #dc universe #i was on a road trip when i wrote this #batmobile

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maxwell-grant · 9 months ago

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The Penguin Ep3 - "Bliss" Breakdown

(Episode 1) (Episode 2) (Episode 4) (Episode 5) (Episode 6) (Episode 7) (Episode 8)

So that's what Victor's image in the credits was meant to represent the whole time. A still of him inside the last memory he has of his home, his perspective on the window before it all went to shit.

I get that it might have been obvious the opening was a flashback given the election was still ongoing and given we get to see Vic's friend, the one who was shot by Sofia, still alive, but they also peppered enough bits that hade me fully convinced we were just watching Victor's present life when he was out of earshot from Oz. The bombs were a genuine shocker.

Credit to @davidmann95 for pointing out that the rooftop pebbles are Victor's equivalent of the Crime Alley pearls, an extremely important detail to add to the other Batman parallels Victor's gonna be shown having in this episode.

I'm loving a lot of the choices that go into Oz's outfits and specifically what kind of outfits he wears around specific characters, the whole chameleon thing he's got going personality-wise reflective in his choice of wear, and I like how this extends to the people around him and his choice of vehicle and base and everything. He may not wear fine suits everywhere and for all occasions, but this is very much a Penguin concerned about fashion particularities and branding and ways to dress up himself and the people acting in his behalf.

This scene where Oz pays Victor is funny, but it importantly sets up an element that's gonna come into play regarding their relationship by the end of the episode, that is how hard Oz projects on Victor and how much of his insecurity and need for affection comes through in his attempts to deal with the kid. Two episodes in after all the shit Victor's done for Oz and it's the first time we're seeing Oz talk about giving him a salary. It's not an unusual comedy beat, sadly not a real life one either, but the thing is, Oz is not a cheapskate, far from it. Across the last two episodes, he's been very quick to fork over cash to smooth over negotiations, and he's more than happy to pay the kid and praise him for demanding double (even if he shuts down the idea), it just genuinely never occurred to him until the moment that, right, the kid whose job is driving me around and burying bodies and putting his neck on the line for me needs a paycheck, of course, he's gonna get a nice thousand per week because I'm a good boss who does that kind of thing.

Nice little reminder of the class disparity element of the show, in how Sofia looks at Oz's set-up and dismisses as tacky garbage, while Graciela calls it bougie and thinks Victor's basically set if his boss is letting him crash in a place like that. Also illustrated in the money scene earlier, because from what I've researched, a thousand per week is an average salary for a driver in New Jersey (which is where this Gotham is located), and despite Oz calling it a start, Victor's already shocked at how much money Oz is paying per week. Just these totally different conceptions of what money and good living entail across the board for our characters. SPEAKING OF totally different standards,

So it turns out that Sofia has been planning her own meteoric ascension into ruler of Gotham for about as long as Oz, and more effectively at that, and if there's anything this episode will establish for sure about her, it's that Sofia Falcone is an actual supervillain the way Oz is still some ways from being. Alberto's shipment wasn't the ticket for the two of them, just for Oz, and Sofia just needed him to drive her around and open the door once more.

Oz the whole time basically happy with running a club and pushing dope out of a warehouse to the point of crying to her in the end that it was the best thing that ever happened to him, while Sofia here casually unveils a Gus Fring hidden meth lab with a mushroom forest full of Arkham Super Drugs and another Batman Villain working out in the backroom to produce them. Oz spent the last years ass kissing and spinning plates and seizing his own little levers of power all over Gotham, while Sofia was enduring soul-redefining torment entrenched inside the Supervillain Factory of the world where she would discover and pillage the tool that would let her conquer the city in one swoop.

A tool that she debuts before the underworld with an intimidating yet casual speech, above the city writhing before her and falling by the minute into her grasp, before casually leaving and telling her grunt to wrap up negotiations for her. The Riddler showed Gotham what a supervillain is and can do, a call to the maladjusted victims and freaks everywhere to grab their masks and bombs and get in the action because this is how the world works now that Batman exists, but Sofia here shows us not just a different way the rot spreads across the city, not just a way in which Arkham can become the other force filling in the power vacuum, but that being a supervillain is also a business model every respectable criminal in the city is gonna have to get on board with real fucking quick.

I love/hate that we get to have a few scenes of Sofia and Oz working together and how good they are, glad they could at least give us those before everything gets turbofucked forever further.

I definitely encourage you to keep up with the Penguin podcast, and particularly the latest episode where they talk with Rhenzy Feliz and fluency consultant Marc Winski, where they go over the thought and care that went into depicting Victor's stutter and incorporating it into the character and show, it's a very insightful conversation.

Oz's empathy for people with disabilities shows up in him complaining at the waiter for speaking over Victor, and later in their scene with Johnny Viti when he berates him for calling her a psycho, and is consistent with lots of other little moments where it's come up. I like that this is a consistent thing with Oz, and not just one of the things he does for show - even when he's complaining about Sofia to Victor, he never disparages her based on mental illness, he calls her uptight and elusive and a problem he wants off his back, but he never insults her the way all the other mobsters do.

Even in the bathroom scene by the end of the episode, where he does lose his patience and rushes Victor to explain himself, only happens after they've reached a boiling point. I do think it's important, for his character and role, that Oz maintains some important principles, even if they are still self-serving.

Again, love how the show knows just when to drop the Penguin name to maximize hurt on Oz.

What a fucking show Farrell and Miloti and Feliz give us in this episode.

I said back when the trailers dropped that Sofia Falcone looked like she was going to be the prestige crime drama protagonist that this show would have if it wasn't about The Penguin, and that's the vibe you get out of these two together. She is the tormented HBO leading lady and he is the charismatic side character, he is her driver with a wacky voice and face that bites it tragically to motivate her revenge / bites it after the reveal of how he backstabbed her. Which is exactly where the Falcones liked him, that funny guy in a supporting role who drives them around and runs their club and digs up their graves, and it's partially how their last scene in the episode plays out.

"Yeah I know I ruined your entire life and led to irreparable damage to your mind and sanity and reputation and all that, but I really wanted a little piece of the action as a nightclub owner, is that so bad?" is a confession that Oz only survives because he's the main character. In any other show, him bearing the depths of his embarassing pathetic soul to Sofia like that would be the last thing he does before dying, tragically or cathartically.

But to his credit, it worked. Sofia actually sheds a tear for him. It's the first time Oz has seemed genuinely honest with her, and more importantly, it's the first time anyone has been honest with Sofia ever since she got back from Arkham. She really has no one else she can possibly trust but the least trustworthy person on the planet. Who on Earth could possibly be willing to make an ass of themselves before her like that if they weren't being truthful?

Lauren LeFranc: You know, I think Oz is a bit of a walking contradiction and I think he deeply believes what he believes in that moment. I think he genuinely feels that way. Also understands the benefit of her being on his side at the same time. Right? Like, if she doesn't believe in him, their operation currently goes to hell. Not to say that he's playing that up, I think that is a moment of genuine emotion from him. But I also think for a man like him, he's not quite sure where it begins and ends. He doesn't believe that it's bullshit. That doesn't mean that it's not. Like, I don't know if he can even identify it or if, honestly, if Oz takes the time to unpack that. He's not a guy who's like, "Hmm, let me think about my actions today.", you know? - The Penguin Podcast: Episode 3

I'm extremely curious as to what the Sofia-Oz dynamic is gonna look like in the rearview. Does he have enough of a lid on his temper to fake that masterfully being offended on Sofia's behalf while playing her attack dog? Does he genuinely regret that she got sent to Arkham over whatever he did? I think this and the ending scene go a long way in pending towards either way and that's interesting to me. Even if 90% of what he says is bullshit there's some of that regret / kinship that feels genuine

I am very curious to see what becomes of Eve and what more will we learn about her. She seems to be Oz's second-in-command when it comes to businesses he does with her and the girls, and I like that the girls and Victor form a personal squad for Oz (and crucially, he's promising all of them a bigger slice of the pie when he becomes a big shot, and just as crucially, all of them have massive targets on their back right now).

It is genuinely funny how appalled and offended Oz is, at the idea that maybe the kid he roped into this with a gun to the head only stuck around out of fear, not because the kid thinks he's a great guy giving him a chance. I call him the Michael Scott of crime and I mean it. But like most funny things about the Penguin it also has something sad and lonely and pathetic and human about it, the ever present disconnect between the gentleman he wants to be and the thug he acts like.

Like with the salary thing, it just did not cross his head at any moment prior to this, not when he threatened to kill the people he cared about or openly argued with Vic whether to shoot him and stuff him in a trunk, not when threatening to gut him like a fish for messing up or spilling his secrets or telling him to lie with corpses, that Vic was sincerely scared of him and his power and did not leave because he feared this known gangster would do exactly what he said he was going to do. To Oz, doing those things to "his guy" now would be unthinkable, but the question that Vic wanted to leave never even popped in his mind.

And it makes him genuinely upset. That scene at the bar, where he is fully alone, sad and tired with his drink, tired from all the plates he's had to spin and all the indignities he's endured and still endures, tired from all the hats he's had to wear, and sad because the only person so far he's been able to let down his guard around, the one person with whom he could at least wear a hat he liked just bailed on him.

Of course he'd never kill Vic for just wanting to leave, once he realizes that this is actually a factor in how Victor views him and obviously he'd be a bad boss if he did that. Of course he gets angry at Victor for wanting to throw away an opportunity given to him that Oz would have (and probably has) killed for, he's giving Victor the kind of help he desperately wishes he got and he's gonna throw it away? Of course he gets shocked at being reminded Victor is a guy with needs, a guy that Oz holds lethal power over, and not just a kid version of Oz that he can live out his Rex Calabrese fantasy by helping out and mentoring. And of course, none of the cruel and hurtful things he says to Victor before he leaves would sting if there wasn't just enough of a bitter truth to them, or at least, enough of it to stick with Victor.

What an excellent scene Victor's panic attack was, totally get why it was the editor's favorite

I was waiting for a Victor-centric episode and was not dissappointed, this is the episode where he first comes on his own as a character and we see how crucially important he is to the show, the from-the-bottom ground floor perspective on everything that Reeves and LeFranc have repeteadly defined the project around. I love getting to see such an on-the-ground perspective of how fucking monstrous Riddler's plan was, and the kind of lives it ruined. This poor kid thrust headfirst into a Batman/Robin origin story and situation.

It's like Feliz said in the podcast, the end of the episode is the first time we've ever seen Victor, and maybe the first time Victor's ever seen himself, outside of survival mode, outside of simply living to try and get to next hour and do what his parents/Oz tell him to, which is a painfully real state to be in for anyone who's dealt with poverty growing up or is dealing with poverty right now. It's the first time he really has an opportunity to decide on his own what he's going to do on his own. As much as we may know he's making a doomed choice, that he really should just hop on the first bus out of Gotham and join his girlfriend in the sun, well, he's a Batman character, he doesn't get to do that.

