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

[stirdrawsandreblaws]

to-do tomorrow:

lil' bit of morning ddr before meds

voting research for the congressional primaries coming up on june 25th, since there's a lot of other stuff on that locally

finish correcting state documentation on file with two departments

call planned parenthood abt extending my hrt prescription (assuming i can get someone to sit with me while i do it)

do the code review i was supposed to do today but too tired brain mush happened

finish drawing cursby

if i manage at least three of these i'll consider the day won tbh but i'm optimistic abt doing all six

[freedomfireflies]

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*

Previous Part:

~ Off the Shelf*

~ Full 404 Masterlist

~ Main Masterlist

~ Blurb Masterlist

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[maxwell-grant]

The Penguin Ep3 - "Bliss" Breakdown

oh

(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.

[anistarrose]

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.

[foreverrandomwritings]

Hi can I request this [ STAKE ]  for one muse to protectively and/or possessively stand behind the other to intimidate a third party with rooster from the jealous prompts? Thanks 😊

Car Troubles

Summary: An issue with your car leads you to dealing with sexist mechanics. Will Bradley be there to help you?

Pairing:Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x afab!Reader

Warnings: Arguing, sexism, intimidation, a little angst if you squint and swearing.

Word count: 1006

Masterlist M's Hundred Celly Masterlist

Rooster had been watching you from his spot in his Bronco as you stood inside the mechanic shop talking to the guy behind the desk. Your car had been making a weird noise and had ended up breaking down. So you had taken it to Maverick and he gave it a once over telling you what was wrong and what parts you would need. He unfortunately wasn’t able to do the repairs himself because of a vacation he had planned with Penny and Amelia. 

Rooster had volunteered to do the repairs but once he got under the hood of your car everything was a lot different than his beat up Bronco. He had fixed most of the stuff in his vehicle with pure dumb luck. He didn’t want to take a chance of fucking up your vehicle with a hope of luck so he left the fixing to the professionals. You were supposed to pick your car up from the shop today. 

He figured it would be a simple task. You would go in, go over what the final cost of repairs were, pay the bill, get your car and be on your way. But the way things were looking inside the shop he wasn’t sure that’s how it was going. You had been in there for almost ten minutes now talking to the guy at the desk. Bradley thought for a while that maybe there was an issue with their system. 

As another five minutes went by he began to worry. He could see your toes tapping violently against the floor of the shop. Your arms were crossed along the expanse of your chest. He could tell even from behind you had to have had a look of fury on your face from the way you were standing. He debated on going inside when he saw you let out a deep breath. But he thought against it knowing you liked to handle things yourself. 

His thoughts changed quickly when he saw you throw your arms in front of you. As if asking what the fuck is this while shaking your head sharply. Turning off the Bronco he quickly made his way out of his front seat and towards the front door. Upon opening the door he was greeted by your voice. You hadn’t seemed to notice him so he remained quiet. 

“What the fuck do you mean I need a whole new engine? The car is barely a year old and has less than ten thousand miles on it. There is absolutely no way it needs an engine replacement.” You seethed out as your hands grabbed the papers in front of you harshly. 

“Miss, as I have been trying to tell you. Your entire engine has quit working. We would have to order so many parts it would just be easier and cheaper for you to replace the whole engine.” the middle aged mechanic spoke to you in a monotone voice and his expression bored. 

“My father-in-law has been working on cars pretty much his whole life and made me aware that the only part I would need is a new timing belt because my old one seemed to be faulty and possibly an oil change.” you pointed your finger at him sternly. Bradley felt pride swell through his chest as you referred to Maverick as your father-in-law. Yet his mood soured as the mechanic spoke again. 

“Well miss I’m not sure what to tell you other than the fact that he was clearly wrong. Why don’t you let us replace the engine and we'll throw in five discounted oil changes. I’m sure a young lady such as yourself could use someone else doing them.” He spoke to you blinking slowly. 

“I don’t need to replace my fucking engine. I will have my car towed from here and take it somewhere else if you don’t stop being a sexist piece of shit.” The anger in your voice scared Bradley a little as he had never heard it before. But the mechanic didn’t react at all. So Bradley finally decided to intervene. He came to stand behind you glaring at the balding man in front of you. He crossed his arms over his chest and flexed his muscles. 

Thankful he was still in his uniform from work so it gave him an extra bit of authority to his stance. The man’s face paled slightly at the sight of him. With one more pointed look from Bradley the man started to speak again.

“Actually ma’am now that I think of it, replacing the timing belt and getting an oil change should fix the issues you were having.” You let out a deep breath as the man finally seemed to have reason. But that wasn’t good enough for Bradley and he shook his head at the man. 

“I will also throw in five oil changes, free tire rotation and a discount code for a set of four tires.” He spoke quickly looking to Bradley for approval. Bradley raised his eyebrow and the man spoke once again.

“I also want to apologize for the misunderstanding that occurred today and can promise that you will be getting better service in the future.” That seemed to satisfy both you and Bradley. So he slowly slipped back out the door making sure to stare daggers at the man inside until you were done and heading back to the Bronco. You got in with a loud huff buckling the seat belt and reaching your hand out towards your fiancé. You laid your head on the window beside you as he grabbed your hand. 

“I didn't get my car today. I don't want to talk about it right now. Can you please just take me home Bradley. I have a raging headache from dealing with that bullshit.” you said as you closed your eyes. 

“I’ll take you anywhere you like sweet cheeks.” he replied to you, giving you a quick kiss on the back of your hand before pulling out of the parking lot.

A/N: Sorry this took forever darling anon! Thank you so much for the request!

Tags(open): @wkndwlff & @sylviebell

[prettypinkporkchop]

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.

[seat-safety-switch]

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.

[fortheloveofwonderland]

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

[goldenlionprince]

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.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

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?

[flowerwiththemachinegun]

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. 

[astyrial]

sleuthing spider 🕷️ ch. 1 - the escape artist

    the fisk building towers over the rest of manhattan, rivaling that of the empire state building. it's wide, taking up more space than probably needed. the front entrance in and of itself is a masterpiece of architecture. beautiful pillars on both sides, potted plants lining the staircases and windows. despite the lovely sight, wilson fisk always takes the back door. 

  he'll walk out the back door with men standing on both sides of him. someone would stand close by, back against the wall. another person sits in the driver's seat of a limo with the word 'fisk' written across the top. it's pretty much a production at this point, working on schedule for different meetings and 'events'. however, a part of you always knew that nothing he did was ever legal.

  a lot of people knew. however, no one had any proof that could truly get the man behind bars. he moved from state to state with no legal competition. fisk is able to clean up crime scenes, hide records, and pay off more than a thousand people. their behavior leaves little room for them to think to look across the street to a nearby alleyway for a foe. 

  a small car sits idling, lights off, the driver's window lowered. the dark navy color hides it rather well in the shadows of nearby buildings. a camera lens appearing as barely visible, similarly to you, who is lowered just enough to hide from the peering eyes of his minions. you squint one of your eyes, glaring through the camera's lense at the door opening. 

  out walks fisk, a large man with a black coat on that runs down to his knees. a shuttering noise quickly follows as your finger pushes down on the shutter release button. fisk briskly walks into the limo and one of his associates shuts the door behind him. the large limo sits in park for a few minutes while you attempt to grab a few more pictures of those working.

  even if you can't necessarily get fisk, you can at least identify some of his associates. however, you don't receive much time to snap anymore photos as the limo pulls out into an empty street. your hand instinctively tossed the camera into your passenger seat so you can follow them out of fifth avenue. 

  as soon as the limo starts to speed up from its initial turn, you're turning on your car, pulling out into the nearly abandoned street. you see them take a right a ways down and sigh, attempting to follow them down the small back road behind a few buildings. it wasn't always this way. you weren't always a private investigator who takes on more than you could chew. however, you couldn't help but take on fisk, a big fish- "HOLY SHIT!"

  something falls right before your car, a red blur that's barely recognizable from the speed. the mysterious object leaves your mind has no time to react as you feel the car hit the red blur. 

  a banshee like scream escapes your lips as you step down on the breaks. your hand sends the car into park, a sense of nervousness washing over you. what if the thing dies and it's considered manslaughter? what if you destroyed property and will go to jail? your hand fumbles with the car's handle as you exit the vehicle. 

  the door lays open as you rush to the front of your car. once you look down to see what it is, it's the last thing you thought you would hit. it's a superhero, or at least a superhero lookalike. it's spiderman. his classic blue and red suit completely covering his body, besides the scratch now showing through to his thigh. he's a little more muscular than the pictures of him show, and from what you can see, he's rather tall. "uhh- what do i do?" you silently question, watching as his hand reaches for where his forehead would be.

  much to your surprise, he immediately springs up. "uh what..." his voice sounds little higher than you expected, until he cleared his throat, when suddenly his voice dropped an octave, "what happened?"

  "did you just deepen your voice?" 

  "no, i simply cleared my throat... citizen," he brings his hands up to his hips, clearly flexing his muscles underneath his suit. 

  you narrow your eyes; however, the thought of fisk quickly reminds you what you were originally doing. he had gotten away during your spiderman debacle, but he couldn't be far. "well, spiderboy, i apologize for hitting you, and maybe you'd like my insurance or something. but i really need to see where that limo went," an apologetic smile crosses your face as you back up towards the driver side door.

  "insurance? no, i was trying to follow that limo too.. wait why are you following wilson fisk?" spiderman starts following you, limping a little as the cut in his leg seeps out a little blood. 

  "i'm following him because i was hired to, why was the great new york city arachnidboy following wilson fisk? wait, are you working with the police?" you rest your hand on the top of the car door and furrow your eyebrows. 

  the web-slinging hero makes it a couple more steps before the eyes on his mask shrink. it looks as though he's questioning you as well, wondering whether you're lying or not. let alone how your old beat up car somehow slipped his blindsides and nailed him into the back of the legs, "the police? no, i already ate a donut today. and you're getting paid to follow wilson fisk around?"