Victor wants to live his life and protect himself and the people he loves and make good choices and be a good person, but on a deep fundamental level, he just wants his family back, he wants his dad back, he wants to do right by them more so than by himself, even if that means doing things they would find detestable. Like the son of a doctor, a son who now chooses to inflict violence every night if it means he can avenge their memory, here we have the son of a nurse presented with a choice: He gets to honor the intentions of his parents by dying as a well-meaning decent nobody like they did, or he gets to make up for the shame of how they died by living a good life, one which was denied to them, by surviving and thriving as a criminal. He gets to honor their ideals, or get back at the shameful cruel reality of how they died, but he cannot do both. So he makes his choice.

Oz, in this episode, burns nearly every single bridge he has: with the Falcone family, with the Maronis, and with Sofia, and he even does it with Victor. If Victor hadn't come back, Oz would have died on that parking lot, and still Oz is ecstatic that his guy's come back, because all he wants is for someone to like him enough to stick around with him. Victor is not so sure he's not in for a horrible time now, but in his own way, he also burned his bridges, and he also got what he wanted.

Okay Vic, you wanted dad to not take shit from others and shoot for a better life, you got a dad who will teach you to do just that. You wanted to pal around with small-time criminals you were friends with even if your parents insisted otherwise, well, the king of hoodlums is the only guy you have left in your life now.

You have committed yourself body and soul to a dangerous life within the city you love, spurred on by the tragic injustice that took your parents in an event that destroyed your entire world? Great, welcome to Gotham, here's even a new name you get out of it.

#dc comics #batman #the penguin #hbo #hbo max #oswald cobblepot #oz cobb #victor aguilar #colin farrell #rhenzy feliz #sofia falcone #cristin milioti #lauren lefranc #matt reeves #the batman

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anistarrose · 1 year ago

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The thing about the Heart Attack segment in Wonderland is that they put so much aromantic subtext in it. They accidentally put SO much aromantic subtext in it, on behalf of multiple characters, and I'm thinking about it constantly. Let me tell you all about it.

Magnus is dropped into a dating game and literally leads with "I cannot stress enough how uninterested I am in this." Now, it's perfectly valid to read this as due to him waiting for Julia, or just him being plain old uncomfortable with having his love life put in the spotlight. However! I cannot stress enough the exchange that happens just a minute or two after that line:

Magnus (describing his ideal date): ... and we don't see each other again, ‘cause I'm really not interested in dating. Audience: [exaggerated] Oooooh! (cheers) Griffin: The silhouette is like, fanning itself. Lydia: Playing hard to get, huh? It seems like our contestant is into that.

And I just have to say: unfortunately, this is one of the most aromantic fucking experiences I've seen represented in fiction in my life. I mean — saying you're not interested in romance, then having those words twisted on you, like they're some secret coded way of saying that you are interested in romance? Not having a single way to express your disinterest that'll actually be believed? That's some aro shit right there. God. Fuck.

As an aside, it's enough to really tell that Heart Attack is not designed to be a reprieve from the pain, even though it's the "good outcome" of Trust or Forsake. It's designed to be uncomfortable. To funnel suffering to Edward and Lydia, just like all the other games do. (More on that later, in fact.) But in summary:

Magnus is a character who can be read as uncomfortable with romance for either aro-spec reasons or unrelated reasons. But in either case, his discomfort attracts reactions that reek of amatonormativity — and therefore, resonate with aromantic experiences. (Psst, I did recently write a gray-aro Magnus fic!)

Two more analyses below the cut (and only one of them is for another Horny Boy):

Obviously the next character I need to talk about is Merle. I've found aroallo readings of his character to be compelling for a long time (having sex with plants so you don't have to worry about romantic commitment, am I right?), but the way he describes his "ideal date" is another factor:

Merle: I volunteer to drive her vehicle, and tell her it's filthy, and so we go through the uh- drive through vehicle wash and she pays for that too. Um, and then I take her to have dinner with my family, and- Magnus: Wait, like your wife and stuff? Merle: She meets my ex-wife.

Merle's probably exaggerating as a joke, continuing on about both him and his partner being miserable, but I think the fact that Merle's mind goes here is genuinely drawing from a lot of poor romantic experiences in the past. He didn't get a choice about being on Heart Attack, and his marriage with Hecuba was similarly "arranged".

It's also worth noting that at this point in time, Merle is putting in the work to be part of Mavis and Mookie's lives again, but is not interested in doing the same for Hecuba — he instead just asks Mavis how Hecuba's doing. That said, given that Magnus is the one to put the focus on Merle's ex-wife, I think it's fair to read the "family" comment as Merle actually expressing that he'd rather spend time with his kids than give any special romantic attention to his date. Moving on to the rest of the "joke":

Merle: She's having a miserable time and she's really mad, she can't wait to get outta there. I take her back to her house, and so I lean up against the door jam and say, 'Sure you don't want me to come in for a few minutes?' and she slams the door in my face.

It's possible Merle just has a more roundabout, self-deprecating way of expressing a similar thing to what Magnus did: Merle just isn't interested in dating. To me, the last line implies he might not say no to sex, if offered — but overall, it reads as if Merle is putting minimal effort in because he's looking for an excuse to get out of this relationship anyway.

It's also possible that Merle's "rejection" of a suitor being so disguised as humor could point to him still coming to terms with his disinterest in dating. Particularly, in comparison to Magnus, who is so vocal and unashamed about it, while Merle might still be figuring this all out.

(Honestly, the self-deprecation Merle turns to here is actually kind of sad, when viewed in that light — he already lets himself be the butt of jokes so often, and now he feels like the way romance doesn't click for him has to be a joke, too? Oof. Someone give him a hug and tell him he's not broken this instant!) But regardless:

Merle views dates, and perhaps romance in general, as things that will inevitably turn disastrous for him and any party involved with him, and he would rather spend time with his children than repairing a relationship with an ex, or cultivating a relationship with a new partner. This is not an experience exclusive to the aro-spec umbrella, but you can't say that an aromantic reading of his character doesn't fit him like a gardening glove...

...which he wears while fucking his plants. Because plants don't demand emotional intimacy, nor take too much time away from the platonic relationships that matter more to him. And you know what? He's fucking valid for that! Fly your flag, nasty grandpa!

But moving on: I promised you aromantic analysis of characters outside of our protagonists, and henceforth, that analysis I will provide. And not just because I admittedly see Taako as the token alloromantic (though clearly an aro ally; if he hadn't chosen Forsake we wouldn't have gotten all this incredible characterization!)

I digress. So let's go on to addressing the lich twins in the room: Edward and Lydia.

Remember my argument earlier that Heart Attack serves the purpose of collecting suffering just like the rest of Wonderland does? How it's just a subtler way of making Wonderland's victims fundamentally uncomfortable?

...Using, of all things, romance?

How the vogue twins, for whatever reason, felt inspired to make people uncomfortable with matchmaking and adoration? How, some way or another, they noticed how much potential romance had to induce suffering? Being pressured into a relationship, being told that no matter how firmly you say you're uninterested, you're not really uninterested?

...Relatedly, I have always gotten the sense that Edward and Lydia projected relentlessly onto their victims.

Edward: This resolve, this desire to do whatever it takes no matter the cost to save yourselves — do you know who you three remind me of? Magnus: No? Merle: Who? Edward: Us!

I'm even going to go a step further and say that on top of projection, they want their victims to go through things they went through. Swallowing the guilt of having fucked someone else over to survive, of course — that's basically self-admitted. But possibly also... the feeling of not being able to get back what you lost (Keats). The feeling of not being able to heal (Keats).

So, where does that leave Heart Attack?

Lydia: It was the three of us, surviving against all odds. The world against us.

Their family of three was (is) indescribably important to them. I'm not necessarily saying that societal expectations of romance, especially of romance as a priority above that of family, left a bad taste in their mouths — if not downright contributing to their trauma — but, okay, I wrote the rest of this post and now that I'm back, I can no longer deny it. I'm definitely, absolutely saying that.

At the time of the podcast, we know Edward and Lydia's own relationship is heavily strained. Until the end, they are lying to themselves and to each other about the fact that they continue to be emotionally and magically reliant on each other. After all, Lydia wouldn't say "I guess we really needed each other after all" in her dying moments with such surprise otherwise.

This is the second reason that I... well, I wouldn't quite call it a "theory," but I find it most impactful to read Edward and Lydia as characters for whom the concept of Love has baggage. And always has, from their origins as youth in a tough spot in an already amatonormative world.

Maybe the constant societal devaluing of platonic, familial bonds left them with serious emotional scars. Maybe the constant conflation of Love and morality just weighed on them and weighed on them and weighed on them until they decided: well, we don't love the way people expect us to, so we might as well give up on being the good people they expect us to be. We might as well embrace this new fuel of suffering.

...And you know, I hope this gets across what I mean when I always say I headcanon villains as aromantic to make them more sympathetic.

Edward and Lydia, textually, are already tragic villains. As twins and liches, they're also textually foil characters to several of the Seven Birds. But I also like to think that they have a lot in common with Magnus and Merle, and the possibility that tugs at my heartstrings the most is the possibility of them all falling under the aromantic umbrella.

#taz #taz balance #taz balance spoilers #magnus burnsides #merle highchurch #vogue elves #wonderland twins #(i always forget which tag i use for them lol)#aspec taz #taz meta #happy aro week this essay is my gift to myself <2

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prettypinkporkchop · 11 months ago

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A/n: MANS IS OLDER. I do not write about underage people, period. In this story it is after breaking dawn and errthang. Imma say he's 23 in this story!

Seth clearwater x fem reader

When you know, you know

Moving to Forks was not an easy choice to make. But, leaving behind your abusive boyfriend was much needed. Of course, missing family is a price to pay. It's just the fresh start, the new scenery, and new people. You're grown now and it's time to live on your own.

You sit on your couch in your very inexpensive tiny house. You made it due! It's cute! You have your laptop on your lap, sipping your favorite beverage.

"Hello, this is y/n speaking. How may I assist you?" You answer the video call for a customer. Working from home has helped a lot! You make barely anything but just enough for you. Unfortunately, you don't have a vehicle yet, so Uber is your bestie. Some days, it's not worth the money, so you walk.

Your shift is over. It was an easy day, thank goodness. You sigh and lay down on your bed. Suddenly, there's a knock on your door. You stand up, confused. Who is here this late? I mean, who is here, period?

You slowly open the door, and there stands a cop! "Is something wrong?" You ask. He's an older man with a black mustache.

His name on his shirt says, 'Swan'.

He rubs his chin and leans on the door frame. "I got a call for a missing person. They were last seen in this area. I was wondering if you have seen him." He holds up a picture.

You scan his face, taking in every feature. "No, sir. I just moved here a couple of weeks ago. I don't know anyone. I barely leave my house." You look at him.

"Oh, yes ma'am. I'm asking everyone around. Thanks for your time. Call if you find anything." He hands you a card and walks away.

Hmm. Missing person?

The next day, you decided to hit up the beach. You take an Uber to La Push. You step out with your bag. You brought dry clothes, towels, snacks, and drinks.

"Thank you." You wave to the Uber.