  "yes, why does that seem so ridiculous? now, do you want my insurance information or something? i need to follow that car!" you look down at his leg and wince internally, watching as he puts less weight on that specific leg.

  he takes another step forward; however, something causes him to stop. spiderman stops moving and his head leans back. "wait, are you okay? should i take you to a hospital or something?" 

  spiderman leans against the side of your car, the pain coursing through his veins. his leg buckles forward and he catches himself against the hood. he sits down on the concrete, wettened by morning's rainfall. you bite the inside of your cheek and hope that maybe he'll magically heal and you can get on with your day (besides the minor damage to your car). 

  however, he continues to sit there, his leg straight out. you can't help but stand there and wonder what you should do in a situation that never seemed possible.

masterlist / chapter two taglist:

[popculturebuffet]

I thought I'd try an interesting idea. Looking at how Community is, I thought it'd be cool to bring this question up: Favorite episode for Jeff, Britta, Abed, Annie, Shirley, Troy, and Pierce (I'll do the non-Study Group main cast members in a second ask to make it easier) on where they shine the best individually and why?

Okay finally getting to this one since I have a spare ten minutes: Jeff: Advanced Criminal Law. He has plenty of great moments but I think his bullshitting yet also genuine defneses as Britta's lawyer get to the heart of this guy. Jeff shines best when his heart has to show, that he's full of bullshit and axe body spray, but he's also a good man deep down despite himself and will do the right thing when pressed. He shines best comedically when just given a good withering put down or spinning out over his vanity.

Britta: Lawnmower Matinence and Postnatal Care. This episode is already one of my faviorites: it brings keith david into the series who damn well better be in the movie even just for a cameo, who shows his immense comedic chops as elroy, and has my faviorite line in the entire series

But while the a plot is one of community's best, the b plot is no slouch. While jeff stayed largely the same comedicaly, the bill murray type for everyone to rally around, Britta's evolution is intresting going from a bland as hell love intrest for Jeff who mostly just scowled at the others.. to deconstructing that as a hilariously pathetic hipster trying badly to be the moral center she was originally creeated to be and becoming a human train wreck the group sometimes fairly, sometimes not picks on. This late stage episode showcases that the best with the reveal her parents have secretly been subsiding her friends paying for her nonsense. Yet it's also a good character piece: While Britta is being performatively petty with her parents, even riding off on a trike while telling her parents not to infantalize her in what I consider THE britta scene and why this is here... it also gets as to WHY she's like this: her parents were strict, controlling and led her to being the conrarian mess she is, and she's understandably upset they both changed this late AND her friends can't accept she has valid frustrations. But I like them settling things: britta accepts their help and they geninely apologize for how they were. As you can see Britta works best as a mess.. someone who SEES herself as this big sister type, but is really just as flawed as the rest of her group.

Abed: This is a fucking hard one but thankfully like the rest of this my brain filled in the blank for me. Abed has a LOT of good episodes: as the series meta guy, he's the best vehicle for high concept nonsense the crew had. There's a lot of great stuff from his early breakout with his film for his dad, to his time as jesus, to "I'm a cat i'm a sexy cat". But honestly the best abed episode is abed's uncontrollable christmas. It gets to the real heart of him and Danny Pudi's splended performance: Abed's schitck goes way too far as he gets stuck in christmas and his friends have to help him out. It shows why he flees to tv: with a disapproving dad and a mom who left him, it's a source of comfort.. and finding out his mom no longer wnated him makes him shut down. It takes his friends geninely supporting him to make him see he dosen't need to escape.. that tv is nice.. but he can share it with his new family. It also has a lot of great weird shit. Abed is at his best in a LOT of circumstances: palling around with troy, when you tear him apart just a bit, and honestly feels like a better picutre of a neurotypical person than most. It's still a BIT tv autisim, but they lean off that early in favor of having him be a person: he hyperfixates on a ton of shit from inspector spacetime to the cape, has trouble with other people's emotins and get slost in his own world. It's exagerated because community is a live action cartoon at times, but they never stop making Abed feel like a person as much as a gimmick.

Annie: Virtual Systems Analysis. While this is a good abed episode, showing his mind in pieces and getting a good dig in at grey's anatomy, again a show i've watched all of up to the current episodes, it also gets to annie: her need to help people, her crush on jeff and why at the time it wouldn't work, and who she is. Annie like Abed is a good multitool character. Like Danny Pudi (And the whole cast really), Allison Brie is super talented, so Annie got to evolve from a vaugely defined character who was breaking down to a chill yet still type a person. She also plays off abed VERY well and Ig et why the shipping for these two was thick and frothy: Annie makes a good straight man while still being zany enough to kick off her own plots and she plays perfectly off Pudi and Glover. Giving the two a whole episode together was genius. You could see this dynamic as early as the psycological study which again, feels like an accurate depcition of autisim compared to a lot of what i've seen: Annie asked Abed to do something, so he did it. She's a strong character as the show goes on and this shows it off well.

Shirley: Comparitve Religion. It's one of only two shirley episodes I relaly like, the other being urban matriomony and the sandwitch arts. I love Yvette Nicole Brown, she's talented and does the roll well... but Shirely is easily my least faviorite of the greendale 7. It's not even close. Yvette Nicole Brown does a good job playing her.. but it's very hard to like her as 8 times out of ten, their focusing on her being a self righteous asshole who can't understand that being religoius dosen't make you a moral authority.

Comparative Religion uses this well, as her sermonizing is a problem: None of the gang is Christian like her and her passive agressive shit towards there religions grates and causes Jeff to lash out. While he DOES mend the fence by agreeing not to fight, Shirley realizes she needs to get the stick out of he rass ant takes a candy cane to a mans face. "It's december 10th!" Yvette Nicole Brown is, and I stress this, talented. I like her as a person. She just didn't get nearly as much to do as the others and as a result they tended to fall back on her sandwitch shop or her religion. Shirley works best when called on her shit or serving as the voice of reason.

Troy: Troy was hard to think of an episode for which is weird. Troy is one of the shows best character going from typical jock to loveable weirdo, with Glover having top notch comedic timing: a lot of the shows most memeable and memorable lines come from him: "HOw about I pound you like a boy", the that's racist exchange, the cookie crisp breakdown, the masturbation breakdown.. Donald Glover is REALLY good at having a hilarous breakdown, and of course TROY AND ABED DOING ANNNYTHING as pairing them up was genius.

Thankfully I did remember the one plot where Troy's not only mostly on his own but gets to shine, and partly because as a change of place he's a straight man. His time at Air Conditioner Repair. I mean the whole subplot is great from the good will hunting parody, to John Goodman as hte manical dean of the air conditionir repair school, but the climax is fantastic: with the dean dead Troy is thrown into a weird labyrinth of rituals, attempted murder and a contest to the death. It also leads to his best line,

It works thanks to Glover's great acting.. and the simple fact that TROY, who in this same season had a blanket fort war with his best friend rather than just talk things out, is the sane one.

Pierece: This one is easy. Intermmediate Documentary Filmaking. While it has a lot of good gags to it on it's own, patucally troy's freakout over lavar burton (Who also hopefully shows up for the movie). At it's core though it's a character piece for Pierece: It shows how fucked up he is as a person, putting everyone thorugh elabroate mind games to fuck with them, while also showing how he sees some of them giving annie a genuine gift and abed a neutral gift as he's neutral to him and vice versa. Piece has a valid reason to be pissed at everyone, how they treat him, ignore him and generally dispise him.. yet his going to such elaborate lengths to fuck with him kinda proves WHY: he's a bitter old man who rather than just call everyone out, decided to fuck with their heads and pretend to be jeff's dad and he's only not beaten to death ofr his actions, which he was warned about, because everyone else stops jeff.

Pierce can be hit and miss: his offensive grandpa jokes don't always land and he works best being weird as shit, like desnging the greendale human being or the college's theme song, getting high on paint thinners, making streets ahead a thing or other wacky nonsense. I"ll also say this: Chevy Chas eis talented. He's funny, he adds something to the show and it was nice to have him.. but unlike the rest of the cast who far as I can tell are wonderful human beings and talented, Chevy Chase is a giant combative prick, always has been always will be and while I like him as an actor, as a person he can go fuck himself and I want that on record.

[sunnyie-eve]

12 | Fixing up cars together

Series: Odds Together

Paring: Ryan Dunn x OFC Margera!

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: None

| MASTERLIST |

~

"Aren't you tired of fucking up Vito's cars and buying him new ones." I see them tearing apart his new one stretching it across the yard.

"I have money." Bam keeps his answer short and simple.

"I know... You wreak and spend like you have an endless bank account. Must be nice." I sigh. "Why aren't you helping?" I see Ryan just sitting and watching.

"I bet it won't make it. What do you think?"

"I don't think it will." I agree looking at it.

"So it's us vs you two. But we do need your help now, Dunn." Bam tell him so he gets up to help so I take his seat to watch.

"Didn't you just get this for Don Vito? What the hell you doing to it?" Dad comes out. "Bam, everyday he's gotta drive something different. It's getting to him." Dad tells him and they get him to wreak the car too.

"Did he have any clue what you just did to his car?" Rake comes out too to see most of it apart so Bam shhes him.

I was shocked the car actually stretch across the whole yard. "You know what this means. Dunn, Anna you two lose. That means you gotta go tell Don Vito." Bam tells us making Raab laugh.

"How close we gotta be to tell him?" Ryan asks.

"Face to face. But we'll come with you to see you guys get choked out."

"Yeah. Let's do that." Ryan says so we all go back to the house.

Vito of course gets pissed and grabs Ryan so I tell I'm dad, "Dad helped them do it." He starts to do his rambling which none of us understand till Bam tells him let's go get a new car for him.

I some how get dragged along to go look with them. "These cars are so cheap, let's just buy all of them." Bam makes us look at him.

"Why the hell would you buy all of these?" Ryan and I ask at the same time.

"We have 14 acres. I can figure something out." He says making me actually hate him on the inside with how he uses his money.

"Anna, you coming with us?" Ryan waves his hand in front of my face.

"I'm gonna wait here." I lean to rest against the hood of the car.

I mean Bam can do whatever he wants with his money but it still annoyed me. He doesn't care how he spends it. Hell, I would do the same if I had money like him but since I don't I just complain to myself. I made my money writing for a fashion magazine and send in designs I come up with. It didn't pay a lot at all but it was still money.