You make your way on the sand and lay your blanket down. It's a pretty warm day, just very, very cloudy.

You get in the water when suddenly, there's a loud group of voices.

"Hey, pretty lady! Why don't you come here?" A man from the sand calls out to you.

You scoff and keep floating on your back. Oh, shit! Your bag!

You quickly jump up and try to move as fast as you can through the water when one of the guys grabs your bag. There are three men. As you get closer, panicking, you see their red eyes. What. The. Hell. Thinking they are contacts, you look over their faces. The man holding your bag is the missing guy!

"Put my bag down, now!" You sternly say. You are used to dealing with horrible men and having to stand up for yourself. "Ooh, here that friends? We've got a fiesty one here." He chuckles.

The other man flashes behind you. You jump and begin to believe they aren't human. He wraps a hand around your neck, holding tightly. You try to elbow him in the stomach, but he doesn't flinch.

"I want to play with you before I rip your neck apart." The man laughs. The other two nod their heads, smirking.

He holds your arms while the other guys hold each leg. You scream as loud as you can, thrashing, to no avail. They lead you into the woods and drop you on the ground. One of them picks you up and throws you back into a tree.

The wind is knocked out of you. You gasp for air and try to stand back up.

A twig snaps, causing the three men to look up. "Damn it." They start running. Loud pounding on the ground and a terrifying roar fills your ears. A gigantic wolf sprints past you, chasing the other men.

Maybe Forks was a bad idea.

"Hey, don't worry. Let me help you." A soft voice is heard beside you. You look up to see a man with a gentle smile, holding out his hand. You grab his hand so he can lift you up. But, you are stood in shock as a surge of lightening runs up your arm. He doesn't let go. You both look up to make eye contact. He stares with a look of awe. There's something going on. Whatever it is, as lana del rey says, 'when you know, you know'.

He snaps out of it, blinking rapidly, then letting go of your hand. "I-i can explain everything. Do you have time? You are safe." He reassures you and looks over you for any injuries. You feel safe.

"Yes.'' You're still in shock. "Are you familiar with the Quileute legends?" He softly touches your shoulder to turn you around, looking over your back for any injuries. "No, I'm sorry." You say weakly.

"May I, uh, lift to see your back?" He asks. You simply nod your head. Oh, yeah, you wore a tank top to swim in. He gently lifts it, and he sighs. "Okay, not too terrible."

He grabs your duffle bag, picking up everything, giving you a drink, and you guys walk. He ends up telling you about wolves and vampires. Most importantly, he imprinted on you.

Soon, you end up in his truck. "I'm going to take you home. Can you promise me you'll be safe?'' He looks at you pleadingly. "Yes, Seth." You smile at him.

Even though he is tan, you could see a red tint glow on his cheeks when you said his name.

1 month later

"C'mon, y/n! It'll be so fun!" He begs, gently pulling your arm towards your front door. "Seth, I don't know. What if your friends don't like me?" You question. He gently pulls you into his chest, looking deep into your eyes. "I like you, so they will." He smiles. You shudder at this physical and eye contact.

You guys have not kissed yet or made anything official. There's just so much tension!

You give in and sigh while smiling back at him. "Fine." You giggle.

You guys pull up to a small house in the middle of nowhere! There are so many dudes here and a few girls. Some old men, too. The young men are all shirtless. "Seth, I have to tell you something." You look away from the window and at him.

"Anything." He puts your hair behind your ear and cups your cheek.

"You know how I said I moved to Forks for personal reasons?" He nods his head. "I'm ready to tell you. I was in a very abusive relationship. I had to get away. I needed a fresh start. I grew up, and my home didn't feel like home anymore. Something pulled me here, and I'm not so sure why. But, now I know."

He has a tender look on his face. He leans in, pressing his lips to his forehead. You crumble and close your eyes, soaking in the feeling pouring into your body. "You will never be hurt again. Do you understand?" You whispers. You bite your lip and nod and then turn back to the window. He steps out of the truck and opens your door. You step out, and he instantly grabs your hand, interlocking your fingers. He walks up to the group of guys. "Sup?!" He beams.

"Oh! This is y/n, isn't it?" He reaches his hand out, "Paul." He smiles. You shake it and smile at him. "Nice to meet you." You reply. He turns to look around, "my fiance, Rachel is somewhere. She's Jacob's sister! I think he's the one that chased the vampire away from you." He awkwardly takes a bite of his steak he holds in his hand.

"Yeah, yeah! I think." You turn to Seth. He leans his head down on yours and whispers in your hair, "it's okay. You're doing perfect."

The night was so fun! You learned so much more about the tribe! Your favorite girlies are Renesme, Kim, and Emily.

Seth opens your door and walks inside with you. You turn to face him to say goodnight. Instead of words, he holds your face and gently presses his lips on yours. You're shocked but quickly deepen the feeling by kissing back. You hold on to his shirt on his sides. He smells so good. His lips move with yours perfectly.

He pulls away and looks into your eyes. "I love you." You blurt on accident but you felt it.

His lips spread into the happiest smile. "I love you, too!" He picks you up. You laugh and wrap your arms around his neck, and your legs wrap around his waist. He brings you to your bed.

When you know, you know.

For the first time in years, you feel safe.

#embry call #twilight #jacob black #jared cameron #paul lahote #quil ateara #sam uley #seth clearwater #twilight wolfpack #leah clearwater #seth clearwater x reader #seth clearwater imagine

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viktoriaashleyyx · 4 months ago

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Since I am getting ready for another Renfaire tomorrow, here's some Renfaire 101 from a lifelong Rennie:

The pleats of your kilt go in the back

Your corset is laced from the middle (most of the time)

If these things are off most times more experienced Rennies will quietly let you know, there are some assholes in the mix, but most of us are cool if you are. I can't tell you how many times I have relaced someone's corset for them in the bathrooms.

Put your boots on before your corset

You don't have to dress to theme, or dress up at all. If you wanna wear jeans and a t shirt go for it. It's still fun.

Wear comfortable shoes. Lots of walking no one really cares if you're shoes don't match. I'm wearing my Docs cause my $5k Faire boots are a little tight and I keep putting off breaking them in during off season.

I know you're there for a good time but so is everyone else. If you're a belligerent drunk, limit yourself, if you can't keep your hands to yourself, stay tf home.

Take into account how you will ride home. Not just in terms of having a designated driver (v important) but also it's not very comfortable to ride home after a long day in a corset. You're gonna be tired and grouchy. Throw a t-shirt or some jammies in the car to change into when you get back to it, some soft slippers too.

Stay hydrated!! No alcohol doesn't count! Most faires I have been to have Powerade/Gatorade and bottled water for sale, tap water for free. Bring a few Gatorades to put in the car (can't bring them inside but they aren't gonna search your vehicle). Even if it's cold out hydration is important so you can keep having fun.

Sunscreen.

I bring my kids so I always have a small first aid kit on me, some wet wipes, bandaids, cortizone, the likes. Has been useful for my kids and others. If you can fit it into your bag, bring it.

Don't steal shit, this isn't Walmart. Most shops (at least at the faires I go to) are artisans selling their craft and they have worked really hard to purchase and build the booth they're in. If you can't afford it, move on.

TIP the Performers!! Even if it's just a dollar, I know it may come off weird that almost every show has a "Please tip us" segment but they (at most faires) literally work for tips. The Faire itself doesn't pay them to be there.

If you're camping for the weekend bring some fruits or veggies to snack on, you aren't going to find many inside the Faire.

Speaking of camping, you don't need to join a clan to have fun. Clans are just groups that put on different activities/parties for patrons. If you meet some people and hit it off and they invite you to join their clan, cool. But honestly it's p much just signing up to be involved with set up and planning w/o pay. Not necessary

All in all, have fun, consent is mandatory, and nothing feels better than an after Faire shower. ❤️

#ren faire #renassaince #Renaissance faire #pirate #texas renaissance festival #sherwood forest faire #renfest #renfest tips #fantasy #fantasy core #faerie #men in kilts #fantasycore #scarborough #scarborough faire

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fortheloveofwonderland · 1 year ago

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Midnight | Chapter 15 | S.R

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter Summary - you and Spencer spend time with other people which ends up bringing you closer together. Meanwhile, Garcia makes a discovery.

Pairing - unsub! Spencer Reid / Fem! Reader

Category - dark angst | smut | very eventual happy ending

Warnings - Spencer and reader with other people, oral (m receiving), murder, swearing, penetrative sex, protected sex, angry Spencer, fingering, suicide mentions, mentions of miscarriage, tears.

WC - 4.6k

Chapter 15 - The Haunting

Penelope Garcia looked at the confusing information on her screen with a heavy frown furrowing her forehead. The information wasn’t wrong, she knew that wasn’t possible, but it didn’t mean it made any sense.

On Sunday JJ had gone to try and see Spencer again and had noted he had mail piling up as though he hadn’t been home for a while. She also couldn’t find his car anywhere. On Monday, armed with the information, Emily had reluctantly agreed to let Garcia put out an APB on Spencer’s missing vehicle.

It was now Thursday and the team had just arrived back from a case in Chicago. Still frowning at the screen, Penelope printed the information before hurrying out of her bat cave and down the corridor to where everyone had just returned to the bullpen.

Emily noticed the confusion on the tech analyst's face immediately and frowned as the colourful woman headed her way in too high heels.

“Please don’t tell me we have another one?” Emily groaned, the rest of the team now looking at her.

“Uh not exactly. I, uh, I think I found boy wonder’s car.” She thrust the printout at Emily who took it and scrutinised it.

“What? Where?” JJ was quickly at her side.

“You found his car, but not him?” Tara frowned.

Emily sighed as she looked at the crime scene photographs of an entirely burnt out car surrounded by woodlands. Scanning the notes from the crime scene techs they had discerned the car had once been a canary yellow 1965 Volvo 122S Amazon. The exact same car Spencer drove.

“Where was this?” Emily looked up at Garcia.

“In the foothills of the Blue Ridge mountains. It’s been there for at least a week.” Garcia whimpered a little.

“What is it?” Luke came closer and plucked the sheet of paper from Emily's hand. “Shit.”

“Someone please share the information.” Rossi encouraged them.

“A car matching Reid’s was found burnt out in the woods near Franklin County, Virginia.” Emily informed them.

“Just the car?” JJ’s panic was evident in her voice.

“Just the car. No one was in it.” Garcia replied.

“Oh thank god.” JJ breathed.

“But that begs the question, where is Reid? And why was his car set alight?” Matt scratched the back of his head.

“And is Y/N with him?” Luke piped up.

Emily exhaled, looking at the report again before addressing her team.

“This isn’t an official case,” she regarded each of them individually. “If any of you don’t want to work this, you don’t have to.”

“We’re not going anywhere.” Rossi spoke for them.

“Agreed.” JJ nodded fiercely.

“JJ and Rossi will head out to the Franklin County crime lab and take a look at the car. Garcia, have a look and see if there are any rental car companies or used car lots within walking distance of where the car was found. We have to assume he’s ok and he would have needed another way home.” Emily instructed them.

“But if he’s not ok?” Tara dared to ask.

“The rest of you start calling local hospitals and see if anyone matching Reid’s description has been admitted in the last week.”

Everyone nodded in agreement at their assignments and started going their separate ways. Luke felt a pang in a gut, similar to one’s he’d been having since you’d called him from the pay phone in Illinois. Something didn’t feel right and he had a sense that it related to Spencer. He wasn’t sure why, but he was fairly certain if they found him, they would find you too.

***

Spencer stared at the light fitting hanging above his head, trying not to let himself get too distracted by the halos of light they created on the ceiling.

His mind wandered over the events of the last week without really meaning to. Since Sunday, when he’d killed Edward Grimes, he’d killed three more times.

On Monday he drove all the way out to Provo, Utah and murdered Burton Maxwell. On Tuesday he’d gone to Rock Springs, Wyoming and slit the throat of Jeremy Powell. Wednesday had taken him to Flagstaff, Arizona to take care of Harrison Baler.

In three days he’d clocked well over two and a half thousand miles in the little blue Nissan and despite all the blood he’d shed he didn’t feel satisfied.

Now it was Thursday and by this point he was exhausted, he couldn’t drive anymore even if he wanted to. Part of the reason he’d kept himself so busy was to limit time spent with you, because he despised the way his heart broke in his chest every time he looked at you. He left early each morning and returned after you were already asleep.

This morning was the first time you’d seen each other properly since Sunday morning and the air between the two of you was so awkward but he tried to ignore it when you found him in the kitchen.

“Oh hi stranger. Didn’t expect to see you.” You tugged at the hem of the oversized t-shirt, trying to cover your bare legs.

“Yeah, sorry I’ve had some business to take care of.” He shrugged, sipping his coffee.

“Right, of course.” You knew exactly what that meant.

“I was planning on hanging around today though, if you wanted to grab lunch somewhere or I could try that cooking thing again?” He shrugged, a feeble attempt at extending an olive branch.

“Uh, I can’t, sorry.” You moved past him toward the coffee machine.

“Have you not spent every waking minute with GI Mountain Man this week?” He tried to remain calm.

“Actually no, I haven’t done much of anything this week. Reading mostly. But then I finished my book so I went into town yesterday to buy some new ones and I bumped into Jesse and he asked if I wanted to spend the day with him.” You grabbed a mug and placed it under the spout of the machine.

“So I’m just old fucking news now right?” He grumbled.

“Spencer,” you spun back to face him with a frown. “I haven’t seen you for three days! You disappear on your vigilante mission without so much as a word and now you expect me to drop everything because you suddenly want to spend time with me?”

“Do what you want. I don’t care.” He spat, leaving a half finished cup of coffee on the counter and storming away.

He hadn’t seen you again after that and at some point he heard you leave the house. He spent a few hours pottering around the cabin but eventually he started to go a little stir crazy and took a walk into town.

He told himself he didn’t mean to go to Scout’s and scope out the checkouts but that was where he ended up. And low and behold he quickly spotted that head of fire engine red hair.

He and Mary got talking and he found out she got off work at six and before he’d known it he’d invited her over.

The noise echoed around the room, the slightly sloppy sounds of saliva and desperation. It had been some twenty minutes now and Spencer didn’t think he’d ever enjoyed a blow job less in his entire life.

He wasn’t even fully hard anymore, unable to maintain an erection due to the inexperienced mouth around his cock. She was trying, she was trying her best and he felt bad. But she just wasn’t very good.

Mary kept glancing up at him, questioning with her eyes what was wrong. Eventually Spencer threaded his fingers into her hair and tugged her off of him. A trail of spit led from her chin to the head of his cock and she wiped the back of her hand over her mouth.

“Am I doing something wrong?” She pouted, kneeling between his legs on the floor.

“I’m just not feeling it, I guess.” He offered her a smile, taking hold of her wrist and pulling her up until she was in his lap.

His large hand clutched the back of her neck and brought her closer to kiss her. His tongue roughly thrust inside of her mouth and she gasped into the kiss.

He started rolling his hips up between her legs, the friction working well to get him standing to attention again in no time. She wore a painfully short skirt despite the temperatures outside and he used his free hand to move her panties aside.

His cock nestled between her legs, already lining himself up when she suddenly pulled back from his lips.

“Hang on, one sec,” she blushed slightly, sliding off his lap and scurrying to her bag.

He knew what she was getting and he tried to not roll his eyes. She was being cautious, he kind of admired that about her. But Spencer was really not a fan of condoms.

She was soon coming back with the little purple packet and kneeling in his lap again. She fumbled in trying to tear it open, a pink hue on her cheeks as she fought with the packaging.

He was losing wood again, and he rolled his eyes, snatching it from her hands and making quick work of ripping it open. He had to pump his cock a few times before he could slip the condom on. He looked at Mary in his lap, her large green eyes full of embarrassment.

I can’t fucking look at you, he thought as he lifted her from his lap again and got her to her feet. She frowned as he led her to the side of the couch and bent her over the arm of it, burying her head in the sofa cushion.

He parted her legs and ran one finger through her folds to make sure she was wet enough for him not to hurt her too much. Pleased she was lubricated enough he lined himself up and soon plunged inside of her.

Mary yelped, jutting forward at the intrusion but he ignored her. He gripped her hips and started thrusting.

He closed his eyes and tried to imagine it was you but she felt nothing like you. He pictured your face, your smile, your beautiful eyes. He envisioned your perfect breasts, your goddamn delirious pussy.

But then he started to visualise your phenomenal body, as you climbed into the bed of another man. He pictured that bearded mountain man between your legs, eating you out, fingering you and then fucking you.

His thrusts were getting rampant and he ignored Mary’s grunts of pain, lost in his own thoughts. His blunt nails dug into her hips as she squirmed beneath him.

What the fuck has he got that I haven’t got? He’d never be able to fuck her the way I do, make her feel the way I do. He’s not better than me, he’s a fucking meat head mountain asshole. No, she’s mine, she’ll always be mine.

“Andrew!” A strangled voice pierced his ears, cutting through his violent thoughts.

He froze and looked down at Mary who had twisted her neck to look at him. Then his eyes cast downwards between their bodies where his completely flaccid cock, sheathed pathetically in the wrinkled condom, had slid out from between her legs.

He took a step backwards, feeling more exposed than he’d ever felt in his life. He angrily removed the condom and tossed it on the floor, tucking himself back inside his jeans and flopping to the couch.

Mary tugged down her skirt before coming to sit next to him. He wouldn’t look at her, he was too embarrassed.

“It’s ok,” she cooed. “It happens.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” He grunted.

“A little.” She shrugged sadly.

“Well it doesn’t. Maybe if you were a better fuck, I wouldn’t have this problem.” He spat harshly.

Mary seemed to withdraw into herself at his words, her bottom lip pouting as he landed that blow to her ego.

“I’ve never had any complaints before.” She huffed, getting to her feet.

“That’s because the men you usually spread your legs for are young and inexperienced and wouldn’t know a good pussy if it was literally sitting on their cock.” He growled.

“Or maybe,” she spun back around, eyes wider than normal. “You can’t keep it up because you’re a goddamn old man!”

Spencer saw red and it had nothing to do with her flamboyant hair colour. He jumped to his feet and advanced on her, causing her to whimper as he backed her into the door.

“What did you say?” He spat at her.

“N-nothing.” She swallowed, her previous bravado vanished into thin air. “I’m sorry.”

“Get out of my house.” He snarled, taking a step back before he did something stupid. “Now.”

Mary whimpered again, quickly grabbing up her things and scurrying to the door like a frightened puppy. He watched her go and when she closed the door behind herself he fell back to the couch.

He was instantly flooded with remorse. None of this was Mary’s fault, he was the only one to blame. He’d pushed you into the arms of another man and now he had to suffer the consequences.

Mary was simply collateral damage in hurricane Spencer Reid’s path.

***

You’d spent the day with Jesse, walking in the sunshine, pursuing bookstores and drinking an ample amount of coffee in boutique cafes. He’d taken you to dinner and then you’d ended up back at his place.

The door was barely closed behind you before he was pushing you back against it and kissing you passionately. Whatever nerves he’d had the other day were well and truly gone now and that was confirmed when his hand slipped inside your pants soon after.

He plunged two fingers inside of you while his thumb rubbed your clit. You moaned against his lips, pushing your back up against the door. He was clearly not wasting any time and you were more than happy with that.

His lips trailed down your neck as he fingered you and you found the bulge in his pants and started stroking him through the fabric. He hissed into your skin, bucking against your hand.

“Fuck, I, uh,” he swallowed thickly. “It’s been a really long time, maybe we can just focus on you for now.”

You giggled, removing your hand from his erection and letting the feeling of his fingers inside of you wash over you.

You were clenching around his hand, your legs turning to jelly beneath you. You gripped his jaw and kissed him again.

“Should we take this away from the front door?” You panted.

“Uh huh, good idea.” He somewhat reluctantly removed his hand from inside your pants and then grasped your wrist, pulling you along to his bedroom.

You fell to the bed and your lips attached again. You helped each other out of your clothes until you were both completely naked. He rolled on top of you, fingers finding their way back between your legs. You looked him up and down and moaned slightly at the sight of him.

Almost every inch of skin on both arms from wrist to shoulder were covered in intricate and colourful tattoos. One continued over and down his chest, stopping just shy of his left nipple. You ran your nails along his ribs where another large tattoo was on display.

“You like them?” He smirked down at you, his fingers working deftly inside you.

“Hmm.” You hummed. “Very sexy.”

He chuckled and bowed his head to kiss you again. You felt his hard cock press against your leg and you were suddenly desperate for him.

“Jesse?” You panted into his mouth.

“Yes, Rose?”

“Please fuck me.” You whined, opening your legs and trying to nestle him between them despite the fact his hand was still there.

He laughed again, continuing to finger you for a few more seconds before he cautiously withdrew his fingers. He knelt over you and reached for the night stand, fishing out a condom. You chewed on your bottom lip as you stared at his hard abs and even harder cock as he ripped open the packet. But he seemed to grow a little hesitant as he rolled it on, hands shaking slightly.

“Fuck, sorry. I’m nervous. Is that weird?” He pulled a face.

“Not at all.” You tried to reassure him.

“I’m really sorry if I don’t last very long.” He positioned himself between your legs and you ran your fingers through his thick beard.

“Jesse, please just fuck me.” You laughed, wrapping your legs around his waist.

He laughed too, kissing you once more as he slowly edged inside of you. He wasn’t as big as Spencer but despite thinking he would be rusty, he certainly knew what he was doing.

He didn’t last all that long but it was ok because he still managed to make you come before he himself was pushed over the edge.

Afterwards you laid side by side in his bed in a mildly awkward silence. You had a feeling he wanted to say something and so you stayed quiet until he found his voice.

“So, uh,” he rolled his head to the side to look at you. “I was married once.”

“Oh.” You replied, not entirely sure what to say to that.