The guys come back putting shit in the back for Vito's new car so I shake my head at them. Dico and Raab then run across the street to get a fish to put in the back of the car.

Everyone drives back in the new cars to I drive Bam's back leaving first. When we get home I see Bam stop making all the cars hit each other. "And I'm related to that." I get out of his vehicle.

Bam decides to have a crash derby with the other cars and it of course didn't surprise me. I called he would fuck them up.

Around ten o'clock Ryan just comes into my room. "I gotta put up a please knock sign. At some point someone, you because you're the only person who lets themselves in, is gonna walk in on me changing. What do you what?"

"What are your plans for tomorrow?" He jumps onto my bed.

"Get annoyed by y'all and question why me." I give him a smile.

"Great so you can come watch me and some guys work on the cars for the derby."

"Why would I wanna watch you work on cars?" I set my book to the side.

"Because guys working on cars are considered hot... so I hear." He says making me laugh.

"And you heard this where?" I tilt my head.

"Girls..."

"Okay. Now what makes you think I would find you hot working on a car?" I can't help but laugh.

"Because you think that already." He says making me let out a loud ha.

"And what makes you think that?" I cross my arms shaking my head at him.

"Well earlier you were watching me take the car apart."

"I was watching everyone so don't make it seem like you're the special one." I get up to put my book away.

"You know a drunk you spills a lot." He said making me spin around to face him.

"Are you gonna tell me what I told you?" I start to get nervous fidgeting with my fingers behind my back.

"Just that you like watching me work on things." He smiles.

"I didn't say that. What did I really say Dunn?" I get serious.

"That's want you really told me." He starts to chuckle making my heart starts to race because I don't believe him. "Are you tearing up? I'm just messing around with you, Bels." He walks towards me back I back away.

"If I did tell you something serious... You would've talked to me about it right?" I blink a tear out. He looks down stepping back putting his hands in his pockets. "Dunn..."

"Yeah, if you did I would talk to you about it but you didn't. You don't have to panic about anything." He says softly. "You don't have to come with me tomorrow if you don't want to." He leaves my room.

-

The next morning I wake up and go to Ryan's room to see him still sleeping. I walk over and lay on top of his back since he was sleeping in his stomach again, "Get off me." He groans.

"I get ready to go watch you help with the cars but if you're just gonna sleep in longer... I'll just stay home and find something better to do." I rest my chin on his shoulder. He starts to move so I roll off him to his side, "Come on sleepy head." I poke at him.

"I'm getting up." He slaps my hand away getting up.

"I'll be waiting." I leave his room going downstairs.

After a few trips and stuff we finally get all the cars dropped off to get fixed up for the derby. "Okay, step one is to remove dangerous glass. Watch how it's done. But stand right here." He places me in a spot then looks at the camera not wackinh the taillight accurately.

"I think I regret this. You're gonna drive me insane."

"Then the perfect job for you is to take your anger out on the windows." He hands me something to break them with. "Let it all out." He pats my back. With one swing I break the a window. "I expected at least two swings. You got some issues."

When I was done I watch them remove a back window shield. "I got it." Ryan tells the dude them drops it on purpose making glass go everywhere.

"God damn it, Dunn." I hiss as a tiny piece hits my face.

"Let me see." He comes over grabbing my chin looking at my left cheekbone. "It's just a little cut." He cups my face then kisses the cut, "There it's all better now." I place my hand on his chest pushing him away from me.

"Knock it off, idiot." I say making him laugh taking his jacket off.

"Step two; Improve Aerodynamics." He hands me a hammer as he gets two. "Like beating up meat." He smiles and I chuckle at him as he starts so I just watch him. As he swings to get where the antenna is supposed to go, he misses hitting his knee. The sound he lets out makes me giggle at him. "Your turn to make it better." He turns to face me putting his knee out towards.

I roll my eyes leans down to kiss his knee, "There all better now." I smile before beating up the car with with.

After hours of watching and helping from time to time, Ryan and I head home. "So did you have fun today?" He asks as he drives us.

"Yeah." I nod my head.

"I like when it's just the two of us." He says making me look over at him.

"You do?"

"Yeah." He puts his and on my knee giving it a squeeze.

"Put your hand back in the wheel." I pick it up moving it back towards the wheel. "You scare me enough when you drive with two hands. You driving with one is gonna give me a heart attack." I say making him laugh.

-

"Who do want to win?" Ryan sneaks up behind me.

"I don't really care so sorry to burst your bubble of you wanting me to say you." I look back at him.

"Can you at least lie to me?" He moves to stand next to me.

"I want you to win." I grab onto his arm is a dramatic way.

"I know you're a better actor than that but I'll take it. What do I get if I last longer than Bam?"

"I'm sure Bam will get out first because he'll fuck himself up. Now go get in your car." I shove him away.

Bam's tank went out first, as I thought, so he got out to take Vito's car to go back in making Dunn's car go out. Third was Raab then technically Vito won because Glomb went out of bounds.

"Told you Bam would go out first." I walk over to Ryan.

"I can't believe Vito technically won." He shakes his head.