“I met a girl in my freshman year of college and we just fell so fast for each other. We got married when we were twenty one, she fell pregnant two months later. She miscarried really late into the pregnancy and she was never the same again. Her mental health declined day by day, she could barely leave the apartment to go to work. We tried medications and therapists and for a while it seemed to help.

I wanted to try for another baby but she didn’t. No matter how much time passed she wasn’t interested. Our marriage struggled, I really wanted kids. I’m pretty sure we were heading for divorce. We’d been married for seven years when I returned home from work one day and found her in the bathtub with her wrists cut. I can still picture it sometimes, the blood, the lifeless eyes. It haunts me.”

Your chest tightened to the point it was painful as you looked into the eyes of this wonderful man as he told you about his dead wife. He’d told you his relationship history was complicated but you’d not expected that.

“Jesus,” you breathed. “That’s horrible, I’m so sorry.”

“It was a long time ago.” He shrugged. “I didn’t date for a really long time after that, not until I moved back to Butte. I met a woman who ran the Tin Cup Cafe in town and we hit it off. We dated for about a year until she told me one day that it bummed her out that I sometimes said my dead wife’s name in my sleep. She left town after that, I never saw her again.”

“Shit.” You reached for him, cupping his cheek softly in your hand. “When you said complicated I didn’t think you meant this complicated.”

“And to top it all off, now I’m falling for a married woman.” He sighed wistfully.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

“I wish I had a choice.”

“Should I go?” You let your hand fall back to your side.

“I don’t know. I don’t want you to, but if you stay it might make it harder.” He smiled sadly.

“I like you, Jesse, I really do.” You confessed. “But I have no idea how long I’ll even be in Crested Butte for and there is still the matter of Sp…Andrew.” You mentally scalded yourself.

“If it’s just a marriage of convenience, why do you stay with him?”

“It’s…complicated. For lack of a better term.”

“I just told you about my wife’s suicide, I can handle complicated.” He took hold of your hand encouragingly.

“He’s my best friend.” You sighed, trying to pick your words carefully. “Something happened and we had to leave our jobs, our homes. We’re not really married.”

God Spencer would actually kill you if he knew you were telling anyone this.

“What do you mean?” Jesse frowned.

“We wear the rings, we say we’re married. But we’re not. It’s just easier somehow.”

He let go of your hand and looked at you curiously, cogs turning in his head.

“Are you like, in WITSEC or something?”

“Not quite that dramatic, but in a sense, I guess.”

“Is your name really Rose?” His eyebrows furrowed.

“No.”

“Can you tell me your real name?”

“No.”

“So I’m here falling for a woman who I thought was married, but really isn’t and I don’t even know your real name?” He looked at you in exasperation and god how you wished you’d kept your mouth shut. “Fuck, how is that somehow more complicated than my dead wife?”

“I’m sorry.” You rolled your lip between your teeth. “Maybe we shouldn’t have…this was a bad idea.”

He watched you roll over and scrabble to your feet, quickly trying to locate your clothes.

“You don’t have to go.” He spoke but he didn’t sound so sure.

“It’s best that I do.” You dressed hurriedly as he observed from the bed. “Please don’t tell anyone. Especially Sp…fuck…Andrew. Please.”

It made sense to him now why you always tripped over his name, you were hiding his real identity. But he hadn’t missed the look of fear in your eyes when you spoke about him.

“Is he threatening you? Does he hurt you?” He sat up, sounding panicked.

“What? No.” You were quick to answer.

“You said he was a bully.”

“He has a bit of a temper, but he’s not abusive or anything like that. Look, just forget I said anything, please? I really need you to drop this.”

He looked like he might argue but eventually he sighed and chewed on the inside of his cheek.

“Can I walk you home?”

“No, I’m fine, thanks though.” You finished getting your clothes back on and slid your feet in your shoes.

He got up and gave you a kiss goodbye, but his eyes looked sad when he pulled away, stroking back your hair.

“This is over before it really began, isn’t it?” He whispered.

“I think it has to be. I can’t tell you who I am or where I’ve been, or even where I’m going. I’m sorry, I really am. But you deserve better than that.” You smiled sadly at him.

“Friends?” He smiled back.

“For sure.” You nodded, stepping backwards towards the door. “I’ll see you around.”

“I hope so.” He watched you slip from the room and listened to the sound of the front door opening and closing.

You hurried home, finding the cabin shrouded in darkness and thinking Spencer must have gone out, with Mary or to kill you weren’t sure.

You found the used condom discarded on the living room floor and rolled your eyes, knowing you couldn’t be hurt after what you’d spent your night doing. You left it there, it was his mess and he could clean it up.

You headed upstairs, ready to collapse and sleep for a week but as you trudged down the landing you noticed a small sliver of light emanating from under the bedroom door. Tentatively you pushed the door open, worried about what you might find. It was one thing to know he’d slept with someone else, another entirely to have to witness it.

But upon entering the bedroom, you found Spencer alone, curled up in a foetal position in the middle of the bed, still fully dressed. He hugged his legs to his chest and his face was buried into his knees.

The lamp on the nightstand illuminated his face and when he glanced up your heart constricted in your chest when you saw the tear stains on his cheeks. He sniffed and rolled his bottom lip between his teeth.

Wordlessly you kicked off your shoes and shucked off your jacket before padding over to the bed and dropping to the mattress. He straightened his legs and held his arms out which you curled into without hesitation.

He pulled you close, holding you tighter than you’d ever been held before. He buried his face into the crook of your neck and you could feel his scratchy stubble against your skin.

“Please never leave me.” He whimpered, his voice completely shattered. “I’m an ass, I’ve been so terrible to you. I don’t deserve you. But please don’t ever leave me.”

“Spencer,” you wrapped your arms around him as your own tears appeared out of nowhere and started cascading from your eyes. “I couldn’t leave you, even if I wanted to. Partners in crime, right?”

“Partners in crime.” He sobbed, holding you impossibly tighter. “He’ll never love you like I do, you know that right?”

“I know, Spence, I know.” You nodded, burying your head into his chest.

This was how you’d both eventually fall asleep, sobbing into each other's embrace. But something felt different, something had shifted but you couldn’t quite put your finger on what.

Perhaps it was an understanding that passed between you. You’d been fighting each other this whole time, pushing each other away as though that somehow might make this whole situation easier. If you weren’t so in love with one another, life would be so much simpler.

But falling for Spencer had happened without rhyme or reason and even if he never planned on catching you and you fell flat on your face, you would love him regardless.

Maybe he was right, Jesse never would love you like he did, maybe no one ever would. Certainly no one would understand the things you were capable of the way Spencer did. And that was both calming and haunting all at once.

"Come on in, boy" said the skeletons,

Sitting by her closet door.

Dirty secrets, empty memories,

And broken hearts across the floor.

I was knocked out, heels over head,

So you dragged me by my feet,

To a ghost town, where you buried me,

No wonder no one heard my screams.

Love's so alive, but it died in it's sleep,

And now that it's dead,

I live in your head,

And I will haunt your fucking dreams.

No one will love you like I did,

Will treat you like I did,

So go on, wear that scarlet letter.

No one will love you like I did,

Will touch you like I did,

So good luck finding something better.

Run away, boy, if you couldn't tell,

Baby's got a thirst for blood.

A subtle system, wicked melodies,

Craving bullets from her gun.

So I tripped, stayed, follow every word,

Little spirals in their eyes.

Catch a lover, turn an enemy,

Just to watch them burn alive.

No one will love you like I did,

Will treat you like I did,

So go on, wear that scarlet letter.

No one will love you like I did,

Will touch you like I did,

So good luck finding something better.

Someday you may find that picture perfect guy,

And I'll chase my words with poison.

Until that day arrives, and swine take to the sky,

Fill your void with open thighs so.

No one will love you like I did,

Will treat you like I did,

So go on, wear that scarlet letter.

No one will love you like I did,

Will touch you like I did,

So good luck finding something better.

No one will love you like I did,

Will treat you like I did,

So go on, wear that scarlet letter.

No one will love you like I did,

Will fuck you like I did,

So good luck finding something better.

@bubblebuttwade @jay-2s-world @daddy-dotcom

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfic #unsub spencer reid #spencer reid x fem! reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction

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yesbutmakeitgay · 2 months ago

Text

Blood Red Moonlight

Chapter One

GIF by henley-reeves

Teacher!Valkyrie x Reader

Summary: Whether you believed it was a good idea from the beginning or not, dating your teacher is proving to be as much of a blessing as it is a curse.

Word count: 1k

No powers AU, High school AU, Barely legal age gap, Fluff, Suggestive language, Teacher!Valkyrie, Student!R.

A/N: New Valkyrie series I've been working on, it will include some sensitive topics down the line, so read at you own discretion. Each chapter will have content warnings. Enjoy!

Beta'd by @cordeliasdarling <3

Masterlist | This Series Masterlist | AO3

Savor The Moment

Saturday afternoon. You’re having a lunch date with your girlfriend at a very nice restaurant just outside your school district.

It’s a pretty standard date, as you’ve been going steady for a few months now. You both agreed you needed some time to relax and rest before you inevitable had to get back to working.

You’re in the middle of some menial conversation, when suddenly, you jump from your seat, "Don’t move, don't say a word," you whisper to her and all but run away.

She is left perplexed, but does as you told her.

A few seconds later, she receives a text from you, "Principal Hill just came into the restaurant."

"Oh, shit," she thinks to herself, her heartbeat picking up its pace.

"King, what a coincidence!" The woman in question approaches to greet Val, who does her best to keep a calm demeanor.

"Maria, what are you doing here?"

"Just having a nice day out with the family." She look at her companions, still waiting by the entrance to be seated, and when she looks back to Val, she notices there are two plates on the table, making her tone turn gossipy, "Are you here on a date?"

"I—uh—y-yeah…" Val stutters, finding it difficult to lie under such a compromising position.

Hill gasps, "You finally agreed to go out with Danvers?"

"Yeah." Val is taken aback by the wild guess, but decides to go with it, "You know what? I think something's keeping her, I’m going to see if she's okay."

"Alright, have a great day, see you Monday!"

"You too."

Val finally slips away with her heart still racing, to find you in the bathroom, "Princess, it's me," she hisses as she enters, prompting you to come out of your hiding spot in one of the stalls.

"Did she see me?" you scream whisper.

"No, she thinks I’m here with Carol."

You exhale deeply, feeling relief wash over you, "What do we do?"

"Wait five minutes, then meet me in the car," she instructs and you nod in response, both of you still worked up.

She comes back out, quickly pays for your meal, and goes to the parking lot, where you meet her after the allotted time goes by.

She immediately starts driving away as fast as safely possible, and you laugh it off as you feel the adrenaline running through your body.

"We can't go back to that restaurant ever again."

"Yeah, okay."

She drives to your house, and as you're approaching, she sees an expensive car parked in the driveway, so she steps on the gas again only slowing down a few blocks away. It's a quick and silent decision, almost an instinct.

"I thought they'd have left by now," you mutter apologetically once the vehicle has come to a stop.

"Do you wanna drive around and come back later to see if they're gone?"

You nod gently, "Okay."

The atmosphere turns serious and a little tense, but eventually, eases up again, as you take the scenic route to nowhere in particular. It’s a slow ride, with hands on thighs, intertwining fingers, and knuckles being kissed here and there.

"Date’s over right?" you ask rhetorically to officially mark the end of your romantic rendezvous, "Back to business."

She takes that as her cue to start lovingly grilling you, "Did you write your essay for Carter?"

"English lit...I'll do it tomorrow."

"Did you do your Politics reading?"

"I was hoping you could just quickly explain it to me later?" Your voice gets higher as you try to produce puppy eyes. She huffs in disbelief and mumbles something about Ms Walters under her breath.

"How did your Psychology quiz go?"

"Fine, Vidal's a piece of cake," you brush her off.

"Back in her day, students used to fear her."

"What happened?"

Val’s tone turns mocking, "She fell in love."

"Is that gonna happen to you?" you can’t help but tease.

"Oh please, I’m an angel"

"You’re no Ms Carter."

She gasps, "Why don't you ask her out then!"

"She wouldn't take me," you laugh at your girlfriend’s indignation, "apparently, she has a moral backbone." Val playfully slaps your arm.

"Speaking of, I got my Ethics paper back," you follow, "she loved it, as always."

She responds with a smirk, "Eh, Maximoff is easy to please."

"I have to start my Sociology project soon," you think out loud.

"Who teaches that?"

"Jones."

"Still?" Val scoffs, "I thought they would have fired her by now."

"Why?"

"She has the lowest scores of any teacher in the school."

You shrug as it kinda makes sense to you. Her apathy is the one reason you don't mind her so much.

"You did that presentation for Romanoff?"

"I teamed up with Yelena and didn't have to say a word."

"How come, even though you're dating your teacher, my class is the one you work hardest in?" she wonders somewhat honestly.

"It’s what I like to call 'paying it forward.'" You say with a pleased smile on your face.

Val frowns in utter confusion, "What—"

"Don’t think too hard about it." And she decides it’s probably best that way.

"Anything else I’m missing?"

You think for a second, "Ms Danvers gave us a last minute assignment about the history of DNA, you know anything about that?"

"Not really."

"But you're a history teacher."

"A Universal History teacher," she corrects, "I like to focus on much bigger things."

Your tone tuns immediately suggestive, "I’ll say."

"Stop that," she chastises with an eye roll, but her smile never falters.

After she decides it’s been long enough, she makes her way back to your house and parks in the now empty drive way. She exits and rounds the car to open the door for you, grabbing your hand to help you out.

You lean back on the vehicle and pull her by the shirt into a slow, hungry kiss, "Is this you paying it forward?" she asks, biting her lip.

"This is me collecting the fruits of my hard labor." You kiss her again, then linger, your faces mere centimeters from each other, "If you wanna come inside, I can think of some big things you can focus on."

She chuckles lowly, growing the distance between you, "Next time, Princess." It's what she always says, and you understand she doesn't wanna go into your house, let alone be sneaky in there, "I’ll see you Monday."

You say your goodbyes and enter your house with a deep sigh.

Chapter Two

#Valkyrie #king valkyrie #mcu valkyrie #Valkyrie x reader #tessa thompson #brunnhilde

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seat-safety-switch · 2 years ago

Text

Olden times used to be a lot better for race car construction. Speeds were slower, and safety meant being able to re-use the driver after you won. Plus, nobody really knew what they were doing. You could throw an old fuel tank from an airplane onto an old truck frame, weld the two parts together, and once the fires were extinguished, you'd have a winning dragster.

Nowadays, decades of intense competition, workplace safety regulation, and the discovery of hyperfocus-related mental disorders have produced race cars that would have been completely unimaginable to our distant ancestors. You can zip down the straight faster than the aforementioned bomber plane could, slam into a copse of trees on the side of the road, and probably come out of it at least half alive. Winning? Yeah, you could do that too, but you'd need to be trained in the fine art of racecraft nearly from birth, unlike me.

I know a lot of people are tired of me complaining about how old garbage that you find on the side of the road is better than all the new garbage that you have to have a paying job in order to afford. I'm tired of saying it! Which is why I decided to put my money where my mouth is. Not literally, because I have no money and because the Canadian plastic currency has been chemically constructed to be disgusting to eat, but you get the idea.

In the interest of getting better at motorsport, I've decided to start from square one, myself. I went to the store, and I started welding some frame together, using the store demo welders. Naturally, I wore a reflective vest, so that everyone knew I was supposed to be there. I drove the resulting vehicle right out of the store, after a quick stop-off at the self-checkout to ring up a pair of overpriced Chapsticks. Then I've been driving my improvised rocket ship in the woods at night. It's hard work, but I figure eventually I'll learn what I did wrong with this piece of shit, and head back to do something better. By 2090 or so, I should be roughly caught up to the state of the art in 1925. For instance, I've already determined that my next race car should have headlights.

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cal-daisies-and-briars · 1 month ago

Note

☣️☣️☣️☣️☣️☣️☣️☣️☣️☣️☣️☣️☣️☣️☣️

📸📸📸📸📸📸📸📸📸📸📸📸📸📸📸

🔍🔍🔍🔍🔍🔍🔍🔍🔍🔍🔍🔍🔍🔍🔍

I'm OBSESSED with these

THANK YOU!

45 for ☣️

---

Chim wasn’t going to adjust to having his life back overnight. He had, and still has, a shit ton of trauma to work through. Buck knew the kids’ routines, and was a good extra set of hands to have around.

But now, things are on the up. Chim is improving. Maddie is starting to talk again, slowly but surely. They’re going to be able to get by without him there all the time just fine. Not that he won’t be around, of course. He’s still volunteered himself, for whenever they need him. He’s still just only a text or a phone call away.

And, he’s really only a few neighborhoods over. He’s not going far. He’s going right back to Eddie’s.

Everyone seems to agree this is the best move. Well, everyone with one exception.

“Please don’t go,” Jee sobs in Maddie and Chim’s front entryway after Buck carries his final bag to his new vehicle. A pickup truck. Go figure. He’s absolutely certain he’ll wind up cramming himself in the Prius because Eddie will take the truck everywhere.

“Sweetie, I’m going to see you every single week. I promise,” Buck says. “I’m not going far.”

“You could just stay,” Jee cries.

Chim, standing nearby, bends to pick her up.

“Hey, kiddo,” he says. “Your uncle spent a lot of time here taking care of our family, right? Now he needs to go take care of Eddie, because all his brain power was stored in that mustache, and now it’s gone.”

“I hate Eddie,” Jee sobs.

Buck has to work very hard to bite back a laugh.

“Aw, come on,” Chim says. “No you don’t.”

“I do,” she says, voice shaking from tears.

“Maybe we’ll just have to set up a sleepover for you real soon,” Buck says. “How does that sound? You and your brother come hang out with Eddie and I? Give Mom and Dad a night just them?”

Jee sniffs, slightly mollified.

“Fine,” she says.

“Okay,” Buck chuckles. “We’ll do that, then.”

“Tell your uncle you love him,” Chim says.

“I love you Uncle Buck,” she mumbles.

Buck leans to press a kiss to her forehead. “I love you, too, Jee. I’ll see you really soon.”

---

45 for 📸

---

Buck swallows. “Right, okay. Basically, I wanted to apologize because… Because I fucked up. I know I did. I made a lot of really bad decisions, one after another, that hurt you. And other people, n-not just you. But you got caught up in me setting my own life on fire. I-I can’t lie and say I regret it, because then I would have Penny. I know you of all people understand that.”

Eddie nods. He does understand. Probably, actually, more than Buck even realizes.

“So, I’m sorry. I’ve done a lot to try to heal from that… That person who was so insecure he did all those things. I should have never put my job or my fears ahead of our friendship. Especially when you really needed a friend.”

Eddie feels like a swinging pendulum of anger and forgiveness. The former, because, how the fuck is it this easy? The latter, because, Jesus, he really needed to hear all that. What else does he need then? If that completely sincere, admittedly good apology isn’t enough, what more does he need? What’s fair?

Maybe he just needs to say his piece. He hasn’t been able to, has he? That need, and trying to bury it, almost lost him his son once. In a different scenario. A very different scenario. He doesn’t know why he keeps comparing them in his mind.

Eddie takes a deep breath.

“Thank you,” he says. “For apologizing.”

Buck nods. “Yeah…”

“Why’d it take six years?” Eddie finds himself asking.

Buck’s eyes widen. “Uh, what?”

“I never blocked your number, Buck,” Eddie says.

“Right,” Buck says quietly. “Right, yeah… You’re right. You’re… I should have reached out a long time ago. I was too embarrassed.”

---

Not quite 45 for 🔍 because it's the end of the chapter:

---

One only you would pay.

Only me? Buck asks.

Only you. And then everyone you love would have what they need. Guaranteed. No tricks.

No tricks? Buck asks dubiously.

None. What you agree to is what you get.

And what would I have to agree to? Buck asks. To save Bobby and make sure everyone else is okay, too? What’s the agreement?

A curse, the voice says.

A curse? Buck asks, certain he’s misheard.

You would agree to be cursed. A curse upon your life, in exchange for everything you want for everyone else.

---

#daisies and briars writes #911 contagion au fic #lawsuit future au fic #when they ask me who i am fic

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eraserbread · 6 days ago

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Hi bby!! I just finished reading ex husband gojo and im fucking devastated to say the least.. i know that you’re planning on writing a sad ending that obviously won’t allow the characters to be happy together anymore and i respect and love ur marvellous brain for being so creative!! However, for CLOSURE (lmfao why am i so hurt rn) can you explain or elaborate more on WHY TF IT ENDED AND WHY SHE LEFT?! I cant fathom this diabolical turn of events and im sad for toru real bad😭😭😭 damn.. but anyways. DONT FEEL PRESSURED TO WRITE FAST AND PUT SOMETHING OUT! UR TALENTED AND I ABSOLUTELY ADORE UR WRITINGG <33 ignore all these impatient people that can’t appreciate a good piece of literature and take your time with the second part :)

heyyy omg !! thanku so much for reading, it sounds sick but I'm so glad it devastated u 😭

anyways, yeah, i feel like an elaboration is the least i can do because to anyone but me it looks like she left with little reason. there are a few small, obvious points: toru not letting her pay bills, the constant arguing, and a few precursors I hinted at about him flipping his mood the second he gets mad—which isn't often at all. the main driving point is genuinely just his family and their need for him to carry on the bloodline. i guess they had conversations about never having kids because all she wants to do is focus on work and him, but toru was always unsure and kinda agreed without thinking. all he wants is her, and he did anything to get her to marry him... honestly he spent about a month begging until she decided to even go on a date with him.