"I know. Also here. This is what you get for lasting longer than Bam." I kiss his cheek. "Oh and to boost your ego. You look great working on cars. The girls were right." I laugh walking away.

[quohotos]

So I'm sure no one remembers this anymore but it's been eating up my mind and I might as well get it out. There's this service called Carfax or some shit, and they pay for youtube ads. In one of them they have their mascot, this like fiver-ass animated furry, known as the carfax fox. Get it? Carfax? Carfox? Whatever, he looks like shit. Well he speaks in this snarky Ben Shapiro ass voice and explains that Carfax shows you the damage history of a vehicle so you can know it's true value. To illustrate his point, he has behind him two identical twins with two identical cars. Then through the magic of carfax or some shit the car on the right starts to rapidly morph from a normal car to a totalled wreck, I guess to illustrate how its damage history is being brought to light. This puts the twin on the right into a state of distress and causes the twin on the left to point and laugh.

"HA! Your damage has always been visible!" the guy says, pointing and laughing at his own brother.

It hangs for a beat where the other brother just looks so emotionally distraught. He's shocked and confused that someone so close to him would ever say something so unhinged and cruel. Like you just say that to someone? To your brother no less.

He stutters and then simply says: "We're twins!"

And then the add just fucking ends. Right there. Idk maybe they cut away to some slogan but it's the last we see of them and then your youtube video plays.

Excuse me what the fuck? What kind of martian wrote this?

Your damage has always been visible? What brings a person to say something like that. What does it even mean? I can tell you're traumatized, I can tell you're struggling, you're trying to hide it but I can see. I can see you're damaged goods, brother, and I find that funny. I laugh. I laugh at your weakness.

And don't you be fooled into thinking this is just some sort of edgy east coast style tear each other down humor, the twin on the right looks genuinely hurt. All he can do is appeal, brother how could you betray me like this? Are we not cut from the same cloth?

And why, why would he do this? Over a car? To impress some red fox who can't even make it up to his calf? Yes he appears large because of forced perspective but he could, would, and should drop kick the fucking carfax fox given the first opportunity. See the fox also thinks it's funny, or at the very least doesn't react. To him nothing matters beyond the monetary value of a vehicle. Human emotions, compassion, all that? It just gets in the way.

Oh god, did he coach the other twin? Maybe he wasn't always this way. Maybe the carfax fox has been corrupting him.

Just put yourself in the poor twin's shoes. It's been months, you haven't heard from your brother. You see him post on Instagram, but less and less does he actually have room for you in his life. You see photos of him, him and this fucking fox. Drinking, going to parties, their relationship status changes. Your twin brother, he's gay, and dating a fox. He didn't tell you, you're twins but apparently this wasn't worth mentioning. Maybe he didn't feel safe telling you. It keeps you up at night. You thought you were close.

Then a text message comes out of the blue. "Remember that car you're trying to sell, you haven't found a buyer yet, right?" Not hello, nothing like that, just straight to business.

"Yeah," you reply back, before clarifying, "It still hasn't sold."

"My boyfriend has this app for selling cars, do you think you could bring it by to the studio, we were thinking of using it in an ad."

"Yeah sure, totally, bro."

"Awesome. Would you like to be in the ad? You just need to stand there next to your car. It'll really help it sell"

"Uhh... sure, I guess," you reply back.

It's a nice car, but yeah you are struggling to sell it. You've had it for like eight years and put a lot of work into it. Real ship of thesus type vehicle. Selling it is important, but not really your priority.

"How've you been, man?" you text back.

No reply. Minutes later the typing bubbles pop up. He just ignores your message, it's just a date and time.

You show up as requested, it's a sound stage. A producer helps you get your car in the building. Some makeup people give you a once over, someone puts a lapel mic on your shirt. You finally see your twin brother, on the other side of the stage is a car that looks just like yours. Same make, same model, same color. Maybe it's a rental. Then you see him.

Your brother, he's there with that fox, they're laughing about something but you can't hear it.

You introduce yourself, but as soon as you approach the smiles stop. It's awkward. Were they laughing at you? You have so many questions, so much to catch up, but apparently your brother's boyfriend isn't even happy to see you.

"You don't have any lines, don't worry, you just look forward and smile."

Your brother produces a plastic bag of cocaine and you watch as the fox snorts it off of the hood of the rental car like it's nothing, in view of everyone.

"All right, it's showtime folks," he says, and suddenly everyone's moving. Your brother scowls at you.

"Get to your place," he says. You're shocked, shocked by his tone, but a split second later he's back to smiling for the camera.

The first take is messed up because you're not in place yet. The fox berates you, tells you to get it together. This isn't him, this isn't right. What does he see in this guy. Is he just leeching off of his money, would your twin brother even do that? You thought you knew him.

They reset from the top, you smile into the lights, into the cameras. The fox is saying something about damage history. Whatever, it's a car sale app or something. Then to your horror you hear the sound of bending metal and shattering glass. You turn to see your car, totaled in an instant. What? How? What did they do?

Your eyes shoot around the room. The fox won't even look at you, his tail swishing back and forth playfully.

"Ha, your damage has always been visible."

You turn to see your brother pointing and laughing. Your damage has always been visible? What does that mean? What does that even mean.