pre-dating the events in part 1, the couple visited satoru's family on a holiday trip. he's not the closest with them, but they love his wife—she's the vehicle for more gojos, so they're going to pamper her with everything. that's what they did, they showered her in so much shit and their goal was not vague. they're straight up asking her—assuming that she's pregnant, how far along she is, and what she thinks the gender will be. she had to lie that whole trip, and when she talked to satoru about it, he essentially just told her to deal with it until they got home. that trip planted a bitter ass seed in her chest that made her loathe him silently. of course, she can't bring it up because he'll shut down—in the note she didn't send, she touches on the fact that she'd be sobbing right in front of him and he'd just ignore her. in a perfect world, he would've comforted her and kissed it better, but now she can't trust anything he says. she feels like her marriage is built on lies, and all she is is an incubator for a child they've actually been struggling to conceive—it just didn't happen when she was willing. after the way he treated her around his family, she's pulling the leash, holding onto some of the only power she has in this relationship (i.e. toru not letting her pay bills) by going on birth control. it'd be too risky to tell him to wear a condom all the time, and he'd freak out if he knew, so she has to hide it, and that causes even more friction between them u see, i wrote this with the mindset of one and done—I was only gonna put out the one part so I needed it to kinda stand on it's own. if I added too many family scenes, small arguments and disagreements, it'd be way too long and draggy. i had to throw in hints and ideas between the lines to establish a strong enough story to make it so long. totally didn't think u guys would be so invested. if I did, I would have added that prelude with the gojo clan, it'd give a lot of context. what i'm hoping to achieve next part, is kinda making toru a villain in a way. he's not innocent at all, though he leans into victimization when she finally leaves him. we see a bit of that crack through at the end—just how possessive, raw and selfish he can be. sure, she's not innocent either because she's always picking the fights, but toru had no business being that mean 😭 what's even crazier is the fact that his heart was telling him to chill, but he straight up ignored it because he was trying to inflict genuine, physical pain. he wants to make her suffer just like he did. he wants to make her angry and betrayed but is ultimately too weak to turn her down.

thank u so much for your question angel <3

#re: gaad #eraserasks

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goldenlionprince · 8 months ago

Text

Prongsfoot Week 2024 - Day 6

New to Prongsfoot Week: Thoughts for this Ship? (Link)

SFW

Who cooks? - James. It's something he did with his dad a lot.

Who’s the messiest? The cleanest? – Sirius is more of an organized chaos person, especially in his work and research spaces. Totally colour codes the shit out of everything. He knows where his stuff is, that’s the important part, not that everything is super neat. James is more of a tosses everything into the same bag/trunk and hopes for the best kind of person

Who fixes the vehicle after a breakdown? – Sirius, especially if it’s the bike we’re talking about

Living space has a leak! Who fixes it? – both, no problem for them with magic, really

Who buys the groceries? – James, or they go together

Going out to eat: Who pays? Who orders the most food? And who has dessert? – James never skips dessert. They order whatever they feel like that day and play-fight over the bill because they both want to pay for the other

Would they go to the beach? – Yes, but Sirius burns a lot easier.

Who knows how to swim? Who doesn’t? – they both do, but James is the better swimmer

Is someone multilingual? - I do believe the Blacks have a classical education of etiquette, dancing lessons, probably duelling, horse riding, an instrument and French (so that people like the Malfoys or Lestranges could not talk shit about them behind their backs without them noticing back in the day, it just stuck in the education plan while it might have faded out for other families) so Sirius can speak French, in theory, but he basically never uses it

Any pets? Or plants? - Sirius totally brings a half-Kneazle home that he found somewhere

Baths or showers? Together or separate? Any bubbles or bubble fights? - Showers. They join each other occasionally. Bubble fights totally happen in the prefects bathroom.

Can they stand silence? Who talks the most? Who talks the least? - Sirius can deal better with silence than James. I see Sirius as more of an introvert who needs some time away from people to recharge his social batteries (James is not people in this case, he's special, like always) while James needs social interactions more often.

Who stays up late? Who sleeps the most? Does the other have to force them to sleep/wake up? - James is a morning person and falls asleep before midnight to get a good amount of sleep in. Still he needs like twenty minutes after waking up to really be present. But after that he's annoyingly energetic. Sirius stays up longer usually and is a bit of an insomniac. Runs on like three hours of sleep. But when he wakes up his brain is online immediately, no matter what time it is. Wake him up in the middle of the night and he's ready to go.

Who is the highest maintenance? Does the other mind? - I don't think any of them are really high maintenance but – James. Likes to mess his hair up artfully. Sirius on the other hand goes to bed with wet hair after washing it with a 5in1 kind of shampoo and shower gel combination and just wakes up with perfect hair, runs his fingers though it once without a mirror, done. If James takes too long Sirius will just poke him in the ribs with the handle of his toothbrush.

Vacation ideas: who decides them? Where would they go, if anywhere? - James comes up with more places he wants to see. They decide very spontaneously. They end up more on hiking trips and in nature than in big cities. They probably go looking for dragons or nundus for fun.

NSFW

How often do they have sex, if at all? - as often as they feel like it. Sometimes a lot, sometimes not for a while.

Who brings ideas? Who initiates? - James is more touchy so probably him

Any kinks they clash on? - nope

Favourite positions? - anything where they can be really close, preferably facing each other

Dom/top? Sub/bottom? Any switches? - Sirius tends to bottom more but they do switch

Favourite erogenous zones? - Sirius' neck for sure. For James it's probably the neck too and his collarbone. And his inner thighs – when Sirius bites there he goes feral.

Quickest turn ons? - Being extremely clever and competent around each other. A rant on magical theory will do it. So will being an extremely capable and strategically impressive Quidditch captain (the uniform helps too). Or a duel with Death Eaters.

First to orgasm? Last to orgasm? - usually James tries to make Sirius come first, sometimes it's a competition of who can go the longest without finishing

Favourite romantic gestures during sex/orgasm? - clinging to each other and holding hands, James whispering love confessions over and over

How are their afterglows? - they need to be in contact. Cuddled up or just interlocking their fingers, doesn't matter, just contact. Also forehead touches, just breathing with each other.

Who’s loud? Who’s quiet? Does one try to make the other louder/quieter? How? - James is louder, Sirius is someone who tries to keep his sounds in or muffles them

Lights on or off? Do they look at each other? Or is someone embarrassed? - lights on, and lots of eye contact when they are not kissing

Open or closed relationship? Do they sometimes share? - closed. It's the two of them and they don't need anything more.

#prongsfoot #prongsfootweek2024

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 2 years ago

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WIBTA for taking my own car to pick up my grandma despite my dad insisting on just taking his truck?

Next week I'm (24 GNC) helping my dad (58 M) move his grandma from the Midwest to his place in upstate NY. He is paying for everything on this trip- uhaul trailer, food, motel, gas. He just bought the truck used this year but it is a piece of shit, he constantly has to fix it. It's loud and uncomfortable, I just don't like it.

He's VERY insistent on just taking one vehicle, says it's too much of a hassle to navigate with 2 vehicles and you're always getting separated. To be fair, I only have moved once and don't have a lot of experience with this- I drove across the country but I was by myself so I'm sure he's right about it being more tedious with multiple vehicles. I should also note, he doesn't even want me to help drive the truck at all, he's convinced I couldn't...handle it I guess (nevermind that I've driven snowplows, cranes, forklifts and the like).

So I don't see the problem, it's just 1 night in a motel, we meet there. Phones exist- if there's a problem then we just call? My reasoning for not wanting to go with him in the truck is, as mentioned, it's unreliable and big- my grandma's knees don't work and I can't even see how we're gonna get her into the truck. I have a little hatchback sedan with plenty of storage, it's in good shape and a much safer vehicle.

My other motivation is, well, my dad and I don't get along great. He's controlling and irrational. I don't want to be trapped in a vehicle with him for a week while we get everything packed and moved. I need the option to leave and get space if I need to. There's not an easy way for me to even tell him this without him making a big deal out of it or being a hurt piss baby. My grandma and I get along fine and she specifically told me she would rather be in my car.

He didn't say it, but maybe he just doesn't want to be driving alone? He does have poor night vision. However earlier this year he drove there by himself so I doubt that's it. I don't understand why else he would be so insistent on just taking one vehicle, but maybe someone else who's moved can verify that taking two vehicles is a bad idea.

So I want to know: would I be the asshole if I just put my foot down and refused to help unless I had my car?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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flowerwiththemachinegun · 9 months ago

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Misconduct Chapter 3

I really don't have a description for this chapter one. We finally get to see some of reader though.

For Tumblr Description Only: Turns out I didn’t add this last upload to tumblr but had it on ao3.

So notes for certain visuals, feel free to of course adjust to your liking:

*Y/N vehicle list *for now*: 1980’s Buick Grand National. All black, of course. Also dark tints, for sure (pls yes, perfect condition)

*Genesis’ vehicle *yanno he’s got some rich shit*: 2016 Rolls Royce, maroon and with seats to match. (I’ll get to the custom specifics later)

I have something special for Tseng but we don't see him around too much for a bit so I won't be adding here.

I guess POV’s will be changing. Makes it easier to write, dunno how to swap them smoothly. I’ll state when and who POV it changes to. Please lol, I don’t know how to address pov’s decently so work with me.

Reader pov:

“We're short a package.” You state groggily, yawning as you read over the inventory list again. Moving the clipboard impossibly close to your face as you follow each line with your pen. It was 2am by now and your desire to go to bed was becoming greater than your need to nitpick through each shipment. Then again, it was your job to make sure everything was accounted for. Even being a single item off would raise a lot of questions, making your job far harder for yourself than it needed to be. The tasks were easy in your eyes and didn't require you to do much besides risk your livelihood on occasion. This was the third time the new shipment has been counted. Pulling the clipboard away from your face, glancing in the direction of the newcomer you were stuck with for the day. A frown taking over your features as you think back on your distaste when it comes to working with anyone. Everything goes so smooth when you’re alone, usually never having a complication.

You were certain it wasn’t your fault the numbers were off. Inwardly groaning as you walked over to him, “Hey, Paul. You can head out for the night. I’ll wrap this up, we’ve got most of the count complete anyways.”

Paul, an average height, darker toned male with glasses, couldn’t have been any older than 18 you presumed. A patchy, scruffy beard lining his chin with a connecting mustache turns and gives you a worried look. His voice adds on to your overwhelming desire to get him out of this building. It was like the man wouldn’t even open his mouth when speaking, mumbling each word so low you could hardly hear him. Really you wanted to ask ‘what the fuck did you just say’, but you were doing your damndest to be nice. It wasn’t like you’d have to deal with the kid very often. “I won’t get paid if I leave now?”

‘I’ll pay you myself if it gets you the hell away from me’ sighing as he goes back to rifling through each herbal bag. Your voice stops him from his actions.”Who’s going to know you left early? I truly don’t care, you’ve done enough today anyways and it’s late.” Adding a point in to further sway things to your liking, “It’s free money, why say no?”

Considering your offer for a quick moment before asking with a hint of hope in his voice, “Are you sure?”

Poor boy, he looked exhausted anyway. No doubt this sort of lifestyle is having an effect on him, wearing him down quickly. Too bad he’ll find out the hard way that once you’re a part of this scene, leaving without going in a body bag wasn’t very much guaranteed.