"We're twins!" you say, mouth agape in disbelief.

This isn't him this isn't right.

"Alright, I think we got it. We don't need you anymore," the fox says, finally turning to you.

"Bro, what's... what's gotten into you?" you sputter.

His guffaws, they're softer now, just a slight chuckle and smirk.

"You're weak," he says, "Just like your fucking car."

Whoever this person is, he's not the brother your grew up with. Not the shoulder you cried on, not the guy you shared a pokemon emerald save with, not the one that you did matching Halloween costumes with for fifteen years straight. No, no he's something else now, and all because of that fucking fox.

"You son of a bitch!" you shout, lunging for him.

The fox seems only mildly amused as you're grabbed by security, dragged out kicking and screaming.

"I'll kill you, what did you do to my brother?" you demand.

"Your damage has always been visible," your brother laughs. That's the last you ever see of him.

[therealitychecksneakpeek]

Chapter 3

If you missed Chapter 1 & Chapter 2, make sure you take a look!

He repeats the question, this time using my name, “Mandy? Can I kiss you?”

I stammer a bit before blurting out, “In what capacity?” which somehow breaks the tension, making us both laugh.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I just realized I’m most nervous about having to kiss you next week in a room full of people when I barely know you. I was hoping we could just rip the Band-Aid off so I don’t have to spiral about what that’s going to be like. That way, things can just be smooth when we actually start filming. Is that weird?”

Shit. It’s not fair he gets to look the way he does and also be totally adorable.

“No, it’s not weird. Believe it or not, I’m nervous too.”

“Really?” He looks both surprised and relieved.

“Yeah, I mean you’re my first fake, on-air boyfriend.”

I tell him about how the show started when I was 22 and how it went from being a vehicle to promote myself and my music to my sole career. It’s the first time I’ve actually said a lot of this out loud, not to mention to the hottest guy I’ve ever seen in my life, but Casey makes it easy. He’s told me about his family and what they mean to him, which makes me open up about my mom’s battle with breast cancer when I was 26 and how suddenly the income from the show meant the difference between her getting the best treatment in the country or what was available in her limited health plan.

It was because of that I had to do whatever it took to stay on the air, even if it went against my core beliefs. I went from this fearless 22-year-old who wanted to show other women confidence comes from within and can happen at any size to an overburdened 26-year-old reality tv star shilling weight loss teas and bending over backwards to accommodate whatever the network wanted.

Two of my best friends that started as cast members don’t talk to me anymore.

They still sing at the church we all met at, but I had to fire them because they became moms who audiences felt had “boring storylines” and “read as tired all the time” in exchange for Katrein who was also plus size, “dynamic,” and “aspirational”. My family still made a cameo from time to time but they went from being a huge part of the show to an occasional FaceTime in order to pay a revolving door of my new friends which included hot trainers, singing coaches, life coaches, and whatever trends the network deemed timely.

All the while, I had been assured that the show was still mine.

My star was what kept the show chugging along, and everything I did on my Instagram and TikTok helped keep me relevant. At one point I worked with a PR person named Jenna who encouraged me to move to Nashville for the summer and collaborate with up and coming country music artists to help expand my fanbase, even though I don’t sing country music. She also thought I should get gastric bypass and do one of those magazine covers where someone who has lost a lot of weight stands in their old pants. For some reason, that was the thing that ended my relationship with her.

Thinking about it now, it’s hard to believe I’m 34-years-old and just as close to achieving my dream of pop star stardom as I was all those years ago. The realization hits me like a ton of bricks and Casey, who has somehow been absorbing all of this, reaches out and takes my hand in his.

It’s strange. I know that Casey is being paid to be with me, but it doesn’t feel like he sees it that way. It might just be me being a bit delusional but it feels like we already have a real connection.

“See, you don’t need to be nervous,” I joke. “You’re a natural at this boyfriend stuff.”

He blushes a little but doesn’t let my hand drop.

“I suppose that’s thanks to Kelly?”

The question is asked tentatively, even though he brought her up when it had been his turn to monologue about the life circumstances that led him to me. I know I’m playing with fire a little bit, because most of what he’s shared is fairly surface. The thing is, I know he’s playing a part but I’m starting to want this to be real, and that’s a very dangerous thought.

My heart doesn’t give a shit and wants to know if I have a chance. Maybe they’re not as serious as Ben and his bio made it out to be.

“Probably,” he says. “You’d like her. You’re a lot alike in some ways.”

“How so?”

He shrugs.

“Big dreams and not afraid to go after them.”

“So, you’re telling me you have a type,” I say way too flirtatiously than I should. “Glad that your real girlfriend and fake girlfriend are similar in that way. Is she fat too?”

I can tell he’s a nice guy by the way he recoils a bit when I say “fat” as if it’s a dirty word. Ben once explained to me that even though I own it and it doesn’t bother me, it still feels like an insult somehow. I get what he means, of course I do. I’ve been fat long enough to know what it feels like to have it shouted at you or weaponized against your worth as a person. That’s why I don’t shy away from using it or calling myself fat.

I’m a 2x on a “thin” day and I have been for the past 15 years.

I’m lucky that I carry my weight in a way that society deems as more acceptable than other fat women, but I’m still fat – just with big boobs, a big ass, and a whisper of an hourglass figure.

“No, she’s not,” he finally says.

“Too bad,” I say, adding a playful wink. “You don’t know what you’re missing then.”

“I can already tell that any real boyfriend you have will be lucky to have you.”

I smile through the knife he’s just pushed through my heart and pretend to be unphased as I ask him about all things Kelly. I’m hoping that by doing so it will be less obvious that I’m starting to have a very real crush on him. I’m also hoping that my brain will actually register Casey is totally off limits.

Ben and his bio were correct in assuming their relationship is serious.

I get an abridged version but Casey tells me that he and Kelly have been an item since college where she majored in art history as he pursued an MBA. I discover that Casey is actually five years younger than me, and Kelly three years younger than him. At twenty-nine, Casey is really ready to start settling down but Kelly isn’t totally ready which is why this whole thing doesn’t bother her.

I guess it’s easy to take a five-month breather from your serious relationship when you feel like you have all the time in the world.

He assures me that they’re still very much together, but for optics and other reasons their families and friends think they’re taking time to really explore who they are as people before they finally make that inevitable leap. She’s not planning on quitting her full-time job as an art teacher, but without Casey consuming all her time on weekends and after school she’s hoping to really see if she can create art and make a living at it.

He shows me that she’s already opened a shop on etsy and has a few prints for sale. I can tell that he’s genuinely proud of her, and I also make a mental note of her shop name so I can later look it up and obsess over the picture she’s uploaded. On his phone it’s too small to really see but I get the gist. Kelly is a blonde woman wearing a big smile and painter’s smock, holding up a painting of hers. I wonder if he’s only into blondes and if I wasn’t fat, if my brown hair and brown eyes would be a deal breaker. I wonder if he only dates women her size or if he’s one of those rare guys that values an emotional connection as much as a physical one.

“Are you worried at all about being apart for so long while we film? And then of course there’s the press obligations and the stuff we have to do for a month after wrap to make sure our relationship looks legit…”

“Maybe a little,” he admits. “But I also believe what’s meant to happen will happen, you know?”

“I do.”

Except what I’m hoping is meant to happen is probably not what he’s hoping. Especially now that we’ve had this conversation and I feel much closer to him than I ever thought I would.

“Should we kick this thing off?” I ask, taking my phone out and flipping the camera into selfie mode.

“Let’s do it,” he says.

I start to hold the phone away from me, but Casey moves closer to the point I can feel his body pressed against my back as takes it out of my hand.

“My arms are longer.”

He speaks right into my ear and his breath tickles my skin to the point I feel as if I’m covered in goosebumps and praying he can’t tell. He drapes his other arm around my shoulder, as if he were claiming me, and snaps a few shots. As if that weren’t enough he nuzzles my neck, still snapping away as I try to keep my face smiling and composed as if this is my real life and not just for show.

God, I wish it wasn’t just for show.

It’s taking all of my self-control not to make this incredibly inappropriate for him. I want to pounce on him, straddle his thick, muscular thighs and rub myself against…

“Can I kiss you Mandy?”

I want to scream, “OF COURSE YOU CAN!” but I just smile and nod. He cradles my face with his free hand, still holding the camera still with his other. I wonder if the selfie taking is making this less real for him, since social media assets were just talked about in our kickoff meeting, or if there’s more going on for him too and the camera gives him an excuse to indulge a little bit.

I don’t care either way but it’s confusing, and his touch doesn’t feel completely platonic or innocent. It feels like he’s reciprocating this blossoming crush, even if I’m not his usual physical type.

His thumb brushes over my bottom lip and I hear the shutter sound from my phone camera before he leans in and kisses me.

It occurs to me that someone has told him that kissing in film and tv is typically chaste and without tongue. I want to murder whoever told him that and wonder if that makes me a bad person. I continue to play with fire a bit as we kiss, parting my lips ever so slightly against his so should he want to slide his tongue into my mouth he’s able to do so.

To both my relief and dismay, he does not oblige.

The shutter continues to snap until he pulls back with a smile, one hand extended to offer me my phone while the other still gently strokes my face.

“Should we do another for good measure or do you feel like you’ve got that down?” I whisper quietly. I don’t know when it happened but my hands have found their way to his chest and it’s fair to say there has never been a man whose physique has made me feel this good in his arms. He holds me close in a way that makes me feel accepted for everything I am. There’s no shrinking down or wanting to feel small, instead there’s just being held. I just have never experienced anything like this. The worst part is I can’t seem to control myself either, and instead of pulling away I look at him, challenging him to kiss me without a camera.

I hate myself for this too.

This man has a girlfriend and what I’m doing is wrong.

I can’t help myself though – I’ve never felt this kind of pull before. Even with Tobey, whom I loved with my whole heart, this type of attraction was missing. I have judged so many people for getting close to doing what I’m tempting Casey to do, and I’m judging myself but something about him has me already losing control.

Casey’s gaze flickers between my eyes and lips and just as I could swear he starts leaning forward to kiss me again, a voice pulls us both back to reality.