“Don’t worry, if you’re working with me I’ll try to accommodate as much as possible.” Your words echoing in your mind were far more harsh, ready to restart the count so you can carry on with the inventory process and get back to the comfort of your bed. Truly it wasn’t entirely his fault you were in a sour mood, over the course of the week you’ve hardly had a moment to rest. Having the next day off should prove as a nice reward for being stuck with such a large shipment.

Finally accepting your offer after a bit of persuading, Paul hands you the sheet of the count that he’s ‘completed’ up to this point. Glancing over the form as he retreats to grab his bag, watching him in the corner of your eye to make sure he doesn’t take anything on his way out. After he leaves you immediately disregard the form he gave to you, tucking it behind the sheet of paper you were filling out on your clipboard. That wouldn’t be of any use to you.

Sighing as you look at the mess of little white pouches on the floor, each one with a unique four digit item number on the front in a large, bold Times New Roman font. The name of each herb underneath the item number along with a small description of its intended purpose, from sleep, focus, energy, etc. Sorting through Paul’s side of the inventory count would be troublesome. Leaving the items in an unorganized state, like items that were supposed to be placed together stuffed in random bins.

After hours of reorganizing the packages by item number and weight you finally get the inventory count to match the shipment log, each herbal product being properly counted for. Not a single package is missing. Good, you can finally get out of here with what little sanity you have left. Storing them in the small warehouse, a series of tall silver wire shelves lining the walls, three lined up to create a few aisles. You neatly store each item in their labeled location. A look of relief crossing your face as you toss the last item in its designated place.

God, you couldn’t be more excited to leave. Heading in the direction of the small office tucked in the far back corner of the warehouse, making sure to deposit the papers containing your count in the filing cabinet behind the small oak desk. You begin grabbing your belongings, stuffing your laptop into your backpack in a hurry before placing it on your back. Digging into the pockets of your black cargo pants for your keys as you make your way to the rear exit, locking the door behind you and giving it an extra tug to be sure the door was secure.

Rolling your eyes as you get to your car, throwing your bag over the driver's side, landing into the passenger seat with a thud. ‘Fuck,’ you forgot to enter in the results on the spreadsheet. Knowing you have a bit of leeway in your place of work you decide you’ll worry about it later, it was something you could do from home anyway. Besides, it’s five in the morning and you haven’t achieved an ounce of shut eye in what felt like the last twenty-four hours. Plopping into your seat you start the car, the motor roaring to life. The sound of your straight piped exhaust making your car twice as loud as it should be. Something your neighbors often complained about in the past. After a few choice words caused them to quickly quiet themselves down.

Pulling out of the parking lot and speeding your way through sector three. Lucky for you the streets weren’t too busy, a Saturday morning coupled with it being so early, working out in your favor so you could barrel your way through the streets to your home in sector two. Only slowing down through areas you knew were patrolled by Shinra squad cars and yielding for an innocent driver you nearly sideswiped in your half asleep stupor. Probably not the most ideal condition to drive around in. How else would you get home though?

Finally making it to your subdivision. A large, wealthy area on the border of sector one and two. One of the few areas in Midgar where the houses were a decent distance apart, the houses having yards with perfectly cared for grass. Each house follows a similar structure, two and three story style homes, tan and gray brick homes. A few of them here and there are decorated with vinyl siding, matching the colors of the brick homes. Driving into the long, inclined driveway leading to the big detached garage of your own two story home. It wasn’t the biggest house in the neighborhood, but it was an upgrade from your upbringing in the slums. Fitted with massive picture windows on the bottom floor and a small portion of the top floor and arched windows on the top floor. Like the other homes the yard was well kept, bushes that were along the front of the house evenly trimmed.

Parking outside of the garage proceeding to climb out of the car. Hardly remembering to grab your bag on the way out, you slam the door shut before following the walkway to the front door. The lack of sleep fully catches up to you causing you to drag your feet along the way, your fingers fumbling the keys as you unlock the door. There was only one thought in your head. ‘Sleep.’ Slowly making your way to the living room you can’t help but drop your bag on the floor besides the large white sectional. Your arms feel as though they aren't capable of performing any miniscule task. Not even bothering to take your boots off you sprawl out on the couch, dangling your feet off of the edge in an attempt to keep your shoes off of the fine fabric. Having no intentions on leaving for the duration of the day,you drift off to sleep in no time.

**Genesis+Tseng pov**

5am wasn’t early in Genesis’ world, not by any means. It still didn’t mean he was in a pleasant state of mind at this time. His mood quickly soured as another driver almost slams into him during his commute to safety training, the original source of his frustrations.

Narrowing his eyes at the rogue driver as they attempt to give Genesis the right of way, coming close to already blowing his cover as he realizes he was conveniently coming face to face with you. ‘Speak of the devil and they shall appear right?’ Though he was driving ahead of you Genesis made sure to keep you within view, watching your car through the mirrors of his own. Fishing the PHS out of his pocket, Genesis calls the number saved for Tseng silently urging him to answer as he watches you in his rearview mirror. turn into a suburban area.

Inwardly cursing as he watches you turn into a suburban area. He got lucky coming across you so quickly, by any means Genesis was going to trail you. He needed to get this mission over with as soon as possible. Genesis wasn’t a great driver, but he was a legal one. There was no wonder the wild u-turn he executed almost caused two other drivers to crash. That really wasn’t his problem, focused wholly on following you as requested of him three days prior.

Ending the call and immediately dialing Tseng’s number again. Once more being met with voicemail, ‘What did he give me this for if he wasn’t going to answer it?!’ Genesis couldn’t help but think about how unprofessional it was of Tseng to not pick up. Keeping in mind that the lead Turk is a busy person. Yet, Genesis was not caring if he was or not. This is urgent. Though, wasn’t everything else Tseng dealt with?

Tossing the PHS into the center console, Genesis tails your vehicle. Maybe he could’ve done this with far more tact, only being about two car lengths away from you while tracking you to your next location. Trailing closely behind as you take him through the winding roads of this subdivision.

“Could’ve sworn Tseng said they were more attentive than this.” Genesis muttered under his breath as he parked in front of your neighbor's home. Scrutinizing you as he watched you walk to the door of your home and pull out a set of keys. ‘There’s no way they live here.’ Thinking back on your poor track record overall in life and lack of work history. Genesis can’t seem to think that someone like you would be living within a twenty minute radius of himself. Whatever you were doing was clearly paying off.

The sound of the PHS ringing, jarring Genesis out of his thoughts. Swiftly grabbing the device, answering and pressing the mobile device against his face. Genesis’ voice takes on the tone of a scolding father, similar to Angeal scolding Sephiroth and Genesis for their childish behavior. “Where were you when I called the first time? What am I to do when my assistant doesn’t answer his phone?”

At first Tseng didn’t think much of Genesis’ words, expecting the sassy attitude out of the red haired man. Something about Genesis' words caught him off guard. Leaving an almost bitter taste in Tseng’s mouth at being referred to as his assistant. The realization of the little statement caused Tseng to stop his explanation. “I was in a meet- I don’t recall a time I’ve ever ranked low enough to be your assistant.”

“Low enough?!” Genesis almost couldn’t believe his ears at Tseng’s insult. In reality he had no choice but to swallow his pride and accept the jab at his rank. It was no secret Tseng outranked many in Shinra due to his cushy little place at Rufus’ feet. Begrudgingly returning to the reason he called, “I found (y/n) on my way to training. Think I’ve found out where they live now. This isn’t the same place you have in your files, assuming they’ve moved recently.”

In an attempt to make himself less obvious, Genesis sheds his coat before stepping out of his car. Only so much could be done while approaching a stranger's home this early in the morning. The bare minimum he could accommodate was not approaching your property while practically waving a flag that screams ‘look at me’. Be discreet right? He’s prepared for this, he thinks. Having acquired a few tools to help along the way from Scarlet the day after his meeting with Tseng. The door shut with a thud which didn’t go unnoticed by the darker haired male.

“What are you doing?” Tseng’s voice had a skeptical tinge to it. He could practically hear Tseng rubbing his face in a stressed manner as he’s able to tell Genesis left his hidden spot to do who knows what. “Do not approach them at their home, we don’t know what you’re getting into yet.”

“Already on it.” Genesis announced almost proudly, ignoring Tseng’s direct command as he marches up the driveway of your home. Having been waiting outside for the past fifteen minutes, he was almost sure you wouldn’t be coming out any time soon. Examining his surroundings as he approaches your car, finally noticing the cameras posted around the outside of your home. He made his way up here now. No point in tucking tail and running. Advancing towards your car while surveying the area, being mindful to be sure nobody was in near to spot him.

“I asked what you’re doing. You can not make decisions on your own in this case. Is this not why you’re here now?”

The reminder from Tseng did nothing to persuade Genesis from pulling the small stick on tracker out of his pocket. Situating himself on the ground, sliding under the side of your car just enough to secure it in place on the inner portion of your frame behind the driver’s side wheel. “I’m making a way to find them more efficiently.” Quickly rising to his feet, Genesis heads back to his own vehicle, sparing a few glances around on his way. Without hesitation Genesis settles himself back into his car and drives away.

“Tseng, what you should be doing is thanking me. There’s now a tracker attached to their car and it’s already synced to this PHS.” The help from Scarlet comes into play. The tracker was a tiny device, hidden well enough that it shouldn’t be noticed for quite some time, if at all. One thing Genesis wasn’t interested in was patrolling the city in a vain attempt to find a single person. As it stands it wasn’t unusual for Genesis to see you in the area, your way of driving and choice of such a loud set up would make you stand out and be memorable for anyone. He knew it was only a matter of time before you crossed paths again. The occurrence happening sooner than later was a complete stroke of luck on his part as his investigation to your last known address proved to be listed for sale.

Tseng had low faith that Genesis went completely undetected in his actions. However, he could admit that this was an advantage in two ways. One, having your location whenever you made a move. Two, knowing where you live. It was a slight surprise to Tseng that you may have moved once more, knowing you weren’t even at your last place of residence for a year. “Get back to HQ, I need the tracking information shared with me as well as their address. What time was your training?”

Scoffing as Genesis navigated back to the Shinra building, his hope to miss safety training almost straining his very soul. “Six a.m, mind you, it’s a quarter to six now.” His silent prayer may be answered by the goddess above. With the amount of time it would take for him to arrive combined with exchanging information with Tseng there’s no way he would have to suffer through that for the day.

“We can work around it, I can have it rescheduled for this afternoon's class.”

Genesis was sure Tseng was getting a kick out of this. There was no mistaking the mirth in his voice as he made it known there were numerous time slots for these classes. ‘Since when did Shinra take safety seriously?’ This wouldn’t consist of anything but a couple of slideshows and materia introductions, so why was it so imperative that Genesis took these classes?

“Yeah, sure whatever. I’m on my way.” Ending the call without bothering to see if Tseng had anything left to say.

#ff7 #final fantasy vii #ffvii #tseng of the turks #tseng ff7 #tseng x reader #genesis rhapsodos #genesis rhapsodos x reader

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